#sebastian danzig imagines

[sleekervae]

Surrender | Remington x Eva

Masterlist

A/N: Happy Halloween! I've got a cold like you wouldn't believe so I figured it's time to bless you guys with some treats. A little vampire-esque fantasy blurb based on this ask.

Summary: Remington catches Eva writing about her fantasies

Warnings: fanfiction writing, some tumblr angst, light but tantalizing smut, a lot of hickeys

⋆ WORD COUNT — 3.6k

Slowly, Victoria pushed the bedroom door open, contrasting against the quickening of her beating heart. She had given him time and he had found no cure for her. She was ready to embrace death if it meant him and his brothers could be saved.

Skin still damp from the pouring rain she clung tightly to her cloak, making her way downstairs in his eerily homely home. It was warm, as it has been throughout her stay there. Usually he would never feel the need to turn on the heating, but with a human under his roof he’d grown considerate of her comfort. Aldous basically did what he could to keep Victoria alive, all while staying well out of her way and in turn not killing her himself.

Before she even had the chance to call out his name in the open living area, he was resting against the doorway in front of her – as though he sensed her coming. Water beads trickled down her face when she stayed completely still, frozen, staring at the vampire who’d been hellbent on protecting her soul.

Aldous swallowed, wetting his lips all while his eyes slid over her body and drinking in her silhouette in her dainty, floral corset. Unlike herself, he was dressed more casually in a loose, puffy shirt and suspenders drawn tightly against his torso. All tied together with black slacks and bare feet. His disregard for colour palettes or themes when it came to fashion choices never failed to amuse Victoria.

“Did you need something?” His voice was flat, unreadable, much like the expression blanketing his sharp profile that only softened by the wavy locks of blonde hair tickling his thick brows, “Did you leave another book here?”

“No… I just-, I just wanted to see you I guess," she sighed absentmindedly, shaking some excess water from her hair, “It’s pretty lonely up there,”

The look on Aldous' face was nothing short of pained when his eyes squeezed shut, he looked almost guilty before he pinched the bridge of his nose, “Victoria… I’m sorry. But it’s for your own safety,"

“You’ve never hurt me before,” she mumbled, averting his gaze.

And he hadn’t. Initially when Victoria first met Aldous all those months ago, she was terrified of him and the prospect of what he could do to her. He was strong, a lot stronger than a regular bitten vampire, he’s a Blackwell vampire, he was born for this life. It was in his veins and always had been. Even before he and his brothers secured their place in the immortal world, the monster he became lingered beneath the surface. Waiting. Begging to be freed.

But then she got to know Aldous on a personal level, and he would do anything to keep her safe. The fact she was standing in his house proved the fact on some level, despite having no soul, he did care about her. There had been moments together, heated moments, moments that would last an eternity in his mind, where he could’ve succumb to his inner demon and blood lust. But he didn't.

Aldous' features soften upon meeting Victoria's eyes, his doe-like eyes may be raven black in colour but they were swimming with emotion, enough to make her drown in them, “Truthfully I don’t know what’s worse,” He frowned, pink lips parted, “Staying away from you makes me crave you more, but being near you…”

“Makes you want to kill me,” Victoria cleared her throat, somewhat overwhelmed by his presence.

A while ago he’d asked her if she believed in fate, soulmates, convinced that she and he were tied by the beauty of the moon. But as she watched the man in front of her physically struggle to breathe around her, Victoria was reminded that it was nothing more than the curse of the Blackwell bloodline.

The corners of his lips quirked up into a soft smile, “It’s not the curse,” His voice was low, still equal parts infuriating and endearing that he could read her thoughts and she'd never get used to it. “You’re… It’s…. It’s more than that. If I were only interested in you because of the curse you would’ve been dead a long time ago. The curse complicates things, but, well…”

“Maybe it’d be better for everyone if I just died already and got this over with.” she chuckled, while simultaneously trying to ease the budding tension with a joke at her own expense it was obvious Aldous didn't see the funny side. His frown deepened, a small hum escaping him.

“Is that how you really feel?”

“I’m just saying…” she sigh, squeezing the cloak around her body a little tighter, “I give my life in exchange for the Visigoths leaving you alone… And you won’t have to waste time searching for a miracle. You can go back to your normal life before we met—”

“My time will never be wasted when spent on you.” He took a step forward, surprising her, his jaw clenched so tight she wondered if vampire bones were capable of shattering, “If it takes me forever to get ride of Lilith then so be it, I’m not prepared to let you die.”

She tried to reason with him, shuffling a cautious step in his direction, “I don’t want you to be in pain anymore, if dying is the only way—”

“I’m not going to let that happen!” The projection of his voice startled her, but not as much as the loud bang followed by bricks crumbling around his feet after he punched the door frame did. She stared at him wide-eyed and frightened, unable to peer away from the way his chest heaves up and down with each angry breath. “I need more time… I’ll find a way.”

At this she lost it, laughing humourlessly before she matched his volume and rage, “There isn’t another way Aldous! You’ve tried!” she rushed over to him, until she was in arms-length distance and being mindful not to step in the aftermath of his temper, “I can’t live like this anymore, knowing that it’s hurting you and your family… I just-, I want this to be over with. I’m ready,” she sighed, eyes fluttering shut. It was such a relief to say that out loud.

Aldous swallowed, dark eyes zoned in on her face, “Well I’m not ready to lose you, Victoria,”

“It has to be this way, to save --”

“I'm not letting you go, not yet. You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you,” He began, trembling boney hands gently finding purchase on her shoulders, “You’re the poem the universe wrote only for me.”

A tiny gasp betrayed her when his cold fingers found her chin, tilting her face up to meet his. It was indescribable how beautiful the man was standing before her, even in his human life he must’ve been the most handsome person around. His eyes were dark in colour, framed by even darker delicate lashes. The pits of her stomach ignited with desire, along with an uncontrollable need to be closer to him. A pull so inhumane and sewn deep into her soul that Victoria struggled to compare it to anything she'd ever experienced. It was Aldous' breath, warm against her lips that broke her from the trance, gazing up at him with big eyes.

“I know you feel this too… This comfort, this desire…” He whispered, until his lips were a hair away from hers, his own eyes sliding shut, “The ache in your heart, is my promise to you that this is more than the curse. You belong with me,"

“Then change me,” she pled quietly, cupping his angled jaw with her hands, “There’s no way to beat the curse, if it’s death that completes his transition… Technically I’ll be dead. Change me.”

“There’s no guarantee it’ll save you or us, there’s no guarantee you’ll even survive it… Not every human is strong enough to withstand it. It’s too risky. Your life isn’t something I’m willing to take chances on.”

She sighed again, pressing her forehead to his, “Please, Aldous...”

"Whatcha' working on?"

Eva nearly jumped out of her seat, moving swiftly to change the tab on her laptop, "Remington!" she spun around in her chair, coming face-to-face with her moppy-haired boyfriend. He gave her a curious glance, his brow popped and she prayed he couldn't hear her heart thundering in her chest, "I -- I didn't hear you come in..."

"Yeah, I just got home," he chuckled, "Did I startle you?"

"Just a little bit," she nodded sheepishly as she glanced around their shared space. It was bright out when she last checked, now it was bordering on the sun setting, the clouds blanketing the sky a dark, dull bluish grey, "Oh my gosh, it's late. I totally forgot about dinner!"

"Don't worry. We can order in," he bent down to give her a kiss, smoothing her hair out of her face with a gentle stroke of his fingers, "What were you working on?"

Eva shrugged back, "Oh, just... more paperwork and stuff. Client reports... taxes..." she hated that she was such a bad liar.

"Taxes aren't due until spring, babe," he tutted.

"And why not start now rather than later?" she replied with a simple shake of the head, getting up in search of her cat, "Where is Pluto? I gotta' feed him,"

"I think I saw him dart under the couch," he noted, glancing at her computer from the corner of his eye. Eva groaned aloud.

"Not even a smoke bomb's gonna' get him out," she turned around and to her horror, Remington was hunched over her computer, skimming through the blank article she clicked to, "What're you doing?" she asked, her tone sharp and swift.

He turned back to her, a small smirk curling at the corners of his lips. She loved that smirk as equally as she did hate it, "Are you hiding something from me?" he asked, two fingers scrolling up and down on her track pad.

She scoffed back, shooing his hand away, "Of course not,"

"You sure?"

"Yes, yes I am,"

He took a step forward to which she took one back, "You were just working on taxes?"

"... yes," she stiffened.

His smirk grew, trying to stifle his laugh. He found her so stupidly adorable when she was flustered. Eva winced when the backs of her thighs hit the edge of her desk.

"... And is Aldous Blackwell your financial advisor? Or is he an accountant?"

Remington was delighted when Eva smacked his arm repeatedly with her sweater paws, her hands stuffed into the cuffs. He laughed as he grabbed ahold of her, awing at her pouty lips and her averted blue eyes.

"Shut up! You saw -- you dick!" she whined.

"Well of course I saw!" he cackled, "If I walk in and Pluto's the only one who greets me I know you're working on something important. Clearly -- my alter ego is very important to you," he winced and cringed as she smacked him again, "Okay, okay! Calm down! It's okay!" he assured her.

Eva wasn't one for hearing his assurances. She buried her face in her hands, grumbling to herself, "Please don't tell anyone,"

"Are you crazy? I'm not gonna' tell anybody! C'mon, look at me," he replied, taking her hands away and placing them around his waist, "How long have you been working on that?"

She huffed, debating whether it would be more worth her while to kill him or herself in that moment, "I -- Billie and I were going through some of your videos and we were watching Tonight is the Night I Die and... I just had this idea and it fit so well into your story line..."

Remington stepped back, taking his spot in her chair. The screws squeaked under his weight and the padding on the arms were worn, but it was comfortable for him nonetheless, "Tell me about it,"

Eva sat on the edge of her desk, she thought about telling him to fuck off, or she'd simply walk away and try to change the topic. However, she began to laugh. Not a full belly laugh, a bashful stream of giggles that matched the tinge of blush on her cheeks.

"I -- there's no -- I can't," she stammered nervously.

"Oh, c'mon Eva," he drawled, pouting his moist, pink lips at her. Eva looked away, knowing she was always unable to deal with that pleading look he perfected, "Or I could just read the blog post if you prefer..."

"Absolutely not," she shut that down very quickly. The only thing she treasured more than her cat or him was her secret blog, still swearing up and down that she'd never show him, "... I wrote about this girl who owes a debt to the Visigoth family, so they send her into the Blackwell manor and they give her this potion that infects her blood so if one of the brothers bite her, they die. The catch is that the potion is slowly killing her until vampire saliva is injected into her arteries. So the only way she can save her life is if the brothers bite her, but she ends up falling in love with one of them and yada-yada-yada. It's so cliché," she huffed, crossing her arms across her chest like a child.

Remington was amused to say the least. He rolled closer to her, his hand brushing up and down her bare knee, "I don't think so. It's an interesting angle. What part were you at before I came along?"

This had to be a test from God, it must've been a biblical test of patience for her. Eva shook her head, "I'm not answering that,"

"Why?"

"Remington..."

He lifted her feet into his lap and rolled the chair closer, her legs bending so he could rest his chin on her knee, "C'mon, please? I swear I won't laugh. I can't speak for Pluto,"

Eva rolled her eyes, nevertheless she knew he wasn't going to let this go. If there was one thing Remington had going for him, it was his persistency, "I was right about to dive into the cesspool of animalistic vampire sex that was so carnal it would make Morticia Addams blush,"

"... And your female protagonist -- does she bare a striking resemblance to someone I know?" he asked.

"... Maybe..."

He quirked his brow again, his intrigue fully peaked now. His fingertips tickled at the undersides of her thighs, reaching the hem of her cotton shorts and drifting down again. Eva swallowed back whatever uneasiness was bubbling in her throat, could pick off by the darkened look in his eyes that Remington was already up to no good.

"What?" she asked suspiciously.

"What?" he echoed back, feigning innocence.

"I get nervous when you look at me that way," she replied, her giggles bubbling with apprehension.

"Why? I could offer you some inspiration, if you need," he said.

"I don't have writers' block,"

"And?"

She couldn't lie that the masochist in her enjoyed how he toyed with her nerves. That being said, she enjoyed playing hard to get even more.

"You're ridiculous," she pushed him back with her foot before hopping off the desk.

"Me?" he gaped with mock insult, "You love me so what does that say about you?"

She smirked back, rocking back and forth on her heels, "That I probably need a psych eval,"

Remington's eyes narrowed and he gripped hard on the armrests of her chair. His head leaned back against the rest, his dark eyes fell into slits and his long dark hair fell at the sides of his face, and Eva swore she only saw him look so brooding once before.

"C'mere," he waved her over with his hand.

Eva shook her head, "No,"

"Please?" he leaned forward.

"Nope," she took a step back.

"Eva..."

"Aren't you hungry?"

"Oh, you have no idea," and with that, he took off out of the chair. Eva took off a second later, a chase ensuing throughout their apartment. Squeals and childish laughter echoed through the air, likely heard by their neighbours but they couldn't give two shits.

Remington finally slid across the floor to grab Eva, lifting her by her waist and tossing her over his shoulder. She slapped at his butt, a futile attempt to get him to put her down but she was awash in joyful giggles that were just music to his ears.

She was still laughing when he tossed her down on the bed, quick to pin her arms over her head as he crawled on top of her. His lips crashed over hers in an instant, messy and rough and so devilishly hypnotizing. In and instant the mood in the room went from playful to carnal; no matter how Eva squirmed or tugged Remington refused to let her loose.

He was careful not to smother her with his weight, a sly smirk tugged at his lips as he watched her, "You're so cute,"

Eva's only coherent response was to stick her tongue out at him. Remington chuckled darkly, "I'm gonna' bite that tongue, young lady," he mused.

Remington wet his lips, flashing her a lascivious grin before he moved forward, bringing his lips just before hers. He breathed against her, teasing her with the idea of a kiss, before turning to the side and finding her neck.

 Goosebumps freckled her skin as the heat of his breath hit her pulse point, and within a hot second, Eva was a goner. Remington's lips pressed against your throat, and the connection was so incredibly electric, her body tensed, currents crackling throughout her veins. 

Eva squirmed as his teeth scraped across her skin, applying enough pressure in his bites to certainly leave a mark but not to puncture the skin. He let his lips brush back and forth over her collarbones, kissing her lightly before suckling hard. His teeth grazed over the warm skin, leaving soft red imprints, tongue darting out to lick at any marks he might have left behind, but before he could actually get his lips to suck the hickey he desperately wanted to lay on her skin, she called out to him.

"Remington," a moan of his name and he was pulled from her neck, lips detaching, still parted slightly, puffs of air slipping through his teeth. Driven on instinct and fed on her whines he craved to hear the moan again, see the marks imprint his mind once more,

“What is it?” he cooed, taking her face in his with one hand, eyes still lingering to the pretty marks, “Tell me what’s wrong?” he smiled when she bashfully looked away.

"Nothing's wrong," she groaned, but it was more than the eye could see. She was consumed by the power he had over her, was torn between how gentle he was being with her and simultaneously craved him to ravage her.

"I never thought about it until now," with no objections, he tore away the shorts and slowly from her body, gliding them down her legs, "But I think if Aldous had a lover that he would be very passionate... but he'd also be very impatient if he didn't get his way,"

Eva exhaled heavily, squirming as his fingers slid over her slit through her panties, "And if he was here right now what would he want?" she asked.

" -- He'd want to hear all the pretty sounds you make when your pussy is played with... just like this," two fingers were on her clit, rubbing in short, concentrated circles, "And if his lover liked to put up a fight, then he wouldn't stop until you surrendered to him; doesn't matter how many times he has to fuck you,"

Make noise she did, not that she could help it. Her hips bumped up with every pass, every twirl and manipulation on her clit had her silently begging for more. She mewled, struggling to pull her arms down for some little seam of control but Remington was relentless.

He pushed her against the mattress, looming over her with his incredible body. He completely swathed her, entirely controlling her pleasure as his lips drew sinfully arousing kisses on her neck, hungry and lustful while his fingers played calculated chords between her legs. 

 His teeth lightly nipped her skin before his tongue smoothed the ache, and he moved onto another part of her neck, ravaging it. She wriggled underneath him, exhilarated by his body pinning her into the wall, his hips pressing into hers — she didn’t ever want him to stop.

“It's okay, baby,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of her head while he curled his fingers down and then upwards, brushing against that spot deep within her, “Talk to me,” he encouraged. 

“Feels good,” she whimpered, almost whining when he slid his fingers out of her and dragged his fingertips over her clit, “So fucking good.��

“I can tell,” he chuckled, sliding two fingers back in, “You’re opening up for me,”

“F-fuck,” she moaned brokenly, turning and burying her face into the crook of his arm. Remington sped up the pace of his fingers after, her sinful moans only spurring him on.

“You gonna come?” he whispered and she nodded, gaping when his lips reattached to her neck and he sucked hard, “Go ahead baby, come for me,"

“Rem,” she gasped, her back arching against his chest when he used his thumb to brush against her clit. 

“Be good and come on my fingers baby,” he whispered, filthy words pushing her over the precipice, her orgasm rippling from the top of her head to the ends of her toes.

Remington felt a surge of power, easing her legs wide as he continued to slide his fingers in and out of her, lips dragging down to fresh skin around her chest and bringing more hickeys to the surface, sucking on her like a god damn vampire.

[fever-daydream]

Masterlist

REQUESTS OPEN

Please see request rules and information.

Movies and TV Shows

Top Gun/Top Gun Maverick

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Twisters

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Mission: Impossible (Movie Series)

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Star Wars Universe

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Marvel Cinematic Universe

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American Satan/Paradise City

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Bands

Twenty One Pilots

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Black Veil Brides

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My Chemical Romance

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Palaye Royale

None yet!

[grav3yardbb92]

Sebastian Danzig x f!reader

"We're the Baby Bats, thank you so much for having us. " I shout to the crowd of the sold out show " now, I'm proud to introduce, the real reason you guys are here....Palaye Royale"  the crowd erupts in loud screams as my band mates and I pack our instruments and exit the stage. We are met with smiles and high fives from the Kropp brothers as we pass them. But I'm suddenly stopped by Sebastian,  when his hand grasp my wrist.

" your voice is amazing" I studdered  out a  thanks, and I'm sure my face is cherry red right now, thank God for the darkness of backstage. " I'm seb..." his introduction is interrupted by Emerson yanking on his ear.

" I'm y/n" I shout back, hoping it wasn't drowned out by The Royal Council.

*6years later*

" y/n, I know you're nervous, but if you don't  quit squirming,  this iron will burn you" my best friend warns me, as she holds a fistfull of my hair, attempting to curl it.

" I'm sorry, I can't help it" I explain, trying my best to be still. I look down at my phone, smiling at the picture of me and my fiance, then quickly glance to my left at my wedding dress. Oh. My. God. I'm getting fucking married.

Hair. Curled.

Make up. Perfect

Dress. Laced up

Flowers.  In hand

Music. Playing

Here I come Sebby.

My father and I make our way down the gold carpet in the tea room of a gorgeous, vintage style Hotel  I smile wide and concentrate on breathing slow and steady. In, out, in ,out. My e/c orbs meet his beautiful green ones, and his smile mimics mine. I fall in love all over again. It seems like forever before I am finally beside the man of my dreams and my father removes my hand from his, placing it in Sebs.

Twenty minutes, vows, tears,  two " I do's"  and one deep passionate kiss later and I'm walking back down the isle, hand in hand with my husband.

The reception is just as insane as I expected. Pictures, cake, toast, dancing, laughter, and many more kisses. Hours passed and my shoes are now in my hands as we say goodbye and goodnight to all the guest. Seb and I have the honeymoon suite for the night before leaving tomorrow for our honeymoon, to where? Only Seb knows. He insisted on planning it to a surprise destination.  And I'm so excited to find out where we will be spending the next two weeks. But,  that will have to wait till morning, because the night is not over.

We walk hand in hand, to the elevator, which we have to ourselves and of course he takes the moment to share our first private kiss since we tyed the knott. The doors open and our fingers are intertwined again and he leads me to our  grand suite .

He slides the card, opening the door slightly before smoothly scooping me up into his arms. I giggle softly and kiss his neck as he enters and closes the door behind him. He then places me back on my feet and i immediately connect our lips.

His scarf is removed and his shirt is unbuttoned and he slowly unlaces my dress, and it becomes a pool of lace at my feet. His eyes widen at the sight of my light purple, lace lingerie, and I smile at his reaction.

" see something you like Mr.Kropp?"

He pulls me close, leaning into my ear before responding with a whisper..

" you are stunning Mrs. Kropp"

[descentintobandom]

Ghost in the Graveyard

Title: Ghost in the Graveyard Chapter: One-Shot Pairing: No Pairing Rating: T Fic Summary: Shiloh has gone to the graveyard to kill herself and meets Sebastian. Author’s Notes: Inspired by the above moodboard by @ylove-bandaesthetics​. The title is from a game I used to play as a child called, “Ghost in the Graveyard.”

If there was a perfect place to die, it was a graveyard.

This is what went through Shiloh’s mind as she entered the graveyard in the woods. When she died, a bear would probably come along and eat her body. Morbid thoughts, but she was in a morbid place.

It was so quiet that it almost freaked Shiloh out. Shouldn’t there be wolves howling? Or birds tweeting?

The only sound came from the leaves crunching under her feet and the bottle of pills in her jacket pocket.

Shiloh walked a little further into the graveyard, past tombstones that could no longer be read. She wondered how long some of them had been there. Finally, she stopped and sat down, leaning against a headstone.

Shiloh took a deep breath and pulled out the bottle of pills she’d brought with her. She popped the cap and was about to empty the bottle into her mouth when she heard a voice.

“I don’t think you want to do that.”

Shiloh’s eyes snapped open and she saw a man standing in front of her.

He wore a tan jacket and a black tank top with a black ascot tie around his neck. There brown boots on his feet and black skinny jeans on his legs. He looked like he’d come straight from the late seventies/early eighties.

“Shit!” Shiloh cursed, dropping the bottle of pills.

They scattered across the ground.

She placed a hand on her chest as her heart beat quickly.

The man chuckled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Shiloh glared at him. “It isn’t funny!”

“I wasn’t laughing at you, I promise. I was laughing at…well it doesn’t matter.” He leaned down and picked up the bottle of pills. “What are you doing with these?”

They looked exactly like…

“That’s none of your business!” Shiloh snapped, reaching for it.

The man pulled away from her grasp. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were about to kill yourself.”

Shiloh stood up and snatched the bottle from his hand. “So what if I was?” She’d been depressed for a while. She didn’t see the point in living anymore.

“I’m Sebastian.”

“And I don’t care.”

“You are very stand-offish, you know that?” She reminded Sebastian of his younger brother Remington. Was he still…?

“Look, can you just leave?” Shiloh asked.

“Actually I can’t.”

“I’m not your responsibility.”

“Never said you were.”

This man, Sebastian, was odd. He wasn’t fighting her. In fact, he looked like he could care less. Like he had bigger things to worry about than a suicidal teenage girl. “You wanna tell me why you’re in a graveyard, in the middle of the woods, in the middle of the night, about to kill yourself?” Sebastian asked her.

Shiloh sighed. “Have…have you ever reached a point in your life where you just stopped caring? Honestly, I could get shot or run over by a car tomorrow and I’d probably thank them.”

Sebastian nodded. He’d gone through a time like that. A very long time ago. “What about your parents? What happens when they wake up in the morning and you’re not there?”

Shiloh didn’t have an answer to that. She hadn’t been thinking of her parents when she left the house hours ago. She couldn’t imagine her mother or father finding her body. Maybe that’s why she drove all the way out here. To die in peace.

“I know life seems rough right now, but you shouldn’t give up,” Sebastian told her, “Go home. And leave the pills here.”

Shiloh looked down at the bottle of pills in her hand. Finally, she handed them to Sebastian and turned to start walking to her car.

“I know how life works. Trust me. I once lived it.”

Shiloh turned around, about to ask him what he meant by that but he was gone. “Sebastian?” she called.

But there was no answer. He had just vanished.

A shiver went down Shiloh’s spine as she ran back to her car. If she’d just turned around, she would have seen the grave behind her.

“Sebastian Danzig Kropp. 1954-1981”.

[a-and-mtrashpile]

Boyfriend!Sebastian Danzig Headcanon

A/N: Let me know if you guys like it and let me know if you want an Emerson one, also don’t forget requests are open!

-one word: booze

-okay, your entire relationship isn't based around alcohol

-but you definitely need it to deal with him and his brothers

-Sebastian may come off as arrogant or kinda assholey, and he is, but that isn't the point

-when it comes to you, homeboy is sweeter than any candy you could ever think of

-he's whipped and everyone knows it

-constantly asking if you need anything, even when he's overseas and can't really help he still asks

-he always makes sure you're taken care of

-like, he'll feed you if you need your hands for something else

-hell, he'll feed you even if you're perfectly capable of feeding yourself he just likes feeling needed

-stops drinking as much when he met you

-not because he didn't want to drink anymore, he just wants to spend as much time with you as he can and he can't do that when he's shitfaced and face down in a toilet

-one time you couldn't sleep and you wanted someone to sing to you, so he chugged a whole water unnecessarily and tried his best to sing you to sleep

-watch out Remington, Sebastian's coming for your wig

-sorry, anyways

-loves when you interact with the fans and all the love they throw at you

-he just feels so happy when you meet fans after a show and they want pictures with you

-facetime, skype, tango, whatever video call app you decide to use is a must

-homeboy has to see your face and know you're safe and okay to be able to sleep

-you can't call him until some ungodly hour? he doesn't care, he'll wait all night if he has too

-everyone makes fun of him for how whipped he is but he really just doesn't care cause you love him just as much and you guys know you're a power couple

-only get's slightly salty when the fans want you more than him, but he wants you more than he wants himself so he gets it

-fan's love all the cute pictures and how happy you make their favorite boozy dad, even if it looks like you guys are eating each other's tounges in some of the pictures

[sleekervae]

The Neighbour [4.6]

Masterlist

A/N: Christ on a crutch, here we are!! Thank you again to everyone for your patience! It was so tough writing a good conclusion to Eva's journey and over all I'm very happy with this! And I think considering that we're about to enter into another new Palaye era speaks volumes to this transition. Thank so much again for your patience! Happy reading!

Warnings: some emotional angst, fluffy reunion, Happy American Thanksgiving to those who celebrate

--

Thanksgiving was rarely ever a grand, extravagant affair in the Kropp family; nonetheless, subtle nuances from the previous year's celebration were easily discernible. Their once exuberant friends-giving festivity now found a cozy haven within the confines of Remington and Emerson's dining room. The smells of warm spices and gravy wafted through the air, a mouth-watering promise for what was to come. A select few friends exchanged shared, delectable side dishes amid clouded conversations, all the while Sebastian was attempting to carve up the turkey in the kitchen. He had only uttered a few cuss words so Remington figured it was going well enough.

He was only partially listening to Caity's conversation with his mom, catching up on work endeavours and whatever plans they may've had for Christmas. However, Remington couldn't help but keep glancing at his phone, once, twice, his mind racing as he wondered where Eva could've been. She told him she'd call him before their own Thanksgiving dinner, though he noted how quiet she'd been since the latest update on her mother's health. He wondered if he should just say fuck it and call her himself, though he'd panic before he could, assuring him that she probably just needed her space. She was supposed to be home in a day, and it felt like it couldn't come fast enough.

"Earth to Remington!" Caity waved her hand in front of his face and he instantly snapped out of his trance, “Copy if you read us,”

"What was that?" Remington asked.

"What do you want for Christmas, doofus," Caity asked, holding back a chuckle, "C'mon! You've been so quiet all night! I know we're still pandemic-struck but still!"

Stephanie simpered, "He's missing Eva, that's all,"

"Mom," Remington grumbled, "That makes me sound like a whiney pre-teen,"

"Well, you're certainly moping around like one," she replied, "Why don't you go help Sebastian?"

"Mom, he's supposed to be slicing turkey, not me," he replied.

Caity simply just rolled her eyes, "Oh, c'mon Remi! He's not gonna do that. Not with witnesses around, anyway," she joked.

"Speaking of your brothers, where's Emerson?" Stephanie turned her head, glancing around the room.

"Probably seeking refuge in his hobbit hole," Michael said as he passed by, crunching on a cracker with slathered in artichoke dip, "Great dip by the way, Stephanie,"

"Thank you Michael!" she beamed back.

None on them were the wiser to Emerson curled up on the stairs, sketching away in his notebook and far away from the camaraderie in the kitchen. He had Pluto nestled beside him, his leg still wrapped in the blue cast, though he was unbothered as he snored away beside the youngest brother. Emerson would pause between pen strokes to give the tabby an affectionate head pat, he figured this was the coziest the cat had ever been in the time he'd known him.

Emerson's train of thought was broken suddenly when the doorbell echoed through the hall, and his heavy eyes glanced up to the front door. Pluto perked up as well, raising his head and his ears sprung up. Emerson glanced over the railing towards the crowd, calling out.

"Hey! There's someone at the door!" though to no surprise, nobody could hear him. He figured he could've answered the door himself, but he was already comfortable in his spot and he didn't want to disturb Pluto, "Remington! Sebastian! Michael!" and still, no one could hear him.

And so, in true Emerson fashion, he whipped out his phone and began to type...

Remington had just finished pouring himself a glass of wine when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket, whipping it out faster than a gunslinger in the west. However, he was dismayed when he saw Emerson's text:

Someone's at the door

With an eye roll, Remington texted back.

Where are you?

Sitting on the stairs

So why don't you go answer the door?

Because I don't want to disturb the cat

The cat with a broken leg, mind you...

It's sprained, not broken

Same difference

Remington huffed, setting down his wine glass and begrudgingly heading for the front door. Sure enough, he passed his little brother on the stairs, the tabby cat nestled against his legs. He glanced between him and the front door.

"You really couldn't make the ten foot walk to open the door?" he asked, tone verging on bitterness.

Emerson shrugged back, "Would you disturb this innocent child?" he pointed to Pluto with his pen, "Besides, our visitor is probably catching a cold out there,"

"They'd be catching less of one if you just got proactive," he muttered back, "Did we invite anybody else?"

"I don't think so," Emerson replied, "Maybe it's Amazon?"

Remington reached for the door knob, "I didn't order anything..."

He wrenched the door open, steeling himself to welcome a potential unexpected visitor or perhaps discover a package-bearing Amazon delivery person. Yet, astonishment washed over him as his eyes widened in disbelief at the sight of Eva standing on his stoop, luggage in tow behind her.

"-- Eva!?" his voice quivered slightly, yet the edges of his mouth tugged upward in a smile tinged with incredulity.

She locked her left right ankle in front of her left, smiling with giddy and a twinkle in her eye, "... surprise!" she half-sang, half-giggled.

Remington scooped her up in his arms without a second thought, hugging her tightly to his chest, inhaling her vanilla essence. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, her cold nose pressed to his skin but quite frankly he couldn't care. He missed her so damn much.

"I thought you weren't coming home until tomorrow?" he murmured, relief laced in his voice nonetheless.

"I was, but I just... I needed to come home," she replied, "I missed you so much,"

"Fuck me, I missed you more," he kissed her, aching for the comforting familiarity of her chapstick's faint sweetness, the pillowy softness of those lips he could've spent hours kissing. Eva wound her arms around his neck and pulled him to her with an intensity that surpassed mere physical proximity, reveling in the sanctuary of his embrace.

"Eva?" Emerson's voice suddenly rattled from behind them. The couple broke apart and glanced over, Remington was none too surprised to see Emerson hadn't bothered to move from his spot on the stairs. That didn't stop him from craning his neck like a giraffe to try and see what was happening.

"He's still not getting up!" Remington shook his head as he grumbled.

Eva tittered softly, "Hi Emerson,"

"How did you get a flight so fast?" he asked.

She shrugged, stepping aside as Remington moved to grab her luggage from out of the cold, "My sister's boyfriend has a cousin who works for the airline, turns out," she replied, "... I hope you guys don't mind having one more dinner guest?"

"Are you kidding me?" Emerson gawked back, "I'm willing to sacrifice Sebastian in order to make space for you myself. Right Pluto?" he glanced down at the tabby.

Pluto finally made the move from the stairs, slinking down the marble and hobbling over to his master. Eva was nevertheless quite concerned when she noticed the bright blue cast on his leg.

"What the -- Pluto!" she was careful as she picked him, cradling the big baby in her arms as she turned to Remington, "What happened?"

Remington smiled sheepishly, glancing between her and the cat as he nervously puffed his cheeks, "Ah... well, he -- uh... Emerson?"

"Nope, you're on your own here," the youngest brother muttered.

"Remington..." Eva stared up up at him, anxiously awaiting some sort of explanation.

Remington sighed, "He... it's a long story but basically your neighbour is insane and he fell off your balcony. But we rushed him to the vet as fast as we could!"

"I've never seen Sebastian drive that fast," Emerson tacked on.

Eva glowered at her tabby, who was none the wiser as he cuddled into her shoulder, his claws gripping tightly to her jacket, "Jesus Christ. Why didn't you call me?" she asked the brothers.

"Because you had so much you were dealing with and we didn't want to worry you," Remington replied, remorseful and uneasy, "But I should've called you. That's on me, I'm sorry,"

Eva shook her head, "You're damn right you should've! I have pet insurance!" she exclaimed, "I could've had the bill covered!"

Remington simpered, "Honestly Eva, don't worry about the bill," one hand moved to her waist and the other rubbed between Pluto's ears, "As long as Pluto's still running around, I couldn't care less,"

Eva's apprehension settled as she relaxed in his embrace, cuddling the cat closer to her chest, "You god damn chaotic mess of fur; I'm seriously gonna' get you a bell!"

"Wouldn't be the worst idea," Emerson said, finally making the move to stand, "C'mon, I'm hungry," and he started for the dining room, notebook still tucked under his arm. Remington simply shook his head as he walked off.

"You know, he just watched while Sebastian yelled at me about peeling carrots. Like -- it's not hard to peel carrots!" he said.

Eva shook her head with a gentle laugh, pressing up on her toes to press another kiss to his cheek, "I'm sure you did just fine. It smells amazing in here,"

"That's mom's artichoke dip,"

She followed Remington into the dining room, still holding Pluto in her arms as they joined their friends. Shy was the first to rise from her seat, rushing over to envelop Eva in a tight hug. Meanwhile, Sebastian poked his head out from the kitchen, curious about the sudden commotion. Eva wasn't surprised to see his apron draped over his stylish pinstripe suit underneath. Chairs were shifted, a new place setting was prepared, and despite Eva's offer to assist, Larissa and Stephanie insisted that she sit back and relax.

The turkey was brought out soon enough, accompanied by a spread of sumptuous sides and a delicious bottle of wine. The table was alive with chatter: Michael animatedly discussing the band's latest video plans, Caity and Hayden enthusiastically sharing their upcoming Christmas trip itinerary. Amidst it all, questions came Eva's way—about her mother, her early return home, her fatigue, and more. Yet, in that moment, Eva couldn't have felt happier. She basked in the warmth of the gathering, feeling entirely at ease, all traces of anxiety vanishing with Remington's arm draped casually across her shoulders.

Only a couple hours later the house was emptied, plates were partially washed and thrown hastily in the dishwasher, any leftovers were packed up and sent home with friends. And because he had shown the least amount of effort in prep, the brothers decided it was Emerson's job to tidy up the table. Remington meanwhile had hauled Eva's bag upstairs, much to her protests that she could do it herself but he remained insistent; he was just so happy to have her home.

Her bag was barely unzipped before Remington threw himself on the bed, chin cupped in his hand as he watched her begin to unpack. There were a plethora of questions burning in his brain.

"Soooo..." he trailed.

"So?" Eva queried.

"Why are you home early?" he asked, "I didn't want to pile on at dinner but..."

Eva placed down the shirts she was about to pull out, sighing as she took a seat on the bed, "Well... you want the long story or the short story?"

He simply shook his head, "Whatever you want to share, where ever you wanna' start,"

She shifted over so she could lay beside him, her hands coming to rest over her stomach as she stared up at the ceiling, "Well... we got a call from the hospital Friday morning..."

Eva's heart dropped when she saw the caller ID flash for the hospital, nevertheless she picked up the call and brought the speaker to her ear, hesitating before she answered, "H-Hello... yes, that's me..."

Magda, Greg, and Theo watched silently as Eva turned her back, her voice coming to a hushed octave. Impatient as ever though, the oldest sister turned to her brothers, "What the hell is going on now?" she asked, tone verging on exasperation.

Greg scoffed back, "Well, in not so many words, Eva's not a match for mom's transfer. But someone else is," he replied.

Magda glowered at him, "And are we waiting for a 90s soap-opera style dramatic pause, or...?"

"She's seeing someone else," Theo admitted, "I guess you guys already knew that -- but he stepped up as a potential donor..."

Magda's eyes went wide, "-- No... Greg!" she turned to him, "Please don't tell me..."

Greg nodded solemnly, "He's a perfect match for the kidney. They're gonna have him prepped this week, after the holiday," he confirmed.

At that, Eva got off the phone with a simple, "Alright, thank you..." and she turned to her siblings. She felt her hands shaking, her heart racing as though she'd had drank coffee on an empty stomach and the caffeine was just beginning to kick in. This whole journey, all of this fighting and tiptoeing and pillage of more trauma had all in turn been for nothing.

"Whelp, she struck again," Magda sighed with a head shake, "Crazy old battle axe did it again..."

Greg steeled himself against the wall, utter defeat overcoming his face, "So, is Julien asking dad for the number of his divorce attorney, or..."

"He has someone," Theo admitted, his eyes averted to the ground, "He said he's always kind of suspected something was up,"

Magda scoffed, "Not to be a downer but as the saying goes: if they cheat with you, they cheat --"

"Mags!" Greg stopped her with a swift glare, nodding his head to their younger sister. Eva was just frozen on the spot, dark blue eyes glazed over as she stared off into space. There was partial relief overwhelming her, she didn't have to go under the knife after all. However, so much had happened in three days, so much mental strain and it had finally taken its toll on her.

"Eva?" Magda stood up and approached her slowly, picking off the reflection of tears brimming, "Eves, are you okay?"

Eva didn't -- couldn't respond. For once in her life she was at a complete loss for words; and yet she had so many thoughts scratching in her brain, so much jumbled jargon to spew out in a twisted heap of nerves and fear but all she could do was give a silent nod, her eyes clamped shut in a futile attempt to stop herself from crying.

Magda caught her just before the dam burst, holding her tightly as the first few sniffles and sobs left her. The two sisters held each other tightly, the eldest not uttering a word as she just held her, rubbing her back as she cooed softly, "It's okay honey, let it out. It's okay,"

Theo couldn't stand to watch anymore, stepping forward to throw his arms around the pair. Greg followed suit, a solemn scene in the antiquated kitchen with the despair finally being lifted from all of them. Eva had so much anger she was still holding on to, but in this moment she couldn't care less. This mess was finally over, tremendously and brutally over, and all she wanted now was to go home...

"... we didn't really plan for a proper Thanksgiving, so we kind of threw some stuff together last night and called it a day," she finished off, her gaze having never left the ceiling, "And Magda's boyfriend got me a last-minute ticket this morning. I was on the second standby out of town,"

Remington stayed beside her the entire time, listening intently, his mind blown at the full revelation of Eva's trip. He was relieved on the one hand knowing she wouldn't have to go under the knife after all, on the other hand he could see how such a plot twist had rattled her, dredging up old feelings she was sure she didn't have to deal with again.

"Holy fuck..." he gaped in awe, "She just threw away her family like that? No explanation, no nothing?"

"Straight to the calculating point, it's her pattern," she sighed, chuckling with pity, "It's classic: she'll let him play as her white knight until she gets bored and finds someone else to pull into her web. She's never gonna' stop, Rem,"

"And that's not your problem," he cuddled up beside her, gently drawing his arm around her body, enfolding her in the embrace of his chest, "I'm so sorry, Eva,"

"Why?" she glanced up at him.

"Because, you went over there with the best intentions and it just -- I just don't want this to affect you more then it already has. I'm worried, is all," he explained.

"I'm okay, Remington," she turned over onto her side, coming nose-to-nose with him, "I'm okay, I swear to you. I'm a little worried about Theo, but Greg assured me he's gonna keep an eye on him. He's done nothing to deserve any of this,"

"Neither have you. I'm proud of you, though," he said.

"Why?"

"You made up with your sister. That's not nothing, believe me," he chuckled at the end, "And you and Greg got closer, and you gaped bridges with Theo and his dad, that's not nothing,"

Eva simpered quietly, "I think you meant 'mend bridges'? 'To bridge a gap' means having the qualities of two different groups or things or... stuff,"

All Remington could do was laugh, at her train of thought, at the sleepy slur of her voice, how her lips curled when she knew she was correcting him but she tried to play it off as no big deal. Words alone couldn't express how much he missed this girl, and how it would be a long damn time before he spent such time away from her again.

"There's my girl," he awed, pressing kisses to her cheeks and her nose, "I missed you so fucking much,"

"I missed you, too," Eva giggled, squirming in his arms but she made no move to push him away; she was just so happy to be home again. She sighed when he let up, pushing loose locks of blonde hair behind his ears, "Do you think you're ever gonna' cut your hair?" she asked curiously, "Not that I don't love this look on you,"

Remington scoffed, "It is getting a liiiiittle long," he admitted, "You miss my spikes?"

"Yeah! They're so quintessentially you!" she replied, "But then there's so many more layers to you than just your hair. I love every side of you,"

With no hesitation he buried his face in the crook of her neck, overwhelmed in her familiar scent, pressing soft kisses to her pulse point as she wrapped her arms around him, "You're so fucking cute. I love you so much," he mumbled.

Eva smirked back, her fingers threading through his hair the way she knew he melted at, "Mmm, I think I love you more," she said.

"Not possible," he squeezed her tighter to him to make his point.

"I don't know about that," she teased, "You're only the greatest thing that happened to me in my life, so..."

Remington couldn't keep the beaming smile off of his face, shifting up so they were at eye-level with each other. His next words spilled out before his brain could catch up, impulsively escaping from his lips:

"I'm gonna' marry you one day,"

To say Eva was a little taken aback was an understatement, "What?" it took her another minute to process what he'd just said to her.

Remington chuckled bashfully, "Not like -- now or anything. But one day down the line... when you're least expecting it, I'm gonna' ask you to marry me," he decided.

"Oh really?" Eva cocked a brow, resisting the urge to bite her lip, "And you just assume that I'm gonna' say yes?"

"Of course I do," with tender affection, Remington traced small circles under Eva's sweatshirt, his touch light and comforting. She turned towards him, a soft smile gracing her lips, and met his gaze with a warmth that spoke volumes, "I love you. I'm a way better person everyday because of you. You are every reason, every hope, every dream I've ever had and no matter where we go in the future, I will always be yours," he brought his hand up to her cheek, caressing the soft skin as though she were porcelain, "And you, my darling, will always be mine,"

Earlier that day, Eva had sworn to herself she wouldn't cry upon her return. Yet, despite her determination, she couldn't stifle the swell in her chest, the insistent pull at her tear ducts, nor the overpowering wave of affection she had for Remington. Each word he spoke felt like a lifeline, flowing from his lips in his husky voice, and she clung to them fervently.

"Oh my God," her eyes fluttered closed as she tried to bury her face in the sheets, "I take it back: that's the most romantic thing I've ever heard you say,"

Remington's expression softened, a gentle smile gracing his lips, "Better than William Blake?"

"So much better,"

Closing the distance between them, Remington reached out to brush a stray tear from Eva's cheek. His touch was tender, his fingers lingering against her skin as if tracing the delicate contours of her emotions.

Their connection intensified in the silence that followed, a subtle electricity lingering between them. Remington gently tucked a loose strand of Eva's hair behind her ear, his touch a tender gesture filled with unspoken affection.

Eva's gaze met Remington's, a softness in her eyes that spoke volumes. In that moment, amidst the quiet intimacy of his -- their bedroom, they shared an unspoken understanding, each wordless glance conveying a depth of emotion that transcended spoken language.

[sleekervae]

You Look So Cool | Remington Leith x OC | The Robbery AU

Masterlist

A/N: wow, so this got really long and it took on a whole other life of its own. However, I haven't written action sequences in a long time and I'm proud of myself! I hope you all like it, don't forget to like, comment, reblog, whatever you feel like! And I'm super excited for the Debilitate video!

Warnings: guns, violence, swearing, some naughtiness but no smut

No one ever batted a second eye at the Hideaway Diner, a local truck-stop dive outside of Vegas that hosted a variety of curious and outlandish characters. The owner didn't really give a damn so long as his patrons paid their bills and no rough housing went about. The paint was peeling off of the walls, the wooden tables were chipped and worn down, and the end-to-end carpet could've used a good deep cleaning, nevertheless the mighty portions and enticing smell of crackling bacon was enough to leave every customer satisfied.

On a particularly sunny late morning, the diner was bustling with truck drivers and hitchhikers. Overworked and underpaid staff went about brewing pots of watery coffee and the kitchen staff were sweltering in the humid kitchen. There was indistinct chattering, retelling of stories and old men getting into debates over their bets for the next big football game. Nobody was paying attention to the young couple in a back booth, two half-eaten plates of hash and eggs sat cold between them.

Remington looked like every straggly, lanky weirdo you'd see on the side of town your mother would warn you not to visit. The people who didn't understand him would make assumptions, he's heard them all: drug addict, drug dealer, parolee, a deviant. Nevertheless, no one could deny how handsome he was, alluring in a dangerous classification that could spell trouble in the best way. The younger waitresses would always light up when he strolled in, instantly smitten with his sharp gaze and his charming smile.

He didn't have a lot to hold on to, just his car, the crucifix chain he kept around his neck, his two brothers, and of course he had his girl. Sitting opposite to him, Vera was a statuesque beauty with pixie-like features, and at first glance not many people would understand what such an innocent-looking girl was doing sitting across from Remington. But those same people making assumptions about Remington made poor ones for Vera, too. They couldn't possibly imagine what greatness the inconspicuous couple had to sit on.

Vera picked at her scrambled eggs absent-mindedly, taking bites between reading through the drawn plans Emerson had given them the night before. Remington had skimmed through them already, but he knew how prepared Vera liked to be for everything. He watched her curiously; the loose hair from her ponytail swinging across her face, how her eyes darted between Emerson's notes to the ones she made on the napkin, and her lips moved slow, chewing her food thoughtfully. They were all such simple things, but Remington couldn't deny watching Vera be in her own presence was a true privilege.

She looked up when she felt his eyes on her, dropping her pen and sitting back in the booth, "What?" she asked.

"Nothing," he shrugged back, his fingers inching across the table towards her free hand, "I just like watching you,"

"I'm not doing anything, though," she smiled at him skeptically.

"So what? You're pretty cool, anyway," he replied.

"I know," she teased back, "Maybe not as cool as you... but still,"

"We're gonna have to disagree on that," he simpered.

Vera didn't hesitate as he took her hand into his, giving her an affectionate squeeze. Even the simplest things he did, how he complimented and took care of her, Vera appreciated him so much. She had never met anybody like him. Underneath all his faults, Remington was truly nothing more than a dorky goofball.

"Well then, would you like to read your brother's blueprint so you can get on my level of cool?" she asked.

"I already read them," he replied simply.

"You barely glanced at them yesterday," she noted back.

"But I cased the place last week. I memorized every exit and noted all the shift changes in security," he reminded her.

"Sweetheart, all due respect, but you have the memory of a goldfish," she smirked.

"I do not!" he exclaimed, mocking offence, "I have a great memory!"

"Oh, really? What movie did we watch last week?" she asked.

Remington shrugged listlessly, he truly couldn't ever recall, "It was at the drive-in, right?"

"No, we were at home," Vera replied, "What about what I cooked for dinner Tuesday night?"

Again, Remington regretfully drew a blank, "You know, it was just so good I was more consumed with eating it than actually taking in what it was," he decided, trying to work his charm. Vera however had been around long enough to know when he was bullshitting her.

"Hmm. My point," she nodded victoriously.

"Hey, hey, hold on now," he interjected, "Those are just minor things. I remember all the big things,"

"Like what?" she asked.

Remington smiled coyly, "Like the red dress you wore for our first date; it had the white buttons going up the front and you had a black shirt on underneath," he recalled, "How about our first vacation together? We booked a ratty little BnB and the generator went out so we had no heat?"

Vera blushed, "And we had to find creative ways to keep warm. I remember," she chuckled.

"Not to mention our first heist together," he went on, "I was all nervous because it was your first one but you handled everything so fucking smoothly," there truly was no denying how proud he was that day, watching Vera take command of ten people so seamlessly and keeping them all in order while the guys took what they could from the bank safe.

Vera giggled some more, "Does it make a difference if I mention I was absolutely shitting myself and was just trying to impress you?"

"It worked!" he agreed, "And every time, you've done better and better,"

"Well, I did have a great teacher," she winked, "He's a pretty cool, guy,"

Remington slid out from his side of the booth and slide in next to her instead, looping his arm around her shoulders and Vera let her head rest on his chest, "Not as cool as you, V,"

Her eyes slipped shut as he kissed her head, a simple gesture but it made her heart flutter every time. No one had ever treated her as well as Remington did, and Vera didn't care if people didn't get it. He was her person, now and -- God willing -- forever.

However, their moment of bliss was interrupted as the waitress strolled over, a pot of sloshing coffee in her hand. Vera moved quickly to hide the evidence of what they were doing under her arm. The waitress, an older woman with greying raven hair, smiled at the couple.

"Well, aren't you two just adorable!" she drawled in a Carolina accent, "Can I offer you some more coffee?"

"That would be great," Remington smiled, pushing his coffee cup towards her, "Breakfast was excellent, as always,"

The waitress giggled merrily, "Oh, you're just the sweetest thing, hon," she then caught on to the blueprints under Vera's arm, "What're you two up to with them papers?"

Vera opened her mouth, her mind racing for a believable answer, but Remington beat her to it, "Oh these? They're plans for our new house," Vera looked at him skeptically. The waitress gasped in delight.

"Plans for a new house? You two are building a house?" she asked.

"Yeah," Vera nodded, quickly catching on, "We're just figuring out whether we have the space to put in a walk-in closet or a man cave?"

"You know which one gets my vote," Remington added.

"Well, good for you! That is excellent! I don't see a lot of young people these days taking the initiative like you two are. That is wonderful," she spoke as she topped up their coffee.

"Thank you," Vera grinned sweetly, covertly brushing her foot up Remington's leg. He did his best to bite back his smirk.

"Can I get you two anything else?" the waitress asked.

"Just the check would be great," Remington nodded.

"You got it," and she walked off back to the front.

Vera slumped in her chair, shaking her head as she began to put the plans away, "Okay. That was too close," she mumbled.

"C'mon, she didn't suspect a thing," Remington assured her.

"To be fair, we could rob this place right now and she wouldn't bat an eye," Remington chuckled as she went on, "But now the next time we come in, she's gonna be asking us about our house that we do not have," she replied.

Remington pulled her in closer, bringing his lips just over her ear, "Hey, depending on how this goes tonight, we can totally have that house,"

At that, Vera was intrigued, "To buy or to build?"

"How about both?" he suggested, "We could get a plot of land out in the country, build our dream house. My brothers wouldn't be around, either, just you and me,"

As much as Vera loved Emerson and Sebastian, having their own separate life to build sounded wonderful, "Sounds like heaven," she drawled, "Let's just not fuck up tonight,"

"We won't," he assured her, "We never do,"

She eyed him skeptically, "People who say 'never' always tend to get it in the end, Remi," she pointed out.

"Okay," he nodded, "How are you going into this, then?"

"With skewed optimism and a prayer to Jesus,"

Ambition was Sebastian's middle name -- or so he liked to think. However, when he saw the news of a diamond bid a year ago, he didn't bat an eye before he told his brothers of their new target. Emerson was skeptical at first; a great big convention centre in the heart of Las Vegas brimming with people of all walks of the economy, housing millions of dollars worth of diamonds. The money alone couldn't compare to the jewels and priceless accoutrements the crew could get away with. But the security was unparalleled to any bank they'd hit before. Nevertheless, the brothers, as well as Vera and their right-hand man, Andrew, had spent the past year preparing and planning for what would be the peak of their heist career.

The ultimate prize tonight was the Warhol Diamond necklace, worth a reported 11.5 million dollars. That should be more than enough for a house.

Of course, since this event was so upscale, it called for upscale tactics. They had to use some of the funds from previous jobs to score some invitations, and of course the invitation required them be dressed to the nines to get in. Of course, this was no problem for the crew, they always liked to dress it up a little on their jobs.

The evening came upon them quickly, and already the strip in front of the convention centre was packed with people. It would be so easy for any of them to slip away unscathed. The top of society was attending, limos and high-roller cars were lined up around the block while dashing men and extravagant woman stepped out, practically dripping in jewels. Remington licked his lips like a hungry predator.

"Did you have to wear the hat?" Sebastian grumbled at Emerson, who was dressed in a tailored red jacket and dark slacks. He had an antique top hat on his head, the brim lined in gold thread.

"I like the hat," Emerson grumbled, not very impressed with Sebastian's own velvet maroon suit, "You're the one wearing an ascot with an open-neck,"

"It draws less attention than a top hat," Sebastian pointed out. The brothers were hanging around in the lobby, shuffling through the herd of people who were oohing and awing at the gold-crusted, lavish Venetian decor. Everything oozed expensive, even the security guards at the metal detector appeared in bespoke tailored suits.

"Hey, c'mon. He likes it, just leave him alone," Remington grumbled back, dressed up in his own dark tartan suit.

Emerson was gawking around the halls, "They really beefed up security around this place. Are you sure about the shift change schedule?" he asked Remington.

"Of course I'm sure. We've been casing this place for a month," he assured, "Trust me, everything is under control,"

"It's all under control as long as V does her part," Sebastian whispered.

Remington smirked back at him, "You talk like she never pulls through," he said.

"I'm not saying she doesn't," Sebastian replied, "But it doesn't matter how many of these we do; there's always an outlier,"

"You were the one that wanted to hit this place," Emerson mumbled.

"Vera is gonna' be fine," Remington assured them, "She knows what she's doing. As long as Andrew's not late we'll be just fine,"

The boys got into the security line up, separately of course. They didn't want to draw attention as a group. One by one, they each went through the metal detector and a pat down, neither of them were flagged.

Meanwhile, Vera was already inside the party. She assimilated well into the crowd of philanthropists, politicians, and unabashed millionaires. She stood off from the bar while she waited for her drink, appearing lusciously priceless in a sleek, velvet black gown. It was a more expensive piece she bartered for, it made it so easy for her to slip into the persona of someone she could only dream to be.

She thanked the bartender for her whiskey soda and she wandered around the venue, meeting eyes with inconspicuous guests. Everyone was gathered around an empty stage front, awaiting when the bidding would start for the extravagant variety of jewelry pieces. Where would the money gathered be going? Well, the front man, Alister Warhol, announced that a percentage of the proceeds would be going off to benefit various charities. The only thing he neglected to mention was he was keeping over 90% of the proceeds for himself, as most philanthropists did.

With most of the guests distracted, she stopped to bend down in front of one of the vent grates. Attached to her garter belt were five canisters, each the size of a large fingernail. Vera had distributed the other four already, having slipped them into the vent grates. Making like she was adjusting the strap of her shoe, she was about to slip the last canister inside when she heard a throat grumble from above her.

Vera looked up, coming face-to-face with an older, distinguished gentleman. He was slender, his stark cheekbones protruding harshly through his skin, and his sunken eyes made him appear older than he appeared. He nursed his own champagne flute, and he smelled as though he'd enjoyed a few beforehand.

"Hello," he drawled, looking her up and down.

Vera strapped an alluring smile to her face, "Hello,"

"I'm sorry if I startled you, but I noticed you from the bar," he said, "You are absolutely stunning,"

"Why thank you," Vera smiled back, "Are you a bidder, tonight?"

He chuckled blithely, "Not exactly. I'm an acquirer for Mr. Warhol,"

Vera raised a brow, "Ah, so these pieces have come from your collection?" she asked.

"Some are mine, some are from other generous cohorts, some have been sold off to Warhol to pay off debts," he replied.

"I imagine I wouldn't want to be the person to owe Mr. Warhol money," she said.

"Absolutely not," he then took her hand in his, "The name's Redmond. Redmond Barrymore," and he kissed her knuckle.

Vera swallowed back her distaste, "Sophia Blackwell," her public cover name.

"Sophia Blackwell..." Redmond drawled, his expression furrowing, "... Oh, yes. I recall seeing your name on the guest list,"

Vera hummed, "I thought you were just Mr. Warhol's acquirer, Mr. Barrymore?"

He chuckled heavily, brimming with the bravado of a man with enough secrets to eradicate every person in this room, "Well, I like to have a handle on who may be bidding on my diamonds,"

Across the room, the brothers had finally entered the major ensuite. Remington immediately accepted a martini from one of the passing serving staff, scanning the room for their target. And there it was, the Warhol Necklace on full display in bullet proof glass, shelved on a high platform and out of reach for any person of general stature. Of course, it was surrounded by a handful of security guards.

"God, it's beautiful," Remington awed, "All 11.5 million of it,"

"We could make out pretty well with some of the pieces on these guests, too," Emerson added, looking around at the crowd.

"Remember, we have to stay focused," Sebastian reminded them, "Where's Vera?"

"I'll find her," Remington nodded, "You remember where we put the bag?"

"Yeah, I'll get it," Sebastian nodded, "We'll meet at the south-east corner in twenty minutes," and he ducked out of the crowd.

"I'm gonna' get a drink," Emerson decided before he too took off.

Remington sipped his martini meanwhile, his dark brown eyes skimming for faces and the odd Tiffany or Rolex he could knick away with. In the next pass he locked on Vera, her exquisite appearance accentuated against the shimmering gold and marble fixtures, not to mention the peak of her long leg beneath the high slit in her dress was so sexy. Remington had so many ideas of what he could do to her in that dress... if only that old man chatting her up wasn't ruining his picture.

He finished the martini promptly and placed it on a discard tray, making his way through the crowd and towards his girl. Vera meanwhile made her attempts to leave, though Redmond wasn't ready to let her go.

"Why don't you join me at my table?" he offered, "We're having dinner courtesy of Wolfgang Puck,"

Vera smiled politely, "That's very kind of you to offer, Mr. Barrymore, but I'm afraid I already have a table tonight," she replied in kind.

"Oh? With whom?"

"With me," Remington appeared seemingly out of nowhere, and Vera was relieved. Redmond looked him up and down, a little more critically than he had with Vera.

"Ah. And you would be...?"

"Aldous Blackwell, sir," Remington shook his hand, "Of the Toronto Blackwells,"

Redmond nodded slowly, "I see. I haven't seen you around here," he replied skeptically.

"I was kept late at an important business meeting, so I sent my wife ahead," Remington explained.

"And... what business do you run, Mr. Blackwell?" he asked.

Vera linked her arm with Remington, "The type that could afford him over half of Alister Warhol's diamond collection," she said. Remington squeezed her hand, never breaking his gaze with Redmond Barrymore.

"Very well, then," Redmond nodded, "I wish you luck in the bidding. As for you, Mrs. Blackwell," he took Vera's hand again and planted another kiss on her knuckle. Remington felt his blood pressure flare, though he kept his composure without a flinch, "It was a pleasure,"

"The pleasure was mine," she tried not to sneer as he walked away. She squirmed on the spot and rubbed her soaked knuckle on her hip, "God, what took you long?" she whispered to Remington.

"I couldn't help it," Remington ushered her through the crowd and towards the back hallway, "They got into it over accessories,"

"Well, they sure picked a time. If it wasn't for you, that creep would've suckered me into sitting for a dinner by Wolfgang Puck," she scoffed back, not thinking as Remington ushered her away from the crowd and into a dark, quieter hallway, "Not that I'd complain about the latter part,"

"I think with this, we could buy us a set meal from Mr. Puck's restaurant," before her eyes, Remington held up Barrymore's Panerai watch.

Vera wasn't shocked per say, though more or less impressed at his speed, "When did you take that?"

In a sharp instant, Remington had her backed into the corner, the watch shoved deep into his pocket, "While he was slobbering all over your hand,"

Remington stepped impossibly closer and pushed her legs apart with his knee. Vera's gasp was swallowed by his mouth engulfing hers, lips and teeth smacking in a rough, passionate kiss. She squeezed her legs around his, fingers threading through his hair as he moved to nip at her neck, his hand coming up to wrap around her throat. She had to bite her lip as he marked her, the rush of adrenaline and carnal tension shivering through her body, every touch of was electrifying and excitement bubbled beneath her skin.

“Remington,” she breathed, trying her best not to smirk as his dark expression, "Did it really bother you seeing the old man so close to me?"

He chuckled suddenly, though she knew it wasn't from amusement. His hand left her throat, slipping down the silky material of her dress until he reached the slit of her dress. His hand slipped up, caressing the inner part of her thigh, his eyes never leaving hers and his smirk widened.

"You belong to me," he mumbled, the intensity of his stare so dark and sharp, "You're all mine, and anybody who tries me will fucking regret it," he did not hesitate before pressing his lips firmly against hers, a desperate attempt to feel more of her. Vera looped her arms around Remington's neck and threaded her fingers within his soft locks, tugging it, smirking against his lips in satisfaction once he hissed at the action.

He swiped his tongue against her lower lip and pushed his tongue inside her mouth, deepening the kiss. With his other hand, he jerked her hips closer to his and pushed his hips against her, she moaned at the sensation of him rubbing against her. He emitted a low groan, his eyes clouded with pure desire as he pulled away from her lips in order to trail kisses down her throat. Oh, if only they had the time, the privacy, she would wrap her legs around his waist and let him take her against the wall right now, the crowd be damned.

"Are you for real?" their moment was slighted by Emerson, standing at the mouth of the hall, his unimpressed glower lit dimly in the shadows. Remington groaned, pulling away from his girl to face his brother, "You guys are like God damn rabbits; can you wait at least until we leave the premises?"

Vera couldn't help but laugh, the brothers equal annoyance with each other a nice breather for her.

"Alright, c'mon then. Let's go find Seb," she patted the lapel of Remington's jacket and walked off, all the while he stared a hole into his cock-blocking little brother.

"Five minutes," he grumbled at him, "You couldn't have let me have five fucking minutes?"

Emerson shrugged, not bothering to hide the shit-eating grin on his face, "You forget your room is right next to mine. You take way more than just five minutes," he smirked.

"Oh, fuck off," and he brushed right past Emerson.

Sure enough, twenty minutes had past. Bids were called, alcohol was consumed, and the diamonds glittered so deliciously under the chandelier display. No one was the wiser to the crew crouched down behind the stage, the dapper looking group having switched out their classy shoes and heels for treaded sneakers, and each of them slipped a gas mask over their head. Sebastian kept checking his watch, it was almost time for the canisters to go off.

"Are we all ready?" he asked.

Remington nodded as he checked his phone, "Andrew's ready and waiting downstairs," he reported.

"And the canisters should be going off in five minutes," Emerson added.

At the mention, Vera's face changed. A sharp fear ripped through her as she realized she never finished her assignment, "Fuck!"

"What?" the boys turned to her, praying her exclamation wasn't anything bad.

"I forgot one," she whispered, reaching under her skirt.

"Forgot one what?" Sebastian asked nervously. They were stunned in silence as Vera pulled out the last canister from her garter.

"Fuck," Emerson covered his mouth.

Sebastian glowered at her, "How could you forget?!" he snapped.

"I didn't mean to! I'm so sorry!" she gaped.

"It's not her fault," Remington cut in, "She was almost caught by Warhol's collector,"

"And yet you wanted five minutes," Emerson snickered at him, slipping his mask over his now hat-free head.

"Shut up!" Remington snapped at him.

"Five minutes? Five minutes for what?" Sebastian asked.

"Nothing!" Vera replied swiftly, "You guys go ahead, I'll slip the last one in the vent real quick," she pulled her mask off and hid it behind her back.

"You're gonna' go out there without your mask?" Sebastian queried.

Vera started for the curtain, "I'll make it. Security just hit shift change," and she disappeared around the velvet material.

"Is she serious? Fuck," Sebastian kicked at the wall.

"She's right, though. She'll be fine," Remington assured, slipping his gas mask over his head, "Let's move,"

Sure enough, the security was switching to the late shift, leaving just a few crucial minutes for the boys to take the stage. Sebastian was swift to subdue the first guard and Remington hopped onto the platform. The auctioneer was more than confused as he turned mid-bid of another diamond piece, coming nose-to-nose with a stranger in a gas mask. Remington knocked him upside the head with his own microphone, taking the stage to address the astounded crowd. Gasps and screams of horror bounced off the marble-slated walls.

"Ladies and gentleman!" he announced, his voice muffled by the mask, "Please, we ask you to remain calm! You are not in danger! However, in case it wasn't clear: this is a robbery!"

Vera meanwhile was slipping through the crowd, the gas canister clutched tightly in her fist as she ran for the last vent. She heard it begin to sizzle and it burned against her skin. In the chaos of the mess however, she was suddenly slammed by another body. The impact threw her to the side and the canister went flying. It was long gone by the time Vera realized what had happened, and she was sure to catch shit for it later. Nevertheless, the canisters were beginning to release the gas from within them and she needed to get her mask on fast.

Some people tried to run for the door, though they found they had been locked in. It was all thanks to Andrew and his quick skills with heavy chains wrapped around the handles from the outside. The sleeping gas began to fill the room, no one would be getting out.

"We're not here to hurt you! In just a few minutes, you're all gonna' feel the most relaxed you've ever been," Remington called out. And sure enough, the gas had begun to take effect. The echoing of coughing, sputtering, and gasping bounced across the walls and bodies began to slump. It wasn't just the guests within the hall, the gas traversed through the vents, reaching the security wing above them, as well as the kitchen below. No one within the immediate vicinity would be able to call for help. Sebastian was holding some taken aback guards at gun point while Emerson was tying them up with duct tape.

"Hey you!" Remington glanced down towards a brave security guard, aiming at the younger boy with his gun, "You get the hell down from there, right now!" he shouted angrily.

Remington, ever so the one to tempt fate, stepped out from behind the podium, his arms raised in an open target. He was goading the guard to shoot him, revelling in the chaos, the panic, and the thudding of bodies beginning to hit the floor.

"You talking to me?" he chided. The guard coughed, trying to cover his mouth and nose with his jacket lapel, and he fought diligently through the gas.

"Yes! Now, I won't tell you again!" he exclaimed. He was none the wiser to the striking young woman coming up from behind him, the bottle of champagne in her hand she used to crack him upside the head. He went down hard and fast, his gun flying off to the side.

Vera stared up, annoyed with her showman boyfriend, "Really?" she groaned at him.

"Hey! You love my theatrics!" he replied, pulling her up on the stage.

"Not when you're goading a loaded gunman into shooting you," Vera rolled her eyes, watching as the last few groups of people began to succumb to the sleeping gas. It was truly a marvel to behold, the room that was bustling with excitement not ten minutes ago was wilted and weak, struggling for air like plants in a drowsy, dark room.

"I saw you coming, anyway," Remington assured her, "Did you get rid of the canister?"

Vera inhaled sharply, "Kind of,"

"What does that mean?" he popped a brow.

"... I might have lost it," she admitted sheepishly, fear flashing through the eyeholes of her mask.

"What do you mean you lost it?"

"I got knocked into one guy who knocked me into another guy and it's out there somewhere!" she pointed to the sea of bodies.

Remington peered out in shock and dismay, scanning as though he could magically spot the canister in the mess. He had a sinking feeling in his gut.

"And which vent were you supposed to put it in?" he asked tentatively.

Vera shook her head, self-resentment and disappointment settling in her chest, "... The one that leads to the security office,"

"Shit," Remington turned to the plethora of diamonds, calculating as their estimated time was now cut by half. Surely, security would be down within minutes, and it wouldn't take them long to cut the chains off the doors.

"Sebastian's gonna' kill me this time," Vera shook her head, "I fucked up, I fucked up real bad --"

"Hey! It's okay," Remington took her by her shoulders, "Listen, you tried. Shit happens,"

"But Remington --"

"But nothing, Vera! We'll be fine! I'll handle Sebastian, you start on the codes for the cases. Let's just get what we can,"

Remington directed Vera to start getting the diamond cases open. Emerson went to help her while Sebastian kept watch over the guards. Remington wandered over to him sheepishly, knowing fully well he was going to be pissed.

"Don't be angry," he muttered to him.

Sebastian eyed his younger brother cautiously, "... Why should I be angry?" he asked.

"Our time was just slashed in half," he admitted. Sebastian gawked at him, his furious expression maximized by his mask.

"Okay, I'm angry. What happened?" he asked.

"It's not important right now,"

"Remington --"

"Don't argue with me right now, please? It was one slip up," he pleaded. Hell, Sebastian of all people had to know nothing was perfect, not even circumstance. Remington just prayed that they could get away with enough bounty to calm him down later.

Sebastian was at a loss for words, staring back and forth between him and the diamond cases. He decided quickly; if they only had half the time then they had to go for the most valuable pieces. He immediately looked up to the Warhol necklace, still perched on its high platform.

"Alright. You scale the platform and get the Warhol. We'll take it and whatever else these guys can get, and we go," Sebastian decided.

"Deal," like a bat out of hell, Remington began to climb the stage set up, clinging to the bars like a howler monkey in the jungle. He had had enough practice that every move was a calculated piece of cake. The Warhol diamond was just within reach.

He jumped for the platform, clinging tightly to the shelf as he shoved at the glass case, moving it until it just teetered off the edge.

"Hey sweetheart!" he called down, garnering his girl's attention, "Here's our house! Heads up!" and the case plummeted down into Sebastian's arms. Emerson and Vera meanwhile had broken out a few key valuable pieces, definitely enough to warrant Remington and Vera their own property and then some.

However, the true crown jewel of the collection was the Warhol Diamond Necklace; a custom waterfall design with stardust African diamonds, ordered by Alister Warhol himself. The rumour around town was he'd had it especially made for the woman he wanted to marry, the only woman in the world who had supposedly rejected him and his high-class attempts.

"Emerson! C'mere!" the youngest brother discarded the last case he had in favour for the big one. He was an expert at cracking codes, give him any safe in the world and he could have it open within minutes. Time of course was not a luxury they could spare.

"What house is he talking about?" he asked.

"I don't know," Sebastian shook his head, "They're at the stage where they wanna' start playing house,"

"Ew. Gross," Emerson chuckled, working as quickly as he could to unlock the case.

"I heard that!" Remington called, still hanging from the rafter. Vera laughed to herself, working quickly to pack what few pieces they had into the duffel.

"Don't be upset, honey. They're just jealous," Vera teased.

"Oh, you wish," Sebastian simpered.

It was painstaking process, and every second they spared was another second authorities had to gain on them. However, Emerson heard the last click of the combination lock and the lid snapped open. With glazed eyes, he pulled out the million dollar masterpiece, truly feeling as though he had grasped the Golden Idol.

"God, she's beautiful!" he mired.

"All 11.5 million of her," Sebastian agreed, swinging around to Vera, "That's buy each of us a house and then some,"

"Hell yeah it will!" Remington leapt down onto the stage with a hard thud, though he walked away unscathed, "I can see it now: large open yard, rock wall faces, Italian fixtures --"

"How about a pool?" Vera suggested.

"Dream house needs a dream pool," Emerson agreed, slipping the necklace into their bag.

Remington chuckled, "And a big pool we can light up at night so we can --" however, he was cut short when a sharp bang rang out through the air, and a crippling pain in his torso followed. Remington fell to the ground to the horror of his crew, Vera and Emerson dropped what they were doing and rushed to him.

"Remington! Oh my God!" they quickly turned him onto his back. Remington was still alive, he was sure of that as he saw the gruesome fear rippling through his brother and his girlfriend, and his body felt as though it was burning from the inside out. He had been shot.

Sebastian meanwhile turned out to the crowd, finding himself in a gun draw with Redmond Barrymore. The older gentleman's gun was still smoking from his fire. He wheezed heavily, keeping himself upright on the table with shaky limbs. It wouldn't have taken much to take him out if not for the nine millimetre he had aimed for Sebastian's head. He grunted through the gas, his willpower seemingly stronger than the gas.

"You put my diamonds back! Or you're next!" he sneered.

"How in the fuck..." Sebastian drawled.

Redmond chuckled darkly, "What's the matter, son? You didn't expect to see an old man come back from the dead? You don't work for Mr. Warhol without having some special tricks of your own," he reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like an epipen at first glance. Whatever was in that needle was a counteract to the sleeping gas, an insurance policy should an occasion as this arrive.

"We don't want to hurt you," Sebastian assured him, "We're just gonna take our loot and go. You'll never hear from us again,"

The older gentleman was in hysterics, "Really? You're quite brave for a man with no options, sir! You're down a man with no escape route because the security will be busting through those doors any minute!" he roared, "I commend your efforts though, the gas masks are a nice touch!"

Remington was gasping for a deep breath under his mask but he knew he couldn't remove it. The air was still too thick. Emerson had to hold him down while Vera ripped off part of the curtain, trying to clot the pack the wound so he bleed out. In his haze of pain and uncertainty, Remington focused on the giant chandelier. Thousands of crystals glinted and twinkled, giving him a brilliant yet crazy idea.

"The chandelier --" he sputtered, "The chandelier!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. It's pretty," Emerson grumbled.

"No! The chandelier!" Remington snapped at him.

"What about it?!"

"Use it!"

"What?"

Vera faced up to the ceiling, almost being blinded by the chandelier and its many glinting, sharp crystals. There was a cable holding the entire structure up; and it hung smack over Redmond Barrymore. If only she had something to cut the cable, they could make a clean get away. It was then she remembered the guards carried their own guns.

She raced over to the group of large men, each of them still out cold as she felt around for a gun. She found the perfect line of trajectory behind the stage, aiming at the guesstimated angle she prayed would make quick work for their escape.

Sebastian froze as another gun shot rang out, but it wasn't from his nor was it from Redmond's. He heard a distinct tinkling, jewels clanging together above his head. The cable holding the chandelier up was sizzling, and he caught wind of what was about to happen. He took a cautious step back.

"You know, I believe things are looking up for us," he noted. Redmond glanced up to the vibrating chandelier, just as another shot rang out. He leapt out of the way just as the chandelier plummeted to the ground, sending thousands of crystals smashing and flying everywhere, electrical sparks raining down from the cable.

The brothers didn't have time to take cover, they made quick work to get Remington to his feet. Vera took the gun with her and grabbed the duffel bag while Emerson had the bag with their stuff.

Redmond hadn't gotten away from the crash unscathed, his leg was pinned down by a metal rod, effectively shattering his shin bone. He cried out in pain and in anger, lashing out as the crew headed for their escape route. He roared like a lion who had missed his dinner, rage flaring through his body as he called, "Who the fuck are you people!?"

The crew stopped, turning back to Redmond with a great smugness hidden under their masks. Remington gathered his wits enough to taunt him back with a sassy remark, "Us? We're The fucking Bastards,"

A loud banging thundered from the doors, and they knew their time was up. Vera and Emerson lead the way while Sebastian hobbled along with Remington, all the while the middle brother kept pressing the curtain tightly into his wound. It hurt like hell, but it was nothing compared to what being caught would feel like.

They cut through the kitchen, a mess of passed out staff, bubbling pots and burning pans. The smell was distinguishable of just burnt, burnt flakey char that nobody would eat. The service elevator was in the back and they all piled in, just as a flood of footsteps entered the kitchen. They had a second to relax.

"Well, that was fun," Emerson puffed.

"Yeah," Sebastian turned to Vera, "Nice thinking with the chandelier,"

Vera shrugged, "It was all your brother's plan," she replied simply.

"Do we have everything?" Remington groaned.

"Not like we can go back," Emerson replied.

"I just hope Andrew's ready," Sebastian shook his head.

"What's he driving?" Vera asked.

The boys looked between each other, realization hitting that they never asked what vehicle Andrew was going to be in. Vera stared dumbfounded between them.

"He didn't tell you what he was driving?" she asked in disbelief.

"We were running late, we just trusted him," Emerson replied.

"It's okay," Remington assured, "Andrew always pulls through,"

The elevator dinged to the basement level and the giant doors swung open. Much to their luck, security hadn't reached the basement yet. They quickly shuffled out, looking around for any sign of Andrew. It was then Emerson found the obscure looking ambulance in the sea of high-end cars, and sure enough, Andrew and his wild head of hair were sitting upfront, his own gas mask covering his face.

"I found him!" he pointed to the ambulance.

"Huh, fitting," Remington chuckled.

Andrew looked up from his round of candy crush and spotted them immediately. He started the truck before Sebastian could wave him down and pulled out in front of them. Sebastian ripped the back doors open and they all clamoured inside. Remington slumped to the floor.

"We all good?" Andrew called them.

Sebastian took the seat beside him, nodding and panting heavily, "Yeah. Drive,"

Andrew however had focused on Remington and the pool of blood staining his shirt, "What happened to him?"

"Just drive!" Sebastian snapped.

Andrew didn't need to be told again, he peeled out of the delivery truck exit and onto traffic. Police cars whizzed by them meanwhile, all stopping at the convention centre. Vera watched out the back window with bated breath, finally relaxing when she saw they were safe.

"We're clear," she announced, and they all pulled off their masks.

The fresh air was a welcome reward for their strife, that and the bag full of diamond trinkets and other jewelry pieces the crew pocketed. They drove unscathed out of the city, the flashing lights of the Vegas strip quickly dissipated into blacked out desert. Some lights flared from homes in the distance, the further they drove the less there was around. Remington stayed slumped on the ground, breathing slowly through his pain whilst he gripped tightly to Vera's hand. She cleaned his wound as much as she could, more of the dirty work would have to be done at home. When they hit a particular checkpoint they had to switch vehicles, Andrew already had a camper van waiting and left the ambulance behind.

After thirty minutes of driving through seemingly nowhere, they turned into an obscure bungalow neighbourhood. It was a lower middle class community where nobody asked questions and everybody usually kept to themselves. The camper van pulled into their home, and the engine hadn't even been cut before the back door flew open and Emerson and Vera helped Remington inside. Sebastian and Andrew meanwhile took charge of unloading their loot.

Remington groaned as he fell into the bathtub, turning over to rip his shirt off. Vera began soaking rags in disinfectant, beside her a hastily thrown together medical kit. It wasn't much, but the tools she had were enough to patch her boys up when necessary.

A half-drunk bottle of whiskey sat on the rim, and Remington swigged it plentifully to numb the pain he knew was coming. Vera's hand were already a sticky mess of blood from the centre and she scrubbed hard to get herself clean.

"I thought he'd killed you," she rattled off, "I didn't know he had a gun, I should've known. He's a diamond collector of fuck sakes --"

"Vera. Vera!" he called, "Sweetheart, we got away scot-free,"

She fell to sit on the rim of the tub, staring at the open wound in his skin with marred distain, "But you got hurt, anyway," she huffed.

"We knew what we were signing up for," he assured her, taking her hand, "You did so fucking well tonight,"

"I fucked up, Remington," she sighed, "We could've gotten more than double what we made away with,"

"And it's enough. Vera, I don't care what we take or what happens to me, I just need you to be okay," he replied, searching for a depth of sparkle in her eyes, "Are you okay?"

She inhaled deeply. She couldn't lie that she had been rattled, and it was surely just a fluke of luck that she had shot down that chandelier so skillfully. She hadn't done her job properly and yet Remington was still so concerned for her. She couldn't imagine how she could even begin to repay him for his love. But then that was it: love wasn't supposed to be something transactional, it was a deep connection and profound fondness for one another. Remington wasn't just her partner in crime, he was her partner for life.

"I'm okay," she nodded, staring wistfully at the rags on the sink counter, "You're probably not gonna' like me in a few minutes," she warned.

"Impossible," he smiled, "You're so fucking cool,"

Vera blushed, supporting herself on the rim and wall of the bath and leaning in to brush her lips against hiss, but was interrupted when their foreheads bumped together, making them both giggle and the tension faded away.

She kissed him sweetly, muttering softly under her breath, "I love you,"

"I love you, too," he sat back in the tub, bracing himself for the stinging pain of retrieval and cleaning. He'd done it before, but every time it never got easier.

Vera took her own swig of the whiskey bottle, holding it out for him, "Drink," she ordered. He obliged her happily, his eyes stayed glued to hers.

Vera sighed as he handed her back the bottle, making a silent apology, "Good, now bite your tongue," and she poured the alcohol over his wound.

The boys couldn't help but tense up when they heard Remington shouting from the bathroom, a position neither of them envied him for. He would bitch and complain for about twenty minutes, grovel about his pain for a day, but he would be back to normal in no time. It was all worth it anyhow as Emerson held up the Warhol necklace, every individual diamond sparkled in the low light. No matter how many hitches they hit in their job tonight, The Bastards were successful in what they'd come for.

[sleekervae]

The Neighbour [4.4]

Masterlist

A/N: woo, I'm back! Sorry updates have been coming up slow for this one, I'm trying. But we're almost near the end and I'm so excited!!

Warnings: pets at the vet, some self loathing, familial drama

--

If there was anything more stressful than taking an animal to the vet, it was having to wait outside the office, fearing the unknown just like they were. There was no sitting in the exam room, no clamouring to keep the pet on the table, no reassuring faces from the doctor that your little guy was going to be okay.

Remington sat on the curb, the car was too stuffy but the air was uncomfortably dry. His knee shook incessantly. Emerson had called the vet to get Pluto in while Sebastian drove them, swerving in and out of traffic like a super spy in a Jason Statham flick. The entire time Pluto lay limp in his arms, he would shift his head from spot to spot, cradled in Remington's arms, mewling when his leg was moved.

A doctor had rushed outside just as they'd pulled into the vet hospital, took Pluto and instructed them to stick around, they'd come out soon after their exam. Pluto kept watching Remington as the doctor took him inside, either it was a look of gratitude or a plea to get him the hell out of there.

It had been forty minutes.

Emerson was sitting shot gun in the car, smoking a joint, the brim of his beret was pulled over his eyes. Sebastian was pacing back and forth in the parking lot, taking calls from Chris, Larissa, their mom. He was concerned not just for Pluto, but for Remington as well. He had been unusually quiet through all of this, now and again asking how much longer Pluto was going to be. He wasn't indifferent or in a hurry, he was scared -- for Pluto, to tell Eva, maybe even for the bill for all of this.

Sebastian approached him, "You hungry? There's a strip mall over there," he nodded across the street.

Remington shook his head, "No, I'm good. You guys go,"

"And leave you here to -- what? Worry?" he sat down beside him, adjusting his suit pants, "Maybe you should call Eva?"

"No," he shook his head swiftly, "She's got too much to worry about right now, she doesn't need to tack on me almost killing her cat,"

"What?" Sebastian gawked at him, "Remington -- this wasn't your fault,"

"Eva trusted me to look after Pluto. I left the window open, I didn't pay attention, I made this happen," he deduced, still staring into space.

"And even if you hadn't left the window open, you know how much of a shit that cat is. Eva's told us how many times he almost got himself killed," he reasoned back, "You think she finds out about this, she'll never speak to you again? No way,"

"That's not the point!" Remington snapped, "I was irresponsible -- like always! And if she does forgive me she's probably not going to trust me with him again! And then she won't trust me to take care of the house, or to be without her on tour, or to even -- I don't know, not separating the laundry correctly,"

Sebastian's brow fell, glowering quizzically at his little brother, "Hold on -- what are you...? Eva doesn't trust you to do the laundry?"

Remington refrained from rolling his eyes, "It's the cycle, Sebastian. It's my cycle. I fuck up and my relationships are down the hole from there. And this is a pretty big fuck up," he pointed to the vet's office.

He didn't mean to sound whiny or weak, but he was speaking from experience. It was why relationship after relationship fell through, somehow he always ended up disappointing his lovers. At least, that was the pattern with his ex. Time after time he'd apologize, try to make up for mistakes, for time, but it was never enough. And that little voice in his head would return, taunting him over and over about how done for he was.

However, Sebastian -- ever the voice was reason -- placed his hand on his shoulder, trying to bring Remington back to Earth. His insecurities were never a secret; Sebastian had lost count of the number of times he'd either have to comfort or fight Remington on his own self worth. At the end of the day, Sebastian would go to the end of the Earth to make sure his brothers were okay, and it broke his heart seeing how lowly he thought of himself.

"Remington... Eva is not Marcy. She's not Lauren, or Thea, or Christina... she's honestly the most pragmatic and -- dare I say -- likeable girlfriend you've ever had. She's a very understanding person, and you've done a lot of growing up with her. And she will understand that what happened to Pluto was a complete and utter accident," he squeezed his bony shoulder, "Okay fine: so you took your eye off the cat for a minute. He's a slippery little bastard. But you didn't throw him off a balcony with a broom, and you were the first person to jump into the car so we could take him here. And you didn't just do it because you love Eva, but you love that cat like he's your own,"

Emerson piped up from the car, "He may as well be your cat, at this point!" he called, "He got hair all over my baroque armchair!"

Sebastian waved him off and turned back to Remington, "Pluto is gonna' be fine because you were there to rescue him. Now, I think Eva might get pissed off if her cat in a cast was a welcome home surprise, so you need to tell her," he said.

"She's already got so much she has to deal with, though," Remington replied.

"Exactly. So, it's better for her peace of mind to know that Pluto is gonna' be okay," he said.

Remington finally looked to him, conflicted, "You think he'll be okay?"

Emerson hopped out of the car at that, shuffling over to the curb as he flicked away the butt of his joint, "Sure. Cats have nine lives, don't they?" he smirked.

"The worse he'll come away with is a cast, we'll probably have to carry him around everywhere. He'll fucking love it," Sebastian chided.

Emerson sat on the other of Remington, already thumbing at his pocket for another pre-roll, "Rem, Eva's crazy about you. You know how much it took for her to not drag you on this trip with her?"

Remington shook his head, "I would've gone. If she wanted me to that badly, I would've gone," he huffed.

"And the same reason you're afraid to call her, she was afraid to bring you up North. Your opinion of her could change for the dumbest or most profound thing, and because she loves you she wants to protect you like how you wanna' protect her from -- our bullshit," Emerson explained.

Sebastian leaned over to glower at the youngest brother, "How do you know all that?"

"What do you think we talk about when we're working?" Emerson replied, "I mean -- the only thing she loves more than Remington is hot cheetos for God sakes,"

Remington's face softened, "Yeah?"

"I mean, I personally prefer the cheddar jalapeño flavour --"

"No, I meant Eva," he elbowed him, "You guys talk about me?"

Emerson shrugged back, "Of course we do. After her, I'm the only person in the world who loves you the most. She's pretty close, though. No offence, Seb,"

"Okay," Sebastian scowled.

Remington shook his head, looking blithely up at the sky. Some cloud cover had come to form over them, sending a sharp chill and fraying shadow across the block.

"This has been one of the strangest days of my life," he huffed.

"... Because of your ghost?" Emerson asked.

Remington glowered at him, "No, because I can't make sense out of those commercials for IBS -- yes! Because of the ghost! And all of this!" he waggled his finger at the vet's office.

The boys turned around when they suddenly heard the office door swing open. The doctor had emerged, scrubbed and masked up... with no Pluto.

Remington's heart sunk.

"Are you guys here for Pluto?" she asked.

"Yeah," Sebastian replied, the three of them slipped their own masks on as they stood up. Remington held his breath.

"Is he okay?"

The family home was bathed in the gentle glow of evening as Eva's father and brother bustled around the dining area, setting the table with care and exchanging light banter. The clinking of plates and the savory aroma of dinner floated through the air, creating an inviting atmosphere. However, an unspoken tension lingered, casting a shadow over the impending gathering.

As they all worked together to prepare the meal, a knock at the door announced Magda's arrival. Eva's heart skipped a beat as she wiped her hands on a kitchen towel and headed to the door. Promising Greg and her dad that she would be kinder, she took a deep, calming breath. She greeted Magda with a smile that blended eagerness and apprehension.

"Hey, Magda," Eva greeted, her voice attempting to thaw the chill that had settled between them, "Good to see you,"

Magda's response was surprised at first, curt nonetheless, lacking the warmth that had always haunted their relationship, "Hey," she replied, her gaze momentarily meeting Eva's before flickering to her daughter, Arleth.

Eva gestured for Magda and Arleth to come in. The little girl's wide eyes took in the surroundings as they stepped into the living room.

"Eva, could you give us a hand here?" their father called from the dining room, his voice carrying the joviality of the occasion.

Eva nodded at Magda and gestured toward the dining area, "Is -- is Bryan coming?" Arleth's father.

Magda subtly shook her head, refraining clearly from rolling her eyes, "He's working, couldn't make it," she took a brief look around the foyer, noting the few pairs of shoes scattered at the door, "I assume the crotch goblin isn't here,"

Greg strolled in from the kitchen, a towel tossed over his shoulder, "Julian took him out for dinner. We figured it was safer for him," he smirked.

Magda glowered at her younger brother, brushing shoulders as she strolled past him, "For him or for her?"

Her words burned painfully in Eva's ears, and despite how her lips twisted, how her eyes narrowed, the pleading look on Greg's face urged her to calm down. Not tonight, not now and not tonight.

As they all worked together, Eva tried to engage Magda in casual conversation, inquiring about her daughter's interests and her life with the pandemic. However, her attempts were met with brief answers, Magda's attention primarily focused on her daughter and helping their dad.

As dinner approached, the atmosphere from the kitchen moved to their old dining room, growing heavier, the unresolved emotions between Eva and Magda casting a shadow over the family gathering. Eva found herself seated next to Magda at the table, their silence more pronounced than the chatter around them. Rosie of course was laying beneath the table, waiting patiently for scraps of food to fall.

Unable to ignore the gap that had formed between them, their father tried to engage them both, "Magda's just started a new job at the law courts,"

Eva's eyes lit up, "No kidding?"

Magda shrugged nonchalantly, keeping her focus as she tried to keep Arleth eating and not throwing her peas on the floor, "I'm just a typist,"

"It's a good foot in," Greg said.

"It's crumbs," she mumbled, eyeing Eva peripherally, "Definitely won't make me enough to run off to Hollywood,"

Eva's fingers tapped across the table, "I don't live in Hollywood," she pointed out.

"Those instagram pictures could've fooled me," she grumbled back.

Her interest peeked, "You still follow me on insta?"

"No," she scoffed back.

Greg rolled his eyes, "I showed her some pictures,"

"You sure you can make ends meet over there? Pluto's looking awfully skinny," Magda said.

Eva huffed, "He's just lean. He eats plenty,"

Magda's gaze met Eva's briefly, bordering on resentment, "Excuse me," she whispered.

"Why are you whispering?" Greg asked.

"So Arleth doesn't have to pick up and remember this dinner when she's older," Magda replied.

"Okay," their father's utensils clanged against his plate, immediately drawing everyone's attention, even Rosie's, "Magda, I understand there's some problems you and your sister need to work out, but she had travelled all this way to help us out. You could at least pretend to be a coherent human being,"

Magda laughed bitterly, "What problems? I just didn't know we were a family that took back run aways," she glowered at Eva.

"What the fuck does that mean?" Eva asked.

"Language in front of the baby!" their father scolded.

"It means why would we take back things that cause us great pain and sadness when we could just lock 'em out and move on with our lives?" she replied.

"Really?" Eva glowered.

"Yeah, really," Magda nodded back.

Eva stole a glance at her dad, who shook his head in dismay. She and Magda got their stubborn streak from their mother, he could recognize it in an instant.

"Magda --"

"What? What do you think could possibly justify this, Dad?" she asked, "I don't even know why she's here. She's of no help to us!"

"She's a candidate for Lydia's transplant," Greg replied, quickly becoming exasperated.

"Exactly! Why are we entertaining all this!?" she exclaimed, "We were fine! We were doing just fine! We don't need to help her, and we certainly don't need your help!" she pointed a bony at her sister, "After it's over, they're both gonna' leave again and we just jack shit shoved up our asses!"

"Language in front of the baby!" their dad scolded again.

The legs of Magda's chairs squealed uncomfortably as she stood up suddenly, taking Arleth out of her chair and starting for the kitchen. Her dad's eyes followed her as she walked away.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"To mash Arleth's food in peace so she'll eat!" she snapped back, storming away.

The comforting food on the table was long forgotten, an icy tension coming over the remaining three family members. Even Rosie appeared deflated.

Eva felt as though she was going to throw up or throw her fist into a wall. She had always fought with Magda, and quite frankly she was tired of it. Magda was right, she had the right to be upset given their circumstances, and quite frankly Eva wasn't sure how she was going to prove to her sister that she wasn't here to cause more pain to her.

"Excuse me," Eva pushed her plate away and stood up, starting for the kitchen. Greg watched her perilously, pushing her vegetables around his plate.

"God speed," he murmured. His father through a scolding glare at him.

Magda had propped Arleth up in her high chair at the island, having mashed her peas and carrots in her bowl so she could eat. Her curly, curly brown hair bounced, spots of green and orange stained her cheeks and nose. Magda didn't have the energy to clean, certainly not as Eva shuffled in.

"We need to talk," she exhaled shakily, tentative.

Magda refused to meet her gaze, "I don't know what about,"

Eva stood in the brightly lit kitchen, her heart pounding as she faced down Magda. The air was thick with tension, their unresolved emotions swirling between them like a storm about to break.

She scoffed, "What about? What about this?" she motioned between them, "I don't want to fucking fight with you, Magda. I get that you're mad at me for leaving, but I didn't move to Asia! I'm a two hour flight away, I'm here! I came back here because -- like it or not, I still care!"

Magda's eyes bore into Eva's, a mixture of anger and hurt clouding her features, "You care? You even know what it means to care? You think you can just waltz back into our lives like you're the great Deux Ex Machina in one of your stupid books?" Magda's voice trembled with suppressed emotion.

Eva swallowed hard, feeling the weight of guilt press down on her chest, "Magda, I never meant to hurt you. I needed to follow my own path, I have dreams and I wasn't going to realize them if I stayed here,"

Magda's lips curled into a bitter smile. "Dreams? That's what you call it? You left me alone, Eva. Just like Mom did," Her gaze flickered toward the small, innocent face of her three-year-old daughter, playing with her toys in the corner of the room.

Eva's heart ached as she looked at the little girl. She took a hesitant step forward, her voice gentle, "I never wanted you to feel alone, Magda. I thought you wouldn't care, or at least understood that I needed to find my own path,"

Magda's frustration boiled over. "Your own path? Well, your own path led you all the way to the west coast -- w-with a swanky apartment and a rock 'n roll fucking boy toy while I struggled to finish college with a baby in tow. Just like Mom, Eva. You abandoned us,"

"Bryan was there to help you!"

"Bryan's a fucking deadbeat!!" she roared, "He works until six and then goes to the bar to drink with his buddies and forget about the fact that he was too fucking lazy to wrap it up before he ruined my dreams! And hers!" she pointed to Arleth.

Eva spoke tentatively, "Does Dad know?"

"No! Because I can here the 'I told you so' from here, and quite frankly, I don't need him or you judging me for it! I got enough to put up with!" she snapped back.

Eva's eyes glistened with unshed tears, guilt riddling up her spine, "I came back, Magda. I came back for you, all of you. I've never judged you for anything; not your prom date, not your clothes, I don't even judge you for Arleth. I just wanted my sister to acknowledge me a little more. It was so easy for me because I didn't think you cared about me!"

Magda's voice cracked, her anger mixing with the pain that had festered for years. "Of course I cared about you, Eva! You're my sister! But you're just so impulsive and it's gotten you into trouble before! I was scared for you, and I thought 'yeah, she's gonna' come screaming back within two weeks', and then the pandemic hit and you were barely talking to Dad and I thought 'fuck it, if she wants to stay away from us, then let here stay away!' You didn't walk, Eva, you ran away! You didn't look back,"

Eva reached out, her fingers brushing against Magda's hand, "I don't want to be like Mom, Magda. I'm sorry I hurt you like that, I never meant to. But I'm here now, and we have the opportunity to prove that we're still here for each other! I will be here for you no matter what!"

Magda's shoulders trembled, her anger slowly giving way to a mixture of sadness and longing. She looked down at her daughter, then back at Eva, tears welling up in her eyes, "It's not that simple, Eva. You're going to leave again after all this!"

Eva nodded, understanding the depth of Magda's pain, "I know it's not simple, but we're sisters. We're supposed to look out for each other, doesn't matter we live on opposite sides of the country. I will -- I will vouch for you, I'll help you any way that I can. I can send you money, I can find you great daycare programs, I'll even listen to you rant on about changing diapers everyday if you want. I'm here for you!"

Magda's gaze softened, her defenses crumbling as the years of pent-up emotions spilled forth, "I don't want your money," she pulled Eva into a hesitant, emotional hug, "I missed you so much, Eva,"

Eva held Magda tightly, feeling the bonds of sisterhood rekindle. "I missed you too, Magda,"

As they embraced, Magda's toddler watched them, sensing the change in the air. The three of them stood there, a tangle of emotions and connections, the past and the present overlapping in a bittersweet moment of reconciliation.

And in that moment, Eva realized that repairing their relationship wasn't just about seeking forgiveness; it was about proving to Magda that she was willing to face her mistakes and make amends, that she wasn't going to be a fleeting presence like their absent mother, but a constant support in their lives.

They returned to the table soon enough; the tension hadn't quite lifted but the spirit at dinner was a little more optimistic. Eva and Magda were speaking civilly to each other, it was then Magda let Eva hold her niece for the first time in forever, and it was one of the most fulfilling moments in her life. Eva wasn't sure she wanted kids, the scale was still tipped heavily in the 'No' end, though she hardly minded snuggling up with her niece so Magda could finally eat properly.

While their dad and brother did the dishes, the sisters decided to reconnect in the living room, quietly chatting between each other while Arleth played with her toys in the corner.

"Mom is cheating on Julian," she admitted then. She wasn't sure why it had slipped out, the harrowing conversation with her mom still ringing in her ears.

Magda froze, pulling away from Eva, staring at her with disgust, shock, "What?"

Eva nodded, "She's cheating again. Both of her husbands are doing everything they can to get her good treatment and she's having another affair at the same time,"

"How do you know?" Magda asked in disbelief.

"Theo told me. He knows about everything. Everything with us and our family and mom's bullshit," she shook her head, "She's doing it again, Mags. She's never gonna' stop,"

Magda leaned back into the couch cushions, her head shook as she mulled over Eva's confession. One the one hand, the anger she had for Eva dissipated and was replaced with disdain for her mother, though given what she knew she knew she shouldn't have been surprised.

"Is she touched or something?" she gaped, "She broke up our family for this new family and even that's not doing it for her?"

Eva scoffed, "I would laugh if it wasn't so fucked up,"

"Does Dad know?"

She shook her head, "I don't know how to tell him. You think we should?"

"Yes!" she replied, "He's paying for part of her hospital stay, for some reason beyond me!"

Eva sighed heavily, "He still loves her," she spoke with disbelief, "After everything she put him through, he still loves her. I can see it,"

Magda glowered, "... Does Julian love her?" she asked curiously.

"Too much. And... I don't want Theo to go through what we did," she admitted, "It's not his fault his mom's a fucking floozy,"

Brash realization fell over Magda, "He's around the same age we were..."

Eva shrugged, "Maybe the difference will be... if the outcome is gonna' be what I think it's gonna be... he could at least have some people to lean on who've been there,"

Magda shook her head with a scoff, "I already got my hands full with a baby. I don't need to throw in hormonal twelve-year-old-boy-trauma into it,"

"I'm not saying be his counsellor," Eva scoffed back.

"Should we confront Mom? We're older now, she might listen to us!" Magda suggested.

"I tried today, it's futile," she shook her head, "She's so wrapped up in the delusion that she's a 'good mother' and convinced that Theo will be 'just fine' with all of this," she spoke awestruck.

"Would she be a malignant narcissistic?"

"Communal. Malignant narcissistics are vindictive and sadistic,"

Magda scoffed back, "This feels pretty sadistic to me,"

Eva stared up at the ceiling. She was feeling a lot of things; relief that she and her sister were talking, all-out frustration at their mother, pity for their half brother, and she missed her cat. She missed Remington. That part of her that Magda had despised so much had flared again, wondering if it was too late for her to catch the next flight out of here and just let their mom suffer. Because as much as it scared her, it hit her then that Eva didn't want to help their mom. She was too full of anger and spite to give her the time of day, let alone her kidney.

No matter how much therapy and time to heal they'd had, Eva was sure that as long as her mother's narcissism reared its ugly head, she would never be able to forgive her.

"I don't want to give Mom my kidney," Eva muttered suddenly.

Magda looked to her, surprised, "Then why the hell did you come out here?" she asked.

"Because I was going to before, but I just changed my mind," she shook her head, glowering at the carpet below them.

Magda covered her hand with hers, exhaling slowly, "Eva, don't change your mind because of this,"

"I'm not," she looked to her, "But it just dawned on me that even if I give her a kidney, a house, a million dollars, whatever -- it's never gonna' end, Mags. She'll never be grateful, never acknowledge what she's done, she'll never apologize,"

Magda nodded, "Eves, if you came out here for an apology in exchange for a kidney, you got another thing coming. That being said, you're allowed to change your mind. Makes going home to your rockstar way less complicated,"

Eva simpered, "He told me before I left, if I had to go under the knife that he'll be on the first plane out here to take care of me. I like to think he's being honest with me,"

"Why didn't you bring him with you?" Magda asked. Eva's knowing look gave her the answer, "... Right, right. Gotta sort out the toxic family drama first. Have you talked him since you left?"

"Everyday," she smiled back, "He's working on his next album, and he's looking after Pluto,"

"Godspeed," Magda chuckled.

"He's not a bad cat,"

"He chewed up my Dolce Vitas!"

"... I'll pay you back for those,"

"Don't," Magda chuckled, smiling genuinely for the first time since Eva had been there, "If that rockstar can put up with Pluto's bullshit, and put that blushy Alllie Hamilton smile on your face... then I guess he's okay,"

[sleekervae]

Clamshell [0.1]

Masterlist

A/N: Hello, I'm back. Still working on some old drafts and had some requests for some new ideas. I'll get to them for sure! I thought up a cute little backstory for how Remington met Vera -- back before she had any idea of this robbing business. And this chapter includes an actual bank robbery now. Happy reading!

--

Las Vegas, 2017

Remington had smoked the same brand of cigarettes from the time he was thirteen, and he hated the way they had been reformatted and manufactured. The taste and zing had been dulled down in order to meet the standard regulations of whatever federal ball-busting association had these cigarette companies bent over a desk. Perhaps he could still enjoy them the same way if he found the same thrill at thirteen, rifling through his older brother's things one day to knocking some off to seem cool to his friends.

The cigarette flew from his fingertips and was lost in the blustering wind, try as it might it could not tousle through the layers of hairspray he had sprayed on his spikes that morning. Down the freeway he and his brothers drove, feeling as free as the birds that migrated above their heads, unaware and uncaring for the chaos and treachery they may find in the big city. Sebastian had to go to work, because of course someone had to pay their bills legitimately; though Emerson and Remington were off to pull some work of their own.

Their long time confidant and friend, Andrew was driving upfront in their beaten up, unassuming mini van, his shaggy mullet was cloistered under a straw hat. Emerson wasn't much of a fan of said hat.

"You look like a farmer," he pointed out for perhaps the fifth time that morning.

Andrew scoffed, glaring at him through the rearview mirror, "Because you look so much less unassuming in yours," he was referring to Emerson's floppy, wide brimmed slouch hat.

"Well, I'm not gonna' be wearing it for the job," he replied.

"Just leave him alone, he likes it," Remington cut in, trying to sprawl his long legs out in the back seat.

Sebastian was sat shot gun, dressed in his jacket for his line cook's job. He kept glancing back at his younger brothers, seemingly uneasy.

"Are you sure you guys wanna' do this without me?" he asked, perhaps for the third time that morning. His brothers had been planning this job for months, a smaller heist in comparison to others they've pulled, but the diner Sebastian worked for was severely short staffed and he was being scheduled more and more until more bodies could be hired. Of course, neither of them could afford to lose their jobs, so Sebastian had to put his heist planning to a pause while he covered as many shifts as he could.

While they figured they could wait this out, Remington and Emerson were eager for another job soon enough. And so, they had spent some time drawing up plans for a smaller bak heist. After all, living in Vegas was no cheap and easy feat for anyone.

"Of course we are, we've planned this perfectly," Emerson assured, turning to his brother, "Right?"

"Right," Remington sat up and reached over to grab Sebastian's shoulders, "We got it all under control, you just do your thing; flip your burgers, dress your salads, pour in half a bag of sugar into your hollandaise sauce,"

"I wouldn't if I didn't have to," Sebastian grumbled back, looking forward as Andrew pulled over to the cafe he worked at. Sebastian turned in his seat again, "You guys be careful, and don't do anything foolish for the love of God,"

Remington put his hand over his heart, "Swear on mom and dad's graves, we'll be good,"

"Better than that, we'll be slick," Emerson grinned.

Still unconvinced, Sebastian turned to Andrew with grim reprieve, "Make sure they don't get themselves killed,"

"You got it," Andrew gave him a high-five, "I'll come pick you up later,"

Sebastian hopped out and hadn't even shut the door before the minivan pulled out again. They travelled through the smaller outskirt suburb of Vegas, where the main strip was still within clear view. Remington and Emerson were getting their gear together in the meantime, guns, duffels, and of course, their balaclavas.

The Lieseil Funds Bank was a smaller bank chain, handling business ventures from blue-collar start ups to college-fund investment plans. It was a more obscure target that wouldn't be a considered target for crimes such as this, and it sat right across from Bobbie Trap's Pub. It was there one would find a raucous commotion emanating from the back of house, a young waitress being scolded by her manager.

Of course, it wasn't initially the waitress' fault, a customer, still drunk from the night previous, decided to try and take a handful of her behind. But of course, when she turned to defend herself, one thing led to another and she tossed a glass of water over his head. Despite how she tried to explain her case, her boss rattled on about how irresponsible and hysterical she was, so he took her by the arm and practically dragged her out of the establishment and threw her out onto the street, tossing her ratty apron after her.

"Go be somebody else's problem, Vera!" and he slammed the door in her face.

That was how Vera found herself sitting on the sidewalk outside of the bank with said ratty apron and her scuffed up converse kicking at the pavement. This was the third job she had lost in four months and she was cussing herself out for being so reactive and explosive. Just her luck anyhow, the volunteer at the women's shelter had lobbied hard for her to get that stupid waitressing job. Never the less, seeing the inevitable disappointment on the volunteer's face when she came crawling back would be absolutely gruelling.

She ran a hand through her tangled, dry hair, her brain racing for some sort of answer to her predicament, she hadn't paid any mind to the minivan that had pulled up in front of Bobie's.

Remington glared through hooded eyes at the bank, mentally flashing through the blueprints that Emerson had drawn up of the building, running through the response time it would take for police. He looked to Emerson, his face covered in his own lint-littered balaclava, then to Andrew, his head down and his straw hat pulled just over his eyes. Morning rush hour was over and the street was relatively quiet, perfect for their quick getaway.

They were just about to hop out when a man suddenly emerged from the local bar, his head down as he counted the stack of money bills in his hand, clearly out for a deposit. He didn't even give the random girl on the corner a second glance. Remington licked his lips hungrily as he watched the man cross the street and head into the bank. Sebastian was going to be so proud of their score.

With one final bow of confidence, Remington and Emerson jumped out of the minivan and hustled across the street, slipping into the bank. The few people within the bank paid no mind until Remington held up his automatic weapon and fired a few rounds into the ceiling. There were screams of terror, plaguing confusion as bank tellers and bystanders ducked for cover. And of course, the one security guard they had proved to me less than efficient as Emerson knocked him out with one swift blow from his gun.

Remington, ever one for great theatrics, leapt onto one of his desks, brandishing his weapon and tossing the duffel at the bank teller, "Ladies and gentlemen! I beg you all to remain calm, you are not in immediate danger! However, if it wasn't obvious: this is a robbery!"

Vera had her head in her hands, none the wiser to the chaos within the bank until she heard the first gunshots. The windows were dusty but when she turned around she could make out some of the pandemonium from inside, and her heart began to race as she realized she was witnessing a full scale bank robbery. It was so close, all playing out in front of her and yet she felt like she was watching some sort of scene from a movie.

"Holy shit," what should she do, call the police? Maybe somebody already had? All banks had those little panic buttons, right? There was more yelling, some banging, and Vera watched in disbelief as one of the robbers leapt onto the desk, almost performative in his clear threat to the public. She was frozen, out of fear or fascination she wasn't sure, but all Vera could bring herself to do was watch.

Remington and Emerson had gathered what money they could, as well as other valuable personal pieces and spare cash the customers had on them. The man from the street had a cool five hundred dollars he had a hard time letting go off, but Remington shoved him down and cleared up as much of it as he could before he and Emerson took off.

Not even five minutes passed before sirens could be heard in the distance, and the robbers were making out with their loot: two big duffels full of cash. The time had come for Vera, she started crossing the street to get herself away from the chaos. The first one raced clumsily towards the idling minivan and the second was close on his heels, or he would've been if one of the bank bystanders hadn't chased after him.

"You get back here! Vera! Stop him!" Vera was shocked to find her boss coming after the second robber with a clenched fist. He was closing in on him, and Vera wasn't sure what had come over her, glancing between the robber and the minivan his partners were waiting in, and then she glanced at her former boss. Her petty anger riled up within in, and as quickly as she could, she put out her foot and watched with with subtle glee as he face planted into the road.

Remington stopped short when he heard the thud, staring in disbelief as he saw the large man trying to gather his wits. His gaze then shifted to the girl who had clearly tripped him, their eyes locked. She was a young, unassuming type, slender and yet she had a mousy attractiveness.

"Move, man!" Emerson called from the van. Remington only had time to throw one callous wink at the girl before he leapt into the van, the dark ink of an X on his right knuckle fleeting as the van door closed behind him. About a minute later two police cruisers arrived, one of them taking off in the van's general direction.

When he had recovered, Vera's former boss dusted himself off, his mean gaze narrowing on the young girl. He stomped up to her, seething like a bull in Pamplona.

"What is the matter with you!" he shoved her, "You let them get away with my money! Are you just that stupid?!"

Vera, playing up her nonchalance, simply shrugged and smiled politely, "I don't know what you're talking about. Maybe you should go be someone else's problem?" and with that, she turned on her heel and walked in the general direction of the women's shelter.

The Bastards crew had made a hasty, but clean getaway from the cops, and Sebastian couldn't deny how impressed he was with his brothers' spoils. They celebrated greatly with some cheap bottles of gin and pizza, though Remington found himself too preoccupied for celebrating. That girl had intercepted and nested in his brain, he had laid eyes upon her just for a moment yet he could see her so clearly. She was reminiscent of a manic pixie dream girl from a Bertolucci film, yet her dim confidence and outlandish pulse reactions were outstanding.

He sat on the porch of the bungalow they shared, a shabby little place in a run down lower-middle class neighbourhood. The air was dry, the heat unbearably humid, though it didn't stop Remington from enjoying his beer as he looked out into the saturated sunset. He had never found himself so curious over someone, especially over a girl. Why had she decided to help him, who was she? And of course, what bone did she have to pick with that bar man?

Out of all the chaos from the day and the questions spinning in his brain, he at least had one answer: Vera. It was a pretty name for a pretty girl, and as he lay in bed that night, tossing the sheets on and off because it was just too damn hot, Remington decided that he wanted to try and find her, to thank her at least. Would she react badly? Maybe. Would Sebastian absolutely end him if he found out? For sure. Never the less, Remington liked risks, and he certainly hadn't met a challenge he wasn't willing to take on.

And as he showered off the night time sweat in lukewarm water, he had successfully made up his mind.

Vera had crawled back to the women's shelter with her tail between her legs, having to sheepishly explain to the volunteers how she'd lost yet another job. Despite their clear frustration with her, they promised they were going to help find her something that would stick.

Empty promises, empty promises.

All night she couldn't sleep, tossing and turning in her brick-hard bed as sleep eluded her. Every time she closed her eyes she kept reliving the chaos from the morning. She hadn't told the volunteers about it, they would panic and worry about Vera being a witness and wonder if she was a liability to the rest of the girls in the shelter. She had seen it before with girls who had witnessed things they shouldn't have, and of course in Las Vegas, there were a plethora of things you would often wish you never had to see.

However, Vera found she wasn't traumatized so much as she was fascinated by it all. It all happened so fast and yet she could remember every detail so clearly, how sharp the gunshots were, how the clear leader of the two was so ostentatious in his crime, how he even took the time to stop and wink her, almost as a thank-you for letting them get away. She couldn't see his face of course, but she could remember those eyes so well; chilling, almond in shape and dark to the point where his eyes almost appeared to be blacked out entirely. Nevertheless, Vera found she wasn't afraid; perhaps she had become so numb to the tumultuous ongoings within the city? Or deep down she was content with the fact that the balaclava-clad stranger wasn't going to hurt her. Not like she would know him if she passed him on the street.

In the sizzling afternoon heat, Vera was wandering an outlet market, a pretty inconspicuous cover as she read her magazine from the news stand. Every time she turned the page she found an ad for some luxury perfume, designer bag or exquisite jewelry piece. She ran her fingers over a bejewelled necklace that Lily Collins was wearing for Cartier, wondering how it must've felt to be and live so rich. All Vera had ever known was cold floors to sleep on and living paycheque-to-menial-paycheque.

This part of Vegas was a bit quieter than the strip, nonetheless bustling with professionals and cars would line up and funnel out to make their way to their destinations. Vera took a deep breath of cigarette smoke, dust, and exhaust, the white noise somewhat calming her. She was none the wiser to the young man standing at the street corner, his hands tucked into the pockets of his denim jeans, seeking refuge in the heat under a shaded tree, his dark eyes locked on her while his cigarette sizzled between his fingers.

"Hey! You gonna' pay for that?" the clerk at the newsstand barked at Vera. She refrained from rolling her eyes as she placed the mag back on the rack with a polite, sickening grin. The clerk came around, grumbling to himself as he had to reorganize his selection of reading material, none the wiser to Vera plucking a candy bar from the opposing display while his back was turned. But Remington found himself impressed as he followed just a few feet behind her.

Vera ate her candy bar without much thought as she skimmed the display tables of shirts and knock off hand bags. Nobody paid her a second thought, she seemed practically invisible as she was bumped and knocked aside by the bustling crowds. She flinched as an associate from the church of scientology tried to shove a pamphlet into her face, ducking swiftly towards the other end of the market. She suddenly found herself in front of a jewelry table, it was nothing too opulent, but the pieces were beautiful and Vera couldn't resist.

She picked up a simple gold necklace, the chain was delicate and in the middle hung a beautiful, pearly clamshell charm. The clerk was too busy bartering with another customer while Vera plucked the clasp apart and slipped the necklace onto herself. It was absolutely gorgeous, the cold complimented her complexion exquisitely and the clamshell glistened in the sun's reflection. Nevertheless, the price swayed Vera much more than the look could; it was forty-five dollars and Lord knew she couldn't afford anything more than a happy meal at this rate.

Remington had broke through the crowd, dodging the scientologist and finding Vera at the stand on the other side. She was twisting from side to side in the mirror, her chucks strained in the soles as she stood on her toes, she seemed almost childlike. Remington couldn't help the curious grin on his face as he debated to himself, how should he approach her? And hell, would she even bother to give him the time of day. He was a relatively good looking boy, though the city was filled with fast-talking leeches and he wouldn't blame her if she told him to buzz off.

However, Remington's opportunity hit sooner than he'd prepared for, whisked out of his head as he heard someone shout.

"Take that off!" the clerk at the jewelry display scolded Vera, making her and the few immediate customers in the vicinity jump. The slender Filipino woman charged over to her, a deep scowl carved into her face as she waved her finger at her, "You can't just take from my table and try the stuff on!"

Vera cocked a brow, "Then what's the mirror for, then?" she asked simply.

"Didn't you read the sign?" the older woman pointed her bony finger to the sign by her register: please ask before trying on jewelry was scrawled out in just legible handwriting, "You want to try? You ask me first! You could be stealing for all I know!"

"I'm not stealing it, I'm trying it on!" she snapped back.

"Are you going to buy it?" the clerk asked.

"No,"

"Then take it off!" she waved her hand at her to hurry along, "Go shop at Value Village or something, you probably can't afford this anyway!"

Vera did her best to bite her tongue as she reached for the clasp, not wanting to give in to the woman's very clear opinions of her, "Okay! Okay! Here!" she barely had a handle on the latch of the clasp before a sudden, sharp odour of cologne filled her nose, and she was surprised to see a young man taking step beside her.

"Hold on a sec, there's no need to be nasty about it," the boy told the clerk, trying to de-escalate the tension between the ladies.

"Who's being nasty! She can't buy anything so she's wasting my time!" the clerk cried, drawing a few side-glances from passer bys.

"Who said she can't buy anything?" he popped a brow, then turning to Vera, "You like the necklace?" he asked.

Vera wasn't sure as to whether she was embarrassed, scared, or relieved, seemingly having this stranger on her side. He seemed harmless enough, smiling gently and persuasive in her mannerisms. She never broke eye contact with his dark eyes, nodding slowly.

"Yeah,"

Remington's smile got wider as she nodded and he pulled out his wallet, flipping through the bills. The clerk had certainly stopped talking once she saw the wad of cash he had on him. Remington pulled out forty-five dollars and handed it to the clerk, plus a five dollar tip.

"There you go, forty-five bucks. Plus a little something for the misunderstanding," he assured her. The clerk glanced at the money, dumbfounded at first. When her train of thought finally caught up with her tongue, she placed the money into her pouch and reached for her register.

"I -- I... thank you. Uh -- here. Let me print you a receipt --"

"Don't worry about it," Remington nodded politely, subtly knocking his elbow with Vera's, "You have a good day,"

For the second day in a row, Vera felt as though she had been stuck in a hallucinatory dream. She nearly tripped over her feet as Remington nudged her to start walking, following in quick step with saucer eyes as she watched him in utter disbelief.

"You good?" was all he said, not bothering to make eye contact.

"Yeah, I guess," Vera huffed, her voice bordering on a gasp and a chuckle, "You didn't have to -- I mean -- I would've put it back no problem --"

"Don't worry, she had it coming," Remington assured her, "Besides, the pendant looks good on you,"

Vera denied the urge to reach up to clutch the clamshell, becoming frustrated at this stranger's nonchalance. Annoyed because he had been so vague and so smug, rebelliously handsome, "Okay then,"

Remington sensed her agitation and capitalized on it, "You could say 'thank you'," he said.

Vera stopped walking then, staying put on the burning cement as she glowered, "Well, who exactly am I supposed to be thanking?"

Remington turned back and extended his hand to her, smiling warmly, "I'm Remington,"

She was tentative at first, her fight, flight, or flee modes were snapping through her brain like the slides on a slot machine. Despite everything though, he did buy her an expensive necklace and so far was asking for nothing in returned. 'So far' being the optimal phrase.

So she shook his hand, "Vera. Thank you for the necklace, Remington,"

The flush in his face he blamed on the heat, but hearing his name roll off her tongue had bells going off in his ears, "You're welcome, Vera,"

They kept walking together, his hands deep in his back pockets while she fiddled with the strap on her bag.

"... So, what's the catch?"

"What catch?"

"The part where I dubiously repay you for buying me a fifty-dollar necklace,"

"You don't have to give me anything," he assured her.

Vera scoffed, "Right, you just did it out of the kindness of your heart, right?"

"You don't believe so?" he asked.

"Nobody ever does anything for free. Especially not in this city," she kicked a loose pebble across the cement.

Remington nodded, "Fair enough. How about a coffee, then?"

"That's it?"

"That's it,"

Vera shook her head, "So you're offering to buy me a coffee to in debt myself to you even more?"

"No, you can repay your debt by spending forty five minutes having coffee with me. One minute for every dollar,"

She exhaled softly, looking briefly around the market as nobody was paying them any mind. If she needed to she could slip into the crowd and disappear so easily. However, he seemed harmless for the most part, he held the aura of a curious, twenty-something young boy who was probably just out to show off and nab himself a piece of tail. Forty five minutes was nothing, after all.

"Forty five minutes, that's it?"

"That's it,"

"Swear on the bible?"

Remington simpered as he raised his left hand and placed his right hand over his chest, "Hand of God, Mary, and Joseph," he promised.

Vera's gaze flickered to the X tattoo on his knuckle, a sharp chill running up her spine. Nevertheless, the chill wasn't fear; it was a gnawing curiosity in her gut as she realized who this man actually was. Her poker face never slipped, however.

She smiled politely, "Okay. Let's go,"

[sleekervae]

The Neighbour [4.5]

Masterlist

A/N: Y'all are angels and I appreciate you putting up with my dry spells. This piece is gonna' be a little shorter than what I would like but we're rolling towards a nice wrap up. Your patience is greatly appreciated, as always!

Warnings: family drama, the brothers getting into trouble, as usual

--

Eva hated long silences, especially awkward ones. Her father sat across from her and her siblings, sunken eyes averted to the table cloth as he'd let her words sink in.

"Are you sure, Eva?" Ivan asked, his voice tapering on a whisper.

The youngest sibling nodded, "Theo told me everything,"

Magda piped in, "She's got somebody new, Dad. She's gonna do to them what she did to us,"

"She's fucked," Greg added.

Their father let out a heavy sigh, "She's still your mother," seemed to be his best reasoning, "You can't just turn yours backs on her right now,"

Magda scoffed back, "And how many times has Mommy Dearest turned her back on us? I barely got so much as a phone call when Arleth was born!" she pointed to Greg, "Bet she doesn't know about Greg being gay! Or Eva's rockstar boyfriend!"

"Or your cancer scare," Eva added, her frustration reaching its boiling point, "Dad, I don't understand how you could still be in her corner? She left you! She left us all behind! And now she's bored in her new family so she moved on to the next thing,"

"And if she's going to keep this bullshit up, then Eva's not going to give her a kidney," Greg said, equally as disgusted as his sisters.

Fear flickered in their father's eyes, his gaze remained fixed on the table cloth, struggling to find the words to refute their argument. He wanted to cry about Eva's selfishness, but his rational side knew his hypocrisy would show no matter what.

"You're punishing her for something out of her control," he huffed.

Eva's frustration grew, her voice trembling as she tried to make sense of her father's enduring devotion.

"She has always been in control, Dad!" she exclaimed, "Would you listen to yourself? She doesn't care about you like this! Why are you still defending her?"

It was only then he met her gaze, the weight of his heartache showing through. It always had, it had aged their father significantly and it saddened the siblings greatly. They loved their father, but they could all agree that he was weak when it came to his devotion for his ex wife.

"She was a part of my life for twenty-five years," he muttered, his tone heavy in anguish, "She may not love me the way I wish she would, but she's still a part of my family. That means I had to find a way to carry the love we had and continue living mine without her,"

Greg shook his head, deflated, "You're still holding the door open hoping she comes home, but she's not, Dad. Lydia is laid up in a hospital bed with tubes up her nose, crying victim while fooling around on the guy she left you for,"

Eva's heart ached with the truth in her brother's words, comparable with the anguish for their dad's. This wasn't an easy decision for her, either, but Eva was never one for playing along with what was expected of her. She would be doing not only a disservice to herself, but to her family and their half brother.

"I'm not giving Mom my kidney," it felt weird to call her by that title, but it seemed to be the only way to drive home the fact that she was serious to her dad, "I still love her, but I'm not going to enable this delusion any longer,"

Remington had his chin in his palm, uneasiness swirling in his gut as he stared hard at the menacing cat. Pluto was hobbling around, still as curious as ever as he sniffed around the house, the only difference now was he had a bright blue cast around his leg. He wasn't even upset over what he had to pay at the vet, he was fretting over how to explain all of this to Eva.

"It's not that bad," Emerson noted, looking up from his sketchbook, "Should we sign it?"

"Can you sign a cat's cast? Or would it be too delicate?" Remington replied.

"It's a cast," he pointed out, "They didn't bind him tissue paper,"

On that note, Sebastian came stumbling into their kitchen, a cloth bag stock full of groceries in his arms. He dropped them onto the kitchen island with a heavy thud, glaring at his youngest brother.

"You know -- when you guys offered to have Thanksgiving here, I thought that meant you'd help me unload the car, at least," he grumbled.

Emerson rolled his eyes, "We're making sure the cat can walk," he replied.

Sebastian scoffed, "For the six hundred bucks we paid, he better be able to walk," he rounded the couch to find Remington, still hunched over as he watched Pluto, "Have you told Eva, yet?"

The middle brother shook his head, "She told me she'd call later, which means I have a few hours to come up with a viable story,"

"Would you calm down, please?" Sebastian took a seat beside him, "She's gonna understand Pluto was an accident!"

"I know, I know," Remington huffed, "I'm still nervous, alright?"

"Well, how about you get nervous about stuffing a turkey with me, hm?" he stood up and started for the door again, "C'mon, guys! Mom's coming with the turkey pans!"

Emerson glowered back, "Thanksgiving isn't even until Sunday, why are we prepping everything now?" he asked.

"Because we've never actually had a full, formal Thanksgiving in our own home before, and we gotta' prep that shit," Remington replied, following Sebastian, "It's kinda special, you know?"

With another eye roll, Emerson closed his notebook and stood up, "Alright, alright, I'm coming,"

The three brothers exited the door and started for Sebastian's open car, the trunk filled with more bags of groceries and tools they'd need for cooking. Remington made sure to close the door behind him, should Pluto get anymore wily ideas.

"What day is Eva coming back, anyway?" Sebastian asked, lugging another cloth bag into Remington's arms.

"Probably Tuesday," he replied.

"What about the surgery?" Emerson asked.

"She's not doing it," Remington replied simply.

Emerson stood stunned for a moment, missing his cue as Sebastian tried to hand him a flat of eggs, "Emerson!" he faltered as he nearly dropped them.

"Wait," he smacked Remington's arm, "She's not doing the surgery? Since when?"

"She texted me this morning," he replied.

Sebastian cocked a brow, "What about her mom, then? What's she supposed to do?" he asked.

"I don't know," he shook his head, "Something went down, obviously. I'll get the story when she calls me," he started back for the house.

"Shit," Emerson huffed, "Good for her, though. I told her to stand her ground,"

"I've given it some thought, actually," Sebastian admitted, "If it was Dad, I wouldn't give up a piece for him,"

"Glad we can agree," Emerson nodded.

Remington reached for the door handle and pushed, surprised however when he found the door wouldn't budge. He wrenched the knob, pushed and pulled, there was no give.

"What the fuck?" he exclaimed.

"What happened?" Sebastian called from the car.

He wrenched the knob again, turning to his brothers exasperated, "The door's locked!"

Emerson dropped the eggs back into the trunk, coming to his brother's aid, "No way," he too tried the knob, pushed and pulled, rammed his shoulder, and nothing was working, "Yeah, we're locked out,"

Sebastian wrangled for his keys out of his pocket -- of course he had his own key the his brothers' house -- and came over. He inserted the key into the lock and twisted, though he was surprised to find the knob was unlocked.

"How can we be locked out if the latch isn't even locked?" he twisted the key again, the clicking echoing to make his point.

Remington felt a chill go down his spine, looking up at the house with worry. His close encounter from the other night whisked through his head, but he thought better than to bring it up.

"Holy shit," Emerson gaped, "How do we get back in?"

"Wanna ask the cat?" Sebastian huffed, trying to ram his shoulder into the door.

Remington relented, putting down his grocery bag and started for the backyard, "I'll go through the window in the back," he decided.

The back patio was locked shut, the exception to the open screen window to filter in some fresh air. Remington popped the screen out and climbed into the living room, careful not to knock over any furniture or spook the pets inside. He stopped suddenly when he found Pluto sitting at his feet, staring at him with his big yellow eyes.

Remington simpered, carefully picking up the tabby and cuddling him into his shoulder, without knocking his cast.

"Pluto, did you lock the door on us?" he awed, starting down the hall, "Such a bad kitty. What's your mother gonna' say when she comes back and I report to her all the trouble you've gotten into?"

He approached the front door, perplexed as he found indeed the lock wasn't turned. With Pluto slung over his shoulder, he wrenched the knob and the door opened with no stalling, on the other side his brothers, relieved.

"Was it locked?" Sebastian asked, picking up and carting in the groceries.

"No, it wasn't," Remington replied frankly, "That's fucking weird,"

Emerson smirked, the egg flat cradled in his arms as he passed him, "Maybe it was your ghost playing a prank?"

"Alright wise guy," Remington slammed the door again, "I'll wake you up at two AM next time and you can be on ghost watch with me,"

Sebastian simply shook his head, "The two of you are gonna' be ghosts if you don't help me," he warned.

Remington pouted back, "You gotta' get through Pluto first," he patted the cat's bum to make his point. Pluto's only response was a yawn.

Greg ran to the door before the bell even finished tolling, revealing Julian and Theo on the other side. Julian was just shaking out his umbrella, the rain continuing to thunder down in the streets.

"Weather's gone biblical, I swear," the older man shook his head. Theo kept his head down as he kicked his shoes off, glancing through the curtain of his hair to pick out Eva's silhouette in the kitchen.

"Thanks for coming," Ivan helped Greg take their coats. Eva meanwhile stayed in the kitchen, Magda was at the table nursing a cup of lukewarm tea and taking a well earned break while Arleth was down for her nap.

Eva was staring at the names on her phone, Remington's was just screaming for her to hit call and hear his voice, his scratchy chuckle or whatever stupid jokes he could come up with to make her feel better. She wished she could have the time to just transport herself out of this headspace, put herself back within reach of him and her kitty, she missed them both terribly.

"We had to after the phone call," she heard Julian say, her curiosity now peaked as she looked up. Theo was approaching in a small shuffle, looking nervously between her and Magda. Eva smiled sympathetically.

"Hey, you want some tea?" she offered.

Magda began to laugh, "You're offering a twelve-year-old boy tea?" she chuckled.

Eva shrugged back, "Well, I don't know. We have it ready!"

Theo cracked a shy smile, "Sure, I'll take some," he said.

"There's sugar on the table," Magda directed, her interest peaked too, "What phone call is your dad talking about?"

He looked to her sheepishly, then to Eva, a silent wonder if it was safe for him to answer. Eva was equally curious, nodding encouragingly as she poured him his own mug. Theo sighed.

"The hospital called us --" he began, however, their father's echoing cry took them all by surprise.

"Are you kidding me?" he nearly roared.

Greg entered the kitchen at that, his expression dazed as though he was in a stupor. His sisters and half-brother stared at him.

"What's wrong?" Eva asked.

That's when Theo spilled the beans, "They canceled your transfer," he told her.

On the one hand, Eva was filled with relief, a heavy weight lifting off of her chest. On the other hand...

"... Was I gonna' get a phone call about this?" she gaped.

"She's not a match?" Magda asked, her excitement and elation teetering in her own expression.

"Nope," Greg answered precariously, his tone heavy, "Somebody else is, though,"

Eva was in no mood for his long, dramatic silence, " -- Who?"

Before Greg could answer, sure enough, her cell phone began to ring. Her chest tightened when she saw the hospital name flash across the screen, nevertheless, curiosity gnawing away at her as she picked up the call.

[sleekervae]

Clamshell [0.2]

Masterlist

A/N: Thanks for your patience, everyone! Here's part two!

Warnings: mild mention of human trafficking

--

Remington was seventeen when he'd pulled his first job. It wasn't his idea, he had stumbled into it more or less. There was this debt collector they had owed money to, it was more money than the brothers had between them. Emerson was still scraping by in high school, Sebastian was working two jobs and Remington was making pennies cleaning out cages at the local pet store.

Of course, being the quote-on-quote "fuck up" he was, he had gotten himself fired and had come home early to find the debt collector in the doorway of their measly one bedroom apartment. He was standing nonchalantly while his goon was beating the snot out of Sebastian who hadn't even gotten out of his kitchen scrubs, the white linens were spattered with blood as it dribbled from his mouth and nose. Remington couldn't move, his knuckles were white as he gripped his bag and his chest felt tight, he couldn't utter a word regardless of whether he wanted to.

When the debt collector had finally noticed Remington he called for his goon to lay off, stalking over with a predatory gaze in his eyes.

"Hey, little brother!" he trailed off with a nasty chuckle, glancing at Remington up and down. Remington swallowed down the sickening lump glomming in his throat, clinging like glue.

Sebastian stood on shaky limbs, terror seizing him as he laid eyes on his brother, "Remington, don't --!" though he was swiftly cut off as the goon delivered a swift kick into his gut.

"Remington! That's right! I always get you and the other one mixed up," he laid a large hand on the scrawny boy's shoulder, his grip like a vice over his denim jacket, "Listen, I get it, you're probably terrified right now, I don't blame you. But you see, your brother made me a lot of promises to my boss... and he hasn't delivered on those promises,"

"I just need more time!" Sebastian begged.

The collector rolled his eyes, glancing to his goon, "Moss,"

The goon, Moss, socked Sebastian in the jaw.

Remington jumped ahead, "Hey, wait --!"

"Easy, easy now!" the collector held him back, "Don't worry, we're not gonna' do him in too hard. But you gotta' understand, Remington, Sebastian owes my boss a lot of money. You don't just get to shaft him because flipping burgers doesn't make the cut. What do you do for work?"

He hadn't even registered the question until he had been slapped on the back, "Hey, I'm talking to you!"

"What?" Remington finally barked back.

"What do you do?"

"I-I clean cages at TotalPets!" he gaped, "I mean -- I did. I did,"

Through sticky eyes and aching bones, Sebastian mustered enough strength within himself to sit up and still managed to pull off that classic disappointment scowl.

"You got fired?" he snapped.

Remington shrugged sheepishly, "Bit of a dispute. You say 'fired', I say 'it just wasn't a good fit',"

Sebastian shook his head, "You mouthed off again, didn't you?"

The collector began to laugh, showing off a greasy, toothy grin that only a mother could love, "Hey, it's all good. Shit happens. But fortunately for you, I have an opportunity to fill the gap,"

"You shut up!" Sebastian began to stand but Moss pull him down again, "Remington, don't listen to him!"

"I know big bro just wants to protect you, but he's not really in the position to be telling you what to do now. And he still owes me... what was it Moss, two grand?"

"Three,"

"That's right," he snapped his fingers, turning back to Remington with a lecherous smirk, "As shameful as it is, looks like little brother is going to have to atone for big brother's sins,"

That was five years ago...

The Hideaway Diner was a greasy spoon about a mile outside of the strip, and while it wasn't the most questionable diner Vera had the pleasure of dining in, it held haven for some questionable looking characters. But then again, here she was putting her trust into a questionable character.

Ten minutes.

Across from her sat Remington, puppy-eyed and perky with a steaming mug of coffee; two sugars, no cream. Vera had her own coffee, served black, beneath the table her knee was shaking not so much out of pure fear but her intuition was tingling, her eyes kept averting to his knuckle tattoo.

"So, how's a girl like you wind up in a place like this?" he asked, keeping cool on the outside though on the inside he was trembling like a leaf. It had been a long time since he'd been out on a date -- if one could even consider this 'a date'.

Vera smirked, "A mysterious stranger whisked me over here," she replied smartly. At least she was attempting some humour with him.

"You know what I mean," he chuckled, "You're not a local, right?"

She shook her head, "Nope. I'm from Albuquerque,"

"So, how'd you wind up in Vegas?"

"You first," she nodded.

"Do I look like a local?"

He was testing her, what for she wasn't sure; but it was in the way his eyes narrowed and he licked his lips in anticipation, watching her like a flame off of a Bunsen burner.

Vera leaned forward on her elbows, cradling her chin in her hands, "You have your own car, a few years old given the rust to the license plate which means you've been driving here for a while. You knew all the back streets to avoid the traffic jams, and you barter with cranky market vendors like a fucking pro. You like attention, but you're also not one for confrontation so you mediate stressful situations which tells me... middle child? Not to mention Peggy Sue or whatever her name is at the front greeted you by name and knew you took two sugars with your coffee, which tells me you're way more than just a frequent flyer,"

His lips curled up as he stirred his coffee, "Wow,"

"Did I do good?" she queried.

"Better than I thought," he simpered, "You picked all that off in ten minutes?"

Vera glanced at her phone, an older model though it continued to serve her well, "Twelve, actually. I got thirty-three minutes left,"

"I'll use them wisely," he sat back in his seat, "Anything else you can pick off, Sherlock?"

"Why do I feel like you're fishing for compliments, Remington?" she asked, popping a brow.

He shook his head, "Every man likes having his ego stroked, wouldn't you agree?" he replied.

"Depends on what's in it for me," she stated, subconsciously toying with the clamshell pendant.

"How about I read you, then?" he suggested, "And you let me know how warm I get?"

Her eyes flickered to the tattoo again, and she had to wonder if he knew that she knew. If he knew who she was and despite how comfortable she was becoming, how intriguing she found him to be, "Sure,"

Remington licked his lips, beneath the table his own knee was shaking. He kept his hands off of the table so she couldn't feel his vibration through the wood. Vera watched him, her bright eyes reminded him of a curious alley cat, watching for something exciting to capture her attention, and depending on what he'd do would either draw her closer or frighten her off.

"You clearly like the finer things, but you're in-between jobs so you preen your appearance. Your nails are clean and your hair is freshly washed but your sneakers are pretty banged up. Am I warm or cold?" he asked."

Vera smirked, "Warm,"

He locked his shaking knee behind his still one, resting his elbows on the table surface, "You're definitely either a big Strokes or Arctic Monkeys fan,"

"Sure," she sniggered.

"You're very independent and can hold your own, but you can be cautious in precarious situations. So -- only child. You're from Albuquerque, but you're also not a tourist. I'd reckon you've been here probably -- anywhere from under a year to just over a year and a half...?"

"Warmer,"

"But you didn't come up here just to scrape by in beer bars, you're either chasing your own dream or were chasing someone else's dream. But you don't exactly follow your friends across the country to chase their dreams so, logically, you followed a boyfriend down here,"

Vera's feigned confidence slipped, and her smile wavered. She stayed silent as he continued.

"But you're on your own now, ergo you were stalking flea markets by yourself. So I'm going to say it was a bad breakup? Did he cheat on you or was he just dead weight?" he sat back, feeling pleased with himself at first. However, the ghostly pale expression on Vera's face had him second-guessing, her eyes averted to her hands on the table.

"... Was I warm? Cold? Room temp?" he asked, hoping to nudge her out of her headspace.

Vera took another sip of her coffee, slow, silent, clearly something was ailing her.

"Vera?" his voice was laced with genuine concerned now, "If I said something off or to offend, I'm sorry. I was just playing along,"

"No, it's okay," Vera inhaled sharply as she spoke. She was impressed with him, overall forgetting why she had come out here in the first place, "You're right, Remington. You're right about everything, except for the last part. He wasn't my boyfriend; he was my pimp,"

If there was a time where Remington needed to eat his foot more, it was this moment.

"Shit," he leaned back in the booth, "I'm -- I'm really sorry. I didn't know,"

"I didn't expect you to know," she shrugged back, "I'm not even sure why I'm telling you,"

Remington nodded slowly, "We don't have to talk about it. I brought you here for forty minutes against your will, I don't need to stress you out anymore," he chuckled at the end, trying to lighten the mood.

Vera cracked a smile. Knowing what she already knew, she found him pretty harmless. Speaking of...

"You know what else has been stressing me out?" she asked, keeping that pretty, coy smile on her face, "You miraculously knew that I worked in a beer bar... when I never mentioned what I did for a living,"

Remington's stomach dropped, though his face never slipped. He chuckled, "I mean, that was a one off. Lots of people work in bars,"

"Beer bar is pretty specific though. You also mentioned that I'm in-between jobs. So... how would you know that unless you we've met before?" she asked, her lashes batted softly.

"I was in the area. Heard the commotion," he replied.

"Wasn't as big as the commotion from the bank robbery that day," she mentioned, "I saw it all go down,"

"Did you?"

"Yeah,"

"Must've been terrifying," he was trying to deflect.

"Kind of,"

"Did you get a look at the guy?"

"Not his face. But I saw a tattoo on this one guy's knuckles," Vera leaned forward, lowering her voice, "It looks a hell of a lot like your tattoo," she glanced at the X again.

Remington opened his mouth, his mind racing with palpable excuses. But Vera had cut through every excuse he could think of on the fly; if Sebastian was here he may have been able to come up with a better alibi.

"Alright, you got me," he relented, throwing his hands in the air, "Nice work, Nancy Drew,"

"Don't mention it," Vera sat back.

"... Are you gonna' call the police?" he asked tentatively.

"Is that why you came after me?" she replied.

"I didn't come after you,"

She scoffed, "You stalked me through a flea market and then coerced me into coming for coffee to this middle-of-nowhere diner. And yet, you haven't uttered a single threat since we sat down,"

He averted his gaze to his coffee cup, "I don't think I need to threaten you,"

"How come?"

"Because you didn't try to stop me," he looked back at her, his piercing dark eyes boring into her, "People see us coming they run and hide, you didn't,"

Vera wasn't sure whether to take that as a compliment, nevertheless she tried to relax, "Well, you stole from my ex boss. Little turd deserved it,"

"Happy to help," he simpered, "Anything else you want to know?"

She folded her arms over her chest, "How'd you find me?"

He began to laugh, "Your ex boss is very salty. I walked in the next day and he wouldn't stop going off about how you 'screwed him royally'. I'm paraphrasing, of course,"

"Of course," she sighed, "So much for that reference letter,"

Vera thought she feel some sort of satisfaction, knowing she'd caught him in a lie. Any rational human being would toss their coffee at him and storm out, but Vera wasn't one to make rational decisions. In fact, up until this point, she found she had been enjoying his company.

"So, what happens here?" she asked, expecting him to lay out some sort of bargain for her continued silence. Or, "Do we part ways never to speak again? Or do you drive me out to the middle of the desert and have me dig my own dirt nap?"

"What are you --? What? No," Remington shook his head, "Think what you want, but I don't hurt people. I may rough 'em up a little but we always agreed to never let it go too far,"

"Who's we?" she asked.

Remington stopped himself before he could spill more, smiling sheepishly, "I think I've told you enough for today,"

Vera huffed back, "Fine. In that case," she looked at the time again, "You can use our last twenty minutes to drive me home,"

Despite her light interrogation, Eva couldn't say she was scared of Remington. Underneath that ratty balaclava he was charming, boyish, though she supposed that was the point. He was the last person she'd expect to full on rob a bank. Nevertheless, she wasn't a snitch and she didn't want to get involved in his business, so she assured him that she wasn't going to talk about it.

She directed him to her general neighbourhood, not quite to the shelter as she wasn't sure he could trust him fully, yet.

"You can stop here," she pointed him to the corner, and Remington pulled over dutifully. Remington glanced around the neighbourhood; it was a bit lower class, nevertheless home to some smaller start up businesses and questionable characters on the sidewalks.

"This is where you live?" he looked up at the condemned building in front of them.

"I live down the road," she told him as she unbuckled herself.

"I can drive you to your door," he offered.

She glowered back at him, "And I can also streak down Sahara Avenue, doesn't mean I will,"

"You still don't trust me?" he smirked.

"Of course not. Haven't you seen The Italian Job?" she hopped out of his car.

"The Michael Caine one or the Mark Wahlberg one?" he asked.

Vera stopped to lean down at the open window, she tried to bite back her bashful grin, "Thank you for the coffee, and the necklace. And for not killing me," she whispered at the end.

"Don't mention it," he smiled back. He called her back as she started to walk away, "Hey! What're you doing tomorrow?"

Vera glanced back at him quizzically, "Job hunting. Why?"

"You ever been on the monorail?" he asked.

She shook her head, "No. Again; why?"

"Because it's the best way to see Vegas, in my opinion, anyway," he asked, "Why don't you come meet me at the MGM station tomorrow? About one o'clock?"

She crossed her arms, "What makes you think I'll actually take precious time out of my day to meet up with a career criminal for a train?" she asked.

"Because I'm cute?" he beamed back.

Much to her chagrin, Vera smiled back. Not that she wanted to give him the satisfaction, either, but she relented, "Fine. Tomorrow at one o'clock. I'll see if I can make it,"

"You gonna' give me your number?" he asked.

"Why?"

"In case you can't make it,"

She scoffed back, "Why don't we see whether or not I show up and that will be your answer?" she suggested.

"Deal," he nodded, "I look forward to tomorrow,"

"We'll see," she simpered back, and she began to tread backwards, "Bye Remington,"

He ignited the engine on his car again, the machinery on the hood roared to life, "Get home safe, Vera!"

She started walking to her corner, out of the corner of her eye still watching the black Chevrolet as it peeled into the street. He gave her a last honk before he drove away, neither of them aware of the huge smile the other had on their face.

The Las Vegas monorail was crawling with people, there would be concerns if it wasn't, of course. Business people, tourists, security guards and casino goons frequented the train that stretched across the major main strip of Vegas. While it wasn't the most exciting thing to do in the city, it was a small start, and Remington stared anxiously at the time as he waited for Vera.

One o'clock finally hit.

He searched for her in a sea of expressionless faces, the rational part of him figuring she had no reason to come and meet him. He was a bank robber after all, she had probably taken the time to talk herself out of it. From what she'd told him, what would he have to offer her, anyway?

Remington looked across the station platform again, then he looked back at the time. One o'three. As disappointed as he was, he wouldn't let himself be surprised, either.

However, just as he turned on his heel to leave, he stopped when he nearly came nose-to-nose with Vera. She was clearly startled by his sudden turn, nevertheless she gave him a kind smile as he relaxed on the spot, his spirit began to rise.

"Hey," he greeted her.

"Hi,"

"You came," it was more of statement than a question.

She shrugged back simply, glancing at her ratty converse and threaded shorts, "There's always time for job hunting, right?"

"Right," he smiled. He stepped aside so they could start for the platform, "Shall we?"

[sleekervae]

The Neighbour [4.3]

Masterlist

A/N: Thanks again for your patience, everyone! Doing my best to keep my head up and the inspiration flowing

DM to be tagged

@boxofsparklingmuses @sinmatic @mndsxarts @rottingerotic @liilliiana

--

The last time Eva had seen Theo, he was ten years old. A lanky, pasty little thing with shaggy hair and big sunken eyes, just like his dad. But he had his mother's nose, her strong bone structure, and it was clear to anyone that the pair were related. He was a bit taller now, still lanky, and he resembled something of a wet rat as he sat in the damp mud. He looked up at her with just as much surprise that she found him.

"Theo?" she wondered allowed.

He sighed quietly, "Hi Eva," he mumbled.

"What're you doing out here?" she asked.

The young boy shrugged listlessly, "I don't know. I didn't feel like sitting in there," he replied.

Eva wasn't sure what had come over her, but she could look into that boy's eyes and recognize the fear within him; whether it be for their mom or generally being in this house. He was probably no stranger to how his parents got together, considering how brash she had reacted at her graduation. He was hiding out here just like she had been.

"... Do you wanna come sit under the awning? It'll be a bit drier," she offered.

"I'm okay," he shook his head.

Eva sighed to herself, "Then, can I sit with you?"

He glanced at her again, surprised this time, but he agreed anyway. He moved over so she could sit. The roots and dirt were damp and sludgy beneath her, and she tried to sit on the actual tree as much as possible to save her jeans. Nonetheless, she sat with the young tween in silence at first, just listening to the rain patter in the grass.

"I understand why you're out here, you know," she said, "I know this is all really scary, and you probably love your mom a lot. But you know... I just saw her, she looks... she looks okay," she wasn't sure why she was trying to comfort this boy, but hell, she wasn't a monster.

"I know, I talked to her last night," he mumbled.

"So, why are you out here? Too many grown ups in one room?" she tried to joke.

Theo shrugged, staring at her with dark blue eyes that almost matched her shade, "I thought you wouldn't want to see me," he admitted.

"What?" though she wished she didn't know the answer.

"Well, after your graduation, and you yelled at mom and you just didn't even acknowledge us. I thought you might hate us -- or me, I guess," he explained, "And you know, she was sick and you weren't picking up her calls and whatever..."

Guilt riddled up her spine, she ought to have known the consequences of her actions would come back to bite her in the butt. Eva shook her head.

"Theo, my problems with my -- with our mom are between us. They have nothing to do with you, I swear," she assured.

"Then why were you so mean to me and my dad?" he asked.

"Because I was really angry. And that's not a good excuse," she sighed, already feeling her hair becoming damp and heavy, "But I shouldn't have taken it out on you and your dad, I admit it. You did nothing to warrant any of this. But you also have to understand that our mom did something really hurtful, not just to my dad but to me and my siblings,"

Theo nodded, "Your sister said you're not talking to your mom,"

"Yeah, I haven't," Eva admitted, "I have this theory that every problem that I have, and every person who pisses me off, I can just uproot myself and cut them off with no consequence. I was building a new life in California without truly realizing how my leaving affected my family,"

Theo was quiet for a little while, his eyes stayed averted to the soggy grass, it almost seemed as though Eva wasn't sitting beside him. All she could hear was the rain battering down around them and she tried to rub at her arms to ward off the chills racing up her body. Theo sighed softly, then.

"I wish I could run away," he said.

"Why?" Eva asked.

He shook his head, staring out into space, "I just do,"

"Is it because of all of this hospital stuff?"

"... I think my parents are gonna' get a divorce,"

Eva certainly hadn't been expecting that. She stared hard at the teenager, processing her disbelief, "What?"

"Dad caught mom on the phone with some guy she works with and I heard them fighting about it," he explained, "She promised over and over that she wouldn't talk to him again, but then I caught her on the phone again and she made me promise up and down not to tell dad. I mean, if this wasn't as big a deal as she said, she wouldn't make me swear not to tell, right?"

A sickening sensation of deja vu overwhelmed her, "Oh my God," she muttered, "Stupid bitch,"

Theo looked to her tentatively, "That's what happened to you, right? She left your dad for mine?"

Eva shook her head; if she didn't need to throw up before, she certainly did now. What hurt more was that Theo was around her age when the first cycle happened, and she knew what was coming for this kid. He didn't deserve her anger, but he certainly didn't deserve their mother's infidel tendencies.

"Yeah, it kinda' happened like that," she nodded, "You never told your dad?"

"She got sick before I could," Theo replied, "And it didn't seem like a good time. I hate what she did, but I don't want her to die. Is that wrong?"

"No. At the end of the day she's still your mom," Eva sighed, "But she had no right to put that responsibility on you. That's bullshit -- sorry,"

"It's fine. She had no right to do that to you, either," he said, "Do you still love her?"

The simple answer was no, because she hadn't spoken to her in years. However, she had secured a flight home within weeks to come and help her, knowing fully well she didn't have to do that. Despite how flighty her mother was, she was still her mom, she still loved her. And that was the fucking worst.

"I do," she sighed, "I don't want to, but she's still my mom. And I guess I had to come back and face her at some point," she nudged him gently with her shoulder, "You know, we could go in and face her together?"

Theo glanced at her with unease, "Do I have to talk to her about the other guy?"

"No. Not yet," she replied, "But we're just going to worry about the things that we can control," she stood up and dusted the mud off her pants, holding out her hand to him, "You ready?"

With a little hesitation at first, Theo reached for Eva's hand and she pulled him to his feet. She was startled to find her had reached her height now, he was only a little thing last she saw him. But then he did get his height from his dad, that much was clear. They shared the same nose, cheekbones, and the same stormy shade of blue eyes.

"Let's go,"

On the sunnier side of the coast, Pluto had slumped himself under the window, trying to get some sleep amongst the noise. Pepper was beside him, curled up and not giving much a care for what was going on around them. Remington was none the wiser, feeling a pulsing pressure at the forefront of his head as he stared blankly at the piano keys.

"I give up," he grumbled, "Let's cancel the album and fuck off the Maldives for a while,"

Chris rolled his eyes at his desk, spinning around in his chair, "C'mon man, you can't think that way. We've done a lot of work, already!"

"He's just frustrated," Sebastian sighed from the couch, "We can move on to another track for now,"

"Until we loop back to this one and stall out again," Emerson replied, leaning over his drum set.

Chris was baffled in his seat, his long legs splayed out across the floor, "I can't believe what I'm hearing. You guys are burned out already?"

"To be fair, Seb is cooking all of Thanksgiving dinner," Remington said, glaring at his big brother, "And he's not letting us help,"

"Do you even know how to stuff a turkey? Or make the stuffing for turkey?" Sebastian replied.

"We would if you wanted to teach us," Emerson said.

"That involves you getting up before eleven," Sebastian shot back.

"Okay, I've heard enough," Chris stood up, waving at the boys, "I know you guys are probably stressed, you're tired, there's still a lot going on. But don't let go of why we're doing this," he grabbed Remington's notebook, "This song is the pinnacle for what this album will look like, it has parts of each of you chopped up and sautéed together like a nice osso bucco!"

Sebastian cocked a brow, "You don't chop up osso bucco," he pointed out.

"You know what I mean. C'mon," he pointed to Remington and Emerson, "Emerson, get on the piano. Remington, go to the mic. Sebastian, set the metronome,"

The boys switched accordingly, Emerson getting comfy at the piano and Remington standing behind the mic set. He jumped up and down a few times, trying to get himself back into the zone.

"Now listen to me," Chris took him by the shoulders, "Clear your mind, everything is good right now. Focus on what this piece of music represents to you. Don't force it, just let it go," Chris was right, they had worked too damn hard to burn out now.

So Remington was patient, listening to Emerson break into the beginning chords in time with the metronome. The sample was a beautiful bar of notes he'd compiled and slaved over for nearly half a decade, and he was proud of his and his brothers' composition of it. He tried to relax, taking Chris' advice to think about what this song meant to him, what it meant to his brothers, his mom, their fans, and Eva, of course.

“Am I being ridiculous?” she asked. 

“No,” he replied swiftly, “If it was me I’d be uncomfortable, too. But you have been so brave up to this point, if you just – close your eyes, take some deep breathes, you’ll be alright,”

God, he missed her so much. He knew that she was okay though, and if she was here she'd be filling him with as much encouragement as she could; she'd probably have a few unique ideas of her own, too. The more he thought about it, the closer the pre-chorus came to its edge, there was this reinvigoration that flooded through Remington, and as he opened his mouth the next line came out so naturally...

"Close your eyes and exit life tonight You'll be just fine, you'll be alright It's time we start escaping Fever dream, the lights are fading"

Emerson kept playing, riffing off of what he could from his brother's improv, though it was hard for him to not lose his concentration. Sebastian and Chris were sitting back in awe as he sang, and Chris was so happy he'd remembered to record the voice note for their archives. Every word and riff sounded so fluid, just as though it was all meant for that particular song.

It was perfect.

"Take my hand to Neverland, you'll see We can be free, we can be anything Just you and me Fever dream, the lights are fading"

The piano came to a sharp close but Emerson stayed on the bench, his dreary eyes blown wide. Sebastian was sat back in complete disbelief, feeling as though he'd found the missing piece to the jigsaw puzzle he'd lost long ago. And Chris had his hands tangled in his crazy mop of hair, completely blown away at the damn bursting to letting the breakthrough overwhelm them all.

Remington pulled the headset off, looking at each of the guys tentatively. None of them had said a word up until that point.

"... Was that okay?" he asked.

Chris didn't say a word at first; instead he got to his feet, strided over to the younger singer, took him by the shoulders and placed a sloppy, wet kiss on his cheek.

"That was brilliant. Fucking brilliant!" he exclaimed, "You fucking did it, Remington!"

Relieved but still unsure, Remington looked to his brothers for their opinion.

"Fucking sick," Emerson gaped.

"Where did that come from?" Sebastian asked, "It's taken us months to get a chorus!"

"I don't know," Remington shrugged, "I just relaxed and it came so naturally,"

Chris slapped him on the back, "That is exactly what Oprah calls an 'ah ha' moment. Beautiful! Hold on, lemme' get the voice note!" and he went to grab his phone.

"We can fix up the guitar riff for the chorus but I think it's perfect," Sebastian nodded.

"Should we do it again?" Remington asked.

"Absolutely, this time take it from the chorus and just let it flow into the next verse," Chris directed.

An incredible weight had been lifted off of Remington's shoulders as the band spent the afternoon working and redrafting their anthemic new masterpiece.

None of them were the wiser to Pluto sniffing around the front yard, having slipped his limber body out of the open window without anyone noticing. He was sniffing around the bushes, picking up on the small rodents and bugs that had passed by, or the occasional big dog that had stopped to mark their territory on the street.

The pale tabby, ever so curious, crawled out between the fence and found himself in the middle of the sidewalk. He looked up across the street, registering enough to know that the building across from his was where he lived. He also noted the little bird sitting up on the balcony, minding his own business...

Pepper meanwhile had woken up from her brief nap, rolling over and perplexed to find Pluto wasn't beside her. She could smell his scent above her, locking her gaze to the window and she knew what the tabby had done.

Her piercing, high pitched bark echoed through the house, over and over again. Emerson called for her to quiet down but Pepper was unrelenting. She ran over to the humans, barking over and over again and trying to crawl up Emerson's leg for attention. He picked her up to coddle her but she still wouldn't relent, trying to squirm away.

"What's wrong with her?" Sebastian asked.

"I don't know, I've never seen her like this," Emerson replied, setting her down. Pepper took off in the direction of the window and doubled back, zipping back and forth over and over again on her tiny legs.

"Is she trying to get us to follow her?" Chris asked.

Remington chuckled, "She's having her Lassie moment. What is it, girl? Is Timmy stuck in the well?"

Pepper kept barking, so Emerson decided to indulge her. They followed the teacup Pomeranian towards the front window and she tried to crawl up on her hind legs, attempting to crawl up to the window.

"Does she want to go outside?" Chris suggested.

Emerson opened the door for her and Pepper darted out, continuing to bark and jump at the gate. As he walked out, Remington suddenly realized that he hadn't seen Pluto; he hadn't seen him in a while.

He looked up at Eva's complex and put two and two together, "Fuck, Pluto ran away,"

Remington darted out of the yard before it could register with the other guys, though they followed him none the less. He knew Pluto missed Eva, and the damn cat probably figured he would find her at her loft. God forbid anything happened to Pluto.

"Pluto!" he called as he ran into the courtyard, "Pluto!" the guys called out with him, with Sebastian throwing in a "Here pussy!" time and again.

But then they heard it, a deep, sharp hissing followed by frantic shouting and a bird furiously chirping.

"You get away from my bird you little murderer!" Candace had appeared on her terrace, swinging a broom at Pluto as he balanced on Eva's railing. Her next swing smacked across the cat and sent him flying off the terrace, and Remington was helpless to watch as he plummeted into the bushes below with a blood curdling yowl.

Remington dove in after him, not caring for the brambles poking and scratching his arms open as he searched desperately for Pluto, "Holy shit! Pluto! Pluto! Where are you, boy?" Emerson followed him to try and help.

Chris was at a loss for words, trying to wrap his head around how the fuck they got from an 'ah ha' moment to crazy bird lady, while Sebastian stared up at Candace in shock and he started screaming at her, "What the fuck, lady! Are you fucking nuts!"

Candace peered over her terrace and she shouted back, "I told that girl! I told her to keep her cat away from my bird or there would be consequences!"

"He wasn't even on your balcony!" Sebastian shouted back, "He was just trying to go home!"

Candace waved the broom around, her hair curlers flying loose as she screamed, "He was trying to eat my precious little bird! And you're all trespassing!" Sebastian and Chris jumped back just as she hurled the broom at them. Remington and Emerson shuddered at the sudden impact behind them. But Remington moved back another bramble branch, and there he found poor Pluto struggling to get to his feet. Neighbours meanwhile began to poke their heads out, curious and alarmed to the commotion outside.

"Shit," Remington was careful to pull Pluto out without doing much more damage. He was covered in dirt and pieces of bramble and his ears twitched up and down, he curled up into Remington's chest but his claws flexed in and out, one of his front paws were curled up underneath him. Remington's panic went into hyperdrive.

"Is he okay?" Chris asked, both him and Sebastian staying a foot out of the courtyard.

"He hurt his leg," he huffed.

"I guess cats don't always land on their feet, then," Emerson muttered.

They all jumped when they heard a sharp smash behind them. Candace had thrown a terra cotta pot them and she continued to yell and cuss, "Get that fucking fleabag out of here!" and she hurled another pot at them. They all jumped back.

"Holy fuck! She's crazy!" Emerson gaped.

Sebastian scoffed, "Yeah, and she just tried to attack us on public property!" he called up to her.

"You all get out of here or I'll call the cops!" Candace screamed.

"Don't worry! The cops will be called, alright!" Sebastian snapped back.

"Forget the cops!" Remington exclaimed, "We gotta' get Pluto to a vet!"

Eva's hand shook as she grasped the door handle, pushing her way in and Theo followed sheepishly behind her. The whispered conversation came to a halt and both of their dads turned in their seats, unsure and skeptical as they found their rain-drenched kids in the threshold.

"Dear God, what happened to you two?" Eva's father asked.

"It's very clear what happened to them, Ivan," Julian replied.

Eva sniffled into her sleeve, biting her tongue from remarking with snark. Instead she took a deep breath as she stood before them, her eyes narrowing at the tablet sitting propped against her father's books. Her mother was still on screen tied up in tubes and bathed in bright light, a slimmer version of whom she once was.

"Can I have a minute with her?" she asked the fathers. They both looked to each other unsure, with Ivan turning to the tablet for Lydia's approval. Eva refrained from rolling her eyes.

"Is that okay with you?"

"Of course," Lydia nodded.

Julian began to stand, "Alright, we'll give you a --"

"Don't bother," Eva took the tablet off the table, "We'll be in your study, Dad,"

Her father watched her, trying to keep the fretfulness off his face as Eva disappeared down the hallway, he grimaced in his seat as he heard the door to his study close.

Julian turned to his son, "What did you two talk about out there?"

Theo simply shook his head, his soaked hair swinging from side to side, "Nothing much,"

In the closed confines of the study, the first thing that hit Eva was the smell of hot paper out of the printer, mingled with the bitter stench of her dad's humidifier for his cigars. She sat in his chair and placed the tablet on the desk, staring at the pixelated visage of her mother. Lydia smiled endearingly at her.

"Hi Eva," she spoke tentatively.

Eva took another deep breath, "Hi,"

"It's been too long," she mired, "You look beautiful!"

"Thanks. How long have you been... sick?" Eva asked slowly.

Lydia shrugged, "About a year. It only got super bad the last few months. I appreciate you coming out, Eva,"

"Suppose I had to come home at some point," Eva replied, "I just didn't think you'd be in the city when I had,"

"I haven't been flying -- for obvious reasons," Lydia chuckled, "Did you see Theo?"

"Yeah, we talked," she nodded, "He was sitting out in the rain,"

Lydia's eyes went wide, "Well dear God, what was he doing that for?"

"He's scared for one. His mom is dying," Eva pointed out.

"Oh please, I'm not dying," she replied, reaching up to fix her hair. Eva noted how she wasn't looking at her so much as she was watching her own appearance in the box in the corner.

"You're not dying?" Eva popped a brow, "Because Dad certainly made it seem like the opposite when he called me,"

Lydia rolled her eyes, "Huh. Leave it to Ivan to over exaggerate this stuff,"

"They might have to cut me open to give you my kidney. You call that exaggerating?" she scoffed.

"I call it proof that you still love your mother," Lydia replied.

"Of course I still love you," Eva grumbled, "Whether or not I like you is a different story altogether,"

"Eva please, you honestly still can't be mad about this. It's been ten years,"

She sloughed it off as though she was a kid with a bad report card and being nagged by her parent to do better. She was so blasé about everything, and despite it all Eva tried to keep her cool.

"It hasn't been ten years for Theo. His own personal hell might be starting," she snapped back.

"What are you talking about?" Lydia asked.

"You know what I'm talking about. You're having another affair, Lydia," Eva confronted her outright, doing her best to keep her voice low. Her anger however was boiling steadily in her gut.

Lydia seemed taken aback, doing her all to collect her composure from the outburst, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on Lydia. Of all the people you wanna' play dumb with, don't pick me," Eva huffed, "Theo told me about the other guy. What does he do for the airline, another pilot?"

"Eva, you're being ridiculous. And stop calling me 'Lydia', I'm your mother," Lydia replied sharply.

"My mother?" she scoffed back, "My mother would've at least have the decency to call and ask me if she could bring her second family to my college graduation,"

"Your father said it was fine," she argued.

Eva's fists clenched, "Because like it or not, Dad still loves you! For the life of me I don't understand why!" she exclaimed.

"Your father and I still have a lot of mutual respect for each other," Lydia replied hastily, in the background there was an incessant beeping that grew quicker and quicker in beat.

"If you had any respect for Dad then you would've left him first, then started the affair with Julian," Eva countered, "And you clearly don't have any respect or regard for him because you're doing it again. I'm not an idiot Lydia, and neither is your son!"

"Okay, okay, enough of this!" Lydia snapped, "I am in the hospital with kidney failure for God sake, I don't want to talk about this with you!"

Before Eva could refute a nurse came over to Lydia, clearly having set off whatever device she was hooked up to to track and calm her heart rate. She assured the nurse she was fine, smiling graciously at her.

"I'm just talking to my daughter, this is her," she panned the camera towards the nurse, dressed up in full gown, mask, and gloves. She barely flitted a glance Eva's way as she readjusted settings on the machine and went off to her next duty.

Eva was appalled. Her mother was hooked up to machines of all sorts, trying to defend her own disgusting actions and meanwhile was showing off her kid to some random nurse who -- very clearly -- couldn't give two shits.

"Are you okay?" Eva asked as the camera focused back on Lydia.

"No, you're setting my heart monitor off," she groaned, "Why don't you pass the tablet back to your Dad?"

"No, I mean are you okay psychologically?" Eva asked.

"Well, of course I am! I've been locked up here for weeks now, practically surrounded by Armageddon. You'll forgive me if I'm a little testy," Lydia shook her head, "Evalina, think of me what you will but I am still your mom. I did everything I could to be a good mother to you, Greg, and Magda. And course I still love and respect your dad, you think if I didn't you would be here?"

"Excuse me?" Eva narrowed her eyes at her.

"You are a refined, beautiful, intelligent young woman. You clearly inherited it all from me," Lydia began to smile, it wasn't comforting so much as she began to creep Eva out, "I remember everyone we'd pass on the streets, they'd stop and gush about how beautiful you are; how you looked so much like me,"

Eva skidded back in her chair, feeling as though the tablet was a lecherous black hole that was threatening to suck her into whatever delusion Lydia had entered.

"Okay, Lydia --"

"Wait, wait Eva. I know we've had our differences, but even you have to admit I was a good mother, right?" she wasn't sure Lydia was asking her or assuring herself.

"What?" Eva gawked.

"I was a good mother to you kids. I took care of you, put food on the table, helped dress you and take you to school when I could," she replied.

"You fucking left us, Lydia," Eva gaped, blinking back the tears that were starting to spring, "There's divorced parents and then there's just not showing up for your weekend with the kids,"

"I know, I know. But I won't make those mistakes with Theo," she seemed to sure as she spoke, "I told Theo how it would be, and I promised him I'm not going anywhere. And thanks to you, I can keep that promise,"

Eva wasn't sure whether Lydia was purely delusional or her narcissism truly knew no bounds. A sharp shiver raced up her spine, recognizing that trying to reason with this woman was as fruitless now as it had been years ago.

Like floodgates, the inner recesses of her brain opened up and Eva could remember all the same conversation Lydia had with her, just as the affair with Julian was starting. She would promise and assure each of her kids that no matter what happened, she loved them all and would always be there for them. She remembered so clearly the way her father beat himself up after she left, sending himself and the siblings in a deep, spiralling depression.

"If you love that boy as much as you claim you do, then you'll be honest with your husband. The one you ditched us for to go be with," Eva said, trying to will her backbone to stay composed against her.

Lydia seemed to be looking right through her as she refuted, "What did Theo say to you?"

"He said enough," Eva assured her, "You need to be honest with them, Lydia. What you couldn't give me, you could at least give to Theo,"

"I have been honest with Theo," she assured, "He is going to be just fine. Just like you've been,"

Eva shook her head, "Have I been fine, though?"

"Of course you have! You have your own business, you moved to California, apparently you're dating some rockstar, too," Lydia scoffed at that, "You better be careful with him, famous people don't tend to be the most committed,"

Eva spoke before her brain could catch up, though if anyone had asked her, she couldn't even feign regret, "Like pilots, right?"

[sleekervae]

Dripping | Remington x Vera

Masterlist

A/N: Happy Friday everybody. My depression streak has reemerged, but I'm trying my best to come out of it though. I wrote and edited this after the first instalment and it's been kinda nice to focus on something new; kind of wanna' treat it as a series of short pieces as opposed to a longer whole. So if you wanna' you can consider this part two.

Warnings: smut, pure and unadulterated smut

--

When the crew weren't heisting and pocketing jewels, they had to lay low. And the best way for them to lay low was stay stuck in middle-wage, go no where jobs so they wouldn't blow their cover. It would still be a while before they could move the diamonds and get their payout, anyway.

Vera worked ten hours a day, six days a week at a higher-end retail boutique in the city. She loved to pick through the products they'd ship in, as well as listen in on some of the events the upper-class ladies would gossip about. They had no idea that they just added to The Bastards' list of probably targets.

She was the last person to lock up and leave on a dusty weekday evening, changed out of her dress shirt and slacks and comfy in shorts and a band shirt. The back way of the strip was a quieter, not very popular way for tourists to take of course, though Vera had learned long ago it made for a better shortcut for her to catch her bus home. However, on nights like tonight, when the prospect of the bus just didn't sit well with her, Vera was delighted when she stepped into the empty street and spotted Remington and his car.

The headlights cut through the dimming desert horizon, illuminating him from behind. His long black hair fell tousled around his shoulders, matching the worn Iron Maiden muscle-tee he wore so proudly. Remington lit up as soon as he saw her and he hopped off the car hood.

"Hi," she drawled as he walked towards her, "What're you doing here?"

"I got off at the garage early and thought to myself -- you know what?" he replied, his dashing smile plastered to his face, "My girl does so much for me, I should really go and pick her up from work tonight,"

"That's very sweet of you," Vera smiled. He took her by the waist and pulled her in for a kiss, closing out as much space as he could between them. Vera wound her arms around his neck, her fingers threading through his hair and the sharp smell of engine oil and his cologne stung at her nose.

"I missed you," he whispered against her lips, his hand slipping down to her butt. He gave her an affectionate squeeze and Vera shivered.

"Was it really just me you missed?" she giggled.

"I missed all of you," before she knew it, Remington lifted her up and placed her on the car hood, nearly falling into her as he slammed his lips against hers. He revelled in hearing her moan against him.

"Let's go," he murmured softly, stepping back so Vera could hop down. She hopped into the shot gun and he started the car, pulling into the street and barrelling down the road. The Vegas strip dissipated into the desert horizon, the rocky sand filtered in the gorgeous hue of golden hour.

The windows were cracked and a Chase Atlantic record was playing through the radio set. Vera loved feeling her long hair bluster through the wind, but even more so she loved watching Remington drive. He was always so concentrated, his knuckles were tight around the steering wheel and he sometimes liked to sing along to the music. Vera always mentioned that if they'd gone down a different path of life, he would've done so well as a singer. He didn't half believe her sometimes, but he couldn't deny he did like to sing.

Vera's daydreaming was interrupted however, she looked down when she felt a gentle tickle crawl up her leg. His palm was warm on her thigh, his thumb gently caressing her soft skin. Another aspect she admired about Remington was his ability to multitask, her excitement hiking as his hand crawled further up her thigh. Vera was tentative as she looked up at him, it was clear he was trying to bite back his smug smirk. She shook her head.

"Remi,"

"Yes, Vera?"

"... Pull over, please?" she mewled like a bratty kitten, her top teeth butting down on her lip.

His smile held the glimmer of the devil, his hand squeezed soothingly over her inner thigh. He obliged her with glee and pulled over into the desert. He drove a little ways away from the highway, being sure no lookie-loos would catch them.

Remington lit up a cigarette while Vera raided the glove box to flick through his stash of mini liquor bottles. He always liked having a few on hand should the occasion to celebrate arise, even if it was as small as making it through a tough work day. Vera stopped however when she found a velvet bag tucked off to the side, a sharp tinkling emanating as she nudged it.

"What is this?" she asked as she pulled it out.

Remington nearly choked on his puff of smoke, coughing and waving his smoke billow away, "Fuck. I forgot about that. I wanted to surprise you," he admitted.

Vera eyed him skeptically as she drew the drawstrings apart, her eyes blew out wide as she pulled out the sparkling jewelry piece. The Warhol necklace, twinkling and casting iridescent patterns across the car interior.

Her breath hitched in her throat, "How -- oh my God! Remington!" she laughed, somewhat baffled but she knew how brazen Remington liked to be. He smirked coyly.

"Don't tell Sebastian," he giggled, "C'mon, turn around,"

Her eyes widened, "Are you serious?"

"Yeah! C'mon!" he took the necklace and Vera turned in her seat, holding up her hair. She shivered as the diamond crackled across her neck, the cool a welcome relief to the thick humidity slick on skin. Vera pulled down the visor mirror to admire the gorgeous piece. It clashed with her high-neck t-shirt but she couldn't find much to complain about, it was easily the most beautiful thing she had ever worn.

Remington meanwhile sat back in his seat, admiring her natural beauty being accentuated with the dripping jewelry. The unease in her eyes told him she was unsure, but he would do everything in his power to convince her how stunning she looked.

"What do you think?" she asked, biting her lip now for an overall different reason.

He shook his head in near disbelief, "You are so fucking beautiful," he gaped.

Vera broke out into a blushing grin, "Yeah?"

"Yes," he mired, "But then you make everything beautiful,"

"Oh, shut up," Vera giggled, stroking her fingers across the diamonds, "The guys are gonna' kill you if they found out,"

"Emphasis on if," he took another drag from his cigarette, "Because if I have it my way, they're not gonna' find out,"

"Oh?" she popped a brow, "And what does your way entail, exactly?"

Her smirk grew dark, licking his lips hungrily as he crushed the cigarette swiftly in his hand and tossed it out the window, "You sitting on me, for one," he replied coyly.

"Which part of you?" Vera smirked back.

He swore he would melt on the spot when she smiled like that. He gasped dramatically, "Naughty girl!" he moved across the console to kiss her, needy and breathless as he seemingly drew the air from her lungs.

In an instant her hands were in his hair, his thick locks curling through his fingertips and she scratched across his scalp. He pulled away from her momentarily so he could move his seat back and give her plenty of room to crawl over and straddle his lap. He was becoming hard beneath her and her need for him to take her grew with each passing second.

Remington moved his hands along her waist, slipping under her shirt and roaming across her warm skin. He made quick work to clip off her bra and moving to massage her soft boobs. Vera had always been a little self conscious of them, she always thought they were too saggy and too small. Her opinion on her body changed after she met Remington, he worshipped every single inch of her body, told her over and over again how beautiful she was. She supposed it was a concept of repetition; hearing positive reinforcement over and over again you may begin to believe it. Feeling his caresses across her burning skin also certainly helped.

He looked up at her through dark lashes, lifting her shirt and pressing his lips to the lowest part of her ribs. She gasped as he bit her softly before licking across the same spot. Her hands left his hair to reach behind her to unfasten the necklace.

Remington pulled away from her, "What're you doing?" he asked.

"I'm taking off the necklace," Vera replied matter-of-factly.

He shook his head, reaching to pull her hands away, "Don't, leave it,"

She thought he was joking at first, chuckling under her breath, "I have half of last week's lottery on my chest, are you out of your mind?"

There was this wolfish grin he aced every time, something that was very much his, and it made Vera shiver with desire every time, "Absolutely," he pulled her closer to him, shifting so his erection bumped against her thigh, "I'm so fucking lucky right now,"

The prospect of wearing this million dollar necklace frightened her a little, knowing they had to sell it off in a few months. At the same time, it was so exciting. Vera was becoming lightheaded, either from the heat or the adrenaline and power coursing through her but she didn't care. She didn't hesitate as Remington pulled her shirt over her head, careful not to tangle up the diamonds. She shivered again as the cold stones rested on her bare chest, a sharp, delicious contrast to his warm lips wrapping around her nipple. Her own hands made quick work of his belt and unfastened his jeans.

He swore he may have jumped out of his skin as she grasped his length, shivering when her tongue debuted the first stroke under his ear lobe. It was that special spot she knew so well, the intoxicating taste of his skin crawled over her taste buds.

"You're so good to me," his grin was lopsided as she whispered in his ear between kisses, her teeth biting at his earlobe.

"You're so quiet now," she chuckled softly, "So full of talk until I touch you," She refused to move her hand, just warm skin playing on warm skin and keeping her teasing delightfully playful on his erection.

Sneaky whispers made him aware of how amazing it would be to feel himself slip down her throat. He moaned, loudly, his back rolling against the older leather seat.

His hand wrapped around her neck, squeezing gently as he pinned her against the steering wheel. Remington loved the devilish smile that mirrored his, the rings on his fingers made her shiver under his touch.

"The fuck do you think you're doing?" his lips brushed hers with every word he spoke, "Do you like making me suffer? 'Cause it's working, you little shit," his tone was serious, though his mellow, chesty chuckle made it far from a real scolding.

"Should I be sorry?" she pouted, her forehead resting against his.

His lashes tickled across her cheek as he murmured, "Absolutely not," though he pushed his hand over hers, still resting over his pulsing cock, "But if you don't do something about this you're going to be,"

Vera giggled like a brat, finally moving her hand up and down his throbbing length. She swallowed his relief-filled grunt with a hungry kiss, lips were swollen and tongues teased in between. His own hand slipped down her belly and to the zipper of her shorts. He wasted no time tracing over her panties, his desire fueled to feel her so wet already.

"How badly do you want this?" his lips pecked her jawline tenderly, one, two, four times in a row, "Tell me what you want," she nodded with a devious grin, squirming as she felt two fingers toy at the crease between her pussy and her inner thigh.

"I need you -- please, Remi," she begged into his mouth.

"Words, V. What do you need?" his teasing almost physically hurt, tantalizing her ear.

"I need you to fuck me," her voice fizzled out softly as her cheeks burned an overwhelmingly sweet red.

Remington tensed at the needy tone in her voice, his mind foggy with lust, "Yes ma'am,"

He loved watching her bite down on her lip as his fingers slithered under her panties and making circles over her clit. He had finally taken back his control, his wolfish grin enriched by an attractive chuckle.

He adored feeling her slick slip over him, almost as much as she loved his calloused fingers toying with her most sensitive parts. The friction was illicit, almost unreal. His eyes welcomed every single reaction and contortion her face made, the way she looked almost as if she was about to burst into pixie dust.

"Look at you, dripping wet," his whispers only incite more warmth to burn in her gut, and his eyes flitted to the necklace, "In every single way," she chuckled softly, feeling she was wet enough to create a puddle on his jeans, though he couldn't care less whether or not they were ruined. Like, at all.

He actually fucking loved her for it.

"I'll make you feel so good, they'll hear you from the strip," his voice dropped an octave, completely captivating as he squeezed her throat again. The pressure was sinfully delightful, her own work on his cock sloppy as she tried to keep her concentration sharp and her pace steady. The whole time, Remington imagined how pretty her mouth would look wrapped around his twitching cock.

"Stop with the teasing," her sharp tone made him wobbly.

The hand on her throat slipped to her nape and pulled her in for a kiss. She mourned his grasp until he pinched her thigh.

"Watch that tongue,"

Expert fingers knew exactly what she needed, to finally put her out of her misery. Remington took her by the hips, helping her discard her shorts and underwear. He too removed his own shirt, loving every second of finally feeling her bare chest against his. He basked in every second, loving it just as much as Vera did. Probably more than she did.

Their proximity was such that at any moment she felt they may melt into one being. She could feel how his lips mimicked the arrival of a smile, swallowing her mewls, and she wished for so much more. She wasn't oblivious however to the ecstasy he experienced under her touch.

Despite his excitement, he did his best to control her stimulation. He had been too rough before and he'd hurt her back when they were young and still understanding the way their bodies reacted.

He adjusted until he had pushed his pants and boxers down his knees and she sat comfortably over his cock; his lips on her shoulder making up for any second she missed his touch.

"Remi, I need --"

"I know," she didn't have to tell him twice, not wasting another second as he brushed his length through her slick. He fought through his own euphoria to tease her just a little bit more, to bask in her sweat-slick skin rubbing against his own. And he loved watching her jaw slip open as he slid inside of her.

The well known, blissful sensation built up in her lower belly, expert fingers moving over her clit as she bouncing in his lap at a delicious pace. It burned in the best way possible, her walls contracting around him sent shockwaves up his spine. He kissed her chest, panting just beneath the glinting diamonds of that necklace. Their close still wasn't close enough for them.

"You gonna' come for me, baby?" he kept his fingers spinning steadily over her clit, so enamored with her heavy breathing, how her hair clung to her slick forehead as she nodded. His breath hitched as she squeezed around him, his cock sliding over that perfect spongy spot that palpitated around him, "You're so fucking hot, I can't wait to --"

Her sharp gasp cut him short, panting a flurry of yeses and she shook like a leaf in his lap. A blank delight ripped through her body as her orgasm coated his cock.

And he loved every second of it. His hips still rolled hungrily beneath her, his raspy voice mumbling sweet nothing that flitted past her ears in her haze. He leaned into her, his body shivering as he released an unrestrained groan and his own orgasm flooded through him. Vera could feel it, a white hot sensation filling her and a merciful whimper of breath on her chest brought her back to reality.

She collapsed into him, her head burying into his neck and his hand rubbed soothingly up and down her back. The silence that followed was cozy, the music still playing softly in the background.

They settled down together but Remington didn't have it in him to pull out of her yet. His thumb caressed under her lips, and he was smiling all of the sudden. That charming, boyish smile that she was still so enticed by.

He brushed the tip of his nose over hers, "I love you, Vera,"

"I love you, Remi," she smiled back.

Finally though, Vera had to pull off of him, she blushed hard as a hot mess slid out over her inner thighs and over his lap. Nevertheless, Remington reached down the side of the door to grab the tissue box he had ready -- silently confirming to her that he had had this evening planned -- and he cleaned her up with an admirable gentle touch. He had truly perfected making her feel gooey and dizzy inside, moments like these when he was so vulnerably real, so bluntly himself, he always reminded her of how much she truly loved him. She kissed him tenderly, the cascading diamonds swarming them in twinkly iridescence.

Not thirty minutes later, Remington's dusty chevrolet pulled into their driveway, both of them redressed and refreshed as best as they could manage. Vera had made sure to slip the necklace back in the velvet sack and she hid it in her bag, as sure enough Sebastian was in the front yard, firing up their grill for dinner. They both were praying he hadn't checked up on their safe.

"Well damn, it took you guys long enough," he gaped when he finally laid eyes on them.

Remington slammed his car door with a little flourish, following behind Vera up the walkway, "Traffic was shit," he replied simply.

Sebastian flitted his gaze between him and Vera, who of course feigned complete innocence as she hopped up the two-step porch.

"Yeah. They're still fixing the road for the Grand Prix in November," she added, the mouth-watering smell of burning charcoal wafting through the air, "What's for dinner?"

"Hamburgers and vegan sausages. You're welcome," he nodded to Remington.

The younger brother winked and clicked his tongue, "Sounds great! I'll whip up some potato salad,"

Sebastian glowered at him, "You don't know how to make potato salad," he pointed out.

"Fine, then I'll pull the McCain Super Fries outta' the freezer and call it a day," he took Vera by the hip and lead her inside, none the wiser to Sebastian shaking his head.

Vera made quick work to return the necklace to the safe, hoping and praying she had cleaned it out enough so nobody would be the wiser. She leaned against the wall when she finished, laughing in Remington's direction.

"Do you think he knows?" she asked quietly.

"That we fucked in the desert? Probably," he chuckled.

"About the necklace, smart ass!"

"He doesn't know," he assured her, coming to stand before her so she stayed put against the wall, "And nobody's ever gonna' know. Now, if they happened to hear how loud -- ow!" he giggled as she pinched his arm, "And I came to get you from work!" he gasped, feigning offense.

"Trust me," she pressed up on her toes, "I'm very grateful," she kissed him in between each word.

Remington took her in his arms, holding her close as he kissed her properly, happily. He couldn't even give a damn as he heard Emerson gag as he walked by. He loved Vera so openly, his heart burned from craving her and he relished in the fact that he couldn't have asked for a better partner.

[sleekervae]

The Neighbour [4.2]

Masterlist

A/N: Thank you all so much for your patience. As promised, here's the update!

Warnings: mentions of ghosts, panic attacks

DM if you wanna be tagged!

@boxofsparklingmuses @sinmatic @mndsxarts @rottingerotic @liilliiana

--

There was a constant pattering thundering in the halls, back and forth, back and forth. Remington awoke suddenly, his bleary eyes adjusting to his dark surroundings and his ears pricked at the odd sound he'd awoken to. There was a shuffling, like someone going up and down the stairs, over, and over, and over.

He had to be dreaming, he must've been. Then his rationality kicked in: it had to be the cat! Pluto had been so restless since Eva left, leave it to the little furry fucker to get the zoomies in the night and wake him up.

Remington grumbled as he slid out of bed, glancing sleepily as the cat slept soundly at the end of the bed and -- wait a minute. Pluto was still asleep on the bed? Remington had to do a double take, even more perplexed now than ever. Never the less, he shuffled to the doorway and peered down the hall. Emerson's bedroom door was still closed, maybe he'd gone down for a drink of water?

No, Emerson didn't wake up in the middle of the night. An atomic bomb could be going off and he would still be dead asleep.

He inhaled sharply, wandering down the hallway and he peered sheepishly down the staircase. There was a wondering thought that maybe -- cautiously -- Eva had come home without warning and wanted to surprise him in the middle of the night. Or maybe Sebastian and Larissa had gotten into it at three in the morning and he decided to let himself in to crash?

What is wrong with you? You were just dreaming.

But no, everything was eerily silent. Remington shook his head; he was sober as a judge so he knew he couldn't have been just seeing things. Perhaps he had been dreaming after all, he figured such as he went back to his room, rolling his eyes at his own nerves.

Everything always seemed creepier in the dark. His own house that he'd bought, decorated and slummed up in had become a frightening backdrop to a film noir. He imagined he had Eva waiting for him in his bed, maybe the Rebecca novel placed on the side table after she'd knocked out another chapter, or the credits for the Hitchcock movie they'd decided to watch rolling across his laptop screen because they'd fallen asleep.

She was probably fast asleep in her own childhood bedroom, he hoped she missed him as much as he did her.

He had reached the doorway to his bedroom when it happened again. A sudden, stark shuffle of steps running up and down, up and down. It was so faint but so clear. Remington turned briskly on his heel, the whispers of a white veil flickering in the corner of his eye before it disappeared. His heart leapt in his throat, he made haste to shut the door behind him and jump back into bed, disturbing Pluto's blissful sleep and he pulled the duvet over his head like a shivering child.

Eva had always hated hospitals. When she was seven years old, Magda had a swelling appendix and her father had decided to load all the kids up to rush the oldest sister to emergency. Her mother was chartering some flight and couldn't be reached, and because he had one severely sick child out of three to handle, the other two were basically left to their own devices while they awaited the doctor. She remembered somehow getting lost within the triage wing, seeing so many curtains pulled away to reveal dozens of people, bleeding profusely, groaning and moaning in pain, the most absurd and horrifying injuries that no child should ever witness at such an age.

It took too long for a nurse to notice her and bring her back to the children's wing of the hospital, but the trauma had already been inflicted. Since then, Eva had always been uncomfortable in any hospital wing, and she made sure to follow the signs accordingly so she never had to revisit the triage.

The fact that the general hospital was awash in covid patients, surrounded by doctors running around in what she could describe as space suits and wrapped tightly in scrubs and rubber bands. Not to she had to jump through hoops upon hoops to even go for her tests, just so they could ensure she nor anyone she'd come into contact with was sick, made the experience no easier.

She sat on a hospital bed, wrapped in a hospital gown and a fresh mask strapped over her face while she undergone an ultrasound, something to test the thickness of her veins to ensure her kidney would be a good fit. Her mother's doctor had come in, breezing past the whole operation and recovery process for a kidney transplant. All of the notes, the research she had done, none of it could prepare Eva for the stark terror coursing through her body, the cool gel on her skin from the ultrasound doing little to distract her.

"Ms. Kuznetsov?" the tech running the ultrasound peered over her, her dark, tired eyes peeking out between an N-95 mask and a hospital cap, "We're all finished. You can clean up and get dressed,"

"Okay," Eva scrambled quickly to her feet, anxious to wipe the gel off her abdomen and throw her clothes back on. The room was freezing, she supposed it had to be, smelling of sterile chemicals and latex. The tech had barely uttered two words to her, staring at her computer screen while Eva changed behind an old-fashioned divider. She had apologized earlier for the lack of privacy, but given the patient intake they had to make do with every inch of space they could afford.

"Your ultrasound's gonna' be sent to the lab and compared with Mrs. McCarthy's results, and we'll have your compatibility drawn up by the end of the week," she informed.

"It takes that long?" Eva's nerves beat her to the punch before her brain could catch up, "Um -- s-sorry,"

"It usually takes a few days, yes," the tech replied, monotone as a microwave and never taking her eyes off the screen, "The end of the week will be the earliest we get back to you. Our lab's a little backed up,"

"Of course," Eva replied.

The tech spoke up again, "What's your relationship to Lydia McCarthy?" she asked.

She sighed, trying not to let their air fall heavy through her nose, "She's my mother,"

The tech paused momentarily, the silence eerie to Eva, "Oh? Her chart indicates she only has a teenage son..." she replied.

Eva rolled her eyes, "Well, as far as I know, Mrs. Lydia Kuznetsov has three adult children," she disclaimed.

"I see," the tech said.

Eva put herself together and stepped out from the divider, anxious to get out of this room and find Greg somewhere in the hospital's parking lot. The tech dismissed her without another word and Eva swiftly tried to find her way out of the wing. Everything was quieter on this side of the hospital, drawing sharp comparison with the bustling emergency wing she had passed on her way over. Eva had never felt more like the main character in a viral sci-fi movie.

She wished that Remington was waiting for her on the other side, wishing desperately that she would see him in his car, his blonde hair peeking out under a toque and some random polish color chipped off of his nails. She could still pick off the way his eyes crinkled over his mask, hiding his gentle and boyish smile that always calmed her down.

There were no visiting hours allowed, but the hospital would set up her mother with a video service so she could talk with her family later. Her family being her husband and son, as Eva still wasn't ready for a full reunion.

Greg was still parked in the same spot Eva left him at, drumming away on the steering wheel to the Red Hot Chili Peppers that echoed within the car. Eva knocked against the window, breaking him out of his auto-concert and turning down the music as she got in.

"How'd it go?" he asked.

"Al Gore has a better bed-side manner than that tech," she replied, rejoicing as she pulled off her mask.

"Give 'em a break, Eva. They're under a lot of pressure right now," he reminded her, "It's not their fault you have a hospital phobia, anyway,"

"It's a fear," she proclaimed, "Phobias are fear of irrational things while fears are completely rational,"

"Exactly. It's a phobia," he replied cheekily, "You're afraid of the one place where you should go when you have an emergency,"

Eva simpered, "The entire world is sunk in a global emergency and it's gonna take another year probably before we have a cure. Is that an irrational fear?"

"No, that is tragedy meets science meets patience," Greg replied, "Two factors of which America does not have plenty of,"

"At least we can agree on that," she sighed, "On the brighter side, I got a Hello Kitty bandaid,"

Greg chuckled, "For what?"

"They had to take a blood test. I couldn't tell if she was making fun of me or not," she said.

"I think she maybe recognized you were nervous and tried to cheer you up," he replied.

"I don't know. It's cute, anyway," she admired the pink and red bandaid over her inner elbow.

Greg was silent for a little while as he pulled into midday traffic, eyeing his little sister cautiously as he debated his next topic of conversation.

"So, dad scheduled the call at eleven," he said.

Eva gave him the side eye, "What call?"

"You know what call,"

"I'm not available,"

"Eva,"

"Greg, c'mon. I've been dodging her calls for almost a year," Eva huffed, "Why should I give in now?"

Greg rolled his eyes, "Because even though she's a flakey little witch with commitment issues, she's still our mother who might be taking one of your kidneys should the Gods allow,"

"Your pep talks still suck," she grumbled.

"Would you just humour me?" he was on the verge of begging her.

"I'm busy at four,"

"Doing what?"

"My work," she replied matter of factly.

"Eva, you can take ten minutes away from your clients," he said.

"She doesn't know that," she shrugged back.

"Evaaa," he drawled lowly, trying not to sound aggravated, "You were crying last night about how you didn't want to be like mom,"

"I told you that I'm not," she replied sternly.

"And this is me making sure you don't turn out like her," Greg reasoned.

Eva looked out the window again, the dreary, rain-slick streets passing in a frenzied blur. A part of her missed this place, she had to admit; she missed her old friends and the trouble they used to get up to in high school. She longed for the days when she didn't have to worry about stepping foot out of her house and the prospect of being sliced open for "family" wasn't on the cards. And weirdly enough, she missed Greg, too.

In the back of her mind she knew he was right; she was just like their mom because she ran away from everything. It broke her heart to realize, and she felt stupid for not picking it off beforehand. Eva was hypocritical, it broke her heart but she knew she had to face her problems before they got worse, before she truly turned out to be as flakey as her mom.

"Alright," she finally admitted, "I'll sit in on the call,"

Greg tried to bite back his smug smile, but he nodded, "Thank you,"

"I'm not promising I'll stay for the whole thing,"

"Even if you just say 'hi' and 'goodbye', I'm happy,"

To say Remington had a restless sleep was an understatement. He had tossed and turned all night, terrified of whatever the hell he'd witnessed last night. Of course when he'd asked Emerson about it this morning, the youngest brother had no damn clue just what the hell he was talking about.

"Are you sure you weren't drinking last night?" Sebastian asked, sitting across from Remington at the kitchen table as he enjoying a mediocre cup of coffee.

Remington stirred his cereal with vast irritation, knowing very well in the back of his mind that he probably sounded crazy, "No. I was sober as a judge, I swear. There was something in our fucking house last night," he tried to plead his case.

"No there wasn't," Emerson called, his face sticking into the fridge as he tried to decide what to have for breakfast.

Remington scoffed, "You were snoring so damn much, you probably woke the dead and they wanted to come after you anyway," he grumbled.

Sebastian was skeptical of course, raising his eyebrows in dismay, "I think maybe all the stress with the album is getting to you a little, Rem. That and -- you probably really miss Eva,"

"Well, of course I fucking miss her," Remington replied, "But I'm not that crazy and I'm not that stressed out. In fact, this is the least stressed out I've been putting an album together,"

"He's got a point," Emerson pointed out, finally deciding to pull out the whole carton of almond milk and settle at the table with his brothers, "I don't know, we never asked about the history of this house. Maybe there's a presence lurking about?"

"Lurking about?" Sebastian queried.

"It's a synonym for 'hanging around',"

"I know what 'lurking' means,"

"Guys, please," Remington huffed. He wasn't hungover, yet he could feel a headache beginning to throb in the back of his brain, "I don't know what happened, all I know is I'm tired and my head hurts and Pluto is a damn blanket hog,"

At the mention of his name, Pluto perked up from where he was lying at Remington's feet, staring at him almost accusingly with his big yellow eyes. Remington glowered back at him, "Yeah, I said it!"

Pluto put his head back down and went to sleep again.

Sebastian shook his head, "Okay, moving on from that... what's the status on 'Fever Dream'?"

"Which part?" Emerson asked.

"Where we almost finished writing the title track part," regarding Fever Dream.

"I'm close to giving up, to be honest," Remington huffed, "I can't -- I can't figure out the chorus, and everything I have just doesn't segway nicely with everything else we got,"

"Maybe you should ask your ghost for help?" Emerson suggested coyly.

"Maybe I should punch your face in?" Remington snapped back.

"Guys," Sebastian interjected quickly, "How about instead of reverting to past toxic behaviour you guys go have a shower," he pointed to his brothers, "And I'll set up the computer and everything, and we'll get back to work,"

"Fair enough,"

"Sounds good,"

Remington shuffled out of his chair first, Emerson lallygagged of course as he poured himself some almond milk, and Sebastian took another sip of his coffee, screwing up his face in disgust as he forced himself to swallow.

"Remington, why is it your coffee always sucks?" he asked.

Remington turned back to his older brother, smirking slyly, "Who said I made it? Maybe it was the ghost?"

"Go away,"

Remington made sure to put Pluto upstairs, knowing he wouldn't like the raucous chaos of their recording session today. And he didn't want Eva being mad at him for deafening her cat. He started to strip down and get refreshened up when his phone suddenly buzzed. A text from Eva popped up.

Hey, can we FT?

He threw a towel around his waist and rang her up right away. She popped up in her room it seemed, lying across her bed with a look of dismay on her face.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked as she soon as she picked up.

"Yeah, I just came back from the hospital," she replied, "I missed you,"

"I miss you, too," he sat back on his bed, "Your cat's such a blanket hog, I swear," he smirked.

Eva simpered, "Hey, you knew what you were signing up for," she teased.

"I know. It's only easier to deal with when you're with me," he drawled. Eva rolled her eyes, giggling anyway, "How was the hospital?"

"It was okay," she replied, "I had on one of those tricky gowns and I got a pretty IV bandaid from the doctor,"

"Oooh, can I see?"

Eva switched the camera view to show the Hello Kitty bandage on the inside of her arm, "She could tell I was nervous,"

"That's adorable," he chuckled, "They just took a blood test?"

"And they did an ultrasound, something to do with the size of my kidney and the compatibility of my veins. I don't know," she shrugged, "All my research flew out the window as soon as I walked in,"

"It's okay, babe," he assured her, "You were brave and that's all that matters,"

"Thanks," she smiled, "What're you up to today?"

"More recording," he sighed heavily, "And more banging my head against the wall because I don't feel like I know what I'm doing,"

"Oh, c'mon Remi. You absolutely do," she assured, "Is it that same song?"

"Yep,"

"What does Chris say?"

"He's optimistic -- that makes one of us at least," he smirked, "He keeps throwing different notes and chords at us but I just can't get a good chorus to flow nicely. Please help me, Virginia Woolf,"

"Oh, I wish," Eva replied, "I wish I could write a song like you could,"

"You already write poetry," he pointed out.

She shrugged, "Yeah, but writing a poem and then setting it to music is a whole other level. I love you for it,"

Remington smiled, "Well, I love you and your Hello Kitty bandage," he replied.

Eva blushed under the blue light, she wished more than anything she could have him beside her right now, "Anyway, what else are you doing today?" she asked.

"Well, I offered Sebastian to help out with Thanksgiving, but he shut that shit down super quick," he said sheepishly.

"Honey, you just perfected a good coffee. Soon enough we'll move you up to boiling an egg," Eva smirked.

"Hey, I can boil an egg!" he exclaimed, mocking insult.

"I know," she drawled back playfully, "What're you guys doing for Thanksgiving?"

"My mom will be over, and a couple of friends too," he replied, "What about you?"

"My dad will be cooking, and Greg's volunteering so I'm nervous to see how this turns out," she simpered, "And my sister's gonna be bringing her kid and her boyfriend,"

"Hmm, why does this sound like a Jerry Springer episode I would pay to watch?" he said.

"I'll set up a boxing ring in the living room," she huffed, "As if this won't be painful enough, my mom wants to have a zoom call later with us,"

"And I'm assuming you're thinking of every excuse you can to get yourself out of it, right?" he asked.

"I tried, but Greg threatened to tie me to my chair," she replied.

Remington began to laugh, "You know, Sebastian did that to me once," he mired.

"... Was it justified?" she asked.

"You can ask him. I say it wasn't. My mom says it wasn't. He has a different opinion," he replied.

"I'll have to ask him when I get back," she said, "Am I -- do you think I'm justified sin everything I did?"

"What did you do?" he asked.

"You know, ignoring my mom's calls, not keeping in touch with my family. I basically ran away from everybody without much justification," she explained.

Remington smacked his lips together, mulling it over in his head, "I wouldn't say that you 'ran away' per say. I mean, you left a situation that you felt was bad for you, I think that's pretty justified," he replied thoughtfully, "Someone saying otherwise?"

"More or less," she admitted, "You know, Greg was driving me to the hospital and I was looking around at the neighbourhood, and I mean, a part of me did miss what I had here,"

Remington tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest, "It's fair. It's where you grew up,"

"Yeah but, I also realized that I wasn't as happy as I could've been. I didn't get to enjoy my teens or my early adulthood," she shrugged.

"What about now?" he asked.

"I am. I think my fear is that if I stop being happy one day, am I just gonna' run away like I did here? And you know, I don't want to do that to you," he could tell she was anxious, even with just her face in view. She kept sucking in her cheeks and her speech was tight and concise.

"Eva, you're a different person than you were when you decided to move. Just like I'm a different person from before I met you. I don't know much about your family and the history and drama or whatever, but you're not the cut-and-run, type," he explained, "You took the time to plan out your career, find a place, take care of your cat and make your rent in one of the most expensive cities in the country. A flakey person -- I don't think, anyway -- is as organized as you are. And even if you were... I would follow right behind you,"

Eva began to smile, shaking her head at herself, "Am I being ridiculous?" she asked.

"No," he replied swiftly, "If it was me I'd be uncomfortable, too. But you have been so brave up to this point, if you just -- close your eyes, take some deep breathes, you'll be alright,"

"Yeah, I know," she huffed, "Thank you. I'm sorry if I keep dredging it up,"

Remington smirked, "And how many times have you listened to me ramble about my insecurities?"

"Fair," she chuckled back, "I love you a lot,"

"I know," he grinned back.

"Okay, thanks Han,"

He laughed some more, "I love you, too. And I'm always here for you," he reminded her.

"Me too," she nodded, "And don't worry about your song, it's gonna come to you before you know,"

"Oh, you think so?" he asked listlessly.

"Yeah. I mean it, you'll be fine," she smirked back.

Remington gasped, "Oh, that was good!" he cried happily. Eva's giggles crackled through the speaker, though she was interrupted momentarily when the echo for her name rang faintly in the background.

"Fuck, I think it's time," she sighed.

"You'll be alright," he assured her, "I'll keep my phone if you wanna' talk later,"

"I appreciate that," she nodded, reaching for the hangup button. Remington stopped her suddenly when another thought popped into his head.

"Hey, really quick," he interjected, "Do you remember that conversation we had not long ago about ghosts?"

Eva cocked her head to the side as she thought back, "Vaguely. Why?" she asked.

Remington shrugged sheepishly, "Well, you said you believe not necessarily ghosts, but that there's something out there..."

Eva's eyes widened, "You mean like the creepy old woman standing in the corner behind you...?"

Remington turned quicker than he should've, relief washing over him when he saw that nothing was there. Because of course nothing was there. He glowered at his smug girlfriend, "That's not funny, Eva,"

"Hey, you did it first," she simpered, "Seriously, did something happen?"

He opened his mouth to elaborate, but then thought better of it. What if she thought he was nuts? No, she wouldn't judge him like that, right?

"I don't know how to explain it, I just thought that I heard somebody running up and down the stairs last night, but there was nothing there," he explained.

"Was it Pluto?" she asked.

"That's what I thought! But he was asleep beside me!" he exclaimed.

"Well, it's an older house. Maybe you just heard some clunking in the walls?" she suggested. Eva heard her dad call her name again, a little more forcefully this time, "I'm sorry, Rem, but I really have to go,"

"I know, I know," he nodded, "You're right, it's probably nothing, anyway,"

"Well, I don't know. How about we look it into it, later?"

"Sounds good," he nodded, "I love you,"

"I love you, too. Bye," her smile was the last thing he saw before his screen went dark.

Remington lifted himself off his bed, the towel still slung over his hips as he ventured into the bathroom. With the flick of the switch, the bathroom was illuminated in a soft, spa-like glow. He started to wash his face and get his toothbrush ready, when all of the sudden the lights over his head began to flicker. He stared at the bulbs over the mirror for a moment, his heart nearly stopping when they went off and on again. Maybe Eva was right, maybe it was just an older house and things were clunking and wiring was faulty? But then again...

"Sebastian? Can you come up here, please?"

Eva hopped down the stairs a moments later, her heart racing in her chest when she heard voices in the kitchen, familiar and unfamiliar. One of them she clearly recognized as her mom.

She took a deep breath before she hit the main floor, closing her eyes and letting Remington's reassurance echo in her ears. She had been a big girl up to this point, she could fake it for a little bit longer.

She wandered into the kitchen, her hands tucked deeply in the back pockets of her jeans as she came across her dad sitting across from another man, Julian McCarthy. Across from them was an open laptop, her mom's face illuminated on the screen. A large lump grew in her throat.

Her dad lit up when he saw Eva, "Ah, there you are," he exclaimed, trying to remain optimistic, "You're just in time. You remember Julian, right?"

Julian was a distinguished older gentleman, harbouring the same charm as Willem Dafoe in a Wes Anderson movie. His brushed back hair and deep sunken eyes would've made him perfect for any role in a film noir.

"It's nice to see you again, Eva," he stood up and extended his hand to her. Eva kept her hands in her pockets, the rushing of blood between her ears too loud for her to comprehend for anything else. Her eyes stayed trained on her, a pale shadow of the woman she used to know, hooked up to beeping machines and a breathing tube under her nose.

"Yeah. If you don't mind, I'm not really shaking hands right now," she murmured shakily.

Julian nodded, "Oh, of course. I forget sometimes," he chuckled bashfully.

"Eva!" her mother suddenly cried, some semblance of joy coming over her face, "Look at you! You're all grown up!" her voice was softer, still so familiar, motherly. The rushing in her ears grew louder.

Her father swooped in quickly, "She's moved to California, now! She's thriving over there, aren't you baby cakes?"

Eva wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or relieved at her father, but she went with it anyway, "Y-Yeah,"

"Why, that's wonderful!" Julian cried, "Good for you! Are you still writing?"

"I heard you're running your own business!" her mother exclaimed, "That's amazing!"

Her hands clenched into fists, her nails dug deeply into her palms. Hot flashes flooded through her body as she continued to talk, "You didn't have to come all the way back for this, especially with everything going on these days,"

Her chest began to tighten, her breathing became short. Eva recognized the common signs of a panic attack, she needed some fresh air.

"Um -- excuse me for a minute," and she made a mad dash for the back door. She passed Greg in a blur.

"Eva? Eva what's wrong?" he called after her to no avail.

Eva burst through the back door into the yard, rain drizzling down before her. She took big, deep breaths, her eyes slipping shut as she fell into one of the deck chairs.

Well, that was embarrassing.

She whipped out her phone from her pocket, quickly pulling up Remington's contact as she debated whether or not to call him again. No, he told you he's working. Let him work right now. You'll be okay, just breathe... just breathe.

Her mantra was repeated over and over, inhaling through her nose and exhaling through her mouth. She wondered if anybody would come to check on her, or if her dad was making excuses for her. He did that a lot, even after the divorce trying to appease his ex-wife when she visibly showed discontent for him. That was why he invited her to Eva's grad without her prior knowledge.

The fresh air began to settle her nerves and her body temperature cooled off. Her ears perked up when she heard a faint coughing in the distance, some sputtering emanating behind the tree in their yard. Her curiosity got the better of her; on shaky legs she got up and went to investigate the coughing.

Needless to say, she was perplexed to see Theo McCarthy sitting under the tree, damp and shivering under the rain.

[sleekervae]

The Neighbour [4.0]

A/N: Okay everybody, just as I promised here's the next instalment! How 2023 been treating you so far??

Warnings: light fluff, some angst, familial drama ahead.

Masterlist

Getting out of bed that morning was one of the hardest things Eva had to do. Harder than the morning after prom when her body ached from all-night-partying and super sweet wine coolers. The soft, warm sheets paired with naked skin was too inviting to simply blow off, but of course this wasn't exactly a lazy Sunday for Eva.

Despite her selfish internal protests, she and Remington crawled out of bed, cleaned up her apartment and packed up her suitcase in his car. Emerson and Shy were already up -- much to Remington's surprise -- and brewing coffee for them before they took off for the airport. Pluto sniffed around the kitchen as soon as he was set down, meandering around until his eyes fell on Pepper. The teacup pom watched curiously from the couch as the tabby leapt up, stretched out across the soft leather, and cuddled up next to her. Pepper didn't make much of a peep of protest, instead settling back into sleep.

She sipped her coffee and made good conversation with her friends, her stomach flipped when she saw it was finally time to head off to the airport. Emerson and Shy hugged her tight, wishing her luck and assuring her to ease up on her worries. Easier said than done, as always. She kissed Pluto goodbye and followed closely behind Remington his car.

She stayed silent throughout the ride, staring out the window at the gorgeous LA morning haze while Remington played Genesis on the stereo.

The airport was busy; how could they be surprised though? LAX was one of the biggest airports in the country, taking thousands upon thousands of travelers a day -- pandemic be damned. The airport was also crawling with security guards, masked and monitoring for anyone who might want to start up a stir about the airport's pandemic-prevention measures. One of them being Remington couldn't go inside the airport as he wasn't a traveler.

Eva's mask sat under her chin as she watched him pull out her suitcase, despite her assurances that she could grab it. She always liked how chivalrous he could be, though. Her arms were crossed across her chest, rocking back and forth on her heels and feeling like she may puke up at any moment.

She had been dreading the day she had to return to Seattle -- circumstances varying.

With a loud slam, Remington shut the trunk of his car, wandering over to his timid girl. He smiled, trying his best to reassure her and calm her trembling nerves.

"Should I ask the question?" he grinned with cheek.

Eva's brow furrowed, "What? Am I ready? Because you know the answer, Rem," she huffed.

"I know," he brought his hand up under her chin, tilting up her jaw to meet her gaze, "But this week is going to fly by, and if all goes well you will be back to putting up with our shenanigans in no time!"

Eva simpered meekly, her cold fingers brushing across his cheek, "... And if it doesn't go well?"

His smile broadened, "Than I will hop on the first flight out there to take care of you,"

"Remi --"

"Your crazy family be damned; I will take care of you, Eva," he assured.

Her smile finally became genuine and she blinked back the tears, throwing her arms around him in a tight hug. She basked in the freshness of his body wash from his morning shower and the comforting musk of his hoodie. In the back of her mind she wondered how he wasn't boiling over right now...

"I'm gonna' miss you so much," she whimpered.

"I'm gonna' miss you, too," he pulled back briefly, brushing his lips across hers in a soft kiss. He was being brave for her, the rational part of his brain knowing that she would be back so soon, and the selfish part of him either wanting to hop on that plane with her or toss her back in his car and drive home right now, "You call me as soon as you land, okay?"

"I will," she promised, pressing up on her toes to kiss him again; he tasted of bitter coffee and safe spaces. His hands kept her closely pressed to him, gripping the soft fabric of her cotton sweater. His mind chanted like a mantra to ease his worry; it's only one week, it's only one week, it's only one week...

Eva's fingers lingered across his cheek, her other hand grasping for the strap of her suitcase. She inhaled sharply, "Try to stay out of trouble while I'm gone?" she asked.

His grin turned coy then, "I'll save the trouble for when you get back," he promised, "Have a safe flight, Eva,"

With a small nod she took her bag and walked over to the large departure sliding doors. Remington stayed by the car, watching her stride up, then she stopped momentarily. The security guard at the door watched her curiously as Eva suddenly dropped her bag and purse, turning back on her heel and ripping her mask off to run back, crashing into Remington for one more kiss. The wind was knocked out of him for a split second though his hands wound around her tightly, kissing her back with just as much fervor and desperation. Her arms locked tightly around his neck and he pulled her up, she stood on her toes to match his height.

She'll be back before you know it...

When they finally parted and he set her down, Eva smiled bashfully as she tried to collect herself. Remington brushed her hair from her face, his fingers tracing down the line of her jaw and stopping under her chin.

"I love you so much," she simpered shyly.

He pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead, shuddering as though his chest would burst at the seams at any moment, "I love you, too,"

Eva had never been a nervous flyer. She had taken ten hour trips to Europe to visit the cities in Amsterdam where her relatives grew up, quick cross-country rides to and from college and spring break get-aways. Of course, when she hopped on a plane in February, the most stressful thing was trying to calm Pluto down while he tried to scratch his way out of his crate.

Of course, this trip looked a little different. Security was tighter, almost scrutinizing as they asked her different questions about where she was going, why she was going, wanting to take her temperature and show off her negative covid test. And the lines were almost as long as those for Disney Land, as though restricted travel mandates had inspired more and more to take the risk and travel.

Perhaps because she was with Remington she didn't really take the time to notice the various families on their Thanksgiving travels, and the hoards of people, young and old, who were chin-masking here and there. Maybe because she was with her friends she didn't feel as vulnerable as she did now?

When she finally boarded the plane and sat in her seat, the ominous smell of cleaning fluid and ammonia filtered through her mask. Funny, she didn't pick up on the disinfectant last time. Everything appeared so clinical and sterile, and yet Eva was skeptical to sit down in the soft plush seat. She had the aisle this time, seated next to an older gentleman who was reading a GQ through his thick-rimmed glasses. He gave her a skeptical glare but didn't utter a word, shifting in his seat as far as he could to get away from her.

It was fair to say her anxiety wouldn't be spiking if Remington was with her, finding different ways to entertain and make her laugh despite the callous and cold atmosphere within the flight...

“You do realize you said the word ‘bed’ twice in that last sentence, right?” 

“What’re you talking about?” he asked.

“You said ‘Airbnb bed’. But the BNB stands for ‘bed and breakfast’,” she said, “It’s a double implicate statement,”

“In English please?” he said, trying not to let his smirk spread.

“It’s unnecessary repetition to make your point just because you’re horny,” she stated, bemusement twinkling in her eyes nonetheless.

A delighted giggle escaped his throat as he quickly pulled down his mask to kiss her forehead before coyly shushing her in her ear, “You’re on vacation, fuck the grammar lesson,” 

The flight was eerily quiet, just like last time, and even though the flight was just a little bit longer than that to Mexico, Eva felt it just dragged on and on. She couldn't help but feel a ripple of uneasiness shudder within, knowing that every minute that passed was just another minute closer to being in the same room with her trauma. She tried not to think about it, how her sister would find excuses to berate and belittle her, how her brother would be indifferent and more broody than a scene kid at a Slipknot show. Her father would probably insist on going out "as a family", as if she could even call them such. She wondered if that family dinner would include her mom's other family as well?

Just the thought alone made Eva's stomach turn. She got up from her seat when she couldn't take the twisting pain in her gut, slipping into the tiny little bathroom and hurling her breakfast out into the toilet. She washed her face right after, splashing some water into her mouth and spitting out again into the toilet. She placed her mask back on her face and slipped out, nearly coming nose-to-nose with a flight attendant. She batted her long lashes at her.

"Are you alright, Miss?" she asked. Her demeanor showed concern for both Eva's safety, but also her own and for the rest of the passengers.

Eva inhaled sharply, nodding, "Yeah, little air sick," and she slipped past the attendant and plopped back into her seat.

There was a screen mounted on the wall of the cabin, showing a map with blaring numbers telling all passengers how much time was left before they landed. Eva had just under an hour before she was back in Seattle, and as far as she was concerned the time couldn't drag on long enough.

Back in LA, Remington was sprawled out across his couch, glasses perched on his nose as he head his papers word for word, almost scrutinizing his own work. The chaos of Chris and Sebastian in their makeshift sound board went above his head, while Emerson was... well, Remington couldn't really say where Emerson was right now. He announced he was going for a smoke break about twenty minutes ago and he had yet to return. Not that it mattered much to Remington, he had an earphone in one ear and a pen gripped in his hand, none the wiser to Pluto sleeping blissfully at his feet.

It was as though Pluto could sense his owner had taken off and he'd been clinging to Remington since he'd returned from the airport. He followed him around all morning, sitting beside him or hopping on the top of the couch to sit on his shoulder. He'd never been so affectionate before, and Remington welcomed the pale tabby with kind regard.

Sebastian noticed his brother's quiet demeanor, his fixed focus on his song book and various notes scribbled across the withered page. It struck him funny how he could draw comparisons between him and Eva, sucked into a vortex of their own whimsy. Speaking of, Sebastian picked up his phone to check the time. Eva would probably be landing anytime, now.

"Did Eva land yet?" he asked. Remington however was too engrossed in the guitar loop he had loaded onto his phone, trying to sync each beat with his scribbling. Sebastian, in true big brother affection, chucked an eraser at him. It bounced off his shoulder, and Chris began to laugh.

"Hey!" Remington pulled out his earphone, "What do you want?"

"Did Eva's flight land yet?" he asked, this time enunciating every syllable.

"No, not yet," Remington mocked back, "She's gonna call me, anyway,"

"Aw," Chris crooned, "Reminds me of you," he said to Sebastian.

Sebastian glowered at him, "What?"

"You were all doe-eyed and aggressive when you and Larissa started dating," he grinned back.

"I'm not doe-eyed!" Remington pointed out.

"Okay, Bambi," Chris nodded, wheeling his chair over to the couch, "Is that Eva's song?"

Remington shrugged with nonchalance, "I want it to be," he huffed.

Sebastian cocked an eyebrow, "But..."

"I think it's probably too loud," he replied, "You know, for what I want to put across,"

Chris snatched the book, much to Remington chagrin, "I'll be the judge of that. Give me your phone,"

Remington pulled out his wires and handed Chris the phone, starting the track at the time stamp Remington had marked on the verse:

Your name won’t be forgotten ‘Cause I’ll scream it in the air We’ll burn down old traditions We don’t wanna live in fear You been hidin’ in the alleys I been beaten to a pulp But you wiped the blood from off my face And we're still standing tall

Chris smiled, Remington couldn't tell if it was from hilarity, judgement, or sheer amusement. However, his older mate was vehemently impressed as he tossed the book to Sebastian.

"What do you think, Seb?" and he played the guitar loop for him. Sebastian read the verse a few times, then listened to the loop. With that, he picked up his electric fender and began to play along to Remington's acoustics. The guitar wasn't plugged in, but in conjunction with the baseline melody Sebastian caught on to Remington's idea spot on.

"I dig it," he decided then, "It's a love song for your girlfriend, it doesn't have to be a softer ballad,"

"It's like a power couple song!" Chris suggested, "You're climbing to the top of a mountain and proclaiming to the whole world that it's you and Eva against everything. Tell me something more romantic, bet you can't,"

It was then Emerson finally blessed the boys with the return of his presence, "What's romantic?" he asked.

"I wrote a power couple song," Remington replied.

Emerson blinked momentarily, trying to compute in his brain just what the hell his brother had said.

"Is that good or bad?" he drawled on.

Remington shrugged again, "I don't know," he then turned to the cat, "What do you think, Pluto? Will Eva like it?"

Pluto neglected to make any movements, the only sign that his soul was still amongst him were the rises and dips in his back as he slept soundly.

"I think she'll hate the phrase 'power couple song'," Emerson muttered as he went to sit at his drums, "I do,"

"The cat has no taste, and neither do you," Chris said, "I think she'll be into the song, Rem. But let's try this hook for the pre-chorus, instead..."

Eva was definitely home. The window during the plane's descent was white and grey, and rain began to splatter against the windows. Yep, she was back to the dreary old Seattle weather.

She didn't have much time between scuffling off the plane and hurrying to the belt to grab her luggage, and she tried to phone Remington just as she promised. However, her call went unanswered. She was none the wiser to the fact that the boys were testing out the chorus for Remington's song and the phone call was drowned out. She paid it little mind, firing off a quick "I've landed" text while she dragged her suitcase behind her.

Seattle-Tacoma was a bit smaller than LAX, but still just as packed with people in the arrival bay. Her eyes scanned the sea of mask-covered faces, making it just that much harder for her to spot her dad waiting at the end of the cue. His salt and pepper hair and tightly buttoned up shirt was a dead give away, and Eva made her way over to greet him.

"Babycakes!" he announced when he finally laid eyes on his daughter. Eva grimaced at the old nickname, but she smiled nonetheless as she gave him a hug.

"Hi Dad," her father wasted no time, taking his suitcase and leading her outside the airport. Just as Eva had predicted, it was raining. What else would mid-November Seattle be doing weather wise?

Just as she climbed into her dad's car, Remington phoned her back. She dismissed the call as he dad climbed in and started the engine. She'd call him back in a bit, anyhow.

In the middle console was a bag of Brookside chocolates, acai and blueberry flavor, just like always. She popped a few in her mouth for good measure. He asked her all the basic dad questions: how was the flight, did you have something to eat, etc etc. Then he blurted out,

"Everyone's real excited to see you,"

Eva glanced at him suspiciously; his shoulders were back and his jaw was locked tight. Nevertheless he wore an easy façade that to anyone else would justify to them at her father wasn't just as nervous as Eva was.

"You don't have to lie, Dad," she said.

"I'm not lying," he huffed, "Greg has been cleaning out the house all week, and Magda's --"

"Been playing house with Troy and pretending I don't exist," she finished bitterly.

Her dad refrained from rolling his eyes, "She doesn't pretend you don't exist, Eva," he assured.

Eva cocked an eyebrow, "Oh? So Arleth knows who I am, now?" referring to her young niece.

"Arleth just turned three. She doesn't even know Magda's name isn't actually 'Mommy'," he replied, "Though it probably would've helped if you didn't tell your sister to 'go to hell' the last time you spoke,"

"Right after she told me jump off a bridge," Eva grumbled, her now burning question rising to her throat, " -- What about Lydia?"

"Your mother is home --"

"Not our home,"

"She's renting a BnB a couple miles from the hospital,"

"With her hubby and crotch goblin?"

"Eva,"

"Am I wrong?"

Her father gripped the steering tighter, "Eva, despite everything that's happened, she's still your mother. And she still loves you,"

"If she loved me then she at least would've called and ask if she could bring her secondary family to my grad, not just show up like the fucking Babadook,"

"Theo,"

"Theo who?"

"The name of the crotch goblin; Theo. And his father is Julian," her dad informed her.

"You talked to them?" she quiered.

"To Julian, we had to talk about your mother's care," he turned the corner into the familiar neighborhood, "I'm grateful you came out to help, Eva,"

Eva took a couple more pieces of chocolate, chewing thoughtfully as she stared out the window, "Not sure how much help I'm really gonna' be,"

Soon enough they pulled up to the old family house. It was 90s colonial, withered from years of abuse from rowdy kids, the paint peeling from sun damage and the roof tiles mossed over from the constant rain. Her father jumped out to grab her suitcase and Eva stood in the mouth of the walk way. Twenty years of memories flooded over her with just as much violence as a tsunami, it all blended into a cloud of white noise that was loud enough to break out a headache from behind her eyes.

Her attention switched to the loud barking, and a large, shaggy German Shepard leapt out from the porch and was bounding her way. Her face lit up.

"Rosie!" she fell to her knees, scratching and cuddling the scruffy animal. She was so focused on the dog, she hadn't noticed her older brother, Greg, waiting on the porch. He watched amused as Bruno took to sniffing out Eva's clothes.

"I think she's upset," he called out, "She smells the cat on you,"

Eva looked up, the smirk on Greg still as youthful and irritating as always. They hadn't seen each other in over a year, he was studying in Boston when the pandemic hit. With Rosie trotting along behind her, Eva sauntered up to the second step of their porch. The wood creaked under her sneakers, her arms were folded over her chest as she stared at her brother -- no, she stared at that bush on his face.

"Why'd you glue a squirrel pelt to your chin?" she asked.

Greg simpered, "I don't know. Why are you still Caspar pale after California?"

Eva punched his arm, and Greg retaliated by pulling her up into a hug, "I missed you, Eves,"

Despite how her brother annoyed her, she couldn't deny it felt good to see him again, "Missed you too, Greg,"

The inside of the house was the same, but still there were changes within it she didn't recognize. The old pale taupe walls had been painted a sage green, some photos had been moved around and there was a distinctive smell of old wood mixed with lemon pine sol. Not to mention the house was impeccably clean, impossibly clean, even. Eva swore she saw the stairs glisten for a moment.

"Nice paint job," she noted.

Greg nodded as their dad followed them in, "Your brother's been busy this summer. Taking a sabbatical from school had lead to him becoming the unsung Property Brother," he said.

"I think I'm more like Hilary Farr," Greg smirked, "Left the mess to the contractors, I just told them what to do,"

"Remember when I told you to put 'bossy' on your resume?" Eva joked.

Despite her assurances that she could take her own luggage, her dad still insisted on taking it upstairs for her. Eva came to what she had always known was her bedroom door, however her father stopped her.

"Ugh, sorry Babycakes, I hope you don't mind but we put you in the guest room," he said.

Eva paused at that, surprised and ultimately curious as to why her room wasn't her room anymore, "Why?"

"Because," her father shrugged sheepishly, "We're remodelling your room. Just for some extra curricular use,"

And you had plenty of rooms to choose that we're mine, Eva thought to herself. The rational part of her brain knew it was silly to be upset over something so trivial, after all, she herself had doubts she would ever come back to Bitter Lake. Still, the nostalgic part of her was hurt beyond words.

"Right," she followed her dad to the guest room nonetheless. The walls were sage green, just like downstairs, the sheets were crisp white with black throw pillows perched perfectly against the headboard. It was a comfy room, but it was a guest room with no personality or sign of basic life.

After she settled in she joined her dad and brother for a late lunch. He'd made chicken and potato latkes, and because Greg was feeling generous he decided to pop open a bottle of red wine. The meal was pleasant, as both of them kept asking her questions about LA and how her job was going. And then her father stumbled onto the topic of her boyfriend, and Greg was suddenly all over that like bees on a honeycomb.

"You're dating?" he popped an eyebrow.

"You look surprised," Eva chuckled.

"Just making sure you're the same sister who stood up during the Valentine's Day pageant and read out a poem about how love is a clinical disease in the ninth grade," he said.

"Yeah, and ten years ago I also wanted crackle nail polish and was obsessed with Percy Jackson. Opinions change," she shrugged, popping some chicken into her mouth.

Greg scoffed, "Well, c'mon! What's he like? What does he do? And is he college educated pencil pusher?" he shot his dad a teasing glare.

Eva refrained from rolling her eyes, "He's a musician... in a rock band," she watched her brother's eyes nearly pop out of his head, "A singer,"

Greg looked to their dad, who nodded slowly as he chewed his food, "And you didn't have a coronary when she told you?" he gawked in disbelief.

Their dad sighed, "You guys are adults, I should trust your judgement," he replied.

"Thanks, Dad," Eva simpered.

Greg pressed on, "So, this singer... what's his name?"

"Remington,"

"And he's in a band?"

"With his brothers. Palaye Royale," she grinned bashfully.

"Sounds like some uppity fragrance label you pay through the nose for," Greg chuckled, "Has he written you a sappy love song?"

"Not yet," she replied, "They're working on new music right now. You wouldn't believe, when I met him he had this tiny little living room with a coffee table and a couple leather couches and maybe some books. It was all they could fit in there. Then they went and refurbished it into a recording studio all within a week!"

"Who's they, again?"

"Remington and his brothers,"

"They all live together?"

"Just him and his younger brother. The older one lives with his fiancé,"

Her father cocked a brow, "And what're the odds you'd move in right across the street from them?"

Greg choked out, "Hold up -- you live across the damn street?!"

"Ironic, isn't it?" she grinned back.

"Jesus," Greg sipped his wine thoughtfully, "The universe has it out for you, I guess,"

Before Eva could answer, there was a click and a thud coming from the hall, followed by the pattering and squelching of boots on hardwood. Eva's anxiety suddenly spiked, knowing fully well who else would have a house key besides her dad and brother...

The oldest sister, Magda, stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the small lunch party. Her dark brown hair was damp and clung to her face and rain coat, her hazel eyes dark and slanted when they landed on Eva. Eva and Magda hadn't spoken in ten months, and given the unimpressed glare on her sister's face, Magda wasn't ready to bury the hatchet just yet.

"Oh, sorry Dad, I didn't know you were having a guest," she huffed, "But then I guess we've been having unexpected guests coming and going all month, haven't we?"

Their dad dropped his utensils, getting ready to scold his daughter, "Magda --"

"Didn't even think to invite me, eh?" she scoffed.

Greg glowered at her, "Well, aren't we all supposed to have Thanksgiving together?"

"Begrudgingly so," Magda replied, "I just wanted to drop off Arleth's bassinet,"

"She's three years old," Eva suddenly spoke out, "She still needs a bassinet?"

Magda shifted her glare to Eva, staying stone still on her spot in the hall, "Well, believe it or not, I don't just have money to blow up in Hollywood. Even if I did, I wouldn't be inconsiderate and stupid in letting you all know only three weeks in advance,"

"Magda!" her father scolded again. Eva dropped her own utensils with a loud clanging.

"It wasn't three weeks, it was two months. And don't be mad at me because I remember to take my birth control --"

"Eva!" her father then turned to her. Greg stood up, not eager to watch a fight break out, and joined his sister in the hall.

"Where's the bed? I'll take it up for you,"

"I got it in the car," and she lead him outside.

Eva sat back in her chair, her arms crossed over her chest and she stared down at her food. She'd suddenly lost her appetite.

Her father sighed, almost with an air of defeat. Who could blame him, these past few years he'd done everything he could to keep his daughters from almost killing each other. Not even one of them moving across the country could quell their disdain for one another.

"Eva, that was uncalled for," her father huffed.

She rolled her eyes that time, "She just called me 'stupid' right in front of you," she replied.

He shook his head solemnly, "I know, brings me right back to when you were kids all over again,"

Eva didn't say a word as she listened to Greg and Magda putter back in, with hushed whispered echoing in-between. She listened to Greg's heavy stomping up the stairs and around the catwalk, stopping just where she suspected her would.

"So, you turned my room into a nursery?" she queried.

Her dad stared at her sheepishly again, picking plainly at his chicken, "To be fair, we didn't anticipate you coming home anytime soon, originally"

"... But I would've," she assured, "Even if Lydia wasn't in the hospital, I still would've visited,"

"And you of course would've wanted to stay here with us, right?" he huffed.

"Of course!" she nodded, "Magda's moved out so it's safe,"

Her father just shook his head, "You wouldn't have stayed with us, Eva, let's be real. You'd find an Air BnB to stay at in the city,"

She shrugged back, "And even if I did? What's it to you?"

"Because you moved across the damned country to get away from your problems here. Hell, even now you look uncomfortable sitting at your own dinner table,"

"I wasn't uncomfortable five minutes ago," she argued back.

"Of course you were. I raised you, Eva, I know you better than you think," he replied, "I'm happy that you've found a life in California, but I beg of you, please, don't forget about the life you left here because it was hard. Even when it was, we still had each other to love, didn't we?"

The pattering of feet trotting down the stairs hit sharply at Eva's ears. Greg would be coming back any second and Magda would be well on her way to her boyfriend and kid. And they would try to resume conversation despite the heavy elephant that just plopped into the room. Eva knew this visit wouldn't be a walk in the park, and she knew her dad was right because at least if she'd rented a BnB she would've had some space to cleanse herself from the onslaught of things she was forced to feel in this house.

God, how she missed her apartment, and her cat. And Remington, most of all...

"Yeah," she muttered quietly, "We still have each other, Dad,"

[sleekervae]

Biter | Remington x Vera

Masterlist

A/N: Hi babes, I got around to making work out of this submission. Hope you all like it, I really do ☺️

Warnings: strong language, heavy smut, teeny tiny angst if you squint, Vera's a brat and Remington's a brat tamer

-

Vera cocked her head, as if that attempt would let her see out and around the popped hood of the car. Behind it was Remington, checking the engine, even though she was certain he wasn't able to fix what was wrong as much as she could tell what was wrong. She fanned her face with her hand, the air heavy and wet from the passing rain storm.

Heavy clouds blotted out the rising moon, casting bleary dark shadows across the expansive desert landscape.

As mush as Vera wanted to blame Remington for all of this, she knew it wasn't entirely his fault...

It wasn't though Vera didn't know what she signed up for. Remington was charismatic, a natural flirt, he came by it honestly. She'd made jokes about it to her friends. Though at the same time, she made comments because she knew Remington was a decent man. He wouldn't intentionally hurt her and despite the rumour on the street, he wasn't a womanizer.

But flirting? Absolutely within his wheelhouse, as easy as breathing, practically automatic when he was in a crowd. It was an innate power he'd learned to use if needed, he had put it to use when they first met after all.

She didn't peg Remington to be manipulative, but rather, so genuinely captivating that it knocked people's defences right down. And because it came so naturally to him, it flew over his head whenever it was thrown right back at him.

It had taken Vera a long time to realize that her friend, Daniella, was not as genuine as she put made out to be -- especially when she spent half of this party flirting with Vera's boyfriend. What aggravated Vera more was that Remington completely ignored it -- either he didn't realize it or it didn't bother him enough to say anything.

Deep down, she knew he probably didn't think much of it; it didn't merit causing a scene when it meant nothing to him, he was with Vera after all. But that wasn't how it felt and she couldn't stand the look on Daniella's face, that it seemed like she was getting away with murder. Like she actually had a shot with Vera's boyfriend.

Grabbing her sneakers, Vera abruptly decided she was leaving, the front door closing all the way before Remington realized she disappeared. He hopped to pull his own shoes on, haphazardly closing the door as she hit the sidewalk.

"Vera!"

She let out a huff, "Fuck it,"

Harsh? Absolutely, but she was feeling particularly vicious, deciding that the rain had let up enough that she could walk home. It was probably a twenty minute venture at most. The clouds were still hanging low int he sky, threatening to spill over without warning.

"What are you doing?"

She motioned to the sidewalk, "I'm gonna' perform a river dance," she snapped, "What does it look like? I'm going home before I say something I'll likely regret,"

She began walking, satisfied she had made her peace with the conversation... at least until they both got home. But she reckoned she ought to know better, because she knew Remington better, because she heard him running up behind her.

"C'mon, it's gonna start raining any second -- get in the car," he reached for her hand but she batted him away.

"Why don't you go see if Daniella needs a ride?" she bit back.

He rolled his eyes, "This wouldn't be a problem if you weren't making it a fucking problem," he replied.

She scoffed out with a laugh because -- seriously? She didn't bother wasting her time with a response, shaking her head as she kept walking. Though suddenly he jumped in front of her, crouching down to pick her up and throwing her over his shoulder.

"What the fuck!?" she struggled, "Put me down! Remington!" she hit at his back.

This was so ridiculous and if she wasn't so pissed off, this situation might actually be comical. Remington was tall, this was a piece of cake, and it's nothing he hadn't done before. He thought that this was some sort of plan -- putting her in the car like the baby she was pouting as. There had been plenty of times when he'd had her in his arms and she'd enjoyed it.

This wasn't one of them.

"Remi -- I'm fucking serious --!"

"Just get in the car and shut up. I'm not letting you walk home --"

Vera was seeing red, she didn't even realize what she was doing until she did it, dipping her head down and her teeth clamped down on his hand. Remington yelped out, instantly losing his balance and she slipped out of his grasp, falling onto the pavement. She sat up, flustered but amused knowing no one would believe her if she tried to talk about how this night was playing out.

"You fucking bit me!" he gaped, almost in disbelief, definitely angrier than before, "I can't believe you fucking bit me, are you serious!?"

Vera let out a sharp laugh, "You dropped me," she sneered, pushing her long hair out of her face, "I told you to put me down,"

"And so you bite me instead?" he asked, completely flabbergasted at her childishness.

"Fuck around and find out," she shrugged back.

They both paused when they heard another voice behind them.

"You two good?"

There was another partygoer on the steps of the house, clearing having watched their bullshit play out. Remington and Vera glanced at one another, exhaled heavily. He straighten his shoulders, still shaking out his hand and she nodded curtly to the stranger.

"Yeah," she replied as he muttered out a "Fine"

The partygoer didn't appear overly convinced, but he left them alone and started walking in the other direction.

Remington glanced back at the car, wincing as he felt a drop of water bounce off his nose. He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly to regain his composure, "Why does everything have to be a battle with you?"

"Just lucky I suppose," she tossed back.

He shook his head at her, "You gonna' stand up or what?"

Vera smirked, her anger dissipating into a mischievous mood as she held out her hands, and he obliged her as he hauled her to her feet. Her nose collided with his chest and he held her tightly in his arms, fingernails pressing into her skin. The look in his eyes was stern, his brown eyes darkened almost to jet black, annoyed with her clearly but he still cared deeply for her.

"You're mine," he whispered, his words raspy, shallow, "But in that same scenario I also belong to you. Nobody else matters to me but you, V,"

She believed him, he had proven himself to her time and time again and no matter how angry she wanted to be, he could always melt her resolve.

Maybe... just maybe... she had overreacted a little, "Fine. I'm sorry I yelled at you,"

"And?"

"And what?"

"You sorry for biting me?"

A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips, "Nope,"

He scoffed back, nonetheless he too started to smile. His baby was a firecracker, stubborn and hot headed and sometimes she could fly off the rails. But Vera was always going to be his baby.

"Brat," he simpered, "Would you like to go back inside? Or should we go home?"

"What's going to happen if we stay?" she pouted at him.

"I'm going to stick to you like glue, that's what," he replied proudly.

"And if we go home?"

Remington took in every detail of her, the fullness of her red lips and the slight blush on her cheeks. So soft and delicate and all his. Always his.

He brought his lips down to her hear, his words teetering on a whisper, "If we go right now, I won't prolong your punishment,"

A spark of excitement flooded through her belly, she smiled cheekily.

"Answer, V. Uses your words," Remington moved her hair behind her ear, his fingers traced along the line of her jaw, his thumb brushed at her bottom lip, "You know your punishment will only get worse,"

Not falling into her temptation was almost a crime. Especially as Vera stretched her neck, lips lingering just one millimeter away from his.

She gave him his answer as she pulled away, starting for the shotgun seat of his car.

Remington hopped in the car, turned up the heat and began to drive. Despite his promises he drove a little slower, prolonging her wait on purpose. His hand stayed on her thigh on the drive.

Vera let out a small breath, looking out the window -- she had always been fond of storm clouds. Of course, as much as the rain was necessary for the usually dry climate, the flooding was also treacherous if you weren't used to it. Nevertheless, watching rains pour out of the Nevada desert was always breathtakingly striking.

A shiver ran down her spine and Vera reached for the heat dial but Remington's hand was already moving, making sure that the vents were pointing in her direction. He was annoying, cocky, and hard headed, but he was always considerate of her.

They both jumped when they heard a sharp popping noise, followed by sputtering. Both hands gripped the wheel tightly as Remington pulled off to the side of the road just and the car slowed to a halt.

Shit.

"You okay?" Remington asked her.

"Yeah -- what happened?" he attempted to start the engine once, twice, but it had stalled. He hummed back an answer as he jumped out of the car, "Where are you going? I'll just call a tower,"

But he was a mechanic, he worked on these problems all the time, he didn't need a tow truck. The only thing was that he didn't have any tools with him to fix whatever had busted under his hood.

Vera had seen enough horror movies that started out this way -- stranded car, dead of night, nobody around... she frowned as she took a longer look out the window, assessing their surroundings as she took got out of the car.

She came around to stand beside him, staring cluelessly at the car parts, "Can you fix it?"

"Of course I can fix it," he nodded.

She stared curiously at him, "You don't have your tools, do you?"

"Nope," he slammed the car hood down, looking around their area. Home wasn't far, maybe another ten minute walk, doable, "Fuck it, we'll walk,"

They began to walk down the road, passing the odd house that would eventually lead them back to their neighbourhood. Remington winced and looked down at their joined hands, a soft laugh slipped out of Vera's lips, "Sorry, that the bad hand?"

"I can't believe you drew blood,"

"I did not," she chuckled back, "Drama queen,"

"Rriiiiigghhtt," he smirked, "I'm the drama queen,"

Her best response was to stick her tongue out at him.

The good news was it didn't take too long to get back home. The bad news was the rain had indeed returned halfway, pouring down on them like hellfire. Remington and Vera ran as fast as they could until they came up to their walk.

Remington ransacked his pockets for the keys and she shook out her damp hair, running inside and shaking the cold off as best as they could.

"I'll get the towels," she remarked, kicking off her sneakers and running for the linen closet. Having a heat system in Nevada wasn't so much of a necessity, but boy, did Remington wish they'd invested in one. But their one saving grace was a fireplace; he lit a match and stoked the wood until the embers burned and the flames flickered.

Vera returned a moment later, damp, small, clutching towels to her chest. She was adorable, so mean and vicious one moment and the next she was staring at him like a bright-eyed bunny rabbit.

"God, look at you," he murmured, taking the towels and draping one over her shoulders, "Warm enough?"

She nodded, "You?"

He hummed lightly, hands moving against her arms under the towel, "I'll warm up plenty," he watched her for a long moment, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "I'm sorry about before, with Daniella,"

She let out a soft noise that sounded like a strangled chuckle, "You're just saying that because you want to kiss me," a small joke, but she did hear the genuine inflection in Remington's tone.

He smiled, "Maybe," he pecked her temple and her eyes fluttered shit. Remington drew her thumb along her jawline, his other resting on her waist, "I mostly ignore her when she starts like that," which was something Vera considered, "But I didn't realize it bothered you,"

"It does bother me," she lifted her chin to look up at him. And she realized that this was a conversation she really needed to have with her friend, since she was the one who always started this mess in the first place.

Remington nodded, "Won't happen again, hand of God,"

And despite how much she wanted to pout, she couldn't quite do it standing before him, the shadows from the fire flickered on the strong lines of his face, the sharp edges. She licked her lips, glancing at his, and she kissed him.

"Should I help you warm up?"

He smirked against her mouth, his hands slipped up under her shirt.

It didn't take very long to lose their clothing, Remington picked her up again only to land on the couch, smothering her with kisses along she shoulders, her breasts, down her sternum and stomach.

She squeezed her thighs together, the simmering heat in her belly spreading thick and heavy like molasses.

"What is it with you picking me up?" she mused curiously.

Remington settled between her legs, grinning coyly, "Like you don't like it,"

The heat of his body along her inner thighs was driving Vera a little crazy and instead of dignifying that comment with a response, she leaned up to kiss him instead. She wanted to touch him, feel every ripple of his muscle shudder under touch, whining as he collected her hands together and forced her arms over her head.

Her hips thrusted against his own, struggling to get loose as he reached for his belt off the floor. She began to laugh.

"You're still gonna' punish me?" she awed, feigning a pout.

He smirked as he tied her wrists together snug, not too tight, not too loose, "You bit me. You think you get to get away with that?"

She turned her head into the cushion, blushing heavily under his sneer. She butt wiggled against the leather, her naked erection rubbing against her hip and she whined, impatient for him, excited all the same.

Remington gently pushed her thighs further apart, licking his lips at the flushed colour between her legs, his fingers slipped inside of her so easily and she squirmed on the spot.

Regardless of how many times they'd fucked, Remington always wanted to stretch her out, making her gasp out, moaning sinfully. Vera never tired of this he was so good at taking his time. He kissed her thighs, plush lips like the softest feathers against her skin, the anticipating pleasure was quickly replaced with a stinging pain as he brought his hand down on her ass. She cried out in surprise.

"Here's the rules. I'm going to play down here for a minute. One whole minute," he ran his hand over the spot he's spanked, caressing it carefully, "You have to count out loud to a minute. If you falter, or stop for whatever reason, you get one of these --" he brought his hand on her cheek again, a filthy sound echoed from the collision. Vera jolted back, not expecting that he'd go hard immediately, "And we have to start all over again. Think you can do it?"

His hardened length was obvious against her hip, but he ignored his own need in favour of grinding his thigh against her. Vera inhaled deeply, her heart racing in her chest but she was excited. She loved taking on a good challenge.

"Bring it on,"

He smirked, hovering right above where she needed him, blowing a puff of hot air over her quivering sex before diving in like a man starved. Vera jolted, he wasn't holding back. His skillful tongue worked over her aching clit with precision, causing her to throw your head back into the pillows and let out a heavy sigh of pleasure.

He spanked her again, took his mouth away.

"Start counting," he ordered, sneaking one finger down to her sopping entrance, using her slick to aid him in sliding it inside of her. She took a deep breath and began counting.

"One... two... three.."

His lips wrapped firmly around her bundle of nerves and he sucked harshly, making her cry out between numbers. He used this momentary distraction to slip a second finger inside her waiting hole, beginning to scissor his fingers inside of her to stretch her out. He made come-hither motions with his dexterous fingers, hitting her g spot repeatedly while never letting up on the assault to her clit, his tongue drawing figure eights on the sensitive bundle.

"... Fourteen... Fifteen... Six -- ah. Owh!"she felt she could jump off the couch as he spanked her again. She couldn't help it, his ministrations took her to another dimension of pleasure. It was then she realized just how hard this was going to be.

"Fuck,"

"Again,"

The cycle repeated, over and over again. Remington used his tongue to destroy her, suckling, nipping, penetrating her, all the while keeping a sharp ear out for her counting. Every pause, every gasp, any flicker of hesitation, she got a smack. And she had to start again. Of course he was the master of teasing her, commenting on her arousal, how good she tasted, how he couldn't wait to be inside of her. All she had to do was count to sixty without pause, and she could have it all.

"... Twenty-nine... thirty... -- fuck!" she cried out when he suddenly flicked her clit hard, continuing to beat down on the sensitive bud as he delivered the next blow. Her skin was beginning to burn, her resolve breaking, tears brimming for the pain and the pleasure.

She couldn't help it when her hips started to move on their own accord to relieve the pressure, but he pinched her hip as a warning, "Hold still," he was staring at her with dark eyes, drunk on lust and power, his lips and chin glistening with her, "You finish one whole round and I'll let you come,"

She wanted to scream, fight back, plead, beg, promise anything so long as he let her off. But she bit her lip, nodding in desperation, and it was enough for Remington go dive back in again, eating her like she was his last meal. It could never be just a taste with Vera, he always needed more of her; her sweetness overpowered his taste buds, her wetness dribbling down his chin, the delicious sounds she's make because of how good he was making her feel. More of her, everything.

"One... two... three... four..."

Staying still was already difficult but Remington tortured her some more, bringing his fingers back to play with her. While he sucked on her fold, two digits teased her entrance, sliding deeper into her.

"... Thirty-one... thirty-two... thirty-three..."

God, she's beautiful, he remarked to himself, all needy and desperate for him; but then again she was always so beautiful. Even when she had a long day at work and her makeup was messy, when she was so fixated on whatever show they were watching, her teeth biting through her lip when they were in the process of a job.

"...Fifty-six... fifty-seven... fifty-eight... fifty-nine... sixty," she let out a heavy gasp, feeling as though she'd just run a marathon. She finally did it. Her soft voice pulled him back to reality, his head momentarily filled with innocent thoughts about how much he loved her while his fingers were still very much scissoring her open, his tongue hammering on her clit.

"Remi, please,"

The smuggest man alive, he sped up his ministrations, revelling in how her moans increased, her body grew taught. His free hand snuck its way from his hip to her bare breast, fondling, teasing one of her nipples as it pebbled up. It felt incredible.

At this point, his cock was so painfully hard against the couch that Remington found himself raising his hips every now and then in shallow trusts, hoping to relieve the throbbing in crotch he wanted to make her come from his mouth first, fucking her later was the prize.

If only she wasn't tied up, Vera could at least stimulate her other breast, not that he wasn't doing his job well, "so close, baby..."

He chuckled darkly, "Come on..." he muttered against her, his tongue flicking her clit repeatedly with his fingers teasing and pinching her nipple, "Come for me. Come all over me, sweet girl,"

With his fingers relentlessly fucking her hole and stimulating her nipples, his tongue hammering down on her, it didn't take long before a white hot heat ripped through her, every part of her body tingled deliciously, his name spilled from her lips as she fluttered around his fingers. She could've cried from the overwhelming pleasure. She gushed and soaked his hand and mouth, but he eagerly lapped it all up, not letting a single drop of her go to waste. He didn't stop fucking her even after her orgasm had ceased and her body began to relax again.

When she came back down, Remington was still slowly, diligently licking her, this time with tenderness and dedication. If she had fucked his face before, now he was making out with her cunt, with tender kisses and fond caresses of his tongue.

“Quite a show, sweet girl,” he murmured. She brought her tied wrists down, smacking his shoulder. He laughed heartily.

He had loved watching her breasts bounce, her head thrown back, her thighs wiggling at the way she was grinding on him. And her face — sweet mercy, her face…

He was lost in her.

"Your brothers are gonna' kill us," she panted, now registering that they were still at the party.

Remington chuckled and shrugged, “They’ll simply be jealous of not having you as theirs,” he reached up to undo the belt, gently bringing her arms back down, "Are you okay?"

"Yes," the first thing she did was bring her hands to his face, pulling him to her for a kiss.

"Was it too much?" he stroked her cheek.

She shook her head, giggling quietly, "I mean -- kind of... but that's the point of punishment, right?" his eyes were clear of his stern demeanour before, no trace of malevolence, only adoration to match his soft, boyish grin.

"Right," he kissed her shoulder, his erection was grinding on her hip. He was needy for her, but he wanted to give her a moment to recover, "Think you can go again?"

"Gimme' two minutes?" she pleaded, batting her lashes at him.

"How about I give you five?"

"Deal," he snuggled up on top of her, his body heat obliterating her in tandem with the heat from the fire. Their lips painted across whatever patches of skin they could reach, hands caressing, soothing over sweaty limbs.

His erection continued to throb against her hip, she took mercy on him, “I’m gonna blow you,” she whispered, more as a declaration than a request.

He whined, but still obliged her as they switched positions, fixing his arms behind his head, getting comfortable, “It’ll be the easiest orgasm ever,”

Vera giggled and settled between his legs, her free hand smoothing over the skin of his hip, “Damn, you’re delicious,” she murmured, staring at him, tracing the pulsating vein crawling up his length.

He hissed and thrusted up.

"Vera?"

"Yes Remington?"

"... Please don't bite me,"

She laughed, wasting no time: she swallowed half of him and grabbed the rest with her hand, drooling aplenty to get some lubrication in her palm.

Three strokes and Remington's hips started gyrating, the salty, bitter flavour of him already hitting her tongue.

“I fucking love you, V,” he spoke through gritted teeth, “I fucking love your sweet cunt on my face and your sweet throat around my cock,” she bobbed her head on him even more enthusiastically, “I love every damn thing about you, baby,"

He was so far gone and she was so helplessly proud of it.

He spilled inside her in a minute, and she took him diligently, not wasting a drop of him.

His orgasm was endless and he was wrecked by the time it ended, oversensitivity making him hiss and fuss.

She gasped out for air, wiping her mouth clean and headed back up, at his side.

As he stared into her eyes, his eyelids lowering sultrily into exhaustion, she pressed your dirty fingers to his lower lip, tracing it enticingly before he parted his lips.

Tentatively, she rolled on top of him before planting her lips on his, pushing her tongue to his mouth until he opened it, allowing her to slide into the cave where he was still treasuring the taste of you. He arched up and wrapped his lips around her tongue, sucking it into his mouth.

It became one more sloppy make out session, where he managed to earn out one more lazy, weak climax as he rubbed himself against her hip.

And then they found themselves laying side by side in the disastrous aftermath of an exceedingly sloppy, wet session of oral sex.

Not even in her worst night Vera had managed to make half the mess she was seeing in that moment.

“We're in trouble,” she commented, Remington peacefully kissing her chest while he breathed in and out, his eyes closed, "We need to clean up before they get home,"

“Just a minute,” he debated before hearing you dissent.

“Come on, baby. You can nap on the tiddies later. Let’s go,”

“I want cuddles,” he spoke through a pout.

That made her heart melt. “I’ll cuddle you after we shower,”

“Can we take a bath instead?”

She chuckled, “We can take a bath, baby,” she kissed the top of his head. She had no idea who was the messier between the two of them at the moment, she only knew it was her turn to take care of her sweet boy tonight.