#gonna think what kind of cocktail frank is now

[frnkiebby]

sometimes i wonder about him~🎃

[dailycass-cain]

Batgirls #16 makes more sense in lieu of the news the series will be ending with #19. It's a rare one & done issue, but not necessarily one.

In all honesty, prior to the news on Friday, I figured this was writers Michael Conrad and Becky Cloonan paying homage to both Cassandra and Stephanie's ongoing runs by doing a one/done but really a single issue building off what came prior.

Really this issue is a culmination of seeds planted since the very beginning.  It's kind of satisfying in a way seeing story beats from the early issues paid somewhat off in creepy ways.

This puppet Jason has haunted me since I read the issue and IT SHALL HAUNT YOU NOW TOO!! 

*ahem*

Namely, the opening "salvo" of the Mad Hatter showcases what Mr. Greene was doing all the way since #1 (but really we saw all the way to #9).

Now seeing the creepy doll in #9 makes more sense with what he was commissioned with, and a bit of a payoff that yes Steph was right.  Just Greene was someone who developed something rather creepy for the supervillains of Gotham (akin to the Carpenter).

It's a neat little bit where Gotham gonna be Gotham and even working on creepy dolls for the bad guys wasn't gonna protect him from other monsters Gotham had (aka Mr. Fun).

If anything, I'm a bit surprised this wasn't further connected, but I'll base my theory anyway that Jervis targeted the Batgirls with this elaborate scheme because they took out his student. Charles Dante aka--

It is a nice way to circle things all the way back to then besides Greene. But that's my personal theory.

Suffice it to say I did enjoy Neil Googe's art for this story because of the creepiness of the dolls and his style helps bring the monstrous twist all the better.

Again, Conrad and Cloonan have been showing Hatter has been using various stuff (again making me wonder given Spellbinder's modus operandi was the same).

Taking stuff (namely Hatter’s mind tech and Scarecrow’s Fear Toxin) and warping it for his own cocktail twist. I mean the clues are all there.  Hatter used Lazarus Resin and this issue uses a Man-Bat formula on a Batgirl to make her a Girl-Bat.

I'm a bit surprised at the choice because Cass did have a history with Man-Bat (in the ye old Batman & the Outsiders by Frank Tieri). So I figured if anyone was going to be a Girl-Bat it is her this issue.

But nope the recurring theme this series has been is Steph is the one who's gonna suffer. I mean literally, she's been doused with the brew Tutor/Spellbinder had made. She got tortured and "killed" then had the Laz Resin used on her. This issue--

I mean I get it. But dang Steph's been put thru a ringer in this series. The fact that she's still willing to go after ALL this has happened to her is astonishing. It almost makes me wonder...

If the whole point of this, makes Steph retire. That this DC's way to give her this moment but step aside. I really don't want that but man there's got to be a point to put her thru ALL OF THIS. That said--

-- I loved this. Because one it harkens to something Cass has been doing throughout her career. She speaks to monsters.  Treats them fully as humans still even given their deformities and conditions.

She did it with Mr. Freeze (Batgirl Vol. 1). Man-Bat (Batman & the Outsiders). Clayface (Detective Comics). Orca (DC: Doomed & the Damned).

I think it's VERY telling this is Conrad and Cloonan having Cass relive a BAAAAD moment in her life in losing Basil here and being like, "NOPE! THIS ISN'T GOING DOWN LIKE THAT!"

It all feels waaaaaaaaaaaaay too similar in how this issue plays out to how it played out in Tec.

I mean we literally have Babs in this issue in the SAME EXACT POSE as Kate did in Tec with both having a sniper rifle. Just that this time-- Cass FOUND THE WAY.

It proves Cass was right back then and it feels justified in a way that yes she could've talked Basil out back then. Instead of you know--

I also think that's been the greatest problem DC has been skirting away from. You have these two characters with SO MUCH HISTORY. You had Basil remain good for a period even after that and turn him evil on a whim.

Not have ANY payoff with Cass seeing this? Come on DC. Break our hearts dammit!  You literally gave Tynion's Tec run an Omnibus and various trade forms. If you can revisit the overrated rubbish Hush story you can revisit this story!

Back to this one. I really did like the simplicity of this issue where it's all about the "little" things. Things we as readers picked up on and get nods to the past of prior Batgirl volumes (or issues from this) and payoffs.

But the biggest one besides the connection to Tec this issue had was again a connection to Batgirl Vol. 1 I saw NO ONE pick up on. I kept it silent until this moment.

I mean someone did catch the nods to the way Cass thought of Steph during the Andersen Gabrych run. That was a neat detail.

But here's mine I caught.  At the end, we had this mention from the narrator (and I'll fully admit it. THIS WAS THE BEST NARRATION this series has given us. It ADDED to the emotion of this issue). That Cass was by Steph's side the ENTIRE TIME.

Just like Steph stood by Cass's bedside after she had to deal with the Shiva groupie in Batgirl Vol. 1 #26.

That's a deep cut, but a nice one that had me all:

Again, this issue had LAYERS of stuff that I enjoyed.  Which is all the more reason the news this past Friday is so 💔because since #9 the series has been clicking until #14 where it just unleashed that salvo of goodness.

Yes, it's baiting us. I'll fully admit but in a way it reminds me of what creators said akin to Tim/Cass back in the mid-00s that now fully relates to Cass/Steph here.

Cass/Steph literally do act like two people in love with each other who haven't accepted it yet. Well, Cass we know did in #15 but I think this is the first real acknowledgment that Steph gives to Cass this issue.

Will we get SOMETHING in these next remaining issues? Who knows. But I really enjoyed this issue and what it gave us. Just connecting so many dots to this current run and of Batgirl stories' past.

[findingjoynweirdstuff]

Dream SMP Recap (April 25/2021) - The Red Banquet

The day has finally come.

All the preparations have been completed. The invitations have been sent out. Everything has been leading up to this moment, and the Eggpire is ready to make their move.

It’s time for the Red Banquet.

A brief summary of the week’s total events can be found at the end of the post.

---

VOD LINKS:

Captain Puffy

Badboyhalo

Antfrost

Eret

Skeppy

Ranboo

---

- Puffy walks around on the surface. Everything is prepared, the armor is where it should be. She hopes everything will go well.

- Everyone is dressed up for the occasion (except George). Hannah, Niki, Fundy, Eret, George and HBomb are all there.

- Bad says hello to Ponk in the Egg Room. Ponk tells him that no one has arrived yet. Antfrost greets them by the entrance and they go up the stairs to find Niki waiting. 

- Puffy and the other guests soon enter the room as well. Antfrost points them towards a coat room where they can put all their items. Foolish arrives with the Rolexes. They drink some cider, head to the dance floor and play some tunes.

- Bad comes over and greets Puffy. Foolish informs Bad that he peed on the Egg. Sam also has a dumpy and HBomb has two of Fundy’s cocks. 

- Antfrost goes off to speak with Ponk alone and check for some last guests. They watch as George arrives.

Ant: “He looks sort of lost, but that’s okay -- we welcome everybody here.”

Ponk: “Hold up...I don’t know...hmm. Hmm...”

Ant: “I mean, he looks harmless enough.”

Ponk: “We need to get a real good look at him first. Quickly.”

Ponk: “I don’t know what that’s about.”

Ant: “I don’t know. Well, we’ll just keep an eye on him.”

Ponk: “Yeah...”

- They then go speak to HBomb and Niki. H hasn’t stopped dancing

HBomb: “I’m doing my best impersonation of a white dad.”

...

Ant: “Did you guys notice that the guy over there -- George -- just sort of wandered in? He seems sort of lost.”

Ponk: “I feel like he’s hiding something.”

- From the walls, Ranboo in a shadowy outfit can be seen watching. 

- HBomb is the DJ.

- Bad comes over to say that dinner is ready. Bad tells Puffy that they have shrimp cocktails and they all go to sit at the table. Some people are in jail and weren’t able to attend. Ponk cooked all the food.

- Bad welcomes the guests to give toasts to the meal.

First up is Foolish, who says that he hopes that after today, nobody has to say “turn a new leaf” or “let bygones be bygones” ever again. Everyone has come here in agreement in the hope of something new.

Next is Eret. 

Eret: “As the monarch of the SMP, it’s awesome to be able to maybe see the SMP going back to being reunified again, and seeing all of us not have to worry about fighting each other on different sides. I hope this is a new chapter of the entire community as a whole. Cheers to that.”

Then Ponk steps up. Long ago, an old, wise man told him “People change like the tides in the ocean.” Now he truly knows they do.

Puffy steps forward. Bad and Antfrost, she considers as friends, and the Egg has separated them. She hopes this brings them all together and makes the server more peaceful. 

George was asleep twenty minutes ago. He asks about the soup. Ponk says it’s made from organic, free-range beets.

Finally, Bad says he appreciates everyone coming. This is the perfect opportunity for everyone to come together and let bygones be bygones. To set aside past issues to grow and advance forward, even with the wrongs that have been done. 

- He nods to Antfrost, who breaks a block behind them, revealing a button. Antfrost presses it.

Bad: “I was very, very happy that we were able to gather everybody here together for what is, I’m sure, going to be a banquet that none of us are ever going...to...forget.”

- Lava starts pouring down from the ceiling, walling them in.

Bad: “Yep. Prepare to die.”

- Everyone panics. 

- Puffy tells Bad that she didn’t trust the Eggpire anyway, and planned for this. She removes the cover from the table and looks into the chest -- it’s empty.

- They watch as the Eggpire members all don the diamond armor that Puffy and Sam had prepared. Hannah says she had to do it, had to tell them. For the Egg.

- Sam says that he had another plan, because he didn’t trust the Eggpire. He’s tired of all this fighting, and it’s about time that they blow up the Egg for good this time.

- Sam flicks the TNT lever and the explosives rain down on the Egg. When they explode, though, the Egg turns into crying obsidian instead of getting destroyed, reverting back to normal Egg blocks after a few seconds.

- After Quackity’s attack, Bad and the others took preparations to make sure that the Egg wouldn’t be vulnerable to TNT anymore. Now, it’s time for the executions.

Bad: “You see, the Egg needs something, and it’s gonna get it from each of you. See, in order for the Egg to hatch, it needs energy. And it gets that energy by people dying near it. And that’s the role that you guys are gonna fill! We’re gonna kill you, one by one--”

Eret: “You’re a monster.”

Bad: “What’d you say, Eret?”

Eret: “You’re an absolute monster. How could you. We all trusted you, Bad!”

Ponk: “Trust! Okay, Eret. Keep talking. Keep talking about trust.”

Eret: “...That was a long time ago.”

- Bad says that Eret is the perfect person to sacrifice first! He leads Eret to a spot in front of the Egg lined with Netherite blocks.

- Foolish steps forward, saying he’s had enough. The Egg can shield itself against TNT, but can it withstand lightning?

- Nothing happens. Bad laughs.

Bad: “You really thought, Foolish? You thought you could enter the Egg’s domain and beat it in a battle of power? Come on...you’re in the Egg’s territory, Foolish.”

- The Egg is suppressing Foolish. Ant suggests they start with Foolish instead and take Eret’s life later.

- Puffy steps forward. She and Antfrost shout at each other. Puffy says she gave them chance after chance. Antfrost says that Puffy betrayed them first.

Ant: “Foolish, your own son, is about to be slaughtered because of you!”

Puffy: “I’m only one person!”

Foolish: “Puffy, Puffy, it’s okay, it’s not your fault--”

Puffy: “NO! It’s not alright!”

Ant: “Puffy, you could have stopped this if you had stayed with the Eggpire. But this is your fault.”

- Antfrost kills Foolish with a sword.

---

CANON DEATH: FOOLISH

Cause: Sacrificed by Antfrost to the Egg

---

- Everyone screams in horror. The Eggpire wonders who to kill next.

- Suddenly, Quackity shouts at them to stop and drops into the room. He tells Bad to calm down. He puts on diamond armor.

- Quackity tells them they’ve just killed a man, asking if this is what they wanted. Bad tells him that he’s doing all this for the Egg, for what the Egg can give them.

Quackity: “I’m telling you, Bad, you’re a pawn to power. You’re nobody, Bad. You’re working for something that, quite frankly, doesn’t even care about you. I mean look at the Egg, look at the Egg! Look at what it means! It doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean anything, Bad. So how about...how about we just stop playing games.”

- As Quackity monologues, he subtly slips Puffy a Netherite axe, potion of strength and a golden apple.

- Bad can’t stop, or else he can’t get what he needs. 

Bad: “Guess what, Quackity. If you wanted to stop us, you should’ve brought more than just yourself. You should’ve brought an army.”

Quackity: “Guess what, Bad? I did! I did. In fact, I brought the next best thing...I brought my biggest enemy!”

- Technoblade logs on and drops into the room, his hoard of dogs following.

- Not only that...Quackity also went looking across the lands for the best mercenary he could find. Purpled drops into the room as well.

Bad: “We HIRED you to take out Puffy, and you join the enemy’s side?!”

Purpled: “Bad, to be frank with you, Quackity just had the better price.”

- Techno explains that he didn’t want to work with Quackity, but the Egg is too great a danger to the server and it’s against everything he stands for.

- Suddenly, Puffy jumps forward with her axe, attacking Ant. The Eggpire is shocked that she has a weapon.

Puffy: “You’ve taken my kindness for weakness, Antfrost!”

---

CANON DEATH: ANTFROST

Cause: Killed by Puffy with an axe

---

- A fight breaks out. Bad shouts for the remaining Eggpire members to retreat. They run out. Quackity orders Purpled to go track them down.

- Bad leads the Eggpire out. They can regroup later. For now, they have to run. They have to split up. They can’t get caught, they have to stay safe and go as fast as they can.

- Alone, Bad thinks to himself.

Bad: “This is such a trainwreck. This whole plan...everything was for this moment! And it’s gone! They -- they have the Egg now...they have it. What can I do? I can’t do anything! I need to get out of here. I need resources...”

“Wait, I know where I can go. I know who I can see...but the Egg, the Egg is -- it’s in their possession right now. What can I do? What can I do against it? I can’t do anything, they have it! I needed the Egg, I needed...I needed what it was gonna give. It was gonna help me get what I wanted, but now they have it...they have it...I just...I just wanted what...I just wanted what it could give me.”

“I didn’t really -- I didn’t really want to hurt anybody. I just wanted what it could give me, but...I don’t know. Did I screw up? Am I in the wrong here? I don’t know...I just need to go. I need to get out of here.”

- Bad starts rowing away into the ocean.

- Quackity asks Sam what to do next. The Egg is invincible.

- Purpled lost them in the labyrinth. Sam says he’ll build a prison for the Egg if he has to. He wants to find a way to destroy it, but for now they need to lock it away where it can’t be accessed.

- Quackity makes sure everyone is alright. They then exit the room through the whole in the wall. Quackity tells Techno to come with him and Sam to talk. They leave the others to escape the rest of the way.

- They make it to the surface, relieved. HBomb hands them all soup to remember the event by.

- Puffy goes off on her own down the Prime Path. While she talks to herself, Ranboo walks down the path with potion particles coming off of him.

Puffy: “What did I do? What -- I...My son died! And I killed my best friend! I...I need to find Foolish. I...I don’t even know who I am anymore. The life I swore to protect, I didn’t at all, and then I took one myself! I don’t even...I...I can’t do this anymore. I just...can’t.”

- Eret mourns Foolish after the events of the Banquet. Foolish sacrificed his life for Eret, so at the very least he should be commemorated.

Eret: “I don’t even feel like I knew him that well...which makes things even harder. He’s helped me out with so many things, just from the kindness of his heart. He claimed to know me. He claimed to know a me which I don’t even remember... And he sacrificed himself for me.”

“At the very least, I need to commemorate his sacrifice, I...I should’ve been the one to die, not him.”

- Eret builds a Totem statue in his fortress. 

RIP Foolish I’ll miss you, old friend.

- Eret builds a replica of the Egg in their museum.

- Ranboo logs on in his house. He decides to go around the main area today and fix some stuff. His inventory is quite empty, so he grabs stacks of grass blocks from a chest and heads out.

- He heads over to the main area and remarks that the server is beginning to look okay now that the Blood Vines are gone.

- He notices some posters for the Red Banquet.

Ranboo: “Oh, that was today! ...Cool!”

- He carries on and runs into Sam near the Community House. They exchange some steak. Sam says he’s collecting materials for the bank, as people need it now more than ever. 

- Sam suggests Ranboo invest money and charge cash for his hotel. Ranboo points out that they already have currency in the form of emeralds and diamonds. Sam explains his waiver idea for the bank.

- Also, Sam needs to build a vault. People can come and rent a spot to lock away important items. 

- Ranboo asks if you can lock away people in the vault. Sam says that’s what Pandora’s Vault is for already.

- Sam mentions that they’ll put the Egg in there. Ranboo asks what makes this different from regular storage. Sam says it’s more secure.

- Sam and his associates will be there day and night to actively defend everyone’s belongings. Ranboo asks how many guards Sam has under his command. Sam says quite a few.

- Why now? Sam says there’s no time like right now and quotes Oogway.

- Sam doesn’t plan on charging interest. He just wants to establish a better system of trade on the server.

- Ranboo explains to chat that he can use this system to make infinite money by trading emeralds and diamond armor.

- What if someone is, say, already quite rich on the server? Sam says the trade and the guard of supplies is most important. 

- Ranboo asks how fragile the system would be. What would it take to bring it down?

- Sam says a whole nuke. Ranboo replies that he was thinking systematically. He asks how the Great Depression happened and Sam explains inflation and the circumstances for economic crises. 

- Sam gives Ranboo a “prototype Sam dollar.” (One iron ingot)

- They go to Hannah’s house to steal and then find an anvil in the spider spawner to name the ingot “Smollar.” They go down the tunnel and Sam says that Ranboo shouldn’t go down to the Egg Room. It’s under quarantine.

- He’s planning on moving the Egg and asks if Ranboo heard what happened. Ranboo didn’t. Sam fills him in in the Egg Room. Ranboo is curious about the Egg turning into obsidian and picks up a piece of the Blood Vines, suggesting Sam do some experiments.

- They exit the Egg Room and find some strange llamas. Ranboo shoves a chest in Drip Llama.

- Ranboo, Sam, and Foolish breed a ton of llamas to begin the Industrial Revolution.

- Bad comes over and becomes one with the llamas to cope. Foolish turns into a L’manburg Llama and is promptly slaughtered by Ranboo.

- Ranboo, Bad and Foolish create a gigantic llama train.

Upcoming Events:

- Quackity’s business opening

- Tommy’s plan

- Tales From the SMP: “Space Race”

- Dream’s lore video

- The Banquet aftermath

---

END OF WEEK RECAP:

4/19 - Nothing much happens.

4/20 - Nothing much happens.

4/21 - HBomb makes a diamond game, Jack plans to open a pub sidechain for his hotel business

4/22 - Tubbo shows Tommy how to make TNT cannons

4/23 - Puffy, Foolish, Hannah and Sam meet on Cloud Prime to discuss the Banquet, Ranboo’s Enderwalk Saga: “The Lessons”

4/24 - HBomb’s diamond game, George’s anniversary dream, Bad hands out invitations

4/25 - THE RED BANQUET.

[andallthatmerrymishigas]

Rules: Tag 10 people you want to get to know better!

Tagged by @emma-hahn and @corasorangejuice (omg you guys, thank youuuu! I loved getting to read your posts!)

Favorite time of the year: Autumn for sure.  I love the sunny days and the brisker weather and HALLOWEEN and I just love the pre-holiday time when we have the anticipation and the trees start to change but it’s not too dark or too cold yet and it’s just perfect.  We are almost getting to spooky season and I cannot wait.

Comfort foods: Macaroni and Cheese is my favorite food of all time, particularly the deluxe four cheese from Kraft and I add a little bit of truffle salt to it.  Other comfort foods for me are my mom’s ground turkey tacos and the grilled ahi tuna my dad does on the barbecue with the sauce my mom makes (sesame teriyaki with wasabi and sour cream all melted and magnificent)

Do you collect anything? I used to collect miniature snow globes and now I collect magnets whenever I travel.  And I don’t think books count as collecting but I live in a studio apartment and I have 3 enormous bookshelves and I need another one so maybe that counts.  Oh and I low key collect makeup products but I use all my insane shit so...

Favorite drink: Red wine probably.  But I love an old fashioned or other classic whiskey cocktails or a fruity vodka cocktail.  I mostly drink a lot of water day in and out.

Favorite music artists: Oh man okay get ready for a paragraph that no one will read.  I was raised on the big-voiced divas.  Barbra Streisand is the deity to whom I pray.  Celine Dion and Whitney Houston and Julie Andrews are how I learned how to sing when I was younger.  Bette Midler is deeply important to my soul, as is Cher (I basically have the taste of a middle-aged stereotypical gay man, it’s fine).  Liza Minnelli and Judy Garland and Patti LuPone.  Love a big belter.  And then if we get away from the showtunes and divas, I love almost anything from the 60s, especially Herman’s Hermits, The Beatles and all those fabulous Motown artists.  Peter, Paul and Mary and Patsy Cline are deep loves of mine.  Jim Croce (another reason for me to love Jim Hopper, he’s a Croce fan).  And then of course we have my all time favorite bands, ABBA and Fleetwood Mac.  Deep love of jazz standards singers, especially Ella Fitzgerald and Frank Sinatra (my whole family were jazz musicians so I was raised on Sarah Vaughn and the whole Rat Pack).  Also why I have such a love of Sadie and the Hot Heads and Michael Buble. Modern artists I love are Taylor Swift, Beyonce, Ed Sheeran, Walk the Moon, Lizzo, Lil Nas X, Sugarland, Michael Buble, P!nk, Miley Cyrus, Maroon 5, Lady Gaga, Kesha, Imagine Dragons, Florence + the Machine, George Ezra and uhhhh I’ll stop it there I guess.

Current favorite songs:

(not gonna link them because I’m running late right now so here’s just five songs off the top of my head that I really love)

Back to Before by Patti LuPone (original from Ragtime performed by the amazing Marin Mazzie but I just am too obsessed with Patti’s voice)

Leaving on a Jetplane by Peter Paul and Mary (my favorite song of all time)

Mamma Mia by ABBA (has become my go-to karaoke song because I sing it really well and it’s just so fun and people love it lol)

Daylight by Taylor Swift (created an entire AU crossover fic just so I could use the lyrics in a couple chapters and this song just hits my soul real deep)

Rainbow by Kesha (”what’s left of my heart’s still made of gold” is a lyric that came to me at a very hard time in my life and it makes me cry whenever I even say it out loud and it’s very important to me)

Favorite fics: (again not linking because I don’t have time but you can find them all on ffn) Galway Girl by @rahleeyah (Spooks AU fic that changed my life and I think about it at least once a week), A Messy Kind of Love by rahleeyah (Doctor Blake fic that is the reason Leah and I became friends and one of the most impactful things I’ve ever read and also changed my life), One Fine Day by rahleeyah (Spooks AU fic she wrote for me and it’s everything I could have ever wanted), Dolce Notte and Calda Notte by @whatsabriard (Downton fics, the concepts of which have been in my head for forever and I just cannot stop thinking about how magnificent the idea is), Heartlines by ladycobert (Downton fic so good I just didn’t work at all one day so I could read it and as soon as I finished it, I read it again), The Proper Way of Things by AndAllThatMishigas (my Downton masterpiece that I’m more proud of and had more fun with than anything ever), Forever In Your Arms by AndAllThatMishigas (Doctor Blake vampire Jean which is really what I want to be known for forever), Glances by AndAllThatMishigas (City Homicide story that is probably the most perfect canon/canon divergence story ever, if I do say so myself), After by AndAllThatMishigas (Spooks post-series story that truly just made me so happy to write and makes me happy to reread) and honestly I think that is enough.

Tagging: @blossom--of--snow @yesmadamepresident @callhimnowmarisamylove @featherpluckn @aboxfullofdarkness @doctoraliceharvey @whatsabriard @lovesclassicposts @margotgrissom @mandalamarigold​

[fific7]

Dangerous and Divine - Part 6

Billy Russo x Reader

Summary: Billy Russo is an itch you don’t want to scratch. But he’s all over you like a rash.

A/N: This does not follow canon, it’s mainly fluff & lemon zest 🍋 with a side of angst. The GIF is from Exposed, unreleased pilot show in case you’re wondering 😌... Billy vibes.

Warnings: Some drinking & swearing.

(My GIF)

He made it out onto the street, looking around him in all directions, heart sinking as he couldn’t see her anywhere.

Running his fingers through his hair, Billy continued scanning the crowded streets. No.... nothing. He grabbed his phone and dialled her number. She didn’t pick up. So he texted her.

“Angel, just saw you in the restaurant. I was there for a business lunch, really hope you don’t think there was anything else to it cos there wasn’t. Please - call me back or pick up when I call.”

He tried another couple of times including FaceTime but no, she definitely wasn’t picking up. Trying once more, he let it ring through to voicemail, and left basically the same message on there. He had no intention of returning to Madani and continuing lunch - too many awkward questions to face there apart from anything else - so he went back to his car, got in, slamming his hands down onto the steering wheel a few times before starting the engine, and driving back to Anvil.

»»————————————-———-　���　———————————-————-««

You and your friend had only gone a few doors down to another restaurant, and luckily they had a table available. Once you’d ordered and had glasses of wine in your hands, your friend Karen had fixed you with a steely gaze and said, “Okay, give.”

She worked as a reporter at one of the big newspapers, and you hadn’t had the chance to catch up with her for a good few months. And you knew she wouldn’t let this go until she’d wrung all the juicy details out of you, so you took a big sip of wine and sighed.

Catching her up from the whole ex-boyfriend situation to the cocktail party and meeting your new love interest, through to becoming lovers and maybe thinking it could go somewhere, you finally got to today’s fiasco.

“So, literally as soon as we sat down, I look up and that big fucker’s walking in with some pretty girl and looking extremely comfortable with her!” You gave what could only be described as an angry growl, “I mean I’d sussed out from the get-go that he was a player, but ... uhhh!!!... how could I be so damn stupid to fall for his shit talk?!!! Telling me I was his girlfriend!!!” You blew out a big breath.

“And then...“ you switched to your fake “man” voice, “‘Oh, I got a job I’ll be on for the next couple of days, angel.’” Another angry huff from you. “Yeah, right, on a ‘job’...he was obviously gonna be ON her! For about 48 hours by the sound of it. Bitch! And he’s a fucking jerk.”

Once Karen could get a word in edgeways when your rant drew to a close, she said in a calming voice, “Honey, it sounds like you had a lucky escape. There’s a lot of them in New York, you know... fucking jerks, I mean.”

You felt your eyes welling up, but blinked the tears back fiercely, you weren’t going to cry over that stupid big douchebag. You pulled your phone out of your bag, “I mean, look! Look at what he literally put in my phone yesterday evening...” and, ignoring your notifications for the moment, you scrolled to Contacts and turned the phone towards her.

Karen rolled her eyes, “Urrrghh, how lame is that? ‘Your Boyfriend’?” shaking her head. Even though you were furious at him, you felt a twinge of annoyance at her comment. You’d thought it was quite cute. Well, you had before that little shitshow. Then she put her face closer to the screen, “Hey, wait a minute!.. lemme see his photo?”

You handed the phone to her, and she peered at the image. “Oh my god,” she breathed, looking up at you, “...what’s your guy’s name?” “Billy Russo,” you spat back, loath to even voice it. She handed you the phone back. “Well, that’s just damn spooky,” she said, looking amazed. She leant in to you, “I’ve been seeing a guy for a couple of months, his name’s Frank,” and your mouth dropped. “Billy’s got a friend called Frank!” you said, staring at her. She nodded, “Yep, works at Anvil which is owned by the one and only Billy Russo!”

She sat back, taking a long sip of her wine. “What a freaking coincidence this is,” she shook her head. “Frank’s told me a little about him, you know and I’m afraid you’re right - he sounds like a total player.” She looked at you sympathetically, “Sorry.” You waved a hand in the air, “Nothing I hadn’t guessed for myself, Karen. But... he seemed so sincere.” You laughed self-depracatingly, “I was gonna be the one who tamed the bad boy. Huh!!”

You scrolled through the notifications, realising they were all from Billy. “I think he must’ve seen me! He’s called and texted.” You read the text, huffing and showing it to Karen, who raised her eyebrows and commented, “Nice recovery, Russo.” “The voicemail’s the same,” you said, as you listened to it. “What a load of bullshit. I mean, c’mon, who walks a business lunch date to the table with his hand on her back?”

Karen nodded, “No-one, unless they wanna get slapped with a lawsuit.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy slammed his office door behind him, and threw himself into his chair, tapping out a staccato rhythm on his desktop with a long finger. He reached down, opening his bottom desk drawer and taking out a bottle of whisky and a glass. A moment later, the door opened and Frank came in, looking concerned. He took in Billy’s less-than-immaculate hair, bouncing knee and tense demeanour.

Billy waggled the whisky bottle and quirked an eyebrow at him, but Frank shook his head.

“Okay, Bill, what’s up? Something go wrong?” Billy looked up at him, scowling ferociously, “Fuck yes!” he bit out, “Frankie... everything’s gone wrong.”

Before he could say anything else, Frank’s phone rang and he held a finger up to Billy to say he was going to take the call.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he answered it, “how’re you?” Billy heard a big outburst of indecipherable speech from the phone, and then saw Frank’s eyes flick over to him. “Oh, uhhh okay.. umm right, yeah he’s here. Yeah... yep, I’ll let him know. Will I see you later?” He smiled fondly as he went on, “Okay! That’s great, see you then.” He hung up, hand going to his jaw and running over his stubbled chin, looking worried.

“Bill...” he started, just staring at him and Billy stared right back, “What?”

Frank said a name to him, his angel’s name, and continued, “You know her?” Billy nodded, “Yeah, that’s my girl.” Frank plopped down into the chair across from him, “Not sure that’s the case now.” Billy nodded, “I know. That’s what I was about to tell you. I took Madani out to lunch and my girl was in the fuckin’ restaurant.” He shook his head, “She ran right outta there and I followed but couldn’t find her. So I headed back here. Left Madani sitting there in the restaurant.”

He poured a generous slug of whisky into the glass and knocked back most of it. “Now my girl’s mad at me and Dinah’s mad at me, and this operation could be down the tube.”

Frank sighed, rubbing his big paw over his face. “And Karen’s her friend, can you believe that? So she’s mad at you too. Fuckin’ hell, Russo.”

“Yeah,” said Billy, also sighing. “How the fuck am I gonna fix this?”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Dinah Madani was not a happy bunny. She stomped into her office, yelling out “Sam!!!” as she went. He hurried in behind her. “Something wrong, Dinah?” She gave him a contemptuous look, “I see you’ve been working on your powers of observation. Well done! Yes, something’s wrong!” Sitting down behind her desk, she glared up at him, “Russo!!! That’s what wrong. That piece of shit.”

Inwardly, Sam laughed to himself. Despite Madani’s sarcastic gibe at his perceptiveness, he’d quickly realised as soon as Russo had popped up in this case that Madani had the serious hots for him. She thought she’d been getting somewhere with him, both on the case and personally, but now something must’ve put a spanner in the works on either one or both of those.

“What’s pretty boy done now?” he asked, trying and failing to completely hide his smirk. She scowled at him, “We’d gone out for lunch - to discuss the case,” she hastily added, and Sam thought to himself ‘yeah, right, and what were you hoping dessert was gonna be?’

“He spotted someone leaving the restaurant and off he goes, saying he’s got to catch up with them.” She viciously powered up her laptop. “Think it was a woman,” she mumbled. “Sorry, what?” said Sam innocently. “I said, I think it was a woman!” spat out Madani, “are you deaf or something?”

Sam smirked again, “Oh. Dear. Someone to do with the case, you think?” She stared at her screen, “How should I know? But that bastard’s got some explaining to do.”

Well this afternoon was gonna be a complete blast, thought Sam.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You’d returned to Chelsea, and spent the whole afternoon getting under your team’s feet in the café. Not wanting to sit and brood in your office, you’d busied yourself ‘helping them out’, when in fact they didn’t actually need any assistance. And you could sense you were vaguely irritating them. But you didn’t feel up to telling them what the problem was.

Eventually, you’d asked if one of them wanted the rest of the day off as paid leave, and Gabrielle had jumped at the chance. Her older sister had just recently popped out another baby, and she was keen to visit and fulfill her role as doting aunt.

The two guys had watched you warily for the rest of the day, in case all your nervous energy ended up causing some kind of coffee-shop catastrophe. You sent them off at the end of the day, saying you’d close up yourself. Which turned out to be a mistake. Looking vacantly out at the street, you closed and locked the door when they left, and that’s when you spotted the Wraith, parked diagonally opposite the café.

Resting your forehead against the cool glass of the door for a moment, knowing you should really have anticipated that this would be Billy’s next move when you didn’t respond to his attempts at contacting you. Either turn up here or at your apartment. Not difficult to work out. You got the fright of your life as the doorway suddenly darkened, and long legs clad in suit trousers and a pair of shiny black shoes appeared in your line of vision. You’d jumped back in surprise and Billy leant one one arm on the door, staring in at you and mouthing “Please?” at you, followed by (you thought), “I just wanna explain.”

You’d looked away from his pleading eyes, contemplating what you were going to do. Let him in, don’t let him in. You couldn’t deny you wanted to hear his explanation. In all its no-doubt manufactured glory. So, heaving a big sigh, you unlocked the door and immediately walked away to the counter, leaving him to actually open the door and walk in. A small victory, you thought. You hadn’t actually let him in after all. Sort of.

“Coffee?” you asked over your shoulder. “Please.” You made an Americano for him, and a caffé corretto for yourself. You weren’t too fond of grappa, so topped up the espresso with some brandy. Billy, who was leaning on the counter watching you, raised an eyebrow at you. “Ooh, that bad, huh? Can I get some too?” You just stared at him, and he added, “Please?” so you added a shot to his coffee and handed it to him.

Sipping your own strong and bracing beverage, you leaned back against the unit behind you, face neutral, waiting. He took a long drink of his fortified coffee, eyes never leaving yours. He carefully placed the cup back into the saucer, leaning his arms on the counter and looking back up at you, the tip of his tongue swiftly moving over his bottom lip.

“I know you’ll probably think this is total bullshit, but I promise you it’s not,” he said into the silence. You nodded, “Mmhmm.” His eyes drilled into yours, sincerity shining out of them, “That was purely a business lunch. She’s a Homeland agent, and Frankie and I are... in the middle of something with that agency. I can’t tell you any of the details... yet. I’m sorry.”

You huffed out a long breath. “Firstly, Billy, since when does a business lunch entail walking the woman to a table with a hand on her back?” He winced, but you weren’t finished, “And right now, to me, the only thing you looked like getting into the middle of was her.” This time he flinched back from the venom in your voice, but he maintained eye contact with you.

“Angel, I swear to you... On. My. Life. There is nothing and will never be anything between me and Agent Madani.” So.... Agent Madani, your brain rolled the words around your mind. “We’re in a joint operation with them, and I need to make sure she doesn’t drop us out of the loop, they’re good at doing that.”

“And how’re you doing that, Billy? With ‘business lunches’, with lots of flirting? She got the hots for you, hmmm Billy? Yeah? So, ultimately with sex? Keep her really sweet?”

Damn, you knew you’d hit the nail right on the head. His face had flushed, guilt written all over him and he’d slid back on the counter slightly. You’d like to bet that If he hadn’t met you, that’s exactly what would’ve happened. Maybe he’d just not got that far down his timetable with her yet.

You stared intently into his eyes, “Slept with her yet, Billy?” He straightened up to his full height, looking down at you, a strange distant expression in his eyes. “No, angel, I haven’t. And I can’t deny what you’ve just said. That was the plan. Me and Frankie need to know what information and leads she’s got. Yeah, she’d like to fuck me, she’s made that pretty obvious. But we hadn’t quite got to that stage yet.” He took a deep breath, and said in a rush, “We had a drink after work one night, and I kissed her.”

“Uhuh. Did you.” Statement, not question, folding your arms over your chest.

“Before we met!” he hastily added, emphasising the ‘before’, “...it happened days before we met. And it was purely business to me. Nothing more.” “Really? She’s pretty hot.” You could tell he spent a split second thinking how best to reply and keep his balls intact at the same time. “Well, yeah she is... but the spark’s not there for me. She doesn’t float my boat. Not like you do.” You smirked, good answer Russo!

“So what would your schedule have been?” He looked at you, puzzled, “What d’you mean?”

“Flirt, tick. Kiss, tick,” you made little air ticking motions with your finger. “Fuck...? Now, just when would that’ve been on the table, Billy?” He looked away from you, shaking his head, “I dunno. Whenever it would’ve been necessary.” Glancing back at you, “Look, I know this sounds really...” “Shitty?” you supplied. He allowed himself a small grin, “Yeah, shitty,” then the grin dropped. “But this is life and death, angel, and it means finally clearing our names as long as it all goes down okay.” You decided to spare Billy the verbal barb which had popped effortlessly into your head, along the lines of ‘would it depend on who went down on who?’

But you didn’t, instead saying. “Oh right, that’d be clearing your name from when you and Frank got arrested by Homeland, yes?” Billy gave you a hint of a smile, “So, you have been digging after all.”

You nodded, “Yes, I have. Not that I found out much. The dead CIA guy, him having funded you, you guys getting arrested. That was pretty much it.” He nodded, “That’s the bare bones of it, the important parts though. I promise you that as soon as I can, I’ll tell you the whole sorry story. We’re still right in the... it’s all still goin’ on right now.”

You smirked to yourself, you knew he’d changed what he’d been about to say as he was saying it, in case you took another dig at him about exactly what he was in the middle of.

He moved round the counter, and stood next to you. His dark eyes looked huge as they stared into yours, “I promise you, angel, you’re the only woman I’m interested in. The only one I want to be with. Please say you believe me.” The annoying thing was, you did. You didn’t like what he’d told you - that basically if you hadn’t been on the scene he’d have slept with Madani to keep her ‘on side’ - but you did believe that he hadn’t had sex with her. You thought that the small snippet of her body language you’d observed had screamed ‘I want him’ but not the casual touching and languid looks of ‘I’ve had him’.

You gave a big sigh. “Okay, Russo, I believe you.” A look of pure relief crossed his face, and he immediately grabbed both of your hands, pulling you close and kissing you hungrily. You pulled away after a few moments, just as he was trying to deepen the kiss. “But you’re on parole for a while.” He groaned, which became a laugh, “Okay, yeah... whatever you want, angel. For however long you want. I guess I deserve some punishment.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

After closing up, you and Billy crossed the road and headed towards his car. He beeped his car remote at it as he approached and then opened the passenger door for you. As you folded yourself into the seat, he put one arm on the door frame and leant in to kiss you again. “Sneaky,” you said as you moved your lips away from his. “Always,” he replied and smiled widely at you. He seemed very happy to have been granted ‘parole’, you thought.

As Billy drove off in the direction of his place - realising this produced a part-exasperated smirk on your face - you contemplated what a fucking awful, emotional, but ultimately good day you’d had.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Someone else was stewing about precisely the same thing. Only without the good ending.

Dinah Madani had a furious scowl on her face as she put her SUV into Drive and pulled out into the traffic flow, following Billy’s car.

She’d just watched that whole little pantomime as he’d opened the car door for that woman, then leant in and obviously kissed her, although she hadn’t been able to actually see that from her vantage point a couple of cars behind his.

When she’d followed Billy from Anvil out to Chelsea earlier on, for the life of her she couldn’t figure out why he’d headed into a coffee shop, of all places. She’d discovered that she couldn’t see into the café from where she was parked, and didn’t want to break cover and walk over to the window in case Billy spotted her.

Then out he’d trotted, hand in hand with whoever this woman was - a waitress in a coffee shop? “Classy, Russo, very classy,” she said out loud, in a bitchy voice. She could ask him about it, she thought, but knowing him he’d more than likely tell her it was none of her business.

Well, she was going to make it her business to find out whatever she could about this apparent liaison of his. She pulled over and watched as his car disappeared into the underground carpark of his apartment block.

It could have some bearing on the case, she thought, trying to justify this course of action to herself.

She ignored that other little voice in her head which said to her that she was just plain jealous.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

@blackbirddaredevil23 @galaxyjane

[brianc521]

Behind the Bar

Better Late Than Never | Part 2

It’s like time’s frozen around the two while they stare at each other behind the bar. Both in complete shock to be seeing the other. 

“Hadley.” Jacob breathes out, blinking a few times to make sure he isn’t dreaming.

He takes a moment to study her features. Long gone is the girl who used to hide herself behind her hair. Long gone are the baggy clothes she used to hide her body. There’s no book in her hand, and he wonders if she’s breathing okay because of it. The thought has him grinning. 

“Jacob Palmer.” She laughs, shaking her head. She shamelessly checks him out, eyes lingering on his arms for a beat too long. She admires the intricate torch tattooed on his left bicep, the handle etched with a ‘EKP’. Jacob flexes his arms, in hopes of some sort of reaction as he catches her staring, and it makes her blink quickly. She looks back up at him with flushed cheeks and a shy smile. “Never in a million years did I think I’d run into you.” 

He laughs, nervously scratching the back of his neck. “I figured you’d skipped town after high school. Got away from all of us riff raff, went off and did bigger and better things.” 

It’s after the words tumble out of his mouth does his brain register what he’s just said. Her whole face drops, something flashing through her eyes. It’s the same look she would have when someone gave her shit in high school for liking to read. It was a look he read easily. It was hurt, pain, embarrassment. That look doesn’t last long before she clears her throat. She pulls her shoulders back, standing a little taller. Her eyebrow raises at him in an unimpressed way, her cheeks red hot. 

“Wow okay, let me take over this conversation before he sounds like even more of an ass.” Teri interrupts. “I was starting to think you two knowing each other was a good thing, now I’m rethinking who I have Hadley training with.” She eyes Jacob. 

“No.” He blurts. “I’m sorry.” He reaches a soft hand out to Hadley. He touches her wrist, her eyes flicking to his touch and then back up to his face. “I didn’t mean it like that. I swear.” He desperately says, chest tightening in panic. “Wow, I’m a fucking idiot.” He mutters to himself, but both women hear, nodding right along with him. “What I meant was, I never thought I’d see you again. And I’m glad that I am.” He gives a small smile, thumb rubbing on the pulse point of her wrist.

It’s a soft touch, a welcome touch. Hadley can’t remember the last time she felt something like this. 

“Right after high school was a bad time for me.” She says too quickly, gently taking her wrist from his hand. “But I’m doing bigger and better things now. I’m past the bad times.” 

There’s a story there, and it’s got Jacob intrigued. He squints at her for a moment, trying to see if he can read it through her body language. He likes to think he’s always been a good judge of character, but he can’t read her. Something’s off, something is totally different than the Hadley he went to high school with. He just can’t quite tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. 

“Okay, well, while I love the reunion, we kind of have a busy house tonight.” Teri brings both of their attention to herself. “So Stevens has been behind a bar before,” She explains to Jacob. “Just nothing to our caliber. Show her the ropes, teach her the drinks, explain the tab system. I pulled Hawkins,” She points to Chelsea, who’s making a drink. “From the floor to give you some backup while you train Stevens.” 

Jacob nods, giving Teri a mock salute. “You got it Captain.” He grins, watching Teri roll her eyes and flip him off at the same time. “At ease soldier.” He teases. 

“Stevens.” She looks to Hadley. “By mid shift I want you on your own. I know you’ll need some more training, but we don’t have time for Jacob to hold your hand all night.” She shrugs. “He’s my best bartender, which is why I let him run it back here, and we’ve got 2 bachelor parties coming in. Also, the college down the road let out on spring break, so expect a lot of frat boys.” She points to both of them. “I want all ID’s checked at the bar, you hear me?” 

Hadley nods, and Jacob gives another sarcastic salute.

“Boy you’re gonna lose your job tonight.” Teri warns him.

“Oh come on Ter, I almost lose my job every night. You just love me too much to let me go.” He winks. 

“Last but not least,” Teri ignores Jacob, turning back to Hadley. “If you have any trouble you tell Palmer immediately. You got me?” 

Jacob nods, turning to face Hadley. “Hads.” He says softly, gently touching her shoulder to catch her attention. Her big brown eyes flick up to his stubbly face, holding all the innocence she’s always had. “If someone looks at you funny, says something that makes your skin crawl, anything that makes you feel unsafe you scream my name like it’s the last word you’ll ever be able to say. I’m not joking, okay?” 

“Okay.” She nods, at both Jacob and Teri. “I got it.” She assures them, although in the back of her head she can’t help but think that no one can be worse than Brody. No one can make her feel the way Brody did. The thought of his name alone makes her want to claw out of her skin and burn it. 

Teri nods at them. Turning on her heels and walking off without another word. She’s off to check in on all the girls working the floor. Making sure patrons are keeping their hands to themselves, respecting her staff. Who needs more than one bouncer when you have Teri running the show. 

“Here,” Jacob hands Hadley a spare apron from the hook behind the bar. “It’s nice to keep like a pen, notepad, straws and shit like that on hand. Usually on slow nights I hide my phone in there too, that way if I need to be reached I can be.”

Hadley watches him intently while tying the apron around her waist. She follows him as he quickly goes up to the bar. 

“Hey man,” He greets a customer. “How are you?” 

“Jake!” The customer cheers. He looks dirty, long hair that’s going gray. He’s skinny, unnaturally skinny. He’s wearing a black Motley Crue shirt, it’s tucking into his skinny jeans. “I was hoping you were working tonight.” 

“Ryan, this is Hadley.” Jacob introduces her. “She’s a new tender,” He explains, slapping Ryan’s outstretched hand away. “Be nice.” He warns. He then turns to Hadley. “This is Ryan, our biggest regular. He doesn’t bite, unless you ask.” 

Ryan sends a flirty wink to Hadley, one side of his mouth lifting into a grin, showing off his yellow teeth. 

“Do I wanna know how you know that?” She asks Jacob, eyes bouncing back and forth between them.

Ryan barks out a laugh, hand coming down to slap at the top of the counter. “That was good. She’ll survive here, seems like she keeps on her toes.” He states, pointing at her but looking at Jacob.

“Well,” Hadley pushes in front of Jacob, pushing a black cocktail napkin on the countertop. “You can speak to me like I’m right here, because I am.” She points to herself. “Unless you’re three shots in, then there might be three of me. You seem like a lightweight.” 

Ryan stands straight, both hands settling on the countertop as he glares at her. Jacob stands behind her, trying to hold back his laugh. “Whiskey sour.” He orders.

“Okay.” She smiles, getting to work on his drink. “So you’re the biggest regular? What’s that mean?” 

“Well when the doors open? I’m the first in. When they close at night? I’m the last out.” He grins, arms crossing against his chest like that’s the highest you can get in life. 

“Oh,” She nods. “Gotcha, well in that case I think I’m gonna call you Gallagher.” She puts the glass on the napkin, sliding it over to him.

“Gallagher?” Ryan asks.

“As in Frank Gallagher.” She explains. “From Shameless.” Nodding to her hand that’s held out for his payment. 

“Put it on my tab.” He points with his chin. 

“Give me something to start a tab with.” She raises an eyebrow at him. 

Ryan grumbles, digging into his back pocket and slapping his debit card into her hand. 

“Thanks Gallagher, enjoy your drink.” She smiles, turning around and running smack into Jacob. “Oh shit, sorry.” She looks up at him. “I forgot you were there.” She blurts. 

“Do I even need to train you?” He asks, a smile bright on his face. He’s highly impressed with the way she handled Ryan. He can get lippy, and try to get away with claiming he’s already paid. 

“I mean,” She shrugs. “I worked at a bar straight out of high school. Needed something to pay the bills. It’s been a few years since I’ve been behind the bar but it’s like riding a bike. Skills never go away, all customers are the same.” 

“Okay, well then, do your thing. If you need anything just holler.” He nods, turning to get started with the group of guys that just crowded the right corner.

**

By the time the bar is closed Hadley has created a spot for herself behind the bar. They had a few learning curves for working around each other but by the middle of the shift Teri was able to put Chelsea back on the floor. It was like they’d been partners working together for years. It just flowed, they understood the others' notes on things, they didn’t argue or have issues helping the others customers. 

Personally, that’s where the awkwardness comes in. They didn’t talk at all during the night. There was never a down moment to talk. So it makes the two of them alone in the back break area very quiet. The tension is thick, and Jacob can’t stop looking at her, and she can’t stop trying to avoid his stare. 

“So,” Jacob speaks up, leaning his back against the lockers. “Did you just move back?”

“Um yeah.” She answers, pulling her hoodie over her head. “I moved to Washington with my boyfriend,” She stops herself. “Well now ex boyfriend. He got accepted to Washington State, and I planned on going to a community college.” 

He perks up, loving how easily she opens up to him. “What’d you study?” He asks, turning to grab his phone and wallet. 

“That’s just the thing,” She grimaces, “He went to school, we got an apartment, but with his full work course who was gonna bring home money to pay the bills? So I got a job, told him I’d start school later, except later never came.” She brushes over her past quickly. 

Jacob can tell there’s a more in-depth story there. That there’s more in the dark parts that she won’t shine light too. 

“What happened?” He asks, following her to the front of the bar where Teri was finishing closing up. 

She laughs in a self depreciating way. “It’s a long story Jacob, it’s okay.” She waves him off.

“I’d like to-” He starts, being interrupted.

“Make sure you have your tips everyone! Let’s go.” Teri calls out. 

They all crowd the door, waiting for Teri to unlock it. Everyone shuffles out, soft mumbles floating through the quiet calm of the night outside. Jacob stays behind, waiting for Teri to lock back up. 

“Make sure you get some good groceries okay? I saw the way those sorority girls were tipping you. Make sure you get fruit loops, she’s been going crazy for them lately.” Teri says over her shoulder.

They walk together to their cars. Jacob always makes sure to park next to Teri, that way he can ensure she gets to her vehicle safely. He’s about to duck into his car when he catches a glimpse of Hadley walking down the sidewalk.

She's holding tightly to her bag that’s slung across her shoulder. Body huddled in on itself as a way to fight off the cold of the night. 

“Hads!” He calls out, watching her jump and then look over at him. He didn’t mean to scare her, but if it got her attention he’d do it again. “The fuck are you doing?” He asks. 

“Going home?” She jabs a thumb over her shoulder, pointing in the direction she was walking. 

“On foot?” He questions, receiving a nod. “At 2:30 in the morning?” Another nod. “Are you out of your goddamn mind?” 

“How else would you like me to get home?” She asks, throwing her arms out to her sides. 

“Get in.” He tilts his head towards his car. 

“I can’t ask you to do that.” She shakes her head, silently hoping he’ll leave her be.

“You aren’t asking, I’m telling you to get in my fucking car. I’m not letting you walk home at 2:30 in the morning alone.” 

She sighs, weighing her options. Does she let Jacob take her home, allowing him to find out she lives in her mother's old trailer? The trailer that housed her most of her high school days? The trailer that her mother so graciously left her when she went on a bender that ended up killing her? 

Or does she walk home and risk that someone else finds her and forces her a ride to god knows where? 

One option is better than the other. The better option leaves her embarrassed and wishing she’ll never see Jacob again. The other leaves her dead in a ditch somewhere. With that revelation she makes her way over to his Camry. He smiles when she starts walking towards him, and it’s a smile that makes her stomach fill with butterflies. The same way it did when she was in high school. 

He quickly gets in, leaning over to the passenger seat and opens the door from the inside. He grins sheepishly when she slides into the seat. 

“Sorry.” He breathes out. “The handles broken from the outside.” 

She laughs, and shakes her head. “What happened to the Jacob Palmer who rode his Harley to school everyday?” She asks, looking over at him. 

“Life happens.” He shrugs, cranking his key three times before he can get the engine to turn over. 

She eyes him suspiciously, seeing how much he’s aged since they graduated. He’s got a story behind his tired eyes, and worry caused wrinkles. It’s a story she wants to hear, and she’s 100 percent sure it’s a story she would have never guessed would be his to tell.

“So,” He turns to look at her once the windshield is defrosted enough to see through. “Where to?” His devilish smirk on his handsome face as her thinking maybe she should have gone with the other option.

[tenglows]

hi! can you write a a Jaemin enemies-to-lovers with 2+4+8?

[ 2: need any help there? ] + [ 4: ask me tomorrow, maybe you'll get a different answer ] + [ 8: kiss me again and you'll see ]

the prompts

you smiled while trailing a finger through the place cards on one of the tables. you couldn’t believe your friend, who you had known for years, was getting married tomorrow.

“y/n!” you heard a voice, and you snapped your head to find nicole wearing a beautiful, light blue dress.

“you look beautiful” you complimented, hugging her tightly. “everything looks so beautiful”

the venue was decorated with unity candles, fairy light jars, and leaf string lights. you thought about all the work that must have been put into the place, it had certainly paid off. everything was perfect. and you were already getting emotional.

“here, let me show you your seat” you nodded, nicole wrapping an arm around your waist and turning around.

you walked behind your friend, until she seemed to be walking in a direction you didn’t want to reach. you stopped on your tracks, eyes narrowing trying to see if your mind was playing tricks on you.

“what’s wrong?”

“is that...” you asked, not fully convinced that the boy in the black shirt was truly who you thought he was.

“na jaemin, yes it is” your eyes opened wide.

“why did you seat me with him!” you exlaimed in a low voice, not wanting to catch his attention even if you couldn’t look away.

“come on, y/n. you hated each other in college. you’re grown ups now” she talked in an obvious tone, pushing your body towards the table. she groaned and sat you down on the chair, despite your stubborn attempts to escape her hold.

“look who it is” he raised an eyebrow, tongue on his cheek. “the y/n”

“in the flesh” you smiled tauntingly. nicole’s hands were firm on your shoulders, communicating you to behave yourself.

“well, isn’t this crazy? reconnecting after all these years?” both of you rolled your eyes at her words simultaneously. she scoffed. “come on, be nice. doesn’t she look good, jaemin?”

“ask me tomorrow, maybe you'll get a different answer”

“why?” you asked defensively.

“i need to be drunk to admit that”

the next day, you were grateful you still hadn't torn all your hair out. the reason behind it was that you had actually not talked to jaemin at the rehearsal dinner. for your delight, you spent it catching up with another acquaintance from college. so it was nice.

today, however, sasha was way more concentrated on having a conversation with the man in front of her. and then you were left alone, observing how the people danced and watching nicole and his husband kissing each other's noses.

the ceremony had been beautiful. and you had shed a tear or two. it was beautiful, the kind of love nicole and frank had for the other. weddings always got to your heart in a manner no other thing could.

“need any help there?”

“why do you think that?”

“you look bored” jaemin tilted his head towards the girl that was supposed to keep you company.

“and what are my options, talking to you?”

“for starters” he nodded. “if you don’t want to die of boredom”

you played with the big macaron in your plate for a few minutes. you really were tired of holding a conversation with yourself in your mind.

“what are you up to?” you asked, not looking at him.

“at the moment, i’m co-directing a series of short documentaries at a friend’s company”

“look at you” you acclaimed.

“i know, unexpected right?” he let out a chuckle. he would always preach about how he would become a famous movie producer one day. “what about you? pursued journalism like you always wanted to?”

“that’s right”

“do they make it easier for you than i did?”

“not really” you laughed.

there didn’t use to be one class in which jaemin wouldn’t disagree with whatever opinion you had. that was what eventually made you hate him.

“see, i was only making you improve your argumentative skills”

you were interrupted by one bridesmaid’s toast. when she was finished, and more eyes had watered, jaemin called your name as he stood up from the chair.

“i’m gonna head outside for a bit, i need some fresh air. wanna come?”

honestly, if this had happened a few years ago, the option of saying yes wouldn’t had even crossed your mind. but it was either go with the boy, or stay here. watching the other people beside you on the table giving love eyes to each other.

following jaemin through the gardens, you discovered the outside was just as enchanting as the insides of the place. the bushes were trimmed with such delicacy it made them appear like they had grown like that. the weather and the sky played a part on the scenario as well, it had been days since there was such a glowing night.

“you look beautiful”

“what, are you drunk enough now to think that?” you played. he took a step closer to you.

“no, i’m drunk enough to master up the courage to say it”

under the moonlight his eyelashes looked like strings of gold itself. he was so close to your face, and he had changed so much. he still had that cheeky, teethy grin though. it never went out of style. you knew he was moving closer, his breath collapse against yours and it made your skin react with warmth and zeal.

no matter how much he kept leaning in, you felt like he would never get to touch your lips. it took too long, and you could almost feel it. you could almost taste the kiss.

you savored the fresh wine and cocktails in his mouth, and you didn’t know if you were sliding in your tongue with that depth because you wanted to get drunk on the alcohol or on him. but his hands fondled your dress before you could realize and you directed yours to his combed hair. the music from the venue was heard from the distance, but you could only concentrate on the sound his lips made against yours. on the music of bliss.

“it’s not as easy to hate me as it was before, isn’t it?” jaemin spoke, pulling away just a bit. enough for you to find his gaze before drowning in his taste once again.

“kiss me again and you’ll see”.

[goatsandgangsters]

Connect (Con Man AU; Chapter 3)

Characters: Meyer Lansky, Charlie Luciano, Benny Siegel, Frank Costello Pairing: Meyer/Charlie Word Count: ~5,000

(also on ao3)

“How’s it looking?” Meyer’s voice—though he seldom raised it—echoed louder than usual as he entered the empty room. The ceiling wasn’t high, but the exposed concrete and beams made everything sound louder than it was, his footsteps sharp and distinct.

Benny sat perched on the windowsill before a wide expanse of tinted glass, the large Citgo sign behind him. He looked up from the wad of cash he was counting, a plastic spoon dangling from the corner of his mouth. “Not great,” he said around the spoon.

Meyer stopped in front of him and bristled. “Not great?”

Benny offered a toothy grin, plucking the spoon from his mouth. “The clam chowder, I mean. Not all it’s cracked up to be, you know.”

Meyer let out a sigh that was equal parts relief and frustration, rounding instead on Frank for a straight answer. “What about you?”

“I didn’t have any. Seafood doesn’t agree with me. Besides, my wife’s got me doing this cleanse, so I’m only supposed to eat—”

“Will somebody—” Meyer said sharply, “please tell me about the damn Red Sox.”

“Oh, yeah, them. Probably gonna win,” Benny shrugged. “Unless they all get sick from this clam chowder. Chowdah,” he amended, adopting a mocking accent as he tossed his half-full cup halfway across the room into an open box.

Meyer smiled wryly, clasping his hands together as he looked out the window. It was early afternoon, the sun still high in the sky, but he knew that soon those stadium lights would be burning hot and bright around the green edges of Fenway Park. “Well, don’t go slipping them any. We need them to win the World Series.”

Frank scooped Benny’s chowder cup out of the box and set it on the ground. “And don’t go messing up the merchandise, alright?”

“And this location. It’s secured?” Meyer asked as he cocked his head and peered down into the boxes. Frank was good with logistics—he knew people, knew which palms to grease, plus he had out-of-town connections in several major cities outside of New York. But, for as reliable as he knew Frank to be, Meyer knew it was better never to rely on anyone else.

“Secure and discrete, with a backdoor in case of emergency,” Frank confirmed.

From the windowsill, Benny laughed. “Sounds like a Craigslist ad.”

Neither Frank nor Meyer paid the comment any attention, as Frank continued rattling off a list of checks and information.

“Good. I want everything set up before Game 1,” Meyer said as he and Frank finished talking over the finer points.

“Where’re you goin’?” Benny asked, jumping down from his perch. The sound of his turquoise sneakers slapping the concrete floor reverberated around the room.

Frank handled moving the merchandise, buying, reselling, underselling, overselling. He took care of the practicalities of the operation with the same care that Meyer took in the planning. Meyer handled the numbers, the details, all the information they needed. They didn’t need to worry about encryption when they had the most secure data storage in the world—Meyer’s memory. Betting, selling, scamming. Credit cards. Even hacking when things got slow. Gambling was the big money-maker for sports, but any large event brought all kinds of other opportunities with it. It was all about volume. Keeping as many fingers in as many pies, but never an entire hand—so to speak. Enough to get by, to keep moving, to afford the next round of jobs, but not enough to be noticed. Not enough to raise suspicion.

“I need to crunch some numbers in peace. No distractions.” He pointed a finger at Benny as he turned back towards the door.

Benny fixed him with one of those looks that used to mean his mother was about to get a call home from the principal’s office. “When have I ever been distracting?”

Fortunately, it was a short trip back to the hotel—only a few stops by train. He had been advised by everyone to avoid driving in Boston at all costs, which was a shame. Meyer had so little opportunity to get behind the wheel back home that it was one of his favorite parts of out-of-town jobs. Certainly better than the little bars of soap he still felt wasteful leaving behind in hotels.

The hotel itself was an ornate building downtown. It was fancier than suited Meyer’s personal tastes, but this wasn’t about his preferences. Besides, he noted as he crossed the street from the train and walked across the brick plaza, the hotel was right next to the library. Not that he would have much time for reading during the World Series, but it was nice to have close by all the same. Maybe he could bring his notebook across the street for some quiet.

The doorman held the door as he entered; Meyer nodded and thanked him. It would always make him a bristle a little, being treated like some kind of big shot when he was more than capable of opening his own doors, thank you. His ego didn’t need someone to do it for him—but this was a “big shot” kind of job. The World Series was a big deal. He had a part to play.

He fished his key card from his wallet as he entered the lobby, but the woman behind the front desk waved him down. “Sir? Excuse me, sir? Your husband wanted me to let you know that he’s waiting for you in the hotel restaurant.”

“My… husband?” Meyer hesitated, keeping his face neutral.

“Yes, he said that his phone died and you’d already checked in, so he’d wait for you for dinner.”

Meyer managed a tight smile. “Thank you,” as he reversed direction from the elevators and through the doors into the plush, maroon-carpeted hotel restaurant. It was early enough in the day that there were not many people inside. A couple at the bar, one or two tables filled. At the far side, by the window, a familiar face sat with his knees up against the table, typing away on his “dead” phone.

So much for no distractions.

He walked over, pulled out a chair, and sat down. “When exactly did we get married?”

“You’re so bad at rememberin’ our anniversary,” Charlie teased, looking up at him with a smirk. He dropped his feet back to the floor, grinning, but Meyer was all business.

“How’d you find me?” he asked, giving Charlie a steady stare. Running into each other by chance in Manhattan was one thing. Charlie finding his hotel in Boston—when he had no reason to even know Meyer would be in another state and city altogether—was another matter. He needed to figure out which security breach he had to close.

“I’m lucky,” Charlie answered with a cheeky grin. Meyer raised an eyebrow; he caved. “Alright, fine. After you disappeared on me without givin’ your number, I asked around,” Charlie explained, shooting Meyer a fond-but-grudging look that almost made it seem like they actually were a couple. Meyer had to commend his commitment to a rouse.

“I figure, Meyer ain’t exactly a common name, but nobody’s got any idea who I’m talkin’ about. For bein’ the best in the biz, you’re either way under the radar or you got everybody too scared to talk. But finally, I find a guy who tells me you work big sporting events. I’m thinkin’, 2013 World Series got your name all over it.” Charlie paused and took a sip from his glass of water. “Besides, I ain’t ever been to Boston before. Never been outta the five boroughs, actually.”

He looked at Meyer expectantly, who nodded as he digested the information. Charlie was right about one thing—he did operate under the radar. It was safer that way. He had other people who could be the front, who could strike the deals, shake the hands, meet the contacts. Meyer organized it all. “So you’ve just been wandering the streets of a major metropolitan area in the hopes of running into me by chance? You do know how many people are coming in for the game, right?”

“That’s the thing, though!” Charlie said, emphatic and excited, sitting forward in his seat. “That’s how it happened.”

Meyer raised an eyebrow, opening his mouth to offer a retort, when the waiter appeared to refill their water and take their orders for drinks. Charlie—practiced and confident—ordered a cocktail involving peaches and vodka that made Meyer’s teeth ache just thinking about it. Meyer opted for pernod, while Charlie tacked on an order for pretzel bites and beer cheese with an award-winning smile.

Meyer took a sip of water and looked out the window at the people passing by in Copley Square. “Really? Pretzel bites?”

“If you don’t want any, more for me,” Charlie teased.

“I’m just surprised that a place like this even has pretzel bites.”

Charlie flipped open the black leather menu book. “What, so I should order some ‘olive oil poached octopus’ when he comes back?”

Meyer grimaced. “Pretzels will be just fine. But don’t think you’re getting out of this easily. I believe I’m still owed an explanation.”

Charlie leaned against the high-backed leather chair; he seemed to be enjoying this, retelling his detective work. At least it wasn’t hard to get him talking. Useful flaw. “Alright, so I get here, figure next step’s gotta be Fenway, maybe start askin’ around, see if anybody who’s in the business here knows anything about you.”

“Seems doubtful, considering you didn’t have much luck with that on our home turf.”

“Hey, I gotta plenty of luck, thanks. ‘Cause there I am, gettin’ a slice of pizza, courtesy of some guy’s wallet—and it ain’t New York pizza, I’ll tell you that much—”

Meyer smirked. “I don’t hear great things about the clam chowder, either.”

“That’s just it! There I am, eatin’ my shit pizza, and there’s these two guys. When’s Meyer meetin’ us, and suddenly I’m all ears.”

“I’m not the only person in the entire world named Meyer, you know.”

Charlie ignored this point and kept talking. “So the one guy—beanpole, can’t stand still—he’s all, how come Meyer gets that swanky Copley hotel and we’re in a Best Western. And the other guy—looks like an Eddie Bauer catalog—he’s sayin’, well you know Meyer, all cautious, wants to stay separate. So now I’m here and I was right.”

Charlie grinned in satisfaction, evidently quite pleased with himself and his work, even though it was nothing but stupid dumb luck and stupid dumb Benny and Frank. Meyer clenched his teeth; he’d be having a word with them about being so cavalier with their details in public, where anyone could overhear.

“Well,” Meyer said, brushing a few lingering crumbs from earlier patrons off the table and into the palm of his hand, “I’ve never had a stalker before. Is that standard in your repertoire, or are you branching out?”

Charlie scoffed, indignant. “I’m not a stalker!”

“What do you call following me all the way to Boston?”

“Skill.”

Meyer snorted, which seemed to get under Charlie’s skin.

“Come on, admit it. You’re impressed!��

He wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction so easily. “Maybe I’m just creeped out.” It was unbelievable, after all, that he could come all the way to Boston and Charlie could still track him down in one afternoon all because of some goddamn clam chowder. And more than a little worrying. If Charlie could do it, who else?

“Listen,” Charlie said, sitting forward and drumming his fingers against the menu. He spoke quickly in a lowered voice, a look in his eyes as he met Meyer’s. “If I’m honest, I didn’t think it’d work, but then I found you and—and it’s like what you said. Things connect. Like us.”

Meyer sat back. “You’re twisting my words. That’s about strategy, you’re talking… fate.”

Charlie cocked his head. “You sayin’ you don’t believe in it?”

Meyer scoffed. “No, of course not. Do you? Fate is nothing more than what you make of it.”

“And I made it here.”

They fell into silence as the waiter set their drinks down on the table. The moment he was out of earshot, Charlie raised his glass with a winning smile. “So what do you say?”

“About fate?”

“About me. Whatever you got goin’ on, I want in.”

Meyer paused, tracing a finger along the outside of his glass. “I’m not sure it will work.” Rather than look at Charlie’s face—like someone had killed his puppy—Meyer riffled through his bag instead. “If you come onboard… Something tells me you’re a Yankees guy, but we need someone to be the idiot fan,” he said as he pulled out a Red Sox cap.

Charlie’s face split into a grin as he reached for the hat. “Anything for you, honey.”

Despite himself, Meyer laughed and clinked their glasses together.

*****

They didn’t order the Prime New York Strip, despite Charlie’s insistence that they have a full dinner instead of drinks and appetizers. Really, he just wanted to order the most expensive thing on the menu.

But, Meyer had said, there were better cuts.

Charlie couldn’t tell if he was being a snob or offering to buy him a nicer steak dinner later. Either way, he planned on sticking around to find out.

A short while—and several people’s wallets—later, Meyer was leading him into a building across from Fenway Park. The wallets weren’t part of the plan, per se, but Charlie wasn’t about to cram his ass onto an overcrowded, stopping-and-starting, screechy excuse for a subway without making it worth his while. Meyer noticed, of course, and said nothing; he only smirked. And maybe Charlie liked showing off a little, liked the way Meyer kept his lips in a stern little line, but his eyes crinkled in the corner as Charlie lifted a pair of designer sunglasses from a stuffy business type with a bit of bravado.

He liked the way Meyer moved through the crowds like no one could touch him, as though the sweaty ambling bodies around them were water he could part effortlessly with the angle of his shoulder. He didn’t walk into the building like he owned it—none of that swagger or arrogance. But no one was going to stop him. He looked like a Boy Scout who got a law degree in-between volunteering at the orphaned puppy shelter and helping little old ladies cross the street. But Charlie also saw that look in his eyes, the calculations, the assessment, the darting glances taking in all the details, underneath the unassuming veneer. The ultimate con man.

And here Charlie always thought he was a pro because if he smiled nice enough, no one noticed what his hands were doing. It worked, sure. But Meyer was next level.

If there was one thing Charlie learned in this business, it was to move when you saw an opening. And this was a chance he wasn’t about to let slip away.

“I still think you oughta put that table on the far wall—” Eddie Bauer Catalog was saying to ADHD Beanpole.

“Why, in case Batman repels in and steals our shit?”

“No, it just doesn’t feel right. Y’know, the feng shui.”

“Jesus, Frank, we’re only gonna be here until the end of the World Series—whoa, who’s the homeless guy?” Beanpole said as he noticed them approaching.

“I been on a bus all day!” Charlie snapped back. He wasn’t about to surreptitiously smell his armpit in front of people he didn’t know, but was he that much of a mess? Beanpole and Eddie Bauer were looking at him with uncertainty, wary in a way that had nothing to do with what he looked like.

“This is Charlie,” Meyer said, matter-of-fact. “He’ll be working with us.”

They exchanged another glance.

“Who the fuck is he?” Beanpole looked Charlie up and down; he didn’t seem impressed.

The other cut in for him. “What Benny means to say is, we didn’t think that bringing anyone else in—especially day of—was part of the plan.”

“It wasn’t,” Meyer said, a small smile on his face that didn’t reach his eyes as he clasped his hands behind his back. “But he stalked me to my hotel all the way from New York because a certain set of people—and I’m not naming names—decided to announce my whereabouts in a public place.”

“I didn’t stalk—we worked together before. Once,” Charlie explained in a hurried grumble. Okay, so maybe he did stalk Meyer. A little bit. But that’s how it was in their world.

The Beanpole—Benny—scoffed. Like Charlie wasn’t even there, he turned to Meyer and said, with disdain, “Since when do you work with anyone else?” The besides us didn’t need to be said.

This was a dumb idea. This was stupid. He shouldn’t have come all the way to Boston on a fucking hunch. He’d been beyond lucky even crossing paths with Meyer again, but he didn’t picture Meyer having a little gang like this. Which was stupid, he should have figured. After all, Meyer wasn’t gonna be a big player all on his own. But somehow, he figured he was like Charlie. Maybe a shitty subpar partner here and there, the Toninos of the world, but at the end of the day, all on his own.

“Fine,” he snapped. “Looks like you got it all covered.” He turned to go, but Meyer grabbed his arm.

“He’s good,” Meyer said with such finality that even Charlie believed he meant it. He fixed the other two with a firm stare. “Any other questions?”

He was a head taller than both of them, but it was clear that when Meyer said something, they listened. The one who couldn’t stand still didn’t look happy about it, but he also wasn’t going to argue. The other one was still looking at Charlie kind of funny, and Charlie prepared to square up, when he said—“Oh! You’re that Lucania kid!”

Charlie did a double take. “How the fuck d’you know that?”

He swore he’d never seen this guy in his life, but he just laughed warmly and shook his head. It reminded him of a grandparent with little kids, like he was about to start saying shit like yea high. “Yeah, knew you looked familiar. Got my start runnin’ errands for those old country types in the neighborhood, worked the corner store on East 11th. You were always givin’ your mother agida.”

All Charlie could do was stare at him and then laugh. “Just what everybody in this business wants, huh? Doin’ a job with somebody who knows your mother.”

The other guy waved a hand at him. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell her.” He paused. “For her sake, of course. Not yours. Don’t want to put her through the stress.” He extended his hand to Charlie, with a shake that seemed to belong more in the halls of Congress. “Frank Costello.”

“Oh yeah. Rings a bell.” He couldn’t have told you anything more about him, but it was a name Charlie remembered hearing around the neighborhood. Everybody liked Frank, he knew that. He solved problems. You just weren’t supposed to ask how.

In an undertone, he nudged Meyer in the side with his elbow. “Guess you was right about one thing, huh?” He flashed a grin and pointed his two index fingers together. “About it all connectin’.”

Meyer returned the look with a wry grin. “I think I was right about more than just that.”

Benny misinterpreted the gesture. “Oh eugh. Look, I’m happy you finally got laid, Meyer, but this guy?”

“What’s your problem?” Charlie snapped back with an entirely different finger gesture. Even in his annoyance, however, the word “finally” lodged itself into his brain. From what he remembered—and Charlie did remember—Meyer wasn’t such a bad kisser for a guy who apparently wasn’t getting laid.

“Don’t take it personally, Benny’s goal in life is to get under people’s skin,” Meyer explained in a tone of voice that suggested he was used to explaining away the other’s behavior. Then, with a sharp point at Benny, said emphatically, “And no, we are not—It’s just business.”

Benny snorted. “Always is, with you.”

That was all it took. Before Charlie knew, Meyer was running through their jobs with the precision of a wartime general. Frank moved the merchandise—and no, Charlie, it wasn’t petty theft; it was more what you might term a grey market. They handled sports betting of all types, card games, credit card skimming, and some more complicated jobs that Charlie didn’t fully follow as Meyer spoke with meticulous quickness.

“And if he doesn’t keep me busy enough,” Benny interrupted as Meyer wrapped up the basic overview, “I get bored and jack a car.”

Charlie hadn’t known him long, but he already knew that wasn’t a joke.

“For the record, I hate it when he does that,” Frank said with a sigh.

Benny smirked. “Yeah but Meyer loves a good chop shop more than anyone I know.”

That Charlie didn’t believe, but the small fond smile on Meyer’s face said otherwise. He didn’t argue, instead saying, “Just as long as you’re careful about it.”

“Is there anything you guys don’t do?”

Silence filled the office space. Finally, Frank said with a considering expression, “Not murder. Usually.”

Charlie squinted. He didn’t have a good read on Mr. Eddie-Bauer-for-Senate yet. “Is he kidding?” he asked Meyer.

Meyer didn’t answer, too busy staring out the tinted windows at the glowing lights and milling crowds in baseball caps below. “C’mon. Let’s get out of Frank’s hair before the local hires show up.”

*****

By the time they left the game after the sixth inning—Meyer had work to do before the game actually ended—the sun had long since set and a chill hung in the breeze outside of the bright stadium lights. Benny and Frank split off for their hotel in the neighborhood—Benny protesting all the while that Meyer got the nice hotel for this gig. But neither of the other two paid him much mind, so Charlie figured the kid was just like that. Besides, Meyer had to fit the important businessman role for this. And he did.

“You clean up pretty nice, by the way,” Charlie said, motioning to Meyer’s clothes—slacks and a button down.

“Thank you. You look like shit.” Meyer flipped through his phone while Charlie’s face fell into a scowl.

“Alright, look, I spent six and a half hours on a Megabus, alright? Cut me some slack. You wouldn’t believe the traffic.” He crossed his arms and leaned back against some restaurant, huffing. He could clean up nice, too. Maybe not nice-nice, like a real somebody, the way Meyer looked, but he had his own kind of nice. He wouldn’t be able to do the kinds of cons he did otherwise.

The smirk at the corner of Meyer’s lips was the only sign he noticed Charlie’s pouting. “Well, you should get some rest then. Where are you staying?”

Charlie hesitated. “See, that’s the thing…”

Now Meyer looked up from his phone. They looked at each other—Charlie pulling on that puppy-dog charm, while Meyer raised an eyebrow and sighed. “Come on,” he said. He didn’t sound enthusiastic about it, but at least it was an agreement.

Charlie didn’t steal anything on the short ride back to the hotel, but he did slip his hand through the crook of Meyer’s arm as they walked into the lobby. He flashed a winning smile to the woman at the front desk, who returned a polite wave and reiterated the company line to enjoy his stay. Meyer tapped his keycard inside the elevator as the doors slid closed and hit the button for 12.

“Only 12?” Charlie chided. “You didn’t spring for the penthouse for our anniversary?”

“I’m saving it for the Golden Anniversary,” Meyer replied evenly.

“Well we ain’t gonna make it that long if you don’t spoil me every now and then.” He flashed a winning smile, but Meyer looked away. The tips of his ears were pink. Huh. So he could get flustered.

Charlie grinned to himself about that as Meyer swiped open the door. He dropped his backpack—crammed with his own belongings and those of a half-dozen people who had the misfortune of taking the same train as him—onto the carpet.

“Not a bad room after all,” he said, taking it all in. More of a business suite. The walls were crisp hotel white, the leather desk chair stiff and uninviting, the modern furniture chic but obviously un-lived in. “But I gotta warn you,” Charlie grinned as his eyes fell on the king-size bed against the wall, “I’m a bit of a blanket hog.”

Meyer looked startled, but regained composure quickly. He grabbed a notebook from his luggage and settled into the uncomfortable leather chair. “I don’t plan on sleeping much, so feel free,” he said, non-committal and not looking at him.

Okay. That worked, too.

“I’m gonna shower,” he announced, a little awkward, because standing in the middle of the room and not knowing what to do with himself was getting to him. And because Benny wouldn’t stop calling him a hobo all afternoon, so maybe he did need a wash.

When did he get bad at this? Had he always been bad at this? He made a living off a combination of petty theft and seduction cons—he knew he wasn’t bad at this. Meyer was just different from everyone else. Not that he was trying get anything from Meyer the way he did marks. Sure, he wanted someone to show him the ropes, pull him into something bigger, so he wouldn’t have to operate on his own anymore. But that wasn’t a con. That was just how people worked—everybody always wanted something, otherwise why bother? But what Meyer wanted remained a mystery.

By the time he scrubbed his curls with the little bottle of free hotel shampoo and washed (and rewashed) every part of him with the unscented soap, Meyer still had not moved. Steam billowed out of the bathroom door after him as Charlie emerged from the bathroom, damp, in only a pair of fresh boxer-briefs. He padded barefoot across the carpet, rubbing the towel over his hair and tossing it aside.

As he knelt by his backpack to find a shirt, he noticed Meyer looking at him, then quickly glanced back down at his notebook. Charlie smirked. “Y’know,” he said, a little too loud, just to make Meyer look at him again. “We seem to go back to each other’s hotel rooms a lot,” he said, with slow and easy grin.

“Mm. Twice,” Meyer agreed, maybe sarcastically.

He meant the comment to be flirty, but Charlie couldn’t help glance over his shoulder at the door. “Benny’s not gonna bust in and hold a gun to my head, is he?”

Meyer laughed. “Oh, he might. That’s not the plan or anything, you just never know.”

“Great. That makes me feel better.”

He pulled a shirt from his bag, but slung it over his shoulder instead of putting it on. He sauntered over to Meyer, perching on the arm of the chair. “Y’know, if you’re gonna game the whole World Series, you might wanna get some sleep.”

“Do you mind not dripping on me while I’m working?” Meyer asked with a smirk, not looking up.

Charlie swung his shirt into Meyer’s face, and they both laughed.

Meyer worked all through the evening while Charlie sat up in bed, scrolling his phone and watching the TV with the sound turned low—even though Meyer insisted it wouldn’t distract him, after his years of practice tuning Benny out. He ordered room service for dinner and insisted Meyer eat something, even though he said he wasn’t hungry. As the hubbub of honking cars from the street below finally faded into a sleepy 2 AM haze, Charlie switched off the TV.

“Will the light bother you?” Meyer asked, speaking for the first time in hours as Charlie slipped into bed and pulled the comforter up around himself.

“Nah. Got used to sharin’ a room, growin’ up,” he said back, barely stifling a yawn. The whole bus trip up to Boston had really taken it out of him.

It didn’t take long until the room slipped away, sleep starting to pull him under. But even through the haze settling around his mind, he heard the click of the light and the tread of careful feet. He dipped back into a doze to the ambient sounds of the water running in the bathroom.

The bed creaked beside him as Meyer carefully arranged himself on the other side, a wide gap between them. Charlie flipped over to face him. He blinked his heavy eyes in the darkness. “Does this mean you trust me?” he asked, voice groggy already, as they lay on opposite sides of the king-size bed.

There was a long pause. He could feel Meyer’s slow and steady breathing through the mattress in the darkness. “No,” he answered quietly. “I don’t even trust Frank and Benny.”

[leviathanlazarus]

Dig A Little Deeper

Thank you for the tag, @beautifulcinephile 🍀

Do you prefer writing with a black pen or a blue pen? Black, always. 

Would you prefer to live in the country or in the city? Probably the happy medium of the suburbs? If I really had to choose, I’d go with the county, especially if I knew I’d still only have a short drive into the city. It would take a lot of adjusting for me to move so far out into the country that the city is like, more than 15 minutes away, but I do love fresh air and nature more than anything else and the quiet beauty of the country always appeals to me.

If you could learn a new skill, what would it be? I would really like to become a better cook. 

Do you drink your tea/coffee with sugar? I will drink coffee any way you give it to me, though I do usually prefer cream and sugar in it (especially if it’s iced) and I drink tea as is. Unless I’m sick, then I’ll throw some honey in there. Also Earl grey tea always needs milk.

What was your favorite book as a child? The Runaway Bunny when I was really little. I also really, really loved I Spy books and still have all of mine.

Do you prefer baths or showers? Literally just sitting in a tub full of dirty water doing absolutely nothing is not for me. Showers all the way.

If you could be a mythical creature, which one would you be? I’d love to be something brilliant and beautiful like a vampire or some woodland nymph but I think I was meant to be a harpy

Paper or electronic books? Paper! 

What is your favorite item of clothing? My black, red and orange striped sweater; my baby blue loose-knit sweater; my Radiohead North American 2018 tour shirt; my Chicago hoodie; my Def Leppard t-shirt; my GVF t-shirt; honestly all the t-shirts 

Do you like your name? Would you like to change it? My name is great. I’m the only Zara.

Who is a mentor to you? Nick Cave

Would you like to be famous? If so, what for? Not really, though gaining some sort of recognition for my writing has always been a goal of sorts. I feel like most writers never really get “famous” anyway, you’re really only famous within a particular realm of literature. But like, the thought of actually putting together and publishing a collection of poetry and having people buy it would be astounding. 

Are you a restless sleeper? Always. It’s a lot worse these days. I’ve managed to sleep through one night over the past like, three months. Trying to fall asleep is struggle, staying asleep is an even bigger struggle. This is why I don’t like going to bed nor do I like sleep in general lol it’s hard to enjoy something that’s entirely unenjoyable! 

Do you consider yourself to be a romantic person? I feel I am far more of a “romantic” person in the sense of the artistic and intellectual movement more so than the contemporary, common definition. But I’ll get back to you if I ever get a real opportunity to try.

Which element best represents you? Earth

Who do you want to be closer to? Myself, but in a healthier way.

Do you miss someone at the moment? Not really

Tell us about an early childhood memory. I remember getting one of those spinning, flailing sprinklers that was just like a big flower one summer when I was in preschool. I feel like only 90s kids would know what I’m talking about. But it was pink and it was so awesome and the memory of its tactile feeling is so vivid.

What is the strangest thing you have eaten? I don’t know if I’ve ever eaten anything all that strange? Fried alligator, which is amazing. I tried this canned pork by-product once, similar to Spam but not, that was okay. Eel. I’d like to try more “strange” things.

What are you most thankful for? All my basic needs being met; my friends; my health; my abilities; nature.

Do you like spicy food? I fucking love spicy food and crave it constantly. I have a bottle of Frank’s Red Hot on my desk right now. Need that heat and need that spice!

Have you ever met someone famous? I met Caesar Milan LOL

Do you keep a diary or journal? No. I really do advocate for a lot of people to give it a shot but journaling never did anything for me.

Do you prefer to use pen or pencil? Pen for sure

What is your star sign? Taurus sun

Do you like your cereal crunchy or soggy? A solid in-between. I love getting that crunchy top later but then a couple spoonfuls down, you get it a little soggier but still relatively crisp. I love cereal in all forms.

What would you want your legacy to be? My trailblazing fan fiction LOL really, any of my writing, as long as I’m proud of it. And being known for always being passionately true to myself and my values.

Do you like reading? What was the last book you read? I do like reading. I used to love reading but higher education put a damper on it for me. I’ve been trying to read more and have successfully read a number of books over the past few months--most recently, I reread Weetzie Bat, which is one of my favorites. 

How do you show someone you love them? Quality time. You wanna hang out? I’m down, I don’t care what we do. Buying food sometimes, too. 

Do you like ice in your drinks? I never really use it myself apart from when I’m making myself a cocktail of some kind.

What are you afraid of? Everything, truly. 

What is your favorite scent? Anything pine-heavy, dark and/or woodsy; jasmine; basil.

Do you address older people by their name or surname? Their first name

If money was not a factor, how would you live your life? I would not work, for starters. And I would travel. Eat amazing food, always. Get another degree. Be free.

Do you prefer swimming in pools or the ocean? The last time I was in either was a decade ago and, being a fragile 26 year old currently, I’m gonna go with pool. Pools don’t have threats living within them. The ocean is beautiful and I miss it but terrifying to me

What would you do if you found $50 in the ground? Did I see someone drop it? No? Then I’m keeping it. 

Have you ever seen a shooting star? Did you make a wish? Yes, I’ve seen a few and yes, I did.

What is one thing you would want to teach your children? Study hard, but also have fun.

If you had to have a tattoo, what would it be and where would you get it? I’m pretty set with my tattoos right now lol

What can you hear now? The a/c and my coworker rifling through a plastic bag in the break room 

Where do you feel the safest? In the sun, surrounded by trees and flowers. Also just home, whether it be my literal home or my city.

What is one thing you want to overcome/conquer? My crippling...unprecedented...exhausting anxiety and panic

If you could travel back to any era, what would it be? The 70s could be fun. Why not?

What is your most used emoji? Well, I’m on desktop now, but I think the pine tree or the pink heart 

Describe yourself using one word. I’m using two because no synonym for the phrase really has the same effect: on edge.

What do you regret the most? I just keep telling myself “no regrets” no matter what. 

Last movie you saw? I rewatched Moonlight.

Last TV show you watched? Community

Invent a word and its meaning. I got nothing.

I tag @mountainofthesunn @oblvions @imacrowcawcaw @ashesandacidrain @cantbehandled-ever @shes-outta-sight @supersonic-darling @juvinadelgreko if y’all want ~~

[lilyvandersteen]

Out of the Blue: Chapter 2

Cover art: @redheadgleek​

Beta extraordinaire: @hkvoyage​

Links: AO3, FF.net

Author’s Note:

The Twitter feed mentioned in this chapter circulated around Tumblr a while back, and I just KNEW I had to turn it into a fic one day :D

This is the blog post in question: https://lilyvandersteen.tumblr.com/post/190456831744/thesorrowoflizards-awful-brew

Chapter 2: A Good Idea

“This was a lucky idea of mine, indeed!” said Mrs. Bennet, more than once, as if the credit of making it rain were all her own. Till the next morning, however, she was not aware of all the felicity of her contrivance.

(An excerpt from Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen)

Kurt sipped from his cocktail and leaned back contently. It was Friday night, he didn’t have any shifts at the diner the following day, and all his favorite girls were here for a night out, even Mercedes and Brittany. Life was good.

It was fun catching up with everyone. He told them all about the photo shoots he’d helped his boss Isabelle with at Vogue, and the articles he’d written for the website. Quinn was interning with a district attorney at the moment, and talked about the court cases she’d attended so far. Tina had been helping out a vet treating farm animals exclusively, and told stories about cows calving and a horse that had to be put down after breaking its leg. Mercedes’ tour was a big success, and she was thinking of taking it overseas. Brittany, who was one of the back-up dancers at Mercedes’ concerts, was all for that plan, and summed up all the cities she wanted to visit.

Rachel, for once, wasn’t monopolizing the conversation, seeing as she was sad about another short relationship that hadn’t worked out. And Santana was more mellow than usual, seeing as she had Brittany with her.

The two of them were cuddling and whispering softly and smiling, and it sent a pang of jealousy through Kurt. He didn’t envy Santana the long-distance relationship. He’d witnessed first-hand how hard it was for her sometimes. But he did long for that bond that Santana and Brittany had. He too wanted someone who’d understand him with half a word, who’d move mountains just to be with him and who’d look at him as though he were the most precious jewel on earth.

All he’d ever had in the way of relationships was an admirer called Chandler when he was still in Ohio. Kurt had liked the compliments Chandler had showered him with, and had liked getting Chandler’s undivided attention. It was flattering, and it did wonders for his self-esteem. See? Someone thought he was worth talking to! Someone appreciated his fashion sense!

That was why he’d agreed to go on a date with Chandler, and after that a second one. They’d gone to the cinema together, and then shopping at the mall another time. And Kurt was pretty sure that Chandler expected more to come of it, looking at Kurt with hope in his eyes at the end of each date. But Kurt couldn’t bring himself to kiss Chandler. Not when he didn’t feel anything for him other than gratitude and kinship.

So their relationship petered out before it could even begin, and Kurt couldn’t say he regretted it. But he’d very much hoped that his dating prospects would improve upon moving to New York City, and that hadn’t been the case.

Yes, the leader of the Adam’s Apples show choir had recruited him with a serenade, but he’d made no move beyond that, and Kurt hadn’t dared ask him out.

And when he’d started his Madonna cover band, he’d developed a crush on Elliott – could you blame him? – and admitted to it one night after a gig, half-drunk and giggly, only to be told that he was about five years too late to make his move. That was how long Elliott had been dating his boyfriend, and when he brought Mark along to rehearsal the next time, they proved to be ridiculously happy and in love. So no luck there, either.

It wasn’t his looks, he knew that much. In his stage combat lessons, he could see other students check out his body, which had filled out nicely. But none of them ever came on to him, and anyway, Kurt wasn’t sure he’d be interested in just a hook-up.

Still, it wasn’t fun to be the only one of his friends who’d never even been kissed. Other than by a girl or a bully, but that didn’t count. It didn’t, okay?

When Kurt tuned back into the conversation, he heard that they were talking about a tweet Tina had found on her Twitter feed that encouraged people getting married to send an invitation to all billionaires they could find the address of. If you got lucky, those billionaires’ secretaries would think you were a friend or relative of their boss and would send you a gift.

“Wouldn’t it be great if one of us got married so we could get some decent stuff for the loft?” Santana asked. "We barely have anything, and we could ask for all of it! A blender. A coffee machine. A panini maker. And, you know, bedding. Sleeping on the sofa would feel a lot better if I had a decent pillow and comforter. And bath towels. Big and thick ones."

“Oh yes,” Kurt chimed in. “A wok, a food processor, a real Le Creuset pan. Good knives. Matching sets of plates and cutlery. It doesn’t have to be fancy, but just more. Now we have to wash up after every meal because we only have six of everything.”

“A vacuum cleaner that actually works,” Rachel sighed. “It was nice of Carole to give us her old one, but let’s face it, its best days are over. Oh, and what about a quality throw blanket to hang over the sofa, to hide the stains?”

Kurt nodded. “I also want a full-length mirror for the bathroom, and a nicer hamper for the dirty laundry. The kind that doubles as a bench.”

Rachel put her chin in her hands and stared dreamily into space. “Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

“It would,” Santana and Kurt agreed.

“Too bad none of us are getting married anytime soon,” Kurt mused.

“Well, I’m not seeing anyone, and neither are you,” Rachel said, “so technically, we could get fake hitched, but I don’t think anyone would buy you and I getting married. The wedding would be fabulous, of course, but obviously fake.”

Kurt suppressed a shudder, and Santana threw her head back and laughed.

Rachel pressed on, “But Santana could totally get married. What about it, Santana? At least you and Brittany are dating.”

The proposition shut Santana up at once. She stared at Rachel with her mouth wide open.

“I’d like to be married to you,” Brittany piped up, smiling softly and kissing Santana on the nose. “And I’m sure Kurt would help us plan the wedding, wouldn’t you, Kurt?”

Kurt grinned at her. “You know it!”

“And I know just what the invitation should look like!”

Brittany took a piece of crayon from behind her ear and started sketching a tree with hearts instead of leaves.

“That’s beautiful, honey,” Santana murmured, and Brittany beamed at her. “So we’re doing this?”

Santana nodded, and claimed Brittany’s lips for a lingering kiss.

“Okay, okay, that’s as much foreplay as I can stomach,” Kurt said. “Let’s get back to the loft. You can have my bed tonight if you promise not to be loud and not to get the bed linens dirty. Use a towel.”

Brittany kissed Kurt on the cheek. “Thank you, Kurtie!”

When they reached the loft, though, Brittany made no move to join Santana in Kurt’s bedroom. Instead, she badgered Kurt into opening Photoshop on his laptop so she could recreate the love tree in digital format. She added a recent picture of her and Santana, and looked up examples of wedding invitations on the internet to see what information should be on the card.

Before Kurt knew it, Brittany had commandeered all of his expensive ivory drawing paper to print the invitations on, and she set Rachel to work Googling names and addresses of billionaires.

Soon, Kurt was calligraphing these addresses onto hot pink and deep purple envelopes from Rachel’s stationary set, while Brittany was setting up an online wedding registry.

When that was done, she used up all of Rachel’s stamps to frank the invitations, and then ran out to go post them.

Rachel and Santana were already fast asleep by the time Brittany came back, and Kurt had almost drifted off when he heard a cheery, “There, all done!”

He chuckled at Brittany’s enthusiasm, closed his eyes and was out like a light.

The next day, they all woke up with hangovers and no recollection of their wacky wedding scheme nor the fake invitations Brittany had sent.

On Monday evening, though, Santana blanched and gasped when she checked her e-mails during dinner. “Dios mio!”

“What is it?” asked Rachel, spearing three green beans onto her fork.

“Brittany! She actually sent out wedding invites! And somebody has accepted the invitation. Who goes to a wedding of people they don’t know at all? And what on earth are we gonna do?”

“Wait, what? Who is this person?”

Rachel looked over Santana’s shoulder at the screen. “Cooper Anderson… Oh yeah, that’s the guy from those FreeCreditRating.com commercials, you remember? We all had that jingle as our ringtone for a while.”

“You mean YOU did,” Santana muttered, rolling his eyes.

Kurt wisely didn’t mention he’d had that ringtone, too.

Oh, he remembered the FreeCreditRating guy only too well. He even had a signed poster of him somewhere, that dated back to a talent show at the Westerville mall. Cooper Anderson had been one of the judges of the show, and Kurt had taken part just to get to see him in the flesh. Kurt had been the runner-up of the competition, after Rachel, and had gotten to shake Mr. Anderson’s hand and stammer about how much he admired him. And Mr. Anderson had been so gracious about it all, giving Kurt a 1,000 Watt smile and asking him if he’d like an autograph. So Kurt had whipped out his latest edition of Vogue and had Mr. Anderson sign a perfume ad he starred in.

Kurt smiled at the recollection, and nodded along when Rachel continued to gush about Mr. Anderson.

“He’s ever so handsome. And ever so rich. He’s a Westerville Anderson, so he comes from old money, and then he started this advertising company that everyone uses nowadays, so now he’s a billionaire ten times over.”

“Nice!” said Santana. “So whatever he buys us as a present, it’ll be worth it. But how are we going to pull this off in… What?! Less than a week! Britt put this Saturday as the wedding date!”

“WHAT?!!” Kurt and Rachel shrieked in unison.

Santana waved at the screen. “See for yourself. This Saturday, at 6.30 p.m., in our loft.”

Kurt shook his head in disbelief. “Five days! Neither of you have wedding dresses, we don’t have an officiant, we don’t have a wedding cake nor any other party food, we don’t have any flowers or decorations fit for a wedding. This is a disaster!”

“But you CAN do it, right?”

Santana’s hand clamped around Kurt’s arm like a vice, and she looked up at him beseechingly. “Please help us out? You organized Burt and Carole’s wedding in a week too, right?”

“Two weeks,” Kurt corrected absent-mindedly, his brain already working overtime. “I suppose I could manage it. But you’d owe me. Big time. I want at least half of the wedding present haul.”

“Done.”

Rachel clapped her hands and cheered. “Can we look at what people have bought you already?”

Santana clicked through to the wedding registry, and her face went slack with horror.

“What?” Kurt asked.

“Britt only put cat stuff on the list,” Santana groaned as she scrolled through the list. “Nothing but cat stuff.”

“She did what?” Rachel screeched.

Kurt didn’t say a word. He took over the mouse and checked what had been bought already. So far, Cooper Anderson was the only one who had chosen something. He had put his name down for a pet pavilion that was worth a cool 25 grand. 25 grand! For something so ridiculous! You could fit out an entire kitchen with that amount of money! What a waste!!

“Ugh, as much as I love Britt, I kind of hate her right now,” he murmured, and he heard Santana and Rachel hum in assent.

Kurt clicked on “Edit your wedding registry” and started to delete all of Brittany’s choices, one by one, muttering curses under his breath when he arrived at the costly pet pavilion that he couldn’t delete because it had already been bought.

“Now, before anyone else buys something we don’t want or need, let’s add all the stuff that we DO want,” he said, and between the three of them, they compiled a decent list.

When he’d clicked on “Save changes”, Kurt let out a deep breath. “Well, looks like I’ve got some wedding planning to do. This had better be worth it, San!”

Santana was still too shaken up to snark back. She just looked at Kurt like a deer caught in the headlights. “Can we do this?”

Kurt nodded. “We can do this. Calling Isabelle straight away!”

Isabelle, when she heard the story, laughed for five minutes straight, but then promised all the help she could offer. “Bring the brides along tomorrow, I’ll find them dresses and shoes, no problem. And you can use whatever decorations we have lying around here. What else do you need?”

“Rings for the brides. Dresses for two bridesmaids, I’ll bring them too. A three-piece suit for both me and the officiant,” Kurt started listing. “The others are on their own and will have to dig up whatever formal wear they’ve got lying around. Then, what else, let me think… Chairs for the ceremony. The weather will be nice on Saturday, thankfully, so we’ll have the ceremony and the reception on the roof of our building. There’s a railing all around, so it’s safe, and I’ve already made a cosy corner there that we sit in when the loft gets too hot. Very sturdy and well-made trelliswork. I will just have to decorate it.”

Isabelle hummed. “White roses. We’ve got tons of fake ones from the May issue, remember? You’re welcome to them, but make sure we get them back afterwards.”

“Will do,” Kurt promised. “The guests will have to go through our loft to get to the roof, though. You can only get there using the fire escape. So we will need a cover for our sofa. It’s in a terrible state. Stains all over. Ugh, we’ll have to start by cleaning the whole loft top to bottom. Girls, you WILL help!!”

Rachel and Santana murmured their agreement, and Santana went to look for cleaning supplies, while Rachel started to tackle the piled-up dishes in the sink.

“Oh, and could I borrow a few of those high tables people can stand around to eat finger food? We’ve got no room for a sit-down dinner.”

“Reception tables,” Isabelle said. “Yep, we have about twenty of them, and you’re not going to need that many, are you?”

“Nope. Five or six will do. Plus decent tablecloths for those tables, so that they don’t look cheap. I’d also like twinkle lights. As many as you can spare. And some sheer fabric or tulle I can wrap them in before I drape them all over the terrace.”

“Right, I’ll find you some,” Isabelle promised. “Do you need vases for flowers?”

Kurt hummed, thinking hard. “Nope, I’ll repurpose some empty wine bottles. Dipped in silver glitter, they’ll look fab. I’ll hang some on the railing and I’ll put the others on the reception tables. And some in the loft as well. And maybe some twinkle lights there, too. If you have some other decoration ideas, please let me know. Oh, and wedding favors! What do I do for wedding favors? For my dad and stepmom, I put a wheelbarrow with seed packets in the garden, with a sign that said, ‘Take one and watch love grow’. But that only works for a garden wedding.”

Isabelle hummed. “Let me think about it and get back to you. What are you going to do about the food?”

“Make it myself. Thank heavens we have a big fridge and freezer. We’re going to need every inch of space.”

Isabelle tutted. “Don’t overdo it, Kurt. You don’t want to fall asleep halfway through the wedding because you’ve been working day and night to make this perfect.”

“I’ll make everyone help.”

The steel in Kurt’s voice made Rachel and Santana look up from their work in alarm, but they didn’t protest. They knew all too well it was futile.

The rest of the week passed in a frenzy of cleaning, cooking, baking, decorating as well as inviting and briefing their other friends.

Elliott agreed to act as the officiant for the wedding, Artie offered his services as a DJ and Tina volunteered to be the photographer. Mercedes and Artie rehearsed the song for the first dance while the brides worked on the dance itself. Sam made himself invaluable running errands and assisting Kurt from dusk till dawn, and didn’t give a peep in protest when Kurt sat him down for a haircut.

By Saturday afternoon, the loft and the terrace both looked splendid. The twinkle lights wrapped in tulle gave the loft ceiling and the terrace a dreamy but festive air, and the silver bottles holding colorful flowers added to the splendor without making it tacky.

Kurt was hard at work decorating the top tier of the wedding cake while Elliott rehearsed the ceremony with San and Britt, Rachel prompting them whenever they faltered.

When the cake was safely stowed away in the fridge, Kurt checked the wedding registry one last time. It seemed like all his work had served some purpose after all. Their scheme had worked out pretty well. Brittany and Santana had received a gift from no less than eighteen billionaires, some of it pricey stuff. The Louis XV pet pavilion was a sad waste of money, of course, but Kurt was pleased with the other gifts, and was mentally already picking his favorites.

Humming happily, he helped zip up dresses and arrange the brides’ and bridesmaids’ hair, and then went to his bedroom to put his suit on and check on his coif.

When he headed back to the living room, he noticed that all their friends had arrived, and grimaced at all the noise they produced. He hadn’t slept properly in days, and he felt a headache coming on, throbbing at his temples.

Artie was testing the music installation, and soon all of the former Glee clubbers were singing and laughing and dancing. Kurt slunk away to the kitchen and put his head against the cool metal of the fridge to soothe the pain.

He’d almost dozed off when a loud voice rang through the loft. Mr. Anderson! He’d arrived!

[girlbossfrankshepard]

Hey guess what! I just took upon myself the fun challenge of transcribing this early version of Rich And Happy from Broadway previews, and I managed to get most of it pretty good! If anyone could help me fill in the blanks, I would much appreciate it, because uh. It’s A Lot

[TERRY] So we bought this little condominium...

[KATE] So we found this little Chinese gardener...

[JEROME] It's a clear case of studio politics...

[PHOTOGRAPHER] We were stuck on the freeway till half past six...

[TERRY] So we bought this little condominium...

[FOUR GUESTS] Great… Hmm... Yeah...

[ALL] Party!

[FRANK] Life is swinging Skies are blue and bells are ringing Every day I wake up singing "Look at me, I'm rich and happy!"

Days are sunny Working hard for lots of money Filled with people smart and funny Filled with people rich and happy!

Who says, "Lonely at the top"? I say, "Let it never stop!" It's my time coming through All my dreams coming true: Gorgeous house, gorgeous wife Who wants any more from life?

Skies are beaming Future bright and prospects gleaming Best of all, I don't stop dreaming Just because I'm rich And happy And- oh, yes! Famous, too!

[KATE, speaking] Oh Frank! I am paralyzed with joy tonight! And I cannot tell a lie, so, you look very young and very handsome!

[FRANK] Ugh, I needed to hear that today! Only this morning I was asked to come back and speak at my old high school’s commencement next year! I will have been out 25 years.

[KATE] Oh, be still my heart! You going to go?

[FRANK] Ha, who knows what I’ll be doing a year from now? If my life is falling apart and I need some good press, I’ll go.

[KATE] Ah, come, come, my dear! This is your year!

[RU singing Good Thing Going in.. French I think? Also a bit of chatter I can’t make out]

[TED, singing] Which one is that one?

[RU] That one’s the rich one, Married to which one?

[TED] I think it’s that one. (scatting??)

[ALL] Party!

[MARY, speaking] Come on, Frank, get me a double vodka. Straight up. And a floor plan (?).

[RU laughs, MARY mocks his laughing]

[MARY] Could you have been so upset? After all, it’s only lies. And if I have to keep playing this one more depressing day… Who wrote that song?

[RU] The host.

[MARY] What? It’s been 20 years since he wrote it, inspire (?) anything else. What’s your name?

[RU] Ru, like the poet.

[MARY] My name’s Mary, like “good old Mary”. Ru, if you were somewhere else in the world, where would you be?

[RU] (something about living on a farm?) It’s got everything.

[MARY] So have you.

[RU] Excuse me?

[MARY] I was being a brat. I’m a 42 year old brat. Is this empty cup yours?

[RU] Well, it was.

[MARY] Can I just borrow it so everybody doesn’t know all my business? I want to have one simple double, and that’s all. Oh God, now you’re gonna think I’m a drunk, right? Well, I’m not. I happen to be a captain. (??) That guy over there is just crazy about me, but he hates it when I drink. Hehehe…

[ALEX, singing] Perfect house, perfect wife Yes, my dear And yet the hostess isn’t here I wonder where could she appear

[Sounds of frustrated people, “are you kidding?”]

[TERRY] So we bought this little condominium…

[Crowd chatter]

[TERRY] So we bought this little string of laundromats...

[ALL?] Great! Smog Points

{SOME GUY 1] These are the movers These are the shapers These are the people That kill the papers

[SOME GUY 2] Looking good!

[ALL] We are the friends of Frank!

[SOME GUY 2] Everybody’s looking good!

[ALL] We all have Frank to thank!

[MARY] These are the movers These are the shapers These are the people That give you vapors

[GUEST, speaking] Ah, there are oceans and champagne! This is all just set for the occasion! I believe we’re going to see some fabulously important movie premiere!

[RICH BACKER] And just wait until you see our darling child in it! Gird your loins!

[MEG] Mother!

[RICH BACKER, singing] Twenty years ago, Who’d have thunk? Who’d have thunk we’d be standing here? Hours of sobbing and overrun (?) You (?) with Frank

[GUEST] Looking good

[RICH BACKER] Now you represent Frank! And I’m his personal bank!

[“Everybody’s looking good” and “These are the movers” overlapping]

[ALL] Life is swinging Skies are blue and bells are ringing Every day I wake up singing "Look at me, I'm rich and happy!"

[MEG] Gosh, he’s attractive Gosh, he’s so smart Gosh, it’s exciting being here Gosh, it’s my start! This is my first premiere I should be acting looser Gosh, this is my first affair With a first-rate producer

[Some guy fucking scatting again]

[ALEX, speaking] Mary! Come! That last review you wrote, I do not have the words! I read it over and over!

[MARY] Didn’t you get it the first time?

[ALEX] I do wish you wrote fiction instead of reviewing movies. I’d love you to write about our house last week when we thought we’d lost our little dog. All of us searching the house, the yard, everywhere, and you know what? Ha! I had forgotten I’d put it in the car!

[MARY] How can I get the rights? Excuse me, I promised that shy guy over there by the piano I’d (?)

[ALEX] See you later!

[MARY] I hope so!

[ALL] Days are stunning (?) stars are slumming

[TED] (?) The right one?

[RU] That’s their employer

[TED] Who’s the uptight one?

[RU] That one’s his lawyer And that one’s his agent And that one’s his banker (?)

[TED] And then there’s his “yes man”

[RU] Now where is his yes man? ...Oh yes.

[TED, speaking] You making money?

[RU] Sure. (I think I may have gotten these two mixed up a few times)

[GUEST] Shut up.

[ALL] Party!

[Frank and Jerome are playing Backgammon]

[JEROME] That’s two-thousand, I’ll take a check!

(?)

[FRANK] Did I say on the invitation “cocktail party” or “drinks before my premiere”?

[MEG?] Frank-

[FRANK] Meg, be a good girl, I’m trying to write a bad check.

[JEROME] After producing this movie, he now joins an income bracket that’s limited to oil barons and drug producers.

[FRANK] (Seemingly sullen) Yeah, and isn’t it wonderful? Now I have everything I have ever wanted. I have nothing more to wish for. My every want, my every dream has finally come true.

[KATE?] I guess that’s (?), Frank

[FRANK] God, Jerome. Don’t you wish you could put on your 18 year old glasses and see life the way Meg does?

[KATE?, singing] Twenty years ago, He parked cars

[A bunch of people overlapping here, “he was out of a job”]

[GUESTS] Now just look at us superstars Worth the national bank (I make cars) Each as big as his (?) (I own cars) Friends of president (?)

[GUEST] I’m still out of it!

[Too many people]

[GUESTS] Twenty years ago, Who’d have thought We’d be setting the trends? Who’d have guessed we’d be friends? Who can tell where it ends?

Making it (Get in line) Everybody’s making it (Get in line) Everybody’s got that hard-earned hungry look in their eyes

[TERRY, speaking] I think the last of the old contract-slayers here is falling apart! You got something on your nose, Jerome. (playfully) Your finger! Ahahaha!

[FRANK] Terry, you know Meg who is starring in my picture.

[TERRY] (to MEG) Not too gorgeous, huh? Oh, and don’t feel bad you don’t have bosoms like mine. It’s gonna take growing to have bosoms like these, (?) put silicone in their training bra! Meg, while you can, cause they don’t last long after (?) Oh well, tut tut. I used to have class like that. See you at the movies! Which is more than you can say for me! (gasp) Is that Mary?

[MARY] No. You see, Ru, I can’t marry you. No, I can’t, there’d be too many changes in my life. So don’t ask me. (approached by ALEX) What?

[ALEX, singing] Perfect house, perfect wife Yes, my dear And yet, well, Gussie’s not here I need the time

[Some overlapping voices, then a really uncomfortable long silence]

[TERRY?] So we bought this little piece of property…

[ALL] Days go zipping Even when they’re less than gripping Mostly though it’s like you’re tripping High on being rich And happy

Most fulfilling Even when you don’t get billing Every day you wake up willing Happy to be rich And happy (lol isn’t that kind of redundant)

Who says all our dreams get burned? Every bit of this was earned It's our time coming through All our dreams coming true All our days full of beans This must be what happy means!

Skies are beaming Future bright and prospects gleaming! Best of all, we don't stop dreaming Just because we're rich— And happy

[GUEST] And maybe-

[Bit of chatter]

[ALL] Famous too!

[formeandmyfics]

GOODNIGHT BOGIE

JUGENEA FAN FICTION

1957

Dawn was approaching in Los Angeles on a chilly January morning. The sky was getting bright, yet the sun was still a shadow. Judy walked out of her youngest daughter's bedroom typing her robe around her body, her face sleepy and hair tousled. She had feel asleep in there after the four-year-old woke up from a nightmare. As she walked from the kids wing, along the banister overlooking the foyer, movement caught her eye from the crescent window above the front door. It looked like June Allyson walking up the path. At this hour - what on earth? Judy hurried down the stairs in concern for the doorbell waking the house. Before June could even knock, Judy opened the door, "Hi Honey, what are you..." Judy trailed off when she saw the grief-stricken expression on her friends face and she felt her heart drop. She knew. "No." June nodded and took Judy's hand, "We just got the news. He's gone." June's lip quivered and she shrugged sad. Judy placed her hand over her mouth, whimpering as her eyes teared up. The two embraced in a comforting hug. "Can ya believe it?" June whispered. Their good friend, and next door neighbor, Humphrey Bogart, had been battling Esophageal cancer. The previous day he had gone into a coma. But everyone had been hopeful. He was only 57. Suddenly Judy pulled away thinking of her best friend Laurel Bacall, Bogart's wife, "Oh my God, Betty. I've got to go to her." "No. Frank is with her at the hospital. He said she doesn't want any of us going there. It'll be a press frenzy if we do." "How is Frank?" "He's in shock, I think. He could barely talk." "This is going to devastate my husband." "I know it. They were like the three musketeers." "Yeah. Thank you for coming over to tell me." "I thought it'd be better in person." "Of course." "We're going to try to have a meet up this afternoon once we get more information from Lauren." "Yes, please keep us updated." June kissed Judy's cheek and started back down the path. When Judy shut the door behind her, she leaned her back up against it and sighed closing her eyes. "What's happened?" Her eyes opened and she saw Gene standing at the top of the stairs looking worried. She opened her mouth to speak but Gene quickly interrupted her. Loudly and pointing at her sternly, he shouted, "No!" Judy flinched, a bit startled. She watched Gene look at her with an angry expression before he disappeared back towards their bedroom. She waited a few minutes trying to compose herself before she head up the stairs.

When Judy got to their bedroom, she found her husband sitting on the edge of the bed tying up his sneakers. "Where are you going?" "For a job. I figured I'd do it now so I can help you with the kids when they wake up since it's Mary's day off." Judy carefully got on the bed behind him, kneeling, "I thought maybe I'd call Kay, see if she could watch them for a bit." "No, don't," he warned, his voice cracking. Judy's eyes welled up, "Why not?" Her voice whimpered as she tried not to break down. "I need the distraction." Gene finished his shoes and sat up, his palms on his knees, staring straight ahead. She couldn't see his face, but she knew he was fighting back emotions. "Gene, you can go on your jog, but I need to know you understand what's happened before you go." "I'm fine," he said, but when he felt he hug him from behind, he let out a hard sob and hung his head. Together they cried for their friend. "We talked about it last night when he went into a coma, but I didn't think the sun of a bitch would let go," he  choked out. "He was a fighter," she mumbled, not sure if she was crying for her friend or her husband. "He sure as hell was." "Those poor children..." Gene clenched his jaw, his entire body stiffened, as he yelled very angrily, "FUCK!" Just then they heard a small voice from the doorway, "Mama." Judy nudged Gene as if warning him and without another word, he got up an walked out of the room passing the little girl. Judy sniffled, "What is it, darling?" "Why you crying?" Judy knew she could fib and say she's not crying, or say it's allergies, or say it's happy tears, but one thing she promised herself was to always be open and honest with her children, in the most tender and loving way. It was something her own mother had neglected to do with her. When Ethel was truthful, her version of honesty was brash and  the ol' 'suck it up' method. "Come here, baby." When the little girl walked on over, she lifted her up onto the bed. "Daddy said a bad word." "Yes, he did. But we know not to say that word, right?" "Ah huh." "Good. Listen to Mama. You know you best friend Leslie's daddy..." "Uncle Bogie?" "Yes, well, you know darling, he got very sick." "Like a cold?" "A lot more than a cold. But you know when you get sick and Mama and Daddy give you medicine and soup and bunches of love and after a few days you feel better?" "Yes." "Well, Uncle Bogie was so sick the medicine and all of our love didn't help him so he decided to be an angel." "Angel? Like the angels during Christmas? With wings?" "Yes. He' up in the sky watching over all of us now." "I can't go on his boat no more?" the child asked tilting her head curious. "I don't know. Maybe. But he won't be there. I mean, he will, but he'll be invisible." "Oh. Is that why you cry? 'Cause you can't see him no more?" "Yes, because Mama is going to miss him, but we know he's here. We just cannot see him." "Does Auntie Betty know and Leslie and Stephen? They know he an angel?" "Yes, they do. But they will still be sad. So, don't feel bad if you see them sad, okay?" "Okay, Mama. He must be having fun flying around." Judy laughed, "I'm sure he is. Come on, let's get you dressed for breakfast."

Gene was jogging down the street, breathing heavy from anger and grief with each step. A car passed him but did a quick U-turn and pulled up beside him. When Gene noticed it was Dick Powell, he came to a halt and leaned into the window, resting on the door. "You heard?" "Yeah." "How you doin'?" "Probably gonna have a fifth of scotch in my cereal." "I hear ya. Listen, Frank called June again. He's going to bring Betty back in a few hours. We're making calls to meet up at the Bogart's place when she gets back." "Do you think that's wise? Might be too overwhelming for her?" "That's what I said but he said it was her idea. She probably doesn't want to be alone in the house right away." "What about the kids?" "He said they're staying at their Aunt's house to be around their cousins." "That's a good idea. I'll tell Judy then." "Okay. See you later."

A few hours later, the rat pack family were all casually gathered in the Bogart's living room. The mood was solemn and quiet as they softly chatted and drank Bacall's infamous Bloody Mary's. The lady of the house as in good spirits going from one room to the other making her cocktails. At one point, Gene stood leaning against the wall observing Lauren skeptically as Frank walked up to him. "Hey, bud." "Did she break down at the hospital?" "Nope. Cried a little, but was calm. To tell ya the truth, it kind of scares me." "Me, too. Look at her. She's in denial. She thinks it's a party." "I have a feeling she's going to explode soon." "Probably when we all go home." "That's why I'm not." "Huh?" "I'm not leaving her alone. I already told  her I'm taking the guest room." Gene took a sip of his drink, not sure if that was at all wise. He saw Judy head towards the kitchen and followed suit.

Judy was getting a glass of water when she felt Gene's hand rub her back, "How you doin' sweetheart?" "Not as good as Lauren." "Yeah, no kidding. Frank said she was calm at the hospital." "She's trying to be strong for everyone I think." "Or in denial." "Could be, but that doesn't sound like her. She took the news of his cancer very courageously." "Yes, but there was still hope then, baby. He was still alive. He's gone now. He's gone. I don't think it's hit her yet. Hell, it hasn't even hit me yet." She nodded sad just as Lauren walked in. They quickly acted nonchalant as the Mrs. crossed the room. She didn't acknowledge them and had no apparent smile - completely opposite than a minute ago in the living room. Gene grabbed a carrot from the veggie tray minding his own business but Judy stared at the back of Lauren who stood by the sink looking out the window there. "Looks like it's going to rain," the familiar posh voice said. Gene looked up at her, then caught eyes with Judy. Lauren turned around to look at them, her voice cracking, "Doesn't it look like rain?" "Yeah, honey," Gene answered softly as Judy bit her quivering lip. Lauren turned back around and suddenly she threw her empty champagne glass in the sink, shattering the crystal. Judy nor Gene flinched, but when Lauren started hyperventilating, they became concerned. Just as Gene got to her, her knees gave out and she collapsed into his arms as he eased her to the floor.

"....and so, the calm on Gene's face and the comfort of Judy's voice is what really got me through that breakdown there on my kitchen floor. And I'll forever be grateful for that." - Lauren Bacall

[shop5]

Ok so I got like 2 hours of sleep because I had a really bad nightmare and I need something to occupy my mind ATM  -- So I’m just gonna live blog Punisher under cut obviously spoilers 

I love how genuine the look on his face is 

And holy shit the shoot out in the woods in episode 3 when Frank shoots the Molotov cocktail in that dudes hand??? 

then this exchange: 

Oh and I really like small town sheriff guy 

This shot right here:

Frank castle summed up in one picture: 

EP4 ------------------------------

What do you have there Billy? A knife. NO. 

Also Billy has the kind of scars I draw on characters where you want them to look bad but they just kinda make the character hotter

Curtis puts up with so much and I love him

!!!!!!!!! Frank and Billy flashback! also some of franks childhood backstory

Billy killing the pedophile was pretty fucking sweet 

Also Dad Frank is my favorite

EP5-----------------------------------------------

Frank mid lecture getting excited about pizza is adorable

Also Madani going to Curtis’ group

“It wasn’t the war that twisted Billy, it was greed”  -Curtis

This exchange:

EP6---------------------------------------------------------

Frank listening to Amy and not killing the guy but burning down the studio instead but come on he 100% should have murdered that dude and made him suffer

Curtis having a girlfriend and I’m scared for her -- JUST LET CURTIS BE HAPPY

Curtis getting this guy glasses and helping out homeless vets I love him and he deserves to be happy

Billy is such a creepy dick but god damn Ben Barnes is hot

oh my god Frank opening up to opening up to Amy about Lisa and crying and now I’m crying and fuck this show I love it 

“Dad:Are you crying about the murder show? Me: I MIGHT BE”

Supportive dad Frank teaching amy how to take a gun off someone and shoot all while being equal parts proud and really bothered that he has to teach her that shit

DONT HURT CURTIS YOU ASS HOLE

oh thank god he didn’t hurt Curtis

Billy’s got a new weird murder gang, he’s got friends now

Madani Frank and Curtis team find billy and end it

EP7-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Frank, Madani and Curtis hashing it out

Noping right out of the therapist fucking Billy nope

Ok it wasn’t that long of a scene and Billy is awful but he’s still a fucking interesting character

awe billys gang has a club house

not gonna lie Billy training his gang is great

Curtis saying Franks just “looking for an excuse to keep moving” 

Lillian is a fucking BAMF

HOLY SHIT FRANK IN THE VEST TO SCARE BILLY IS AMAZING the colors in this scene are perfect -- The legit actual pain on Billy’s face when he realizes it’s Frank

EP8---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bad ass Curtis to the rescue!

Holy shit Billy is an evil mother fucker but but god damn he’s a great villain

Frank had the shot and he froze he still couldn’t kill Billy and it’s heart breaking

Ben Banes is really good my dudes

LIKE he’s evil but him being so confused about Frank still hurts

Curtis finally being done with Frank’s shit  good for him

Jon Bernthal is so fucking good like just so good

Oh no Frank went to the grave yard here’s the feels again

I love urban westerns so much

Frank crying my heart

EP9---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Everyone in the trailer like the most awkward family reunion ever

“No one really likes making their friday night the punisher pity party” I feel called out

“Maria knew what I was and she loved me anyway” ouch

More awkward Billy therapist sex scenes again luckily not that long still uncomfortable

god frank killing those dudes in the ally should be as great as it is but it is

The Billy and Madani face off is so tense and intimidating

And then Billy’s like:

Poor worried dad Frank with his flip phone

why is this therapist Lady Macbething Billy

YES AMY TAKING THE GUN AND SHOOTING THE FUCKER and frank taking the last shot so he killed him

Franks “I’m gonna do all I can to make that different for you” to Amy after she says is that all there is “Alive or dead?” 

EP10-------------------------------------------------------

oh no more Billy Frank flashbacks

Frank and Curtis hug! 

Dude the fight scene with Billy’s men tho

oh shit Billy setting up frank to make him think he killed those women

That’s just...damn man

EP11----------------------------------------------------------------

Oh man the Kastle episode here we go

Poor Curtis he puts up with so much

KARENNN I love her

this whole episode is a bunch of women telling frank to stop being a dumb ass and I love it

More Frank and Karen crying and I can’t

Karen Madani and Amy working together! 

Can we just appreciate Frank in the policeman’s uniform

EP12-----------------------------------------------------------------

Don’t. Hurt. Curtis. 

Oh good Curtis is ok. 

oh shit goodbye terrible therapist

EP13----------------------------------------------------------

This is it folks the home stretch

Oh good Madani’s alive 

AMY AND FRANK on the job!

ELEVATOR FIGHT SCENE

don’t jump on moving cars Frank

Billy passing out getting the bullets taken out Me: Suffer bitch. 

BILLY LITERALLY IN THE TRASH WHERE HE BELONGS

A+ Alice in Chains

You’re the whirlwind

God damn I hate billy but hes so charismatic and sad it hurts

OH MY GOD FRANK KILLING BILLY WAS SO SATISFYING

Franks monologue fucking chills and their revenge with amy is so perfect

good dad frank is good

MY HEART

[conoscenze]

There are about fifteen minutes before Pyrrha has to leave to go to her aunt's house, and how else would she spend them but to call Fujunko and serenade her one last time this year? The first song that pops into her head, Kokomo, is then followed by a couple minutes of rambling about how much she's enjoyed spending time with the younger and hopes to spend more together in the future! And later, just after midnight, she'd send a text with a single kiss emoji: a traditional start to the new year.

happy new year! --- @duskfloret.

Fujunko is a little selfish; it’s useless for her to deny that. Though she will respect that Pyrrha’s own plans for New Year’s, she can’t help but wish for a sudden incident that might prevent her from fulfilling them. It’s wrong, it’s bad, but... maybe then, she thinks as she puts on her signature red eyeliner, maybe then we can spend the night together, and...     Before her thought finishes, her phone rings; with a snatch, not even sparing a glance at the caller name, Fujunko is readily answering it. Hearing Pyrrha’s voice completely sweeps away all of her previously unpleasant feelings---which are replaced, in less than a second, by pleasurable glee and that special fuzziness embed within her chest. After their usual exchange of greetings (which elicit from her, as always, a good amount of happy giggling), though, Fujunko is taken by surprise. Slowly her laughter fades, and she is standing still in front of her bathroom mirror as she grows to understand, note by note, word per word, that Pyrrha is serenading her. She’s not familiar with this song---she’s definitely never heard it---however her English knowledge helps her grasp the meaning behind the lyrics pretty easily. That, along with Pyrrha’s angelic voice, Fujunko’s warm sensation only grows bigger and bigger, a big smile stretching her lips; her other hand is clutching at her chest, trembling ever so slightly with need. A strong, insatiable ache for Pyrrha to be right here with her in this very moment.     I want to kiss her.     Her mouth silently words that phrase, not vocalizing it. Before speaking, Fujunko lets the other spill out all her rambling as well---she could listen to Pyrrha’s voice for hours and hours on end, and never get tired of it. And with each word, an additional fluster begins to paint her cheeks in pink. She just feels so simply grateful that she is being graced with whatever is between them---whatever is causing her to feel so immensely elated without even doing so much if exchange a simple “hello”. Fingers reach out to grasp her own wrist, squeezing ever so slightly. I want to hold her.     As soon as Pyrrha is finished, Fujunko lets a silent moment linger; with an exhale escaping her lips, she then begins speaking.

“Py-Py-chan... can---can I call you Pyrrha, this once?” she knows the other probably does not mind, but Fujunko asks for permission anyways. “... I’ll admit it. Next time, I definitely wanna be with you for New Year’s. Today it went this way, and I’m okay with it, but---I want to be with you. Especially in these super special occasions, y’know...? You’re important to me. I want to share and live these moments with those I really... really appreciate.” soft laughter follows; she’s kind of glad Pyrrha cannot see her now, to be frank. Her cheeks are growing terribly bright---so much that she can imagine being endlessly teased about them. (Not that she would mind it. Especially if it’s Pyrrha doing it.)     “The time we spent together this year was incredible to me, and---and, well. I got to meet you, first of all. I can’t be more grateful for that. Hell, I probably will never be able to truly express just how grateful I am!” she pauses. Then: “I... just---let’s see each other soon. I’m not too good with words when it comes to this, so, I... need to be face-to-face. After you serenaded me like that, I don’t really know just how much,” flustered giggling interrupts her, and her hand attempts at cutting it off early so that she can finish her speech. It’s too late to turn back now: it’s all or nothing. “Just how much... I can contain myself any longer. This year it’s gonna go this way, but---I really, really wanted to show you how important you are to me.”     I want to kiss you, so that the new year can start in the best of ways.     Not much after their call finishes, Fujunko takes a minute to recompose herself by leaning onto the sink, hands gripping it by the sides to make for support. Her face is beyond red---she feels so hot she might be as well fuming---and her expression is none less flustered, with thin lips and wide eyes. However, the phone reminding her that it won’t be long till she has to meet up with her friends snaps her out of her trance with its loud ringer. Hastily, fingers work to perfect her make-up and her hair; still, she can’t lie.      Over and over again, her mind keeps replaying the call she and Pyrrha shared just minutes ago.

During the New Year’s countdown, between laughter and joking and exhilarated yelling, Fujunko is distracted from what happened few hours before. She’s not drunk---she has been drinking non alcoholic cocktails and soda, at best---but she is most definitely on a sugar high. The clock in the Karaoke room she and her friends are partying in slowly but surely reaches the final seconds, and Fujunko too, along with everyone else, starts counting with eager anticipation.     3... 2... 1...    明けましておめでとうございます！

What stops Fujunko from immediately wishing each and every single one in the room new year’s wishes, is her buzzing phone, which takes her completely off guard.     “... Heh.” her expression softens the moment she sees who sent the new message. After attempting at writing down something coherent without success, Fujunko gives up, resorting to, instead, sending a photo. With some effort she manages to get a good snap (picturing her holding up peace fingers and making a kissy face), that is sent right away to her beloved Py-Py-chan. The message attached reads:

[TEXT: Py-Py-chan♥♪♫ ]: wish you were here right now so that i could shower you with kisses♥♥♥♥ happy new year cutie~~!!

[honeylikewords]

Hey love. Can I please get some hcs on franks gf of a few years asking him for a child or just discussing it ?

you certainly may!

I gotta say, I’m a believer that Frank would wanna lock it down with a wedding after a while. Nothing fancy- just him in a basic suit (he might not feel confident enough to wear his Marine regalia again after everything...), his love in a pretty dress (whatever she feels beautiful in is good enough for him, you know? If she wants to just wear her cocktail dress from the time they went on a nice date to an uptown restaurant, he’s game. If she wants him to buy her the biggest, poofiest ballgown this country’s ever seen, he’ll do it. Anything for her), and someone officiating. He thinks Curtis would be good for the job. 

He’d want to be married so she can have any benefits the system would provide and because, well... he’s a touch of a traditionalist and he wants to know she’s his, and he’s hers, all the way from here until the end of time. He likes knowing he has someone to count on and call his own. 

But marriage or not, Frank was hesistant about kids. He wants them, God only knows... he’s a father by make and trade, it’s bred into his bones, but... his terrible life ruined his greatest joys once upon a time, and he’s not ready to do that to a new set of children. He’s not ready to wreak his havoc in new little lives if he isn’t absolutely sure he can protect them.

But now that he’s been out of the Punishing game for a while, been living a quiet life as a new man with his girl by his side, he’ll catch himself looking at her and thinking about what a good mother she’d be. He never says it, never tells her, never brings it up, but he thinks it. He thinks their kids would be the most beautiful kind of children; warm-hearted, strong, resilient, loyal, and with dark curly hair and big eyes that sing of wonderful things.

One day when he and his girl are sitting in the park, Max running with other dogs, two women pushing strollers walk by, and Frank eyes his girlfriend leaning out of her seat on the bench to watch the infants roll by. She waves at them and smiles, and Frank’s heart drips with love, oozes adoration. Still, he stays quiet.

When she leans back, takes his hand, entangles their fingers, and looks up into his face, starry-eyed, he can feel himself melting. Oh, God, the things that look can inspire him to do. Burn down cities or build them up, cut a throat or save a life. Anything.

“Frank,” she says, voice soft, “have you ever thought about... and I know, I know it’d be hard, so you don’t have to say yes- or say anything, if you’re not ready, or you don’t want to- but have you thought about... us having kids?”

Frank stiffens, his eyes going wide, his jaw clenching as his breath tenses.

Of course I have.

Of course we can’t.

We should. 

I’d love them. 

I’d ruin them.

I love you.

I’ll ruin you, too.

I’m too scared.

I need that kind of love in my life.

I can’t bear to lose them or lose you.

All these thoughts and more run through his head faster than he can see them, catch them, realize he’s thinking them. But then he finds himself nodding, feels his dry lips opening as he lets out a hoarse “Yeah, I have.”

“Oh.” Her eyes light up and her cheeks look warm and full as a smile presses her lips together. “You have?”

“Couple times.”

“And?”

“I’d hope they take after you.”

“Oh, c’mon-” “Really. You’re... you’d be a good... I’m not...”

“Frank, you’ve been a wonderful father before. And I know that if you were ready to be, you could be just as wonderful again. Maybe more.”

Her hand touches his face and he thaws into her, face conforming to the curves of her palm as his eyes fall closed with emotional exhaustion and confusion, seeking the quiet of the dark.

“You’re a good man. And a good man can be a good father, if he works at it. If you ever are ready, I am, too. We can make this work. And it’ll be hard and scary and Christ only knows we’ll both have to work our asses off to make it come together, but it’ll be worth it.”

“Yeah,” he smiles to himself, chuckling at the way she gets so passionate. “I can tell you’re gonna be a spitfire mama, huh?”

She laughs in the way frightened, happy people laugh, and he kisses her, as gentle and soft as he can be. And it feels real. It feels like the opening of a door to a good place. It feels like he’s on the road to readiness, however long it takes.

[benbarnesescape]

You Make Me Wanna

Billy Russo x Curvy PoC

Warnings: Just sweet, sweet fluff

A/N: So I wrote this inspired by a few people but I want to dedicate it to my beautiful @xgminigypsy . She writes a blog for women who are curvy and beautiful and we just don’t see enough of that on Tumblr. I generally try to keep things ambiguous for my writing on this blog but for this instance, the reader is going to be of color and curvy and wonderful. I am not doing this to shame anyone but to add to the diversity of female characters that I write about it (I do apologize if my writing feels alienating to someone who doesn’t identify as female or heterosexual – its not that I don’t support it just not what I write)  

Special shout out to @binsbonsadoration and @thesandbetweenmytoes for always bringing me back to my first love Ben – they know the Sebastian/Ben/Chris struggle I am have been combatting and they always know how to re-inspire

In this AU, just to remind le folks, he’s not a backstabbing murder douche and he’s still a dick but in the most adorable way you love a man who’d look like Billy and be completely and head over heels for you.

Also this will be in 2 Parts

He would never admit it out loud, let alone to you, but he absolutely loved weddings. He liked the way it felt when he first entered the ceremony part of a wedding, taking in all the care and attention and detail it took from the decorations to the music. Liked the way people seemed to be super excited as they found their seats, chatting along with strangers they normally wouldn’t as they impatiently waited for the activities to begin. Loved watching bridesmaids walk down the aisle, leading up the grand entrance of the bride. He loved that. Loved watching the joy and pride and pure love that filled a room when bride makes eye contact for the first time with her groom and the groom sees his bride.  

He loved afterwards leading to the reception, cocktails hour and dancing. Food that tasted a bar above a frozen delicacy and rich, delicious wedding cake. Waving the happy couple off and tipsily heading home, hoping one day to capture the feeling that only a wedding could capture and make you feel.

He just loved weddings.

Of course, he never let you know that. Not because he was ashamed, or held a secret guilt to weddings.

But because you hated them.

You hated everything that he was so curious to explore and know – from the planning all the way down to the end of the night. You were there for the party – sure, anyone in their right mind liked a good party. It was the sense of obligation attached to the partying, the expectation and duties that came along with being in a wedding.

He knew your view of weddings were shaded. While he had attended many of the ceremonies as a guest – you had always been in them. You knew what it was like to deal with tense, stressed out brides and parent in laws and bridesmaids who didn’t feel like they were getting enough attention even though it wasn’t their day. The downfall of being such a social creature and the worse of it was that despite wanting to say no you never could, feeling morally obligated to the friend who had thought of you and asked.

This time had been no different.

As he sat down in his seat, his eyes looking for you desperately, he could feel Frank and Maria moving to sit by his side, Frank chuckling as he asks,

“You know, she’s in the wedding party. So she most likely isn’t going to be around until this thing gets started.”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he directs his attention to Frank, answering swiftly,

“I know that, I was just looking.”

“It’s a bit odd right. Madani getting married. Never took her for the type.”

Billy chuckles as he digs through his phone, double checking to see if you’d responded to his text as he thought back to his ex and ironically your newfound best friend Dinah. Dinah Madani wasn’t the kind of woman that got married in churches. Much like you, he didn’t figure much that she’d get married at all. But when she had met David two years back, something had shifted in her – that wild, cynical fire finally tamed. He was able to get her to relax, to take a breather and now they were having a big uptown wedding, in a big cathedral followed by the reception of the century to be hosted in a swanky, posh venue that was probably way overpriced.

“So now that begs the question - when are you and Y/N going to have one of these? You both have been together forever. I know you love her – would move mountains for her. Know for a fact she loves you just as much. What’s the delay? Out of the group, its just you too. Even Curtis is getting hitched this summer.”

Frank Castle wasn’t much of a sentimentalist. In fact, the ex-marine turned mechanic really opened up to Maria, his wife when it came down to it. Except he loved being a father figure when it came to love. Love made him just as sappy as weddings did for Billy and Billy especially hated it when Frank brought it up. Frank loved you – loved the two of you together and was constantly pushing Billy to push the question. Like now. Billy frowns, shifting in his seat uncomfortably as he debates his next words.

“She doesn’t want to get married.”

He decides on the truth. Never gone that route before.

“Really? Y/N? She’s been in like…a million of these things. I feel like you’re usually stag the few hours to each one because literally every wedding I have gone to she is part of the wedding party. How, how could someone who is in so many weddings hate them?”

Billy shrugs as Maria comments, looking away from her purse quick enough to say,

“Y/N does it because she loves her friends but she doesn’t believe in the institution of marriage. She has this weird belief its what kills most relationships in her family so she’s trying not to curse it for herself.”

She shoots Frank a warning glance that he pointedly ignores before she returns back to digging for whatever she’s looking for in her bag and Frank raises a brow, shaking his head.

“Well….there you go. You ever talk to her about it?”

“No.”

“You ever gonna talk to her about it.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Frank was his best friend. He loved him. He would do anything for him. But he hated when he prodded. Knew he couldn’t help it, especially with the people he cared about. But Billy was trying to process what Maria had just told him, thinking back to every conversation and interaction that he has ever had with you. This was new for him – you never had admitted this to him. It was the one area that you weren’t honest in, ducking out the conversation before addressing it head on. But the more he thought about it, the more it checked out.

You were terrified of commitment. Had broken out in hives for a week after he had asked you to move in with him. He had always thought it was a reflection of him but now as he thought back on it, thinking through your own relationship with your parents, it made sense.

You had a weird superstitious ideology despite the fact you were a neurologist. The few instances where science and believes overlapped.

“Leave him alone Frank. Besides the wedding is about to start.” Maria’s voice interjects and right on cue music plays, and Billy is able to get distracted, thinking back to you.

Wedding’s pulled out your bad habits. And it was because the whole fanfare was one stressor after the other.

The morning had been a smooth transition for Dinah but a fucking hurricane for you. Because you couldn’t even be a bridesmaid for this wedding, no, you had to be best goddamn friends with the bride and thus her Bitch of Honor. Maid of honor. However you wanted to label the slave title. You had to wake up at 5 so you could work out to proactively combat the anxiety, before picking up your dress and Dinah’s at the dry cleaners. You had to rush to her room to wake her up, get her ready for her pre-wedding brunch as bridesmaids all gathered in the room, gossiping and talking to each other happily without a goddamn care in the world.

After brunch and mimosas (really just a lot of mimosas) there was hair for everyone and then a quick reprieve where you had to double check that everyone had their bloody shit together (which they didn’t) and then get started on make-up before making sure everyone was dressed. That was all between making sur the photographer was on time, double checking the decorations for the venue space with the wedding planner, grabbing the flowers for everyone, talking down the father of the bride and the groom and then getting ready all before five. Then sitting in Manhattan traffic on a bloody Saturday afternoon before finally piling into the church.

You had received one text from Billy, the few words etched in your mind,

You will survive today. And at the end of it, we can take a bath and cuddle all you want. I love you

That was all you wanted now. You just wanted Billy, a large glass of Chardonnay and a bathtub. And if he wanted to have mind blowing sex to numb your brain from this day, then that would be even better.

Right now you couldn’t have any of that so instead you’ve dipped away from the loud space, the drunk people getting to you more than you would like to admit as you find safety in the outside garden, the dim lights shielding you from everyone else. You dig in your purse satchel, finding the rolled up joint that you had made two days earlier as Billy teased you about being high at the wedding, and your lighter before walking toward the water fountain that was so hidden off in the shadows no one could find you.

Your anxiety was at its height and you just needed a few hits, something to calm down your nerves so you could make it through the rest of the night. Survive wearing this tight fucking dress that Dinah had sweet talked you into wearing, the corset you had cinched on effectively killing your circulation and your sure a few ribs. Finally find Billy and have a good time with him without feeling guilty about dodging his inquiries about weddings and marriages.

You light up the joint, bringing the thick paper to your lips before you take a long drag, allowing the smoke to fill your lungs and you can already feel yourself relax as you sit on the bench across from the peaceful fountain, watching the water fly into the air and then into darkness in the safety of moonlight.

It’s here you can finally give into your insecurity, the reason why your anxiety has been skyrocketing for the past week. The real reason you hated weddings.

You loved yourself. You truly did. You loved every dimpled curve of your skin, every dip of cellulite, every jiggly perfection that the world thought otherwise. You loved that Billy had things to grab whenever he so desired, that in the winter time you could stay warmer because of the extra weight and that you made v-neck shirts your bitch because of the blessing of cleavage. You loved that your skin wasn’t pale, that it had color and life and fucking glowed in the summer time, like you were an Amazon goddess. It had taken you years to get to where you were and you confidently owned how you had defined yourself.

But despite all this, despite the therapy and love you had in your life, you still couldn’t get the small voice out from the back of your mind.

No one will ever want to marry you – you are unworthy of another man’s love.

Your mom was loving. She was kind and thoughtful and, on the surface, was a good woman. But she had inner demons that were dark and pitiful, and she projected her self-worth onto you. She was curvy like yourself, even bigger, and had never embraced that these were the genetics that were given to her. Instead, she was spiteful, angry – and she took it all out on you.

You took another long drag, shaking your head. You knew Billy wanted to get married. His eyes shone whenever he saw the pretty embossed letters come into the mail, an indicator of another wedding. He tried to hide it, but you knew he secretly loved weddings. You knew he’d probably be an ideal groom if you ever planned one. No – he couldn’t be excited about doing the dishes, or putting the toilet seat down, or cleaning up his beard hairs that he would trim into the scratchy shadow that you lived for – no, he’d have to be good at the one thing you just didn’t want.

“So this is where you went off too.”

You jump, coughing hoarsely as you turn to see Billy slowly prancing down the stairs, his hands in both of his pockets, tie loosened with a large smile on his face.

“Goddamit Billy – you scared me.”

He chuckles as he nears you, easily finding a seat near you, his body pressing against yours.

“That was not my intention luv. What are you doing out here?”

You roll your eyes as you hand him your joint and he smiles, grabbing it easily from your fingers before taking a puff,

“Thought you’d at least share. You know I like Dinah and David but goddamn is she marrying into a pretentious bunch.”

You laugh, your head falling onto his shoulder as you weave your arm within his and give a contented sigh.

“Tell me about it. I’ve been stuck with the lot of them for months.”

He hands you back your joint before placing a small kiss on your forehead, squeezing your hand and you both sit there in silence, content to finally be in the presence of each other. It’s only a few minutes before he asks,

“What’s on your mind luv bug?”

You shrug, taking another long drag as you debate your next words. But your high and relaxed, your senses consumed by the marijuana and Billy and you decide to let down your wall.

“Why do you want to marry me?”

The words take him off guard, unaccustomed with you addressing something you find so important and he pulls away enough before saying,

“Do you really want to know?”

That was the thing you loved the most about Billy. That he wasn’t a bullshiter. That while he understood that the world operated in a place of grey, you could be upfront and honest with him. And he would do the same.

“You know I do. Why else would I ask it?”

“Easy then. Because when I am with you – I am complete. Not in that nostalgic Shakespearian way – no. You know how to challenge me. To make me look at the world with a different perspective. You are the sun in my world, the Venus to my soul. Before I met you all I knew was the lie behind love. But you show me that though love, like everything in this world, can be tainted, there’s always a flicker of hope that makes it pure. You make me pure. You make me want to be a better man despite all my instincts. I want to be a better man because I want to make you proud.”

You hadn’t expected him to have an answer, or the strong conviction behind his words. It takes you off guard, and you feel your chest tighten as you pull away and look at him.

Getting Billy to tell you he loved you like had been trying to get a five year old to give up candy after they had a taste. He was stubborn and had told you plenty of times that he didn’t feel like he needed to voice it in order for you to know.

It wasn’t until you had broken down and cried within one of those fights, admitting you just needed to hear it to be self-assured that he made it a point to tell you every day.

He was just too damn good for you.

That is what you think now as his dark eyes observe you seriously, even with just the moon and the small lights flickering in the intimate space. He’s watching you carefully, his hands tightened around your own and you shake your head as you fall back on his shoulder.

Because Billy was always honest with you and this was the one thing you had hid from him and that compared with the overwhelming feeling of love makes you feel ashamed. He allows you to silently stew in your brain, not saying a thing for a good five minutes. And then you finally whisper out,

“I don’t think I deserve to be loved by you and I’m afraid if I marry you, you’ll realize it too.”

The words hit him hard, like a shot to the chest because of all the reasons why he suspected you hated marriage, this was the last thing he could imagine. Even more so – you were the most confident women he had ever known – it was intimidating sometimes your confidence, so he doesn’t know how to navigate through this.  He feels your tears stain his shirt, the way you try to fight back the sobs starting to tear through your body and he pulls away from you long enough to crouch in front of you, his eyes bearing into you.

“Y/N, look at me for a second.”

You shake your head, willing to look away and he sighs as he grabs your hands, watching you.

“Dammit Y/N, please. Look at me.”

You look down at him, big bold eyes staring deep into his own. Of all your features, he had always been fond of your eyes, the bright orbs captivating him – pulling him into the allusion that was your perfection. He loved after a bout of lovemaking to spend hours just staring in your eyes, not needing to say anything but live in the moment that was your love.

“I don’t know who told you that you weren’t worthy of marriage. This is where this is stemming from I’m assuming – some asshole from your past tainting something sacred like marriage – but they don’t dictate what you do and don’t deserve. Only you do. And you are love incarnate. You are happiness and kindness and tenderness and everyone who has you in their life, has a piece of what it’s like to be loved. And it is me, that every day works to prove to you that I am worthy of your love.”

He frowns, his mind debating something before he digs into his pocket and pull out the velvet, powder blue box. You would know it from anywhere, even in this dim light and you feel your heart swell though the small, cynical part of you is screaming to shut up.

A Tiffany blue box that could hold one thing you’ve always dreamed of inside but had buried deep inside.

“I bought this after our 64th date,” he gives a slight chuckle as he opens the box and your heart can’t stop beating faster as you take in the ring. A large princess cut amethyst diamond, powder purple set in a rose gold band, sparking diamonds adorning it. It was exactly the kind of ring you didn’t know you needed until now. “I know its crazy that I even know its our 64th one but ….. the military makes you pick up weird habits and for some reason, mine was tracking how many dates we went on before I was certain you were who I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Frank and Dinah thought I was crazy. Buying an engagement ring, especially after it being six months. But I just knew – knew that you were it. I’ve carried this fucking thing for almost two years, waiting to see if maybe…..”

His hands are shaking as he offers it to you and he bites his lip as he states,

“You don’t have to say anything, especially because I am too high and tipsy and emotionally still trying to process how you’ve carried the weight of not thinking you deserve love to actually deal with rejection in the form of no so please say anything but that.”

You laugh, your voice raw and crackly as he smiles at you.

“Just know that this, and me, are here whenever you’re ready. No rush. But I want all of you – always if only you’ll have me.”

The last levy in you breaks as the tears rush down and you feel conflicted as your head shakes yes and Billy grins – all teeth as his eyes are hesitant.

“Wait, really? Shit. Fuck I didn’t ask properly….will you marry me?”

You laugh as you bend down and press your lips against his own and he sighs into the kiss, tears falling from his face as he pulls away and grabs your hand.

“I have to make this official.”

He slides the ring onto your finger and fits perfectly and you laugh as you look at him,

“You are always pushing me to do things.”

“That’s what you’re going to tell your fiancé as he reveals his soul to you?”

You grab his tie, pulling him to you as you kiss him slowly, your tongue coaxing over yours as you murmur,

“I’d rather show you how happy you just made me then tell you.”

He smiles against your lips as he pulls away from you, standing up and offering his hands.

“How about now?” a flicker of mischievousness runs through his face and you already know what he’s thinking. You turn back to the party, which was continuing without and look down at the time. You had a good twenty minutes before you needed to move on to the bouquet toss and cake cutting.

“You got 20 minutes Russo.”

Billy gives a confident smirk as he pulls you to him, his hands already snaking behind the dress and pulling it down.

“More than enough time.”

A/N: I don’t know why I keep defaulting to writing engagement stories with Billy ha ha. Some Freudian desire I’m sure for lots and lots of metaphors….as we discovered in a cruel game of MFK @thesandbeneathmytoes

ANYWAYS TELL ME IF YOU LIKE THIS! gotta put this in caps because the ben fans are really hard to engage and quite frankly its discouraging as a writer so please share the