#when green leaves the house he brings his phone wallet keys and The Guilt

[trainerethan]

Bpd green...I see a vision...reds avoidant personality would be hell on earth for him but it's okay. They can work it out.

But for awhile after their reunion I know green woke up every day convinced red was going to walk off into the mountains again. Also just endless guilt about being mean to red when they were younger so he way over compensates now and it feels weird and forced for both of them.

Red has long forgiven green and wouldn't just leave again but unfortunately he doesn't actually like speaking out about how he's feeling so he seems sort of distant which makes green spiral a little.

Red isn't avoidant/closed off bc he thinks green won't care/doesn't trust him to confide in him but green probably sees it that way for awhile. He just has 0 experience with actually talking about your feelings instead of staying silent about how he feels and then leaving to live on a mountain to avoid any stress factors.

It's okay. Theyll figure it out. Being reunited after years of one of you living alone on a mountain and the other drowning in guilt over it will have your conflict resolution skill be a little rusty.

[chilling-seavey]

Qui Totum Vult Totum Perdit (d.s.) - 5

A/N Now the long chapters are really starting

Warnings: This story is centered around a murder so there will be graphic descriptions of blood, death/manslaughter, dealing with corpses, possible domestic abuse (physical/verbal), crime/covering up a crime, shock/grief, and other possibly heavy or triggering topics. Please read at your own discretion.

Avalon’s purse was left on the kitchen island right by the door. It was on its side as if it had been thrown there in some sort of haste when she came inside. I picked it up and ruffled through the small bag; pushing aside the tube of lipstick, small medicine bottle, few feminine hygiene products, and her wallet before accessing her phone.

Her lockscreen was a photo of me, taken on our honeymoon some time by the resort pool. If I didn’t feel the breath of shame and guilt on my neck, that certainly sealed it in. I typed in her passcode but was met with ‘incorrect pin’. I tried again, only to receive the same message. Since when did she change her passcode and not tell me?

We must ignore the fact that I changed mine a few weeks back without telling her as well.

The last thing I wanted to have to do was facial recognition, but it seemed that was my only option.

So I found myself back in the studio, patting softly over the blood soaked rug to the body of my wife to stick her iPhone in her face. Jonah watched from the doorway as I crouched down carefully on the balls of my feet and held the screen towards Avalon’s blank expression. The phone unlocked and the home screen appeared. I didn’t look at her for too long – honestly I couldn’t without risking being sent to empty my stomach again – and I simply took her phone over to the studio couch and sat down on the arm. Jonah stood beside me to watch over my shoulder as I opened up her contacts app and scrolled down to J.

You can imagine my surprise when the very first contact under that letter was simply the letter itself. It was too easy. I brought up any messages she had with that person and scrolled to the top of the reasonably short text thread. They had messaged her first,

Hey. Thanks for reaching out. I’ll have the stuff together for the end of the week as promised.

Great! Looking forward to it.

When’s your fiancé out next? I can drop by your place if you want.

He usually works late every day so whenever is good. Lunch tomorrow maybe?

Yeah, sounds good. See you then :)

There was only one other date that they had messaged – at least by text – and it was also a short yet cryptic conversation.

If you’re ready today I can come by. Daniel’s held up in meetings so I’m alone.

Yeah that’s fine. I’m at the Lincoln Motel in Pasadena. Room 19. Come by whenever.

1559 Lincoln Ave

Okay! I’ll head over now. I’m excited! :)

The green monster was never a kind friend, dear reader, and I couldn’t help but feel near sick again with the question as to if my wife had been cheating on me. Sure, I was no perfect man and I seemed to put a lot of my efforts into my work – maybe more than I should have – but never would I have dreamt about being unfaithful to her. Seemed as though she had thought differently. I locked Avalon’s phone and slid it in my pocket as I stood up, trying to act like it was something that just rolled off my back.

“What the fuck.” Jonah breathed.

I pushed a hand through my hair and rubbed the back of my neck tensely, ignoring his rhetorical question.

“You okay?” Jonah asked, setting his hand on my shoulder.

“Fine.” I nodded stiffly.

“Do you want to stop by the motel?”

I contemplated his offer for a moment. It was on the way out of state anyway and it would have been nice to get some answers. Maybe it would even help me figure out what happened to Avalon. This mysterious J person wasn’t necessarily in my good books at the moment.

“Yeah. We should.” I finally answered.

The first step before we could leave was to clean up the brutal scene that I had found myself amidst just in case anyone was to come past while we were gone. Our safest bet was to keep Avalon with us until we figured out what had happened; this was imperative especially if it came to the possible outcome where I had killed her. I grabbed an extra towel from under the sink in the studio and Jonah and I stood beside the body.

“Jesus Christ.” Jonah breathed as we stared at her.

I held the towel out to him, “You tuck this under her. I’ll lift her up.”

He nodded silently and watched as I stepped over my wife who was still laying out over the ruined rug. With one foot on either side of her, I bent down and slid my hands under her armpits and just around her back. She was terribly cold and I could feel it through the shirt she was still wearing. Ironic choice of words, but it was chilling.

Jonah slid the towel underneath her and the strain of me holding her limp body up caused more blood to trickle out of the gash across her neck and I looked away to keep from seeing any more. Waking up in it was enough. We moved down her body and I held up her hips so Jonah could tug the towel completely underneath her.

“Let’s move her to the hardwood.” I instructed flatly and we each took two corners of the towel to hoist her up off the blood-soaked rug.

Jonah and I shuffled across the studio and gently set her down on the hardwood in front of the front door to keep her off the rug. The knife still rested on the carpet, glinting teasingly in the late morning sun and I finally worked up the nerve to bend down and pick it up.

“I’ll leave you alone when you get it through your head what a psychotic bitch you’re being!”

“I’m psychotic?” she shrieked, whipping around to face me once we both entered the studio and I flicked on the light. The large collection of wedding gifts was piled neatly along the kitchenette counter and on the couch, the rest of the small single room building taken up by all of my music equipment. Avalon got right up in my face, pointing her finger at me behind furious brown eyes, and screaming until the minimal soundproofing almost muffled the edges of her voice, “Look at yourself! Screaming at me for simply missing my husband on our honeymoon! You’re so fucking psychotic it’s nearly goddamn comedic!”

“I’m not going to keep having this same argument with you, Avalon! I’m getting so sick of needing to defend myself against you time and time again! You just don’t respect me or my job!”

“Who even are you?” she scoffed humourlessly, “It’s nothing about respect, it’s about you being a decent human being – a decent husband – and actually showing me that you care about me!”

“Avalon, I swear to God if you don’t-”

“If I don’t what? Shut up? Be a good little wife and shut up and look pretty for you? Big important business tycoon Daniel Seavey is going to…do what exactly?”

With the knife in my hand, my eyes drifted to the stack of wedding gifts on the studio couch, the thin polished wooden box on the top capturing my attention. The lid was left open, revealing the velvet trimmed interior and the rest of the silver knives resting in a row inside. It was a wedding gift from my brother, the high-end knife set purchased and engraved with our surname on each dark wooden handle until they looked no less than ridiculously expensive and classy. The one empty slot in the velvet box had its assigned subject resting in my hand, the largest knife from the box weighing down in my fingers.

How strange and ironic it is; Avalon killed by a knife wielding her own surname. The surname only given to her a mere three weeks earlier. I had no time to stew on that, however, as I was sure that the fact she wasn’t at work that morning (and that neither was I) would start to raise suspicions. We had to get out of there before someone came looking for us.

I took the knife to the sink in the kitchenette along the far wall of the studio and turned on the hot water to rinse the blood off the blade. I found myself trembling slightly as I scrubbed, my hands struggling to keep still even under the warmth of the water. The red stained the water and flooded around the base of the stainless-steel sink as the drain pulled it down and soon my hands and the knife were left clean and spotless.

Jonah had the rug rolled up from the floor by the time I finished cleaning the knife and I thanked him quietly as I set the chef’s knife back in its slot in the wooden box. The handles stared back at me, twelve identical silver engravings of my surname staring back at me as if they knew what I had possibly done. I closed the lid and snapped the silver clasps shut.

“What do we do with the rug?” I asked my best friend.

Jonah exhaled deeply and brushed the back of his hand over his forehead. He thought for a minute before replying, “Bring it with us?”

I nodded in agreement, “Okay. I’ll grab my keys.”

I headed back into the main house quickly to grab my keys and anything else I might want to bring with me. My laptop case was an obvious and I tucked Avalon’s letter in my bag too just in case I might need it again while figuring everything out.

I was ready for a quick getaway but of course that would have been too easy. Another thing that drove my wife insane? The fact that I constantly was losing everything. My keys were usually the victim of my carelessness and this moment was obviously no exception. I couldn’t find them anywhere, along the front console table or in my laptop bag or on the kitchen counter.

Jonah stepped inside the back door again, “Are you coming?”

“Yeah.” I rushed back down the hallway to the master bedroom, scanning the side tables and the front pocket of our packed suitcase hurriedly.

Time wasn’t on our side and my tendency to misplace everything I own certainly wasn’t helping. On my way back down the hallway, I caught myself on the doorway to the walk-in-closet when I saw a glint out of the corner of my eye and stepped back to see my keys peeking out of my jean’s pocket. You would think I would have checked their first. Well, sorry to break it to you, but nothing was going as expected that morning.

I grabbed my keys from my blood-stained jeans and stuffed the hoodie and pants into my laptop bag too. I stopped to grab a baseball hat and set it on my head followed by my darkest sunglasses I had in my closet to try and keep some sort of physical neutrality for going into public before meeting Jonah back on the porch. I held my keys up to him as I walked right past him and around the side of the house to the gate. He followed right behind me with the expensive box of knives in hand.

The driveway backed right onto the side gate and I unlatched it and pulled the white pickets open to let ourselves through. Ah yes, my pretty expensive Los Angeles house and my white picket fence and my dead wife. Really living the perfect American dream, huh?

I unlocked my Tesla and yanked open the back door to toss in my overflowing laptop bag and Jonah’s heavy work bag while Jonah opened the trunk and tucked the knife set in the corner. We hurried back down the driveway towards the studio door and slipped back inside, stepping over Avalon to grab the rug first. We each took an end of the heavy rolled up vintage Persian and took it down to my car. I was lucky my car had been parked in reverse in the driveway which prevented any neighbours from possibly seeing us loading the trunk with questionable items.

The last thing we needed to take care of was Avalon but we couldn’t necessarily carry her outside in a blood streaked towel. We stood over her in thought of what to do next. We needed something to keep it discreet while still being able to keep her in one piece. There was no way I would be able to stomach cutting any limbs. I had gone through enough that morning as it was.

My eyes scanned my studio for any possible solution to our situation and quickly landed on one of the large travel cases I used for my production keyboard. I looked back down at Avalon’s body and then back to the long trunk. 

This was insane.

I stepped over her and walked over to the corner of the studio where the travel trunks were stacked up. I moved a few smaller ones from the top and Jonah came over to help me once he caught on to what I was doing. I flipped open the top of the trunk and made sure it was empty except for the thin plush padding that lined the interior. 

I refrained from making a joke about it at least being a comfortable place for her to lay.

Jonah and I each took an end of the towel again and hoisted her stiff body up and over to the trunk and lowered her in slowly. I made sure the towel was tucked inside and that her arms and legs were resting flatly before closing the lid and buckled up the case. Jonah and I met each other’s eyes over top of the trunk but didn’t speak a word before picking up either end and made our way out of the studio.

The walk down the side of the house to the driveway felt like forever. There we were, in broad daylight, on a regular Tuesday morning, carrying a dead body into the trunk of my car. The production case fit nicely into the trunk – I knew it would from the amount of times I had to bring it into work or over to Jonah’s house – and I shut the trunk over top of it. I let out a shaky exhale and Jonah and I glanced blankly at each other.

Detective Team: @jonahlovescoffee​ @randomlimelightxxx​ @stuffofseaveyy​ @hopinglimelight​ @tempus-ut-luceant​ @br4nd1s​ @xkelsev​ @hiya-its-amber​ @sexyseavey15​

[madpanda75]

“The Romantics” Part Four

Rafael and the reader reunite ( Reunited and it feels so good...) and take a trip down memory lane ❤️

That voice. That soft soothing voice that for years you had only heard in your dreams. You froze, nearly dropping your glass before slowly turning around. It was him. Your breath softly hitched. The pictures you saw online did not do Rafael justice. His captivating green eyes, aquiline nose, thick dark hair perfectly gelled in place, he was strikingly handsome.

“Mr. Barba...umm I mean, Rafi….I mean, Rafael.” You fumbled over your words, feeling flustered. “Sorry, I don’t know if you still go by Rafi.”

Rafael smirked and rubbed the back of his neck. For a moment, you caught a glimpse of that young man from college you had known so well. “Rafi is fine. In fact, I think you and my mother are the only two people who call me that.”

You smiled, blushing a bit as you subtly looked him over. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too.” Rafael stepped closer, extending his arms a bit to give you a hug while at the same time you stuck out your hand for a handshake. You both halted your actions and reversed roles, he tried to give you a handshake while you tried to hug him. Awkwardly giggling at the situation, you leaned forward and gave him a polite hug.

You reluctantly stepped back and sipped on your drink, both of you trying to think of what to say. “I heard about Alex and the whole scandal,” you blurted out. “I’m sorry, I know how close you were with him.” Idiot! You haven’t seen this man in 20 years and this is what you decide to say?! Wow, way to go, Y/N.

“Thanks, it’s a long story.” He nodded. A sad smile crossed his face before cocking his head to the side and knitting his eyebrows in concern. “Rebecca mentioned you got divorced. I’m sorry to hear that.” Pendejo, what is wrong with you! Who the hell brings up someone’s divorce like that?! While you’re at it, why don’t you bring up her dog dying when she was seven.

You snorted a laugh while absentmindedly playing with your ring finger. “Thanks, it’s an even longer story. Do you wanna maybe-”

“Sit down,” he replied, finishing your thought.

“Yeah and we can-”

“Catch up?” He added, once again finishing your sentence.

You smiled brightly and laughed a genuine laugh. It was music to Rafael’s ears.

“I’m sitting over here.” He grinned, gently taking your arm and leading you to his table.

*****

Time flew by while you and Rafael caught up on each other’s lives. You picked up right where you left off, as if you had just seen each other yesterday and not 20 years ago. Rafael sat, listening intently while you told him about your work in the publishing world and how you accepted the New York position to live closer to your mom. In turn, he talked about becoming an ADA, the images that haunted him from his work at SVU, the guilt he felt about not having enough time to spend with his mom and abuela. You felt safe confiding in one another. It was familiar and comfortable. You finally had your friend back.

While Rafael left to grab a drink, you sat alone, making a mental note to thank your old roommate for convincing you to come. You sighed in contentment, prodding your apple torte with your fork when you heard someone call your name. You instantly dropped your utensil and looked up to find Cookie Abernathy approaching your table.

Cookie Abernathy was your typical snobby rich girl from New England. She was a legacy student and you strongly suspected her acceptance into Harvard was more based on her father’s wallet than her SAT scores. You had a couple classes with Cookie. She was a beautiful vapid shell who also happened to be a mean girl. You thought after high school that you were done with mean girls. Cookie Abernathy and several other women you encountered throughout your life proved you wrong.

“Cookie!” You said, plastering a smile on your face. “How are you?”

“Pregnant!” She turned to the side, revealing a tiny baby bump. “Baby number two! It’s a girl.”

“Wow, congratulations. That’s great news,” you said, genuinely happy for her although your heart dropped a little. You had always wanted a family, but didn’t want to raise a child in a loveless marriage. As you got older, the likelihood of becoming a mother grew less and less. Seeing Cookie happy and glowing only served as a reminder of your inadequacies, your failures in life.

“Thanks. My husband’s around here somewhere. He never lets me out of his sight. Always making sure I’m taking it easy with this little one on the way.” She patted her stomach and sat down. “So what’s new with you? Married? Kids? Divorced?” She asked with a glint in her eye.  

“Well….no. Actually-” You shook your head, trying to think of a way to put a positive spin on your childless single life when you felt a hand squeeze your shoulder. Looking up, there was Rafael standing behind you.

“Actually, she’s with me. Hi, Rafael Barba.” He gave Cookie a disarming smile and shook her hand, staring at her as if he was trying to place where he knew her. “I know you. Aren’t you the girl who got so drunk she defecated in the middle of the living room floor during a house party.”

You nearly spit out your scotch. Cookie turned beet red, glancing around to make sure no one overheard. “Umm...I’m...sure..that wasn’t me.”

Rafael widened his eyes. “No it definitely was you. I remember they had to burn the rug. Anyways, it’s great to see you again.” He turned to face you and offered his arm. “Wanna get out of here?”

“Sure. See ya’, Cookie!” You stood up and waved, following Rafael. If only you had taken a photo of Cookie’s shocked embarrassed face to commemorate the night the mean girl was taken down a notch.

“Thanks for that.” You smiled and nudged his shoulder.

“Anytime. I’ve always got your back,” he replied, nudging your shoulder right back.

While leaving you met Rebecca’s gaze, who with a knowing smile, gave you a thumbs up. You playfully rolled your eyes, unable to conceal the blush forming on your cheeks. As you walked out of the banquet hall with Rafael by your side, an idea popped into your head. “Wanna go for a little walk down memory lane?”

“Lead the way,” he said with a smirk.

*****

Rafael shook his head, staring up at the large imposing Corinthian columns supporting the austere classical building. “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” he mumbled.

“Where’s your sense of adventure?” you asked while opening a side door to the library.

“I think I left it in that library about 20 years ago.” He glanced around, keeping a watchful eye out, making sure neither of you would get caught. “How did you even know where the key is?”

“Because this is Harvard. They don’t fuck with tradition. Even the student librarians who hide the spare key know that.” You dangled the key in front of his face before leading him inside.

The library was pitch black, any noise that was made echoed against the walls. You shuffled around in the dark, bumping into furniture. “This would be so much easier if we had flashlights,” you hissed, stubbing your toe against a chair leg when suddenly a bright light flashed before your eyes.

Rafael stood next to you, holding up his cell phone, the flashlight function turned on. “You need to get with the times, Y/N. We’re not in 1993 anymore,” he teased.

“Way to put our Harvard education to good use,” you sarcastically said, grabbing his hand and walking down an ominous hall. The moment your hands touched, a spark shot through Rafael. He tried to suppress the feeling and continued to follow you.

A couple more twists and turns down long hallways and you had arrived. There in the dark corner of the library on the bottom shelf near the wall were your initials. Carved in the porous wood as a testament to the love you had for one another during your youth, among the authors who weaved their tales of love, beauty, and nature, who bared their souls and exposed their hearts for the world to see.

“Wow, I can’t believe it’s still here,” Rafael whispered.

Nodding your head, you reached into your purse and grabbed a small bottle of scotch.

Rafael softly laughed, his eyes widening in surprise. “Where did you get that?”

“Nabbed it from my hotel room minibar. Just in case there was terrible scotch at the dinner.” You winked and uncapped the bottle, raising it up to the bookshelf that kept your secret for 20 years. “Here’s to the Romantics.” You took a swig before handing it over to Rafael.

“Here’s to us,” he softly said, holding the bottle up to you and taking a drink.

You blushed and knelt down to get a closer look, gingerly tracing those four letters with your fingers. Tears threatened your eyes as memories of that night came flooding back. Rafael set the bottle down on a shelf and crouched down with you, huddling close as he reached out to caress your initials. Your fingertips brushed against his. You could feel his hair tickling your forehead, your faces were so close that your breath mingled with his. The intoxicating smell of his cologne filled your nostrils. There was an electricity building between your bodies, creating its own powerful energy.

“Y/N.” His voice cracked with emotion as he clasped your hand and faced you, his eyes glossy with tears. “I’m so sorry about everything. About Yelina. I wanted to call you so many times, but I wasn’t sure if you would still want me. I’ve missed you so much.”

“Oh, Rafi.” You cupped his face, stroking his cheek with your thumb. “Of course I want you. I’ve missed you too. I just thought you had moved on.”

“I’ve never been able to move on. I love you. Y/N. I’ve always loved you.” Rafael confessed, unable to hide his feelings anymore. He wanted you to see all of him, to know how deep his love for you still was.

“I love you too. We lost each other once. I don’t wanna lose you again,” you whispered, leaning your forehead against his.

“You’ll never lose me,” he whispered.

Licking his lips, he glanced down at your mouth, moving his hand to the back of your neck, silently seeking permission. You closed the gap and kissed him softly. Rafael sighed and pressed his warm lips to yours, kissing you with every ounce of passion he possessed. You sighed against his mouth and wrapped your arms around him.

He parted your lips with his tongue, sliding it over yours. You softly moaned in response as the kiss quickly gained momentum. He gently laid you down, the cool floor against your exposed skin making you gasp. His taste. His touch. You lost yourself in his kisses, giving into your desires.

The sound of a door slamming brought you both quickly back to Earth. “Who’s there!” A voice boomed from the darkness, a beam of light bouncing around the room. “This is campus security! Come out now!”

You froze and looked up at Rafael, placing your finger over your lips before pointing in the opposite direction from where you entered. He nodded his head, silently following you out the back of the building. As soon as you left the library, you both ran, finally reaching Rafael’s car that was parked nearby. You leaned back against the door, clutching your chest, trying to catch your breath. Rafael stood in front of you, breathing heavy with his hands on his knees.

“I’m too old for this,” you both said at the same time. You locked eyes, laughing and panting. Eventually the laughter died, leaving only silence between you both. Rafael’s eyes darkened, he was on you in less than a second, placing a bruising kiss to your lips. Your bodies pressed together as if drawn by a magnetic force. You slid your tongue across his bottom lip, drawing out a shaky breath from him. “Take me, Rafi. I’m yours,” you whispered.

He pulled back and cupped your face, breathing heavy. “Are you sure?”

Feeling bold, you took his hand and placed it under your dress, allowing him to feel how wet your panties already were. “Does this feel like I’m sure,” you purred.

He groaned in response and kissed you hard before opening the passenger side door for you. “Let’s go.”

@glimmerglittergirl @southern-magnolia @sweetcannolicarisi @delia26 @obfuscateyummy @sass-and-suspenders @eclecticminded @thatesqcrush @katmstanton @amirightcounsellor @beltzboys2015-blog @letty-o @sonnysdoll @lyssa1385 @sweetsummertime99 @burningsorr0ws @gibbs274 @izzythefanfreak @riodallas @babypink224221 @livxrafa @esparza-army @obsessionprofessional @ottosuricato @raulmonamour @tropes-and-tales

[builder051]

Both sides now

A Clint/Laura angsty sickfic.

_____

Bows and flows of angel hair and ice cream castles in the air And feather canyons everywhere, I've looked at clouds that way But now they only block the sun, they rain and snow on everyone So many things I would have done, but clouds got in my way

--Joni Mitchell, Both Sides Now

_____

It takes Clint an extra 20 minutes to detour to CVS and pick up cold medicine. He walks down the aisle in front of the pharmacy and grabs every box and bottle that looks enticing, stacking them between his forearm and his chest like a misplaced Jenga tower. It wobbles dangerously when he bends his knees. Who thought it was a good idea to put the lotion tissues on the bottom shelf?

He admits it’s worth it to pay extra for premium Kleenex and maybe save his already-raw nose a bit of torture. He should save himself the torture of trying to balance his load, too, but using a shopping basket is a different kind of defeat. One of the packages of pills falls to the ground as he straightens up, but Clint’s head is spinning. He doesn’t feel like figuring out what to set down in order to retrieve it. He probably doesn’t need Benadryl anyway.

He leaves it in the middle of the aisle and dumps his purchases on the checkout counter, then wipes his dripping nose on his sleeve as he reaches for his wallet.

“Can I help you find anything else today, sir?” the cashier says in a monotone.

Clint’s fever has reduced his brain to the speed of an outdated laptop running a security scan. He blinks at the wall of alcohol and tobacco products behind the register. He wouldn’t mind a bottle of Crown, something to put him to sleep that doesn’t taste like artificial cherries.

But it’s one in the morning and he’s still grimy from the mission and dressed in the old sweats he throws on when he doesn’t bother to shower before hitting the highway for the commute back home. And he’s probably already buying two or three things that contain codeine. No need to arouse suspicion.

“That’ll be $35.15, man.” The kid’s high as fuck, and Clint probably could’ve gotten away with half the liquor cabinet and not so much as an ID check. But he’s missed his opportunity. His mind finds a new state of awareness, realizing time is dragging and hating it, but still missing power to change course. So he just hands over his credit card and tries not to gag on his own snot.

Clint slides into the car, trying to get comfortable in his seat. He thinks about drugging up then and there, but he still has a ways to drive. He doesn’t trust himself to read the fine print and figure out what causes drowsiness and what doesn’t. And he neglected to buy anything to drink. His throat’s too swollen to dry-swallow pills, and his taste buds too sensitive for liquid medication without a chaser. Maybe he should’ve bought the Crown after all.

It isn’t till five minutes later when he’s back on the highway that the thought really sinks in, and Clint feels stupid again. His body aches something fierce, and the seat bites into his spine. He just wants to lie down. Maybe shower first. But he’s not sure he feels up to it, and Laura will probably have given up on him and gone to sleep.

He glances at the clock. It’s almost half an hour after he said he’d be home. She drinks wine and watches sitcoms for a couple hours after the kids are in bed. When Clint’s home, they do it together, working their way through Seinfeld and Cheers and Friends, then going back to re-watch their favorites. Sometimes Laura giggles at the wrong time, engrossed in text conversations with Nat. Sometimes Clint plays Nintendo. Lately the iPad set up on the bed between them has been running through the queue automatically, neither of them looking up when the next episode starts.

Laura texts Nat when Clint’s not home, too. She used to text Clint, but now he only gets responses. She doesn’t reach out first anymore. Clint only gets his wife’s jokes and goofy stories when he catches a grinning Nat checking her phone under the table in the boardroom and asks what’s so funny.

Clint stops at the red light at the bottom of the off ramp and digs his phone out of his pocket. Laura’s last message is still on his lock screen. He’d read it, but never opened it. So maybe he’s just as guilty. But it doesn’t take much effort to read and comprehend “K.”

The light turns green, and Clint drops his phone in his lap. He repeats the word over in his head, trying on different inflections and emotions. It’s not even a word. Just a letter. Is it any better with disappointment? Resignation? Sadness?

It has to be one of those. Clint doesn’t know for sure, but he knows his wife well enough to tell an acknowledgement from something else. If she had on a lace bra and expensive perfume, she’d have added a smiley face. If she was digging in the cupboard for chicken noodle soup, she’d have added a question mark.

But just a period? That’s I have to be up in under six hours to get the kids to school. And you’re late. Again.

Clint’s stomach turns with guilt. Pinpricks of sweat break out over his forehead, and all emotions are placed on hold for more physical feelings. He’s a mile from the house and abjectly against pulling over. But it’s already clear he’s not winning anything tonight.

He makes it halfway up the bumpy driveway before the gag hanging in his throat becomes more than just an urge. Clint throws the car in park and opens his door, hanging over the gravel to spit up mucous that tastes like bile.

It’s just nauseous sputtering, the kind that comes from problems with his head and throat, not with his stomach. It’s a useful excuse when, say, the kids still end up at school despite the mess in the backseat of the car. But for Clint, it’s another failure. He can’t even throw up properly. There’s no sense of relief when he’s finished.

He tears open the box of tissues to wipe his mouth and blow his nose, then he collects the loot from the drug store and trudges up toward the house. It’s a small bright point that he didn’t bring up much; Clint doubt’s he’d be able to see a puddle of vomit on the uneven ground in the dark.

The front door is unlocked, which means Laura hasn’t turned in yet after all. Clint wants to sing her praises. He doesn’t realize how much of a hassle it is to fumble keys with cold, shaky fingers until he suddenly doesn’t have to do it. Maybe he does have enough energy left in his drained batteries to shower before he passes out.

Clint toes off his shoes and kicks them roughly in line with the row of boots and sneakers beneath the coat hooks. He shuffles into the kitchen and grabs the first water bottle he sees in the door of the fridge, not caring that it’s pink and covered in butterflies. Water’s water. They have a dishwasher to kill the germs before he gives it back to Lila. Clint takes a sip as he heads down the hall.

The lamp is on in the master bedroom. A pale yellow glow feeds out into the hallway. They don’t keep the light on when they watch TV, but the fact doesn’t exactly compute.

Laura sits in bed, glasses perched on her nose, stitching a patch onto the knee of Cooper’s jeans. Clint drops the plastic CVS bag on top of the comforter, and Laura looks up at him.

“Hey,” she says. She makes two more neat stitches, then ties off her thread and snips it. She folds the jeans and arranges her supplies neatly on top of them on the bedside table.

Clint watches her, stuck on the carefulness of her movement, the set of her mouth. She keeps the house running with a mix of focus and fun. She rolls with the punches. She only retreats into this mode of somber productivity when things aren’t right with her. Or more accurately, around her. Clint’s having difficulty separating tiredness from truth, but he can’t think of a single time Laura’s fucked up.

He needs to ask if she’s ok. Not that it makes much sense, because Clint’s beginning to feel like he could throw up again while his wife seems physically fine, just pissed. But unlike Laura, Clint makes bad choices a lot. Especially today. So he just says, “Hey,” back. Then he coughs. Pitifully.

“I was thinking we should talk.” Laura folds her hands in her lap. She’s an expert at ripping off Band-Aids, even when a fever makes the pain worse. “About you never being home anymore. But, you know.” She laughs humorlessly. “You’re never home anymore.”

“Yeah, hon,” Clint sighs. “I’m really sorry.” He doesn’t know what else he can say. Any promise to do better won’t hold water. His schedule won’t change unless he has a serious talk with his superiors. Which he can do. Maybe. Eventually. But it doesn’t solve the problem of tonight.

Clint’s head throbs. He dumps the array of medications out over the foot of the bed and searches out the strongest, longest-lasting thing. Something good for headaches and stomachaches and snotty noses and being a bad husband.

He should’ve asked if Laura was ok, kept up the pattern of initiation-response. Maybe she would’ve lied and said she was fine, and he’d be that much closer to sleeping it off.

Laura’s not ok. She’s already made that clear. But Clint’s not ok either. He gets that she’s not wild about him right now. He wants more than acknowledgement, though. Not an argument, not exclamation points. Happiness is too far in the other direction. But perhaps a question mark? Is it too much to crave a little care?

Clint picks up the box of Tylenol PM and squints at the directions on the back. His throat feels tight, either preparing to dry heave or anticipating the ordeal of swallowing pills. He takes a small sip of water, then tries to insert his fingernail under the sharp flap on the top of the box. “Sorry,” he murmurs again. “Can we…talk about it later?”

“When, Clint?” Laura shakes her head. “I’m gonna take the kids to school tomorrow, and you’re gonna sleep in, then I’ll get back and have an hour to feed you and start your laundry before you have to go back and have a debrief or a board meeting or supervise training or whatever it is you do out there…”

“I’ll find time. I’ll get up with you.” But he won’t. Clint backtracks. “I’ll call in sick tomorrow.” That’s more like it.

“What if you get called for a mission?” Laura’s volume rises. She’s not shouting, but she wants to be sure Clint hears her. “What if you take a bullet while you’re saving the world, and you realize the last time you sat at the table with your kids was over two weeks ago?”

Clint lets out a slow breath. His vision shimmers around the edges. He blinks hard, but the apparition doesn’t fade. He clutches the water bottle and the box of Tylenol together as he slowly turns and sits on the edge of the mattress.

“Honey.” Clint looks down at the carpet, hoping a singular visual focus will keep disaster from happening. Or not happening. If he barfs, maybe Laura will turn her sympathy back on. He fights a hiccup. “Can we not do this right now? Please?”

“You’ve been putting this off. Maybe you don’t realize it, but you have.” The bed shifts as Laura stands up. “You can’t do that, Clint.”

“I know, babe. I hear you.” He can’t hold down the hiccup this time. Clint’s hands are full, so he presses his wrist over his mouth. A drip shivering at the end of his nose soaks into his sleeve. “I just…I can’t right now. I really can’t.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then Laura sighs, the sound impossibly drawn out. But maybe Clint’s just losing track of time again.

The ends of Laura’s hair twitch into Clint’s peripheral vision as she kneels in front of him. “Didn’t you get a flu shot?” she asks. There’s still irritation in her voice, but its intensity has lessened.

“Yeah.” Clint swallows hard. “I don’t know what this is.” He hiccups again.

“Please don’t throw up in here. We have kids for that.” Now a hint of a smile.

“No, I’m not…” Clint breathes down the sick feeling, willing his headache to go back to just a throb. He can handle that. “I already did. Well, kinda…”

“In the car?” Laura wrinkles her nose. “I don’t wanna know.”

“Hm.” Clint’s not eager to retell it anyway.

“Looks like you really bought out the pharmacy.” Laura takes the box of pills from Clint’s hand. “But I’m gonna have to dose it for you, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, I’m…” Clint lifts his head and fixes his glassy eyes on hers. “A hopeless mess. You know?”

Laura makes quick work of the blister pack and drops two tablets into Clint’s palm. “Yeah. You kind of are.” She leans in to kiss his forehead. “You’re really cooking, too.”

“I really don’t feel good,” Clint admits. “But…I’m sorry, babe.”

“We’ll talk,” Laura says. “When you’re patched up a little. You really planning on a sick day tomorrow?”

Clint nods. He tosses back the pills and chases them with a draught of water, triple-swallowing to make sure they go down.

“Good. You need it.”

“Yeah,” Clint says. “We both do,”

[pietrotheavenger]

the louvre (bucky barnes)

summary: bucky wanted to get as far from his past as he could. y/n wasn’t sure of what she wanted. (takes place in france)

pairings: au!bucky barnes x fem!reader

warnings: smoking, mentions of domestic violence

a/n: in this part i mention that bucky has “gotten over” his abusive relationship but that is not the case! people don’t forget about domestic violence two minutes after leaving. this is just something that’s occurring in this plot, but you will see later on that bucky does not get over her. it’s just in the moment. like getting over any terrible thing in your life, you have good days and bad days. bucky is being hit by the awe of the fact that he’s in france, and the abuse he went through is sort of at the back of his mind, despite the fact that he came to france to get away from that abuse.

un « deux » trois

series masterlist

***please read authors note!

in the morning, bucky stood on his balcony, smoking a cigarette. in the distance, he heard someone playing louis armstrong. he admired the sunrise, which happened to be just to the right of the building in front of him. he had a wonderful view, and could see the rest of the city from there. he took several deep breaths as he thought about the events that unfolded the day prior. he was actually in paris. he couldn’t believe how forward he had been with y/n, how easy it was for him to talk to her. he’d gotten over the devil quicker than he’d thought he would. maybe things would turn out okay.

“james!” he heard someone call out his name, and he looked around, surprised and confused. “james! over here! right in front of you!” his eyes finally landed on y/n, standing on her balcony and waving at him. she was wearing some sort of peach silk robe, and her hair pulled back in a messy bun. the sleeves of the robe came just above her elbows, but they bunched around her shoulder as she tried to get his attention. the white curtains, from the french doors behind her, billowed out and made her seem quite angelic. he realized the music was coming from her apartment.

“hey!” bucky yelled back, waving a hand.

“you weren’t kidding, you really do live there!” she laughed.

“this is me!” he gestured around. he leaned against the railing, his bare chest pushing into it.

“if you ever need anything i can just throw it over!” she laughed, and he found himself smiling widely.

“i need 10 more hours of sleep and a million euros!” he responded, tucking hair behind his ear. she burst into giggles, and he watched her with awe. what a beautiful creature she was. he’d barely gotten to know her. hell, he’d only exchanged pleasantries with her, but she was intoxicating, and bucky needed more.

“i’ll see you in the evening!” she waved again, then turned around to reenter her apartment. she left the doors open, so bucky continued hearing the music.

after he finished his cigarette, he decided that he would unpack his belongings. he hadn’t brought much. just some clothes, a few books, two towels, and a blanket. he’d vowed to himself that he wouldn’t take anything that the devil had bought for him. that eliminated practically everything that he owned. she’d been a magazine editor, and paid all the bills in the house and constantly bought him things. when she would act out, she would guilt trip him into staying. she’d done so much for him, and he was leaving! he was living for free and he has the audacity to discard the greatest thing that ever happened to him!

being a cpa, bucky did bring home some money. he had his student loans and his car payment to take care of. he always ended up saving the rest of his paycheck. so, needless to say, he had quite a bit of money saved up. he hadn’t made the decision to leave the devil quickly. he’d been thinking about it for months before he started actively working towards it. he spent no extra money, began looking at different places to move, looking for apartments in his top three cities, contacting landlords, and so much more. he’d worked hard, and he was free now.

upon reentering his bedroom, bucky remembered that he had absolutely no furniture. he had spread his towels on the ground, bunched up some clothes for a pillow, and pulled his blanket under his chin, last night. he realized that he didn’t even bring any hangers. with what he had at hand, he literally could get nothing done.

so, he got dressed in a forest green hoodie and jeans and hit the streets. he made several trips, dropping things off and going back to get more. he bought a bed, nightside table, two barstools (which were going to be dropped off the following day), some pillows, sheets, dishes, cleaning supplies, curtains, a rug, a clock, hangers, and groceries. he cleaned the house before he began to put away the things that he could. he hung up his clothes, stocked the fridge, washed and put the dishes away, and installed the curtains. it was four in the afternoon when he hopped up onto his counter to take a breather. he’d spent a little more money than he had wanted to, but he wasn’t worried. he had the basic necessities, and wouldn’t have to buy anything else, except for groceries in the future. he most likely wouldn’t have to entertain anyone so he didn’t need furniture for his living room. once the furniture store dropped off his purchases, his home would be completed.

he watched the seconds tick by on the clock until fifteen minutes had passed, deep in thought. then, he jumped down from where he was sitting, and headed into the shower. he emerged an hour later, not realizing how quickly time had passed. he stood in front of his closet for a long time, his towel hanging low on his hips and his wet hair pulled back in a bun. he rubbed his hand over his stubble, staring at his clothes. he took out a green t-shirt, then put it back in. he pulled a pair of jeans off of one of the built in shelves, then tossed it away. after several minutes of scrutinizing every article of clothing he owned, he decided on a pair of tailored dress slacks, and a maroon button up, rolling the sleeves to his elbows. he towel dried his hair and checked the clock again. 5:30. he grabbed his phone, keys, and wallet, and left the house.

showing up to a dinner party with nothing in hand was the last thing that he wanted to do. especially since he didn’t know anyone there, except for y/n. he bought a bottle of modestly priced wine and a bouquet of roses and sunflowers, before making his way to her apartment.

he knocked on her door, hoping he’d remembered the way correctly. he was rewarded with a lovely smile, y/n swinging the door open and exclaiming, “james!” frank sinatra played out from behind her.

“hi,” he grinned, not quite sure what to do.

“you learned la bise in french class, right?” she raised an eyebrow.

“yes,” he nodded once.

“great,” she stood on her tip toes, despite wearing heels, and put a hand on his shoulder for balance. she softly brushed the left side of his face with her right, making a kissing sound. bucky’s eyes fluttered shut as he reciprocated. she moved to his right and repeated the action.

“come in!” she opened the door wider.

“i, uh, got these for you,” he held the wine and flowers out. she spun around, her brown skirt flaring around her.

“oh those are beautiful! you’re too sweet, james,” she reached out to take them from him and placed them on the counter. “let me just grab a vase...” she trailed off, putting her hands on her hips and looking around her kitchen. “ah! there they are!” she began filling it up with water as she spoke to him, “take a seat, james. maybe open up that wine. you’re the first one here.”

he did just as she said, and uncorked the wine and poured it into two wine glasses that were nearby. he sat down onto one of the barstools just as y/n finished up putting the flowers together. he cleared his throat before speaking, “so you like old music?”

“yeah, i do,” she raised her eyebrows, grinning. she grabbed the glass of wine and leaned against the counter as she continued, “i got them at a,” she paused, “it’s been so long since i’ve had to use the english word for it, but here it’s called vide-grenier? you sell things out of your house and other people can buy them?”

“oh, like a garage sale,” he offered.

“yes! anyways, i got this old 1940s, or something, record player and a bunch of records for only ten euros so i decided to buy it,” she shrugged with one shoulder.

“that’s-” he began, but was cut off by the doorbell.

“ah! someone’s here!”

permanent taglist: open

@ssweet-empowerment ; @httpmcrvel ; @sumafamouxx ; @capt-stevenrogers ; @iamkingkillmonger ; @abuckyrogersworld ; @freightcarcap ;

the louvre taglist: open

@wisestydia-15

[youcancallmeelle]

And I’ll Be The Sky And You Be The Bird... Part 3: (FP jones x Original Character).

** Inspired by this song **

As we sat on the bleachers for lunch the next day, all that was on my mind was FP.

I cursed myself for starting this but at the same time, I didn’t regret.

I felt immense guilt though, especially for Jughead. He was one of my closest friends, we had a lot in common and I was also tight with Betty.

I wasn’t fond of sneaking around but it was my life, it was my choice.

“Who’s up for the drive in tonight?” Kevin asked, plopping down next to me and throwing an arm around my shoulder.

“I guess that’d be cool, I don’t have work tonight.”

“Sounds great, what do you think Archikins?” Veronica inquired, nudging her boyfriend who was in a world of his own.

“I’m up for it, I’ll borrow my dad’s truck and pick you up.” He told her.

“Do you, Betty and Jug wanna hop in my car? I’ll drive us.” Kevin suggested and I nodded, taking a gulp of my water and wiping the sweat off my brow.

“What’s playing.” Jughead wondered, stealing some of his girlfriends lunch.

“The breakfast club, a true classic.” Kevin sighed happily and Ronnie squealed, clapping her hands.

“It’s not that good.” I chuckled, pulling my phone out from the back pocket of my shorts as I felt it vibrate.

“How dare you speak such words!” Veronica gasped, her perfectly manicured hand over her heart.

I rolled my eyes and glanced down at my phone, noticing a notification of a text message. I bit my lip and briefly looked up before I opened the message, just incase there were any wondering eyes.

From: FP Jones Recieved: 12:24

Good afternoon, any reason you’ve been ignoring my messages all day?

I hastily closed the message, leaving it to lie with the other few that he’d sent me today. I wasn’t ready to talk to him yet, my head had been spinning from the moment we kissed and I was unsure of my next move.

I locked my iphone and shoved it back into my pocket, refocusing on the group conversation.

“Hi there, losers!” A snooty voice chiden in, a certain red head making herself know as she stood before us in her iconic cheerleading outfit.

“What’s up, Cheryl?” Betty sighed, leaning into her boyfriends side as Cheryl admired her red claws.

“I couldn’t help but overhear that you’re going to the drive in tonight and I thought you’d all appreciate my company, obviously.”

“You bet.” I replied sarcastically and she glared at me in distaste, to which I couldn’t help but grin back.

“You can pick me up at seven, Archie.” She informed him, before strutting away back to the vixens.

“There’s only one Cheryl Blossom.” Jughead spoke to which we all noded in agreement.

“Thank god.” Archie grumbled, staring after the red head.

Lunch flew by and soon we were sitting in our last few lessons, the hours passing by slower than ever.

But thankfully, the school day did eventually come to an end and before I knew it, I was sat in my car, ready to head home.

I only lived a short distance away from Riverdale high, a few streets from the auto shop, so everything I needed was a nice convenience away and easily accessible.

I flicked the the stereo on as I pulled out of the parking lot, my phone was connected to my car so my own music blared out of the speakers.

I shoved my sunglasses on my face and wound all my windows down, there was something comforting about doing this and it gave me a chance to cool down since the summer heat was stifling.

The ride was brief, just how I liked things.

“Hey, Mom.” I called out as I entered my house after I’d parked my Mini in the driveway, kicking off my shoes and padding into the kitchen.

“Have a good day, baby?” She asked as she kissed my head, avoiding touching me as she was in the middle of prepping dinner for this evening.

“As good as it gets.” I chuckled, opening the fridge door for a can of soda to quench my thirst.

“It’s chicken and greens for dinner tonight, love.” Mom told me, continuing to add spices and herbs to the chicken that she was just about to place in the oven.

“Actually, Mom. I won’t be home for dinner tonight, I’m going to the movies.” I replied, taking a large gulp of my soda.

“With a boy?” She gasped, almost delighted.

“Sure, why not.” I confirmed, wanting to have a little fun with her.

“What’s he like? Is he handsome? Do I know him?” She fired at me, her words coming out so fast that I could just about understand her.

“He’s so handsome.” I exaggerated and her eyes brightened at the thought of her loner daughter finally having a love interest but little did she know, her little girl was out kissing men twice her age.

“I can’t wait to meet him!”

At this point I couldn’t contain my laughter and had to make sure I swallowed the rest of my drink before it went everywhere.

“Don’t get too excited, I’m only messing with you. He’s as gay as can be, Mom.”

“I assume you mean Kevin Keller then, the sheriffs son.” She shot at me, returning to her meal prep.

“Yep.” I confirmed, exiting the kitchen to retreat to my room before he picked me up in a few hours.

“You had my hopes up then, Liv!” She called after me as I strolled up the stairs, rolling my eyes at the mind of my mother.

I’m not sure why she wanted me to find a boyfriend so desperately, I partly believe it’s because she’d met my dad by now at this age. It was great that it worked out for her, but I had different plans for my life.

I collapsed back onto my bed, throwing my empty soda in can into the trash near my desk. I stared up at the ceiling of my still new room, questioning my day.

The thought of the serpent leader ignited a fire within me.

I was well aware that what was going on with FP was wrong and some poeple would probably be grossed out by it, especially Jughead. But I really felt something for him and that confused the hell out me, I’ve said many times that I have no intentions of starting a relationship or catching feelings. 

Things with us had moved fast, there was no denying it.

I couldn’t bring myself to stop it because truthfully, I didn’t want to. FP made me feel something so foreign but so good, I felt alive when I was with him. He was funny, experienced and almost as cynical as me. He was really attractive too, those dark eyes and his stubble that drove me insane.

I was afraid though, really scared of what could happen.

I was old enough to be mapping out my own life, but I didn’t want to destroy anyone elses in the process. I valued my newly found friendships, more than anything.

I must have lay on my bed for a good few hour just watching videos on my phone or idly replying to the group chat because I hopped up as I realised that Kevin would probably be here for me in the next hour.

I scrubbed all my make up so that I was able to apply a fresh lot, wanting to look atleast presentable tonight.

I applied my usual foundation, concealer and powder. Also drawing in my eyebrows and adding a coat or two of mascara, finally finishing it off with some contour, highlight and a light layer of lip oil.

Next, I moved onto my hair. I brushed it free of tangles, spraying it over with heat defence spray while I waited for my curling wand to heat up. I wasn’t feeling looking too put together so only loosely curling the blonde strands, brushing them out and fluffing them up so I was left with voluminous waves.

Satisfied with my appearance, I trawled through my wardrobe for something to wear. I settled on some grey jeans and black raglan t-shirt, pulling them on after I’d hazardously thrown my old one’s into the corner in a heap.

I rummaged through my sock drawer for some fresh ones, slipping them on and pulling my trusty converse on.

My phone vibrated from the dressing table, causing a horrible screech as it rubbed against the stained wood.

I peered down at the lit screen and saw an alert from Kevin, notifying me of his prescence outside.

I rushed to grab my bag, making sure I had my wallet and keys to get back in later, knowing that my parents would probably be asleep. Jogging down the stairs, I hurried to shove my bag on my shoulder.

“Bye!” I called out, jumping to the bottom of the stairs and landing with a thud.

“Be careful, darling!” My dad shouted out, now sitting in the kitchen with my mother as he’d probably just finished work.

“Message us if you’re staying out!” My mom yelled and I made a noise before slamming the front door behind me, racing to Kevin’s hatchback.

Jughead and Betty were already looking pretty cosy in the back, his arm thrown around her.

“Long time no see.” I nodded to them, hopping into the passenger set.

“Livv, as trenchant as ever.” Kevin articulated, putting the car into gear and pulling away.

“Have you guys heard from Archie?” Betty asked, leaning between the seats.

“He told me he’d meet us there and to save him a spot next to us, I don’t think he’s particularly pleased about having to go to thorn hill.” Kevin informed us.

“You should of heard Ronnie, she was not a happy bunny.” Jughead chucked nonchalantly.

“I can’t blame her, I wouldn’t be best pleased either.” I voiced, tutting.

“Good job you don’t have a boyfriend to worry about then.” Jug laughed, causing Betty to smack his arm.

“I’ll have you know that being single isn’t a bad thing, you were essentially Donnie Darko before Betty came along, loner.” I asserted which made Betty laugh, Jughead feigned hurt.

“You go girl!” Kevin hollared, high fiving me.

The rest of the journey was filled with more harmless banter and bad car karaoke, it died out as we arrived to the run down landmark, otherwise known as ’The Twilight Drive In’.

Kevin pulled into a designated bay that had the one next to it free, throwing the car into neautral and killing the engine.

I happily removed myself from the vehicle, choosing to leave my bag inside and only keeping my phone on me.

I stretched my legs out, cracking my back.

“What are they doing here?” Kevin asked in disgust, glancing behind me to which I followed.

My mouth almost dropped at the sight of the biker gang as they had set up ready to watch the film or more like disrupt it.

“Unbelievable.” I muttered, watching over as the Serpents trashed the area as FP stood there with a hand in the pocket of his slim jeans and a satisfied grin spread across his sculpted face.

“I told my Dad I was coming here with you guys, he asked me what movie it was and I told him. It’s funny, I never painted him as a John Hughes fan.” Jughead shrugged, helping Betty out of Kevin’s car.

“Yeah, that’s ‘cause he’s fucking not.” I grumbled under my breath, rolling my eyes at FP who’s eyes were set on me.

I scrutinized as he messed around on his phone and I wondered what he could possibly be doing until I felt my own device vibrate in my pocket.

From: FP Jones Recieved: 7:13

Meet me behind the toilets or I’ll come over

My heart started beating at his idle threat but I knew better than to challenge him because I knew that he wasn’t lying, he would come over and direct remarks towards me.

I looked up from my screen to see he’d disappeared, so I shoved my phone back into my pocket.

“I’m going to the toilet before the movie starts, nothing worse than needing the bathroom during a movie.” I excused.

“I’ll come with you, just incase the serpents start.” Betty sighed, tightening her iconic ponytail.

“Give them some credit.” Jughead defended, wearing his own leather jacket with pride.

“I’ll be fine, Betty. I can handle myself, I promise.” I assured her, obviously the last thing I wanted was for her to join me.

She stared at me suspiciously but didn’t press the situation further, only began a detailed conversation with the boys as they awaited the arrival of Archie, Veronica and Cheryl.

I shuffled off towards the bathrooms, sloping past the serpents who let out a few whistles.

With one last glance back I slipped behind the small building of the toilets, treading carefully and keeping a watchful eye out for anyone who could spot me.

I nearly jumped out of my skin as I felt arms wrap around me from behind, unsettled beneath the dim light.

“I’ve missed you, especially since you’ve chosen to ignore all of my messages today.” A familiar voice breathed into my ear, the hairs on the back of my neck rising.

I turned within the grasp of the serpent leader, coming face to face with him.

“I’ve been busy.” I lied and FP made a face at me, narrowing his dark eyes.

“Or just avoiding me.”

“Maybe.”

“I don’t like being ignored, sweetheart.” FP whispered, cupping my face in his large hands.

They were rough, like he had years of experience with them but I couldn’t help but wonder what distasteful acts they’d committed too.

He pushed me roughly against the building, kissing me hard as I responded, quickly wanting more of him.

He pulled away abruptly and I groaned at the loss of contact, my temperature dropping.

“I have gum.” He explained.

My back was still flat against the brick wall as FP discarded him gum before crushing his lips back onto mine and I immediately deepened the kiss.

His hands were tangled in my hair and mine were exploring underneath his t-shirt, I could feel his muscles tense underneath my fingertips and I can’t lie, it was a turn on.

“Come over to my place tomorrow.” FP begged me between sloppy kisses and I moved my head so he had better access to my neck.

“I can’t, I have work.” I stammered out, in complete bliss as he pulled the neck of my raglan down to reveal my collarbones.

“Then come after work.”

He sucked at the bone and I can only guess that he left a mark.

“What about Jughead?” I asked, pushing him away before he got too carried away with the hickies.

“He’s been staying with Archie again, it means he’s closer to Betty.”

“And why do you want me to come over?” I asked, staring deep into his eyes.

“Why do you think I want you to come over?” He retorted.

“I don’t do mind games, FP. You either tell me or you don’t see me, it’s simple.”

“You’re one tough cookie aren’t you?” He tormented, tilting his head downwards.

“You haven’t seen anything yet.” I taunted, leaning up to whisper in his ear and bite at his lobe.

“Are you trying to kill me?” He groaned, throwing his head back.

“There’s no doubt in my mind that you’ll see what I’m capable of tomorrow.” I ridiculed, pushing him off me so he stumbled back.

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a promise.” I threw him a sly grin before dissappearing back into the puublic eye, leaving a bewildered and speechless serpent behind.

I casually stalked back over to the group, seeing that Archie and the girls had now arrived. Archie had parked next to Kevin, with Reggie Mantle and Moose parked on the other free side.

“Liv!” Reggie hollared, whooping at me.

“What’s up, Mantle?” I grinned, fist bumping the jock.

“You know me, babe. Everything!”

I laughed half heartedly at his joke, rolling my eyes.  

“I bought snacks!” Veronica gleamed, her hands full of a variety of candy. She shared it out, it was amusing how excited all the teenagers still got at the aspect of sugar.

“You were ages in the bathroom, I thought you’d fell down the toilet or something.” Betty joked, nudging me in the side.

“There was a que.” I lied, avoiding the stare of the blonde.

“Looks pretty dead to me.”

“Well it wasn’t when I was in there, I’m going to get a soda. Want one?” I asked, hurrying to change the subject once more.

Betty nodded, heading over to her boyfriend who was currently devouring a bag of sour patch kids.

I ran my hands through my hair, heading in the direction of the food booth to get myself a drink before the movie started, hoping for no more suspicious with FP activity tonight.

I couldn’t help but wonder though, about what could happen tomorrow at FP’s place.