#man i’m hosting a pity party for one here but i’ve had this stupid fucking cough for three weeks now !!!!

[tevos]

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[vogueinnie]

The Favor

       ━ WARNINGS ;  changbin x fem reader, dom!changbin, college party, smut, a looooot of teasing, mention of alcohol and drugs, finger sucking, fingering (f. receiving), voyeurism, degradation, dry humping, light choking      ━ WORD COUNT ; 1.8k      ━ NOTE ; note : here is my first “real” work, please be kind !! this is so cliché lmao, but who doesn’t like cliché? keep in mind that english isn’t my first language soooo there will surely be some mistakes. if so, tell me !!

Every minds present were dizzy, just like the smoky room they were in. The grey smoke was like a cloud above everyone. We couldn't see anything except the dancing bodies that were stuck together to the defeaning music who had taken possession of the place. Even the most shy and discreet ones were totally unrecognizable. It was unbearable for anyone who wasn't in the delirious atmosphere of this friday night.

Whoever once thought that youth was decadent had been right, and they were the proof of it. No more exams, no more stress, no more angry teachers, no more homeworks. This night, they all needed to act like the young adults they were ; partying like there is no tomorrow.

Everything was made for everyone to be at ease. Indeed, Christopher Bang, the night's host, was well known for his crazy parties. His student apartment had soon turned into a nightclub, hopefully his neighbors were the same age and they probably were here, enjoying this moment. Even the open windows weren't enough to let out the smoke of all the illicit substances. Everyone was in their own world, laughing, smiling, screaming, jumping with a glass in hand, and it would be bold to assume it was water. They were free minded, for one night at least.

You were in the middle of all these excited people, in the same state, mocking the ridiculous dances moves of your bestfriend, Jihyo. She had one goal and it was to seduce the " beautiful dark haired boy over there, oh my god he's so freaking hot ! " also named as Seungmin. Jihyo burst out of laugh and without knowing why you just did the same, way to tipsy to understand whatever she was saying. You were both looking stupid but who did really care, after all ? You were here to have fun.

The mood changed drastically as the electronic bass music changed in seconds to something much smoother, much slower, much more sensual. The couples present were not shy to stick body-to-body, swaying their hips without shame.

" Wait for me I'm going to see the man of my dream ! I'll be back soon ! Well I hope no, but... Yeah... I mean... You understand what I mean ! " Jihyo said.

You didn't fully understand what she said so you laugh, nodding your head. Without controlling your body, your hips starts to move to the sound that were playing. Your movements were slow, almost erotic as you roll your head back, exposing your neck to everyone that was looking at you. Your free hand were in your hair and you unconsciously bit your lip with a little smile when you start to feel all the curious eyes on you. Thanks to the alcohol you've drinked, you didn't feel ridiculous dancing alone.

The special attention that the predators around you, men and women, were giving you, only increase the urge to reveal more obscenity.

Apparently Jihyo seized the opportunity to talk with Seungmin and you couldn't stop smiling at the view. Finally, she was not letting her shyness took the lead. But your smile fades away the second your eyes meets two dark orbs.

Seo Changbin.

You didn't know why but you both never get along together. You didn't know each other, but you weren't compatible. Everyone knew that. Changbin was naturally sarcastic, raw and must of the time he speaks without thinking twice. And you were the exact opposite ; sweet, easy going and always ready to meet new people. The funniest part between the two of you were probably the fact that you were always craving for each others attention, a little nothing could make you argue, sometimes rudely, sometimes more in a teasing way. You were stuck in a cat-dog relationship, and anyone around you could sense the tension from Changbin and you.

The black haired boy was sitting on the sofa, right in the living room’s center. And he wasn’t alone, a girl was sitting on his thighs. Even if you couldn’t see her face you could already tell that she was pretty and totally his style, long light pink hair and a body to die for. But even the goddess on him couldn't make him take his eyes off you. And there we go for a battle of gaze.

« Dude I’m so high…» Felix next to him giggled, whispering these few words in a completely derailed deep voice.

Changbin took the drug stick his bestfriend gave him and he lets the substance slide down his throat in a relaxing way. His originally brown pupils were dilated in a deep black tone, and without taking his eyes off you he spats out the smoke with controlled slowness, gripping the female’s ass on him. But he gradually lost interest in her, thanks to the show he had in front of him.

You now understand why all the girls were head over heels for him. He was hot, indeed.

You felt your heart race so fast, the adrenaline running in your blood, thanks to the alcohol you’ve drinked. Why were you hanging like that in his eyes while moving your body, giving him a hot show of your own despair ? His attention was all you ever wanted right now. Boldly you slowly put your hand around your throat, almost wishing it was Changbin’s fingers wrapped around you, you give no pressure but you can see his thigh twich at the view.

The music changed again to go back to something more happy, and the bodies around you start to jump again. But you were standing here, like an idiot almost choking yourself just for your not-so-ennemy pleasure. The man in front of you seemed to be in the same state as you, glued to your eyes without even giving the pretty girl on him some attention.

With a courage you didn’t not know you have, you walked with an almost feline step to the sofa. What would have taken a few seconds if you were sober turned out to be more difficult with alcohol in your veins. 

However, you finally stand behind the one who you recognized to be Sana. She was, indeed, one of the most beautiful girls, but it wasn't her who caught his eyes. It was you. Sana probably felt that Changbin wasn’t responding to her neck kisses, so she sits up slightly to face a surprising sight. You, staring down at your new prey. 

The boy raised his eyebrows with a certain provocation in his eyes, silently asking you by this gesture what do you wanted. But you didn’t blink a moment, and the young woman felt too much in this intense exchange.

« You could have tell that you didn’t want me, for real. » She mumbles, standing up.

«  Me ! I want you Sana, c’mooooon ! »

«  Felix… she sighs, you’re not even straight. »

« Ah, yeah… I’ve almost forgot that detail… » He shrugs his shoulders, not bothered at all, and he tooks a sip of his drink while standing up too to follow Sana.

Even Sana and Felix couldn’t distract you.

You were too far away to correctly think, your brain were so fuzzy and you didn’t even understand why you get on your knees in front of him, but youd did. With a cocky smile, he spreads his legs apart, you were offering him such a delightful view. One of  his hands reached your face to slowly brush your cheek, almost lovingly. His index gives your naturally swollen lips some caresses and you immediately took it in your mouth, gripping on his wrist like your life depends on it.

He couldn’t help but broke the contact between your eyes to fix it on your lips sucking on his index, adding his major within. You rub your thighs together, and the thought that anyone could see you in this position, in front of Changbin, makes you unbelievably excited. But people were too busy having fun to care about you. His free hand goes around your neck, like youd did few minutes ago, and you let out a little gasp, keeping his two fingers deep down your throat.

« I’ve always known that you were so desperate. But that desperate… » He tooks his wet fingers back, wiping them on your cheek.

It was almost humiliating and you gulps silently when you felt your dripping core under your dress, your wetness stucking unpleasantly on your pantie. What was wrong with you, really ? You see in his eyes that he wanted to play. So you’re gonna give him something to play with. Your body moved closer to one of his legs, still on your knees, rubbing against it almost like a puppy waiting for some much-deserved reward.

« You want everyone to see how much of a whore you are, hm ? He pats his thigh with a mocking grin, come here. »

Without any hesitation, you straddle one of his thigh with your legs and he catches your waist between his two hands so he can trapped you against his body. His fucking hot body. Thanks to his black shirt you have a perfect view on his arms, and you can feel yourself wetter if that’s possible.

Slowly you started to move against him, you wanted to feel some friction, just a little something, the bare minimum. One of his hand slowly slide under your dress and he pushes your lace underwear aside to fully have acces to your heatness.

« So pitiful. Who would want to touch you ? You still move against him, letting his fingers slip between your wet and hot folds. Right in front of anyone, they’re all looking at you. You’re burning inside even though you know people are having fun. They see how much of a slut you are just for my fingers. »

« S-shut up… You whines, your head burried in the crock of his neck. More, I want more… »

« Can’t you be fucking polite for once, uh ? Or you can’t properly talk ? »

Changbin didn’t wait for your answer and you can feel two fingers deep inside you. You were so wet that it wasn’t unpleasant at all. Hell no, it was a relief. As if his digits were made for you, not too long, a little chubby, just the ideal length to meet your most sensitive spot. He starts kissing your jaw, his thumb were added to give your red bud some rubs. You were a mess in his arms, practically crying cause you were overhelmed by your pleasure and after a few pump inside you, you were cumming hard on his fingers, gripping his shoulder to keep your mind on earth.

« You owe me a favor now, looser. »

You now understand why you didn’t like him.

[imagines-hoarder]

The Devil in the Dark- Dark!Steve Rogers

Warning: smut, murder, abuse, gaslighting, swearing, drug and alcohol abuse

Word Count: 6,400

Summary: 70s AU; When a handsome stranger rolls into town, you get caught up in being the center of his attention. You could never expect how falling in love with him would change your life forever.

Masterlist

*I don’t think I’m pleased by what I’ve created, and honestly no one asked for what I am unleashing. This is my first dip into the marvel universe and probably the darkest thing I have ever written so be warned; this is not for the faint of heart. For those of you who can get through all 6,000 words, I’d love to get your feedback. This may only be the beginning. xoxox*

The room has become muggy and sweat clung to your neck as you pawed the velvet sofa. Everything had felt fuzzy at the edges after you smoked a joint in one of the shady rooms upstairs. After a couple more shots, you hit the dance floor and everything else in the last 30 minutes had been a blur. Now you sat watching everyone laugh and feign geniality without your rose-tinted lenses. You were at a party that you should have been ashamed of. Cigarettes, booze, and coke had awoken something sinful in the partygoers and after getting your own fill, you just preferred to watch.

Mel had tried to sell it to you earlier that evening as something else entirely: “It’s just gonna be a small thing, okay? Brian wants to see everyone again before we go back to A-State.” She had called just after your mother and her boyfriend departed for their first barstools of the night. She knew better than to call any earlier.

“Last time I checked, Brian doesn’t really do small gigs. Remember when he put on your birthday party last year and invited all his buddies? I'm pretty sure his scrawny friend was the one who puked in your fish tank,” you responded, twirling the landline cord around your finger and picking at a slice of leftover pizza. “You know I'm coming anyway. It’s gonna get really quiet around here in a couple of weeks when you go back to school.”

“Not if you come with me,” she said with a singsong tone.

“That’s why I’m staying here in the first place.” The pizza didn’t sound too appealing as your stomach turned sour. “If I wash and style a couple more heads, I should have enough money to join you and the meatheads for the Spring semester. Then we can get hammered every weekend together… just like old times.” You find comfort from her laughter on the other end.

You had spent the last couple minutes recalling the last time you saw Mel before you started people watching from the sidelines. You're pretty sure she was the one who rolled your joint, sitting wasted on Brian’s lap. When your eyes ached from staring at crowded bodies, you laid your head back and shut your eyes, letting the beat of the music ground you.

It couldn’t have taken more than a moment for the couch to sink under the weight of another person. “You alright over here?” It was a dude; no doubt he thought you were passed out or an easy lay.

You rolled your head to get a good look at him, and it was like the Big Man himself had decided to serve you sex on legs, carrying a Miller Light and smelling like cigarettes. He wasn’t from around here and wasn’t in college, that much you could tell; no guy fresh from adolescence could grow a beard like his. He wore a button-down that was half open and exposed how warm he was as a bead of sweat trickled down his neck. You had been so ready to tell him to fuck off until you met that pretty blue gaze. You must have looked like some creep undressing him with your eyes.

“I’m steller. You probably think I’m a burnout that can’t control myself,” you shouted to him, though he was close enough to hear you just fine.

“Well, I never said that.” His low laugh sounded like music. “I saw you come from upstairs. Wanted to make sure you weren't choking on vomit.” 

“That would make a fun story. Instead, I’m just people watching.” You turned your attention back to the bodies getting hot and heavy on a makeshift dance floor and hoped he wouldn’t notice the red blooming in your cheeks.

“I think that can be fun, especially when everyone around you is a stranger.” It was clear he wasn’t from Arkansas. His voice was as smooth as butter but lacked the draw everyone else in the room had. 

When you looked back at him, he was still looking at you. You extended your hand and he took it into his own for a firm shake before letting it far to the couch. You introduced yourself and smiled when you were able to restrain your nerves. “Now we’re not strangers to each other.” He returned the gesture and gave you a smile so dazzling it nearly sobered you.

“Name’s Steve.” He gave the room a passive glance-over without ever indicating he spotted another familiar face. “I’m not from around here. Just met a guy in town today and he told me I should stop by; he said he was the host.”

“Brian?” He gave you a nod but you’re sure he couldn’t recall what he looked like. “Yeah I know him; we grew up together. I’m actually really close with his girlfriend, Mel.” You knew he was listening but didn’t want to lose his attention to small talk. “And I know you’re not from around here, Steve.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m a townie, born and raised. I would have noticed a man like you if you were kicking around any earlier than now.”

He rewarded you with another smile, stained with allure. “I’m just passing through Arkansas and thought I would stay the night. I’ve never even driven through Arkansas; kind of one of those places you forget is on the map.”

“How do you think I feel? I’m living in this unremarkable town in a forgettable state.” He joined you in laughing as the music became white noise. You pulled your legs under your body as you leaned in closer to him. You quickly realized you must have looked so young and so enamored; no stupid. You couldn’t move now but he didn’t seem to mind.

“You know, I like your style. You’re a beauty with a mouth on you.”

“Do you want to see what else my mouth can do.” It fell from your lips before you could stop it. You quickly looked away from him in hopes of returning to the conversation you were pursuing before you ruined it. His gaze burned into your face before he got up. You could have scolded yourself for how soon you played your cards. Before you could blame the substances in your system for your poor behavior, he stood in front of you trying to regain your attention.

When you looked up, his head jerked toward the door. “You wanna smoke outside?” Something about the question made you tense. You could use some fresh air and thought Steve could make good company, but you didn’t want him to think you’d be an easy lay he could fuck around the corner; you were sure that was the impression your lewd comment left. He must have sensed your reluctance. “We can stay here if you want but I can barely hear you over the music, doll. Promise I won’t try anything on ya,” he disclosed.

Maybe it was a bad idea, but you decided to go anyways. He offered you his hand as he detached you from the velveteen sofa. Before you were even out the door, he was pulling a have-full carton of cigarettes from his pocket and wedged one between his lips. No one else was outside, but you could hear the muffled rhythm of a Donna Summers tune starting up by the time you settled at the edge of the house. After supplying you with a cigarette of your own and drawing close to light it, you reached a comfortable silence that let you take your drags in peace.

“So why California,” you asked. You supposed his brusque appearance could sell magazines or movie tickets. “Trying to catch your big break in Hollywood?”

“Nah, just need a fresh start. I’ve been living in the cold all my life, just wanted a fresh start somewhere warm, you know?”

You give him an affirming nod. “The weather’s not too one this end of the country, I guess. Where are you coming from anyways?”

He just chuckled it off with an air of skepticism. “You sure ask a lot of questions.” 

“Well we aren’t strangers anymore, right? We’re sharing a smoke, having a laugh...” 

He just shrugged, deflecting the question in the process. “Maybe I wanna know more about you.”

“There’s not much to know about me.”

“Well, I don't believe that for a second.” You roll your eyes and lean against the brick wall, listening but refusing to give him the pleasure of seeing you blush. “You’re young, you're beautiful… girls like you aren’t born to both start and end in nowhere Arkansas.” 

''I want to, but not all of us have the luxury of up and moving to California, Stevie.” When you looked over to him, he had a look that you hoped wasn’t pity. “Plus, I’m earning my Associates Degree at Arkansas State. I’ve got one more year of being tied to this place.”

“Stevie... Gosh, I haven’t been called that since I was a kid.” You smirk at him, taking his change in the subject as an olive branch. The air became quiet again, but you were thankful there was no ill-ease. You just closed your eyes and inhaled the last of the smoke warming your lungs. Maybe if you stood in the moment a little longer, you could convince yourself this handsome man was real once you sobered up.

All too soon, you had put out the cigarette butt under your shoe and took it as a sign to start walking back home. It had to be past four a.m. and it looked like the moon would make its departure sometime soon. “Well it was a real pleasure for you to meet me Stevie, but I should start moving before it gets any later.” You pushed yourself off of the wall and tucked your hands in the pockets of your jumper dress. “I hope you find what you’re looking for in California.”

He threw his butt out into some nearby rocks before stepping a little closer to you “Come on doll, let me drive you home. It’s late and everyone else is wasted out of their mind. Plus, I don’t think Brian even knows I was here; he just invited me cause I helped him jump his car this morning.” He was too nice to be true, but you didn’t think your mind was capable of creating something as beautiful as him. Maybe you wouldn’t mind it so much if he stuck his rough hands up your dress after all. He’d be gone in a day anyways.

“You know, young women aren’t supposed to take rides from strangers, right?” You started to walk down the driveway and tried to restrain your smugness as you heard his heavy footsteps trail behind you.

With the extra height he had on you, he caught up in no time, carefully tugging at your arm so you looked back at him. Your arm rubbed against his chest and you now knew for sure that he had more than just a pretty face on him. “I thought you said we weren’t strangers,” he retaliated. He didn’t seem like the type of man to take no for an answer, but you weren’t hoping to put up too much of a fight. As you looked at him in the moment, you saw him look you over and his cornflower blue eyes held a look that said there was something he desired about you too.

He let you pull away from him as you decided to make your final impulsive decision of the night. “Alright hotshot, which ride is yours?”

You had him drop you off a couple houses away when he drove into your neighborhood. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to invite him inside for a beer and a ‘farewell gift’, but you were sure that your mom and Pierce were already passed out and drained any bottles that were left in the fridge on their way in. Still, you spent a couple minutes steaming up the windows in his car as he slowly pushed up your dress.

You pushed at his chest and pulled down your dress when you thought the neighbors would start getting suspicious of the unfamiliar ‘73 Chevelle Malibu with the clouded windows outside their house. “Look, Steve, I gotta go. Drive safe.” You tugged at the door handle but he stopped you before you could get out, pulling you back into an attack of fervent kisses. “Steve!”

“Look, I’m staying at that Motel Court on Birchwood, Room 174. I want you to call me in the morning.”

“I thought you were just passing through...” You groaned as you pushed at his wandering hands again, trying to keep from giving him the pleasure of making you breathless.

“I am, but we can get breakfast or something? Shit, you’ll probably be passed out until noon so it’ll be lunch.” He finally let you pull away and you could see how his hair sat rugged from your needy gripping, a winded look splayed across his face. He looked around for an old receipt and pen and scribbled the name and room number of the motel on the back. He buried the sheet in your palm and you hesitated before accepting it. You reached for the handle again and he didn’t stop you as you stepped onto the sidewalk, only leaning over the seat and throwing you a wink. “You’ll call me, won’t you?”

You leaned into the frame so you could get one more look at his pretty face. “I’ll be up by 11… I’ll catch ya later.” You shut the door before anything else could be said and dragged yourself home.

After talking and teasing him at Kitty’s Diner the next morning, you let Steve take you back to his room where you got hot and heavy the rest of the day. You caught a case of Deja Vu when he dropped you off in the early hours of the morning again. You couldn’t hide your amusement when he said he planned to stay in town. “Just a little bit longer,” he professed. Steve had his arm around you as he pulled you towards him, almost tugging you into his seat. He wouldn’t say it but you had understood that he was enjoying himself too much to leave at the moment.

You spent the next five days in his motel room between your shifts at work, enjoying his body between listening to his stories and sharing your own. Mel had needed so much time to pack her life up for her return to college that you didn’t think she even took note of your absence around her place. You didn’t mind it though. He had been busy telling you about all the national parks he had stopped for and the best foods he’d tasted at 24-hour diners across the country. You’d mention your job at the beauty parlor down the street and your hope to travel cross-country yourself. He made even the bad parts of being on the road sound like an escape from your reality. You would talk about Led Zeppelin and Fleetwood Mac and write down music recommendations to keep an ear out for on the radio. One day he pulled out a little book and a set of pencils as you laid naked and fatigued in the tangled sheets. He kept looking up at you as he scratched into the page. After keeping his head buried in the book for half an hour, he joined you on the bed and showed you the drawing he was working on. It was you in all your bare glory. After your face had run hot and asked if you could keep it, he didn’t hesitate to kiss his way down to your wanting body. He was over six years your elder, and it was clear that he had prior experience with female anatomy, not that you minded. 

He was a man of passion in many ways. Between finding new reasons to hold you a little closer to him, he would talk about his favorite novels and the literary techniques of authors like Kurt Vonnegut. He knew so much about a world that you had barely seen, and it would have been difficult for any ordinary woman to resist the combination of his charm, good looks, and intelligence.

Every hour you spent with him only further suspended your disbelief that he was truly living in your presence. You were happy that he spoke toy you on Brian’s rundown couch that first night, and after a week of finding entertainment in one another, you help him pack up the trunk of his car with what little he had traveled with. Even though you were enamored, you weren’t stupid; he had been sweet on you, but you were sure he had a trail of women he must have left behind before crossing every state border. How could a man like him not? It made your chest tighten more than you cared to admit. A week after the party, he was dropping you off for the final time.

His lips worked slowly against your neck as you sat back in the passenger seat, enjoy the last moments of his attention before he became nothing more than a memory, “I’m sure that you’ll have a new gal by the time you get to California, but will you give me a ring when you’ve settled anyways,” you moaned into his ear.

Steve pulled his head back to get a clear look at you as if he’d sobered from his lustful haze. He relaxed back into his seat and ran his hand through his messy mop with a heavy sigh. You were sure you’d killed the moment before he spoke up. “What would you say if I wanted you to come with me?”

“What?”

“I wasn’t messing around when I said you deserved better than Arkansas. You were born here but you don’t have to spend your whole life here.” Your mind was moving rapidly but you could barely focus on a single thought. “I think I’m in love with you. If you can come to California, you can keep doing hair, you can finish your degree, anything you want.” By the time he finished, only silence sat between you and he fidgeted with his keys. He waited for your response and only got more nervous when you didn’t have one. “Shit, I shouldn’t have said anything, doll. I’m s-”

“I’ll come with you,” you said. 

The words took a minute to settle before he could laugh out a sigh of relief. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, Stevie. I… I think I love you too. I wanna go with you.”

He pulled you back against him and toyed with the ends of your hair. “God, you’ve made me the happiest man alive, baby. I don’t think I could have left without you.”

“And I wouldn’t want you to.” You kissed at his beard and stroked his cheek. “I need to start packing if we’re leaving in the morning.”

“Do you want me to pick you up tomorrow?”

“No, just... Just give me 15 minutes and I’ll be fine. I can go back to the room with you and we’ll be good to go in the morning.” You knew there wasn’t much to be gathered in your room. Just some clothes for warmer weather and books. You’d grab your cosmetology kit, some family photos, and some cash that you’d hid before your mom could notice in her drunken stupor. There wasn’t much worth salvaging from your current way of living. “I’ll call Mel later and tell her I’m leaving. She can tell the salon that I won’t be in for my shifts next week.”

“I can wait out here for you unless you need help.”

“No, just sit here and I’ll be back soon.” You kissed him one more time before exiting the car, walking with haste to get into the house.

When you walked inside, only the T.V. lit up the front room and it was if every step you took awoke the house. You were quick to pack your bag once you reached your room, grabbing for things that you decided were necessary in the heat of the moment. Once you cleared through your desk and closet, you pulled at a loose floorboard and grabbed the wad of bills you’d been saving for your semester tuition. Once you emptied your smugglers hold of some photos worth saving, you replaced the floorboard as if nothing were ever there.

“And what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You nearly jumped out of your skin as you caught a look at the figure in your door frame.

“Didn’t know you were home yet. Thought you and Pierce were still out for the night.”

“When I come home I expect you to be here. Do you know what goddamn time is?” Your mother was not and never had been a happy drunk, and when her boyfriend would come around it only made things worse. She started to walk towards you as you stood from your crouched position, hiding the cash and photographs from her sight.

“I was with Melissa. She’s going back to school this week and I wanted to say goodbye to her.”

“Don’t you lie to me,” she seethed. You knew this would not be the easy getaway you had wanted. “You were probably out whoring around again.”

“I’m not going to let you talk to me like that. I just told you where I was,” you challenged. You walked to your bed and filed away the contraband into your bag knowing that it was the last of the important items you could grab before leaving.

“You probably think you’ve been real clever coming in after we’re every night, but I’ve fucking noticed. You’ve never been all that smart.” She had stumbled into your room and the smell of whiskey was so strong it made your nose burn. 

You weren’t able to offer her a retort or a farewell before you heard more footsteps from down the hall. “What seems to be the problem here,” Pierce said. Drunk. They were both always drunk.

“Little Miss thinks that she can just whore herself out and then come home without consequences,” your mother announced.

“Don’t worry, I’m leaving anyway.” You grabbed your bag and made an effort to quickly escape the room, pushing past Pierce in the doorway.

“Don’t you walk away from us, bitch!” Pierce’s shouting became incoherent hollers and you sped towards the living room, but you could hear her footsteps behind you.

By the time you could see the front door, you felt a tug on your hair so strong it nearly pulled you to the floor with a shriek. “You think you’re just gonna leave and move on, huh?” Your head throbbed as she raged in your ear. “You’re nothing and you’re worth nothing. Once you’re not useful for whoring anymore, you’ll end up in a ditch on the side of the road.”

You punched her in the face before she could see it coming, something you had only thought about doing to her in your wildest dreams, and it was enough to throw her to the floor. You took the chance to grab your bag and run outside without a care for your dignity or the grace of your departure. You could hear her screams from down the street and you knew that at any second, the neighbors would be looking to see what had happened.

You slammed the car door as soon as your foot was inside, startling Steve. “What the hell hap-”

“Just drive, Steve!” You all but shouted as your mom stepped onto the front lawn with blood dribbling down her chin. He didn’t need any further explanation as he put his foot on the pedal. Your mother was still screaming, that much you could hear, but her slurs were muffled as you flew past the house.

You hadn’t noticed a smudge of your mom’s blood on your knuckles until you got back to the room and you spent the next 10 minutes trying to scrub away the ghostly red specks. You couldn’t stand the feeling of it. Steve stood in the doorways with his arms across his chest the entire time. He didn’t look too thrilled about how everything played out but didn’t say anything about it.

“My mom and her boyfriend were home and fucking wasted. I didn’t even know until she came in screaming at me, calling me a whore and stuff.” He walked up to you as you dried your hands on an off-white towel. “Sad to say that’s not really an unusual encounter.”

“Are you gonna be okay, doll?” He looked concerned, maybe even a little angry for you, but the furrow of his brow did little to extinguish your distress. You just wanted him slightly closer and you held faith that he could obliterate the memory of this night.

“I’m fine... I just think that the sooner we get out of here, the better.”

“We’ll be gone before the sun even rises. Let's just get a couple hours of sleep and then we’ll be on the road.” He drew you nearer to him and you nodded as you looked past through him. “This will all be behind us in a couple of hours.”

He bent down for a kiss and you readily gave into him. In so little time he had made you feel alive. He made you feel wanted. You had so little in the world — your mom was a drunk and your father had long hit the road; you were low on friends and even lower on funds — and now you had even less. You were about to take any sense of stability that was left in your life and chuck it out the window in the morning. But it didn’t matter because even one more day with Steve would make you feel more alive and more loved than you had known in your entire life.

His mouth became eager and he pulled you even closer, working his way to your chest and down your stomach as his hand wandered up your skirt. Before you could think of touching him, he had you lifted over his shoulder with a squeal. He said nothing as he moved smoothly across the room and dropped you on the bed, casting himself over you. You tried to caress him, but he quickly pinned your hands under his and he sucked at your neck. You had transformed into a puddle of moans in no time.

“Please Stevie,” you choked out. You ground your hips against his jeans but the friction wasn’t enough.

“Please what, doll?” He reached between your legs and knew he could feel how wet you were. “You’re gonna have to use your words for me, baby.”

“Please… I need you inside of me.” You squirmed in hopes to pull your hand from his grip but it was pointless. You think he got harder just feeling you struggle under him.

“That's all you had to say,” he whispered in your ear and gave you a carnal kiss against the lobe. He shifted his weight to sit up as he pulled his shirt over his head. You didn’t have more than a moment you gawk at him before he was roughly pushing your skirt over your hips. All it took was him unzipping his jeans and he drove his cock all the way inside of you. You couldn’t find a sound to make as all of the wind was knocked from your lungs.

By the time you could find your voice, he was thrusting into you at a savage pace. You cried out in complete ecstasy and he held you down; your brain felt like it was turning to mush. He growled for you to open your eyes so he could so much you loved his cock and he looked back at you with something that could only be described as darkness. It was immoral and wicked, but you couldn’t find the will to care as the man above you grabbed you like he owned you and fucked you to oblivion.

He hissed as you came around him the first time but you knew he was not done with you. He didn’t let up on his strokes until he was mirroring your moans and he never looked away from your flustered face. One of his hands began loosely circling your throat as you clenched around him again and you could feel him throb as he came inside of you. With a grunt, he pulled out and let his hot cum escape your body onto the sheets. He let his weight fall to the bed without ever letting go, and you laid on his chest in post-coital bliss. If you could choose one moment in your life to relive, you were sure it would be this one, time and time again.

“Glad to know you can keep up,” you choked out jokingly. You felt his chest vibrate with laughter as he pressed his lips to your forehead.

“Always, doll. We’re only getting started.” 

A heavy knock on the door had broken the silence. Steve cursed under his breath as he zipped up his pants, and he placed you back on the bed. He took his time walking to the door but it was clear that the person on the other side was growing inpatient. He looked through the peephole and cursed again before turning away. He unconsciously ground his death with his furrowed brow.

“Who is it,” you asked, trying to keep your fear at bay.

He pointed at you with a stern look and a firmer tone. “Stay right there. Don’t say anything.” Before you could ask him what was happening, he undid the chain door lock and pulled it ajar, just enough to let the unwanted visitor see his face. “What do you want, man?”

“Where the fuck is she?” Pierce. It was Pierce and you could tell he was still drunk.

“Look, I don’t know what fucking drugs your own, but if you start beating on my door again I’m gonna beat your face in,” Steve fumed. Your jaw dropped as you listened in on the conversation; you’d never heard him talk light that before. He was always the type to open the door for you and smother you with pet names. He tried to close the door but you jumped at the sound of it slamming into the wall as Pierce threw all his weight onto it. He was bursting into the room before Steve could catch him and your blood ran cold as he saw you on the bed.

“Your mother's right. You’re just some lying, ungrateful whore.” His grip on your shoulder was sudden and he threw you to the floor. Your vision was spotty but you had other things you needed to worry about. “Only God knows how bad she’s gonna beat you for busting her nose like that.”

You heard a loud crack as Steve’s fist met Pierce’s face and you grabbed at the bed, trying to gain your footing. Everything was still a little blurred at the edges, but you could see as Pierce pulled Steve to the floor with him. As they threw punches and swore for each other's misfortune, you could only clearly make out the dark blood dripping from Pierce’s mouth onto Steve as he gained an edge over him, swinging at his face a couple more times. 

You looked around the room for something, anything to make them stop, but Steve had already taken most things to the car. You could hear Steve grunt as Pierce attempted to bash his face in. He had only tried to help you and now he was paying for it. That’s when you saw it. A butterfly knife sitting on the side table next to the cigarette dish and Steve’s wallet. You didn’t hesitate to grab it and before you could even understand the consequences of your actions, you plunged the blade between Pierce’s shoulder blades. 

He dropped to the floor without hesitation as he howled in pain. “You fucking bitch!” He sounded like a wounded dog as he sprawled on the floor, and you could only watch with wide eyes. God, what had you done...

Steve pulled himself from the floor and every breath he took was heavier than the last. He had missed most of his opponent’s drunken punches, but his lip was busted and he was rattled by the brawl. He looked crazed, and as he rose to his full stature, he moved to stand over Pierce who could do nothing but cry out in the fetal position. The knife was still wedged in his back.

You ran to Steve and cried as you tugged on his arm. “Steve, I don’t… I don’t know how he found us,” you choked out between heavy tears. “He must have seen the car.”

Steve said nothing. He didn’t even look at you, and that’s what scared you the most. His neck and back were tense and your touch wouldn’t be enough to soothe him. In erratic movement, Steve reached down and pulled the knife from between Pierce’s shoulder blade with a grunt. You gasped as Pierce choked out a sob. He shook in pain, blood puddling onto the carpet under him.

It was like a nightmare. Steve crouched over Pierce, looking into the old drunk’s soul as he squeezed the knife in his hands. You wish you had done something, wish you had said anything. With hasty slash and a depraved glower, Steve slit Pierce’s throat and you couldn’t turn fast enough to not see it.

Blood. Blood poured out Pierce’s wound like a broken fire hose, pooling at your feet while it splattered on Steve’s face and chest. For only a moment, Pierce sounded like he was choking, and then there was no more. No more cries, no more movement. It was just you and Steve standing over a corpse. Everything felt frozen in time as the room reached an eerie stillness that could be described only as insidious.

Steve was the first to move. He stumbled to the bathroom and threw the knife in the sink, letting the faucet run until the steaming water cleansed the weapon of blood. He bent over the sink and he watched it with morbid fascination.

You stumbled towards him, knowing that you couldn’t look at the body on the floor or you’d lose the last ounce of your sanity. It was only when Steve looked at you over his shoulder, the craze in his stare having vanished, that bile rose in your throat. You bent over the toilet and released everything you had ate during the day and maybe a little more. You could hear the sink faucet still running but Steve moved to your side. 

“Doll-”

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, Stevie,” you sobbed. His arm wrapped around your waist as his forehead fell to you back. Exactly where you stabbed Pierce. You flinched at the thought and Steve pulled back.

“Listen to me, okay?” He pulled you away from the toilet and directed you to look at him. There was blood all over his hands and on his torso. “Everything is fine.”

“He’s fucking dead.”

“I know, baby. But we had to do it”

“How are we gonna-”

“You don’t need to worry about that alright?” You nodded but it was a lie. You could do nothing but worry. “You’re gonna get in the shower. I’ll join you in just a second, but you’ve got blood all over your legs and I need you to get cleaned up right now.” You looked towards the ground and noticed that your feet were painted red; a trail of bloody footsteps led into the bathroom. “I need you to tell me you can do that for me.”

You took a breath in and tried to control the cry building in your throat. “I can do that.” You began taking off your clothes, looking for any bloodstains on the fabric only to be surprised when you saw none. You felt like you were covered in blood; there must have been a spot hiding somewhere. Steve had left the room when the saw you step inside the porcelain tub and you tried not to think about what he was doing in the other room. You let the lukewarm water run down your head and trickle down to your feet as you closed your eyes, willing you consciousness to hold on just a little bit longer.

Steve returned to the bathroom faster than you thought he would and was quick to strip his jeans and boxers. You could hear the curtain slide open as he joined behind you, pushing himself under the stream alongside you. He kissed at your shoulders and cheeks, as to tell you he had taken care of everything, and he scrubbed the crimson from his chest. You could only watch with a haunted expression as it all disappear down the drain. He turned off the water after he scrubbed both of your bodies to a level of cleanliness that you probably hadn’t reached in months. You threw on the clothes you had stepped out to close to the present and you felt dirty all over again. Steve must have retrieved his shirt from the bedroom earlier because he now looked like the version of himself from an hour back when he had nothing on his mind but loving you. Your sandals sat in the corner of the bathroom for you to toe on. When you fastened them both on at the heels, he opened the bathroom and your eyes snapped shut. You couldn’t see it again.

“You don’t need to look,” he whispered to you. “I’ve got everything in the car already. I just need you to take my hand and we’ll never be back here again.” You could want nothing more right now.

You felt for his hand and his calloused fingers wove between yours. He tugged you out of the bathroom and you could feel him navigate you through the mess you had both created. The irony stench of blood crowded your sense and you wished more than anything that you could protect him from having to see the sins that had been committed on this night. The layout of the room would be drilled in your mind forever and you were sure he wouldn’t forget either. Only when you heard him shut the room door behind you could you find the will to open your eyes but you never let go of his hand.

He put you in the car and got in on the driver's side, but he said nothing as he started the car and pulled out of the motel parking lot. You could feel it; the body was still in that room, soaking up a pool of blood. As you watched the hazy lights on the town dim in the dreary night, you got on the highway and knew that you would never see Arkansas again.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

reader being best friends with carter while he's chasing serena but also being in love with him?

CARTER BAIZEN APPRECIATION SQUAD ASSEMBLE! (i promise i’ll get to non carter requests)

y/n and carter had known each other for a while

they had met during a summer at the hamptons when his parents invited her family over for dinner

she had helped him inside the house after returning from a particular night out which to his parents was a meeting with some of his friends to go over stuff for the new school year

from then onwards carter and y/n became friends

he would meet her in the back of her parents apartment and the two would drive around the nights of new york talking about their problems

it hadn’t taken long for y/n to fall in love with him

he was an attractive, smart man who seemed to have more goals other than the vapid boys she knew from st.judes

it wasn’t like she expected him to return her affections. she was his sister’s age, 3 years younger. she knew he wouldn’t be interested so she hid it deep inside her heart where no one would see it

after all she’d rather have a tiny bit of his heart than have to pretend he never existed

maybe she should’ve seen it coming that he would leave, but she didn’t and one afternoon as she knocked on his door to pick him up to go for their weekly lunch at his favourite spot was the moment she wished she could’ve avoided it

it was his mother who had opened the door, tight smile on her face, pity in her eyes as she stared at the girl in front of her “do you not know, sweetheart?” “am i supposed to know something?” “he left. says he doesn’t want anything to do with this family anymore”

her heart stopped for a while, the buzzing sound of her mind wondering why, why he wouldn’t tell her

it had been his sister caroline who had helped her through it, telling her he wasn’t even worth the hazzle, to instead focus on the much more attractive boys her age attending st.judes

y/n wasn’t interested but as time flew by she slowly learned to accept that he wasn’t returning

she had built a life for herself, becoming one of constance’s shining stars holding near perfect grades

she had also built a friendship with blair waldorf after serena had left her, both of them bonding over having someone leaving unexpectedly 

“my mum was supposed to host a tea party for CeCe and she went to paris. usual” “do you need any help?” “wanna come? might make it less boring besides you still need a date for cotillion“ “well not everyone can have nate archibald for a date” “i am pretty lucky aren’t i? but you need a date, you cannot not have an escort. even serena is taking ... dan” “alright, i’ll go to the tea party” “perfect”

she should’ve not gone. she should’ve just accepted caroline’s invitation to go shop for a cotillion dress but she didn’t. she couldn’t see the future.

as she walked off the lift into the van der woodsen’s apartment, a familiar face showed, sat in a couch surrounded by girls 

“y/n” blair rushed over to her side “i don’t want to frighten you but ... carter’s here” “i’ve seen.” “i want you to know that i didn’t invite him. cece invited him, she wants him to be serena’s escort.” “that’s fine” “are you sure? i could kick him out” “that’s fine”

it wasn’t fine. 

she spent the whole tea party as further from him as possible, not sure of what to say to him or how to even react

although she had to admit it broke her heart that he wasn’t interested in even talking to her, instead looking her way and immediately turning to receive the praise of several girls

“he’s not even that attractive” blair rolled her eyes at her minions which were fauning over him “urgh, imagine being attracted to a wannabe matthew mcconaughey” “you don’t have to make me feel better, blair” “look at that last season suit. disgusting” 

she stayed until the end of the party, chatting up with several people who came to ask about her family business and by the end of the party she had even started to help the maids bring dirty dishes into the kitchen

“you were always an odd one, i have to give you that” a voice made her drop the porcelain onto the soapy water and turn her face towards its direction. carter. “y/n, i’m really sorry” “yeah i could tell since you didn’t call or write after you left” “i didn’t have any way to contact you” “you didn’t even tell me you were leaving carter. do you know how it felt walking up to your house and having your mother tell me you left?” “i had to go y/n” “so have i, carter.”

she didn’t want to speak with him, she didn’t want to fall back into the state

at least she had decided not to speak with him until nate punched him at cotillion 

“you look like shit” “thanks, y/n.” “i gotta say, i wanted to do that myself. nate stole that away from me” “how long are you gonna be upset with me, y/n?” “as long as i want” “c’mon, let’s do something together” “i said i would act civilised with you not lobotomised” “c’mon, y/n. i’ll pay” “do you even have any money? didn’t your parents cut you off?” “i’ll find a way” “... fine. the bar of the lotte new york palace

blair and caroline had told her not to go but she thought that it would be better to get it over and done with. to call it water under the bridge and not have him haunt her what ifs anymore

she found him at the bar of the palace, black suit on. he never used to wear suits, she still remembers him in his messy st. judes uniform, undone tie all the time

“you came” “i said i would” “i know you have every single reason to hate me but i miss you, y/n. i really do. i have so much to tell you” “some people would use a journal” “i fucked up, i know but ... second chance? you can punch me too if you want” “that’s a really good offer, i think i’m gonna pounder it” “how about i pick you up tomorrow night? late driving around new york” “you got yourself a deal, baizen”

soon enough she found herself in the same situation, still in love with him

he was still the same man, still the same chuckle, talking passionately about his projects, making stupid jokes

but one thing still was the same, the same thing she didn’t want to accept, he still would never reciprocate her feelings

“y/n, i can’t pick you up tonight. i have a date with serena.” “serena van der woodsen?” “yeah, do you mind?” “uh ... no... sure, go on”

her blood boiled out of jealousy

she always thought the reason he would never reciprocate her feelings was because she was younger but serena, serena was the same age as her and it stung, it stung so badly

she ended up at the house of the same person who could understand being jealous of serena : blair waldorf’s

“oh, please, y/n. seriously? carter? he’s so ... boring. god” “well i’m sorry blair not everyone can have their first time in the backseat of a limo with chuck bass” “hey now that nate is single maybe you should go out with him” “i’m not gonna go out with nate” “why you two would make such a nice couple” “i’m not in love with nate” “i’m sorry, y/n.” 

she pretended it was okay

she would smile whenever he talked about serena

she would be next to him when she undoubtedly got him inside her petty little games with chuck

she would be there when he quit her and she would be there when he took her back

she was there for everything until one morning where she was woken up by someone banging on her door

“nate?” “something happened and you might want to sit down” “what happened? are you okay?” “serena left with carter last afternoon” “what do you mean?” “they left y/n, together.”

suddenly she found herself in the same spot she had been years ago abandoned

he returned later that summer during the races but this time she didn’t forgive him

she spent the day with dan and blair, mindlessly listening to serena talking about how carter followed her but she knew better

she knew they’d be back together and surely again they were

carter should feel happy, serena was back but he didn’t feel better

he felt ... empty, like something was lacking

whenever he laid down next to her and feel asleep he dreamed of y/n

he dreamed of her vintage oversized tees reaching her knees as she read her favourite books in his study 

he dreamed of her laughter whenever he took her to a driver in theatre, fingers holding popcorns to her lips

he dreamed of her red tinted lips during festivities, dancing under streetlights singing showtunes, bitting her lips whenever she had a test

he convinced himself it was just missing her but part of him knew it wasn’t that

he should be with serena, her family approved, his family approved

so he stuck it out, convincing himself this was a phase just a phase

as serena dumped him on the side of the street he looked at the streetlight, remembering y/n in an oversized cardigan jumping puddles over it, twirling around it playfully

“what am i doing?”

he rushed down the streets of the upper east side like a mad man

he’d never walked this long

but he kept on walking, he kept on walking until he saw her apartment

he knocked on the door for what felt like a hundred times 

“i’m coming” he could hear her sleepy voice from the other side and sure enough, soon enough the sound of her steps became too loud and she opened the door “carter, what are y...” “let me just say something okay? then you can shut the door” “it’s 1 AM” “please” “20 seconds” “i’m sorry, y/n. i’m so sorry, i should’ve told you when i left years ago, i shouldn’t have left with serena. i should’ve stayed with you. you always listened to me, you always believed in me and i always let you down. i miss you, i miss having fights with you about star wars plots, speaking with you on the phone at 5 AM, trying to make you laugh when you were upset. i miss seeing your sleepy smile every single morning, i miss you” “carter” “all this time being with her i just kept thinking about doing those things with you. taking you to cotillion, dance with you, be at your graduation and help you move into college, take you to fancy bars and restaurants, buy you flowers and everything else money can afford and i missed out on it, i missed out on it and i cannot give them to you. but here’s what i propose ... i wanna be there when you graduate from college, i wanna be there to help you move into your very first apartment, i want to be there when you start your first job, i wanna be there for you.” “you’re not one to stick around, carter” “let me try, please let me try” “isn’t this your third chance?” “i will ask you for a million chances as long as i get to see you for the rest of my life” 

[rory-for-short]

We are not Our Parents| Part Three

Hauntingly Beautiful

He was wearing the stupid wire. Across from Lucy's complex, Batman and Robin took watch. Tim with his laptop and coffee and Bruce with his eagle eyes and monitoring equipment. They could both hear Dick Graysons nervous shuffling and see him shifting weight from foot to foot. It was obvious from first thing in the morning his son had a date tonight. Dick had been meeting up with her without telling Bruce for the past two and a half weeks. This morning he had betrayed himself of his plans. Bruce could hear him singing "sixteen going on seventeen" in the shower. He had used the syrup on his pancakes to make the shape of a heart. It was obvious he was seeing her again. He had pulled his oldest son aside and explained to him. The classic, 'I'm not stupid, you are wearing the wire tonight no room for debate,' conversation. He could tell Nightwing was unhappy when he agreed to it.

Dick Grayson had brought sunflowers in a bouquet. She had them on her dangly earings when he last saw her. He figured she might like the real thing.

He was starting to feel really weird about this situation. How much did she know? If she knew nothing, this was as scummy as he could get and not even a million showers could get rid of the feeling. If she knew everything. He won't hesitate to do to her what he did to her mugger. It freaked him out. How could he be such a schodingers man? Simultaneously Dick Grayson and Nightwing until he knew the truth.

He knocked on Lucy's door. She was smiling brightly when it swung open. Oh God, she was wearing red lipstick. It looked so good on her, but he couldn't help think about her family who often sported the same color in the same place.

"Aww, yah got me flowers!" She squeeled in an accent identical to her mother's. Oh how obvious that she was a perfect gene splice of the two. Mabey it wasn't his PTSD giving him danger signals all this time. Mabey it was his subconscious.

"I hope you like them, and don't have any allergies or anything-" he started.

"They are absolutely perfect, here let me put them in water. Why don't you take off your shoes and stay awhile," she was floating on air, so graceful and calculated in her movments as she set the flowers in a vase.

He felt a twinge of embarrassment. Her curtains were open. Bruce and his brother had a perfect veiw of everything, plus perfect audio. How stupid must he seem right now for not figuring it out immediately. Her voice, the way she looked, she was so much like Harley. Her graceful steps and body language just like the Joker.

"So," she started towards him tilting her head, "you wanna start back where we left off last time?" She suggested in a low sultry voice, her accent less definable, as she lifted her eyebrows and began pressing herself against him. He could feel Bruce's judgment radiating through the bay window.

"Ahh, actually I wanted to talk to you about something," he explained skirting around her to sit on the couch.

"Yeah what's up?" She questioned. Furrowed brow and a slightly pouty lip. She didn't look like either of them now. Nightwing relaxed under her concerned gaze. He planned how he was going to get information from her. It was super risky. Bruce would be pissed. However, Bruce was on his shit list, so he didn't care.

"It's just that, my dad is hosting a charity event," Dick nervously scratched the back of his head. "I know its kinda early to do something like that we've only been seeing each other for a month or so-" Lucy cut in.

"You want me to go to a Charity event... and meet your family?" She laughed nervously.

"Look, it's fine if its too soon for the 'meeting the parents stuff.' I just never have a date to my dad's insufferable parties and I thought you could bring a little life to it." That was true. Plan aside, he still felt like having someone at one of those awful events could make it fun. He hoped Bruce thought he was just good at manipulating and didn't mean it. But he kinda ment it.

"I've never been to a charity event. It might be more fancy than I'm use to, but I'll donate anyway. Is it like one of those television ones?" She asked intrigued with the idea.

Holy shit. It just now donned on him that she didn't know who he was. Well, she did. She knew his name was Dick Grayson. It must have never occurred to her that her Dick Grayson was the young socialite 'Richard Wayne' as the press knew him. She said on her first date with him that she wanted to eat the rich. She might dump him before he could get any real info out of her. That was a secret relief to him.

"Mmmkay, this is going to be hard to explain. Have you ever heard of Bruce Wayne?"

She gave him a 'no shit Sherlock' kind of look and answered in a monotonous and sarcastic manner that chilled him. In that moment her expression and tone belonged to the Joker.

"Yeah. Bruce Wayne rings a bell or two," she answered.

"Well, have you ever heard of Richard Grayson Wayne?" He probed.

The look on her face. It was the look of Harley being double crossed. Of his dad cornering the Joker. It was that hereditary deer in the head lights look; and just like them, it was gone in a second and replaced with faux confidence.

"Don't tell me I've been bruising up a man worth millions," she joked with an eyebrow quriked. Suddenly, her face went back to pale and fear stricken.

"Oh god," she muttered quietly, "we hafta beak up."

Dick was confused. So was Bruce and Tim who had been listening in this whole time. It wasn't what any of them were expecting.

"Okay," Dick attempted to regain control, "I know you said 'eat the rich and all' but we give to charity and-"

"You are in the public eye. Press are probably all over you, right?" Lucy Reasoned.

Dick nodded. Batman belived he knew where this was going. Press on her = press on her father. Her father's whereabouts wouldn't be safe. She would break up with Dick to protect her family.

"Look I like you. I really, really, like you. So I'm gonna tell you that I'll be nothing but trouble. I'm no good. If they find out you are with me they will drag you and your family's name through the mud!" She warned getting more and more frantic. The adrenaline set in to both parties now.

"You aren't making any sense, what do you mean?" He was baiting of course. He knew exactly what she ment, but he had to hear her say it. She sat down next to him and began nervously scratching her inner forearm. That was an unhealthy grounding technique. Dick learned that in therapy.

"So, you know how your family is well known-" she trailed off. Dick encouraged her by nodding. "Well so is mine. But they are well known for all the wrong reasons. My mom and dad were terrorists. Famous terrorists." She sighed and gathered herself. "I'm sure you've heard of them. Uhg, it's like being related to Hitler or something!" She frustratedly palmed at her hair. Her dad did that alot. He'd get that same crazy look in his eyes doing it too.

"Just tell me what you are getting at please" Grayson earnestly pleaded while taking her hands and removing them from her hair. Her frame relaxed.

"What I'm say'n," she continued, "is I was brought into the world by Gotham's most wanted clown duo. And that if you like not having the world's largest target on your back, we gotta call this thing off." Her eyes were teary and she looked down. Once more. She didn't look like either of her parents. Her face was just Lucy.

Dick, at this point, should have kept pressing. That's interrogation 101. Instead he moved her hair behind her ear and pulled her into a hug. He soothingly held her and petted his hand through her hair.

"Hey, hey, hey, it's okay. We are not our parents. I promise" he shushed while holding her against him.

"I know," she muttered in a monotone and low voice, trying to pull it from all emotion, but he felt the tears on his shirt. He pulled back and held her shoulders. She was deflated with puffy eyes and a tired distant stare.

"Hey, I know you are dealing with alot. You don't have to got to the Charity event if it's too much. But frankly I don't give a damn if they try to drag my name through the mud," Dick swore. Lucy sniffled and gave a soft smile.

"You don't get it.. It's not just the press. My family keeps tabs on me. Arthur escaped Arkam just this month, and Harley sends me cards in the mail. You aren't safe." She gave him a look of pity. Her dad used that look on her mother right before double crossing her. Immediately, Grayson's sheilds were up.

"So they know you are here? You know where they are?" He stammered out.

"I don't know where they are. I mean I have a vague approximation of where mo- Harley is but Arthur is hypervigilint.

That's the second time she used that name. No one knew the Jokers name. Not him, not Bruce, not the FBI. Mabey it was only an allies or sydonyme, but It was the biggest lead to Jokers identity yet.

He figured Bruce was already searching every database at his disposal for any criminal named Arthur.

"Anyway, they find out I'm prancing around town with a billionaire's kid, you are as good as ransom. I can hear them now. 'Why kitten you've been holding out on us. Though you could keep the millions to yourself huh? Dontcha know you gotta pay back your old pals in show biz'" she imitated her father's cadence and did jazz hands when she said 'show biz'. Dick could hear Tim laughing over the ear peice, and a quiet 'I love her' giggled though by him in the receiver. As uncanny as the impression was, he felt a bit of comfort in that moment. She understood something not many people of the world could. Being tormented by the Joker as a child. This really fucked up situation gave them a sort of unbreakable understanding. He laughed a little suddenly before realizing how very inappropriate it was in that situation.

"Sorry," he looked down and cleared his throat, "you just caught me off gaurd there."

Lucy snorted, "It's fine. I guess luck would so have it that I developed a wicked sense of humor," she smiled rolling her eyes." She then hesitated before continuing, "I'll think about going to the Charity thing... as long as I can lay low, unless you changed your-"

"No! Of course you can come! Oh you are gonna hate my family they are insufferable sometimes!"Dick exclaimed grinning ear to ear. He could hear Tim protesting from the ear peice. He didn't care. He hugged Lucy and turned off the sound. When Lucy got ready for bed, he spoke into the wire "Hey I'm clocking out for the night. Don't wait up," he whispered into it before disconnecting it and leaving the two on the roof with radio silence.

[duckbeater]

Courtship, pt. 2

Writing about happiness is very difficult and boring. The below are some small attempts I’ve made to write through my happiness. My small, important readership deserves an update, says my brother, whose sensibilities have only rarely steered me catastrophically wrong.

I AM BUYING CHAMPAGNE TO CELEBRATE MY LOVER

Today’s the last day of his job and he’s throwing himself a little party. In September he begins med school and in the next month he’ll put his affairs in order, readying for the big move. I have the sense that tonight begins our diminuendo, despite his staying over last night and spit-fucking me, and I’ll surely stay over tonight, after the many champagne toasts to his prosperous life ahead. 

We’ve started sleeping as two spoons embracing chest to chest, with our faces tucked awkwardly in a neck or an armpit. Of course I wake up gasping, my mouth sucking after a less hot pocket of air, and turn, and enjoy that he pulls me tightly back to him. He’s a heavy sleeper and I’m a light sleeper, and our bedding situation resembles something like a rock in a tumbler with my rolling over and over and over again, arising too early, wildly underslept, shining with sweat, but ecstatic that we’ve touched all night long. I’m attending his celebration in a sleep deficit that I’ve covered with caffeine and a long, soulful run beside the lake. I’ve been thinking about us a lot. 

He wouldn’t call himself my lover, I think, but I’m hoping the expensiveness of the champagne I’m bringing will convince friends in attendance that that’s what we are. I’m hoping my largesse goes noticed and commented on—that it’s interpreted as my being in love with him, and that his peers compel him, by either fretting over my largesse, or pitying me for it, or anyway finding it impressive or amusing or tender or charming—that they tell this young man I’m adoring him and I’m adoring him well. That my adoration seems steadfast and considered. And despite the riskiness of the circumstances (our differences in age, the widening gulf in distance, a sometimes depleting lack of shared cultural references), when we are together I feel comfort and joy. This must be obvious to him without the expensive champagne. I’m always saying it out loud, or anyway variants on the theme of “comfort and joy,” like a seasonal blessing, a profusion of blessings, needing remarked upon. I’m seriously afraid I mother him.

“Let us take in the scene,” I have said before, “let us only observe for the moment my sitting in your lap, your hands on my neck, my constant kisses. What joy!”

He’s done something to my sense of my proportion, and also my prose style. I can’t seem to describe our relationship without slipping into the sardonic, recursive, mildly-institutionalized voice of Robert Walser, a writer I find too cute by half. I’m finding my life too cute by half, I fear. If this is what happiness feels like, I don’t really want much more of it. It’s making me stupid. “People will think that pain has made you stupid,” wrote Walser, a statement that comes back to me when I can’t distinguish between the good times and bad times making me an idiot.

AFTER THE SPIT-FUCKING

We stayed up late talking about what it means to say goodbye to people who don’t know you’ve cared for them. I don’t pretend this conversation had subtext. For the last two years, he’s worked with profoundly disabled people, first as a case worker and then, after the pandemic closed the campus and made that job “nonessential,” as a nursing assistant on the same floor. 

He spent months feeding, changing, bathing and bedding non-ambulatory children and adults. Most cannot speak, a few cannot see, and none can walk, of course. It is a world I’ve rarely thought about—indeed, a world many of us rarely consider, because in its theater of human need are scenes of unremitting hopelessness. It is a languageless suffering and it perdures. I can become very mystified, very shallow-breathed thinking about his care for these souls, however quick he’s been to dissuade me from romanticizing or elevating his ministrations. “One of my verbal residents tells me to fuck myself all the time,” he’s noted. Still, I would point out that birth defects and accidents account for a small percentage of his caseloads’ impairments, and that active neglect and abuse perpetrated intentionally by former guardians (or unwittingly by the American healthcare complex) have hobbled his charges for life. I don’t like hearing stories about choked babies and toddlers left so long in beds their soft bones grow slab-wise, so I’ve asked him, coward that I am, to please skip origins if he’s entering an otherwise benign workaday anecdote.  

His most patient complaint: using his iPhone to FaceTime parents who want to see their son, then listening to one-sided conversations, burbling, giggles, tears, even story-time. His campus closed to all guardians—a devastating precaution. “Don’t send anything xrated today,” he’d text, and I’d know he was hosting a reunion. So I’d keep my clothes on. And he’d answer the phone from an immediately weeping seventy-year-old mother saying, to her forty-year-old son, “Why good evening, Max, good evening. This is your mother. Hi, baby. Hi. I love you. I am your mother. I will always be your mother. I am sorry I cannot touch you, I cannot hold you, I cannot be with you in this time, but you are my Max, and I am your mother. And I love you always. You can hear me and I’m gonna tell you all about my week, okay? And then I’m gonna ask Scotty here how you’ve spent your week, okay?” He said he usually cries on these calls and when I asked why, he said, “Because it seems polite?” And I pressed harder and he said, “Because I get to—I get to connect these people who have missed each other so much, and it’s so sad. They haven’t touched in months. They might not touch this year. My phone sometimes runs out of battery. It’s so weird.”

I’ve asked him whether families are happy to be rid of their incredible dependents and he said that by and large families are miserable to give over members to the institution: that age arbitrates the giving. “A mother and father have a baby at twenty-five. They can care for him well into their fifties—their twenty-five-year-old, their thirty-year-old son. But when these parents enter their sixties? Their seventies? They can’t lift an adult male. They can’t bathe him or change him. Even basic nutrition gets hard. Meal prep is tiring. It’s long. They start to lose track of medications, and they have medications themselves, you know? So the situation gets very difficult and if they want to live, and if they want him to live, they feel like they have to give him up.”

We’re at the point now where intimacy is a given. He doesn’t swallow, but brings me to orgasm, taking me in his mouth and then dribbles it, I guess, my cum, back onto my stomach, apologizing with a flushed red smirk. “I hate that,” he says, “I really hate it.”

“Go ahead, eat it,” I say, joking.

He gives me dark eyes and showily palms the wad into the black pillowcase behind my head.

“Holy Christ!” I yell. “The nerve! The pluck! The audacity!”

There must be a phase in relationships when extracting intimacies—not only of the “terrible things I did in high school”-vein, or the “times I cheated”-vein, or the “unwittingly right wing ideologies I support”-vein—that close couples endeavor. Where you’re always compulsively revelatory, to seem as interesting as you did in early courtship, as erotically forward and emotionally captivating. We’re in that moment and we surprise one another with small tributes as befits that level of affection.

One of the intimacies I proffered is that I’m going through a religious re-awakening, a need for ritual and sacraments. He finds this funny. (I find it embarrassing.) Yet one of his duties has been wheeling charges to his building’s Tuesday Mass, and then helping to administer the Eucharist. I don’t think he in fact touches the host (I don’t think many in his care can safely take of the host; “I’m mostly there in case anyone seizes,” he said), but he did slip a large wafer away for me and now it’s in my apartment, among my candles, possibly growing mold. He asks me when I’m going to eat it and I tell him around Christmas. 

(That was a lie. I’ll eat it when our romance is over, to consecrate the time we had.)

“I eat it,” I say, and he glowers.

I TOLD HIM ABOUT A MYSTERY SURROUNDING MY FAVORITE AUTHOR

Norman Rush. For a decade and better I’ve wondered about the long dedication in Mating, whose last lines read, “...and to the memory of my father, and to my lost child, Liza.” The novel, set in Botswana and borrowing heavily from Rush’s time there as director in the Peace Corps, suggests that perhaps Liza died in Africa or was born still. She goes unmentioned in his Paris Review interview, in subsequent novels, short stories, and reviews. There’s no hint of Liza’s fate. (As I edit this, I recall a phrase in Mortals, the narrator’s idea that “children exposed you to hellmouth, which was the opening of the mouth of hell right in front of you.” Explaining further: “[I]t was the grandmother, the daughter, the granddaughter tumbling through the air, blown out of the airplane by a bomb, the three generations falling and seeing one another fall, down, down, onto the Argolid mountains. With children you created more thin places in the world for hellmouth to break through.” And then, in Subtle Bodies, Rush describes a wayward teen boy, whose angry and aggressive behavior corresponds exactly to Rush’s own troubled teen son. In fact, Subtle Bodies is about the decision to have children at all. Nina follows Ned to a funeral, to fuck him. So, Rush has indeed remarked on children and strife, as he has lived it. Anyhow—) Yet by accident I listened to an old Fresh Air interview where Rush is asked to comment on the aspect of family in his novels, and to clarify that inscription. 

“I have a daughter who is now thirty,” he says, “who was born with diffuse brain atrophy and has been institutionalized for many years. Um. But I think the rest is pretty self-explanatory.”

“What was her condition?” presses his interlocutor.

“She is uh profoundly retarded,” pauses, “and will be so.”

“So you feel she is lost to you?”

“Yes. There is no recognition possible between her and us.”

I reproduced this exchange from notes on my phone. Scotty replied, “I don’t think that’s right, actually. Maybe between her and—who—who was it?”

“Norman Rush and his daughter Liza.”

He said, “Maybe between Liza and her dad—yeah, maybe she was so disabled she couldn’t recognize him. I take care of men like that. But I recognize them.”

We were talking about important books at all (I mean that semi-seriously) because his co-worker had gifted him three works, including a volume of Yeats’ complete poetry.

“Why did Paco give you Yeats?” I asked.

“He thinks I need more poetry,” said Scotty.

(Frankly I have felt and still feel sexual jealousy against Paco, who recently got brilliant red and black knee tattoos of spider webs. Like, Spider-Man spiderwebs, covering both kneecaps. Every few weeks he cooks a large meal for Scotty, and they talk about life until 4 A.M. drunk on bourbon, immobilized by edibles, full and warm and caring, and it makes me mad. It makes me mad, because I can’t really see the point of staying up until the uncomfortable small hours between 2 and 5 unless there is sex involved, but Paco is straight, a father, an excellent chef, a dedicated friend, and so my grousing is a kind of unwarranted possession that baffles me into silence on the matter.)

I didn’t have anything intelligent left to say about Norman Rush. I groped along a narrow thought, however, a thin ledge. “You know—a novelist, especially a novelist as concerned with language and comprehension as Norman Rush, would feel particularly devastated by the condition of his daughter. He would see it as ironic and then as punitive and again as senseless—supporting his comforting regime of a militant atheism.”

Although very sober, I recited the first stanza of The Second Coming, tripping over two lines (but the best lines), saying, “The worst lack all conviction, while the best/Are full of passionate intensity.”

“What?” said Scotty.

“I just—that was Yeats.”

“Who?”

“Go ahead and tell your boy Paco that your hot fuck gave you a teach on William. Butler. Yeats.”

“What?” said Scotty. He grinned at me. He got up and ate a yogurt.

[ofwizardsandmen]

CHRISTMAS SERIES 

Keyword being ‘supposed’

This is definitely not how Enzo Saint-Pierre was supposed to spend Christmas Eve.

Characters: Enzo Saint-Pierre, Minah Delacroix, Tara Lee, Mark Yang. Mentions of other minor characters.

Word count: 3,6k

“I can’t believe them” Enzo Saint-Pierre huffed as he flopped on the pink velvet sofa, arms falling limp at his sides and his phone slipping from his hand before falling over a cushion.

Across the room, Enzo’s business partner and close friend, Minah Delacroix, stopped wrapping her brother’s Christmas gift for a short moment and took notice of his sour expression and the way his eyes glared at the device with resentment.

It was the day before Christmas and the friends had been chatting about pointless topics for nearly two hours now. Although the company’s premises had been closed for a few days now,  Enzo had forgotten some important documents in his security box and just happened to come across his business partner hiding in her office wrapping gifts and writing cards. For the past weeks, It had been difficult to even see Minah because apparently she was juggling all her duties as a Delacroix, attending parties, planning her own Christmas festivities and buying gifts for her endless list of family members, friends, and business network. Of course, Sienna, her ever-efficient assistant, had been really helpful —Enzo had already received a beautiful set of gold cufflinks with his family crest coat of arms carved by goblins, earlier that day, for example—, but Minah still had some last-minute tasks to fulfill, which explained why they had been chitchatting as she went on with the ever boring task of dictating Christmas messages to her Quick Quotes Quill and wrapping Christmas gifts in an old fashioned way.

Only a few minutes ago laughter filled the room. The friends had been talking about their holiday plans until a call interrupted Enzo from pocking fun at Minah’s choice of words to describe what she would be wearing that night for her one on one Christmas celebrations.

“What happened?” MInah asked. She knew Enzo was never the type to react negatively, choosing to remain blissfully —and even annoyingly— positive even at critical times (a behavior that had almost caused her to attempt murder several times the past year), so his expression made her raise one of her perfect brows. Minah carefully placed Suho’s state of the art quidditch glasses on the table (one of her husband’s most recent tech inventions) and leaned back on the chair.

“Nothing” Enzo deadpanned, but the scowl on his forehead told otherwise.

“Oh, come on, Enzo. The only time I saw you frown like this was when we were invited to the Olivier’s fashion show” Minah walked across the office and took the empty spot beside her friend, sitting cross-legged.  “And even then you looked slightly entertained”

“Would you blame me? Maude poured champagne on her hideous white dress. It was hilarious” Enzo smirked playfully at the memory. It never failed to amuse him.

“Then, what’s wrong? Minah insisted, her voice too sweet for Enzo not to detect concern filtering through her tone.

“Just my ever enchanting family,” The man said with a sigh “Cancelling dinner plans at the very last minute because their businesses are more important… businesses being a euphemism for affairs.”

It had never been a secret for Minah that Enzo’s parents’ only kept their marriage to protect their individual interests. Minah and Enzo had bumped with his dad lounging on yachts in the Mediterranean, with entourages of women younger than herself, during their business trips to the south of France and Italy. His mother, on the other hand, had been having an affair with a magizoology researcher for some years now and she never missed the opportunity to run away with him to some exotic place. Of course, Enzo never told her that, Minah had found out everything about it through her uncle, Jerome, who granted was not one to spread gossip but had accidentally spilled the beans when they crossed paths with Madame Huang at a gala from the International Dragon Foundation.  

“What?” Minah gaped at that. Enzo had been talking about his plans with his parents for nearly a month and he seemed quite excited about it given the fact he didn’t get to spend time with them very often. It had made Minah question how lonely and in need of love Enzo seemed to be, but she hadn’t said anything about it. Instead, she had witnessed him planing every detail for their Christmas dinner with minute attention. He had bought handmade Italian glasses and hired the executive chef of the trendiest restaurant in London for the occasion. Hell, he had even got her aunt Adelaine to design him a suit although she was as busy as a bee. “I’m so sorry about it. I know you were looking forward to spending time with your parents”

“Nah. It’s ok. It was too good to be true” He attempted to laugh it off, but Minah knew that for some odd reason, Enzo still held some type of respect and affection for his parents. She was still unable to understand his fixation on spending time with them, but she figured out that the situation was far from being “ok”.

“No, it is not. They should’ve canceled before so you could make some arrangements and plan something else” She said scowling and slightly raising her voice.

“I will be fine, Minah. I am going to crash any of the parties I was invited to or drop by to visit some friends” He said, putting emphasis on the last word and winking at Minah afterward.

“No, that doesn’t sound right” Minah protested “Why don’t you come and stay with me and Sungjae. We didn’t really plan anything special” Only once she had already made the offer, Minah realized the mistake she had committed by inviting someone to spend Christmas Eve with her and her husband, without even asking Sungjae first.

“I had no idea you were into threesomes, Min” Enzo joked, eyes flickering in pretended surprise.

Minah slapped his arm playfully. “Don’t be ridiculous! Haven’t you told me  he third party is always supposed to be a stranger?”

They both laughed at that, but Enzo became serious once again, moving on the sofa to look at Minah in the eyes.

“I really appreciate your offer, but I am pretty sure Sungjae won’t be exactly thrilled to have me there,” He said seriously.

“Oh no, Sungjae is in his Christmas mood, I’m sure he really wouldn’t mind” That last part was a blatant lie, Minah could only imagine Sungjae’s reaction and it was far from what she had described, but Enzo didn’t need to know that.

“Ha. As if” Enzo rolled eyes. “Minah, you’re newlyweds. I seriously appreciate your concern, but I’m not going to feel any better if I have to spend Christmas Eve at your place, knowing that you would very much rather be fucking with your husband than hosting unwanted guests.”

“Wow, what a charmer” Minah replied with a trace of sarcasm. She couldn’t deny that Enzo was completely right, but she was still convinced that she needed to insist. “But Enzo… Christmas has always been about unannounced guests. From day one, that is the whole purpose of the holiday. I mean, take the Wise Men, they just called in unannounced.”

“They brought gold, Minah, of course, Mary and Joseph didn’t mind” Enzo switched his position on the sofa scoffing.

“But still-“ Minah started, but her speech was interrupted before she could say another word.

“All I’m saying is you don’t have to give up Christmas sex only because of me” Enzo stated with a grin, causing Minah to huff “No, but seriously. I’m going to be perfectly fine, Min. I always have a plan B.” The male moved to pat Minah’s hand brotherly “Thanks for caring so much though.”

“Just wanted to give you a Christmas gift” Minah said, a pout forming slightly.

“You already got me these” Enzo said pointing at his wrists, showing off the cufflinks Sienna had delivered to his apartment that morning “Plus, you know I’m not expecting any Christmas miracle or present, Minnie. I’ve been a bad boy all year long” Enzo shrugged, winking for an added effect. “We all know I’d never make it to Santa’s nice list.

________

When Enzo showed up at Tara’s porch, she could barely hide the disappointed look on her face. Although she knew very well that Mark couldn’t make it home for Christmas this year, for some stupid reason she had been expecting it to be him. But then again, why would Mark even ring the bell of their own home? Tara thought to herself that the unreasonable hope she had been harboring inside was clouding her judgment and she felt like facepalming herself.

“You could at least pretend to be happy to see me” Cladded in the most Christmas cliched outfit Tara had ever seen him wear, Enzo smiled widely at her. He didn’t seem the least bit offended by Tara’s reaction, which made her feel even worse and instinctively step to the side for him to walk in.  

“I’m sorry, dear.” Tara tiptoed to kiss Enzo’s cheek and give him a quick hug “You just caught me off guard. I thought you were supposed to be home with your parents.”

“Keyword being ‘supposed’” Enzo said, handing Tara what seemed to be a present, wrapped in a silly paper with red-nosed female reindeers wearing hot-pink bows. “As per usual they canceled on me, so I supposed my best friend could use some company” He made a pause to take a brief look around “…Not to mention I could bestow some much needed Christmas spirit in this house.” He added once he realized the house was almost empty, which of course was to be expected given the fact Tara had just moved in there a few weeks ago. Yet, there was something truly depressing about it all. There was no tree, no decorations. Not the least sign of the joyful season.

“Oh, yeah. I wasn’t planning anything special, I was expecting tonight to be just me and the Ghost of Christmas Past” Tara joked, noticing the pitiful look on Enzo’s face.

“I thought Mark would be here, that’s why I dressed down” he attempted to mask the question with a ridiculous joke, but Tara’s expression fell anyhow.

“He’s just busy. Apparently, a group is not enough work, so his company planned this whole “supergroup” project and if I haven’t lost track of the date, he must be stuck somewhere between Dallas and Miami right now” Tara forced a smile  “But it’s ok.”  She took a deep breath that suggested she wasn’t particularly ok. She then went on “I know how important his career is and how hard he’s worked for it, so I’m fine”

“I can’t believe you didn’t think of telling me about it, T. I seriously thought Mark was coming home tonight. If I had known-“

“If you had known, you would’ve tried o drag me to some crazy orgy in Las Vegas or Rome and I don’t know about you, but that’s not exactly what my Christmas spirit dictates me to do,” Tara said with an insincere laugh that made her best friend frown. “Ok, no, it’s just that you seemed so excited to spend time with your parents, I didn’t want to ruin it with my whining.”

“I’m almost offended you think that way, T.” Enzo clicked his tongue reprovingly before sneaking an arm around Tara’s shoulders. “You should’ve told me and we could’ve figured out an escapade to wherever Mark is and surprise him.” Enzo’s eyes lit up as though an idea had suddenly crossed his mind. “In fact, I think we’re still on time for that. Let’s go see Mark, we can Apparate and scare him off. Or we could scare the CEO of his company-“

“We are not going to Apparate in another continent just for Mark to spend his night performing for thousand of crazy women who fantasize about him-“ Tara stopped mid-sentence when she realized the bitterness in her words. “I-“ she let out a sigh, letting realization kick in.

“Wow” Enzo let out a deep breath before going on. “I had no idea you felt that way.”

“Neither did I” Tara admitted, looking down at her shoes as though she were looking at them for the very first time. “I just-“

“You’re just a human, T. You would like to have Mark all for yourself sometimes, wouldn’t you?”  Enzo placed both of his hands on each side of Tara’s arms, making her look up.  She hesitated for a second, but then she nodded “And it’s understandable.”

“I would never change the fact Mark is who he is, but sometimes…” Tara trailed off.

“Sometimes you should just let him know the way you feel” Enzo replied simply.

________

Four hours later and after bending several wizarding laws and abusing of their personal connections at the Ministry of Magic, Enzo and Tara dodge a group of overly excited teenagers in Perry Street. As per usual, the street is busy and decorated in a close simulation of a cheerful winter wonderland. There are several muggle tourists taking pictures outside the iconic Carrie Bradshaw’s Apartment, but there’s also a growing crowd of young females in the intersection with the 10th. Tara feels her heart pound violently against his chest and Enzo seems to hear it as well judging by the supportive way he laces his fingers with hers.

“Everybody is gonna be ecstatic to see you” Enzo says vehemently, pulling Tara to give her a one-armed hug

But it seems that Enzo is mistaken when Taeyong, Johnny, and Doyoung open the door of the 79th 10th street, looking nothing less than confused.

“What are you even doing here?” Doyoung scowls in puzzlement and asks, looking at Tara as though her presence as equally unexpected as it was unwelcomed.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in London?” Yuta joins the other three, panic evident in his voice.

“Keyword being ‘supposed’,” Tara swallows as she stares at the group with a frown.

“Oh God, what’s wrong with everybody today?” Enzo’s upper lip curls up in disgust “Can’t you at least pretend you’re somewhat happy to see us?”

“Is this about to take an unexpected plot twist that shifts this happy Christmas reunion from romance to horror, because I would appreciate it if you just told me if Mark is cheating on me with someone behind that door instead of giving me all these grievous looks”

“Gosh, no, this is definitely not about that” Johnny steps forward, his tall frame towering over Tara. “We’re very happy to see you, but-” He claims vehemently as he offers her a reassuring smile that doesn’t quite accomplish its purpose.

“It’s just that…” Taeyong manages to interrupt “Mark is not here”

“What?”

“He left at dawn” Yuta explains “He wanted to surprise you, but apparently missed the obvious fact you’d want to do exactly the same.”

Before the news can actually down on them, Enzo turns to Tara with rounded eyes and an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry… this was a terrible-”

“It’s ok. We can still make it back to London on time” Tara says, biting the inside of her cheek.

The suggestion makes Taeyong raise a brow skeptically, but Doyoung doesn’t even bother hiding his exasperation.

“Sorry to break it up to you but the flight to London will take you at least 11 hours” he points out, eyes rolling almost involuntarily.

“Not to mention you won’t possibly be able to book a ticket on Christmas Eve” Someone else objects, peeking through the open door.

“Oh, no, Don’t worry, we have connections” Enzo laughs, brushing the comments off with his signature overconfidence “it’ll take us 3 hours tops”

___________

The 14 hours it took Mark Yang to land in London are probably the most anxiety-inducing hours in his life. Considering he gets to spend most of his time on planes with the bunch of dorks his group mates are, that’s saying a lot. But the flight delay, the terrible weather conditions and the overly sensitive travelers trying to make it home for Christmas are the perfect recipe for disaster.

To complete the already disastrous scenario, Mark’s phone decided Christmas Eve was the perfect time of the year to act up and die on him, so by the time he made it out of the airport, he had to gather all his self-control not to snap at an elderly couple who stole the cab he had hailed. And when he finally managed to get in a taxi and everything seemed like it could finally work, the traffic jam and questionable driving style of the driver —who seemed to be lacking in festive spirit and cussed at everybody who tried to get past them— delayed his arrival two additional hours.

When Mark steps into his 19th-century residence in Kensington, where Tara and he had moved in after their engagement, he’s surprised to recognize he still finds the place oddly unfamiliar. It probably is the little time he has spent in it or the heavy Christmas decorations adorning pretty much every inch of surface, but he can’t help but feel an immense amount of guilt. This was supposed to be his and Tara’s first Christmas together after getting engaged and he truly wanted it to be special, but in between his group and solo promotions, multiple interviews and upcoming projects, he had been less than a stellar fiancé.

It’s snowing outside and it’s so cold his teeth start chattering as he makes his way in, the nostalgic scent of pine and sandalwood mingled with that of gingerbread filling his nostrils.  Tara has never been particularly into Christmas so the fact everything looks so pristine and festive makes Mark wonder how lonely she had been feeling. Feeling guilt shot through his body once again, Mark’s first instinct is to rush to their room upstairs, but when he slams the door open hoping to wake up Tara, he finds out an empty bed. Sure, Tara had made sure new bed linens graced their bed and to place a bottle of champagne on the side table, but there are no traces of Tara.

Mark tours the house simultaneously looking for his fiancée and discovering how big it is, he finds freshly baked gingerbread cookies in the kitchen and watermelon cut in the perfect shape of stars and his heart clenches painfully. He wishes he could’ve prepared something for Tara other than a lame necklace from Tiffany’s.

The man finally walks into their living room and stops in his tracks as he notices two figures curled up on the burgundy couch. It takes Mark a few seconds to recognize the chiseled features of Enzo Saint Pierre, but what he notices right away is the way his arms are firmly wrapped around Tara and her head resting on his shoulder. Mark stands there not knowing what to do next. He could wake them up, but Tara looks like an angel when she’s sleeping, her chest rising and falling with deep, even breaths. And even if Enzo can be annoying sometimes, he is pretty sure there’s some reasonable explanation as to why he is sleeping in his home on Christmas Eve.

Mark is about to turn around to find a cover for them when Tara faintly calls his name.

“You’re home” she says groggily, eyes half-open

“T…” Mark mutters, not sure of what to say.

“Am I dreaming?” Tara asks and Mark laughs at that.

“No, I’m home,” he says walking up to her.

“We were waiting for you” Tara whispers. She doesn’t move and her voice is barely audible over the sound of logs blazing the fireplace.

“Doesn’t look like it” Mark jokes, taking the empty spot beside Tara and resting his head against the back of the sofa.

“Don’t be silly Mark Yang,” Enzo speaks, eyes still closed. “We’re just tired after a six-hour round up to New York City, so if you appreciate your life, you better let us sleep.” Enzo moves bit tightening his hold on Tara and resting his chin on her shoulder.

“You did what…?” Mark asks in disbelief. But what sounded like a truly obnoxious lie from Enzo ends up being confirmed by a nod of Tara’s head.

“Enzo thought it’d be a good idea to surprise you, but when we got there the guys told us you were on your way here” Tara chuckles a bit although the actual experience was not as nearly as amusing as the memory is “Poor Taeyong, I’ve never seen him panic so badly, he was pale when he saw us.”

The three of them burst into laughter, but silence follows afterward. Enzo falls back to sleep, Tara drowsily reaches for her fiancé’s hand and Mark looks completely lost in his own wold. And it can’t be otherwise. Even in the simplest of the situations, it appears to Mark that Tara’s existence is the manifestation of every beautiful thing he’s ever witnessed in life and no words would ever be enough for him to describe the wholesome feeling he gets just by staring at her.

“I’m sorry,” He finally breaks the silence, after minutes of looking at her wordlessly. “I’m sorry I made you wait so long” he adds as he pulls her hand to his lips and plants a kiss on her knuckles.

Tara hums something incompressible and then untangles herself from Enzo, moving to straddle Mark and giving him a passionate kiss that takes him completely off guard, but he responds to with the same fervor. He holds her waist, pulling her closer to him and preventing her from moving. It seems like a lifetime since he last kissed her, so he doesn’t let go off her easily.

When they pull away minutes later, gasping for air, they look at each other amused.

Tara holds her boyfriend’s face with both hands and giggles happily. “Merry Christmas, Mark”

“Merry Christmas, my love” Mark is about to dive in for another kiss when Enzo lets out a groan.

“This is not how I was supposed to spend Christmas Eve, you two” he complains throwing a cushion at them.

“Keyword being supposed” Tara repeats once again, before pulling Mark in for yet another kiss.

It is definitely not how Enzo Saint Pierre was supposed to spend Christmas Eve.

***

[benevolentgodloki]

@shellheadtm continued from here

He’s had FRIDAY put the call through to his shop after she’s identified Loki’s vocal print (because you can’t fake that) out of curiosity, just because he wants to hear whatever Loki has to say.  He hasn’t had intentions of acknowledging he’s listening - God, no, that’s inviting trouble in, and he’s got enough of it - but more…To be better prepared the next time that little shit has the audacity to turn up on his doorstep like that whole mess with the Final Host hasn’t been his fault, no matter what he’s had to say about it bringing the Avengers back together.  He’s still not over it.

In the scheme of things, it hasn’t been that big of a deal, really, Loki’d been here…Fifteen minutes?  Tops?  Enough to rattle off some story about himself and Thor and Thor sending him to Tony because he wants to be an Avenger (there’s a laugh) and…Well.  He’d listened, though God only knows why, but he hasn’t really thought about it since.  Why would he?  There’s no way Loki - the Loki they’ve known and gotten burned by for years - is ever going to walk in here carrying Mjolnir.  It is doing the improbable.  That’s exactly why he’d said it.

And…Well.  Now he just kind of feels like an asshole.

He knows how Odin is, of course he does.  Odin’s been as much of a renowned shithead to Midgard as he has anyway else, right?  He’s dragged the Avengers into his war bullshit more times than he’s had any right to, between the War of the Serpent, and now the War of the Realms, as it’s starting to be called.  But flinging that suit in Tony’s face…What were they supposed to do?  Thor had been missing, Loki was presumed dead and by dead Tony means he’d literally, with his own two eyes, had seen Loki get eaten, they’d been put up to all of it and Malekith was-

“Yeah, let me stop the pity party right there, chief.”  He’s going to regret doing this.  He can feel it.  He can absolutely feel it.  He carefully, calmly, puts the socket wrench he’s been using - he’s almost done with the car prototype - down on one of his work tables and stands - not that it matters, Loki’s on the phone, he can’t see him.  But it feels better to be on his feet for this regardless.  On his feet and surrounded by his armor.  “Remember how we had that little chat about you being our biggest arch-pain in the ass over the years?  Do I…Do I need to start listing the ways?  Do you want it alphabetically or chronologically?  Listen.”

He can’t believe he’s even bothering to do this.  He can’t believe he even feels the need to justify himself to Loki, of all people.  “You were dead.  We thought.  Thor was gone.  We were losing.  Your other, even more renowned shithead of a dad was fucking us sideways.  Malekith had Venom. Venom.”  He stretches that one name into three syllables.  God, that could have ended so, so badly.  He’s had his own brushes with halitosis death by symbiote before, he can only imagine what one would have done under the control of a batshit crazy dark elf.

“I got told build a suit.  So I built a suit.  And, hey?  Unless you’re planning on giving T’Challa’s little sis a ring a ding, pal, don’t crawl my ass about it, because it wasn’t like it was just me.”  Yeah, okay, he hadn’t been keen on the idea of Odin and one of his suits.  What about it.  He and Odin have personally swung on each other more times than any mortal probably ever has, and lived to tell the tale about it.  It’s not something he’s proud of, not really, because he knows Odin can hold a grudge.  “Being an Avenger’s not a game, Loki, it’s not something you do when you’re bored.  Or when you’re feeling some kind of way like however it is…You’re…It’s a commitment.  You don’t get to pick and choose when you answer the call.  So yeah, improbable, because the day you come in carrying that hammer is the day I know we can trust you.”

It’s an anger that’s been simmering since before he looked into Laufey’s face on the day of his latest death; since before he used the Infinity Stones to see his future; back before he forced his ego death and opened up the possibility of another fate; long, long ago before this universe and the last. Forever that childish screaming despair, that howl of it’s not fair. The chants that plague him, that drove his alternate future to devilry: You will never be worthy. That path is not for you. You will never be trusted. Liar, trickster, coward, evil. It tastes of magpie blood and snake’s venom and mistletoe.

And he has to let it go. No matter how much his nature leans toward taking a wrong step. Loki can feel himself wanting to break this stupid phone, as if it would somehow wring Stark’s neck for speaking the unpleasant truth. Because it doesn’t matter how Loki feels as though he’s different each time he dies and returns. He’s still that Loki, and every Loki before that. They’re all him, and he has to live with it. He can’t expect anyone to understand that he’s also not any of those Lokis at all. It wouldn’t be hard to explain. There’s enough references to Time Lord regenerations he could slip in. It’s just not the point.

He lies down on the Central Park bench he’s commandeered and stares up at the sky, letting the environment soothe his mood while he talks.

“You know, I get it, Stark. It’s a big ask. I’m shooting far too high. My reputation for keeping to a team has always been flaky at minimum. I have always made it clear in a confusingly nasty sort of way that I’m out for my own interests and it’s only been recently those happen to have aligned with what you would consider ‘the side of good’. I’m not going to pretend that’s what I am, but what I’ve come to realise is that the things I want, the Loki I want to be -.” The Loki the universe seems to want me to be. “That Loki does things right. Oh, he’s still selfish, but so what? Me and everyone else in the universe. Doing the right thing, as ugly as that tastes in its cliché form, benefits everyone and mostly me. It’s never felt that way for me before. I never stuck with it long enough. I don’t want to take that easy, self-destructive path anymore, Tony. That’s what’s boring.”

He sighs and rubs his face, amazed he’s managed to keep the man on the line throughout all this.

“Look, I - I know I can’t just be an Avenger. I just want to start somewhere. Let me do something. Hel, make me a [Asgardian expletive] coffee boy for all I care. Let me try?”

[clownsgobeepbeep]

❛❛ He/she escaped. ❜❜

This was originally going to be one whole thing but I realized how long I made it, so I’ll write another of the sections later uwu

@grotesquegabby Because some of yours are kinda here 

After the first encounter with Maggie, Coraline had surprisingly just learned of a mob member known as Billy Blueblood, who she had come near some other previous night. Her brothers had initially mentioned the name after a meeting with another mob, the Blackwoods, and so her curiosity lead her to attend a party held by Blueblood himself. 

The woman had dressed her best with the help of her children who always knew just what to suggest. Her eyes looked out the car being driven by Abraham, noticing the luxurious home Blueblood resided in which made her slightly turn her nose. Far too extravagant for her, but that was perhaps a tad bit hypocritical…

“Ready for this?” Abraham asked as he near the drop off location, Coraline turning to him with her usual, plain expression.

“The question is, are they ready for me?” she replied in a whisper, making Abraham chuckle to himself before stopping the car. “I’ll see you in a bit Abe.”

“See ya.” the man nodded as a butler helped Coraline out, nobody ever realizing that while she walked to the front entrance, that a pair of green eyes watched her figure gracefully walking by.

_____________

“Mother.Fucker. Mother effing fucker! This is why mom doesn’t love you!”

“Ey, ey, ey! Mom loves me very much, probably even more than she loves you asshole!”

“At least she loves me for who I am and not out of pity for your stupid brains!” Stellar yelled at his brother, taking hold of the steering wheel next to him as Roger now stood up and crawled to the back of their car, or a car they “borrowed” at least. “What the fuck are you doing now!?”

“Just shut up and drive, momma’s boy!” Roger shouted at him as he made sure not to fall from the moving convertible vehicle, reaching down to grab a gun that he soon shot. “These fuckers ain’t slowing down!”

“Well what the fuck do you expect after that stunt you pulled, dipshit!?” Stellar barked at the back while driving the car even faster than before, eventually making a turn where there was an alley. 

“I think we lost them.”

“I think I lost them.”Stellar silently yelled at his brother as they attempted to keep quiet so that their location wasn’t exposed. “Come one, let’s get out of here.”

“I think Coral’s gonna kill us if we get killed.”

“She’ll kill us if we ruin these suits.”Stellar rolled his eyes before putting his sunglasses on, taking hold of his weapon after he and Roger hopped out of the car. “Hell, she’s gonna give it to us once she finds out the spy escaped.”

“We can just get a look alike, no?”

“That is one of the stupidest ideas of yours that I’ve ever heard, and I’ve heard very many stupid things come o-”

“Stellar! He’s right there!” Roger interrupted his brother with a gunshot, Stellar whipping his head around to see that their missing spy was indeed in sight, and now making a quick run for it. 

“Then go after him!” Stellar motioned before Roger rolled his eyes, running after the escapee before Stellar decided to go after him through a different alleyway. He cursed under his breath as he ran through some small puddles that managed to wet his shoots and his pant legs, but he ignored it and turned a corner where he heard some more running. Once again, he ran down the alley but slowed to a stop, holding his gun up before turning the corner, pointing his gun as another was pointed at him.

“D’Vitt?”

“Blackwood?” Stellar furrowed his eyebrows, barely lowering his gun while Vespers actually did so, not finding much of a threat. 

“Well, good evening, Stellar.”Vespers sighed as he looked over the man. “Whatever did happen to your suit man?”

“Doesn’t matter. What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?”

“I asked first Blackwood.”

“That is true.”Vespers slightly nodded while looking around. “There was a hit on one of my men and I had to come down to do some…research. Now, how about you?”

“You found him!” a voice interrupted, making the men turn to the side as they pointed their guns in unison at who they could now tell was Roger. “Oh, I see not. Hello there Vespers. What a coincidence seeing you here.~”

“Good evening…Roger.” Vespers greeted once again, noticing that he too was dressed nicely, if you took away the marks from the bottoms of his pant legs and dried his shoes. “I see you two will be attending a party later, if not already did. Does this happen to be one hosted by Blueblood?”

“Yeah, you going to it?” Roger grinned, glancing at his brother who rolled his eyes before turning around. 

“Yes, Maggie and I will be there.” Vespers turned to Stellar who was clearly not in the mood for this. “And how about you, Stellar?”

“If you’re going, I sure as hell am not.” Stellar began walking away as Vespers deeply frowned, now turning to Roger.

“The hell’s his problem?”

“He just loves you.~” Roger fluttered his eyelashes which made Stellar make a turn before taking hold of his brother, Vespers watching in surprise. “He loves you Vespy-Wespy! Goo-goo eyes here and-”

“Don’t you ever fucking shut up!?” Stellar angrily yelled as he dragged his brother away,Roger snickering as he told more teasing comments.

“What the fuck just happened?” 

_____________

“He escaped.”

“Yeah, no fucking shit.”

“He fucking escaped.”

“I heard you the first time after I realized he fucking escaped.” Stellar angrily adjusted his loosened tie, both brothers walking out of their borrowed car as Roger slightly panicked.

“Coral’s gonna have our heads.”

“Oh shut the fuck up. It’s your fault for giving goo-goo eyes to that girl.”

“Ey! You were giving goo-goo eyes at Blackwood!”

“As-fucking-if!” Stellar scoffed, then being greeted by some butlers before they were allowed into the party area. “Coraline’s gonna have our heads…Carol is the one you should be fucking worried about, she’s gonna have our heads served on a platter for the family!”

“Vespers is gonna give you he-”

Roger then received a smack on the head from Stellar who sure as hell didn’t want him finishing that sentence.

“Shut the hell up already, I see Coral.”

_____________

Scarlet lips were placed a clear glass containing pink champagne, slowly disappearing. Coraline soon lowered her glass as she walked around the crowd in Blueblood’s home, ignoring all the eyes lingering on her. Far too irritating it was no doubt.

“And why are you two late?”

“Ask Roger.” came Stellar’s voice as he approached his sister who stared down at him and their brother. “He did some stupid shit.”

“It’s not entirely my fault. You paused to make goo-goo-”

“Oh shut up with that already, will you?” Stellar turned to Roger who snickered to himself.

“You bumped into Blackwood?”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t matter. What matters is…our spy…”

“And what of him?” 

“He…he escaped…”

“What!?” Coraline whispered-shouted as a few eyes glanced at the trio, Coraline holding in her anger as her brothers looked somewhat ashamed, well, Stellar at least. “What do you mean, he escaped?”

“We were on our way to the docks to give him a few words before making him sleep with the fishes.”Stellar started as his sister leaned in, now having a threatening aura that intimidated even him. “One thing lead to another and before ya knew it, we were being chased by another mob.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”Coraline muttered to herself while Roger shook his head. 

“Oh shit.” Stellar mumbled as his siblings now turned to him before he sneaked away. “Gotta go.”

“Sure, go away…pathetic.”Coraine shook her head, then noticing that Roger was still standing with her. “Go shove your face in a cake or something.”

“Aye aye, captain!”Roger grinned before leaving himself, leaving Coraline alone as she felt somebody tap her shoulder.

“Good evening Ms. D’Vitt.”a voice came, Coraline slightly gripping her glass as she shut her eyes and released a quiet sigh, then opening her eyes to turn to see a elegantly dressed man.

“Good evening Mr., what is your name?” Coraline turned to Abraham who now magically stood  behind her. “Abe, do you remember this man?”

“Nope.”

“Oh, you do not remember me?”

“I am afraid not.”

“I’m the one who you talked business with, about joining our bars?” the man quietly chuckled as Coraline gave him a look, then having a moment of realization. 

“Ah, you are the same man who was attacked by my children’s cat, yes?”

“Ah…yes, that…that is me.”

“Just as you are the same man that accused my children for that before cursing them out as little devils?” Coraline fluttered her eyelashes sweetly as the man grew flustered, and he walked away before she looked at Abraham, both laughing quietly to themselves.

“Hey Coraline, is it okay if I go eat something?”Abraham then asked before Coraline gave a nod.

“Of course. While you do that, I will take a stroll outside. See if I can find my feathered acquaintance somewhere.”

“Alright, I’ll be out once done.”

“Oh don’t bother, all those guards outside will keep me safe.”Coraline chuckled before she and Abraham parted ways. Soon enough, after avoiding and shaking off many others off her leg especially those who liked to forget about her children, she reached the outside of the lavish home. There were guards standing all around, keeping a close eye on all those who arrived or left. Coraline let out a deep breath as she focused on the sound of her heels walking along the path she followed until reaching a sort of garden. Nobody was around, yet it was still close to the party itself.

“Miss, I believe that guests are to stay indoors to avoid any danger.” a voice spoke which made Coraline shut her eyes once again, then opening them as she stared at a tree near her.

“It seems to peaceful out here for there to be any danger. I’m sure I’ll do just fine.”

“Well…we were told to keep everybody safe, so I would feel more comfortable if you could please go inside with the others.”

Coraline rolled her eyes before turning around to see who see guessed was a guard, and she was right when she saw a man stare right at her. He was surprisingly short, compared to the others she saw scattered around. 

“If…if you’d like, I’d happily escort you back.” he cleared his throat while Coraline turned to him, looking over his figure.

“Or perhaps, you could let me stay here alone? I just need some peace and quiet right now.”

“Hm, well…I suppose I could.” the man nodded. “And if you’d like, I will be here if you need anything.”

“Great, you are such a gentleman.”Coraline commented before turning away to look back at the tree near her, the man then speaking again.

“And you are a beautiful woman.” Coraline whipped around to look at the man with a frown, and he noticed this. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, I’m sorry.” Coraline shook her head while turning her whole body to face him. “I’m used to so many calling me that, but it’s to bed me if not take advantage of me. You seem like, a genuine nice man.”

“Oh…then you wouldn’t mind if I continued?”

“Continued?”

“Yes, because your eyes sparkle and shine brighter than the stars up above.” the man sure did continue, making Coraline’s eyes widen as her cheeks now matched her pink dress.

“Poetic, aren’t you?” Coraline breathed out. “May I have this poet’s name?”

“It’s, Lennie. Lennie Green at your service miss…”

“D’Vitt, Coraline D’Vitt.”

“You are the owner of the D’Vitt properties, yes?” Lennie asked before Coraline nodded. “I always did find it nice to see a woman in such business. It’s admirable, such as your very beautiful looks.”

“Mr. Green, do you not have any business to attend to?” Coraline gave him a small smile.

“Besides guarding, no, not really. “Lennie smiled back. “Besides, I did say I would be here at your service and I am guarding you so that no harm comes by.”

“If that is so, how about you sit next to me and we converse?”

Lennie grinned before seating himself next to Coraline, looking up at her long eyelashes that she fluttered down at him, sometimes hiding her lovely green eyes. Oh dear, she looked more beautiful up close.

“So, Ms. D’Vitt, what are you doing out here all alone?”

“Taking a break from the crowd. It gets too stuff sometimes and the conversations are either the same if not bland. I am so glad my children never come to these parties. They are always the brightness in my life.

“Ch…children? You have children?”

“Yes. Four of them.”

“How nice! What are their names?” Lennie beamed up at Coraline who gave him a surprised look. 

“Liliosa, Dante, Robyn, and Rayden…One girl, three boys.”

“And, their father?”

“There is more than one father, but I only one. My ex-husband.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Do the children cope alright with it?” Lennie asked with some concern in his voice, and Coraline felt a twinge in her chest.

“They…they’re alright. He is only Liliosa’s father. The boys were adopted.”

“That sounds so wonderful, that you brought them into your life and gave them better ones. You sound like such a wonderful woman who I bet they love very much.” Lennie stated as he and Coraline stared at each other, and she gave a soft nod along with a blushing expression.

“Oh, Ms. D’Vitt.” Coraline practically heard a record scratch in her head before she turned to see another man standing by the pair, and she recognized this as being Vespers.

“Oh, Mr. Blackwood. Good evening.” Coraline nodded at the man who slightly dusted his expensive suit. “Is there, anything you needed?”

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Vespers glanced at Lennie who now stood up, standing straight like the guard he was for the night.

“No, not at all.”

“Well then, I was going to ask if your brothers came around tonight.” Vespers questioned before clearing his throat. “I ask because they dropped something and I wanted to return it.”

“Oh I could-…yes, they are inside. You should find Stellar at the dancefloor.” Coraline slyly smiled before Vespers thanked her and was on his way.

“Who was that?” Lennie watched Vespers walk away before Coraline gave a chuckle.

“A man so handsome,” she started before Lennie turned to her. “In my brother’s eyes. Hopefully, the two have a proper conversation.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, my brother…often, he escapes. Especially anything involving romance.”

“And…what of you, if you don’t mind me asking…”

“Me?” Coraline whispered as Lennie nodded. “Love hasn’t been on my mind for a few years now.”