#we called her the charcuterie chapter

[lostbookmark]

MDNI 🔞

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Summary: You thought planning your wedding was going to be a magical memory. You didn't realize that it might make you second guess everything.

Pairing: Fiancée Yoongi x Insecure F. Reader

Genre: Romance, Angst, Smut, Hurt-ComfortWarnings: Explicit Sex, Toxic Family Dynamics, Arguments, Sex Toys, Self Doubt, Over Thinking, Yoongi Overworking Himself, Reader Needs To Speak Up.

A/N: I started chapter 8, and my goodness did it get dramatic.

“They both look the same to me,” Yoongi says as he examines the invitations that he is holding in his hands.

He rests his elbows on his knees as he sits on his leather couch. His dark eyes dart between the two wedding invitations in his hands, pondering over which one he likes best. You sit across from him patiently waiting for him to make his decision. You think that he looks cute looking at them with such sharp attention.

“No, no, one is black with white writing and the other is white with black writing,” you tell him as you watch his eyes continue to go back and forth between the 5x7 pieces of cardstock. “And, supposedly, they are in two different fonts.”

“They are literally the same font,” he tells you as he brings them closer to his face to examine the lettering more carefully.

“I said supposedly,” you defend.

“They look the same,” he repeats once again. “I like the black with white writing,” Yoongi finally decided and handed them both back to you. You place the winner in your bag and throw the other on his table to recycle later. “I like the little bow on it, too. It was a nice touch.”

“Great, now what about a plated dinner for the reception or a buffet style? Plated options would be the normal chicken, steak, or fish,” you ask next. “The winery offers charcuterie boards as appetizers, but we are responsible for the catering.”

Yoongi leans back on his couch and cocks his head to the side in thought as he crosses his arms over his chest. He looks quite relaxed in his contemplation as he rests his ankle over his knee. It makes you happy that he is weighing his options carefully. That he is taking this seriously. Jimin and Hobi were actually the ones to give you the idea to narrow some easy choices down and let Yoongi pick from there. You had easily agreed with them hoping that by doing this it would feel like Yoongi was actually helping you. You also knew that he probably felt guilty for not helping as much as he should and that made you feel guilty in return for him feeling guilty. So, in the end you hoped it would ease his worries, your stress and all the damn guilt.

“Buffet, more options that way,” he says with a satisfied nod. “We could have a noodle bar, and maybe we can have your oh so precious rolls catered.”

“That is the best idea ever. Jisoo offered to call around to places and get some prices once we decided,” You tell him as you take out your phone to text her. “We have to get our guest list done sooner than later. The invitations will take about two weeks to get here once I put in the order. I only have like seven people to invite, and two are in the wedding, so the guest list is mainly up to you.”

“Come here, baby,” Yoongi says, patting the couch cushion next to him. “Let's relax for a minute.”

You get up from his chair, place your phone on his table, and make your way to sit next to him. Yoongi slings his arm around you as he reclines back against the cushions, taking you with him. You turn into his body and lay your cheek on his chest, taking in the sound of his thumping heartbeat. Your finger absentmindedly traces the smooth black vinyl letters on his white shirt as you close your eyes in relaxation.

“We need to hire a photographer as well,” you comment.

“Baby, relax,” Yoongi commands you softly.

Moments like this are a few and far between for the two of you. Usually, when you're here, it's to drop off food during your lunch break or to clean up for him quickly before you head home for another night alone in a cold bed. His studio has pretty much become his main place of living. Although you would rather be in your shared apartment, you don't want to take this moment for granted. He's here. You're here. The both of you together and enjoying an actual moment together. It doesn't matter how small of a moment it is. You are going to cherish it.

“Where do you think you would be if we never met again?” He asks quietly as his thumb draws small circles on the back of your shoulder.

“What?” You ask with a light laugh. You look up at him, resting your chin on his chest, but his eyes are closed. “What are you talking about? Where did that question even come from?”

“Let's say, I left earlier that night from the restaurant and didn't see you. What if I just didn't recognize you? What if I wasn't hungry that night and didn't go with Hobi and Jimin? What would you be doing right now?” he asked again. His eyes still remained closed as his thumb still continued with the lazy circles.

“Umm,” you had to think for a minute. “I guess I would probably still be working at that horrible office just barely scraping by. I wouldn't have had a reason to quit. My family situation probably would have never changed. I would probably be drinking wine with the girls as Lisa tells Jisoo and I about her latest boyfriend. Everything would probably be the same as before. Lonely and monotonous.”

“You don't think you would have been dating anyone?” he asked next, his hand running up and down the expanse of your back and side.

“Well, I mean, Kai was putting his best moves on me,” you say jokingly and smirking up at him. “You know he is a pretty big deal, right? Model, actor, and now singer. Damn, I missed my chance.”

Yoongi growled at you and threw himself on top of your body. You fall onto your side, landing on the unoccupied cushions as his fingers dance along your sides, tickling you underneath your shirt. Laughing, you try to push him off you, but he is way too strong for you.

“Apologize and take it back,” he growls into your neck as his fingers still tickle your side. His teeth lightly sink into the smooth skin of your neck. “Take it back, now.”

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Yoongi, please,” you laugh out loud as your hands lightly slap him away.

Yoongi finally pulls away and brings you back into your original position. You wrap your arm around his stomach and sling your leg over his. He is so warm, and you just want to soak in it. You want to close your eyes and go to sleep surrounded by that warmth. Surrounded by his scent, which barely lingers on his pillow anymore. You wish you could wrap it all up and take it home with you. Maybe it would make you feel a little less lonely.

“You know that little weasel is around here somewhere,” he informs you as he closes his eyes again, holding you tighter to him. “He's working with Hobi, I think. I kind of skipped the email when I saw his name attached to it.”

“I don't care about him,” you say, snuggling against him more. You slid your hand up his shirt and rested it on his bare chest. You just needed to feel his skin. “I don't know, honestly. I'm sure Lisa would have a string of blind dates lined up for me, and I would make up some sort of excuse to cancel on them. I really don't think that I would be seeing anyone. What about you?”

“What about me?” he asks, finally opening his eyes and looking down at you.

“Okay, let's say you had a girlfriend when we met outside the bar. What would have happened then?” You counter. “I would like to assume that we wouldn't have gone home together that night.”

“That would have never happened,” he said with certainty and a shake of his head. “I didn't date.”

“Like at all?” You raise an eyebrow in question and look at him warily. “Was there no one after my sister?”

“Oh there were women…I…just didn't date them,” he said, smirking. You poke him hard on his side. “Ow, violent.”

“Seriously, I answered your question,” you pout. “Answer my question honestly.”

“Okay, if I had a girlfriend,” he said with a sigh and a tilt of his head. “I wouldn't have cheated, but I wouldn't have stayed with her. I don't think I could have gone through life with you just being a friend. I tried just being your friend before and look what happened there.”

You hear your phone chime. You sigh, you know that it is probably your mom, but hopefully it's Jisoo answering you back. You've been ignoring your mom since your little outburst on the phone the other day. She even got your dad and his girlfriend to text you to figure out what was going on. You explained to them that you were pretty sure she was trying to build her own dream wedding. He told you just to ignore her, and his girlfriend was ready to tell her to shove it where the sun didn't shine.

“Do you want to know something?” you ask quietly, ignoring your phone on the table.

“What?” he asks just as quietly.

“You were only my second,” you admit, and you bite your lip at your admission.

He shifts you a little bit so he can fully look at you. His eyes study your face, resting on his chest with confusion swirling in dark eyes. His eyebrows furrow, and he purses his lips in thought. You don’t know why he is taking so long to answer. His silence is making you nervous. It's making you feel like you should have never said anything. It made you feel like such a loser admitting your inexperience as if he probably couldn't tell the first time you were together.

“What do you mean I'm you second? I'm your second, what?” he asked, still confused.

“You know,” you mumble, your face turning red. “The second guy I ever…” you drift off and cast your eyes away from him.

“Fucked?” he asked with pure surprise on his face. “Really?”

“Yes and don't say it like that,” you say, hiding your face in his chest. “Why do you sound so surprised? I'm awkward, and it was always worse around boys.”

“Baby, you're fucking beautiful,” he tells you.

Your eyes take a peek up at him. His face is serious. He gently moves the hair out of your face that had fallen obstructing his view of you. His eyes are soft as they look at you, and you want to hide away from them.

“You're biased,” you whisper, and he shakes his head no. “Yes, you are.”

A comfortable silence falls between the two of you again. You look up at him again, and he seems lost in thought. His eyebrows are furrowed as if he is thinking hard.

“Was it that kid?” he asked, suddenly sitting up and his eyes widened in realization.

“Who?” you asked in confusion, sitting up right next to him.

“That Woo….whatever his name was,” he asked. “That little shit who you got drunk with at that dance.”

“Wooseok?” You asked, throwing your head back laughing.

“Don't say his name,’ he said slowly with a deadly glare, making you roll your eyes. “I’ll hunt him down. I swear I will.”

“I told you it didn't go any further than the hickey. I didn't lose my virginity behind an equipment shed with Lisa right next to me,” you assured him, still laughing. “You saw them. He was not in any condition to do anything that night.”

“I always kind of thought you lied to me about that,” he admitted quietly. “I don't want to know who it was. I'm just happy it wasn't him.” He gets quiet and stares at you for a minute before speaking again. “Who was it?”

You laugh and push him back down with your hand to his chest, resuming your previous position. “Do you really want to know?” you asked, and he shook his head no.

“Good because I honestly don't remember his name.” You do honestly try to recall his name…Dave…Devin? You're not even sure it began with a D.

“You know,” he said, breaking you out of your thoughts. “I think that we would have always found each other again.”

“You think?” you ask.

“Jimin and Lisa would have met anyway no matter our timing that night. That means I would have met her as Jimin's girlfriend eventually. Which, in turn, means I would have inquired about you and probably would have asked her for your number. We would have always met. It just would have been a little later.” He explains.

“So, we are kind of destined to be together, huh?” You ask with a small smile on your face.

“Absolutely,” Yoongi kisses the top of your head. His thumb runs back and forth against the skin of your side. “And I wouldn't have it any other way.”

The insistent knocking on your door has you groaning as you get off the couch. Making your way to the door, you open it to see your two best friends carrying a deep red trunk, and it looked like they were struggling with it. Lisa pretty much knocks you out of the way as they enter your apartment, and you have to catch yourself on the wall so you don't fall over. They place the heavy looking trunk down in the middle of the living room and stare at you as they try and catch their breaths.

“Is Yoongi home?” Lisa asked, flinging a piece of her hair out of her face.

“No, why? What is that?” You asked, looking at Jisoo, hoping she will have the answers.

“No idea,” she answers with a shrug. “She wouldn't tell me.”

“Listen, because you and Yoongi are absolutely boring and don't want a bachelor/bachelorette party, I graciously still got you a gift,” Lisa explains and gestures to the decent sized red trunk.

“I'm scared,” you whisper, eyeing the trunk.

“So am I,” Jisoo says, sharing your sentiment.

Lisa smirks and motions for you and Jisoo to help pick the trunk back up. The three of you make your way to the bedroom and together, fling the red trunk on the bed with what little muscles you all had. Thankfully, the physical trunk itself felt heavier than whatever was inside of it.

“Sorry, I didn't think it was this heavy when I ordered it. I should have read the description,” Lisa apologized. “Okay, sweets, open it.”

Your hands undo the two black latches on the front and slowly open the lid. You hear Jisoo gasp and slap something. You are pretty sure that something was Lisa's arm, but you were too much of a shock to really care.

“You got her…toys,” Jisoo hissed. “That is soooo inappropriate. Some things should just stay private.”

“It's just sex toys, and it's for the both of them,” Lisa claps her hands together happily like she did you a favor. “I don't know why you seem so shocked, Jisoo. I've seen what's in your closet. You and Seungkwan get freaky. Good for you! I didn't know that you had it in you.”

Jisoo's eyes widen, and she turns the deepest shade of red that you have ever seen. Without a word, you watch as she practically runs out of your bedroom and down the hall. The slamming of your front door tells you she left. You wonder what the hell she has in her closet, but honestly, you don't want to think of Seungkwan that way.

“Umm, I don't know….thanks….I guess,” you say, turning back to Lisa and her...present.

“Oh come on,” Lisa says, putting her hands on her hips. “You and Yoongi are already like an old married couple. I'm just trying to help you keep the spice alive in the bedroom. He is the strong, silent type, and by my personal experience….they are the best, but they sometimes need a little push.”

“We don't have any issues with that,” you mumble and shuffle your socked feet against the carpet. You think you might just be as red as Jisoo was. “Oh really, when was the last time he was actually home? I'm not talking about a quickie,” Lisa asks you seriously. “When was the last time he actually took his time with you? Jimin said that Yoongi has been sleeping at the studio every night.”

“I don't know,” you admit and look at the…things inside the chest.

“Well, then some of these will definitely help you when you miss him, and some will be fun to use with him,” Lisa said. “Look, you have your standard vibrators in different sizes, shapes, and colors, a personal massager,” she says, holding up the objects one at a time. “This….”

“What is that?” You ask, interrupting her. You grab onto a colorful object that is pink and purple and very, very textured. “Is this a… tentacle?” You whisper in shock.

“Sure is!” she exclaims. “It looks like fun and has a lot of five-star reviews. You'll have to let me know how that one goes. I was thinking about getting me and Jimin one but in a different color because that would be weird if we had the same one.”

“It looks scary,” you correct her and drop it back in the trunk.

“Lighten up, sweets,” Lisa said, hugging you from behind. “I'll leave and let you go through everything in private. Also, if you want a sure-fire way to get your man home. Send him a picture with one of these bad boys. He will come running. Oh, by the way, everything is cleaned and charged.”

With a wink, she leaves you the bedroom alone with the goods that she bought you. Even though you are alone now, your face still heats up when you look at them. You reach your hand in and see there are a few…non scary items in there. Blindfolds and other silk fabrics that look very tame and non-threatening . You gulp hard, however, when you find a pair of what you think are black leather handcuffs. Dropping them back in, you shut the lid quickly and avoid the other objects in the box. One day, maybe you'll find the courage to go through them. Maybe…a big, maybe. You will probably need a couple of drinks first.

You sit down on the bed while latching the red box shut. You are not quite sure how you are supposed to react to Lisa's gift. You've never owned anything like that, and at 23, you shouldn't be getting embarrassed about the thought of using them. Since Yoongi came along, your whole world was thrown upside down when it came to the topic of sex. You finally discovered how good being intimate with someone can make you feel. Not just physically but how it made your heart feel so warm. You almost worry if he will be mad and offended when he sees what was gifted to you. Lisa and obviously Jisoo seem to think that it's perfectly normal to have these kinds of things. You still wonder what's in Jisoo's closet.

Sighing, you stand up and drag the heavy trunk off your bed. It lands on your floor with such a heavy thud that you hope your downstairs neighbor isn't home to complain about it. Pulling with both hands, you drag it over to the closet and push it off to the side and into the corner of the wall. Grabbing one of your many extra blankets that you have stashed away, you throw it on top along with a few of Yoongi's hoodies that were on the floor. You hide it away the best you can , you have no plans to tell Yoongi about it. Absolutely not. Plus, he is never home to find it anyway.

Your phone chimes from the living room. Stepping out of the closet, you walk out of the bedroom. You head to the side table by the couch in the living room where you left your phone laying plugged in and charging. Swiping your phone open. You freeze as you look at the message.

One word.

Two letters.

Hi

Your sister.

Tagged Readers:

@mggv97, @granataepfelchen, @kam9404, @svnbangtansworld, @futuristicenemychaos,

[saintslewis]

❝ 𝐂𝐎𝐙𝐘 ❞

𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 — 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒

˖ ࣪⭑ - pairing: lewis hamilton x fem!oc

˖ ࣪⭑ - summary: imagine you go for dinner at your neighbours house and you’re told you’re getting married? you better get cozy for this one!

˖ ࣪⭑ - warnings for this chapter: none

˖ ࣪⭑ - saint’s team radio: hey y’all…. i told you guys i don’t have a planned schedule for this series and i’m really starting to think i should 😭. i hope you guys enjoy this and lemme know if you wanna be tagged 🤭

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"Renaissance yachtin' in capri!" Nadia sang as she entered the driveway of the Hamiltons only a week after the first dinner. Knowing her mother's dramatics, Thembi had once again requested her presence at the home except she had to drive straight to the Hamiltons house. Finding the situation weird but not giving it a second thought, she parked next to the all black G63, one of her many dream cars and one she hadn't seen the last time she was here. Thinking it was just a simple visit (and Thembi hadn't given her a chance to dress up after the phone call), Nadia fixed the Nike tee and adjusted the biker shorts she had worn throughout her chill Saturday morning.

Knocking on the wooden door felt weird, given that she was welcomed into the house before but she felt like something quite suspicious was going on but she couldn't even figure it out. Rubbing her eye whilst waiting for someone to answer the door, she wrote a few reminders on her phone to not forget to complete the work she had to take home from the previous day.

"Well aren't you a ray of sunshine?" Nadia had recognised the voice to be Nicola, adding a little laugh after her sentence. "I woke up late so this is valid." Nadia replied, giving a smile as she entered the house with Nicola making room for her to walk in. After the first dinner, the two women had kept in touch because of the growing friendship and Willow, who would send a voice message every day to say hi. But this time, Nadia couldn't hear the kids laughing or playing around the house.

Oh, this was serious.

"Is that Nadia, darling?" Linda's voice chimed through the entrance hallway leading to the living room. "Hello Mrs Hamilton." The young woman greeted, giving Linda a side eye as she held a glass of water in her hand. "Please Nadia, rather call me Linda. Do come through, my dear!"

"We're out by the patio, need the bathroom before we start?" Nicola asked, making Nadia way more confused the more footsteps she took. "Start with what?" She trailed off, seeing Nicola just smile and head into the direction of the patio with her following. This was officially starting to get weird but Nadia chose to push her thoughts aside for this lunch.

"Oh she's here! How was the drive, Nads?" Her mom spoke up as soon as Nadia's foot hit the wooden floor of the large patio. Different types of charcuterie boards were placed with juices and waters to accommodate everyone but the atmosphere seemed so different from the dinner last week, it rather felt like a meeting.

"Helloooo." Nadia dragged out the greeting as she eventually found an empty seat, once again, next to Lewis. The man was genuinely a sight to see as the sun shined on him as he sat comfortably on the patio bench chair. Wearing a black NY cap, a graphic tee once again with a pair of jeans this time and his jewellery on display, Lewis smiled up at her with a toothy grin.

After personally greeting everyone around the table and answering their fast questions, she plopped down onto the chair with a few of her bracelets clanging together. The familiar scents of each other from the last time they met fused together as they both studied each other once again.

Nadia's tattoos were finally on display, each dainty artwork fluttered around her skin with a few being inked in red. The most noticeable thing being her hair as she changed the colour to black and it reached past her back. The makeup was very simple and she only carried her phone and lipgloss in her hand as she placed the overly cracked device onto the table right next to Lewis'. When she smiled, he noticed a small gem on one of her front teeth and he definitely admired her style, not one he would regularly picture on a high school teacher.

"You know Nadia, we were just talking about how odd it would be to suddenly become famous within a matter of hours." Linda started, grabbing the large jug of grape juice to give the girl a glass. Helping the older woman, Nadia lifted herself off the chair and gave Lewis a look, non verbally asking if it was true and his eyebrows furrowed whilst pursing his lip upwards, making Nadia smile a little.

"Really? In what aspects?" She sat back down, lifting the glass to her gloss covered lips and only taking little sips. "Oh just how you'd maybe have to close off social media for a while and suddenly having people around you to help with everything." Linda said, taking her glass of water and eyeing Nadia's mom after her sentence. Tilting her head in confusion, she made sure to sit comfortably as this was definitely an interesting conversation.

"I never really thought about it like that actually. The way teams assemble within a matter of hours is something else but I always hear my students say that they're one hundred percent ready for fame." Nadia watched the two older women constantly look at each other with the older men being suspiciously quiet. "Oh and don't even get me started on the scandals you're put through." Nicola submerged from the house, holding a fresh pizza on a wooden board with an extra plate.

"Lewis, you'd know a thing or two about these things right?" Nicola smirked as she placed the plate on the opposite side of the table. Snapping her head towards Lewis, he sighed then nodded before straightening up his posture as it was before. Now Nadia was incredibly confused. Although she spent at least two hours in conversation with Lewis, she never really found out what exactly he does for a living even though he knew what she did as she went on a whole rant about her day with the teenagers. The way he had carried himself whilst speaking with everyone and just how he listened made it seem like he could be a businessman of some sort that clearly made his money and he made it well as he wore jewellery pieces that she could only dream of seeing.

A beat of silence passed and a knock on the door was heard. "Oh, that must be Gerald." Anthony got up in quite a hurry, with the table falling into conversation to detour the previous topic. After the man was welcomed onto the patio, he placed his small briefcase next to him on the chair with Nadia's suspicions growing more and more.

But what if he was really just there for lunch?

The word 'deactivate' kept being thrown around between Nicola, Thembi and Linda for several minutes, snapping Nadia and Lewis out of their conversation on her tattoos. "Nads, come here really quickly and bring your phone." Her mom ordered as the young girl walked to their side of the table. Standing over all three women, she held her phone in front of her mom's face. "How do you deactivate your Instagram? Nicola here made one for me but i don't want it anymore." Thembi asked, once again eyeing Linda.

Showing the directions on her own phone, Nadia then became distracted by her stepdad's question. "Nads, do you know when Rea's flight lands? Will you be okay to go?" He asked, slightly jumping at something. "Yes, I'll be fine. Her flight lands at like two in the morning so after here I'll just finish up some work then go to the airport early." Nadia responded, feeling her hand move a little as she spoke to James.

Thembi tapped her daughter's hand as Nadia focused back on her phone. Seeing her instagram page now logged out, she groaned at the thought of her completely forgetting her password to it. Plopping back into her seat defeated, Lewis eyed her then her phone that she placed on the table. "You good?" He asked, turning his body to look at her. "I think I  accidentally logged myself out of insta and i forgot where i wrote down the password." Nadia frowned a little as she clasped her hands together. Even though he didn't want to seem like he was smiling at her misery but the little pout she had on her face was adorable and obviously he wasn't going to admit that anytime soon.

"Okay, I cannot do this anymore." Anthony announced out as he sighed which caught everyone's attention. "Dad, what's going on?" Lewis asked worried, he had noticed his father was quiet most of the time but he brushed it off knowing that his father was usually like this.

"Son, listen. I know what I'm about to say will sound insane but I need you to listen very carefully. Along with you too, Nadia." Anthony stated. Linda then stood next to her husband in terror. "Wait, Anthony. Are you sure you want to do this right now?" She muttered.

And now the uneasy feeling came right back.

"Lewis, you know I care for you deeply however these past few weeks have been tough for you... and pr." His dad started off, earning a sigh from Lewis and a pinch on the bridge of his nose. Seeing Lewis stress like this was weird for Nadia and what exactly did his father mean by PR? Anyone could tell that he wanted to say something but chose to keep quiet.

Now sitting up properly, Nadia was intrigued with the entire situation and wondered how famous Lewis actually was.

"Linda and I, along with Nadia's parents and Nicola have decided that we wanted to help you to clean up your image a little more even though you are a private person. And for that, we've come up with the concept of a fake marriage between you and Nadia." Anthony concluded and took his seat.

It was as if the blood from Nadia completely left her face after that very last sentence however her face stayed extremely neutral. Her face rather snapped towards her parents who were avoiding eye contact with her.

The silence was so loud, the birds chirping ever so slightly as if they were part of the plan as well. Looking at everyone's face, anyone could tell that this had probably been discussed many times before. "What?" Nadia being the first one to say something, spoke in a monotone voice.

"Look we wanted to see how you two would get along when you first met and it had seemed to work very well. We're only really looking out for you, Lewis. These rumours have kinda taken a toll on you." Nicola voiced, seeing that their faces were stoic yet burning daggers into everyone's skulls.

Finally looking at each other, Lewis and Nadia's eyes met with no source of attraction to each other in that present moment. "This is crazy." Lewis muttered to himself as he shook his head whilst looking down at his shoes.

"Okay." Nadia said, crossing her arms and looked at her mom directly. "Okay?" Lewis grumbled with slightly narrowed eyes to the girl. "Yeah. Clearly this is important and stuff so I'll do it." Nadia responded with a calm facade but she was truly screaming on the inside, her leg shaking underneath the table. Shocked as he was at her nonchalant response to the situation, he slumped back and chose to not speak up in front of guests. Lewis wasn't frustrated in the slightest but he was just extremely confused.

"What about the details?" Lewis sighed, feeling through his beard and accepting his fate.

"Wait, you're actually doing this?" Thembi expressed. If anything, Thembi felt embarrassed to even coming up with this suggestion thinking that it was going to help the driver and his many social problems. "Ma, please tell us the details before we rethink doing this for you guys." Nadia deadpanned, grabbing a grape from one of the charcuterie boards displayed.

"Well. You would have to tell the world that you've been married for at least a year or two and I've already told your PR team, Lewis, to get everything ready before you announce. For now, you're only allowed to tell your closest friends and coworkers about this so that it doesn't seem suspicious that your friends didn't know of your marriage." Nicola started.

"Nadia, because you're now affiliated with Lewis, security and a team will have to assembled to be at your beck and call. Marie from Lewis' team will come over to help you choose potential candidates for your everyday team. Now the difficult part. You two have to be married legally because you know how people get, Lewis. They'll want evidence. And that's Gerald is here for." She concluded, gesturing to the guest to open his briefcase but god, did he feel awkward.

"Uh, hello. Here's the marriage certificate you two are meant to sign for the court to recognise it as an actual marriage." The poor man was red in the face as he shakily placed the certificate between Nadia and Lewis with a pen. With her freshly manicured hand, the girl picked the pen and signed underneath her name officially as a Mrs. She took a quick glance at Lewis' name and it seemed so familiar but the thing that intrigued her the most was the 'Sir' before anything.

Lewis had a good look at Nadia's side profile as he watched her sign the official papers. She didn't seem bothered with anything that was said, it was as if everything just defeated her and she just accepted it. If there's one thing he noticed was that it looked like she didn't have a clue about who he was at all and that was so fascinating to him.

She handed the pen to him, their hands touching a little with the warmest touch as they made eye contact. They both couldn't read each other's eyes, only dark brown pupils staring into each other's souls. Lewis then also signed with a bit of hesitation, the reality falling on him as he dragged the pen to the very last of his signature.

"Congratulations, Mr and Mrs Hamilton." Gerald broke the silence as he uttered his words. He quickly packed his briefcase and walked away from the table with a small wave to everyone to escape from the awkwardness of the lunch table.

"You only have to do this for a year or so then you can either divorce publicly or privately. And the living situation has to be changed. Nadia, you will have to be almost everywhere with Lewis now that you've signed that certificate so I am not sure how you will handle this at your workplace. Do you have an active passport?" Anthony ended with his question to which the quiet girl just nodded.

"Wait, where am I going to live?" Nadia asked, eventually snapping out of the quiet demeanour she had. "Well you'll have to speak to your husband about that." Linda smiled at the two, the smile slowly falling when seeing their deadpanned faces.

Sighing out for the final time, Lewis sighed and lightly tapped Nadia on the arm signaling for her attention. He held his car keys in his hand and she knew that she had to go because being there any longer would've suffocated her. The newly married couple simultaneously stood up and gathered their belongings, making everyone's faces grow into confusion.

"Where are you guys going?" Thembi asked, standing up as well with a worried expression. All Lewis did was shrug as he fixed his shirt and move out of the way so that Nadia could walk before him. "Bye everyone! Your charcuterie boards looked amazing by the way, Linda." It was as if someone completely different had greeted the group goodbye because her mood changed in a matter of seconds as if nothing happened.

"What the hell did we just do?" Nicola asked, rubbing her forehead as she watched the two walk away and out of the house.

-

"You've arrived at your destination." The automated voice rang through the large car as it approached a large black gate behind an elegant building.

The drive to the unknown destination was not as quiet as they thought it would be. When entering the car, all Nadia could do was to laugh as soon as Lewis entered the car so much so that a few tears of laughter came out. It was a sound that he appreciated to hear and he joined her in her laughter. They couldn't believe that they even went through that, mainly laughing at the fact they went into the house for lunch and left as a married couple.

It was quite the lengthy drive but it seemed much quicker as they spent the time speaking about what happened at lunch yet they never got to the topic of his job and also because they decided to play music to get rid of the negative mood they both had.

“I thought you were going to kidnap for a second. I still do.” Nadia joked as he playfully rolled his eyes at her. “Where are we even?” She looked out of the window to see the back of the large building, eventually spotting a small yet visible sign on the wall reading ‘Harrods VIP parking’.

Letting the smallest gasp escape her mouth, she gazed at Lewis once again who was typing on his phone and wondered what he did for a living for him to be able to decide to park his car here. The rumours from this department store were unbelievable so to see them bloom in real life felt surreal to Nadia.

Lewis definitely saw Nadia to be a good friend to him and could keep her around his circle and vice versa. It was a sign that a friendship was brewing between each other and they’re somewhat grateful for that although it happened so quickly.

“Seriously bruv, where are you taking me? I have to get home to watch catfish.” She asked, flicking her hair back and he laughed once more. “Bruv?” He said in between his giggles. “Okay my pookie wookie buddy bear, where are you taking me?” She said, fluttering her eyelashes at him which made him burst into so much more laughter.

“Since you want to know so badly, we’re going to Cartier to get our wedding rings.” He smiled a toothy grin, turning off the ignition of the car while looking at her stunned expression.

“…what?”

taglist: @non-stop-imagines @folkloresthings @tispys-blog @userlando @lorarri @thisismeracing @thatsdemko @myescapefromthislife @slytherinjimin3nthusiast @jamie2305 @like-fire-love-blog @sugardontbesweet @simpfortoomanymen @mauvecherie-writes @queenshikongo3 @eugene-emt-roe @deepgothfiremuffin @18754389 @cherry2stems @anubisnoir @goldsainz

dividers by: @cafekitsune

faceclaim for nadia: @/unclewaffles_ on ig!

all pictures from pinterest and ig!

[ivyyisbored22]

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭— 𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐅𝐅

Note: Check Description and other chapters first to understand the story ^^♡

Chapter 6

Bang Chan

There were days when I actually wanted to sit down and get to know Aria and days when I just wanted to shut that little mouth of hers. This whole thing was a complete bad idea and I regret it.

My hand was holding a glass of whiskey, swirling it around, the other hand rubbing off the throbbing headache forming in the front of my head. One day I'm gonna get my brain fall out of my skull at the way my head hurts because of a certain brunette.

I called the guys over to my place to watch the new game, we were all in the living room, but neither of us were focused on the match going on the TV.

"Where's your pretty wife?" Hyunjin asked as he popped an olive into his mouth from the charcuterie board Deliah prepared for us. The sound of the word "wife" sent another sharp pain to the back of my head.

"He's trying to get through the glories of marriage Hyunjin. Let him be" Bin said slapping my shoulder as he poured himself a glass of whiskey. "Although where is she? Is she okay with you having us here?"

I turned to him with a what the fuck looked spread across my face. "Why wouldn't she be? It's my house" I said, trying to keep my voice low and cool.

"Dude" Han looked at me with that same face I looked at Bin with, an eyebrow arched and shook his head pulling out his phone. "You really don't get it, do you?"

"Get what?" I asked, swirling the whiskey in my glass again, the liquid catching the light and glinting warmly. The throbbing in my head seemed to intensify with each passing second.

"That marriage isn't just about contracts and houses," Felix chimed in from across, his blue hair outshining the room and his Australian accent making the words sound almost musical. "It's about partnership. Even if this whole thing is a sham, you should at least pretend to respect her."

"Respect is a two-way street," I muttered, more to myself than to anyone else. I downed the rest of my whiskey and set the glass on the table with a heavy thud.

"You're sounding like a cliché," Seungmin said, his eyes never leaving the TV screen, but I could tell he was listening intently. "The brooding husband who doesn't know how to communicate." His comment earned laughter from almost everyone except me.

"Funny, Seungmin" I sighed, rubbing my temples. "You guys don't understand. This whole situation is fucking messed up. We were almost forced into this. It's not like I wanted any of this."

Bin leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Maybe not, but you're in it now. And if you want to make it through the next 300 whatever days without losing your fucking mind, maybe try talking to her. Really talking."

"Yeah," I.N added, looking up from the game. "Just because you didn't choose this doesn't mean you can't make the best of it. You're stuck together for a year, might as well not make it a living hell for both of you."

I frowned, swirling the whiskey glass again even though it was empty. "It's not that simple. She's... difficult."

"Sounds like she's a reflection of you," Lee Know said, a smirk playing on his lips. "Ever thought about that? Maybe you two are more alike than you care to admit."

I glared at him, but his words hit like a punch to my gut. Maybe we were more alike. Both trapped in a situation neither of us wanted, both struggling to find a way to cope. The thought made my headache worse.

"Look," Han said, putting his phone down and finally turning to face me. "We're your friends, and we're here for you. But you need to figure this out. You can't just drink and avoid it."

"I know," I admitted, feeling a weight settle in my chest. "I just... I don't know where to start."

"Start by being honest," Hyunjin suggested, popping another olive into his mouth. "With yourself and with her."

"Yeah," Felix nodded. "And maybe lay off the whiskey a bit. It won't solve anything."

"Yeah you really should cut the whiskey. You'll probably make the company a trillionare, seeing the rate you've been drinking ever since you returned from Europe" Bin added, his tone half-joking but his eyes serious.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "It's not like I have many other ways to deal with this crap."

"Dealing with it and avoiding it are two different things Chan." Han pointed out snapping his fingers, his gaze steady on me. You know he's being serious when he calls me Chan instead of Chris.

"Drinking yourself into a stupor isn't going to make any of this go away."

"Agreed," Hyunjin said. "Maybe try talking to her sober. You might be surprised."

"At this point all of you are calling me a drunkard"

"We are" all 7 of them said at sync, looking at me at the same time, my eyes widening at their unified response.

Lee Know leaned back, his expression thoughtful. "Why don't you try to find something you can both agree on. A hobby, a project or something to focus on together. It might help bridge the gap."

"Sounds like a lot of effort," I muttered, though their words were starting to sink in.

"Anything worth having usually is," I.N said simply.

"You just have to decide if it's worth it to you." Since when did the baby of our group become a love expert?

"Okay. Okay fine! I'll deal with this hell" I put my hands up in surrender, "But do not expect any miracles or whatever" I said pointing at them.

"Nobody's expecting miracles Chris" Felix said with a grin. "Just a little less whiskey and more effort."

"And when you need to get your shit together without having to drown yourself with alcohol, you've got us" Seungmin added, his eyes focused on the TV, I couldn't help but chuckle at that.

"But just so you know, I'm still not giving up whiskey completely."

"Just cut back," Bin said with a grin. "Baby steps, man. Baby steps."

As we settled in finally paying attention to the game, my attention was distracted by the sound of footsteps descending. I turned to the stairs, and there was Aria, coming down gracefully, her hair up in messy bun and wearing sweats.

Her expression a mix of curiosity and hesitation, she paused at the bottom of the stairs, clearly surprised to see the living room full of my friends. Her eyes met mine, for some reason my breathing increased, suddenly I felt something clench my chest.

Hyunjin caught my gaze and smirked knowingly. "Hello there," he got off the couch and walked towards her, realization hitting me that I never really introduced them to her properly.

Her gaze caught Hyunjin's, she smiled warmly at him, he offered his hand to her, "Hi, I'm Hyunjin" he returned her smile, shaking her hand. Somehow that small gesture of her hand touching his made a feeling I never felt before crawl over me.

"Hi, I'm Aria," she replied, her voice soft yet confident. "Guys, we have new company" Hyunjin gestured her towards us, nodding his head at her to which she replied nodding back smiling, that piercing feeling sinking again in my chest.

What is this annoying sting?!

Before I made a fool of myself infront of my friends and my wife, I got off the couch and walked to her, she paused when I got in front of her. I moved to her side, placing my hand on the small of her back. She shivered slightly, only visible to my eyes, Hyunjin smirked mischievously at me before he went and sat on the couch, I walked with Aria towards my friends.

"You guys, uh" I rubbed the back of my neck. I was behaving like a fucking high schooler introducing his new girlfriend to his friends, it was embarrassing.

"This is my wife Aria" She looked up at me as I said that, I caught her gaze on me from the corner of my eye.

"Aria," I smiled at her, trying to hide the embarrassment behind my face, feeling the teasing chuckles of the guys, "These are my friends" I introduced her to all of them one by one.

"It's nice to meet you" She smiled, genuinely pleased and enjoying the company.

"Would you like to join the madness? We really could use some luck. We're losing pretty bad" Felix said, his strong Australian accent making Aria smile wider.

"I'd love to," she replied, her voice light and friendly.

I guided her to an empty spot on the couch next to me, feeling a mix of relief and anxiety. As she settled in, I could feel the guys' eyes on us, their curiosity palpable. Han and Lee Know looked at eachother smiling to themselves, I flashed a glare at them which made them burst out laughing.

As we all settled down again to pay attention to the game, more groans and about 40 minutes later, we screamed out loud as the player kicked the ball into the goal smoothly.

"LET'S GOOOOO!!!" The living room erupted into a chorus of cheers and high-fives. The energy was infectious, and for a moment, all my anxieties melted away in the shared excitement. Even Aria was caught up in the moment, her eyes shining with delight as she joined in the celebration, clapping her hands and covering her mouth as she laughed.

Han and Lee Know, still chuckling from my earlier glare, were the loudest among us, their voices carrying over the rest. They exchanged a quick fist bump, their camaraderie evident. I couldn't help but smile at the scene unfolding around me.

"That was insane!" Felix said, smiling infectiously. "Aria, you really did bring us the luck" He said to her, her cheeks flushed pink so easily at the simplest compliment.

"I really didn't," she chuckled, "It was definitely a coincidence" She covered her mouth again as she laughed, that gesture pulled an unusal curiosity from me.

As the game continued, the tension ebbed and flowed, punctuated by moments of collective joy or frustration. We leaned forward in unison, held our breath together, and let out synchronized sighs of relief. During a particularly intense moment, I felt her hand brush against mine.

It was a small, fleeting touch, but it sent a jolt of electricity through me. I glanced over at her, and she met my eyes with a shy smile before quickly looking back at the screen.

"Focus on the game hubby" Bin teased from across the room, having noticed the exchange. I rolled my eyes, I tried my hardest to surpress the smile that tugged at my lips.

"Shut up Bin," I shot back, earning another round of laughter from the group, including a soft smile from her.

After the game ended, the guys engaged in conversations with Aria, especially Felix and Hyunjin. I watched her, leaning back on the couch on the other side, with a new glass of whiskey.

The way her hands come up to her mouth when she laughd, how her lips move with every word and how her eyes sparkle when she is talking about something that has her full interest, somehow, all of that fascinated me.

Felix, ever the charmer, had her laughing in no time. His quick wit and easygoing nature made him an instant favorite. Hyunjin, on the other hand, was more intense, asking her thoughtful questions and listening intently to her responses. She seemed to thrive in their company, her confidence growing with every passing minute.

I took a sip of my drink, savoring the warmth that spread through me. It wasn't just the whiskey; it was the sight of her fitting in so seamlessly with my friends. A part of me had worried that she might feel out of place, but those fears were quickly dispelled. But another part of me hated how easily my friends could speak to her than I could.

I felt that same pang of stinging pain I felt before, the feeling I never felt before mixed with admiration. They made it look so easy. I watched as she engaged with them, her eyes lighting up with every new story or joke. She seemed genuinely happy, and I shook my head turning away, trying to hide the small smile forming in the corner of my lips.

But as the evening wore on, I couldn't shake the frustration. I wanted to be the one making her laugh, to see her smile, watch her eyes trap an entire galaxy, drawing out those little gestures and expressions that had become so familiar yet so elusive to me in this setting.

"Bro?" Seungmin's voice broke through my thoughts. He sat down beside me, a knowing smile on his face, "You good?"

"Yeah," I replied, though the uncertainty in my voice betrayed me. "Just... watching."

"She fits in well," he observed, following my gaze. "Hmm" I hummed as I continued to watch her.

And for a brief moment her eyes caught mine, in that instant, everything around me faded, the only person remaining was her. She played a soft smile before breaking the contact and turning to Han. She spoke to everyone equally, everyone except me, that god damn sting just kept rising and falling in my chest.

I took another sip from my glass, trying to focus on the warmth it provided, but it was a poor distraction. The more I watched her, the more the sting of being left out by my own friends and wife gnawed at me. The guys could draw her into conversation so effortlessly, while I was left on the sidelines, battling my own hesitation.

"You'll feel easier to talk to her once we leave" Seungmin said as he tapped my shoulder and grabbed his keys from the coffee table.

"Well Aria, it was amazing meeting you but I have work to catch up with, so I'll see you soon" He said, looking at her and also giving a sign to the guys that it was time for me to be alone with her.

I swear to God I feel set up in my own marriage by own friends.

One by one, the guys started making their excuses, gathering their things, and heading out. Felix gave me a thumbs-up, and Hyunjin offered a supportive smile. Han and Lee Know were the last to leave, each patting me on the back.

I made plans to catch up with Bin and I.N at the gym during the weekend and soon, it was just me and Aria alone in my living room.

Sooner or later we have to have a proper conversation and it seemed like it's happening sooner than I wanted.

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

Thank you for reading!

xx,Ivyy

Next Chapter

[misty-groves]

Rewind (here we go again) Chapter one

Rating: M

Pairing: Ivy & Batfam, everyone &everyone

Summary: Ivy takes a day to settle in. Complete bedtime stories, meetings, plans, crime confessions, and hugs.

Warnings: Talk of (past) murder, leauge of Assassins

Other: If I missed anything, please let me know

Series masterpost .... Previous

Ivy is dropped off with her two baby brothers at two in the morning.

They land on the porch of Wayne manor and watch their mother leave after her parting affections.

She knocks on the door and waits. She has no doubt that they know someone is here. She is just hopeful no one crowds her brothers.

She's nervous. Last time around, she didn't meet back up with her family until seventeen. Now she's fourteen, and in the past, from reasons she dosen’t know.

"Ivy." Damian frowns, "Why is it taking so long?"

"It's a big home, Alfred should be here soon."

"Is he good?" Danyal asks softly.

"Alfred is very good. He's the best man I've known." Ivy smiles softly, fonder than she could ever put into words.

"Okay." Danyal says.

The front door opens to Alfred, who looks fairly unaffected - except his eyes. His eyes look warmer than usual.

His suit is crisp and his arms as behind his back.

"Miss Ivy." The man says, a soft smile on his lips, "These must be your brothers."

"Alfie!" Ivy drops the bag on her shoulder and rushes forwards to hug the older man. She has known him so long- she's missed him so much.

Alfred grunts but hugs her back.

After a moment, he lets go against his better judgement. It's late, and the children need sleep after all.

"Come inside, my dear. You all could probably use some rest." Alfred says as he steps aside.

Ivy picks up the bag and follows the boys inside. She closes the door behind her.

Danyal and Damian stand on either side of their sister. Silent and still as they examine the large entry way of the manor.

There's two grand stair cases, a large family portrait, and marble floors. There's a suit of armor by each staircase.

"I am Alfred Pennyworth, the butler of the manor. Who might you two be?" Alfred asks.

"I am Damian Al Ghul." Damin announces with crossed arms and a haughty air.

"I'm Danyal Al Ghul." Danyal informs quieter, stepping closer to his sister.

Ivy sets a hand on Danyal's head and ruffles his hair. She smiles at him softly. Comfort almost rolls off of her in visible waves.

"Do you need to eat before we send you a lot off to bed?" Alfred asks.

Ivy just hums, "If you don't mind, we could probably eat."

"Of course, what kind of food would you like?"

"Can we have crackers and cheese?" Ivy requests easily.

"Of course, miss Ivy. Do you want to come with me?"

"Please."

Alfred leads the children to the kitchen and has them sit at the bar.

The old man prepares a quick charcuterie board for them.

The children eat quickly, the two boys much messier than their sister, but that's what nine and a half years age difference is.

Ivy has been quiet. But she thanks Alfred and hugs him once they're done.

The children are led to their rooms, but as soon as Alfred leaves, the boys are breaking into Ivy's room.

It's instinct really to seek out the safest person in an unknown place.

She catches them as they launch at her form. A laugh falls from her mouth.

"Boys."

"Damian said we could have stories." Danyal says evenly.

"Did he?" She asks.

"Yes. I de-mad stories." Damian declares confidently regardless of his mispronounced word.

Ivy dosen’t day anything, he's so advanced in language that a mispronounced word in a second language here and there is nothing.

"Tell us about the twins!"

"Once, many years ago, there was a set of twins named Danny and Dami. The two boys were princes of a very powerful kingdom called Bat-Landia."

"And they had pets made of space!" Danyal chimes in.

Ivy smiles softly, "And they had pets made of the stars themselves. The boys were strong, smart, and capable. One day, their friend, Jon, went missing!"

"No!" Danyal gasps.

"Yes. The boys were very upset, their best friend was missing..."

She continues the story, talking about the daring quest, a troll under the bridge, and the twist where the allies they found were spies. The boys in the story save their friend and ride off into the sunset.

Damian is snoring before the twist and Danyal follows after. They sleep hard.

Ivy covers them all up, before settling down for the night. It's nearly morning, but that's okay.

She falls asleep knowing she's on track with her plan to give the family a better life this time around.

-------

Bruce goes to check on the children after a long night of crime fighting. He cracks the door to Damian's room and finds no one.

He frowns but checks Danyal's room. Maybe the boys are together?

There's no one in Danyal's room either.

He groans.

Bruce dosen’t want to have to tell his daughter the boys have escaped. And he dosen’t know where to start looking on his own just yet. He hasn't even met them yet.

Wait- maybe the boys went to see their sister. She would be the oldest person they know.

Bruce cracks the door to Ivy's room, moonlight spills through it, and runs three lumps in a bed.

He sighs.

The children are all safe.

Bruce steps inside, closing the door as he gazes at the children.

His daughter is in the middle, her arms out to either side. Her dark curls are a messy halo around her. She's got more defined muscles.

But she's whole again, breathing and all.

He never thought he'd see Ivy again. But he gets too.

He draws attention away from his beautiful, strong, and alive (!) Daughter and looks to the boys.

The boy that has a hooked nose - Damian, if he remembers right from the pictures - is closest to the door. He rests his head on Ivy's bicep, arm thrown over her neck.

He's small, and he looks so peaceful.

Danyal is on the left, the side closest to the wall. He has a sharper nose, his mother's nose. He has his head on his sister's chest as if listening to her heartbeat.

Bruce swallows something thick in his throat.

All of his living children are under one roof tonight.

Dick came back to see Ivy. The young man may not be on great terms with Bruce, but when he heard his sister was back, he came home anyway.

Barbra is here too, not Bruce's official daughter but someone who is family nonetheless.

Things are truly looking up.

After losing Jason- everything fell apart.

Actually- they lost Ivy first, and that messed them all up. The girl had died from a car crash in Dick's arms. And had her mother not been Talia, she would have never been brought back.

Then Jason - who Bruce failed thoroughly - was lost to the Joker and the man's obsession with Batman. The loss broke them further, Dick blaming himself and Bruce, having lost two children in six months far too lost to think clearly, wasn't there for his eldest.

Barbra was paralyzed by the Joker. She is alive, but she still grieved her loss. Still felt like part of her died. Though she has found a new way to help.

"Stop thinking so loud, dad." Ivy calls as she opens one eye.

"You're awake?"

"Have been for a while. I wasn't sure if you wanted to talk or stare."

Bruce chokes a little bit. "I didn't mean to -"

"It's okay, dad. I know you aren't going to hurt us." She opens both eyes and gives someone a soft smile.

"Oh." Bruce manages.

Ivy just hums, "You know, I missed you."

"I missed you too, birdie." Bruce says as he steps closer. "Your brothers looks at peace."

"They are, poor things have been pretty upset." Ivy sighs, "They're not like other kids, dad... They aren't going to be like other kids. There have been assassination attempts on them."

"They're four."

"Four and a half." Ivy corrects. "And they're the heir to Ra's."

Bruce grunts at that, looking upset. Which... is probably good. She's not sure, really.

Ivy just sighs slowly. "You look like you need some sleep."

"I do."

"Go sleep, dad. We're safe here. I'll make sure of it."

Bruce frowns as his heart clenches. "Are you sure?"

"You have great security, and I'm plenty dangerous. We'll be okay. I'll see you in the morning, dad." Ivy smiles at him with an assurance he dosen’t recognize.

"Okay." Bruce breathes softly.

He leaves the room quietly, feeling both worse and better.

He's seen the children, at least. They are safe.

-------

Alfred comes to wake the children around ten in the morning, later than usual but letting them sleep in. They arrived late and are used to a different time zone after all.

He wakes them with a knock and a call of their names.

Ivy sends the boys to get dressed easily before she takes a quick shower.

The twins meet Ivy in the hallway.

The three of them go downstairs and find quite the scene.

The living room is full of tension.

Dick is sitting in the arm of the couch, looking like he'd like to set the wall on fire with his glare.

Barbra has her wheelchair parked between the other end of the couch and the chair Bruce is in. She's got her eyes closed.

Bruce is settled in a leather recliner, arms crossed as he growers at the ceiling.

Alfred is nowhere to be seen.

"Uh- morning?" Ivy tries.

All three heads whip around to look at her and the boys.

"Ivy." Dick breathes out softly.

"Dick." She smiles warmly.

"Dragă," Dick stands, shaking.

"You're really here." Barbara manages.

Ivy just nods, "I am. Would you like to meet my brothers?"

"Yes." Bruce says.

"I am Damian Al Ghul." The green eyed boy says proudly.

"I'm Danyal Al." The blue eyes boy says, just a little less sure but far more confident than many adults.

"It's nice to finally meet you," Bruce says as he stands and walks over. "I'm your father, Bruce Wayne."

"Mother speaks of you." Damian says while his twin nods.

"Talia told you about me?" Bruce manages.

"Talia had kids?" Dick asks.

"Three." Ivy smiles sweetly, "I'm her oldest as far as I know."

Dick blinks, looking confused. Then upset. Although he has never much cared for Talia.

Barbra rolls over and smiles, "It's nice to meet you boys, I'm Barbra, but you can call me Babs."

"Ivy likes you." Danyal hums.

"I hope so," Barbra says with a soft smile.

Dick comes over and focuses on the boys. He can't bring himself to look at his sister again right now. She hurts to look at, she's older now.

And he kind of wants to bundle her up in a tower to keep her safe, but he won't do that. That's weird and probably cruel.

"I'm Dick Grayson." The acrobat says with a bright smile.

Damian looks at him doubtfully, as if offended by the very notion. "You do not look like him."

"What?" Dick manages.

"Ivy told us about him." Danyal explains, "She says he's the best big brother, and he has eyes like the sky. You look boring."

"Oh my god." Ivy wheezes, "Oh fu- fiddlesticks. Boys, no, that is absolutely Dick."

"You said he was the best acrobat. This one looks broken." Damian frowns.

"No. Oh my god." Ivy groans as she sets her face in her hands.

"You said I was the best acrobat?" Dick asks with wide eyes.

"Of course I did, cause you are." She says.

Dick looks at her, and he tears up.

She's perfect.

Dark curls damp as they fall down her back. A black tank top over jeans just shows off how she's grown. ( She's breathing! )

He moves then, hugging her tightly to his chest.

She hugs right back, though. Holding onto him as she takes slow breaths. She has missed him, she hasn't seen him look so young in a while.

"We're glad you're back." Barbra says.

Ivy laughs softly and turns her head to look at Barbra, "You couldn't keep me away."

Barbara sets a hand on her arm where the younger girl is still hugging Dick. "If you ever need me, I'll always be here."

"Thank you, Babs."

Dick steps back finally. Hands resting on his sister's shoulder. "Don't you ever die on me again."

"I don't plan to." Ivy smiles.

"She is not allowed to die." Danyal says sharply.

"You're right about that." Barbra laughs softly.

"Alright, alright, I think it's time you three get to know Damian and Danyal." Ivy says as she steps back.

Damian looks his father up and down before looking to his sister. He seems to be saying,'What now?'

Ivy squats down between her youngest brothers and tilts her head.

"Are these the people you talk about?" Damian asks.

"Absolutely." Ivy smiles, "These are my family."

"We are your family." Danyal says with a frown.

She softens, "Of course you are, habibi. You are my family, but so are they."

-------

Ivy frowns softly now that she's finally alone. She's put the boys to bed in their own rooms and escaped to the library.

As far as she can tell, she's going to be here for a while. She's changed things- but nothing bad has happened yet.

What if she changed more things?

She is going to have to try to track down Jason. Getting him on her side after her last spree of assassination targets shouldn't be hard. The awful clown is dead.

She can try to befriend Tim at school when she goes back next week. Steph, too, maybe?

Then, she has to find Cass, which will be a challenge.

Oh, and she should look for Duke if he can keep his family, that's for the better. But he deserves to have even more family too.

She looks through the books and smiles sadly when she sees a well loved copy of Stephen King's 'The Eyes of the Dragon'. Her favorite book is one she's been read and read herself so many times.

It's one of the first books she got Jason to read and discuss with her.

She misses him so much.

He has always been the one who was there for everything. Her best friend.

"Calm down, Ivy. You can do this." Ivy says to herself as she grabs the book she'd just looked at, the Stephen King fairytale a safety she longs to read again.

She settles on a couch by the fireplace and starts reading. The words wash over her gently as she relaxed into it.

She has time.

The door opens to Alfred, who just clears his throat.

She looks up, "Alfred?"

"Miss Ivy, my dear, it's late. Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"I just can't sleep. There's so much in my head."

Alfred sighs,"I can understand that. The twins seem very attached to you."

She just laughs softly. Her boys are attached to her. In her time, Damian has done all sorts of things just for her happiness and safety. Before she got Danyal out, he would have done anything for her.

"I'm really lucky that way." She says with a soft smile.

"I'm glad you were not alone there. I've watched the league break many." Alfred frowns as he walks closer.

She sighs slowly. "Alfie..."

"Miss Ivy, I just want you to know you can talk to me about anything."

"I know, Alfred. I appreciate that. I just - I don't know how. I did a lot of things there." Ivy admits softly.

She dosen’t know how to talk about it either. Before she went back in time, her family already knew because she had a breakdown and Damian shared her history.

She's never actually told anyone, but Jason outright what she's done. And she had thought he was a criminal she didn't know during that outburst.

"I understand that. Just know that if you ever do tell me, I will not judge you."

"I know. Thank you, Alfie."

"Of course."

Ivy dosen’t know what it is, but she wants someone to know because she chooses it. She wants to knowingly and meaningfully open up.

So she goes on a whim. "Hey, Alfred?"

"Yes?"

"Can we talk about it?" She asks as she puts a bookmark in the book.

Alfred nods as he crosses the space and sister on the other end of the couch. "When ever you're ready."

"I'm a killer, Alfred. I've taken lives."

"I'm sorry, I know you didn’t want to."

"No. I didn't. Then I got numb. It stopped hurting." She sighs, "I've made my peace, I don’t plan to do it again... I made sure to make it fast. But I'm not who I was before."

"No one is ever the same," Alfred soothes, "But you can choose to be someone you want to be."

"I am. I don't want to kill again, Alfred. I just... I know I can now."

Alfred just hum, setting a hand on her shoulder. "My dear girl, everyone has the ability in them. Very few have the ability to choose kindness after they unlock it."

"Alfred." She manages, "I- you sound like you don't think I'm a monster."

"No more than I am, my dear."

She hugs him then, tight as she shakes and holds back tears. "You always know how to help."

Alfred hugs her back firmly. His arms are solid and safe, and a haven she's missed.

"I am always here for you, Ivy. You are not a monster for doing things to survive or to help others survive."

Ivy feels better. For the first time, she told someone her history on her own without missing some information.

And she's accepted.

There was no pity or judgment. Just acceptance and commraderie.

Alfred truly is the best of them.

-------

Next (wip)

[gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot]

Paulatim sed Firmiter (Slowly but Surely) - Sunday evening

Only one scene to go and (multi) chapter 11 is wrapped

Unless I get murdered for this one lol

Warnings: None, just domestic fluff

Taglist: @glitterypirateduck @letsreadallday @jamesrifftapes @rileyslibrarian

Previous / Masterlist / Next

Sunday evening

Captain Price and Dr. Green’s house

John’s proud beaming face was proof enough to his wife that she had been right about persuading him to invite the ‘kids’ to dinner. Also, the bigger dinner table had been a success, allowing them all to be comfortably seated, and the numerous dishes to be displayed on it.

Heather had roasted a couple of big chickens, made vegetable sides, mashed potatoes, gravy, Yorkshire puddings… and had thought it wouldn’t be enough, given the unholy appetite of the four men present. Johnny had an endless pit in the place where his stomach should be, Kyle was no better, her husband was another bottomless hole when it came to food, and even Simon, given the opportunity, ate like there was no tomorrow.

Thankfully, Kyle brought apple crumble and ice-cream for the dessert, Gabi brought tasty, delicious rice with beans as per her home country recipe, and Christine not only brought a Spanish charcuterie board, but also made a lasagna. Johnny and Simon appeared with several wine bottles, which were as welcomed as the food brought by the others.

And given the rate at which they were eating, there would be no leftovers.

‘‘I can’t believe you’d date a helicopter pilot after almost falling out of one’’ Johnny laughed at Kyle, who didn’t look offended in the slightest as he kept stuffing his mouth full of food with a wide smile.

‘‘Diego is not Nikolai. He doesn’t fly like a madman at least’’

‘‘Who’s Nikolai?’’ Christine and Gabi asked almost at the same time, with genuine curiosity, and John started an intrincate explanation about who the Russian fixer was, that they went way back and even Heather knew him, and told a flowery tale about the time when Gaz almost fell off the helicopter during Kate Laswell’s rescue…

‘‘Wait, wait, wait’’ Christine interrupted, her blue eyes wide and a surprised look on her face. ‘‘What do you mean, ‘rescue’? When did that happen?’’

‘‘November last year’’ Kyle clarified, stealing the last Yorkshire pudding from Johnny’s plate before he noticed.

‘‘Ye bloody asshole…!’’ Johnny complained, trying to steal it back, but Kyle had already taken a bit out of it. ‘‘Ah’ll get back at ye for that!’’

‘‘Johnny, language!’’ Gabi laughed, slapping lightly his arm.

The food by then was mostly gone. After hosting the boys several times, Heather had learned soon that instead of  serving entrées, mains and dessert, it was better to just place everything on the table and sit back to enjoy the spectacle. Some were still stuffing themselves with the remains of the chickens, while others were already enjoying the dessert.

Everyone looked full and content, which made her heart happy, and she smiled at her husband. John smiled back at her, and his hand found hers under the table, brushing his calloused thumb on her palm.

‘‘You look happy, sweetheart’’

‘‘I am’’ Heather whispered back, still smiling. ‘‘I like having them here. Can we do this more often?’’

‘‘Not weekly’’ John rushed to say, and she laughed.

‘‘No, no… but a couple times a month at least’’

John grunted non-committally, squeezing her hand before releasing it when he saw Christine standing up.

‘‘If you excuse me just for a minute, I have to make a call’’

‘‘But what about the rest of your ice-cream!’’ Johnny followed her with his eyes, but she ignored him, already scrolling in her mobile phone while she stepped outside, followed by Simon’s gaze.

‘‘Well, thank God’’ John sighed, side-eyeing Kyle and Johnny when they stole Christine’s remaining ice-cream. ‘‘I hope that means Kate will stop asking me to make her take her calls’’

‘‘She’s stubborn’’ Heather smiled, patting her husband’s knee, and he looked at her, amused.

‘‘Which one of them?’’

Heather laughed, and turned her head to look at Simon, who was just listening to the banter around him, as always. He had finished eating a while ago, but had not pulled down his balaclava yet. Wether that was because he forgot, or because he was comfortable in the current company, Heather didn’t know, but she relished in the opportunity to see as little as she could of her friend, scars that made her heart ache and all.

He noticed she was looking at him and his eyes turned to her, in a silent question, and Heather just shrugged and smiled.

‘‘I’m happy to have all of you here’’

Simon simply nodded, his arms crossed over the table and his eyes returned to the arch that led to the hallway, where Christine had disappeared. Heather smiled again and tried to exchange a knowing look with her husband, but John was emptying his glass of red wine.

Christine stopped in the hall, still able to listen to the sounds coming from the dining room next to the kitchen, but far enough to not disturb them with her conversation, already dialing the number.

‘‘Took you long enough’’ Kate Laswell’s voice was a bit dry when she answered after making her wait for almost twenty seconds, but Christine went for the throat.

‘‘What the fuck is this shit about you needing rescue back in November?’’

‘‘Oh’’

‘‘Oh? What the fuck, ‘oh’? Start explaining why and how you were kidnapped and I didn’t know a thing about it’’

‘‘You were… unwell back in November, honey’’ Kate’s voice was gentler now, and Christine gritted her teeth.

‘‘I could walk’’

‘‘Barely’’

‘‘That’s low’’ Christine snarled, looking in the direction of the dining room when she could hear louder laughter, from Kyle, Johnny and Gabi. ‘‘You can’t expect me to…’’

‘‘I can. You were hanging on to your sanity by a thread back then’’ Kate sighed lightly before continuing, soothingly. ‘‘I didn’t have time for anything, Christine, much less for calling for help. I barely had time to radio John and Gaz.’’

‘‘You’re fucking lucky’’

‘‘I know’’

‘‘I would have gone’’

‘‘I know… My wife says thanks for the almond cake recipe, by the way’’

Christine grunted something under her breath, relieved to hear Kate’s low laugh and deciding to ignore her obvious attempt at changing the subject.

‘‘It was nothing’’

‘‘Can we talk when I’m back? I prefer talking to you face to face’’

‘‘… sure. When are you coming back?’’

‘‘Soon. Gotta go, my wife is threatening me with a wooden spoon through the window, I’m not supposed to answer calls on my work phone when I’m off’’

‘‘Serves you right’’ Christine mumbled again, and Kate laughed. ‘‘See you soon’’

‘‘See you soon’’

She sighed and returned her phone to her pocket, and turned around to go back to the dining room. But she found herself face to chest with Simon, who was standing a couple of steps away from her, in silence.

‘‘Joder! (Fuck!)’’ Christine gasped, but then she smiled and laughed, visibly relieved. ‘‘Sorry, did I take too long?’’

‘‘No’’ Simon shook his head, hands inside the pockets of his hoodie as usual, but his balaclava was still hooked over his nose. ‘‘Gabi is recruiting Johnny and Kyle into helping do the dishes’’

‘‘Oh yeah, her and I talked about it before coming’’ She nodded, taking a peek at the dining room arch door, and then at him again when he didn’t move an inch. His eyes were focused on her hair. ‘‘What?’’

‘‘I’ve never seen you with your hair down’’ He murmured, and she couldn’t help but blush, thankful for the dimness of the hallway. It was true that she had decided to wear her hair down for once, instead of in her usual ponytail, braid or bun. And sitting next to him at the dining table, she had noticed him looking at her quite often during dinner.

‘‘Oh, and what’s the veredict?’’ Christine giggled softly, trying to make a joke, but her smile faltered when he leaned in slightly, bringing his face closer to her hair. She even stood on her tiptoes discreetely, feeling stupid, but strangely excited.

Simon was feeling conflicted, once that he initiated the movement before he was even aware of what he was doing. Now, with his nose mere inches away from the crown of her head, so close that he could smell her shampoo – something with flowers, he guessed – he fought himself to keep his hands inside his pockets. They were in Price’s hallway after all.

Being away for almost a week had been torture, and now, having her this close…

‘‘I like it’’ He rumbled, his subconscious feeling her shudder with the sound of his voice. ‘‘I like your hair’’

‘‘Now you’ll say it makes me beautiful to wear it down…’’ Christine teased, trying desperately to hide the way her body was trembling, specially when he finally buried his nose in her hair.

‘‘You’re always beautiful’’

A loud crash sounded in the kitchen, and then a chorus of laughter. They stayed like that for a couple of seconds more, without moving, and finally, she stepped back, he pulled down his balaclava, and side by side went to the kitchen to see what the other three were doing with the dishes instead of washing them.

Half hidden by the dinning room hallway, Heather and John kept their silence until the kitchen’s door closed, and then she smiled sweetly at her husband.

‘‘Oh, honey’’

‘‘That wasn’t Ghost over there’’ John looked half glad and half concerned, with one arm wrapped around his wife’s waist, feeling her excitement. ‘‘That was Simon’’

‘‘I know’’ Heather could barely contain her happiness. ‘‘Oh, honey, I’m so glad’’

‘‘So am I, sweetheart, but…’’ John hesitated before asking, knowing the answer beforehand. ‘‘Don’t think about it as their friend. What’s your professional opinion?’’

‘‘I can’t speak about my patients, darling’’ Heather teased, jabbing a finger into her husband’s full stomach and giggling when he growled and grabbed her hand.

‘‘Then don’t speak about your patients, speak about our kids’’

She giggled again, and then tangled her fingers in his muttonchops lovingly.

‘‘I remember Simon back when I met him in that London café, with you. All smiles and cocky attitude, and so happy with that little toy plane that he had bought for his nephew’’

John nodded, his blue eyes a bit glossy now thinking about back then. He missed that Simon. He was glad that Simon was still there, inside of Ghost, somewhere, and that little by little, the shell was breaking.

‘‘If you’re asking if I think what it’s growing between him and Christine is good… yeah, I think it is’’ Heather continued, tugging lightly at his facial hair and giggling when he grumbled. ‘‘It’s a curious thing. What she needs most is to take care of others, to feel useful. And to be taken care of, to feel loved, needed. And the same goes for him’’

‘‘Well… we’ll see how it goes’’ John sighed, listening to the laughter and the clattering of dishes coming from the kitchen.

[neonponders]

Part 33 for @wrecked-fuse ‘s pocketverse 🥬

Part 30 (main plot)

Part 32 (werewolf!Billy chapter haha)

( pt. 7′s art 🎩 ) ( pt. 9′s art 👀 ) ( pt. 14′s art 💨 ) ( pt. 19′s art 🦇 ) ( pt. 20′s art 🍳) ( pt. 27’s art 🦦 )

~ on ao3 ~

• • •

Billy parked in front of the Harrington house and tested the door. It opened for him and, given the noise of music and water drifting around the house, he knew where everyone would be.

He didn’t expect Chrissy to be here, but she smiled at him as she poured herself a lemonade. “Hey, Billy. Do you want a glass?”

“I’d love a glass,” he crooned, taking a seat at the breakfast bar and peeking outside. He could see Steve popping his head out of the pool, whipping hair and water off his face. Robin and Max sat at the table eating, the centerpiece being the littles’ pool.

Chrissy handed him the lemonade and said, “Mine and Eddie’s are here too.”

“I don’t see the big guy.”

“He’s got a D&D campaign.”

Billy hummed a disinterested sound as he sipped. “Right. I’m surprised his miniature let him go. Mine and Steve’s love board games.”

Chrissy smiled on her way outside. “I’ve got an edge to making the little bat behave.”

Billy slide off his stool to follow her outside. “I’m sure you do.”

The music wasn’t loud enough to cover the littles’ voices, allowing him to smile at little Steve and Chrissy waving up at him from where they stood next to the deli meats and cheeses. The former heralded, “Biwwy! Yourw home! No morwe work?”

“I’m done for the day,” he confirmed, taking a seat and feeling the warmth of little Steve’s hands on his fingers.

“Good, I’m gwad.”

“You know what? Me too, chipmunk. Hey, little Chris.”

Small Chrissy patted his knuckles. “Hi, Biwwy. We have a sharcoochie board, if you want some.”

That pinged off his brain like a pebble on a bell. “A what?”

Robin chuckled. “A charcuterie board. It’s like a disassembled sandwich.”

Billy absorbed that and obliged, “Don’t mind if I do. Thanks, Chris.”

She smiled and went to climb the ladder and join small Eddie at the top of the slide. Meanwhile, little Steve ran over the towel acting as a non-slip surface around the pool and called, “Biwwy? Gwapes?”

Small Billy sat in his donut float, relaxing over the water with sunglasses and not a care in the world. His head sagged to one side as if he just now noticed big Billy’s arrival. “Hey, Biwwy.”

“Share a grape with Steve. Lifeguard’s orders.”

“Why?” he groaned.

“Because you’re sluggish. You need the water and sugar boost.”

“I’m welaxing - ugh! ”

“CANON BAWLL!” Eddie cried as he held onto Chrissy down the slide. They made water splash out of the pool. Max’s chewing paused, annoyance fuming out of her nostrils at the now soggy bread of her sandwich. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world, since the littles swam in tap water, but it wasn’t great.

Big Steve emerged from the pool and cupped his hand underneath Billy’s innertube to lift him out of the water. “Lifeguard’s orders, little man. The temperature’s dropping soon anyways.”

Steve set him down, still lounging in his float, on the towel. Little Steve sat on the donut like a cushion with a half of a grape between them. Little Billy couldn’t complain as the grape did its job in rejuvenating him.

Steve toweled off his hair, raked it back off his face, and sat at the table while Max worked on rebuilding her sandwich. Around a mouthful of salami, Steve asked, “Anyone wanna play a game?”

Chrissy perked up. “I have cards in my bag.”

Little Chrissy seconded, “Poker?”

Billy’s eyebrows flew up. “You know poker?”

Her tiny shoulders shrugged. “It’s what they pway in the movies.”

But Steve offered a finger to help her out of the pool as he said, “Don’t worry. Your other Chris knows how to hustle in poker.”

Eddie lit up, flapping water off his wings as he jogged over the table to her. “Weally? Are you wich from winning?”

Chrissy laughed and shook her head. “No, but the basketball team lost to the cheerleaders in strip poker during an away-tournament.”

The littles didn’t really know what that meant, but Billy, Robin, and even Max guffawed at the news. Then Robin added, “I can’t believe I forgot about that. That poker tournament was better than the games.”

Steve coughed, “Uh, excuse you. It’s not our fault our games lined up with that one rival senior who’s contracted professionally now. We didn’t stand a chance.”

Billy smirked at him. “You might’ve if I’d gotten here sooner. Hell, you almost make me wish I had.”

Max posed a slack-jawed glare at him like she couldn’t believe a word of it, but had the sense not to say anything. Instead she finished eating, and instead of being dealt into the game, asked, “Can I use your shower?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Steve disregarded, more so focused on little Billy walking over to him. Steve lowered his cards for him to see, and big Billy found small Steve with his eyes. Like he knew, the little guy looked up at him and smiled. Billy crooked a finger at him and fenced him behind his own cards.

Steve sat close enough to have his knee leaning against Billy’s, so the latter heard him ask his smaller self, “Wha’cha thinkin?”

Little Billy held his chin as he thought about it, and then silently tapped a queen of diamonds.

Steve nodded, “Good thinkin’.”

“Biwwy?”

He looked down to little Steve, eyes huge with telltale worry. “What’s up?”

“I don’t know pokerw much, but this hand kinda sucks.”

Big Steve kept his laughter in check, as did Billy while he leaned down to explain his strategy. He couldn’t be sure how much of it sank in, but small Steve could feel his confidence in his voice and his proximity. It made him feel safe and interested, so he hugged Billy’s cheek, “You’wre so smawrt, Biwwy,” and kissed him.

Then he gasped, “It’s not sweepy time!”

Billy chuckled and began to sit up. “You can kiss me anytime, sugar,” and pecked a smooch on top of his head.

He took a hand off his cards so Steve could wander freely, but he gazed up at Billy, galazy-eyed and rosy-cheeked as he waddled -

“Ooph! Sowwy, Chwissy,” he gushed after bumping into her.

“It’s okay, Stevie. Sit with me and Eddie?”

“Sure!”

Billy’s eyes lingered on them for a moment longer, until his littler self shouted, “We’wre gonna kick your ass!”

Billy sputtered but recoverd, “Oh, you think so?”

Steve intervened, “Poker face, honey bee. Poker face.”

“Oh. Right. We’wre totawwy kicking yourw ass but whateverw about it!”

Chrissy started laughing hard enough that she had to look at the sky to dry her mirthful tears. Eddie flew up to her face, doing his best to fan her with a piece of lettuce.

[imreallyloveleee]

ooooo is your last post about “i feel like i win when i lose”???

sorry anon, it's not - it's about a better call saul fic.

however, this reminded me that I got another ask about that story which I forgot to answer a few weeks ago. it has been quite a while since i've worked on it. I have no idea when/if there will be an update, if I'm being completely honest with you. I feel bad about it! but under the cut are some sections from what I do have written of the last chapter. hope you enjoy em <3

Jughead accepts a cold beer from Munroe, settles back onto one of the open loungers, and actually has a pretty good time chilling with the bros until – inevitably – someone suggests they see what the bridesmaids are up to.  

“I dunno.” Archie pauses in the midst of slathering more sunscreen across his chest, something he’s been doing every fifteen minutes or so, likely at Veronica’s behest. “I think Ronnie wanted them to have a girls’ day.” 

Eric opens his mouth to protest, but Reggie jumps in. “I know what you’re thinking, bro, but none of them are single. Well, except for Betty.”

Jughead focuses with deliberate intensity on the label of his beer bottle as the others weigh the pros and cons of crossing the bride’s boundary line for the sake of flirting with her hot maid of honor. He hasn’t spoken with Betty since a week before her move to Michigan for the journalism fellowship, and even that was just a couple of stilted text exchanges – congrats, be sure to buy some good snow boots, ha ha. In the meantime, nearly eight months have passed.

And Jughead’s regretted every minute. 

“Hey.” Archie nudges Jughead’s leg with his foot, jerking his chin towards the house. “Wanna help me with some snacks?”

They both know what he’s actually doing, and Jughead feels a rush of warmth for his friend – his best friend, who’s getting married to the love of his life tomorrow, and deserves better than a sadsack excuse for a best man who wastes a free trip to the Caribbean so he can mope over a non-relationship that ended before it even began.

“Do you even have to ask?”

In the kitchen, Jughead sits on one of the swiveling counter stools and watches as Archie attempts to curate a charcuterie plate. 

“So, Betty asked how you were doing.” Archie tilts his head slightly as he flops a slice of prosciutto to one side, then the other. 

Jughead ignores the faint flutter of hope in his chest. Most likely she was just wondering if she’d have to walk down the aisle with a brooding basket case at her best friends’ wedding. “What’d you tell her?”

Archie shrugs. “Not much. I figured you can tell her yourself at the rehearsal dinner tonight.” 

“Oh. Yeah.” Leaning across the counter, Jughead snags a green olive and pops it into his mouth. “I guess I can.” 

“What happened with you two, anyway? Ron was freaking out for weeks that you were gonna, like, propose, and then nothing.” 

“Nothing happened, we just…didn’t happen.” Jughead reaches forward again, this time retrieving a block of cheese and an entire sleeve of organic rosemary-sea salt crackers. “Shit happens. Or doesn’t. Whatever.”

If Archie’s skeptical, he’s too preoccupied arranging slices of salami to dig further. “Whatever you say, man.” 

“Not everyone gets the picture perfect happily-ever-after, Archibald.” Jughead sandwiches a hunk of cheddar between two crackers, eyeballs it, and crams the whole thing into his mouth. “You’re lucky everything just slid into place with Veronica. You got off easy.” 

There’s a pause as Archie frowns down at his mess of a charcuterie plate. “I don’t know if I’d call it easy. There was a lot of stuff we had to work through.” 

It’s a funny thing to hear, coming from a man who’s standing in the kitchen of the villa on the private island that his future father-in-law rented out for an entire week, while he heaps jamón Ibérico onto a hand-carved wooden board for a bunch of sun-drunk bros who’d be just as happy scarfing down a bag of pork rinds. But it is Archie’s wedding, so: he’ll humor him.

“Oh yeah? Like what?” 

“Like the fact that Ronnie’s dad hated me when we first got together because my dad dated her mom back in high school.”

Right. He’d forgotten about that. “Okay, sure, but that was just –”

“And then there was the year when Hiram coached the wrestling team. That was rough.” Archie shakes his head a little. “And the year after that, when I interned for him. I still have nightmares sometimes. And that time where he wanted to buy up the south side and turn it into SoDale – I mean, you know, Jug. You were there.”

“Fair enough. You didn’t hit the in-laws jackpot. But –” 

“And then there was college.” Archie continues as though he hadn’t even heard him. “Long distance was hard. And right after graduation is when Ronnie found out about Hermosa and went through that whole identity crisis thing. She broke up with me for a couple months that year, remember?”

He hadn’t, actually, until this moment. That was the same year that he’d moved to Chicago. It had taken a while before his old friendships had settled into a new rhythm that bridged the hundreds of miles between them, which was his therapist’s very nice way of saying he’d been kind of self-centered that year. 

“And then there was the thing with the bear –”

“Okay, okay.” Jughead waves both hands in defeat. “You moved mountains to be with Veronica. I get it.” 

“I’m just saying. If she’s worth it, sometimes you have to put the work in.” Eyes wide with wonder, Archie holds out a jar of cornichons. “Hey, have you ever tried these baby pickles?” 

A light sprinkle of raindrops catches Jughead just as he slips through the door to the ballroom. 

To one side of the airy, open room, Archie, Veronica, and their parents are huddled together with a severe-looking woman who can only be the wedding planner. To the other, the rest of the wedding party is mingling in clusters of two or three. 

By some miracle – or curse, he can’t decide which – Cheryl Blossom spots him first. “Look what the cat finally dragged in.” 

Scowling, Jughead glances at the time on his phone as he reaches the edge of the group. “I’m not late, Cheryl.” 

She rolls her eyes, flicking a lock of long red hair over one shoulder. “I never said you were.” 

“She’s just jealous you got one of the beachfront suites for being the best man. I got the other one.” 

He turns around, and his heart skips a beat when it’s Betty looking back at him, a hint of nerves in her smile. “Hi, Jughead.” 

“Betty.” He swallows, his mouth suddenly dry. “Hi.”

She looks radiant: eyes bright, cheeks rosy, hair pinned back in loose waves that fall just past her shoulders. He doesn’t know whether or not she wants him to touch her, but thankfully she doesn’t leave it up to him, stepping forward for a brief, perfunctory hug. 

“I’m not jealous, Cousin Betty,” Cheryl huffs. “I simply find it unacceptable that our hosts would play favorites with two single people who could be sharing a bed themselves while those of us who actually need the space are forced into a room the size of a two-cent postage stamp. Especially while my TT is in such a delicate condition.”

Before either of them can say another word, Cheryl stalks away in a huff. Jughead looks to Betty in mild alarm. “Is Toni okay? Was she in an accident or something?”

“Toni’s fine. She’s pregnant. But she’s only four months along, so you can barely even tell. They don’t need any more space.” Betty waves a hand in dismissal. “Anyway, how have you been? Are you settling in to the city?” 

Betty’s tone is genuine, curious – but also distant. Like it’s been eight months since they’ve spoken, yes, but more than that – like all the little intimacies they’d shared before have been washed away. A polite, friendly blank slate. 

It feels like his heart’s been crumpled up in a ball and tossed into the wastebasket. 

And it’s his own goddamn fault. 

[avastrasposts]

The British Connection - ch. 7

Summary: Grace Mallory makes a reluctant Billy Butcher and The Boys team up with an MI6 operative sent over from London to track down a dangerous supe killing people on both sides of the pond. Billy is being his usual arsehole self but maybe opposites attract?

It's 14 chapters and complete and 'll be posting a new chapter every day

Warnings: canon typical violence, smut, fluff, Butcher being his usual grumpy and unreasonable self, nasty supes, guns etc.

Butcher had left Eve’s flat the previous evening with more questions than answers after seeing the CCTV coverage of the attacks on the two UK politicians. Together they’d rewatched all the footage available, the two original attacks and the two later ones, but no matter how many times they watched it they came to the same conclusion; somehow the supe is controlling his victims with eye contact and potentially physical contact. But neither video gave them any clues to the identity of the supe. 

Finally, calling it a night at 2 am, Butcher left Eve’s place to get a few hours of sleep, the only plan they have is to get the CCTV footage from US attacks too and hopefully question the Deputy Secretary of the Department of Treasury, the one remaining person the supe controlled who’s still alive. Hopefully Mallory can provide both. 

The next morning Eve headed over to the Flatiron building to meet Butcher and the team again. She hadn’t slept well. A combination of demons crawling around her head when she tried to relax, made sleep difficult. When she got to the office she was grateful for the large coffee MM handed her as she said good morning to them. 

Butcher hasn’t turned up yet so she sinks down on the old sofa next to Kimiko when Frenchie offers her the seat. 

“Bonjour, mademoiselle Edwards, please, sit,” Frenchie ushers her to the seat next to the Japanese girl and perches himself on an upturned crate next to them with a big smile. 

“Monsieur Charcuterie is not ‘ere yet but, mais tu parles français? You speak French, oui?”

“Oui, j'ai appris le français à l'école, we started in Year 1. Marseille, non?

“Oui, oui,” Frenchie replies with a delighted smile, “you heard my accent?” 

“Our teacher was from Marseille. But you call Butcher, Monsieur Charcuterie? Not Monsieur Boucher?” 

“Why, what’s the difference?” Hughie asks, he’s also got a big coffee in hand. 

“Boucher is Butcher,” Frenchie says, “But charcuterie is the preparing of the meat, the cooking of the…charc?” He looks at Eve for the translation. 

“The flesh,” she says. “Charcuterie translates into cooked flesh.” 

“Oui! And this is what Monsieur Charcuterie does, he does not butcher, he cooks the flesh.”

“Ok, that’s a disturbing notion at 9:15 in the morning, Frenchie,” Hughie wrinkles his nose. 

Kimiko taps Eve on the arm and gestures to her notepad, James Bond is MI6? 

Eve reads the notes and laughs. “Yes, he’s supposed to be Mi6 but don’t believe Hollywood. I’ve done this job for many years now and not once has that included martinis in a casino,” Eve pulls a face at an unpleasant memory, “Although I did once spend five weeks working in a bar, but that was more Jäger shots and vomit cleanup than cocktails.”

“Sounds better than being covered in blood and gore,” Hughie says, “You don’t want to know what this job can literally throw at you.”

“Last year we crashed a speed boat into a whale,” Frenchie nods, “petite Hughie here ended up inside it with MM and Monsieur Charcuterie.”   

“A speed boat into a whale?” Eve says, her eyebrows raised in disbelief. 

“Ye, it was fuckin’ diabolical,” Butcher says, pushing the door closed behind himself, “Don’t give away all our secrets now, Frenchie.” 

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around how you actually manage to crash into a whale?” 

“Easy, you point the front of the boat at the cunt supe standin’ on top of it and give the engine full throttle,” Butcher gives a wicked grin. 

“I’ll feel like I should probably sign an NDA to hear the rest of this story,” Eve replies.

“Ye, best not ask too many questions,” Butcher says, “things might get redacted. Which brings me to me first point of order this morning.” Butcher steps up to the sofa and glares down at Eve. 

“Who the fuck is the fuckin’ Honourable Genevieve Horatia Daphne Byng Edwards? And who the fuck is your dear old daddy?” 

Eve looks up at Butcher for a few seconds. He’s towering over with a nasty look on his face, staring down at her with a sneer. “I’m going to guess you’ve seen my file then?” she says and pushes herself up, forcing Butcher to back up, but still bearing down on her. 

“Ye, I had to fuckin’ threaten Mallory but eventually she gave it up. Didn’t seem like she, CIA or the MI6 cunts at Vauxhall were too keen on me finding out who you actually are. Half your bleedin’ file’s been censored. But I did some digging this morning. Your name ain’t exactly run of the mill, darlin’.” 

He takes a step closer to her, she can feel the rage coming off him like heat. “Like I told you yesterday, I need all the information. But you and the fuckin’ MI6 is expecting me to risk me bleeding neck for some upperclass cunt like you? For what, a plot at Brookwood?” 

“I’ve given you all the information we need for this assignment, Butcher,” Eve says, “Who I am has nothing to do with the job at hand and doesn’t affect my performance in the field.” 

“It bloody well does, when the supe’s second victim was your dear old daddy and the girl who did the killin’, was your niece. Are you gonna stand there and tell me that seeing your niece slice her own throat won’t affect your performance in the field?” 

Eve has gone pale and she drops her gaze away from Butcher’s. He lowers his voice into a menacing growl, “Your niece didn’t get hit by a bus, she ripped your father’s throat out and then sliced her own neck open with an 8 inch blade, bleeding out on your brother’s patio.” 

“Butcher, that’s enough!” MM snaps, looking at Eve. She’s sunk down on the sofa again, her head is in her hands, as if she’s trying to block Butcher’s words.  

“No!” Butcher snarls at MM, “She’s withheld crucial information from us while asking us to go after an unknown supe to get her own revenge.”

“Yeah, Butcher, doesn’t that remind you of someone?” 

“Fuck off, MM, it ain’t the fuckin’ same!” 

“We’ve all got skin in this game, Butcher, it’s what fucking drives us. Yeah, she should’ve told us but that doesn’t make her any worse than you or me or Hughie for that matter.”

“I should’ve told you,” Eve says, her voice low, still cradling her head in her hands, “But I’m trying not to think about it. I’m trying to not think about her,” She looks up at Butcher, her jaw is clenched firm, “I’m trying to be just the soldier, not her aunt. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but you really didn’t need to know those details. It was easier to block it when you and Mallory didn’t know.” 

“Oh ye, speaking of Mallory,” Butcher growls, “The file she got from Vauxhall is unreadable. Half the fuckin’ file is blacked out and redacted.” Butcher kneels down in front of the sofa so he’s level with Eve’s face and his face has a menacing grin. “I’m gonna need you to tell me exactly what those blacked out parts say. And if I catch you in a fuckin’ lie again, I’m going straight to Vauxhall and I’m telling them all the classified info you so generously shared yesterday.” 

“Fuck you, Butcher, “ Eve says through gritted teeth. 

Butcher keeps grinning and stands up, “On your feet soldier. Hughie!” He turns to Hughie, “Hook the laptop to the big screen and plug this in, it’s Ms Edwards file, she’s going to walk us through it real nice and slow.” 

Hughie sets up the laptop and the file from Mallory’s USB stick appears on the big screen in the office. Eve gets up off the sofa and walks over to the desk while Butcher tabs through the security clearance briefing until he gets to the page with her personal info. He glances over his shoulder as Eve approaches him from behind. “I’m gonna assume you’ve still got that knife up your sleeve, darlin’,” he says. “Just don’t try anything, you only get the drop on me once.”

“Yes, I was just thinking the same, Butcher,” Eve replies with a dark look at him. 

“Now, don’t get all vindictive on me, Ms Genevieve, or is it M'lady? I ain’t quite up to date on the correct form of address of the upper classes and all that palaver,” Butcher gives her his best shit eating grin and waves her in front of the big screen. “Let’s begin shall we?” 

“Now, all this early bollocks we can skip I’d say, except maybe this bit,” Butcher tabs through the unredacted pages covering the beginning of her career and pauses on a page that’s blacked out. “What’s this? Injured in 2003 and a big gap in your resume all redacted?” 

Eve sighs, “That has nothing to do with the present day situation.” 

“I’ll be the judge of that, luv, spill it,” Butcher smirks. 

“Fine, have it your way,” Eve snaps at Butcher, “In the 90’s my father served as a judge in Northern Ireland, he moved the family over there too. He handled a number of high profile cases, putting several paramilitary leaders in The Maze.” 

“The Maze?” MM interrupts. 

“A British prison in Northern Ireland, used mainly for paramilitary prisoners during the conflict.” Eve explains. “It was a dangerous assignment, the paramilitary groups hated the occupying British forces and as a judge my father was a prime target for them. But after the Good Friday Agreement, and the ceasefire in -98, things calmed down. I had already moved back to England by then but my parents and my younger brother stayed in Northern Ireland.” 

Eve rakes her fingers through her hair, “Dad’s security detail was removed, no more bomb checks or safe houses were needed, the paramilitary groups had given up their weapons and The Maze had been closed. But some people never forgot. And in 2003 a break away paramilitary group broke into my parents home. Dad was away in London on a last minute trip or they would’ve probably only taken him. Instead they took my mother and youngest brother, Edward.”

Eve pauses and takes a deep breath, walking away from the table. “Butcher,” Hughie says, “is this really necessary, how is this relevant?” 

“She’ll tell us and then we’ll know if it’s relevant or not,” Butcher barks, “Go on,” he scowls at Eve. 

“They couldn’t get hold of my father, so they rang me. Told me that I need to get my father over to Ireland within 48 hours or they’d kill them,” Eve clenches her jaw, “They kneecapped my brother while I was on the phone so that I would hear it.” 

Even Butcher winces and MM puts his hand out and squeezes Eve’s shoulder. 

“I’m sorry, that’s fucked up.” 

“Frenchie,” Hughie whispers, “Kneecapped?”

Frenchie motions putting a gun to Hughie’s knee and pulling the trigger. 

“It’s always been the paras favourite way of punishing people,” Eve says, turning back to the table. 

“I tried going the official way, asking my CO at the time for a team but it was a no go. As far as MI6 was concerned, Northern Ireland and Ireland were off limits. Any operation could potentially derail the peace process. So I went the unofficial route and called in favours. Two of the men I’d served with the previous year came through and we set a trap at the drop off point just across the Irish border. When they came for my father, we wiped them out.” 

“How many?” Butcher asks. 

“Six hostiles, one civilian and one of ours. Jack didn’t make it, I was injured and Cochran pulled me out. He was one of the two with me,” Eve looks over the rest of the team, “Cochran is my Commanding Officer back in London these days.” 

“And your family?” Butcher asks, his voice softer now. 

“They weren’t there. I don’t think the paras meant to hand them over at all. Both my mother and brother were found a day later in a ditch outside Crossmaglen. Kneecapped and executed.”

Eve goes silent, and not even Butcher speaks. 

Eventually Eve draws a deep breath, as if she’s been biting down on tears, and continues, “I was demoted, almost discharged. Spent the next 18 months in rehab, officially, but unofficially I was out in the cold on desk duty sorting paper clips. I was eventually brought back in because there was suddenly a desperate need for operatives who could speak Arabic and Farsi after the July 7th attacks in 2005.” 

MM pushes himself up from the filing cabinet he’s been leaning on, “So, if I’ve got this right, you go off and do your own thing, using MI6 personnel and material I assume, to save your family. One of your men is killed and MI6 finds out about the whole operation and you’re punished, right?”

“Right.” 

“But why is that part censored and how’s it connected to the present day?” 

“To hide my connection to Viscount Torrington, my father. If you don’t know that our family name is Byng, you won’t make the connection. And if you don’t make the connection you won’t question the decision to have an operative with, as you said, skin in the game.” 

She looks over at Butcher, “MI6 doesn’t trust me, they think I’ll treat this as a personal mission again. But Cochran trusts me and the redactions are his way of protecting me.”

“What does MI6 think you’ll do?” he asks. 

“Kill the supe. With your help.” 

“And what does MI6 want you to do?” 

“Capture the supe, bring him back to the UK without letting the CIA get their hands on him.” 

“Million dollar question then, luv,” Butcher grins, “What do you wanna you do?” 

“Kill him,” Eve says flatly. 

“But Cochran is banking on you following MI6 orders?” Butcher crosses his arms and gives Eve a hard look, “You’re gonna betray the trust of the one man at MI6 who’s protecting you? You do that and you’re out of a job, darlin’.” 

“She was my niece and she was eight years old. I want to find the man who did that to her and I want him dead,” Eve says with a determined voice, staring at Butcher. 

“You better fuckin’ mean that, because when we find this cunt, you’d better not get in my way.” 

“Butcher, if I need to, I’m going through you to get him.” 

Chapter 8

[crygimethydgoode]

CHAPTER 2 OF COME AND FIND ME IS POSTED!!! this chapter is called Style and kinda helped fuel the writing of this entire story so we are very excited to share it <3

UPLOADED ON AO3 NOW AND WILL BE POSTED ON TUMBLR AT SOME POINT IDK WHEN

—————

“SHUT UP, GIRLS! I AM ON THE PHONE!” Jane cried.

“BITCH! It’s a charcuterie board! You can share!” It was then Tia heard a bright and familiar laugh, barely audible, but far too easy for her to recognize. Her heart dropped, senses suddenly flooded as she heard herself call out.

“Is Dada there!?”

“Tia!?” And then Tia was snatching Nymphia’s phone out of her hand (Nymphia handed it to her halfway). Her dropped heart rose to her throat the second Dada’s face came into view after also intercepting Jane’s phone. She looked as beautiful as ever, unable to stop the grin spreading on her face. Tia saw the time, it was almost eight. And for once in her life, Tia knew she needed to be like Nymphia. Not brave, but shameless.

“What are you doing right now?” She wasn’t even processing the words she was saying, her body felt like it was floating but she was all too aware of the fact that she was standing, her knees felt a little weak.

—————

[spyvstailor]

Burn, Baby, Burn - Chapter One

@acapelladitty I wrote a Firefly and Baby Doll buddy comedy, with a dark edge to it. I dunno...it just sort of came out.

If this was salvation, why did it buzz so loud?

Green eyes fluttered closed as the cacophony of the angels sang around him, they blended with the buzzing until they became a low, droning tone. The music set the soundtrack for the orange glow that bathed a pale, weary face.

Pyromaniacs burn out, someone had once joked. Was it the Joker who said that? Even doped up on powerful anti-psychotics as he had been, the green haired man was hard to keep docile.

You're just a match.

Burning.

Burning...

Burning......

Burning.........

Out.

Ashes.

Only ashes and smoke.

“Hey, man, we gotta close up. You buying or what?”

They call me "hell"

They call me Stacey

They call me "her"

They call me Jane

The music of the angels choir morphed into something else entirely and the Fireball Whiskey neon sign blinked out as the man speaking with him pulled the metal bead cord. It clinked against the wall behind the sign, as the man turned to face him.

Garfield turned away, forgetting why he had even entered the liquor store. He wasn't supposed to drink on his meds.

He shuffled towards the door in his scuffed brown Oxfords.

At the door his reflection stopped him and he gazed back numbly at himself, dressed in what he assumed was a dead man's clothes, looking like an old man before his time.

It was probably the chino's that were too short, the argyle socks that showed in the span between the oxfords and the pant hems, and the knit cardigan over a button up that created the effect. The clothes were given to him by the Sister's of the Veil of Tears, and he was very certain they had robbed a corpse for them.

It didn't matter, the cardigan was warm and it was the heat he craved. The world was too cold.

“Dude go!” The man behind him shouted.

Garfield pushed open the door, shoving himself aside, and stepped out into the night.

He found his way to the only place he felt like he was accepted, which fucking sucked, because it was full of lowlife scum and high class whores, and every rogue that ever coloured Batman's bulletin.

The Iceberg Lounge was dim enough, and quiet enough, and classy enough that it wasn't a shit hole, it was just full of shit people.

But Ozzie was warm enough to him, and every now and then the other criminals of Gotham's underbelly would give him a respectful nod.

He was technically supposed to be there, it broke his parole, but it was either sit and rot in a dark booth there, or sit on the edge of his sagging, spring trap bed in his miserable hole in the wall halfway house apartment.

And Ozzie never forced him to pay a cover charge, though he did watch Garfield very carefully some nights through his office window, overlooking the dancefloor.

It was unspoken Garfield would take a stool at the bar if the place was packed.

The criminals in Gotham were an interesting breed. You had your popular clique, your Joker's and your Catwomen and your Two-Face's, but then at the far end of the spectrum were your pathetic losers, your Calendar Men, your Mr. Camera's, your fucking Captain Blimp's. The criminals that were so embarrassing, you felt second hand shame if you stood too close. They were real stinkers, fucking mouldy cheese on the charcuterie board that was Gotham City.

Every now and then you got a glimpse of the top dogs, the cream of the crop and it felt like a goddamned celebrity sighting.

Garfield fucking hated it, but then again his meds made him irritable and exhausted, which naturally lead to him being so tired of everyone's bullshit.

The Riddler built a fucking puzzle box inside an abandoned warehouse and trapped the Mayor's daughter in it?

Whoop-de-fucking-doo.

Poison Ivy infected half of the greater downtown area with a sex pollen that only infected adult men, and only enticed them to fuck trees?

Get fucking splintered assholes.

Oh, Freeze coated everything on the upper east side with ice?

Sarcastic applause, that's never been done before.

Maybe it was time to up his meds? He thought as he drank his soda pop like a fucking child and sat in his old man pants, thinking bitterly of the world like a teenager.

“Who the fuck let this kid in here?!” Someone shouted from the bar, grabbing Garfield's attention and he looked over and up to find a little girl sitting boldly at the bar, swinging her feet in her lovingly polished Mary Jane's.

“Get fucked asshole!” The child snapped at the bartender.

“You can't be in here, kid,” the bartender said. “Where's your parents?”

“Tag teaming your mom, pal,” the girl replied. “I had a rough goddamned day and I just want a gin, okay?”

“Get the fuck out of here! Where's Carson?! Carson! We got a kid in here!” The bartender called for the one armed bouncer. Carson had said he had lost the arm to a fight with Killer Croc, but damned if he wasn't made of harder stuff than to quit his job.

Garfield smiled to himself.

Carson knew and he knew, but the bartender was new since Garfield had been in Arkham.

The poor woman. She was 30 years old, but she small, maybe 4'8” with heels, if she could find ones small enough, and 75 pounds soaking wet. Her face was delicate, youthful for sure. It would be easy to take her for a 10 year old if you didn't look hard enough.

Carson wandered onto the scene with a grin. “It's fine. That's Baby Doll, she's good.”

“She's a fucking kid,” the bartender argued.

“Want me to show you the hair on my snatch, jackass?” Baby Doll demanded.

For the first time since he had gone maniac before Arkham, Garfield laughed, it wasn't just a chuckle, it was drop your head into your hands and muffle your belly laugh, kind of laughter.

He wasn't alone, half of the Iceberg were cutting up, laughing as the bartender turned bright red and sputtered, not knowing how to respond to a petite, 30 year old offering to whip out her puss just to prove she was at least a grown assed woman, despite the clothes that looked like she bought in the children's section.

Oh, the criminals in Gotham were fucked up. He mused as he dried a tear. He had only personally met Baby Doll once in passing, and that had been long, long before the mania, when he was just Garfield Lynns, pyrotechnics expert, working the silver screen dream of burning shit safely and dramatically, and she had just been Mary Louise Dahl, 'child' actor. She was a bit of a brat, but he didn't mind, she wasn't as bad as most actors.

After a considerate moment, he raked a hand through his hair and got to his feet, approaching the bar and the small woman sitting there. He eased down a couple of stools away from her and took a surreptitious look in her direction as she sipped her gin and tonic with the cherry in it.

“Get lost creep,” she murmured, not even breaking eye contact with her phone where it looked like she was playing some kind of game.

“I'm not...we met once before,” he began simply helping himself to a bar peanut and shelling it.

“And?” She demanded, still playing her game.

He moved a few stools closer to her and snacked on his peanut. “You know, if you want people to stop mistaking you for a kid, maybe you should stop dressing like a kid.”

“Great,” she muttered, “I'm getting fashion advice from my 90 year old grandpa.”

Garfield nodded and looked down at his cardigan and button up shirt. “Okay, fair point.”

With a sigh, she set her phone down and looked over at him. “You look like shit, Firefly.”

Startled that she knew who he was, he floundered for a moment, before recovering. “I'm, uh...heavily medicated.”

She glowered a little at him.

“I just...we met on set once, a long time ago. I was rigging the pyrotechnics for a firework scene on your show, Love That Baby? Remember?”

“No, I don't remember you yelling at me for standing too close to the rig,” she returned dryly.

He smiled only a little, pleased she remembered him. Not many people did when he wasn't burning their shit down.

Mary Louise smiled a little in return, but it was still coated with a heavy air of annoyance and she all but rolled her dark, almond eyes. “What do you want, techie?”

“I really don't know, maybe I just wanted to sit beside someone having a worse day than me,” he said.

They were quiet, both of them nursing their drinks, his soda pop having gone flat years ago.

“I have to wear kids clothes,” she finally admitted, brushing her raven black hair behind her ear, “because clothes in the adult section don't fit and I'm not rich enough to get my shit tailor made.”

He knew since her show was cancelled, since she had gone through the whole 'criminal of the week' like he did, that she had fallen from the starlit grace she had been accustomed to when she was actually younger. Back when she was a young twentysomething, playing a ten year old girl on an after school special type show, back when people adored her and her looking young enough to play the part without the union having to adhere to the rules of an actual child actor. She was in the same hole he had dug for himself, only Baby Doll was clawing at the sides of her hole, trying to find her way out and Garfield was thinking of getting a houseplant for his and settling into the earth to wait to die.

He took a long swig of his flat soda and tried hard not to gaze into the flickering flame of the tabletop candle burning on the bar near them and said, “I got my clothes from the homeless bin at the local church, I think someone died in them, so...that's what's going on here.”

“Gross,” Mary Louise said. “You're going to get like cholera or something. You know people shit themselves when they die.”

“Yeah,” he murmured into his soda. “What is cholera, anyways?”

“I don't know, like an old man disease,” she replied. “Why are you still bothering me?!”

At first Garfield thought she was yelling at him, but she was waving her hand irritably at the bartender.

“The talent needs space,” Garfield said to the man. As he glanced over at Mary Louise, he found her smiling a little proudly, that shine of being a star once more lighting up her face and he nodded firmly once at her as though he was agreeing silently that she was still the talent.

Mary Louise sighed. “Sorry I implied you're a pedo. Experience says only one kind of man approaches me at a bar.”

“I didn't...I just...” he faltered.

“I get it,” she said sincerely, gazing at her gin as though mesmerized by the drink. “Familiarity can be a comfort...”

Garfield gazed past her, eyes drawn to the candle flame flickering at the end of the bar, he watched the flame as it danced and pulsed, before closing his eyes tight and dropping his gaze to his own drink, his hands shaking.

“Can I get a whiskey, a double?” He asked the bartender without looking up from his flat soda.

The man nodded from his place a couple feet away.

Baby Doll downed her gin and set it on the bar hard, slamming the glass down. “And give me another one of those?”

Set light to this fucking night, Garfield thought as his whiskey arrived, watch the powder keg go off.

The rest of the night happened in flashes, between whiskey and a couple of shots of something Mary Louise had ordered for them, was colours and lights.

“You do it like this,” Mary Louise was explaining to him a new dance all the kids were doing as he drank deep from his glass of whatever it was he was drinking.

Laughter.

“You're paying for that,” Ozzie said as Garfield stood over a broken stool.

Falling down in the alley.

“Can you introduce me?” The Mad Hatter was asking, eyes looking past him to Mary Louise ordering more drinks at the bar.

A blink.

Putting the Mad Hatter into a headlock.

Laughter.

“No, the Charleston is more like this,” he shouted at Mary Louise over the noise of the dancefloor of some other club.

Falling down on the sidewalk, or was he being shoved down.

Holding Mary Louise back from beating the shit out of some lippy young woman who was shouting back at her, the words lost to the liquor.

Garfield tilting his head back to stop the blood from dribbling out of his broken nose.

“That's...that's not dabbing!” Mary Louise was laughing at him.

Music, so loud it vibrated in his ears.

“No! No that's...no you're thinking of the Deer Hunter!” He shouted.

Laughter.

A taxidermy fish?

“We should steal that orb!” Mary Louise was talking.

Someone falling down beside him on the pavement.

“...I'm sane, but I'm overwhelmed!” They belted into a microphone. “I'm lost but I'm hopeful, baby!”

Knocking over a stand of potato chips.

Wal-Mart?

“That's still not...no it's not...that isn't dabbing!”

Laughter.

“No, he's not! That's...you're just...it's a conspiracy theory! Bruce Wayne can't be Batman! Because he's rich and Batman is...a man who dresses like a bat!”

Falling down on the railway tracks.

“'Cuz I've got one hand in my pocket and the other one is giving a high five!”

Throwing a frozen crab into the bay.

“Okay, but then...which is the one with Robert DeNiro?”

Falling onto a couch.

Death.

His first thought when his eyes cracked open was that he wished for death. Afraid to move, knowing that what awaited him was pain and vomiting. So he lay as still as he could and suffered in silence as his head throbbed.

He needed water and a gun.

Outside the sun was mercilessly shining, the birds were chirping and the sounds of the city were so fucking annoying.

Garfield chanced a very, very slow turn of his head so he wasn't just staring up at the ceiling above him.

Thank God, he was home in his shitty fucking apartment.

His mouth tasted like a leprechaun shit in it with a hint of ash and he really, really needed water.

“Are you dead?” He asked the other presence he sensed in the room with him.

“Unfortunately no,” she muttered from behind his couch.

“Are you on the floor?”

“I think so.”

He grunted as he shifted into a position to get ready to move into a sitting position.

“You're younger,” he sighed giving up. “Get me some water.”

“Get fucked,” she replied weakly.

“Get grandpa some water,” he tried to sweeten her up with a joke.

She snorted. “Go back to sleep, if you sleep long enough it goes away.”

Sounded plausible, he closed his eyes again.

[twobraincellkentwell]

You Know The Stars, You Know The Game

[A Game Called Revenge]

Part Five

Series Masterlist Part One.

Summary: "ᴡᴇ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴀᴍᴇ ꜱᴛᴀʀꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴇᴇ ꜱᴜᴄʜ ᴅɪꜰꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴛ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ." The afternoon after the Reaping is always the same every year for a District Two tribute. Sniffing out the other tributes and forming an alliance. Only this year they know the stars of the deadliest game.

Warnings: strictly 18+ due to the nature of content in some of the chapters. I don't think there's any specific chapter warnings this week, but there is the usual mentions of murder and death.

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: Hello there. Again, shit is real and getting real close. And as with the other chapters, if anyone wants to guess my favourite line then you get ten points. and if you know where the chapter title is from then you can have a bonus five.

Cato and Enobaria are already sitting at the long, mahogany table in the dining car when Clio and Brutus arrive and Xanthe arrives moments after they've sat down in their respective places.

"Just look at all this food!" She exclaims from behind them, practically glowing with excitement at the mere sight of the food laid out. "It's all for you, my victors!"

Food was piled high, each delicacy arranged on smooth, porcelain plates and silver platters. Various varieties of rich soup, fresh, crisp salads, cured meats and cheeses spread on solid silver charcuterie boards cover the table whilst several different fruits and desserts wait on display tables beside the chairs. Polished platinum goblets have been placed in front of each place mat, filled with colourful wine and ready to be drunk from. As soon as Xanthe sits at her seat around the dining table, Cato's hand is reaching towards the strips of meat on the platter, pulling a few onto his plate.

"Cato!" Xanthe scolds him for his manners.

"What?" He refutes, "I'm hungry."

"You're always hungry." Enobaria says quietly, almost as if she hadn't meant to say it aloud at all and looks up to find everyone's eyes on her as they break into laughter.

After their meal was over, Xanthe rises from her seat, signalling a nearby Avox to clear the empty plates and beckons the four into another room on the train while she dabs the corners of her lipstick stained mouth with an intricately folded serviette. "The recap of the Reapings is about to start!" Xanthe chirps, pointing to the plush couch in a gesture to make her victors sit as Panem's anthem plays through the large television.

"I haven't heard anything about who's been reaped this year but oh what a show this will be!" The escort continues as the four of them throw themselves on the large semi-circle couch, missing the eyerolls directed her way at her oblivious nature. Enobaria reaches for the pads of paper on the side table, passing a sheet to the other three and chucking pens in their direction.

The programme starts with District One, as usual.

"Cashmere and Gloss." Enobaria says, as everyone watches Cashmere's face falter for a split second when her brother's name is pulled out of the bowl. "They didn't volunteer, which is good for you two. Their arrogance comes from being paraded around the Capitol so long, but their skills aren't on par with yours anymore."

Brutus nods in agreement, "They're weaknesses are each other. Likely going to be highly guarded."

"So what you're saying is that we have to take them out at the same time?" Cato asks.

"Yes." Brutus confirms, "They might be your friends but given how Clio took out the Ones in her year, they're not going to be ones to trust when it comes down to it."

Clio watches Cashmere and Gloss raise their hands in the air on screen, fake smiles plastered on their faces as they shake their hands in confidence before the screen goes black momentarily. "The career alliance is still happening?" She asks.

"Yes." Enobaria answers, "We'll meet up with them when we get into the Capitol tonight as usual."

"Oh you two look wonderful up there!" Xanthe cries out, drawing everyone's attention back to the screen where the District Two reaping plays on screen.

Clio watches herself react to her name being called on the large screen. Happy, when no hesitation to step forward is caught by the cameras; the only reaction that of the slight curve of her lips which sets her features in a smirk that plays into her bloodthirsty persona perfectly. She watches the same expression mirrored on Cato's face as his name is pulled from the bowl; impressed that they both managed to keep their strong emotions in check for the cameras.

"That shit was rigged." Cato spits as he watches himself on screen.

"Cato!" Xanthe gasps, looking nervous as she scans the cart for unwanted listeners.

"Zeus fucking Melia clearly put our names in those bowls because I pissed him off. If you were to have picked any of those other slips it would still be us sitting here." He turns to Clio, "I'm sorry angel."

She laughs, "It's fine. Besides, I'm probably in there five times for pissing Snow off last year. We both fucked up."

"Well the good news is that you two are more than ready, and the Capitol loves you so it won't be hard to get our usual sponsors on board." Enobaria says, pointing to the screen where District Three begins to play.

"Wiress and Beetee, interesting." Brutus hums. The displeasure on their faces is visible. Beetee looks insecure standing on the stage once more, pushing his glasses up his face several times when they slip as he looks toward the ground whilst Wiress is pale, shaking ever so slightly as she moves onstage, a blank, distant look on her face - almost as if she wasn't completely present.

"Not great threats." The man continues, "But they're geniuses so don't underestimate them, especially if Beetee has access to water and a wire."

The couple look at each other with wide eyes. They've been taught about the nature of Beetee's win in the Academy. How he electrocuted half of the tributes, including all of the careers with a single piece of wire. I don't particularly want to die from electrocution, Clio thinks, taking a breath in as the tape moves to the next district.

"Ah Finnick Odair, youngest victor ever and will not shut up about it." Brutus punctuates his sentence with an eyeroll. "Extremely humble."

The trio of victors on the couch all let out a snort simultaneously. They've all gotten to know Finnick and humble is never a word that Clio would use to describe the man, watching as he grins and waves to all the cameras in a white long-sleeved knit jumper and a small black threaded shell necklace.

"What is he wearing?" Cato asks with a scoff. Tributes always want to wear their best clothing on Reaping day, on the chance that they were picked. A good impression is always important; something that had been drilled into them from their first days at the Academy.

"Fuck knows," Brutus chuckles. "No doubt flaunting to the Capitol. Charming, smart and very skilled in water. You'll do well to remember our training."

"We'll be discussing with the District Four mentors to try and get him in on the alliance." Enobaria says before pointing at the screen. "The only issue is that he'll be part of a package deal."

Clio watches as an older woman wastes no time in raising her hand, pointing to herself after signing something to a panicked Luna standing beside her. "Mags..."

Brutus nods slowly, a frown on his face as he watches Mags move to stand at Finnick's side, the latter placing a soft kiss into her hair as he wraps her in a hug. The four tributes eyes' gleamed slightly as they blink back their emotions, each mentally blaming the reflection of the television screen for the difference in their vision. "Look, no one is going to want to kill Mags but-"

"She's a liability to the alliance." Cato cuts him off.

"You'll be risking a lot to help her survive," Enobaria shrugs, leaning back further into the sofa, "Even if you manage to keep her alive until the final few tributes, it would only mean having to kill her to win."

As the screen moves to show the reaping in District Five, the four sit in silence. Even Xanthe hangs her head, evidently saddened by Mags' involvement in the games for the woman is such a strong motherly figure to so many; victors and Capitol escorts alike. Not being able to think of anything past the reapings being rigged, Cato is the one to break the silence.

"You think that Mags volunteered for Luna?" He asks no one in particular.

"It's highly likely." Enobaria replies. "From what I've seen they're reaping those of you who have caused some kind of problem."

"The Capitol's golden boy?" Cato laughs, "What did he sleep with t-"

"Cato." Brutus interrupts him, "Shut up."

Confusion washes over Clio's face as she processes the information she has just heard. Why would Finnick sleeping with Luna Crawford be a problem for President Snow? She thinks, I know she's gone a bit crazy but how is that really an issue he needs to be worrying about? Before she has a chance to ask, the screen moves to show the morphlings in District Six. Both sets of tributes from Five and Six look worse for wear, succumbing to addiction as if a gust of wind would cause them to fall dead on the ground. Neither Clio or Cato need their mentors to tell them those two aren't a threat, they can tell just by watching them tremble that they're likely cannon fodder - easy to kill in the bloodbath.

"Johanna and Blight." Enobaria says. "Blight isn't a threat but Johanna will need taking out."

"And quickly." Brutus agrees. "She doesn't trust career tributes as far as she can throw them. She will be out for you both so you need to do it first."

Clio watches on screen as Johanna stands at the front of the stage, arms crossed against her chest defiantly and a furious expression on her face. She missed when they pulled Johanna's name out of the bowl but she finds herself wondering why they even bothered with the formalities in District Seven. Johanna is the only living female victor from Seven so she was given no choice in returning to the arena, and from what Clio knows of Johanna's time in the Capitol after her games, Enobaria's problem victor theory is beginning to ring true. She raises an eyebrow at Blight, who looks nervous, though it's obvious he's attempting to not let this show as he stares down the camera before the coverage moves to the next district.

Districts Eight, Nine and Ten all pass in the same way. They're all fairly bland for victors. Nobody seems excited to have their name called. Nobody wants to go. All upwards of their thirties, several considered elderly and most of them in terrible shape, except for Chaff who still looks tall and visibly strong despite likely being nearly fifty. Xanthe makes comments on how incredibly touching it is when Cecilia is reaped and has to push away from a gaggle of children who cling to her legs to try and prevent her from taking her place on the stage. The pair from Ten shed a few tears, looking into each other's eyes desperately and refusing to part from each other. Each person from District Eight through to District Eleven looks resigned to their fate as the unenthusiastic clapping in their Districts make the atmosphere look duller, greyer and even more boring than usual until the camera switches to the final reaping.

Of all the Districts, the atmosphere in the twelfth was the dullest. Heavy and low. District Twelve is the poorest, dingiest district in Panem and having visited it on her victory tour, Clio is fully aware that they despise the Games. But the sheer lack of colour in the town square stands out. Even in the other outlying Districts, there was at least one decorative banner but Twelve seems to have nothing but a blank, dark grey building and a single lower resolution camera following their movements. The four of them watch as the escort, dressed in an extravagant wig covered in orange butterflies, places her hand inside the bowl. Clio's brow arches when she appears to fish around in the bowl as if another piece of paper will magically appear and she won't have to call out Katniss' name. They listen as the escort swallows loudly and reads the young girl's name, a tear slipping down her cheek as Katniss moves to the middle of stage. They lean forward on the sofa once Haymitch's name is announced in a high pitched gasp from the escort. Intrigued, they watch as Peeta immediately volunteers, stepping forward only to have his arm grabbed by Haymitch as the microphone picks up the words "I can't you do that" followed by a blunt response of "You can't stop me" as Peeta takes his place beside his district partner.

"Is he suicidal?" Cato asks, causing the four of them on the couch to laugh lightly.

"As much as he might be, the two of them have gained huge popularity in the Capitol over the past year which will provide them with a lot of sponsors." Brutus responds, as he switches the television off.

"Popularity they've gained from pretending to be like us." Clio seethes, pushing herself to a stand.

"Everyone will be after her. These games are a direct result of her actions but all she's done is glued a target to her back." Enobaria tells her, eyes following Clio's movements as the younger girl heads in the direction of the glass dividers.

"I hate her." Clio spits furiously. "I don't care who kills him as long as I get her."

The glass divider hisses shut behind her and the mentors find themselves thankful that the train car can't shake with the anger Clio would leave in her wake if there were solid oak doors inside. Weaving in and out between the different cars, she then reaches her own, sliding off the plush white slippers provided by the Capitol and jumps onto her bed. She sighs, searching for the remote of the television in her room before switching it on and crossing her arms over her chest in anger. A glance out of the train window tells her that they've got close to forty-five minutes to kill before arriving in the Capitol and having their first alliance meeting with their friends. Deciding against rooting through the small bookshelf in her room which she did in her first year on the train, she surfs through the trashy reality programmes on the television. There's nothing really all that interesting on considering that the Reaping is being replayed over and over on half of the main channels but she keeps flicking until she finally settles on a programme so trashy it will be sure to lift her mood: Real Housewives of Panem. She's so engrossed in the programme she doesn't avert her gaze when Cato enters her room and throws himself onto the bed beside her, watching her features relax ever so slightly at the idiots on screen.

As the train grinds to a halt after a while, the sound of the Capitol's citizens is deafening. Several dozen stand outside the train car, all dressed in vivid, intricate outfits with brightly coloured hair and makeup; all desperate to catch a glimpse of two of their recent, and favourite victors. They're waving and shouting and cheering as the Clio moves to stand by the window. She can't hear what they're shouting through the thick glass over the sound of the train but she watches as they throw flowers and soft toys at the windows of the train, desperate to be the one who grabs the attention of a tribute. The squeals of the crowd only get louder when Cato joins her side and the couple wave at the growing mass of people.

They continue to wave through the growing discomfort in their wrists until Xanthe enters the room. She's changed her hair in the time it took for them to reach the capitol, the golden strands styled in neat curls held tightly above her head to compliment the deep wine red dress with a high, lifted lace collar. "There you two are" she smiles as she waves apologetically to the crowd waiting on the train platform; she is stealing two of their tributes from them after all as she blathers on about their schedule.

Xanthe is the first one off of the train. Cato follows after her, Clio hot on his heels with Brutus and Enobaria following a few steps behind; the four of them having to shrug off the hands of various people who are shouting their names as they try to cling to them. Cato reaches his hand behind him, and without a word Clio puts her hand in his as he looks straight ahead and tugs her with him away from the crowd and into the new Tribute Centre. This new building hosts an extra, thirteenth penthouse floor this year and Clio can't fathom why as she is herded through the lobby and into the glass lift. The ride taking them to the second floor is incredibly short, and the doors slide open to a hall decked with elaborate golden picture frames and another intricately decorated door which has the number two painted in a solid gold and detailed with golden leaves speckled with burgundy red. Once the door is opened, the new suite comes into view and the expanse of the room is visible. Filled with various different colours and styles of furniture they all compliment the matte black walls and ceilings, each adorned with gold accents.

"We have ten minutes until we need to be on the first floor." Xanthe tells them, as she shows them to their rooms. The rooms are large and lavish. Much like the foyer, the walls are painted a matte black, gold trim running along the top. The bed frames and furniture are coated in gold and the bathroom is made almost entirely out of black marble tiles and houses two control panels; one above the sink and the other above the tub and shower head. Quickly washing off her makeup and tying her hair up in a loose ponytail she heads back into their living room area.

As they step into the lift, Brutus turns to them, "These may have been your friends before but they're purely your allies now. Remember they'll want you dead the second they step in there but you're far too useful to them for now."

Well that's just lovely, Clio thinks, so much for 'friendship'. As Topaz, one of the mentors for One this year opens the shiny silver door for them, Clio can't help but gape at the opulence of their floor. Sparkling ceilings reflect a variety of jewel tones. The furniture is similar to these on the second floor but is all made in complimentary silver or gold depending on the jewel tone represented in the ceiling. Ruby red matches with golden trims and sapphire blue paired with silver accents. The seating area consists of identical velvet chaise longues, each one a pristine white with silver furnishings.

The four of them immediately take a seat, Enobaria moves to sit beside Topaz whilst Brutus joins Augusus on the furthest chaise longue to the right, leaving Clio and Cato to slot themselves either side of Cashmere and Gloss who smile at them from the middle of the couch. There's no need for introductions this year, unlike their respective years as tributes, they've all met before. They even helped construct the career alliance in last year's games.

Augustus starts laughing, "We all know why we're here."

When the group nods he continues, "Normally we'd talk about our skills but considering we all know one another and our strengths I don't think there's any point in introducing ourselves. Instead I suggest that we talk about our greatest competition and how our alliance can take them down."

Enobaria speaks next, "You four have a diverse group of skills at play here. Clio and Cashmere can sort out any of your long range targets with their throwing knives. All of you can throw a spear with some accuracy and I am confident that both Cato and Gloss can hold their own in hand to hand combat and swords."

There's hums of agreement as they wait for whoever will speak next. It's Gloss. "I want to lead." Several pairs of eyes flit to him. "I'm the oldest."

"He does have the most experience with this kind of thing being older and having had more tributes." Cashmere backs her brother up as she turns to face Clio beside her, waiting for her opinion. Clio finds it odd that she's not pushing to be leader herself, given that she's only a year younger than Gloss and has always been the more commanding of the two. Her eyes meet Cato's on the other end of the couch before they reluctantly agree - no point in pissing off their allies already after all.

"Given that this is a Quarter Quell, I want you to hit all the main survival stations again in your training. Brush up on your knowledge of edible plants, water location and basic first aid. We have no way of knowing what, if anything, will be in the Cornucopia this time so that will be important." Topaz instructs them.

"And commandeer the weapons stations. Do not give the other victors a chance to learn a new skill." Brutus chimes in as the others nod before the tributes are dismissed.

It's strange to all of them, the four on the couch being sent back into their respective rooms like children again so that their mentors can strategise now that the alliance has been agreed upon and a leader has been established. Once they are back in their suite, the two flop down next to each other on the soft black couch and begin to talk their own strategy.

"I'm not going to lie to you, Clio," Cato says, causing her head to snap towards him in concern. "I know you and Cashmere are friends but Gloss pissed me off when I first met him and he's pissing me off now."

Clio laughs, "You think I don't know that?" She nudges at his side playfully, "To be honest the way he's treating us like children is pissing me off too."

"I'm the oldest," Cato mocks, raising his voice an octave causing Clio to laugh again. "Enobaria was right when she mentioned their arrogance. They both think they can win alone."

"For our friends they don't seem overly keen in forming an alliance with us. There's something in Gloss' eyes that is telling me not to trust him."

Cato nods. "I just don't know if the alliance is a good idea at all. Maybe it should just be you and I. It wouldn't be easy but we need to think about betraying them in the bloodbath."

Unfortunately I don't think he's wrong, Clio thinks. She mulls over her options, weighing up the value of her new found friendship with Cashmere. My friendship with her is going to come to an end anyway, may as well betray her to keep Cato alive.

They jump when the suite door slams open. Their mentors don't say anything until they have watched the door shut, sealing them into the room.

"They cannot be trusted." Enobaria says almost immediately. "One of you must be awake at all times around them in that arena. Do not leave yourselves vulnerable in any way because they will take that as their sign to end the alliance."

Clio looks at her quizzically, wanting to ask how their mentors have come to this conclusion. She trusts Enobaria and Brutus with her life since they helped to get her out of the arena the first time but her words leave her slightly puzzled as to what was said in the last ten minutes to so drastically change their opinion on the alliance.

"They don't trust you, Clio." Brutus says bluntly. "After what you pulled with their tributes they think it's best to remove you from the equation."

Clio scoffs, "For fucks sake. I'm not the only one who's broken an alliance."

"She's right," Cato agrees, "I killed the boy from One in my year and they must have killed at least one of ours in theirs."

Both of their mentors know they're right. The career alliance is never meant to last the entirety of the Games anyway. Someone has to break the alliance at some point, but they can understand why the siblings are extra weary this time around.

"It wouldn't hurt to be cautious." Enobaria says. "Topaz and Augustus know that they need the two of you to remove the likes of Finnick and Johanna but as soon as they're dealt with I suggest you deal with One. And quickly."

"We have come to the decision that any sponsors received will be kept separate between Districts, so we're really going to be fighting tooth and nail to get you anything this year. Especially with Finnick and Katniss to contend with as well." Brutus informs the two of them. "I need you on your best behaviour at all times, and do not go anywhere without the other while I'm trying to convince some stupid wig wearing fuckers that you two are the better couple."

"Could dealing with them mean eliminating them at the bloodbath?" Cato asks, voice casual as he continues. "Sure, it would give some of the others the chance to run away but we could always hunt them back down."

Enobaria shakes her head, "They're fast. By the time you take out one, the other will be there waiting and besides, an unstable group of four will increase your odds if you run into a few of the others. They aren't the only threats."

"But I-"

Brutus quickly interrupts Cato with a shake of his head. "This isn't some fun game anymore Cato. You're up against victors, strong and experienced and older than you. You're going to need to get creative."

With a roll of his eyes, Cato responds, "Fine."

"Did you propose any terms on who gets to smother the girl on fire?" Clio asks.

"They both want the glory of the kill." Enobaria responds, "But I strongly suggested to Topaz that they leave her for you. You're welcome."

Brutus is the one to move the topic of conversation along. "Look, we can fine tune our strategy later in the week. For now, go get some rest. The ceremony is in the afternoon this year so your prep teams will be up early to get you ready while Enobaria and I speak to Luna and Ven about Finnick."

"Yes, sir." Cato jokingly salutes as the two of them rise from the couch and head towards the bedrooms at the end of the floor.

[sakurachan7734]

Nothing but a lab rat

Kim’s backstory

Chapter 1: birthday gift

John: I’m home!!

Kim:(4) hi daddy!!

Angel: hello dear how was work?

John: it was good * pulls out a bouquet of flowers and a bracelet*I got these for you

Angel:* takes the flowers and bracelet*aww thank you dear

Kim: what’s behind your back?

John: it’s for your birthday tomorrow

Kim: ok daddy

John: why don’t you help me with dinner?

Kim: ok daddy!

Kim and John start making dinner

Angel pov

I already know what John got Kim I can’t believe he is giving a almost 5 year old a very expensive necklace and he gave his wife of six years flowers and a bracelet and I feel like he is spending more time with her than me

At dinner

Angel: you did a good job dear

John: your welcome angel

Angel: are you excited for your birthday tomorrow Kim?

Kim: I am!!

Angel: good

A few hours later Kim goes to bed and Angel and John are drinking wine in the living room

John: I will be right back

Angel: where are you going?

John: i’m gonna set up a charcuterie board 

Angel: that would be nice

John goes to the kitchen and Angel gets a phone call

Angel:* answers* hello? 

?????: hello I am a worker of the company who wants to test out human blood with animal blood and we know that you have a little girl we were wondering if you would like to give your daughter to science we promised to give her back unharmed 

Angel: of course! How much do I need to pay you?! I am getting tired of this little brat

?????: no pay we will give you money for her what time is a good time to pick her up? 

Angel: march 20 

?????: good

The call ends and John comes back from the kitchen 

John: who were you talking about?

Angel: my cousin

John: about selling something?

Angel: yes

The next day

John: Kim I have a present for you!

Kim: what is it?

John:* takes out a little white box with blue ribbon* happy fifth birthday, sweetheart

Kim:* opens the box and sees a necklace with a single pearl pendant that looks like the sun* it’s so pretty!! Thank you dad!

John:* takes the necklace and puts it on kim* it says something on the back to

Kim:* hugs john* thank you daddy!!

John:* hugs Kim back* your welcome sweetie

A week later

Angel: hay Kim we have a few people coming over in a couple weeks

Kim: really who?

Angel: a couple of people from my side of the family 

Kim: ok what day are they coming?

Angel: the 20th

Kim: ok mommy

March 20th

John: bye girls I’m going to work!

Kim: bye daddy!

Angel: bye dear

A couple hours later a group of guards show up at the linson house and knock on the door

Angel: she’s upstairs in her room

The guards run upstairs to Kim’s room and kick down the door….

End of chapter







[milady-pink]

Rosewood Manor

Summary: After discovering the truth about what is happening to the Manor’s residents, Christine seeks out Erik to ask some questions, but leaves with more than she started with; not to mention death claims another guest.

Warnings: death, drowning, murder, strangulation, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 3122 || Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Complete Series

AO3

——————————————————————————————————————————————-

Chapter 9

That was the first day Christine had a panic attack, and her second was in the morgue at Rosewood manor.

She sat on the cool stone floor, with the white tile on her back. Without realizing it, she scooted away from the table, the body, the dead body of Piangi that was very much real and not fake. Her breathing had taken a laborious toll, lungs hungry for air that hasn’t the flavor of death in it. Christine tried to calm herself down by looking up at the ceiling, trying to count her breaths, anything to distract from the fact that a dead body was in the same room as her.

The beach, think of the beach.

As she closed her eyes and tried to imagine a warm breeze filling her lungs, golden sand in her hands, warm water swaying over her feet. Eventually, Christine gets to twenty-five breaths by the time she has caught her breath. Carefully opening her eyes, knowing what to expect, she took in her surroundings again. This time the metal doors and white tile aren’t as scary. The steel table however, made her stomach churn. Cautiously standing up on shaken legs, she disposed of the gloves in a metal trash can, and walked right out of the hallway.

Back to the living.

Because of today’s brunch there was no lunch to be served, but a charcuterie board was made to appease the guests' hunger until dinner. Served on a rustic wooden platter were some slices of meats, cheeses from different parts of Europe, fruit, olives, nuts, and assorted crackers. Due to her discovery, Christine made a small pile of crackers to help her stomach, put off from eating anything for the foreseeable future.

Raoul waved her down to join himself and Jamie, sitting on some chairs placed in front of an elegant fireplace in a u shape. She sat down, placing her crackers on the equally formal coffee table in front of her, next to Raoul with Jamie on the far end. Her movements were slow, but her mind was frantic. What should I do? Who do I tell? Do I call the police? Will they believe me? So caught up in her onslaught of questions, she missed the one Raoul asked her.

“Christine?”

“Huh.” She snapped her head up.

“Uh, I asked if you were feeling okay. You look a little sick.” Both Raoul and Jamie had a look of concern for their teammate in their eyes.

“Oh, I’m fine. Just, th-the makeup was really good. Award worthy,” she answered with a weary smile. Raoul gave her one more look over before he continued asking Jamie details about the last known whereabouts. Christine barely listened; instead she made the decision to keep acting like this was all a game until she could talk to Raoul alone. She trusted him, he would know what to do.

For the rest of the afternoon the trio discussed how Piangi could have died. They came to a conclusion, after listening to what the others found at their location, and putting their minds together. Christine sat quietly, listening to her team, but when it came to her turn of detailing what she found, she froze. Taking a deep breath, she recalled what she found; the rope marks around his neck, and whiskey on his breath. Not a word was spoken about how it was a real body or how everyone remaining in the house sat in the hands of a serial killer.

“Alright, let’s go over the events before dinner. We really gotta nail this one.” Raoul ordered with a gentle but sure smile.

“Piangi sneaks into the wine cellar when everyone else is asleep. He discovers he was locked in after indulging a bit on the hard liquor.” Started Jamie, a shimmer of confidence in her eyes.

“Right, then that recording I told you about played, and informed Piangi the key is in one of the various bottles.” Raoul continued, looking to Christine for what comes next.

A deep breath. “After looking around, he found four bottles with keys. But, instead of drinking them, because he smelled of whiskey, he just pooped them down the drain in the corner.” She let go of the remaining air in her lungs, proud that she didn’t faint or throw up from the reminder.

“Yes, finally, after trying all four, he finds the correct key and leaves.”

“Only to be strangled in his room,” ended Jamie, “poor guy.”

Once they finished Christine remained silent and motionless, not knowing what to do and not wanting to scare anyone with her knowledge. Raoul thought everything sounded good, so he declared the meeting over, and promised to see them at dinner. Jamie left saying she was gonna drop red herrings to Sorelli and Andre about what was found in the morgue. Waiting until Jamie left earshot, Raoul leaned in to Christine.

“Hey, don’t worry,” he soothed, “we’re gonna get this one. I feel really good about what we found.

She looked up at him, the oceans in his eyes calm and sunny, reassuring her at once. “Raoul,” Christine began, “I have to tell you something.”

The oceans took on a scared look, making her want nothing but to be engulfed in his cologne in a hug. “Anything Chris, you can trust me.”

Taking what felt like the umpteenth deep breath of the day, she began to tell him what happened in the morgue. “Raoul, the deaths, they’re real. Piangi is really dead.”

At first he lost some of the concern in his eyes. “Christine, it’s just makeup, I’m sure he’s fine.” This made her slightly angry, that he didn’t believe her and simply brushed aside her words.

“No, Raoul, he’s really dead. So are the others,” she urged, “someone is killing us off one by one, like it’s a game.” Then she went into how she knew, without a doubt, about her father and the deathly chill that haunts her dreams. For a long time he simply stared at her, a sudden realization hitting his face, that she was telling the truth. For a while he stared at the floor, before speaking with a sure voice that gave Christine a sense of ease.

“Okay, this is what we’ll do; we have to expose him before he gets to us, beat him at his own game.” She gave him a skeptical look so he continued. “I’ll keep my eyes peeled for any suspicious behavior, just to make you feel better, okay?”

Christine thought for a moment before reluctantly agreeing to the plan, with only one question in mind. “But Raoul, who is ‘he’?”

He gave her an incredulous look like it was obvious. “That butler, clearly.”

By the time dinner was served, Christine Daae was a royal mess. She was jittery, anxiety pouring out of every pore of her body; not that many people noticed. For the most part she kept her cool, the only obvious sign that she wasn’t alright was her unusual silence. Christine was never much of a chatterbox, but her ill-fated discovery has made her retreat to her mind, trying to come up with a plan for survival.

Ever since she was a young girl Papa Daae installed in his daughter the drive and tools of survival in the modern age. He taught her how to count and save money, teaching the more complex terms like “direct deposit”, “compound interest”, and “annual percentage rate” when she got older. This drive stemmed from the fact that since her birth, the two Daae’s never had much money and what little they did own had to be spent wisely. Gustave prided himself on being very good at the sport of saving, mostly because Christine had a wonderful childhood even without some of the material goods; they learned to cherish memories and handmade goods rather than store-bought ones. So what if she never went to Disneyland as a kid, she got to stay at a half-off beach cabin in the winter because no one wants to stay there when it’s freezing outside. Except for the DeChagny’s whose holiday party theme was “Christmas on the beach”. Even when she grew up and discovered why her father took her to the winter beach most years, those memories have stayed with her forever.

Apparently, the need to survive financially also crosses the threshold of surviving a mass murderer.

Finally given a break from her worrisome thoughts, a plate was placed down in front of her. She remembers vaguely hearing something about spinach and feta stuffed chicken with a garden salad on the side. Her stomach rumbled, reminding Christine that she hasn’t fed it since lunch; which consisted mainly of crackers. Eating ravenously, she had to remind herself to slow down or else suffer a stomach ache later. The herbs paired perfectly with the crispy skin of the chicken breast, and the salad dressing made Christine think it had to have been house-made.

Unfortunately, after dinner came the notecards, and the remembrance of what lay in the morgue; just beneath their feet. For the life of her Christine couldn’t put to words what Jamie and Raoul recapped earlier. Starting to feel a migraine coming on, she tried her best at articulating what she meant to say. Even if it was an oral exam she would fail, putting too much pressure on herself by being reminded that the outcome of a bad score was her life.

For better or for worse, the note cards were collected, and put Christine out of her misery. Once again, the knife, the letter, and Erik’s soothing voice all made an appearance afterwards.

“Poor piggy Piangi. As if it wasn’t already obvious, the big boy quite enjoyed the finer foods, and drinks, of life. Too bad that was what eventually led to his demise. It was by chance that the previous night he asked dear Erik where the Manor’s whiskey is stored. He’d gone too long without some hard drinking, champagne tasting like water to him.” Erik’s voice carries across the table like a cool summer breeze, when you need it most. But it seems Jamie is none too happy to be the recipient of that wind. I forgot to tell her about Erik’s involvement. Well, I’m pretty sure I’m in way deeper than you, girl.

“After waiting until nightfall, he made his way down to the cellars, and greeted some old friends along with new acquaintances. Once he had had his fill, not an easy task by any means, he tried to retreat back through the door from whence he came. Thankfully, I provided some valuable knowledge, using an old recorder to accomplish the job. I told the fat cat that his answer lies within the very same reason he was down there. By looking through some bottles, he finds four that are filled with wine, and keys.” The continuous harassment of Piangi and his body, even after his death, was really starting to irritate Christine.

“But, rather than indulge himself further, he pours the liquor down the drain in the corner of the room. Or rather he had not a taste, instead only a waste. With the proper key in hand, he opens the door and goes his happy way. That is, until he returns to his room only to be surprised with a noose around his pudgy neck. He met his end with a larger than life appetite, giving him a larger than life grave.”

When he finished Christine couldn’t have been bothered to look up the entire time; her gaze remained on the spot in front of her where her plate once was. She felt utterly numb, not the good kind, but the kind of numb that your body puts itself into to escape what is going on around you. Detached and scared, with a startling feeling of relief; no more bills, no more tears, seeing Papa again.

Stirring her from these thoughts was a hand on her shoulder. Looking up, two calming seas are what saves her from drowning. She also realized that most of the other guests had retired; save them two.

“Hey, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, kinda tired is all.” Lying to Raoul felt like kicking a puppy. Someone who genuinely cares about her wellbeing, and here she is lying to him.

“Well, I hope you sleep well tonight.” He squeezes her shoulder once for support, before starting to walk out of the dining room. Before he walks out the door, he turns half way back and says, “remember Christine, this is all a game.”

No it’s not, Raoul. Instead she gave him a tired smile while saying, “I know. I’ll try to remember that.” Not wanting to fight or try and convince him, feeling rather expired from the day.

Finally getting up from the table Christine makes her way to her room. But, before getting too far, she notices a black figure move near the front of the house. Decidingly, she listens to her gut and quickly walks down to confront him.

With his long legs, and swift stride, it isn’t until an impasse between a hallway and the library that Christine finally catches up to him.

“Erik,” she starts, “Jamie is really scared that she might be the next victim.” She didn’t know why she had said that. Technically it wasn’t a lie; she did notice the flaxen haired girl eat very little at dinner, and squirmed relentlessly while Erik disclosed Piangi’s death. But why not come right out with it; why not say these people are really dying and I’m terrified that I might be next.

Because she remembered Raoul’s words about him earlier.

Christine forgot how truly tall he was, from watching him at the end of the table he seemed less intimidating. But after stopping in his tracks, turning around to face her, and closing a bit of the distance between them, she felt uneasy. I should have brought Raoul with me—anyone.

“And what do you suppose I do with this information, Miss Daae?” Miss Daae? What happened to just Christine? He asked in such a way that sounded like he had no one to report to, no upper management. It might be her nerves but Christine also felt his voice took on an edgy tone, far from anything that would be considered conversational.

“I-I just thought you should know,” she explained. Then, without really knowing why, she disclosed to him her terrifying discovery. “Erik, they’re really dead. Piangi, all of them, it’s not makeup or a game.”

“I know” he states, as if everyone in the Manor was aware.

Feeling alarmed but not threatened, she asked in a pitiful voice, “isn’t there something you can do?”

Just like earlier outside the morgue, the visible side of his face takes on a look of deep sympathy. Perplexing, seeing as how Christine was fearful of him not moments ago. He opens his mouth, two thin barely pink lips, before closing again. After a thoughtful pause, he answers. “I’m afraid that you and the others are not the only ones being played in this game.” He gave her his amber gaze, molten gold with the setting sun, before taking off.

Leaving Christine staring after him, more questions than answers after speaking.

Sleep evaded the panic-stricken Christine that night. It was nearing midnight and her eyes were still open, albeit dry and bloodshot. Sitting up in bed, trying desperately to calm her mind as a war raged on. If she went to sleep, the killer could strike, easily entering her room; and she doubted very much that her screams would save her before it’s too late. On the other hand, she could stay up all night and risk being picked off because her fatigue has dulled her awareness.

Stay up, or go to sleep, that is the question.

In the end, she ends up going over to the window chair, picking up her book again letting her brain decide whether she falls asleep or not. Before getting too comfortable though, Christine saw a figure standing by the pool. Standing up to look closer, she notices they are wearing a long blue towel wrapped in a turban on top of their head. Illuminated by the glow from the water’s light, their outfit looked familiar, like something she saw not too long ago being worn by…

Sorelli

From where she stood, Christine watched Sorelli stand by the pool’s edge, before another dark figure appeared. Struck with terror, Christine ran from her spot by the window to her room's door. She sprints down the hallway to where Raoul said his room was, and starts to frantically knock on his door.

“What the devil is going on out here?”

Turning, Christine sees a disgruntled Andre wearing a striped sleeping robe. Without wasting too much time she simply says, “Sorelli”, before taking off down the main staircase.

By the time she got to the pool, it was too late.

Floating face down in the cool summer evening was Sorelli, dead.

Christine felt tears of frustration seep into her eyes, feeling accountable to what happened to her friendly colleague. She knew about the killings and couldn’t stop this one from happening; it was her fault the fire in Sorelli had been extinguished.

Hearing footsteps on the stonework patio, Christine turns her head to see some of her fellow residents of the Manor. Joining her by the poolside, Andre and Raoul took in the scene that lay before them. Raoul, still in his pajamas, trudged over to stand next to her.

“Was this why you were knocking on my door?” He asked with a sorrowful tone.

Christine nodded, then recounted to him that she saw her standing right there from her window. A solemn silence hovered over their heads, only to be interrupted by a distant voice.

“I just don’t get it,” he stated in an addled voice, “I swear I just saw her not an hour ago.”

“What in God’s name is going on?”

All three heads turn to see Sorelli, in the flesh, with a satin robe and her long dark hair braided down her back. Instead of anyone answering, all three faces contained unbridled shock; they were staring at a ghost, it was the only plausible explanation.

Still confused by what was going on, and unable to see the body floating in the pool, Sorelli asked another question. “Where’s Jamie?” Voicing that question made the three guests turn yet again towards the body. As if on cue by a movie director, the wind picked up causing the water to flow a bit, carrying with it the body's towel; revealing flaxen hair darkened by the chlorine.

Jamie was the fourth victim.

[kiarazuri]

Chapter 7: Eya

They’ve been in Crescent City for a few weeks, but Eya hasn’t really gone exploring aside from gathering intel—going to the library, the courthouse, the old folks’ homes, even to see one of the local covens, anywhere that information could be got—but he’s yet to really see Bonbon Street.     Until today.     He told AJ he wanted to check the parish archives one more time (he’s already checked them thrice) but really he just wants to check on JJ.     He needs to check on JJ.     … and see Lottie DuCiel for himself.     Ever since JJ’s confession last night, Eya’s had this weird feeling in his chest. Not necessarily a bad feeling more like… curiosity. A vexing curiosity that won’t let his brain have a single ounce of peace. So, just like a cat, Eya’s pretty sure this emotion’s gonna kill him if he doesn’t satisfy it.     Bonbon Street’s gated entrance is made of intricate, almost lace-like wrought ironwork with its name written out in a beautiful calligraphic script on top. The street itself is lined with yellow brick, a bright, happy—unsuspecting—color that works well with the multitude of tall, almost row house looking storefronts in gorgeously raucous colors. Everything is built to catch the eye—and distract from the factory around you.     Don’t forget where you are, Eya reminds himself.     Chora caws to let Eya know she’s overhead just as he opens the Cakerie door, the sound almost drowned out by the bell above the door-frame. The witch doesn’t glance at his familiar, too aware of being in other supernaturals’ territory—no doubt the DuCiels have noted his presence and have eyes on him already—but he does give a flick of magic when he lets go of the door to let her know he’s heard her.     Stepping inside the Cakerie is like walking into a dream.     How’d JJ resist for so long? The man could be swayed by a single crumb and this place is like stepping directly into A Cheesecake Factory itself.     “Bienvenu!” A voice calls out. When Eya looks he sees someone he’s pretty sure is Brûlée DuCiel (one of Lottie’s younger sisters) behind the counter, smiling brightly as they hand a customer their change. The customer leaves as Eya steps forward and Lée gives him her full attention. This is the first time Eya’s seen a DuCiel up close—and he knows immediately that they’re not human. There’s a slight layer of glamour shimmering around her like a halo, invisible to mundanes but easy for the witch to see. He doesn’t know if the affect is purposeful or not though. Some supernaturals have invisible glamour, some have visible glamour, and some can choose, so it doesn’t actually narrow the list at all. Neither does the slight glimmer in her eyes or the hint of fangs that shows when she smiles.     Leche.     “What can I getcha, monsorcier?”     Eya jolts and looks around instinctively, worried someone may have overheard her.     She smiles knowingly at him.     Definitely had eyes on me, he smiles warily back at her before glancing down into the display case.     And taking a terrified step back.     It’s like a charcuterie board of cakes in there. More flavors than Eya’s ever seen in one place before—maybe in his life.     “What… what do you have?” He asks worriedly.     Lée laughs. “We’ve got everything. Literally.” She begins pointing to slices inside the case: “carrot, apple, maple, mushroom, seaweed, avocado, grape, coconut, pineapple, peach, potato,—” on and on till Eya’s head hurts.     “Uhm,” Eya rakes his brain. “Got anything with young coconut?”     Lée hums thoughtfully for a moment before pointing to something a little out of Eya’s line-of-sight. The witch has to take a step over and lean forward to see what they’re pointing at. The cupcake looks like normal coconut cake with green sugar-dusted gulaman squares decorating the top.     Interesting.     “Unfortunately we only have the buko pandan cake in cup form since not many people buy it,” she explains.     “I’ll take one,” Eya announces, returning to his original spot. “I’d also like this—is it a raspberry cheesecake cupcake?” He asks, pointing to one with a slightly pink hue and a candied raspberry on top.     The DuCiel nods. “Sure is. You want them for here or to-go?”     “Here, please.”     Eya also orders an orange creamsicle soda to go with his cupcakes, which he’s given on a beautifully ornate ceramic plate, before turning around to find a seat.     And JJ.     Where is he? Even with so many people, Eya shouldn’t have a problem finding his husband. The Cakerie is filled and bustling but the amount of people isn’t overwhelming. As many as there are, every time someone new arrives it’s like the room gets a little bigger to accommodate them.     Spatial magic, really smooth spatial magic at that, which is a hard type to master.     Even with that to make things easier though, he still can’t find JJ.     Unless he left the Cakerie with Lottie DuCiel—which he wouldn’t have done without telling me,—JJ has to be here somewhere.     Right?     Where are you?     Eya looks at the cafe tables again, and the booths, and the bar, and—wait.     There’s a portion of the bar that’s out of his vision. It’s like, no matter how he turns his head, his eyes refuse to register the area. There’s a tickle of awareness on that side of his head too, like his magic is acknowledging another’s and choosing to respect it.     There.     He sits a few stools away from the blind spot, keeping it in the corner of his eye as best he can.     Across the counter from his seat is a wall filled with pictures, awards, and artwork, melded together into one giant mural. Somehow the three very different things flow together into one coherent piece of art that Eya finds himself looking over thoughtfully. Every line is delicate, the colors bright and charming, and definitely influenced by magic.     Eya’s trying to understand how a picture of Bonbon Street could seamlessly flow into a painting of an orchard when he takes a bite of his buko pandan cupcake—     And moans at the delicacy.     Oh my gods, its incredible. Soft, sweet, and reminding him desperately of home. They’ve been on the road for almost a year and with one taste he knows that’s a mistake.     Gotta text Ryder for his buko pandan recipe, immediately, Eya’s little brother always made the best. I should text him anyway. It’s been a while, so he does, pulling his phone out and sending a quick text.      Eya doesn’t get a reply and he’s almost done with his cupcakes and drink by the time there’s movement out of the corner of his eye. He resists the urge to look immediately, taking another bite before fake-leisurely glancing over. The magic that’d been preventing him from seeing the end of the bar has lifted—and JJ is just beginning to stand to take his leave.     He turns towards Eya as he does and there’s a glint of surprise when he sees him sitting so close by. He hides it with a respectful nod like one would give a stranger (which Eya returns) before walking away. On the other side of the bar, waving goodbye to Eya’s husband, is Lottie DuCiel. When the bell rings, signaling JJ’s exit, he looks at Eya and—     Holy shit.     If Lée’s glamour looked like a halo, Lottie’s looks he’s got a whole sun behind his back.     Now that he’s seen Lottie for himself—     He understands what JJ meant about the pull.     It’s like the warmth of a fire on a cold night, urging you forward into its embrace. The pull is just as contradictory as the flames would be; being both a means of survival and a means to an end. If they’re not careful, both JJ and Eya will get burned.     Lottie steps up to Eya with a wide smile before glancing down at the witch’s empty plate. “How’d that treatcha, Cher?” He asks, his voice like melted chocolate, warm and sweet and delicious.     Eya swallows. “It was delicious. I’ve never had anything like it.”     When Lottie smiles, Eya wants to get down on his knees and just… lay his head in his lap and let the man pet him.     Uh oh.     “That’s good to hear, want me to take these for ya?” He asks, tapping the edge of Eya’s empty glass.     Eya jerks out of his trance bodily, much to Lottie’s amusement, and stutters: “Y-yes, please!”     “Sure, Cher,” Lottie grabs his tableware and disappears it beneath the counter. He opens his mouth to say something else when Lée and another DuCiel call for him from the other side of the room. He glances at them and gives them a “one minute” gesture before turning back to Eya. “I haven’t seen you around before, hope you liked it enough to come back some time,” He announces, his smile widening and sharpening strategically. “Could always use new blood around here,” he adds—and leaves.      “Y-yes,” Eya stutters after him, lost for words.      The DuCiels really have no qualms with calling other supernaturals out. It’s both refreshing and terrifying.      Eya leaves Bonbon Street with his head a confusing mess. He makes it a street over before a hand grips his arm and pulls him down a (thankfully clean) side-alley.      JJ’s stares at him like he’s grown a second head—which would be an incredible feat since Eya has zero shape-shifting capabilities—and waits in silence for Eya to explain himself.      Instead of an explanation, what comes out of his mouth is: “I may have a crush on Lottie DuCiel.”     JJ blinks. His lip twitches in an almost smile. Then frowns, pouts, and takes a deep, steadying breath before releasing it in a drawn out “shiiiit.” He rubs at the bridge of his nose in defeat. “Yeah, me too. I have another date with him tomorrow morning.”     Eya nods a sting of jealousy in his chest. The emotion feels like a child throwing a tantrum because they don’t understand what fairness actually is.     Eya’s inner child, whining: How come JJ’s gotten two dates and I haven’t even gotten one?      Adult Eya: Well Little Eya, that’s because Lottie hasn’t asked you on a date.     “Did you learn anything?” He asks JJ to distract himself from the childish emotion.      JJ shakes his head. “I don’t think Lottie has anything to do with the murders. And no, I don’t have my evidence to back that up.”      Eya understands, and agrees.      “Same. When I talked to Lée and Lottie I didn’t sense anything…” Glamours can tell you a lot about a supernatural, and neither of theirs screamed danger but it was more than that. Eya tries to put the instinct into words. “Malicious? At least… nothing serial killer-y. Gods, we’re gonna need more than that to convince AJ.” He sighs.      “Yeah,” JJ agrees. They stand in silence for a moment, both deep in thought, before JJ takes another deep breath—      And wraps his arms around Eya’s waist, leaning his back against the wall. Their chests meet and Eya’s arms come up to wrap around his neck automatically.      JJ rests his forehead against Eya’s.      “You really like him too?” He asks, a soft, curious expression in his eyes.     Eya nods, and nuzzles his nose against JJ’s. “He was gorgeous, and you were right about the pull. I don’t know how to explain it.”      JJ closes his eyes and nuzzles him back. “Can I go on the date tomorrow?”     “Yes.”     “I love you.”     “I know,” I love you too.     JJ’s lips are soft and lush and taste like Eya’s favorite tamarind chili candy.

To Be Continued in Chapter 8 💗

[starshine-hockey-girl]

Love Drunk- Never Ever Have I- chapter eleven

Summary: Hooking up with Evie was supposed to be quick and meaningless for Sidney Crosby. Then the one night stand became a regular thing. Quickly he realized just how special Evie would turn out to be and how his future would be forever altered by the beauty who brought the spice into his life

Author's Note- This is just total fluff and SMUT. No point other than fluff and SMUT

@penstxgal1968 @fallinallincurls @princessphilly @newlibrary

Thursday, February 14th

Evie was head down, plowing through a catering proposal. She had a mysterious meeting suddenly appear on her calendar in ten minutes and she wanted to have a chance to prepare. "Kelly," she called through the open door, "What is this new meeting about? Do you have any more information? Why is it so damn long?"

Kelly walked into the office carrying a huge bouquet of flowers and placed them on Evie's table. She silently handed the card to her-

This hunt is full of clues and surprises for you

Search for your next hint where you'd get your favorite cold brew

I can't wait to see you-Beso

Evie read the card, looked up and then back at the card. "Kelly, I can't do this. I have a meeting in five minutes."

"Check the invite," Kelly chuckled.

Evie checked her calendar and looked at the invite. It read, "New prospective wedding client- Mr. Cole Harbour."

Evie picked up her phone and dialed Sidney.

Sidney- Evie Rose- How are you this fine morning?

Evie- how did you manage to get a four hour meeting on my calendar? What was the name again? Mr. Harbour?

Sidney- Ask your assistant. She is very easily bribed with Penguin tickets. It's a good thing I know a guy.

Evie- So this is some sort of treasure hunt?

Sidney- I knew that you were a smart girl in addition to beautiful

Evie- Are you at the end of this hunt?

Sidney- Maybe, Maybe Not

Evie- If I am not going to be guaranteed Beso kisses, I am not playing

Sidney- Fine- I am one of her prizes at the end of the hunt.

Evie- Prepared to be found, Mr. Harbour.

Sidney-I would not expect anything less

Evie- Beso…

Sidney- Yes

Evie- Thanks for the flowers. You really didn't need to send me flowers to my house, your house and work.

Sidney- I told you to expect to be spoiled so don't act like I didn't warn you

Evie- Beso?-

Sidney- Yes, my love

Evie- You are the best boyfriend ever

Sidney-I have to match my girl's game. She has skills-unbelievable skills

Evie- let the hunt begin

Evie checked with Kelly again before heading down to the coffee bar. Marisol, the barista, greeted her with a grin. "Evie!" She called out, "Hot or cold?

"Cold," she replied as she reached for her wallet, "Did someone leave some sort of clue for me?

"Put your money away," she said, "A handsome man paid for you and left something for you." Marisol handed Evie a single red rose and card.

"He was here? A hot hockey player from Nova Scotia?" Evie asked as she looked around. "How long ago?" she quizzed.

"Yep, he stopped by about thirty minutes ago. He dropped the roses and opened the tab.

"A tab? Roses?” Evie looked saw several containers of long stemmed roses

Marisol finished Evie’s ice skinny vanilla latte and handed it to Evie. “Yeah, he started a tab. All of the female customers get their bill paid and a rose. I am supposed to say it’s because ‘Beso loves Evie’. Seriously Evie, you have been holding out on me. I want all the details Monday morning. Have fun!”

Evie opened the card.

"The next stop is the place is best for relaxing in more ways than one. Put on the fluffy robe and get ready to be pampered."

Evie walked into the serenity of the Fairmont Spa. Her phone dinged.

She approached the front desk, “Ummmm, is there some sort of card or gift for me? Evie?”

The receptionist smiled, “No card yet, but come with me. We are all set for you.”

Evie looked confused, “All set? All set to do what?”

She was guided to a small treatment room. In the corner of the dimly lit room, a small charcuterie board and bottle of sparkling moscato sat on a table with a card sitting beside it.

I hope you enjoy your fancy meat and cheese tray. Although I don’t think it can top the one in the back of the limo. Put on the fluffy robe and get ready to be pampered. Don’t get too tipsy. There is more fun to come!

Evie shook her head and sat down and took a selfie.

She finished her snack and leisurely drank two glass of wine before stripping and putting on the luxurious robe. She opened the door and poked her head out. The massage therapist waited patiently outside. “Oh, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you waiting,” Evie apologized.

“Ms. Montgomery, please don’t apologize. Today is all about pampering you,” the young woman replied. “You can get onto the table. I’ll be right in.”

Evie disrobed and slid under the sheet on her stomach. The massage therapist entered and dimmed the lights. The soft music played and Evie relaxed under the touch of the therapist’s hands. The ninety minute massage left Evie sleepy and she dozed on her stomach as the therapist left the room. She was snoring lightly when the door opened again. She woke up when she heard footsteps approach her. She felt the presence of a body squat at the head of the table and felt goosebumps lift on her skin. “Evie,” his warm, honey voice soothed, “time to wake up. There is more stuff for you to do.” She looked up into Sidney’s hazel eyes and smiled.

“Beso!” she cried before pushing up to kiss him, “Is it really you?”

“Yes, I couldn’t wait until the end. I had to see you sooner,” he said as he smiled and pushed her hair behind her ears, “Get dressed and meet me outside, okay?”

She did as instructed and opened the door. He stood there casually leaning against the wall. Evie took a sharp intake of breath and bit her lip as let her eyes linger on his muscular form. When she walked to him, he embraced her and pushed her against the wall. One arm wrapped around her back while his other hand went to her face. They smiled before they kissed like they were the only ones in the spa. “Okay, you have to go get your nails done now,” he said as he took her by the hand and guided her to the next location. He kissed her again before leaving her in the pedicure chair.

She called out to him, “What color should I get?”

“Whatever color you want, Evie,” he called back.

“I’ll be sure to get something that looks good when my hand is wrapped around your…..” she joked.

“Evie, be a good girl,” he shot back.

“But you like it better when I am naughty,” she laughed.

As the nail technician was putting the final touches on her metallic red pedicure, another technician arrived with a small box of chocolate truffles, room key and a note.

"The place I can have you all to myself for hours on end If the Penguins are the best. You know where, then let them try to make you even more beautiful than you already are. I don't think it's possible"

Evie stared at the note with a confused look on her face. She took a bite of the truffle as her toes dried. The room key confirmed that it was directing her to a room, but which one? She pulled out her phone and called Kelly.

“Evie- are you having fun?” her assistant answered.

“Yes,” she said quickly, “Can you do me a favor? Can you look into the system and see if we have a room reservation for Cole Harbour?”

“Sure- hold on,” Kelly answered, “Nope, nothing under Harbour or Crosby.”

“Thanks for checking,” she asked before she started at the note again. She read it slowly again. “Aha,” she exclaimed when she figured out the clue.

Evie took out her wallet to tip the technicians. “Mr. Harbour took care of everything. He was quite generous.”

“Well, thank you anyway,” she smiled as she gathered her things and walked to the exit. Evie walked into the suite- the Presidential Suite. The same as the President’s trophy the Penguins would receive for having the best regular season record in the NHL.

She walked in to find a make-up chair set-up by a large, expansive window in the suite. Next to the chair stood a petite redhead. “Ummm, hi?” Evie spoke as she walked towards her, “I assume that you are for me. I’m Evie.”

“Yes ma’am,” the hair and make-up artist, Rachel, answered, “I am here to do your hair and makeup for tonight. I hear it’s a special occasion. There is a robe in the bathroom. Go get undressed and remove your makeup”

When Evie returned wearing the robe, the make-up artist smiled. “Mr. Harbour was correct. You are a natural beauty.”

“Thank you,” Evlie blushed as she assumed her spot in the chair. “So what are we doing here? I don’t have any idea what comes after this surprise.”

The make-up artist leaned in conspiratorially, “Let me give you the note early.”

She handed the note to Evie.

What's a surprise without the matching attire? There are a couple of options from which you can choose. Surprise me, but I know you'll look like my princess either way.

Evie walked into the bedroom and opened the closet. Her eyes immediately went to the ball gown. It was a dress fit for a princess. If Sidney wanted a princess, then that’s what he was going to get. She picked up the navy sequined dress from the closet and laid it on the bed. She spotted Sidney’s suitcase and toiletry bag in the corner of the closet. Her stomach did a flip flop at the thought of him. She laughed to herself, "Evie, get yourself together," before she walked back into the living room. She sat in the chair, "Let's make me pretty. I have a date with Prince Charming."

She settled into the chair. She pulled out her phone and scrolled through her pictures of Sidney. She wistfully stared at each one for a minute. "We're all set," Rachel commented after put the final touches on Evie's lipstick. When Evie held the mirror up and stared at her reflection, she smiled. "He is going to love it," Rachel commented, "Now let's get you dressed."

Evie's hands shook slightly as she put on the diamond earrings. Rachel assisted with the sapphire necklace. They gave each other a quick hug before Rachel took some quick photos for her portfolio. Then she handed Evie the final card of the day.

"I can imagine our wedding day and our first dance together as husband and wife here in the GRANDEST of ways. Come join me"

Evie felt her ears fill with happy tears. Their wedding day- truthfully she hadn't thought much about the day she would marry Sidney even after their discussion last month. She knew immediately that he meant the Grand Ballroom- the same location as the Penguins Christmas party. For a moment an image flashed of Sidney waiting for her at the end of the aisle entered her mind.

Suddenly she felt her heart race and she moved quickly around the room. She put on her heels and grabbed the evening clutch. She walked quickly to the elevator and pressed the button. A young girl walked up with her parents and stood next to Evie. The curly haired beauty looked like the perfect combination of Sidney and Evie. Evie smiled and waved at her as the child gawked at her. She whispered to her mother, "Mommy, is that a princess?"

Evie squatted down to her eye level, "I am today. What's your name?"

"Caroline," the small beauty responded with a smile.

"Caroline, I am Evie. It's a pleasure to meet you," she smiled as the elevator dinged, "I have to go now. My prince is waiting for me."

Caroline gasped, "A real prince?

Evie grinned as she entered the elevator, "Well, he is MY prince, but not a prince in real life. He plays hockey in real life."

Caroline stared at Evie on the elevator ride. Evie adjusted her necklace and fidgeted with her ring. When they arrived at the lobby floor and exited, the child exclaimed, "Say hi to Prince Charming for me."

"I will," Evie laughed as she headed to the Ballroom. Evie turned around and pulled out her phone, "Miss Caroline, would you take a picture with me? I want to show my new friend to my prince." The tiny one ran to her as Evie handed her mom her phone and squatted down. "Say Prince Charming!" Evie grinned.

"May I have a hug, Princess Evie?" Caroline asked politely.

"Of course!" Evie exclaimed as they hugged.

In the ballroom, Sidney paced back and forth. He looked around the beautifully decorated room. He smiled and congratulated himself on roping Adriana in on helping him pull off the surprise.

THREE WEEKS EARLIER

Adriana: This is Adriana-How can I help you?

Sidney: Hey A, it's Sid

Adriana: Crosby?

Sidney: Funny. Are you busy? I need some help.

Adriana: Sure, what's up?

Sidney: Valentine’s Day is coming up soon

Adriana: Yeah?

Sidney: I want to make it special for Evie since it's our first.

Adriana grinned: Of course. What do you need?

Sidney: I am planning on doing a treasure hunt thing in the hotel. I need some help with the ballroom and stuff.

Adriana: What do you want for the Ballroom?

Sidney: A fairytale- food, dancing- make it look like whatever women like. Whatever Evie would like. Can you help? I'm lost.

Adriana: question- are you proposing?

Sidney: No, why?

Adriana: Oh Lord, I can just imagine how elaborate THAT will be

Sidney: I have a plan in mind for that. It's fairly simple. So are you in or out?

Adriana: Oh, I am in. I was in after the "I need help". Budget?

Sidney: I have no budget when it comes to Evie

Adriana: Good God, you are hooked

Sidney: Absolutely

He walked over to the small table for two and examined the place settings. He looked up expectantly when he heard the door open. Evie tentatively entered the dimly lit ballroom. Her jaw dropped as she stepped inside. Hundreds of candles were spread around the room. Twinkling lights were suspended from the ceiling. Upright lights cast shadows on the wall and a small pin light projected a soft romantic glow on the table. Large floral arrangements banked the stage and dance floor. Evie struggled to take it all in, then turned and met eyes with Sidney.

Sidney mentally told himself to breathe as she turned to him. Her hair was pulled back simply and without adornment. Her minimal makeup allowed her natural beauty to shine. The pop of red lipstick made her mouth look delicious. Sidney was sure that he had never seen her look more beautiful than this moment.

She took a small step toward her and the sequined ball gown sparkled in the low light. Sidney willed himself to speak but could not find the words. "There she is- my lady," floated to the top of his consciousness. The reality hit him like a two by four to the gut. Here she was in the flesh- his future wife and mother of his unborn children. Everything outside of hockey that he dreamed of having. It took every ounce of restraint not to run to her and get on bended knee. Damn, the logic and reason.

When she smiled at him, he dropped down in a crouched position and looked up at her. The tears of joy flowed freely and he wiped them without shame. Her head tilted slightly to the right and she held out her hand. Sidney pushed himself up and crossed to her. She smiled and he wrapped himself around her. "Oh are you okay, my Beso? she asked.

He squeezed her tight and didn't speak. When he finally let her go, he took a deep breath. "Sorry, you left me literally speechless- completely dumbstruck," he spoke softly. "I have been thinking of this moment since I started planning your surprise and you blew it out of the water," he laughed. "I didn't think I would get so emotional," he sighed.

"You okay now? I think it may be my turn to get emotional. The last clue did me in, Sidney. Look at you in that tuxedo-dressed like my groom," she gushed. "I can't wait to walk down the aisle to you," she assured.

"I may be an emotional mess," he teased.

"I'll bring the tissues," she teased back.

"You're beautiful," he gushed.

"She did a good job, huh?" she asked.

"Hard to improve over perfection," he smiled, "You like the dress? I did well picking it out?"

She did a twirl and the dress sparkled as she moved, "It's gorgeous. I love it. Do I get to keep it or does it go back with the jewelry?"

"You keep the dress, but the jewelry goes back. Sorry about that," he grabbed her hand and guided her to the table.

She sat down while he walked to the service door to let them know they were ready. As if by magic, music played softly. When Sidney sat down, a server arrived carrying a tray of appetizers and placed them on the table.

"How did you do this? You are so planning the wedding," Evie asked in amazement.

"I had help. Kelly helped with your schedule and getting the room/ballroom booked. Adriana set up the coffee kiosk and all of this," he confessed as he pointed around the room. "Taylor helped with the dress and makeup artist. I did the clues and the spa. It took a village to pull it off."

"A knew? She totally acted like she didn't when she texted earlier. I should have guessed with these appetizers. She didn’t say a thing- that sneaky bitch," she said as she munched on her bruschetta and caprese skewers. "Taylor helped too? Awww, that makes my heart happy. She picked dresses, but this was your favorite?"

"Yeah, she picked the dresses and other stuff," he said as the server cleared the table. Their cocktails were replaced with fresh ones. When they walked away, he grinned and said, "the lingerie was all me though."

"Lingerie?"

"Yes, it was a strapless chest thingy and g-string" he continued, "Didn't you find it?

"No"

"What are you wearing under the dress?

Evie arched her eyebrow and smiled.

Sidney's nostrils flared slightly, "Evie…."

"Yes, my Beso?"

"I have more planned, Evie. I can't be fantasizing about what is under that dress," he cautioned.

“What would that fantasy entail?” she giggled. "Sidney, it's like you don't know me at all. Would you even love me if I didn't tease you?" she responded in a singsong voice.

"Love is not what I am feeling right now," he groaned.

Evie reached over and placed her hand behind his head, "I am feeling love. I am feeling all the love. Kiss me and you will feel it too." He leaned across and kissed her softly. His tongue moved softly over her lips before slipping into her mouth. He moved his hand behind her neck and pulled her to him. They kissed slowly until Evie broke the kiss, "Feel the love now?" She purred.

"Definitely feeling something," he joked and started the kiss again.

"Now who is teasing?" She slid her hand onto his thigh as the servers placed the salads in front of them. Evie eyed her normally favorite salad and then Sidney. He began eating slowly and winked at her. She fought the urge to slid under the table and take him in her mouth. She moaned at the image and decided to file it away.

The next two courses were interspersed with kisses, conversations about the upcoming Stadium Series game weekend and his potential trip to Europe with Mike. They discussed what destination Evie wanted to visit the most. They tentatively settled on the Bavarian region in Germany. When the dessert course arrived, Evie groaned lightly, "I can't eat another bite."

"Are you sure?" Sidney pressed his lips together, "Adriana said it was your favorite."

Evie tilted her head, "Hey, it is my favorite. They can box it up and I can have it in the room. I am assuming that we are going back there."

“Yes, we are going to the suite-the suite with the very large bed,” he joked. "Okay, wait here- the rest of the surprise is almost ready," he smiled as he got up. Evie watched him walk to the service door and whisper instructions. He walked back to her and held out his hand, "Miss Evie Rose, would you do me the honor of dancing with me?" She put her hand into his and stood up. As they walked to the dance floor, a small band took to the stage.

Evie looked back at Sidney and brought her hand to her mouth, "A live band? You have a LIVE BAND just for me?"

"What did the clue say? I can imagine our first dance? So of course, I got you a live band." he smiled at her as he pulled her into the perfect dance frame.

The song https://open.spotify.com/track/4Hhv2vrOTy89HFRcjU3QOx?si=7b48f0b396f843b9

began and Sidney led Evie across the dance floor. "At last my love has come along, My lonely days are over, And life is like a song….." the band played. He put his lips to her ear and sang softly. Evie melted into his arms and they danced slowly. He led her around the dance floor. He whispered into her ear, “I think this is the song. It’s perfect for our first dance, right?” Evie nodded her head and smiled.

They danced to song after song. Sidney held her tight against his body and randomly kissed her shoulders. They floated on their cloud together.

“Ummm Beso, are there more surprises? I may be surprised out,” Evie smiled after an hour of dancing.

“One more in the room,” he kissed her temple.

“Can we go upstairs? Please?” she said softly.

“Is there something wrong?” he asked as he looked into her eyes.

“No,” she replied bashfully.

He saw the look in her eye, “Oh”

“Oh,” she repeated as her eyes searched his face before landing on his eyes.

“Let’s go,” he smiled and began to lead her out of the ballroom.

She stopped short, “Beso, I should take pictures. I want to remember how beautiful everything was. We should have taken pictures at dinner.”

“I took pictures of everything earlier and sent them to A,” he replied. “I will send them to you.”

“You literally think of everything, Sidney-everything,” she said softly, her voice cracking the tiniest bit.

“Is everything okay?” he asked tenderly as he kissed her forehead.

“Yes, my feet are starting to hurt,” she grimaced.

“Take off your shoes,” he commanded. She did as told with a confused look. He swept her up in his arms and cradled her against his chest. “Let’s go upstairs,” he grinned.

She curled her body into his chest and wrapped her arms around his neck. He carried her through the lobby, ignoring the stares of passersby. He knew that there would be pictures and tweets, but focused on his priority of getting Evie alone.

When he gently put her down and opened the suite door, Evie gasped, “Beso? Is this the same suite?” The room had been transformed with flowers and candles. She turned to him, "This- this is so much. You know that you didn't have to do ALL of this."

"You are my princess. Of course I had to do all of this," he smiled.

"Speaking of Princess, I am feeling very unprincess like right now," she eyed his crotch while walking towards him. "I am suddenly feeling very hungry," she said as she gently pushed him against the wall. She stared in his eyes as she reached for his belt buckle. "Do you have anything for me to eat? A lollipop or a sausage?" She teased as he hand slid into his pants. Sidney smirked as she crouched down on her knees while pulling his pants and boxers down. His semi-erect cock sprung out. She immediately took it in her hand and started sucking the tip. "I have been thinking of this all damn day," she said as her mouth released the tip. He moaned and leaned back against the wall. "Look at me, Beso," she demanded, "Look at your princess sucking you off."

He growled and placed his hands on top of her head. Her red lips moved up and down as she maintained eye contact. His breath hitched and his hips rocked slowly. Her ballgown pooled around her on the floor. He could just almost see down the front of her ballgown. The view was such a turn on for Sidney. His princess transformed into a wanton slut within seconds. The knowledge that this side of herself was reserved for him-and only him. She got a thriĺl out his pleasure.

She substituted her hand for her mouth. "Do you know the amount of self control it took to keep myself from doing this between dinner courses downstairs? To slide underneath the table, between your legs, and suck you until you exploded in my mouth," she moaned as she stroked him. He stared as she started sucking again. Her mouth fucked his cock hard and fast. His breathing became erratic and he grunted as he came in her mouth.

She smiled up at him as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Mmmmmy, yummy,' she gushed as she took his hand and stood up. He lifted her chin with his finger and kissed her gently. “That certainly hit the spot,” she joked.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered in his ear, “I noticed that rather large bathtub. Let’s take a bath. Do you want to take a relaxing bath with me?”

Sidney didn’t respond, but unzipped her dress. His fingers trailed down her bare back as the zipper went down. His hand trailed down lower and cupped her ass. He pulled her to his body, “Let me get it ready for us.”

“Sidney, you don’t have to,” she started to say.

“Evelyn Rose Montgomery- if you do not stop telling me to quit spoiling you like my damn princess, I am going to put you to bed without an orgasm,” he interjected as his eyes flashed a combination of amusement and desire.

She stepped back and let the dress slide off of her body on the floor. He picked up the dress as she stepped out of it and delicately placed it on the chair. “It’s not nice to threaten your girlfriend on Valentine’s Day, Beso,” she pouted as she put her hands on her hips. She went into the restroom and began using the makeup remover wipes Rachel had left. She deftly removed the bobby pins from her hair as Sidney filled the tub. She resisted the urge to wiggle suggestively as he leaned past her to grab his toothbrush.

They made eye contact in the mirror and Sidney smiled. She walked and sat on the edge of the tub. Her hand dipped into the water. Her eyes followed his naked body as he slid into the tub. Wordlessly she slid into the tub and placed her body between his legs. The low moan that escaped her lips as she settled back against his chest.

"Beso, would you really send me to bed without an orgsam? That's really not nice," she leaned her head back.

"Be a good girl then," he kissed her neck as his hands ran up and down her arms.

"I am always good for you, Beso," she sighed as his hand cupped her breast. He laughed softly. "Well, mainly good," she whined as he caressed her.

"Show me,” he whispered in her ear.

“Show you how?” she whimpered.

“Show me how good you can be,” he nipped at her ear, “I want to watch you cum.”

Evie pushed up and twisted at her waist to face him, “in here?” He nodded in affirmation. She turned completely and straddled his waist momentarily and kissed him. She rocked her hips against his crotch before sliding back to the other end of the tub. He licked his lips as she spread her legs. She maintained eye contact as she delicately lifted and placed a foot on either side of the tub. “Like the view?” she murmured as began touching herself. Her head tilted back as she explored her folds.

“Evie,” he growled, “Look at me.”

She bit her lip and made eye contact again. Her fingers worked feverishly and her body rocked. She brought her feet back down into the tub. She pressed them down as her hips rocked. The motion made small waves that lapped at Sidney’s chest. He brought his legs up and rested his elbows on his knees. His body leaned forward as he watched her intently. Evie’s moans transformed into grunts and sighs. Her body lifted off in the water as she brought herself closer to the edge. Her eyes stayed fixed on Sidney’s eyes but they began to fill with tears as she felt herself teetering on the edge. Sidney gripped the tub and pulled himself up. He positioned himself between her legs on his knees. His hands gripped the tub on either side and lowered his mouth to her ear, “Good Girl Evie. You’re my good girl.” His warm voice sent into the abyss and she screamed on the way down. Her body shook with pleasure and her head went beneath the surface. She re-emerged gasping for breath. He pulled her into his body and held her tight as she trembled. He rocked her softly as her breath returned to normal.

“Are you ready for the last surprise, Evie?” he whispered into her ear. She nodded as tightened his grip and lifted them out of the bathtub. He set her down gently and dried off her body. She sighed contently as he put the fluffy robe around her body before proceeding to the same. He led her to the bedroom, “Be right back. Are you hungry for your dessert? I can bring it to you.”

“No thank you, I will have it for breakfast,” she yawned. She took off her robe and climbed under the covers.

He walked back into the room, hiding a bag behind his back. She strained her neck to see it as he climbed onto the bed with a grin. “This is it- the last surprise for my princess.” He handed her the light blue Tiffany’s bag.

Her mouth dropped as she reached for the bag, “Beso”. She ripped into it and pulled out the small box.

She looked up at him and he held his finger to her lips. “Don’t forget what I said earlier.”

She grinned, “I mean I already had one orgasm. Did you mean from you? I can still get a Sidney orgasm?”

She opened the box and gasped. Inside the box, a diamond and platinum pendant in the shape of a key sparkled. She looked from the box to Sidney’s face and back to the box. He looked at her expectantly- suddenly needing her reassurance that he selected the right gift. “It’s the key to my heart,” he explained. “Do you like it?” he asked quietly.

https://www.tiffany.com/jewelry/necklaces-pendants/tiffany-victoria-key-pendant-GRP08649/

“I love it,” she whispered, “Put it on me.”

His large fingers fumbled with clasp as she moved her hair to the side. Her fingers touched it delicately before she leaned over to kiss him softly. "Sidney, thank you for today. It was like a fairy tale. You really made me feel like a real princess….” her voice trailed off. She took a deep breath, “I don’t know how I got so lucky. I’ll never know how I got so lucky.” He pulled her to him and wrapped himself around her body.

“Shhhh, I’m the lucky one,” he whispered, "I hope you enjoyed your surprises."

"I loved them all, but especially since they came from you," she replied as leaned against him.

“Beso, I didn’t give you your gift yet.” she gasped, “It’s at my house.”

“Give it to me tomorrow,” he rocked his hips into her before kissing her ear, “This is all the gift I need.”

“Beso, will you fuck me to sleep?”

“Thought you would never ask.”

[garbagevanfleet]

Brightest Blue (series)

PART TEN

Pairing: Josh x reader Warnings: THIS CHAPTER IS 18+ ONLY! sexual content (finally), pot use, alcohol use Summary:  Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place.

Notes: Okay, guys. If you missed it, this chapter is NSFW. This was the best to write, seriously. Love you all, don't be afraid to tell me what you think of it! 

taglist: @valleyd0ll​​ @satingrass-maidensfair​​ @guitarfingers​​ @thebohemianpenguin​​ @peaceisouranthem​​ @oblvions​​ @hansonobsessed​​ @myownparadise96​​ @lara-gvf​​ @anditsmywholeheart​​ @kill-fear-the-power-of-lies​​ @bigblack-catattack​​​ 

MASTERPOST 

Two weeks before the Saturday of the play, the forecast had called for a blizzard. “Polar vortex” they had called it on the tv at school, flashing graphics of a polar bear wearing a scarf. 

After classes on Friday, you had asked Kate if she wanted to go for coffee. You had been working like a dog on the play - sewing and painting to the point where your fingers perpetually hurt and the only thing you could see when you closed your eyes was the shade of green that every foliage prop was painted.

You ordered a caramel macchiato and genuinely tried to enjoy it, propping your legs up on the chair next to her. 

“So,” she started, eyeing you like she had a bone to pick. She still looked so pretty when she was coming for your life. “We’ve been so busy with Josh, we haven’t had any alone time to talk about Trevor.”

You sucked in a deep breath and relaxed your stiff neck muscles, achy from behind hunched over while sewing. “Yeah. I kind of forgot about it, to be honest.”

“I have not, however. So dish,” she requested, reaching into her purse and pulling out a tube of lipstick. She applied it carefully in her phone camera as you spoke. 

“Josh did it,” you admitted, making her eyes flick over to you momentarily. “I mean, I still slapped him, but Josh was the one that gave him a black eye.”

“And how do you feel about that?” she asked carefully.

You shrugged, wrapping your fingers tightly around your cup, half to leech the heat, and half because you were anxious. “I don’t know. I was kind of upset, but only because he could have gotten kicked out of school for that.”

She just nodded for you to continue as she cleaned up the lines around her lips with a paper napkin. 

“I mean, and for what? He could have been arrested. Just for revenge. I feel like the best revenge would be just be keeping your head high.” You rolled your eyes at the beginning of your statement, just for emphasis. 

She stared at you blankly as she picked up her mug. “Aren’t you flattered? I wish a guy would punch one of my hookups.” 

“I mean, it’s cute, but I feel like he did it more for himself - for his own pride, you know?”

Her expression changed then to something a little heavier, her features sharpening in accusation. “Are you for real? Like, for real, for real?”

You frowned at her, feeling like you were being scolded. “What are you talking about?”

She let out a long breath, looking dumbstruck. “I haven’t really pressed it because I guess I just thought it was something that everyone knew but wasn’t talking about but-” She paused, putting her hand over yours on the table just to really drive the point home. 

“That boy has it bad for you.”

You knew your expression was ridiculous by the way she looked at you with pity. “What the hell are you talking about? Josh? Are we talking about Josh?”

She closed her eyes, pursed her lips, and nodded. 

“Kiszka?” you tried again, still refusing to let her statement sink in. 

“Yes,” she said through a laugh. “Yes, your roommate Josh. Curly hair, hippy bullshit - that guy. I swear to God I thought you knew. I mean, there were times when I was like ‘does she actually know?’ but then I thought ‘there’s no way she lives with him and doesn’t know that’. You’re telling me I was wrong?”

You were struck silent for a few long moments. “Are you sure?”

Thankfully, she was looking at you like you were a puppy with its head stuck in a peanut butter jar. “Look at me. He punched a guy in the face for you.”

You closed your eyes and tried to suppress a smile. “I don’t know.”

“Okay. There’s supposed to be a huge snowstorm this weekend. Now that you’ve heard me say it, return to me on Monday - after spending all weekend in the same place as him - and tell me you don’t see it then,” she said simply. 

“Okay, I will,” you challenged. 

“Okay, you do that,” she quipped with a smirk, leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms over her chest confidently. 

+++

In preparation, you had gone grocery shopping together, picking out everything you’d need to be stuck in the apartment together. He had even made you take him to a thrift store, just so he could see if there was anything fun. In the end, he had come out with a card game in a box, still wrapped. 

Saturday morning the snow started falling, this time in huge, fluffy flakes, and it wasn’t supposed to stop until Monday evening. 

While Josh was in the shower, you decided to get everything ready for the evening’s festivities that you had planned together. You had gone to find a good cheese board at the market until you found out they were too pricey for your (nearly nonexistent) budget, so you ended up laying out different crackers and cheeses onto a circular pizza pan. 

By the time he got out of the shower, you had grapes, pickles, olives, and chocolates laid out on the coffee table, and he caught you just as you were pouring each of you a glass of wine. 

The charcuterie was his idea - actually, the first thing he suggested when you said you wanted to have a fun night in on Saturday. The three different kinds of alcohol had been your idea.

“Okay, it’s all yours,” he informed as he trotted out from his bedroom, dressed in a fresh set of clothes. 

The shower was still warmed up, the mirror still steamy. You got a towel out and stepped in under the spray. 

You took the time to enjoy washing and conditioning your hair - your mom had been sweet enough to send you some of the expensive kind you love. Once you had hinted over the phone that you were homesick and the smell of it reminded you of home, she was already googling it. 

Once you felt sufficiently clean, you stepped out and dried off. The clothes you had taken into the bathroom weren’t anything special - you had chosen comfort over aesthetic - but they were warm, which is what you really needed as the snow fell outside. 

When you joined him back in the living room, Josh was waiting patiently on the couch.

“Ready?” he asked, handing you your glass of wine. 

“You didn’t have to wait for me.” You gestured down at the untouched food. 

He smiled at you. “I know.” 

You sipped at your drink as he gestured to the tv. 

“Movie for background noise?”

You hummed in thought. “Maybe music?” 

He nodded in agreement. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Whatever you pick will be perfect.”

By the time he had made a selection, you had nearly finished your glass of wine. “So, the costumes are coming along well. I got the cutest lace for the trimmings of Alice’s dress. I’m not sure you’ll even be able to see it from the audience, but she’ll look adorable in pre and post-performance pictures.”

He shot you a beaming smile. “That’s some master craft. Your attention to detail is unrivaled.”

You knew that he was just playing, but it still made your stomach flip.

“Should we play our card game?” he suggested, padding over to the kitchen and snatching the bottle of wine off the counter.

You watched his movements as he poured your glass full again. “Thank you. Yeah, we can. Or did you want to be drunker first?”

He hummed. “One shot each?” 

“Of vodka?” you inquired as you picked yourself off of the couch. “Where are the shot glasses?” 

“I don’t think I own any,” he admitted as he watched you rifle through the cupboards. 

You shot him a shocked look. “You’re a college kid; why would you not own a shot glass?”

“Well, we haven’t needed it thus far. I don’t throw a lot of parties if you haven’t noticed.” He gestured around the empty room. “We’ll each just take a pull from the bottle?”

“Okay, you first,” you agreed, thrusting the bottle at his chest. He took it from your grasp with a smirk and then pressed his lips to the rim. He drank until the count of three before swallowing hard and passing it along. 

You followed suit, except with more difficulty. He had made it look so easy, you had almost forgotten how vodka tasted. You swiped your thumb across your lips, wiping them dry in the process. 

You took your seats back on the couch next to each other as the music played through the room. 

“Charcuterie?” you offered, gesturing to the coffee table full of food. 

“Yes, of course.”

As you watched him make a cracker sandwich, you spoke. “So, should we crack this game open?”

After he nodded excitedly, you ripped into the plastic wrap. 

“Okay, it looks like it’s essentially just a questions game. We just draw one at a time and the other person answers them,” you explained after skimming the inside of the box. “And you have to finish your drink if you can’t answer it.”

He laughed. “Okay, ladies first. I’m ready.”

You pushed the stack of cards over at him. “No way, you ask me first,” you stated with a cheeky smile.

He raised his eyebrows at you but relented. As he plucked a card from the deck, he took a sip of wine.

“What is your favorite color?” he asked, leaning in and squinting like the information you were about to provide was essential to his existence. 

You snorted. “Really?” He nodded, prompting you to continue. You hummed as you thought about it. “It’s blue.”

“What kind of blue? Like navy or sky?”

You shook your head. “No, more like that blue that’s so blue it hurts your eyes. The one that was a new pigment discovered not that long ago - so bright it hurts.”

He gave you a sincere smile.  “That’s a good pick.”

“What’s yours?” 

“That’s not how this game works,” he said through a breathy laugh. 

You frowned at him. “Yeah, well. Then I’m asking you as a friend. Josh, what is your favorite color?”

He pursed his lips as he considered his answer. “It’s hard for me to pick, but maybe either red or orange.”

You nodded in agreement as you reached for the deck. “I could see that. Okay, your turn.”

You stared at the card in your hand that read, WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU SLEPT WITH?

“Are you alright?”

You snapped your eyes up to him, quickly nodding as you realized that he had been waiting patiently for you to read it. 

“Okay,” he agreed cautiously. “That’s good. What’s the question?”

You couldn’t suppress an awkward smile as a heat rose to your face. 

“It says, ‘who is the last person you slept with?’,” you informed in a humored tone. You even held it up for him to see.

He stared at the card like it just accused him of a heinous act. “You really got to answer the color question and I have to answer this?”

His intensity made you snort a laugh, though you were trying to hold yourself together so you didn’t spill your wine. “Okay, okay. I’ll answer it too. Maybe we can play the game where we both just answer it.”

“Do you just want to hear me talk about sex?” he prompted with a shit-eating grin. 

You gave him a disbelieving look. “Are you- You’re the one that picked this game out!”

Your overreaction was clearly exactly what he had been looking for. You were anticipating his ribbing to continue, but it didn’t. 

“The last person I had sex with,” he started, pressing his lips against the rim of his glass as he took a swig. “Was from my music theory class.”

“When?” you quickly asked, shocking even yourself.

 “Is that part of the question?” he teased smugly, picking a kalamata olive off of the tray and piercing it with his finger before popping it in his mouth. 

You licked your lips nervously. “No, it isn’t,” you admitted. “You don’t have to answer that, I was just curious.”

“You wanna get high?” 

He was staring directly into your eyes when you looked up at him again. 

“I feel like it’ll make it easier to answer these.”

You nodded at him, biting your bottom lip. “Yes. Yes, I do want to.” 

“My room?” he asked, picking up both of your glasses as he stood. 

“Your room,” you confirmed, following suit. 

Through the slats in his blinds, you could see that the ground was completely covered in a white blanket of snow. You spent some time watching it fall from his bed as he packed a bowl. 

“Here,” he said gently to get your attention. “You take the first hit. I’m going to light it and you’re going to suck in and hold it in.”

You nodded in understanding. 

“Not too much though,” he warned. 

The glass was cool in your hands as you took it from him. When he held the flame to it, you did as you were told before exhaling with care. He was looking at you with a proud expression when you met his eyes. 

You handed it back over to him, waiting until he was in the process of taking a hit before you spoke. 

“Tell me when you slept with her,” you demanded calmly, biting back a smirk at the way his breathing faltered. 

It had turned into a game of chicken as you held each other’s gazes silently. 

“You haven’t even answered the required question yet and you want me to do the extra credit?” he quipped. 

“The last person I fucked was a guy from tinder back home, and it happened a couple of months before I left,” you informed him confidently. “I’ve only ever had one boyfriend, and he was a prick, so when we broke up, I went on a tinder bender just to feel something.”

A small smile spread across his pink lips as he listened. 

“Now you.”

“She was my girlfriend last year. We broke up in April and I had a hard time saying no to late-night texts until the end of June.” His tone was sincere as far as you could tell, as were his eyes. 

You were starting to feel the hit you’d taken by then, and you took a pause from the conversation to lean over the side of his bed and grab the bag of suckers you knew was waiting there for this very occasion. 

The high washed over you in a gentle, pleasant manner, leaving you feeling a little dreamy. 

“Sucker?” you asked, holding the bag open for him. He breathed a laugh - probably at you offering him his own candy - and then plucked one from the bag. 

After he had it unwrapped, he held the bowl out to you again. “Want another? Or am I going to have to smoke the rest of this myself?”

“Yes, I’m sure that would be very rough on you, poor baby,” you teased. 

He huffed a laugh, sitting up a bit straighter in his position. “You want another one or not?”

You stared at him wordlessly for longer than was socially acceptable, but when you finally spoke, it was with conviction. “I’ll have another baby hit.” You pulled the cards from the pocket of your pajama pants. “But then we’re playing another card, right?.”

He glanced down at the bowl and then back up to you. “When you say ‘baby hit’-”

“I mean I want you to blow it into my mouth with your mouth,” you explained cheekily, making him huff a laugh. 

“You liked that, huh?” he asked, risking a dark glance up at you through his long lashes as his fingers played along the glass piece. 

You knew exactly what you wanted to say - could hear it in your head, but your body felt tight with nerves at the thought of actually saying it. “Not as much as you did, I’m guessing.”

Oh, damn, you said it. 

A smirk played across his mouth, his eyes half hooded. If you hadn’t been paying attention, you would have thought he was completely unaffected by your teasing, but you had been listening to his breathing, so you were perfectly aware when it changed slightly. It was just the smallest difference in sound like he was pulling in air through tighter lungs. 

“Be careful with what you’re accusing people of.” A warning, definitely, but almost more of a challenge. In the months that you’d spent with him, you’d never seen him like that, but you suppose you wouldn’t have unless- Unless you were about to make him do something truly reckless. 

You bit your bottom lip out of an anxious, excited energy. “Oh, my mistake then.”

The ball was in his court, and you could tell that he was expecting him to continue pressing him. A look of slight disappointment flashed behind his eyes, but you weren’t done yet. 

You nodded toward the bowl, prompting him to glance down at it like he had forgotten what he was doing in the game he was playing with you. He kept eye contact with you as he brought it to his mouth and lit it. You watched the white smoke circle the inside of the globe before he sucked it into his lungs. 

You tilted your chin up in invitation and tried to relax your muscles as he leaned in, his throat looking tight. 

You felt his nose brush yours first before you realized you had closed your eyes in anticipation. The smoky smell hit you first when you realized you were supposed to be taking it from him. You opened your eyes and tried to breathe it all in, but most of it was lost to the room. 

He had a tiny smirk playing on his features until you reached out and wrapped your hand around the back of his neck, pressing his forehead against yours in an abrupt motion. You could tell he had his teeth clenched by how tight his jaw looked. 

You couldn’t stop yourself from playing your fingers along the sharp line of it. 

“Do you want me?” you whispered, voice barely there at all. 

Through a labored breath, he responded with a smoky sounding, “What would give you that impression?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, but unsurprisingly, it came out sounding raw. Your fingers brushed across the short hair on the nape of his neck, the pleasant feeling causing his eyelids to flutter. 

You leaned forward until you pressed your cheekbone against his, lips right by his ear, and pointedly asked, “Do. You. Want. Me?”

“Fucking of course, I do,” he spat through clenched teeth, sounding distressed as his hands wrapped around your waist, thumbs pressed into your hipbones on either side. 

“Should we?” you asked, pulling back so you could see his face. 

“Probably not.” His words were humored, a melodic laugh accompanying them, but still somehow managed to not sound any less strained. 

You considered what he was saying for a moment, relishing in the idea that this was the last moment before the point of no return. “Just one hookup,” you reasoned. 

He smirked at you, looking all too smug and disbelieving. “Okay,” he agreed. 

Patiently, you waited for him to make the first move, your heartbeat bouncing around like a basketball in your chest. When you felt his hands move from your hips, your body tensed, trying to predict where they’d end up next. 

As he cupped your jaw with both hands, you melted a little, muscles noticeably relaxing. 

The kiss was tentative at first - just a brushing of his lips on yours like he was testing the waters. He held your face like he was afraid that you were going to vanish into thin air - like your presence was the key to his existence. 

You could hear his shallow breaths as he opened his mouth, pressing it against yours. His tongue tasted like the orange sucker he’d abandoned on its wrapper on top of the dresser next to his bed. You lapped at it, body rising as you shifted to crawl into his lap. With the way he was sitting, cross-legged on his bed straddling him was a bit of a strain on your inner thighs, but the feeling was oddly pleasing - like a warm-up for the workout you were about to endure. 

He let go of your face to place his hands back on your hips, pulling your body as close to his as it physically could be. Before he could situate you too firmly, you started to unbutton your pajama shirt, and bless his heart, he couldn’t help but watch your fingers work. 

“Is this really happening, or this just a super high fever dream?” he asked, shaking his head as he frowned like he wasn’t sure he could trust his eyes. 

You wanted to laugh at him, but you could hardly blame his disbelief. If someone had told you even earlier that week that you’d be in this position, you would have rolled your eyes at them. You hadn’t realized how much you wanted this until it was about to happen.

The last button undone, you let the garment fall, the pink and white striped fabric slipping off the bed and to the hardwood. 

The cool air was shocking on your bare skin at first, causing it to tighten - well, that and you could practically feel his eyes raking over your chest. 

“It’s happening,” you assured, leaning in until you were speaking against his parted lips. 

The feeling of him brushing the pads of his fingers over your nipple made your breathing shudder. When you tipped your head back, he ducked in and pressed his mouth to your throat, dragging a stripe across your skin with the flat of his tongue. Every part of your whole body felt hot, but none more than between your legs. You tried to grind yourself down on him, but couldn’t seem to get a good angle - luckily, he seemed to notice, and halted your movements with his hands on your hips, stretching his legs out straight.

He pulled back just far enough to see your face when he ground you down onto him, the outline of his cock slipping against your core. Even with all the layers between you, the feeling still made you crumble against him, a whine escaping your lips of its own volition. It was clear that he felt it too as he bit his lip, his eyes fluttering. 

You seized the opportunity to get your fingers under his shirt, lifting it over his head as he held his arms up for you. Before he could prepare for it, you pressed closer, pressing a kiss to his temple and then nipping at his earlobe. The cool metal of his earring was pleasing against your tongue, and you reveled in the moment as he sucked in a sharp, shocked breath. 

His hands snaked around your sides, palms wide as he cupped your ass and used the leverage to pull you against him again. Burying his nose in the crook of your neck, he let a shaky breath escape him.

You could feel his thumbs hook under the elastic band of your pajama bottoms as he started to slip them down the cleft of your ass. Once it was bare, he ran his fingers over it, movement stalling as he looked at you with an eyebrow raised. 

“Are you not wearing panties?”

You scoffed. “Not to bed, obviously. Are you implying that you wear something under those loose pants?”

The corners of his lips tilted up in a wicked smirk. “I encourage you to find out.”

You giggled at his confidence, sweetly nudging your forehead against his, so he didn’t expect the swift movement of your hand as you tugged the tie of his sweats down. The answer to your previous question was “no” - he hissed as you grabbed his erection, swiping your thumb across the head, glossy from the dim light through the blinds. It was just a tease though, because a split second later, you let go of it in favor of wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your mouth against his again. 

As you pressed him back, he tried to hold you, but once he realized you weren’t just leaning on him for support, he relented. You laid him back on his bed, pulling back as you slipped your bottoms off the rest of the way. 

“Jesus,” he breathed as his eyes took in the whole of your naked body above him. “Hang on.” 

He reached to the bedside table and grabbed the bowl and lighter. After he sucked in another hit and set the piece back down, he tugged you in roughly, depositing the smoke directly into your mouth. You tried to hold it in like he had taught you, but you were much more interested in getting your tongue into his mouth. 

Still, you were plenty high, so much so that looking down on his bare form had tears threatening your eyes. He looked so soft and sweet despite the position he was in, his eyes half-lidded and one hand behind his head, one on your bare hip. 

You shifted until you could grind your core against the length of him, the wetness letting it slip through easily. 

“Fuck.” You had thought it was an exclamation of pleasure until you opened your eyes and saw a scowl painted across his face. “I definitely don’t have a condom.”

You hummed through a smile. “I don’t blame you, I definitely didn’t expect this.”

He frowned up at you. “We can just try something else if you want,” he offered.

“Well, I’m on birth control, and given the length of time between our last sexual encounters, I’m guessing we’re both clean - I know I am.”

He stared at you for a long moment before really realizing what you were implying, but once he did, he licked his lips in consideration. 

“Come here.” You weren’t sure what he was requesting until he grabbed onto your thighs and guided you up until you were straddling his face. 

The thought of it made you blush, and surely your cheeks were hot to the touch. 

He started with broad strokes of his tongue, just dragging it through. You briefly wished he had a headboard for you to brace yourself on, but your thoughts quickly became completely incoherent. You decided you were going to lean back instead, placing your palms flat on his bent knees. When you were completely comfortable and situated, he started pointedly flicking his tongue against your clit directly, first very soft and teasing, but building to something rougher and more deliberate. 

You thought you were actually going to shake apart when he sucked your clit right into his mouth, rolling the bead of it around on the flat surface. When you could feel yourself getting close to the edge, you threaded your fingers through his curls, keeping him close. 

The moment you lost it, everything in the room melted away from you - just a black expanse with flicks of color littered throughout it. 

You took a moment to catch your breath, trying to bring yourself, at least partly, back to reality. When you pulled away from him, you were met with the sight of him - the entire bottom half of his face slick with your come. 

He only let you watch in fascination as it dripped from his chin for a second before he was pushing you back, your head laid at the foot of the bed. He slipped his sweats off the rest of the way before crawling over you. 

There was no way you could have blamed him as he pushed in, seemingly not having any time for a slow entrance - you did make him sit there, untouched, for god knows how long. You certainly couldn’t name even a rough estimate for the amount of time passed. 

The spark of pleasure that shot through you made you throw your head back, your spine arching as you let out a whine. 

“I’m sorry, are you okay?” he breathed, through tight teeth.

“Yes,” you hissed as you ground yourself down onto him. “Keep going.”

Your eyes were closed, but you were sure he was wearing an awed expression. You grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him in until your foreheads were pressed together. When he started to move his hips, you let out a long, pleased hum, pressing your nails into the skin on his shoulders. 

Your whole lower half was still incredibly sensitive, so every time he brushed you, it made you writhe a bit beneath him. “Mm, fuck,” you growled as he intentionally reached down and pressed his thumb into your clit, the feeling resting somewhere between “just perfect” and “way too much”.  

He was biting his lip as he watched your reaction intently. You felt his hand snake down your outer thigh, gripping it from the bottom. He lifted it up, near-forcing you to wrap it around his hip.

The new angle was a different kind of feeling - something hot deeper in your gut like someone placed a smoldering ember in your belly.  You weren’t paying attention to anything but your own impending orgasm, so you didn’t expect it when he sucked your nipple into his mouth. He raked his teeth over the bud, causing your hips to jerk against him. 

When you opened your eyes and met his, you took a moment to absorb his expression - like he was seeing another dimension through your face. 

You could tell he was close when his lips fell open, but that was perfect because he was taking you with him. You hitched your legs around his hips and squeezed, letting your head tip back. 

When you came a second time, it was with his open mouth pressed to your throat, his hot breath hitting your damp skin. You let out a low whine, fingers tangled in his hair, probably a little too tight.

You suspected it was probably your muscles clenching in orgasm around him that set him off, a string of expletives falling from his kiss-swollen lips. His hips shuddered as he fucked you through it. 

The other side of your collective climax was warm and fuzzy, like watching home videos from the ‘60s. When he was able to hold himself all the way up, you ran your fingers through his damp curls affectionately. 

He was clearly trying to get his bearings, his breath flowing in and out of him like a tide. 

“Are you okay?” he whispered, sounding like he might not be able to speak any louder than he currently was if he wanted to.

 You hummed through a smile. “So good, Maybe never better.”

He rubbed his nose against yours, the smallest hint of an upward tilt to his lips. “I’m high as hell, so I’m not sure what’s acceptable for our situation right now, but can I kiss you?”

“We probably shouldn’t,” you admitted, making his expression fall slightly. 

He nodded at you in reluctant agreement. “You’re right.” 

You bit your bottom lip. “Ah, fuck it, we’ll start going back to normal tomorrow.”