#will I convince one of them to bring me a sausage egg and cheese on an everything bagel then immediately leave?

[swampndn]

Lol woke up to 3 good morning texts

I am the Native Bridget Jones as my best friend and her mother have been saying 😅

But also who gonna tell these people that #1 I am very traumatized and #2 very Autistic so idk what the fuck is going on and imma be in my house

[avintagekiss24]

Night Shift > Andy Barber

PAIRING; Dark!Andy Barber x black!reader

WORD COUNT; 4,798

WARNINGS; NON-CON ELEMENTS, DUB-CON SEX, BOOK SPOILERS/POSSIBLE SHOW SPOILERS

 ► PART TWO  | ► SERIES MASTERLIST

NOTE; it’s hereeeeeee! As for the spoilers, I was trying to avoid them in this, but seeing as Andy is very obviously married in the book and show, I didn’t want this to be a cheating fic (I do have some standards, lol), but I didn’t want it to be an AU either. So, if you don’t want to know what happens in the book or what could possibly happen in the show, I’d stay away from this one. Sorry guys, I did try. I wanted the effects of what Andy has been through to be the reason why this is a dark!fic and why he’s dark!... if that makes sense.

As always, if non-con/dub-con isn’t your thing, stay away. YOU are responsible for what you consume. If you’ve made it this far in my author’s note, you’ve been warned multiple times about the nature of this fic.

It’s late. There is currently one, that’s right, one person in the South Street Diner. He ordered a black coffee and has been sipping on it for the last thirty minutes as he reads a day old newspaper. It’s weird, he’s weird, but you’re getting used to the weirdness of the overnight shift. The silence and stillness of it. 

It’s just you and Belle on the floor, with Steve manning the kitchen. Belle is currently washing dishes as you lean over the counter, your head buried in your psychology book. You tap your pencil mindlessly as you read, occasionally lifting your eyes to the black coffee drinker. He’s content, and so are you, so you return your attention back to your book, underlining random passages and jotting down notes.

The door chimes after a few minutes and you lift your eyes again but instantly lose your breath. You stand up straight as you link eyes with a tall, stern looking man. He blinks at you, his deep blue-green eyes devoid of any real emotion. His lips are set in a straight line, his shoulders broad. He’s oddly dressed for the two in the morning. A navy blue sport coat covers a dark button down shirt, which covers another dark undershirt. His jeans are dark and tight, his feet in an expensive pair of leather boots. His dark beard, paired with his dark hair and dark outfit completely matched the dark mood that suddenly overtakes the diner. 

He looks oddly familiar to you, you can’t - or don’t want to - put your finger on it. You stare at each other for a few beats. An instant chill runs down your spine as a strange uncertainty sets in the pit of your stomach. You swallow hard and point nervously towards one of the tables after a few seconds of him just staring at you and not saying anything. He immediately moves in the direction of your finger, finally taking his eye off you to stalk towards a table. 

You shut your psych book and run your hands down the front of your apron. You grab a menu and a set of silverware before stepping out from behind the long counter. You take a breath and move up to the side of the table, sliding the menu in front of him before setting the silverware next to his left wrist. 

“Morning,” you say softly, “Can I start you off with a water, or a coffee or anything?”

He doesn’t look up at you. He just flips through the menu and says, “Coffee. Black.”

You nod and offer another smile, “Be right back.”

You check on the other coffee drinker, asking if he needs a refill before you slip back behind the counter to start another pot. You flip your eyes towards Belle as she emerges by your side, tapping your hip playfully.

“You need some help babe?” She asks as she plops the bucket of clean silverware on the counter.

“No, I’m okay.”

You feel her eyes on you for a few seconds, “You okay? Did something happen?”

“No, no. I’m fine. Just, that guy over there is kinda creeping me out but, it’s me, not him.”

She peers over at his table as you set the coffee pot on the brewer. You hear her gasp, before she slaps you on your shoulder and steps into you a little closer, “Do you know who that is?” She whispers.

You shift your eyes to his table before moving them back to the short blonde, “No.”

She clicks her teeth before resting her hand on her hip, “That’s Andy Barber.”

“Okay?” You shrug, not recognizing that name.

“Girl, come on. Have you been living under a rock for the past year?”

You roll your eyes, “Did you forget I was in Dallas for the last year?”

“Bitch, this was national news. His kid was indicted for first degree murder. They found some kid's body in the park, his son Jacob’s  fingerprints were found on the kid’s jacket.”

“Oh shit.” You say in disbelief as your eyes widen, “I remember now. I thought he looked familiar.”

She shakes her head, pursing her lips as she glances back over at him, “Some crazy shit went down. Long story short, this pedo that lived in their neighborhood ended up killing himself and confessing to the murder in his suicide note. Barber’s kid gets off, but a few weeks after the trial ended, and get this,” she says, dropping her voice even lower, “The mom and the kid are out one day, get into a car accident, and they both die.”

You gasp, “Oh my god.”

“I know, right! So, you know my brother is a cop right? So, he says, that the belief in the department is that the mom wrecked her car on purpose, like she was trying to kill herself and the kid. There were no skid marks like she tried to stop, no other vehicles were involved, all of the witnesses say that it really weird how she just veered off the road suddenly.” She shakes her head again, her pony tail swaying back and forth as she starts to wrap up sets of silverware, “I think she knew little Jacob wasn’t as innocent as they were trying to make him seem.”

You rest your hand on your chest as your mind processes what Belle just relayed to you, “That’s awful Belle. I feel terrible for him.”

“Girl, don’t.” She says, “He hasn’t helped his case one bit. He’s been a raging asshole to everybody in this town ever since. He’s been arrested two or three times for beating the shit out of folks just for looking at him.”

You scoff, turning back towards the coffee maker as it beeps loudly. You take the pot off of the burner and grab two mugs before pouring the dark liquid, “I’m sure the people of this town haven’t been on their best behavior either. I mean shit, he lost his son and his wife, he’s just supposed to walk around like Mr. Rogers?”

She slaps you lightly with her towel as you walk past, “That bleeding heart of yours is gonna get you in trouble one day.”

You smile warmly as you slide one of the cups in front of the guy with the paper and then move towards your second table. You carefully sit the mug in front of him but can’t help wringing your hands within one another. 

“Are you ready to order or do you need a few more minutes?” Your voice is softer and less confident than what you anticipated. You clear your throat and force a smile onto your face to try and regain some of your composure. 

“Egg and cheese sandwiches.” He says gruffly, handing the menu back to you.

He locks eyes with you and your breath hitches in your throat. His eyes are piercing - cold even, as they stare up at you. You quickly avert your glance from his and clear your throat again as an uneasiness washes through you. You tuck a wild curl behind your ear as your eyes dart around his table. He’s still staring at you though, his eyes dipping down your face and to your chest before sending them back up to yours. 

You clear your throat again, “Um, you get a choice of a meat. Sausage, bacon, ham?”

You reach for the menu that he still holds in his hands and start to pull it from him. He tightens his grip on it, causing you to shoot your scared eyes back to his. Your lips part as shaky breaths force their way out of your nose and mouth. Your eyes get wide as you stare back at him, unable to blink or take them off of him. He cocks his head, his eyes drifting down your body again before the smallest hint of a smirk flashes on his lips. 

He lets go of the menu suddenly and your hand snaps back towards your chest. You hiss sharply as you jump, completely unaware of just how hard you were grasping on to it. 

“Bacon.” Is all he mutters before he grabs for his coffee and takes a sip. 

You don’t even answer. You just turn on your heel and rush back behind the counter. You push past Belle, who gives you her I told you so eyes and relay his order to Steve.

“Didn’t I tell you?”

“Shut up, Belle.”

When his sandwiches are ready, you convince Belle to take them over to him. You start wrapping up silverware sets behind the counter, purposefully trying to keep your eyes cast down, but even that doesn’t help. You still feel his eyes on you as he eats slowly. You swallow hard, trying to focus, but the unease flushes through you again. 

You can’t help but glance up at him every now and again, finding his intense stare on you. He doesn’t even look away when you catch him. He just blinks slowly and raises his sandwich to his mouth, taking a bite. He leans back into the seat and chews slowly, all the while blinking back at you. You drop your eyes to the silverware in front of you and chew on the inside of your cheek. Just eat your fucking sandwiches and leave already.

Belle takes care of him for the rest of his stay. She refills his coffee and brings him a glass of water, before putting in another order of home fries for him. You do everything you can to stay busy and ignore him, and when you finally see him hand Belle some cash and stand, a sense of relief floods through every inch of your body. 

You hear his heavy feet carry him past the counter and your eyes defy your mind one last time. You flip them up and watch as he pushes out of the door, the chime ringing through the small diner again. You follow him as he walks past the windows, his head down as he moves. You blink and turn your head quickly as a loud clang sounds behind you. You return your attention back to the window and gasp loudly when you find him watching you through the window. 

You drop the silverware in your hand to the floor as he stares at you. He cocks his head again and lifts his hand to wiggle his fingers at you as a slow smile creeps on to his face. 

“Girl,” Belle says, pushing through the door from the kitchen, “What is wrong with you?”

You keep your eyes on him as he walks off into the night. You shake your head and blink quickly, as if trying to rid him from your memory, “N-nothing. I just dropped, um, I just dropped some forks, that’s all.”

She pulls out a twenty from her apron and hands it to you, “This is from your boyfriend, by the way.”

“What?” You ask, slightly annoyed as she laughs and pushes it into your hand.

“Mr. Barber left you a tip.”

“Belle,” You sigh.

“I mean it! He told me specifically to give it to you.” She tickles your sides but you swat her hands away, “He liked you.”

“Shut the hell up.” You grumble as she continues to laugh. 

The clock strikes three thirty am. You grab the plate of french fries that Steve made for you and pour yourself a Sprite before you head out the back and into the parking lot. You glance around, like you usually do, making sure there aren’t any weirdos hanging out before you push over towards your car. You set your Sprite and fries on the hood as you fumble around your jacket pocket for your keys.

You gasp suddenly as an arm wraps around your waist and a hand clasps over your mouth. You start to fight, trying to twist and turn but it’s to no avail. He pulls you with ease as you struggle against him back to his car, his feet scraping against the ground. You hear a door swing open, before you’re thrown into the back seat. You push up onto your hands and scramble towards the opposite door, slamming your back into it. 

The man slides into the seat next to you and slams the door shut before the deafening sound of the locks slamming down into place rings through the car. Your chest heaves as deep, audible breaths fall from your lips and fill the otherwise silent car. You keep your eyes squarely on him as they cloud over with tears and your chin starts to tremble. 

“Please don’t hurt me,” you beg softly as a hot tear slips down your cheek, “I’m not alone. There’s people in there that’ll-”

Your words come to a halt. He doesn’t move. He just sits there, his hands clasped within one another, his head down. Your breathing gets harder after a few minutes pass and nothing happens. He lifts his head and you tense immediately, pulling your legs into your chest, but he still doesn’t move. He bites the inside of his cheek as he stares out of the window.

“I’m not gonna hurt you.”

His voice is low and deep, the words coming to you slowly. Your mouth drops open slightly as your eyes scan the side of his face. He drops his head again to look at his hands before he turns towards you. You lock eyes with an all too familiar pair. Andy Barber stares back at you, but unlike earlier, there’s something brewing in them. Sadness maybe… you aren’t sure. 

“I just hate the fucking way people look at me,” he says after a few tense seconds, “You’re scared of me? I scare you?”

You blink and another tear slips down your cheek, “You just grabbed me and pulled me into your car.”

“Before this.” He rushes, “When I walked into the diner. When you took my order… You took one look at me and already had your mind made up.”

“I-”

“I heard you and that little bitch in there,” he cuts you off, “I never killed anybody, but yet, people look at me like I’m a monster. Like I’m the one that killed that boy.”

“I defended you,” you spit back roughly, your body twitching in fear, “I told her what happened to you was awful, so you didn’t hear everything you thought you did.”

He stares you, his eyes searching yours intently like he’s trying to tell if you’re telling him the truth. They bounce around your face, making several stops at your lips before he speaks again, “Then why are you afraid of me?” He asks slowly.

You glance away from him for the first time in several minutes. Your breaths are still heavy, your eyes still watery, but something inside of you starts to shift, “You’re intimidating.”

You lift your eyes back to his in time to see him smile, but it’s not a happy one or deranged. It’s kinda sad. He scoffs before he looks off out of the window again, “I never in my life had someone tell me I was intimidating, you know that? In fact, people used to tell me that I was one of the easiest people they’d ever spoken to.” He looks back at you and smiles again, “I prided myself on that. I liked that about me.” He drops his head again, “But that was before. Now I’m just some angry, intimidating asshole who raised a murderer and drove his wife to wrap her car around a tree.”

You sit in shock as he mumbles more to himself than to you. Why is he telling you this? Maybe he just needs someone to talk to? Why you, a random waitress at an all night diner? Belle was right, your bleeding heart is going to get you in serious trouble. But, as he talks, you start to feel bad for him all over again. He’s not coping well, obviously. He’s yearning for some human interaction - but also needs to realize that throwing someone in the back of your car and locking them in isn’t the best way to ask for a little attention.

You relax just a bit, not enough to be caught off guard, but enough to where your breathing starts to return to normal. You drag your eyes down his frame, taking in the defeated language written all over it. He brings his head back up and turns those eyes back towards yours to link them again. He blinks, and you blink back before you swallow hard.

“You were trying to scare me.” You say weakly, “The menu, staring at me through the window… people treat you like an asshole because you act like an asshole.”

He huffs, but a smile spreads on his lips again, “That’s why I can’t get a date then?”

A shiver runs through you and your body twitches again, “Possibly.” You enunciate slowly.

He laughs at your response. It’s a full laugh, like one he’s been holding in for a while. He drags his hands up his thigh and cuts his eyes back towards you, “I like you. Even when you’re scared, you’ve got heart.”

You stare at each other again as the seconds tick by. Then, without warning, he lunges towards you, crashing his lips to yours. He kisses you hard as he pulls your body into his, holding your arms as you try to push him away. You turn your head in protest, moaning loudly against his mouth as you try and push away but he’s so strong. He tightens his grip on your arms, holding them firmly in his grasp as he smacks on your lips. 

He leans back as suddenly as he first rushed in and locks eyes with you again. They’re wide and wild - bouncing quickly between yours. His mouth hangs open as he pulls in deep breaths. His grip on your arm loosens just a touch and you rip your limb from his grasp, slapping him hard across the face. 

You don’t try to run. You just sit there, your hand stinging from the contact with his face. Your eyes are just as wide, just as wild as he hisses in pain. He swears loudly as he drops open his mouth, working his jaw back and forth before he shakes his head quickly. He looks back up at you, another short, breathy laugh pushing through his lips.

He pulls you into him again and kisses you, but this time, you really don’t fight back. You moan a little as he pushes his chest into yours and thrusts his tongue into your mouth. You allow him to push you down onto the seat and let him settle between your legs. Your mind races as his hands push and pull at your body, squeezing your breasts, gripping your sides, cupping your sex through your jeans. You're shaky and scared, but yet, you’re not. Your stomach is tight, your nipples hard, your pussy now wet and achy, wanting to be touched.

Your heart thumps against your chest as he bites down on your neck. You shriek as the pain rips through you and dig your fingernails into his arm. He leans up and keeps his eyes on yours as he pops the button of your jeans. He undoes the zipper and yanks the thick material down your hips and legs until they bunch at your ankles. He pulls at the buttons of your pale yellow shirt carefully, undoing each one before it falls open, revealing your white tank top. He thrusts it up over your breasts and pulls at the cups of your bra until your breasts fall out of it. 

He drops his hands to his sides and just looks you up and down, drinking you in. He spreads his fingers out over your stomach and just sort of rubs them along your skin -  he hasn’t felt the warmth of a woman in a long time. He fingers dance down to your panties, tracing them with his index finger from hip to hip. He then slides his finger down your slit slowly, feeling your wetness through the silk. 

He continues running his finger the length of your pussy and lifts his eyes back to yours. He pushes his hand underneath the material and drags his fingers through your folds. He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth when you shiver and the smallest, daintiest moan sneaks out through your lips. He coats his fingers with your natural lubricant and then brings them to his nose, taking a deep whiff, letting your scent fill his head. 

“God, you smell good.” He mutters.

His words are slurred, like he’s gotten drunk off of your smell. You watch as he rubs his cock through his jeans, pushing his hips into his hand slightly. Your breath starts to rush faster as you watch him, your cunt tightening at the sight. You reach forward and wrap your fingers around his thigh. 

You watch as he pops the button to his jeans and pulls the zipper down. He slides his jeans down his hips, pulling his hard cock free. He starts stroking himself as he returns his gaze to you. He palms your right breast in his free hand, squeezing your flesh firmly as he sweeps his fingers over the head of his cock before he slides his palm back down his thick shaft. A drop of cum spills from his slit and splashes against your stomach as he hand fucks himself above you. 

He moans again and releases your breast from his hand to pull at your panties. He pushes them down your thighs and leans down over you, letting the tip of his cock graze against your heat. He slips his dick through your folds and runs it the length of your clit and your opening, making you squirm underneath him. 

You grab his forearms as he starts to push at your slit, his cock finally breaking into you. You gasp and hiss as his girth spreads you open. You lift your hips, twisting them slightly as you slam your eyes closed. He’s easily the biggest you’ve encountered in your short years. It hurts - but in a good way. 

“Fuck,” he growls as he pulls out of you and then pushes back in, “Goddamn, baby. This is fuckin’,” his garbled words are fast and airy, not really making sense as they drop away.

You lick your lips as his hips dip into yours over and over and over again. Your wet muscles envelope him firmly, stretching and flexing with each of his thrusts, driving your octave higher and higher. He fucks you slow - like he’s savoring it- wanting to etch the feeling of your pussy into his skin so it’ll last him another year. 

Each push of his hips feels better and better, little explosions erupting throughout your body. You can hear how wet you are, the squish of his flesh pushing into you filling the car. You don’t ever remember feeling like this. The fear, the anxiety - the lust - all mixing and melting together, creating a weird sexual concoction. You feel like you’re high - slightly nauseous and completely out of control, but you look forward to what comes next. 

His thrusts get harder and deeper, faster as the minutes roll by. You gaze up at his eyes that have closed into slits. His mouth hangs open as quick, light puffs of air push out onto your face. He drops his head, his beard scratching your chin and lips. He smells good - clean, expensive. It grounds him for you, makes him human. It gives you a glimpse into the man he used to be. 

He falls on top of you, crushing his chest to yours as he grabs onto the ends of your naturally curly hair. He pulls hard, and you grunt as pain rips through your scalp. He starts to grunt as he pushes roughly into your body, his hips starting to falter.  He sucks your breast into his mouth, teasing your thick nipple with his tongue. He then moves to your chin, biting down on softly before he returns to your thick lips. 

He kisses you again. He smacks on your lips, pulling your bottom lip with his teeth before he lets it smack back against your face. He continues to nibble on your lips as he fucks into you as hard as he can, mumbling dirty epithets into your mouth as he tries to get himself off. 

You can feel the dull pull in your stomach and each slam of his hips into yours brings your orgasm closer and closer to the surface. You start to whine, digging your nails into his back as your legs start to shake. He fucks into once, twice, three more times and your orgasm flushes through you. Your toes curl, your breath hitches, your eyes slam shut as it rips a path through your body. 

Your pussy quakes and contracts around him, pulling out a deep, long grunt from him. Within seconds, you’re full of his spunk. Long, hot ribbons spill from his slit and coat your walls as he continues to pump his hips through it. You squeeze your muscles around him as he comes, wanting every last drop, every last string of silk. 

He drops his forehead to yours as his hot breath washes over your face. He focuses his breathing, pushing it purposefully out through his teeth before he drags in another deep breath. Before you can get used to his weight on top of you, he pushes up and away from you. He pulls out of you unceremoniously and falls back into the seat next to you. 

Embarrassment instantly flushes through you - your body warms, your eyes start to dart around the car as you reach for your panties and jeans. You sit up and readjust your breasts into your bra before nervously pushing your tank top back down. You cast your eyes to your shaky hands as your button up your shirt and then cross your arms over your chest, sinking into yourself. 

You feel like he’s mad at you or something, disgusted with you now that it’s over. You feel stupid for feeling bad for him. He is just a fucking asshole. He pushes open the door and slides out, waiting by the back of his car for you to emerge. You get out slowly, keeping your eyes away from his as you cross your arms over your chest protectively again. You jump when he slams the door shut to the black Audi and crosses behind it towards the drivers side without a word. 

You take a step back as the car roars to life and the reverse lights light up the dark parking lot. Your eyes water again as he backs out of the spot and drives off, without a second glance. You stand there in shock. You stare at his car as the break lights get smaller and smaller and then finally disappear. You blink into the darkness as your mind races. Your phone vibrates in your pocket, dragging you back into the present. You pull it out, and the time flashes against your screen. Break’s over. 

You drag your body back to your car, grabbing the cold french fries and watered down Sprite off of the roof. You toss the items into the garbage and push back into the small diner, swallowing hard as you make a b-line for the bathroom before anyone can notice you. You turn on the water and splash your face a few times before you wipe the droplets away. Your eyes are red and a little puffy, but it’s cold outside, you can use that and your seasonal allergies as an excuse. 

You take a final deep breath before running your hand over your hair, smoothing it down. You blink back at yourself in the mirror and then turn on your heel and move back out onto the floor. 

“You okay?” Belle asks.

You smile and nod, “Yeah, it’s cold as fuck outside.”

“Ugh, I know. I hate winter. I’m gonna take a quick smoke, okay? Be back in a flash.”

You just nod and smile again, grabbing a towel before walking out towards the tables and booths. Every time you start to think about what just happened, you push it away, zeroing your focus in on cleaning the table tops. You think about school. You think about getting home and taking a shower before climbing into bed. You think about the assignments you have due tomorrow. You won’t think about Andy Barber again. 

You’ll never see Andy Barber again.

Until you do.

[iamdunn]

Miraculous Flash Forward Part 11: Something Missing

A Miraculous Fan Fic

Written by

AJ Dunn

Adrien didn’t get much time to spend with Marinette during her first week here as she thrust herself into preparing for the Fashion show. She wanted to make it perfect as Felix was counting on her. Adrien didn’t like her working so hard to impress his twin brother/cousin, but it made her happy to be doing what she loved and Felix was giving her every reason the G brand had to offer. 

It was easier to refer to it as the G brand rather than change all of the insignia from the Gabriel Brand to the Graham De Vanily insignia, considering there wasn’t one. However, now the G brand was featuring the Marinette label. It made a lot of the Shanghai designers jealous but they got over it quickly when they met Marinette and her kind-hearted always helping everyone else persona. Adrien was proud of her, but he was still waiting for his cousin to leave at the end of the week so he could have her to himself. 

“So what are we having for dinner tonight?” Marinette propped herself up on the stool as Adrien worked in the kitchen. “Another Cheng specialty?” she mused.

“Breakfast actually.” He cracked several eggs into a bowl, added some spices, chives, and scallions then whisked them together. He poured it over a hot skillet that he had melted butter onto. The eggs hardened slowly as he layered the egg with nori and sliced cheese. He then began rolling the square egg until it looked like a pinwheel sandwich and sliced it just the same. He separated the pieces onto three plates, then added some sausages that he had sliced to look like little squids, and a scoop of rice topped with sweet & sour sauce. He set the three plates on the counter then turned back around to hang up his apron. He moved some bowls to the sink and accidentally splashed liquid egg onto his shirt. 

“Damn,” he said stripping his shirt off without thinking about it. His back was turned to Marinette but he could feel the heat in his face as he turned and left the kitchen without looking at her. He got a clean shirt from the drawer in his closet and returned to the kitchen. Felix was already sitting next to her on her right so Adrien sat on her left. “How is it?”

“I’m inclined to stay another week if you keep cooking like this, brother.” Felix had grown accustomed to calling him that and now in front of Marinette who didn’t seem fazed by it, it was normal between the two of them. Adrien watched as Marinette toyed with her food lazily. He picked up his chopsticks and grabbed one of her sausages and shoved it into her mouth. The legs of it still hanging out of her lips as she turned to him in shock. Adrien and Felix began to laugh. The sausage quickly disappeared into her mouth as he cheeks lit up. 

“What was that for.” She choked as she swallowed the sausage.

“You need to eat, you have been running yourself ragged all week.” Adrien chastised. 

“What about you, up before the sun, gone before me, and you still make dinner.” Marinette pouted.

“Just want to make sure my princess is well taken care of.” Adrien smiled. 

“My plane leaves early I better get to bed.” Felix finished the last bite of his tamagoyaki the set his plate on the counter. 

“You can clean up if it means that much to you.” Adrien offered. Marinette smiled and began to eat her food unassisted. 

“Okay, I will.” Marinette finished her food and began rinsing the dishes and loading them into the dishwasher. Adrien watched her for a minute then went to the couch and turned on the television. He must have fallen asleep because he woke up to Marinette sitting on her knees in front of him. 

“See, this is what I am talking about.” She stood up taking his hand with her as if she could lift him from the couch herself. He moved his body to her command as she guided him to his room. He stumbled lazily behind her. Once in his room, he allowed him to fall onto his bed. He held onto her hand as she tried to leave the room. One tiny tug and she was laying on top of him, her face inches from his. He smiled coyly at her as he wrapped his arms around her then rolled to the side nesting his face into her neck. He pretended to snore as she attempted to wrestle out of his grip.

“You are not sleeping you goof.” she laughed, her struggles were in vain. His grip held her arms to her sides. He was safe until he wasn’t. 

“What are you doing?” he looked up at her in concern as her fingers began a blind exploration of the tiny hairs circling his navel. “Hey now, stop it, come one what are you doing.” He laughed uncontrollably as her fingers tickled the skin on his belly and crept to his side. He didn’t want to let go, but he didn’t know how much more he could take. He released one arm grabbing the invading hand. It was enough to give her an advantage as she threw a leg over his rolling body until she was sitting on his belly with his arms pinned to his side by her legs. She continued the invasion of tickles on his side as his shirt lifted nearly to his chest. He lifted her bottom up with his arms as she fell forward catching herself by dropping her hands on either side of his head. 

It had been enough to free his arms so he could grab her face bringing it in for a kiss. Before their lips could meet, they heard a cough at the door.

“Should I be recording this?” Felix asked, annoyed. “I mean you did leave your door open, maybe it’s an invitation to join, a … free for all?” Adrien threw a pillow at him. Felix threw it back hitting Marinette who grabbed it then leaped off the bed to hit him with it. Felix wrestled it out of her hands and beamed her on the head. Running for cover as Adrien came at him with another pillow. Marinette was left without a weapon and the boys now blocking her escape. The boys smacked each other around for a few minutes before Felix finally surrendered tossing his pillow to Marinette then headed back to his room.

“You guys are too much,” he said laughing. Marinette gave Adrien one last swat with the pillow as she marched past him. He grabbed her arms pulling her back to him as he kissed her lips gently then released her.

“Good night purrrincess.” Her face lit up 

“Good night, kitty,” she whispered, then went to bed. Adrien couldn’t stop thinking about how comfy it had been holding her on his bed and wondered how it might have been if she had been holding him back. He fell asleep with that feeling in his mind. 

Felix was gone before Adrien got up. He went into the bathroom to take a shower still groggy from yesterday. He didn’t want to hire a chef to cook for them, but he worked a lot and so did she, he also didn’t want to have to eat out all of the time. So for now, he would agree to rotate kitchen duty with her. 

Adrien stepped out of the shower grabbing his towel to dry his face when he realized he hadn’t brought in any clothes. 

“She’s probably still asleep.” He breathed to himself. He finished drying off then wrapped the towel around his waist and left the bathroom. To his surprise, Marinette was already in the hall dressed and now frozen in place right in front of the bathroom door. Part of him wanted to rush to his bedroom, part of him was as frozen as she was but the larger and more boisterous part of him wanted to take advantage of the situation. 

“Good Morning Princess.” He wrapped his wet arm around her waist pulled her closer with one arm as his other hand held her face as he placed a loving kiss on her lips. She melted into him as he knew she would. He released her and left her on the landing as he returned to his bedroom. His heart throttling in his chest as he leaned against his closed-door panting trying to catch his breath. He could hear a dozen tiny voices laughing from the hall. He listened until he could hear Marinette squeal before she slowly walked downstairs. He smiled and shook his head. 

“Adrien.” Felix had called him “I am at the airport there has been a change of plans.” Adrien had only just gotten dressed and was about to head downstairs. “Hold off on telling her please, Emelie and Amalie want you two to come to London, I am heading there myself.” 

“Why?” 

“They’re our moms, why else?” Felix didn’t sound convinced himself. “Emelie had something about signing the Agrest Mansion over to you, and staying with Amalie.”

“I’m not dragging Marinette all the way to London just for that,” Adrien said. “Besides, I still have a lot to process about all of this.”

“Emelie has made a full recovery,” Felix said “She wants to see her son, she needs to know what happened and why you are avoiding her.” 

“I’m….I’m not ready to see her.” Adrien thought to himself. “It’s just that, She was dead, I mourned her, I recovered.”

“That wasn’t her, that was…” Felix stopped, talking about Gabriel had been hard on both of them over the past year, more so since Amalie confessed to them their true parentage. 

“How do we know that she didn’t end up in that coma the same way Nathalie ended up getting sick, she had the same symptoms.” Adrien had often wondered if using the Peacock miraculous had caused his mother’s condition. Nathalie had confessed that it was damaged while she was using it. 

“Go talk to her,” Felix said. “I have to go, my flight is boarding.” He hung up the phone and went downstairs. Marinette was in the kitchen making breakfast. Adrien could smell something in the oven baking, how did she have time to bake something.

“What’s for breakfast?” He said, taking his seat at the counter.

“Biscuits and gravy.” She said, mixing a pot on the stove.

“How…. did you?” His eyebrows narrowed as he scrutinized her. “Did Tikki help you?”

“I mixed up the batter last night and dropped the biscuits this morning, the sausage gravy is the easy part.” She pulled the pan from the oven then flipped a biscuit onto two plates then spooned the thick sausage gravy over them both. 

“I was thinking if you want me to…” Adrien took a bite. She handed him a glass of orange juice then sat down next to him. “I could hire someone to come in and either cook or clean up for us.” 

“Pfft, what for?” She said as she began to eat. “Besides, we need to get used to it being just the two of us here, we also have waaaay too many secrets to trust just anyone in.” She wasn’t wrong, while Plagg and Tikki were always with them, the rest of the miracle box was safely hidden in her bedroom. Yet the Kwami’s were free to roam the apartment as long as they stayed unseen by anyone but them. 

“Marinette?” there is something we need to talk about.” Adrien gulped. She set her fork down as he watched her eyes looking back at him with concern. It was as if she could read his thoughts.

“What is it?” 

“It’s kind of about Me and Felix, but it’s kind of also about my mom, or should I say moms.” He turned his head away. This was a lot more difficult to say. 

“As in plural?” she sounded confused.

“Felix and I are twins, and Amalie is our mom.” Adrien announced then shoveled food into his mouth.

“Oh, well that explains a few things and makes a lot of sense.” Marinette seemed to understand something he didn’t. “I mean, after her first pregnancy she couldn’t have any more kids, and that was way before our time.” 

“Wait, what are you talking about?” Adrien dropped his fork unsure of where it landed. His head began to spin. 

“I know we never talk about your sisters, because no one really knows what happened one minute they were there, and the next…”

“I don’t know what to say, how do you know so much about my family?” Adrien had no idea what she was talking about. He decided to play along. 

“You know I used to be a huge fan of the Gabriel Brand, I thought I knew everything about him.”  She paused to take a bite. “His wife, his twin daughters who looked just like her. And how one day, they were just gone. I remember reading a news article that said wanted to move on and not think about what happened to his ‘little angels’. 

“When was this?” 

“I think I was ten when I read that article.” she picked up her phone and typed something into the search bar. “There hasn’t been another mention of them since.” She held up the article on her phone. A picture of a set of twin girls in their early teens posing for the camera appeared under a headline, The Agreste Twins Were Lost At Sea. He read the article. He remembered the yacht that his father used to own and how they were hit by a massive storm, he had survived with his parents but the yacht went down.

“I’m sorry you must miss them.” Marinette placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“We have to go to London.” His voice was ragged as he spoke. His whole body shook as he stared at the article. He sent it to Felix then handed her phone back. 

His phone rang as he was packing his overnight bag, Had insisted that Marinette go with, though he felt bad dragging her into the drama of his family. 

“Marinette sent me an article I think you should see.” Felix said. 

“It was me, she showed it to me on her phone, so I sent it to you.” 

“We need to talk about this.” Felix wasn’t wrong.

“We are heading to the airport, we’ll talk when I get there.” Adrien hung up the phone and headed to Marinette’s room. She was scrambling around trying to figure out what to pack. 

“Is this a Marinette thing or are all girls chaotic when packing for a weekend trip?” He laughed at her. His laughter was met with a Cat Noir pillow to the face. 

“I’m going to be meeting your mother…” She turned around looking at him confused. “Mothers?” 

“Amalie is our biological mother, but Emelie is my mother.” He said. It was weird how she was more accepting of this new dynamic than even he or Felix were. “Don’t be nervous, I mean, I am but it’s only because I haven’t seen her… or I mean see her awake all of these years.” 

“It’s just the first time…” Marinette blushed

“If she doesn’t like you then we leave.” Adrien said flatly. 

Adrien’s nerves were on edge even more as they exited the plane. He saw Felix standing near the baggage claim. He had convinced Marinette to only take one bag of clothes because he didn’t expect to stay very long and would carry her back if he had to.

They carried their bags to the car Felix had waiting. The driver took their bags as they climbed into the back seat. 

“How much does she know?” Felix asked dryly. He took a deep breath preparing himself.

“That we are twins…” Adrien started. “That Amalie and Gabriel are our parents.” 

“Anything else.” 

“Gabriel and Emilie had a set of twin girls.” Marinette added. “Emilie couldn’t have any more after that.” 

“You know something we didn’t, how odd.” Felix said. “How do we not remember them, Adrien.” 

“Given that we now know Gabriel was Hawk Moth we can only assume he used his powers to erase everyone’s memory of them.” Adrien guessed. 

“How would he do that?” Felix was still ignorant to the intimate knowledge Adrien and Marinette had to Hawk Moth’s powers. 

“Remember that one time, we were on a school trip and an akumatized victim was erasing people’s memory.” Marinette pitched in. 

“Right, he could have sent one back then to erase everyone’s memory who knew about them.” Adrien added.

“Then how did Marinette know?” Felix asked.

“Who would expect a ten year old girl to be so invested in the Agreste family.” She shrugged. “I was always a huge fan of his before...you know.” she tucked her hair behind her ear as Adrien threw his arm over her shoulder. He could tell she was getting nervous, especially talking about Hawk Moth, it had been primarily the two of them to finally defeat him after years of battling his victims.

“But, why would he want to erase everyone’s memory of them?” Felix wondered. 

“I guess we’ll have to ask them about it, yeah?” Adrien said as the car pulled up to the Graham De Vanily Manor. 

[viking-raider]

Bound Pt. 2

Summary: You and Henry have been arranged to be married, by each other’s parents, in a month. While You have a crush on Henry, you don’t really love him, and Henry is actually head over heels in love with you. But, with no real other choice, both of you try and make the most out of the situation. Henry’s willing to do anything to earn you, and you are finding yourself falling in love with him, after all.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count: 2,995

Rating: G! Fluff, Disappointment, Kal Cuteness, Teasing

Inspiration: This is a second part to Bound Pt.1, that was requested by an anon.

Author’s Note: This is the, obvious, second part of Bound. The first part got a really good reception and reviews, and it’s an interesting plot and idea. There will most likely a few other parts to the story as well. I’m also going to post it on Ao3, if you’re interested in any of the work I have on Ao3, here’s a link to: Dragon_Dweller!

Tag List: @jennylovelyheart, @peakygroupie, @jessevans @MITZWINCHESTER @rosie-loves-things, @ohjules, @mary-ann84, @omgkatinka, @hm-fck, @the-freak-cassie-131, @heelsamizayn, @agniavateira, @cap-barnes, @romyr4, @michelehansel, @katiebriggs004-blog @p3nny4urth0ught5, @severuined, @royallylazy​, @thisisntmyrightera​, @rizeandvibe​, @authentic-bish-face​

You woke up to the smell of food, followed it downstairs and found Henry standing in your kitchen, in just his sweats as he cooked breakfast at stove. You cocked an eyebrow at his broad and muscular back, smirking as you listened to him hum as he cooked.

“Morning.” You greeted him, slipping into the seat at the island.

“Morning.” Henry grinned over his shoulder at you.

“How long have you been awake?” You asked, rubbing at the sleep still in your eyes.

“About two hours.” He answered, moving over to your dish cabinet and pulled down a pair of plates. “I did my fasted cardio run, then went to the store to pick up stuff for breakfast, seeing as you don't have food in the house.” He told you, loading up one of the plates and setting it down in front of you. “One sausage and cheese omelet, for the lovely lady.” He smiled, loading up his own plate next. “Steak and scrambled eggs for me.”

“How do you manage to remember what I like to eat?” You asked, taking the fork he offered you.

“I'm Superman,” Henry laughed, sitting at the island with you. “I have an eidetic memory.”

You laughed around your mouthful of omelet, grinning brightly at him. “Well, Superman.” You said, swallowing. “You make a mean omelet.” You complimented him, shoveling in another bite of your breakfast.

“Thank you.” Henry grinned, proudly. “You know, you kissed me last night.” He said, collecting a bite of steak and egg on his fork, and glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“I also used you as a body pillow,” You added, finishing off your breakfast. “and allowed you to call me, your wife.” You took Henry's empty plate and fork with yours to the sink.

“So, does that mean you're taking my deal into consideration?” He asked, resting his elbows on the counter and watched you wash the dishes.

“Well,” You sighed, rinsing the plate. “Part of the deal was getting me to kiss you of, my own free well, that was one part of the deal you offered me, was it not?” You asked, moving to wash the other plate.

“It was.” Henry nodded, nervous and excited butterflies in his full stomach.

“And I did.” You told him, looking over your shoulder at him. “So, that means you have the next year to fully woo me, Mr. Cavill.” You grinned, impishly at him, seeing his nervousness.

“And woo you, I will, Mrs. Cavill.” He grinned back, mischievously.

You blushed wildly, giggling nervously and turned back to the dishes. Henry sat at the island and watched you wash, dry and put the dishes away with a deep sense of peace and contentment. It was nice to relax and watch someone you love so much do something so simple and domestic as washing the dishes, it wasn't something Henry had the privilege to witness often, not with his work schedule and relationship luck.

“How's your leg feeling?” He asked, snapping out of his daze, seeing you still limping a bit after the paintball accident the day before.

“A lot better than it was yesterday.” You replied, standing on tip toe to put the last plate away. “I can, at least, walk on it without a whole lot of pain. There's a wicked bruise.” You told him, moving around the island and pulling up the leg of your pants, showing Henry the large, multi-colored bruise on your knee.

“That's nasty.” Henry frowned at it, lightly touching it with the tips of his fingers.

“It's nothing I haven't dealt with before.” You told him, rolling your pant leg back down. “I've had a million times worse, it comes with the action sports life.”

“That worries me.” Henry said, watching you limp into the living room.

“Name of the game, love.” You called out to him. “I'm not changing jobs, and nothing will ever make me, so you'll just have to deal with it.”

“I'd never ask that of you, y/n,” he told you, joining you on the couch. “Your passion for your job goes even beyond my passion for acting, and I'd never want you to give up something that makes you so happy.” He laid his hand gently on your leg, above your injured knee and massaged it.

“You know, if you tell my parents that, they'd probably get rid of the contract.” You laughed, relaxing. “They've tried to get me out of it, since I started.”

“Probably think getting married would make you an obedient, stay at home, wife.” He giggled with you, grinning.

“Stay at home and obedient, have never and will never, be in my list of descriptions.” You told him, giving him a wink.

“Good.” Henry nodded, a bit serious. “I don't want a 1950's house wife, though coming home to a home cooked meal is always nice.”

“Cooking is easy.” You rolled your eyes, playfully. “I just don't bother, since I'm the only one in the house, usually. But, since we'll be together, I can cook for you, if you're a good boy.” You teased him, resting your shoulder against his.

“I'm always a good boy.” Henry grinned back at you, reaching out to brush his hand through your hair, tucking it behind your ear. “What are your plans for today?”

“Um,” You sighed, feeling his fingers brush your cheek and scalp, flustering your brain. “I have my Orthopedic appointment this afternoon, then I just need to do my homework for my Forensic Anthropology class.” You told him, chewing on the inside of your cheek and looking into his blue eyes.

“You mind if, I bring Kal over?” He asked, lifting an eyebrow at you.

You gave him a 'are you kidding' expression. “You think, I'd mind you bringing the big gorgeous Bear over here?” You chided him, lightly, shaking your head. “I swear, it's like you don't know me at all.”

“I'm sure, if you had the chance to marry him, instead of me, you would.” Henry smirked, with only the slightest hint of jealousy.

“I'd have married him, the minute I found out.” You grinned, teasing him about it. “But, I guess, I'll take the next big and gorgeous Bear.” You added, leaning in to kiss Henry on the cheek.

You and Henry talked for a little while longer, agreeing that Kal was more than welcome in your house, and that you were alright with Henry staying with you as well, before you went upstairs to take a shower and get dressed for the day. You worked on your homework, while Henry went out to grab Kal and his clothes, then contently did your homework with Kal curled up on the couch with you, his big head resting on your thigh as your laptop was balanced on your other thigh, typing mindlessly. When your doctor's appointment finally came around, Henry had convinced you into letting him go with you. He sat in the waiting room with you, and stayed there when you were called back.

“Who's the handsome man?” the Nurse asked as she took you back, but you could tell from her expression she was well aware of who Henry was.

“He's...” You started, then paused, what was Henry exactly to you now? “He's my...fiancé.” You told her, feeling the oddity of saying it.

“Oh, congratulations!” She beamed at you, taking your vitals. “When are the two of your getting married?” She asked.

“Very soon.” You answered, not meeting her eye.

She congratulated you again, before leaving you alone in the room, so you could wait for your doctor to come in and see you. When you finished the appointment, the nurse showed you back out to the waiting room, giving you the details on when to make another follow up appointment with them, and congratulated Henry, before going to receive the next patient.

“What was that all about?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

“She asked me, what you were to me.” You told him, cranky.

“And you told her what?”

“The only thing that made any sense at the moment.” You told him, getting into the car. “That you're my fiancé.” You added, as he got into the car with you.

Henry beamed at you, stomach flipping at the word as you said it. “That's cute.” He told you, licking his lips. “Fiancée.” He let it roll off his tongue, still grinning like a bandit.

“Yes, lovely word for you.” You growled at him, staring out the window.

His grinned slowly turned downward, seeing the expression on your face. “What happened, y/n?” He asked, resting his hand, supportively, on your thigh.

“He didn't clear me.” You whispered, sighing and resting your forehead against the window. “So, I'm not going to the Olympics next month.”

“Is it because of what Luke did?” He asked, concerned.

“No, but it didn't help.” You told him, deflated and depressed, you'd worked so hard to get cleared, only to have it ripped away from you. “I have to go back in three months, then, hopefully have him clear me in time for Beijing.”

“You'll get there, y/n.” Henry told you, squeezing your thigh. “I believe in you.” He added in a whisper.

You looked at him, seeing the expression on his face, he really did believe in you. You could see how much he believed in you, the amount of loving support in his eyes, the comforting way he rubbed your thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze every now and then. Henry was just as upset and disappointed you hadn't being cleared and able to go to the X Game, as you were. He knew how much you wanted it, and wanted it just as much for you. He was one of the few people in your life, that wasn't in the same career you were in, that honestly supported your want and love to do it, and it felt nice to have his support. You rested your hand on top of his as he squeezed your thigh again, squeezing his hand back.

“Thank you, Henry.” You whispered back, giving him a small smile.

“You're welcome, my wife.” He grinned back, turning his hand to hold yours.

“Oh, dear lord.” You giggled, shaking your head and blushing. “I'm going to regret letting you call me that.”

“It's very likely.” Henry laughed back. “I'm not going to let you forget, you calling me your fiancé either.” He added, pulling into a store parking lot.

“Just don't say either, in front of my parents, huh.” You warned him, getting out of the car to follow him inside.

“Not until, after the wedding.” He promised, grabbing a shopping cart. “I promise.” he teased you, with a wink.

“Thank you.” You winked back, playfully popping him on the butt and running off before he could return the favor.

Henry had bought enough groceries to keep the house stocked for at least a month, and returned the favor of popping you on the butt, as you stood in the kitchen cooking dinner for you both. You yelped and melted into laughter as he wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder, watching you make the curry stir fry, you both had agreed on, on the way back to your place. You looked down feeling Kal brush against you and Henry's legs.

“You two are laying on the charm, thick.” You commented, looking back to the food. “Is that why you wanted to bring him?” You asked, tossing the stir fry in the pan with the curry. “So, you have the add advantage of wooing me?”

“Am I that transparent?” He asked, turning his face into your neck.

“Very.” You nodded, turning your face to look at him. “Don't play Poker.” You added, patting him on the cheek.

“That does explain why I always lose, when I do play.” He chuckled, his arm snaking out to add more curry to the pan.

“That be why, love.” You told him, taking the stir fry off the stove. “Did you make what you were supposed too for dinner, Hen?” You asked, looking over to the rice cooker, where he should have made the brown rice.

“Um...” Henry bit his lip, looking at the island where the brown rice still sat, untouched.

“Such a naughty boy.” You shook your head. “No dessert for you, tonight.” You playfully chided him, patting him on the chest. “You can have it though, Kal.” You told the Akita, who sat patiently in the doorway of the kitchen. “You've been a much gooder boy than your daddy today.”

“I can still make it.” Henry pouted, picking the rice up and going to the cooker. “It'll only take a couple minutes.”

“If you'd made it, Kal,” You kept addressing the Bear, loving the pouty sound in Henry's deep voice. “You'd have had it done, before I even got the curry simmering, huh?” You asked him, bringing yourself down to Kal's level, his curly tail swishing back and forth, excitedly. “I know! That's why you are the goodest, good boy in the house!” You glanced over your shoulder at Henry as he huffed, loading the rice cooker and turning it on.

“I'm the goodest, gooder, good boy in this house!” He protested, turning to you and crossing his arms over his chest, bottom lip puffing out and making you grin even more at him.

“Are you?” You raised an eyebrow at him, then looked at Kal. “Is he?” Kal blinked, tilting his head at you. “Or are you the gooder, goodest, good boy in this house?” Kal barked at that, bouncing on his front paws and licking your face. “The Council as spoken, and you've been out voted, Henry Cavill. You are the least goodest, gooder, good boy in the house, and the weakest link, no dessert for you!”

“That's not fair.” He pouted even more, looking like a wounded puppy.

“Lord, if I was weakest gooder, goodest, good girl in the house, I might actually break at that look and let you have dessert after all,” You told him, your heart fluttering as you stood up. “But, I'm not!” You laughed, pulling out plates, wine glasses and silverware. “But, I'll let you pick the show, we watch tonight, though.”

“How considerate of you.” He whined, not looking at you as he sulked.

You laughed, hearing his tone and the look on his face, but you could see the coltish look in his blue eyes as he check the cooker. “How about this?” You offered, plating the food as Henry took the rice out of the cooker. “If you wash all the dishes after dinner, and pick a decent show for us to watch, I'll give you dessert.”

“Depends on what dessert is.” He replied, serving you some of the rice.

“Hm, what indeed?” You smiled at him. “Perhaps, you should look in the fridge.”

Henry narrowed his eyes at you, turning to pull open the refrigerator door and cooed seeing the fresh strawberries and cream on the shelf. “Ooh, now I'll definitely endeavor to be a good boy.” He grinned at you.

“I'm sure.” You grinned back, picking up your plate and going out to the living room, Kal close at your heels.

Henry joined you on the couch, balancing his plate on his knee as he grabbed the remote and started searching the channels and DVR, for something the both of you would like to watch. Settling on the Prodigal Son on your Hulu account, the two of you settled in, enjoying the dinner you made and making back and forth comments on who you each thought the killer was and why. When the show and dinner was finished, Henry left you to find something else to watch on the tv, while he washed the dishes and prepared dessert, bringing the strawberries and cream to you. He dipped a strawberry into the cream and held it out to you, but pulled it back, when you reached for it. Tilting your head at him, eyes narrowing slightly, you opened your mouth and rolled your eyes as he fed it to you, making you hum at how good it tasted. You returned the gesture, feeding him the next strawberry and cream concoction. The two of you completely forgot about the show playing on the tv as you shared the dessert, Kal attentively watching you feed each other, even passing a strawberry between you, with only your mouths, from his spot on the other side of the coffee table.

“I could get use to this.” Henry murmured, swiping his thumb over a bit of strawberry juice and cream on your bottom lip, and licking it off.

“I have no protest.” You panted back, licking your lips, tasting the strawberries and cream, but importantly, Henry on them. He tasted better than the dessert did, and you felt the tell tale sign of yourself losing the battle of not wanting to fall in love with him, but you weren't going to give in on day one, either. You wanted him to earn you, and you didn't want your parents rubbing their choice to arrange your marriage to Henry, down your throat any more than they already did, either.

“I love you.” He whispered, brushing his thumb over your cheek and jaw.

“I know, you do, Henry.” You whispered back, stomach quivering.

Fuck. You thought as he leaned into kiss you on the lips again. I love you too.

[kriscme]

One Life to Live

Here’s the latest chapter.  Thanks to Ronja for permission to write fanfic of her Hunger Games fanfic “The Chance You Didn’t Take.”  It can be found on A03 as this can too (under Kris22).  Thanks for reading. Chapter 35 I wake to bright sunshine and the citrusy perfume of evening primrose wafting in from the open window.  Such a lovely dream I had last night.  I was following Prim through the woods and the further she took me, the happier I became, even though we never arrived at any place. But then I remember my current predicament and my spirits plummet again.  I turn to face Peeta, expecting to see him, but he’s not here.  The only sign that he was in my bed last night is the impression his head made on the pillow close to my own.  Somehow, we both seemed to have gravitated to the middle of the bed during the night. From downstairs I hear movement and two voices in conversation.  That could only be Peeta and Haymitch.  No one else would be in the Village and in my house at this hour.  The clock by the bed tells me I have an hour before it’s time to leave for work.  I use most of it to shower and dress.  I don’t want to face either of them just yet. They’ll only talk strategy.  Haymitch seems to have relished getting back into his old mentor role which is odd, because he hated it when he actually was one.  As for Peeta, I haven’t seen him like this since the Quarter Quell when he had us all training like careers.  There’s the same energy and focus.  It’s as if he’s determined to get me home a third time.  Only this time his reasons are . . . well, I don’t know what his reasons are but it is good to see him back to his old self.  I should make an effort to stop being so sulky and disagreeable around him.  It’s not his fault he doesn’t love me anymore and he is doing me a huge favor at risk to himself.   As soon as I see the food laid out on the table, I wish I had come down earlier.   Peeta has cooked my favorite breakfast of sausages, eggs, potatoes, bread, juice and hot chocolate.   I tuck in, ignoring Haymitch’s scowl.  It’s my house.  I’ll come down when I want to. “We keep to the schedule as planned,” says Haymitch.  “And it goes without saying – “ “Stay in love,” Peeta and I say in unison.  “And don’t be afraid to lay it on thick,” Haymitch adds.  “That’s what the public is used to seeing from you.  This isn’t an old settled relationship.  Or a continuation of one.  It’s brand new.  You want to avoid any talk that this has been going on behind Lace’s back and it’s why the wedding was called off.  After the cameras are gone, you still have to live amongst these people.  No one likes a cheater.” “It won’t be a problem,” says Peeta, as he starts to clear away the dishes.  I grab the plate with the potatoes before he takes it.  “It actually works out well.  Lace was worried that people might think the same of her and Arthur if their relationship became public too soon.  But if she and I both have partners, they’re far less likely to think that one of us had cheated on the other.  I’ll let her know sometime today that Katniss and I are together.” I bet that will shock her.  After all his talk of me being an illusion, he’d better have a convincing excuse for why he’s changed his mind.  But at least I know that he’s aware that Lace is with Arthur now. What’s most surprising though, is that he doesn’t seem upset about it.  And they’re still talking to each other. On Haymitch’s advice, we take the most public route into work so as to be seen by the maximum number of people.   That takes us through the main street past Lace’s shop.   I catch a glimpse of her through the window sorting through fabrics.  She has her back to us.  The shop next door is vacant but there’s carpentry in progress, probably for new fittings for Arthur when he moves in.  We turn down a side street and pass by Arthur’s shop.  He’s opened early as usual.  I don’t see him but I know he’ll be hard at work, saving for that factory he plans to own one day.   The salon is closed at this hour but I spy Flavius at the front desk, head down, consulting the appointment book.  He raises his head as we walk by.  I move closer to Peeta and rise on tiptoe to kiss his cheek before giving Flavius a wave. The news will be all over town by the end of the day.   We meet for lunch at the small park adjacent to the school.   It’s a hot day but the old oak tree provides plentiful shade.  We eschew the bench seat and sit on the grass because it looks more romantic that way.   I kick off my shoes to cool my feet and smooth out the folds of my dress.  It’s the sunset dress that Peeta likes.  It just happened to be the first thing on hand when I reached into my closet this morning. Peeta has brought us food from the bakery.   He holds out in each hand a white paper bag with the Carter logo on it.   “Beef or chicken?” “Um . . . beef,” I say.  Peeta hands me one of the bags and keeps the other.  It’s not a pie but a sandwich with layers of thinly sliced roast beef, cheese, lettuce, tomato and some kind of sauce. I take my first bite and moan appreciatively.  This might just overtake cheese buns for me. “Since when did the bakery sell sandwiches?” I ask. “Since last week.  And coffee and other beverages too.  It’s an experiment, to see how well it does.  In the Capitol, the bakery also functioned as a café, with indoor seating.  It will mean moving to larger premises but it might be needed anyway.  Did I tell you we’re getting cake orders from as far away as the Capitol now?  The one I did for Cressida’s wedding seems to have started it.” “That’s great, Peeta,” I say, genuinely happy for him.  But then a terrible thought occurs to me.  Cass told me that Peeta could get work anywhere.   What if he leaves 12 for the Capitol for bigger opportunities? I’m suddenly consumed with fear. I don’t want him to go. “I’ve also been offered a fourth share partnership in the business too, along with Julius, Cass and Cornelia,” he adds, his face alight with enthusiasm.   “They want to keep you,” I say. “Probably,” he concedes.  “But there’s more to it than that.  We’re more than just coworkers.  I feel disloyal saying this and no one could ever replace them, but in a way, it’s like having my brothers back.  And Cornelia is the woman one of them might have married.  Does that sound bad?” “Not at all,” I say, thinking of Johanna and how she’s like a sister to me.  Loved ones can’t be replaced but it doesn’t mean your circle can’t expand to include others.  “I suppose you won’t be opening a bakery of your own any time soon then?  Wasn’t that one of the plans you made with Lace?” Peeta gives a short, self-depreciating laugh. “That was never going to happen.  Responsible for running a bakery? Ugh!  I like what I’m doing now, decorating cakes and leaving the management side of it to others.   I think we just chose what we thought the other expected of us, not what we actually wanted for ourselves.    Lace would never have been happy giving up her shop to work from home.  She’s worked too hard for it.  And five kids?  At this stage of my life, I’m not even sure about one.��� “Really?” I ask.  That was the only part of it that made any sense to me – that Peeta would want a large family.  “I thought you’d like to have children.”   From the school grounds nearby, I can hear the shrieks and laughter of children at play.  It wasn’t long ago that the mere thought of having to teach Peeta and Lace’s children had filled me with dread.  I was sure that if it was Peeta’s choice, they’d have had them straight off. “One day, perhaps,” he says.  “But I want to be in a better place than I am right now. You know, with the attacks and everything.  And we’re only twenty.  There’s plenty of time.” Twenty-one.   Lace is twenty-one.   “You?” he asks. “Oh, um, the same as you, I guess,” I say, surprised to have the question turned back on me.    “I’ll think about it when the time comes.  But for the moment, no.  I want to see how things turn out.  With the new government, I mean.  Whether the peace lasts.”  I want to be certain the Games will never return before I’m be ready to bring children into the world.   “I meant more general that that,” he says. “How do you see your future?  What do you want to do?” I take a moment to think about it.  My future isn’t something I’ve given much thought to other than in terms of what I can’t do because of my confinement.   But it dawns on me that even if had the choice to live wherever I wanted, I’d still choose Twelve.  It’s my home and the people and places I love are here. “Keep on teaching, I suppose, and finish getting my qualifications.   Mr Matson suggested I could teach archery to the older students.   So maybe I’ll do that.  I doubt there’ll be much hunting once the woods officially become national park so it seems a good compromise.  I can continue to use my skills and pass them on at the same time.” “Sounds perfect,” says Peeta, smiling at me. We go back to eating our lunch.  I see a few people walking past on the opposite side of the road but foot traffic around here is thin and sporadic.  It’s an out-of-the-way place to be seen but Haymitch’s rationale is that we can’t just frequent the popular places because that would cause suspicion in itself.  We have to appear as a normal courting couple doing what a normal courting couple would do. Picnicking in a sequestered park is apparently one of them.  But there’s at least one onlooker.  A squirrel, perched on one of the lower branches watches expectantly.  He seems used to people as he doesn’t show any fear. And probably used to being fed by them too.  I break off a piece of crust and throw it a short distance away.  He doesn’t hesitate.   He scampers down the tree, grabs his prize, and scurries back up.   I catch Peeta observing me, a look of amusement on his face. “What?” I demand.  He had better not be laughing at me. “It’s just seeing a new side of you, that’s all.  You know, relaxed.   One time, that squirrel would have ended up with one of your arrows through its eye. But now you share your lunch with it. I like it.  It means you’re in a better place now.  Not so concerned with survival.” Humph! The last time I heard anyone talk about me and survival was in the basement of a dingy little shop in the Capitol that sold fur underwear.  “Katniss will pick whoever she thinks she can’t survive without.”  Gale said it, and Peeta didn’t refute it.  The same resentment I felt then wells up in me.  There it is again, the implication that any finer feelings are subservient to my need to survive. Not love, or desire, or compatibility, or even just throwing a crust of bread to a squirrel.  I didn’t get to defend myself then, but I will now. “That’s a horrible thing to say.”   Peeta’s eyebrows shoot up in a surprise.  “I hate that people think that of me – that I’ll put my own wellbeing ahead of anything else.  If I’ve tried so hard to survive, it’s because I had people depending on me.  What would have happened to Prim, or my mother, if I hadn’t been around to make sure there was food on the table?  Prim would have ended up in the Community Home and that meant as good as dead.  I’ll do anything for the people I love.  Die for them if need be.  I would die for you.  I –“ I stop short, remembering all of a sudden that I’m supposed to keep those feelings hidden.  Heat rises in my face.  “I mean – “And then it’s Peeta who cuts me short.  He takes my face in his hands and kisses me.  Really kisses me, not the closed mouth playacting kind, but softly, insistently, plying my mouth open with his own.  For a few seconds I’m stunned into inaction.  But then I feel that thing.  That thing that happened in the cave and on the beach.   And I put my arms around his neck and kiss him back hungrily, greedy for more.  He pulls me closer and we sort of meld together, the points of his body picking out the counter-points of my own and I moan somewhere deep in my throat. I forget we’re in a public space and only a short distance from a school.  Nothing exists but Peeta and me and when I feel his hand slip between my thighs under the cover of my dress, lightly as if seeking permission, my legs fall apart in open invitation and I will it to go higher, to that place that wants him so badly.

His fingertips barely make contact when from some faraway place the pulsating ring of a school bell sounds.  With great reluctance, I am dragged back into the present and reality returns with a thud.  I pull away, confused.  What just happened?  Why did he do that?  My head whips around looking for the audience he’s playing to, but there’s no one about.

“Don’t.  Don’t let’s pretend when there’s no one around,” I say, getting quickly to my feet.  It’s not . . . we shouldn’t do it.  It’s how lines get blurred.”  And people get hurt. People being me.  I shove my feet into my shoes.  “I have to go.  Class is about to start.  Thanks for lunch.”

I don’t wait for a response from Peeta. I race off, leaving him to dispose of the remains of our lunch, a look of bewildered concern on his face. The kiss leaves me shaken and it takes a concerted effort to concentrate on my work.  That was so close.  Too close. How am I going to get through this without breaking down?  There’s at least three weeks to go.  This week before the television crew arrives, the following when they set up, and after that a week of filming.  I don’t know how Peeta did it.  All that kissing and hugging on the Victory Tour.  And the nights on the train.  And then when we shared a bed in the Capitol just before the Quell.  It must have been torture.  As it will be for me tonight, and every other night until this is over.

Luckily, Peeta and I don’t finish work at the same time so I’m spared walking home with him.  As I’m home first, I set the table and prepare the food for dinner, allowing extra in case Haymitch turns up, which he probably will.  And then I go into the living room and take a book from the shelf.  I hope reading will be a distraction because I just can’t get that kiss out of my mind. It’s a book on conservation that Marcus left behind, and it’s as dry as you’d imagine but it does nothing to lessen the wetness between my legs.  I am so aroused; I’m fit to burst.  There’s only one solution.  I slip my hand under my dress to take care of it myself, and I’m just on the verge when I hear the front door open.  It’s Peeta.

I quickly open the book and pretend to be immersed in it.  

“Good book?” Peeta asks, as he comes into the room.  He takes the seat opposite and reads the title from the cover.  “’Wetland Techniques.”  I suppose we could all benefit by brushing up on our wetland technique.  Maybe I should read it after you.” “

Maybe,” I say noncommittedly, and lower my eyes back to the page.  I hope he’ll take the hint that I’m not in a sociable mood and go away.  

There’s a long pause.  “Katniss, I think we should talk about what happened at the park.”

I don’t think that’s a good idea at all.  If Peeta has a flaw it’s that he likes to talk about things that shouldn’t be talked about. It would be better for both of us if we pretended it didn’t happen.  

“Things got a little carried away, that’s all,” I say.  “It was bound to happen with us forced into this situation again.  We just have to be more careful next time.”  

“Is that what you want?” he asks, frowning. “I think it’s best, don’t you?  If we’re to get through this, we need to set boundaries. After all, we have to go back to living normally after this.  We have to stay friends.” I try to sound convincing but there’s a faint tremor in my voice.  I stare down at my book to avoid looking at him.

“All right, Katniss,” he says tiredly.   He rises from the chair.  “I’ll get dinner started then.  Haymitch should be here soon.”

After he leaves the room, I let out my breath. I don’t think he believed me but maybe that’s not important.  We only have to preserve the veneer.  But he makes it so hard.  Always wanting to open wounds instead of just leaving them alone.  I’ll just have to stay on my guard and make sure to keep him at a safe distance.  Obviously, Peeta isn’t averse to having sex with me if what happened at the park is any indication.  But then, I was practically begging him.  I know you don’t have to be in love to have sex.   And if sex is all I wanted from Peeta, I’d do it in a heartbeat. But I know, I just know, that if we went down that path, the floodgates would open and I’d be as helpless as ever and in an even worse place than I am now.  Nothing will have changed.  I’d still be in love with someone who isn’t in love with me.

While Peeta makes dinner, I take a shower.  A cold one. And change out of the sunset dress into something that makes me feel less vulnerable – tight-fitting trousers and a t-shirt.  I’d wear a chastity belt if I had one because I don’t really trust myself.  I wait until Haymitch arrives before I go downstairs. The less alone time I have with Peeta, the better.

Unfortunately, Haymitch doesn’t stay for very long after we’ve eaten.  I was hoping that he and Peeta would get the chess board out again so I could avoid interacting with him.  

“It’s Monday,” I tell Peeta, when he comments on Haymitch’s early departure.  “He wants to be home to watch “One Life to Live.” He’s something of an addict.”  I dry the last of the dishes and put it away while Peeta makes tea.  

“That’s the show Plutarch talked about, isn’t it?” he asks. “Yeah, that’s the one.  It’s the most rubbishy, most stupid thing ever. I was insulted when he compared us to Celia and Blake.  Idiots, both of them.”

“I can’t really comment.  I’ve never watched it,” he says, as he pours tea into two mugs.

I sniff derisively.   “Well, you haven’t missed anything.  I can’t think why Haymitch likes it.”

“Let’s find out.” “What?  You actually want to watch it?”

“Yeah.  I do.  You can explain the plot so far.”

He picks up one of the mugs and I take the other. “That will take about two seconds.” Nonetheless, I follow him into the living room and sit down beside him on the sofa. I guess there are worse things to do than watching television together, even if it is “One Life to Live.”  At least it’s a distraction and we won’t have to talk much.  My gaze flickers over to Peeta.  I’m acutely aware of him.  His well-muscled thigh only inches from my own. The fine blond hair on his strong capable hands.  Hands that can lift heavy sacks of flour yet wield a paintbrush with the most delicate precision.   Hands that were on me only hours earlier.  A throbbing starts between my legs at the thought of it.   I cross one leg over the other to alleviate the sensation but then quickly uncross them. The movement makes the crotch seam of my trousers rub against me in a most stimulating way.  I should have worn a dress.  

With a click of the remote control, the opening credits of “One Life to Live” appear on the screen.   I swallow hard and force myself to focus. “Well, Celia and Blake are from neighboring districts . . . “

[jj-lynn21]

Castlerock: All Hallows Eve Ch 3

Ch 3: Chaos

Ch 1: Creation   ch 2 accident

Warnings: angst, jealousy, creepiness, creepy kids laughing,  

Song: It's a dead man's party oingo boingo

tags @dragsraksllib​ @grandpa-sweaters​ @waywardtigersandwich​ @sunshineandskarsgards​ @loomis @goblincxnt​  @kaangwoo​     @taintedglass​

 Nadine hobbled out to kitchen. She poured coffee in a mug that her love had put there for her. Genevieve was making breakfast. The Statue of the Kid sat on the counter looking towards Gen cooking. Nadine glared at the statue sticking her tongue. She gasped as she swore, she saw its mouth turn up in a grin and one eye wink.

  “Fuck.” She backed away to the table to sit down. When she took another look the face was normal. “Fucking hell that thing is creepy Gen.” 

Gen turned around with two plates of scrambled eggs with cheese, sausage, and tomato. “I don’t think that is nice of you to say about him.” She put the food on the table, then turned to grab the statue to set facing her. “He is quite a unique expression of my creativity.”

“I’m not having another fight over him.” Nadine took a deep breath. “It is just a statue made of clay.” She mumbled.

 “For now.” Genevieve mumbled back as she started eating. “Are you going to be able to come to the party tonight? I already started decorating while you were in the hospital.”

“How did you have time?” Nadine paused fork full of eggs halfway to her mouth. “You where there with me as long as they would let you. How did you decorate and sleep?”

Gen shrugged. “The point is that I did it. When the veil lifts it’s a dead man’s party as our parents always say.” She laughed. It sounded a bit wicked as she hears the clay figure of The Kid laugh to.

 “I’m still in.” Nadine started eating again. “People rising from the dead wouldn’t really be all that surprising in this part of Maine. Hopefully, they don’t kill anyone, but I guess we will deal with that when it happens.”

Both girls laugh at the absurdity of the subject. Their laughter only masks the truth they well know. If it is a strange occurrence, it is sure to eventually happen in Castlerock.

Nadine insists on cleaning everything up since Genevieve cooked. She tries to argue with Nadine to at least let her help since she still has stitches in her leg and multiple bruises, but Nadine pushes her off towards her art room.  Gen reluctantly gave in and headed to her art room. She left the statue on the table. Nadine glared at it out of his line of sight. She thought this was her chance to get rid of the thing and she would play dumb when Gen was looking for it.

The party would distract her girlfriend. She would not have time to look for it until after the day of the Dead.  Nadine grabbed the thing. Holding it out In front of her refusing to look in its face she dropped it in the trash. The trash collector was only a house away. When the trucks robot arm lifted the trash can to dumb the contents, she felt relieved and went back in the house to wash dishes.

 A few hours later Nadine knocked on the art room door with some pumpkin cookies. She made dozens for the party. “Hey, Gen do you want to be a taste tester?”

“Come in.” Genevieve was working on a poster board sign of the Marsten house. She worked with blues, purples, black and a bit of oranges and yellows for glowing pumpkins. “How do you like our party sign so far?”

Nadine dropped the plate of cookies as she looked over her loves shoulder. Sitting at the corner of the paper was the statue of the kid watching Gen work.

 “It’s not that scary.” Genevieve laughed and helped Nadine clean up the cookies. She even ate one. “I think you out did yourself. This is the best cookie I have ever had in my mouth.”

“Um thanks.” She looked to the picture then came up with a reason she was scared. “Creepy kid shadows got me, I guess. Everyone will love the sign. Did you make more statues also?”

“No silly.” She kissed the top of the clay statue’s forehead. “He is an original. There can never be more than one.”

Nadine’s heart began beating so fast she grabbed her chest. She swore she saw the thing move its head to look at her. Gen was back to working on the sign by then. 

“I will have this finished in an hour.” Gen had her tongue sticking out as she worked on detailing jack-o'-lanterns in the painting. “Then we can take everything to the house before dusk. It is going to be such a wonderful night. Did I ever tell you my parents found me in the woods near the Marsten house?” “No, you never told me.” I thought the Duchamp’s were your parents.”

“Nope.” Gen replied. “No one could figure out who my real parents were so the sheriff just let them keep me. Everyone figured whoever left a baby in the woods was not much of a parent to begin with.”

“I’m sorry.” Nadine didn’t know anything else she could say. Maybe, her head injury was worse than the Doctor thought and she imagined throwing away the statue. Nothing else really makes sense. All the creepiness about it could be all in her head because of how jealous she is of Henry Deaver, The Kid, or whatever everyone wanted to call him. 

“It's okay.” Genevieve grinned wickedly. “Destiny always finds a person no matter where they end up.”

“I guess.” Nadine shrugged. “I’m going to make more cookies. I’ll be ready when you are done.”

“Sure thing, Nadine.” Genevieve said without looking away from her project. 

An hour before sundown Genevieve brings the painting out.  She had a long blood red jacket on with a hood, a black dress underneath with legging and thigh-high boots. “Already for tonight.”

Nadine turns from bagging up the goodies. “That looks great. And you look sexy as Hell.” Nadine had on black jeans and a loose-fitting black hoodie with cat ears. “I’m ready.”

The girls took Gen’s car. Nadine’s car was still at the Duchamp auto body shop. The wind blew the leaves across the path as Nadine and Genevieve walk up to the house.

 “I’m going to put the sign up.” Genevieve troted back down the driveway with the sign.

  “Alright, just be careful.” Nadine laughed changing the tone of her voice to a deep spooky one. “The witching hour will be upon us soon.” She cackled. She went into the house alone.

Genevieve went down to the bottom of the driveway. She set the sign up and looked at the town of Jerusalem's Lot. The chill in the air made her shiver. It was not that she heard him call for help. She felt him need her help.  She walked around the house into the woods. Her ears heard a humming. Then a loud stinging ringing flooded her mind. She dropped to her knees screaming covering her ears. Then there was silence. There he was laying in the leaves shivering naked.

As soon as she opened her eyes Genevieve crawls to him.  She took her long red coat off to wrap him up. “I’m here with you.”

His lips were blue from the cold.  Expressing his bewilderment with his eyes, he looks to her. He hates this part. The travel from the other side. The surprising time it happened as he communicated with her through her art. He didn’t imagine it could happen like this. A thinning happening on both sides while he was in his bath.

 “Let me help you inside where it is warmer.” She helped him to stand. “I’m sorry my coat is not longer on you, but at least it covers what only me needs to see.’

That made him chuckle a little. As they start walking to the Marsten place, guests are streaming inside. More people than were expected. Nadine did not even notice how long Gen was gone until she saw him duck into the doorway. Genevieve was by his side.  

The Kid darted his eyes around nervously. “Too much.”

Gen helped him through the staring crowd as the sounds of children laughing made her skin crawl. She got her man to a bedroom. Genevieve illuminated the scene with only her cellphone. 

The shadows of children lost surround the bed. “Play with us.” 

Genevieve gasped and dropped the cellphone on the bed. “Make them stop. Make them stop.” She buried her head in his chest.

 He covered her ears. “Go away.” He growled the command his face morphing into a grotesque old demon scaring the apparitions.

They screeched so loud as they ran the walls shook. The house not being the most stable residents started to slowly crumble. Hearing the screaming from where she saw Gen go, Nadine rushed to the room. As she looked inside Gen was looking up at her savior lovingly with trust. His hands covered the sides of her face.

His one eye caught Nadine standing frozen as the walls shook.  “Mine.” He murmured before kissing Genevieve passionately as they laid down in the bed.

The door slammed. Someone in another room yelled “fire.” Nadine ran to put it out. A huge part of the ceiling caved in in the kitchen. The punch bowl ignited when someone dropped their cigarette into it. Chaos took over.

The guests no longer thought the children were a creepy party trick. They were trying to keep people from leaving.  Nadine was trying to help everyone out safely. She could not think of what Genevieve was doing. She grabbed a iron poker from the fireplace. As soon as she swung it, nailing three of the children they vanished.

Some people could finally start to leave yet another nightmare party. The next day many would convince themselves it was the best party they ever attended. Even if some people never got home.

Genevieve and her King start to head out of the house. In the chaos no one noticed. No one that is but Nadine who saw them start to leave out of the corner of her eye.

 “Where are you going!” Nadine screamed. “We need to make sure everyone gets out of here safely.”

“Everything will be fine.” Gen continued to walk out. “I’m going home.”

Nadine was pissed but she did not have time to deal with whatever was going on with Genevieve and that damn creepy kid. The Marstan house was starting to crumble again. The roof had not been secured. The dry wall was barely holding up. The punch bowl was on fire and all those kids laughing as people screamed did not help the situation. 

Once Nadine helped everyone out of the house, she was exhausted. Genevieve’s car was still there. She figured her girl, if she still considered herself that, had walked to their home. Taking The Kid to their place just made the anger well up in her again. She drove back to their home as fire trucks and ambulances descended on the scene.

 Nadine tore up the driveway. She stormed in the house ready for a fight. She was ready to fight for her love or lose Genevieve forever. But their place was quiet when she entered. It was to quiet. She stomped through the place thinking she would find Gen in their bed. She pushed open the door, the room was empty. She went to the art room next. No one was there. And even though Nadine never saw Gen take the statue to the party the statue was gone too.

 She panicked. She was sure Gen told her they were going home. Her mind whorled. She concluded Henry Deaver kidnapped her girlfriend. She rushed to the police station.

“My girlfriend was kidnapped.” She was breathing heaving as she approached the women at the desk. “Henry Deaver kidnapped my girlfriend.”

The clerk rolled her eyes. “Which one? I haven’t seen either in over a year.”

 “The kid.” Nadine answered frustrated. “Whatever you want to call him. He left the party at the Marsten house with her. She said she was going home, and she isn’t there.”

“Oh, you were at that house party.” She shook her head. “Who started the fire? How did all those people get hurt. That place has never been good.”

“That has nothing to do with my girlfriend’s disappearance.” Nadine was infuriated. “We need to get a search party in the woods.”

“Well you have two options young lady.” The clerk grabbed some paperwork and motioned another police officer over. “You take a substance test. We find out what you were doing in that house. Or you sleep it off. It is not a kidnapping for her to leave with him of her own free will. She will probably be home tomorrow. If not, I would forget about her. People disappear around here all the time. No amount of searching usually helps.”

Those were like the words she told Genevieve. Now coming back to haunt her. She left but she never planned to let go. She would eventually find her love and take her back from the man, if he were truly a man, that destroyed their life.                             

[jflashandclash]

Tales From Mount Othrys

Fidget Spinners IV

           Once they were aboard the Ferry of the Dead, riding down the River Styx with Charon in his proper creepy and grim black robe, Alabaster stopped vomiting. The ship was an old Greek vessel, something Matthias could have identified immediately. They sat as far from the stern as possible. Apparently this boat was usually brimming with ghosts, but Charon had shoved the three of them aboard in such a hurry, less ghosts had flooded the space.

         This gave them the room to sit on the edge of the boat so Pax, Lou Ellen, and Alabaster could stare off at the inky, polluted river. They wanted to be as far from the ferryman as possible. Charon was cursing under his breath, something about children being electrocuted in bathtubs and getting into car accidents.

         Maybe, in a normal tour, Pax might have been excited by the black stalactites and terrifying horror movie set. For now, all he could do was rub Alabaster’s back. Lou Ellen sat on his other side, pulling one finger off and putting it back in a different one’s place, frequently messing it up. This was her way of acting concerned.

         After he was certain Charon couldn’t overhear them, Pax whispered, “You died coming after us?!”

         Before now, he couldn’t process what was happening enough to ask. The sight of Alabaster with his intestines dragging on the floor and blood spewing out of his mouth—it was enough to make Pax tremble more. And he was already trembling pretty hard in this cold cavern.

         “Of course I died!” Alabaster’s voice rose, making Pax and Lou Ellen flinch. “How else would I be in the Underworld?!”

         Tears threatened to spill down Pax’s cheeks. He could hear Lou Ellen sniffling. Crying would really make her missing-eye illusion less believable.

         Alabaster sighed. Pax thought he was reaching for something in his pocket.

         Alabaster wasn’t. He grabbed the end of his intestines. Casually, the child of Hecate wound them up around one wrist. Once he got towards the end, he ripped off a chunk.

         Pax shrieked.

         “Be quiet,” Alabaster snarled. Softer, he grumbled, “And Mercedes thinks you can keep it cool in enemy territory.”

         Pax wanted to point out that enemies (hopefully) wouldn’t be ripping off pieces of their organs. Was that a thing they did in Camp Half-Blood? Did Percy Jackson, in fact, an organ-eating zombie?

         Before Pax could withdraw his hand, Alabaster shoved the chunk into Pax’s palm.

         Pax almost screamed again. Maybe this was an experience he should have smiled upon—after all, it isn’t every day that your crush tries to hand you an organ, granted, a heart might be better.

         “I knew you idiots wouldn’t bring enough snacks,” Alabaster hissed, shoving another chunk into Lou Ellen’s hands.

         “Oh my mother…” Lou Ellen whispered.

         Pax didn’t want to watch as she held up the chunk for investigation. Then he saw what she saw. The scent of iron vanished like it had been a whiff from a distant breeze. That chunk had some kind of label covered in blood—not blood.

         Pax sniffed.

         The scent of barbeque sauce became overwhelming.

         He rubbed his own chunk with his thumb. The sauce smeared to reveal a packaged sausage, like the kind you’d have on a cheese platter. There was even a bright label on the protective packaging.

         Pax stared at his hand. The spell had been so convincing.

         Lou Ellen made a low whistle. “You’re good,” she said, “Titans, can you teach me how to do that?”

         “When you have enough discipline to pull off your nose instead of your chin,” Alabaster scolded.

         Pax couldn’t think about the spell or the sausage.

         He threw his arms around Alabaster.

         Alabaster made a grunt of annoyance.

         Slowly and firmly, as though not to draw attention to them, Alabaster removed Pax’s arms. There was an embarrassed hue to his pale cheeks as he scowled from Pax to Lou Ellen. “You didn’t come to me to devise this plan?” he demanded.

         “We thought you’d be mad,” Lou Ellen meeped. She sheepishly poked at the fake dent in her head. By comparison to Alabaster’s effects, hers looked like something out of a D-rate horror movie.

         “Oh, I am mad. When we get back, I’m killing you, and then you’ll have to march right back in there and explain to Charon how you’ve shown up twice, then you’ll have to see what he does with you,” Alabaster said.

         Pax couldn’t help but grin. Threats aside, he couldn’t handle looking at this very-much-alive Alabaster. It was cute thinking about it: Alabaster finding their, “Went to Underworld. Will bring back souvenirs,” note and stuffing a bunch of sausage links into his shirt, cussing at the confused centaur that could swear he just took Alabaster and Lou Ellen off the ship. He really cared. At least about Lou Ellen.

         “Are you making us go back?” she whispered, shuffling away from a wandering soul and closer to her brother. Pax understood. Everything here was cold. Touching another warm person was a nice reminder of the above world.

         “How, pray tell, am I to make you go back in our current situation?” Alabaster closed his eyes and rubbed his eyelids. “Mercedes warned me you’d want to go after Axel. I didn’t think the two of you would be stupid enough to throw away your life chasing him or smart enough to get off the boat undetected.”

         Lou Ellen and Pax exchanged a glance over Alabaster’s shoulders. Neither could decide if the comment was more compliment or insult.  

         “So, we’re going after Axel?” Pax clarified.

         “We’re certainly not going back the way we came. I have no interest in angering Charon on his own boat,” Alabaster said.

         That meant that Alabaster had come down here with his own plan. Even if he didn’t have one when he left, trying to catch them before they went into DOA Recording Studios, he would have come up with one by now. Before Pax could hear any awesome details, their ship pulled up along black sand.

         Pax guessed that Hades hadn’t heard the memo—that pink was the new black. If Pax ever got scared while he was down here, he would have to remember to visualize the Underworld in various shades of Easter egg with magenta stalactites meeting a sparkling, rose floor. His stomach dropped about what shade of pink the river would be with its thick eddies. That went too Mayan in his head.

         Alabaster tossed the plastic-wrapped suit backwards into the boat, quickly shuffling the younger two off. They didn’t wait to hear what Charon thought of the contents.

         They walked towards the airport-like security with ghoulish attendants separating people into various lines. There were signs above the lines, ones that Pax couldn’t read since the letters jumbled into incomprehension.

         A low whine, like that of an injured puppy, echoed around the chamber. Yea, there were wails too, but those were human wails. Pax was way less interested in those. He couldn’t find the source of the animal noises until Lou Ellen tugged furiously on his jacket.

         Pax didn’t know how he missed the view before. Unlike Alabaster, Lou Ellen, and Axel, he struggled to see through the Mist. Even so, the Mist deserved a pay raise.

         A few yards ahead of them was a massive Rottweiler with three heads. Maybe the truck-sized dog would have normally been intimidating; Pax had heard some intimidating stories about Cerberus. Instead, the dog just looked pathetic, curled up and nursing a paw. Pax could see why.

         There was a sword imbedded between two toes.

         “He’s hurt!” Pax cried.

         “Ajax, no,” Alabaster growled.

         Lou Ellen joined in the cry, “We have to help him.”

         “What part of—”

         “Please!” Pax and Lou Ellen said together.

         “Grant me the patience of the Furies,” Alabaster said under his breath.

         One of the heads must have caught their scent. It perked up and glanced in their direction, growling.

         The other two were licking at the injured paw still. He looked cute, the way a monster truck might if painted with bambis and rabbits.

         Alabaster stopped in his tracks. He fumbled with his intestines—sausages. Pax really needed to stop thinking of sausage as intestines. “Who do you think stabbed him?” he asked in his you’re stupid if you can’t answer this question and I know you too well to let you play dumb. “See many stray demigods wandering down here with blades?”

         “It wasn’t Axel,” Pax said. Axel was obsessed with mythical creature rights and would have known Cerberus was just doing his job. One caged animal to another—Axel would have likely tried to play-wrestle with the beast. “I’ll bet it was Luke.”

         “Yea, Luke’s an asshole,” Lou Ellen said.

         The two of them vigorously nodded their heads towards Alabaster.

         “Lou Ellen,” Alabaster chided, “I expect more creative insults than vulgarity. And you aren’t going to win me over by insulting Castellan.”

         Despite him saying that, the corner of his lips twitched into a smile. Until then, Pax hadn’t realized how glad he was to have Alabaster along. The Witch Boy would know his way around the Underworld, or Pax guessed he would. Alabaster held that easy calm, even amongst the dead.

         Pax and Lou Ellen would have feigned calm confidence. But, uh, that would have only lasted so long as they got closer to the line’s attendants.

         Another of Cerberus’ heads noticed their movement. It raised and joined in the low growl.

         The noise didn’t seem to bother Alabaster. “How were you planning on getting past?” he asked, gathering the rest of the sausages from his waist—he must have wrapped them under his shirt, and withdrawing them like a towel around a hand wound.

“We brought a chew toy,” Lou Ellen said. Pax could tell that she wanted to sound proud, but had realized a flaw in their plan. There were three heads and only one chew toy.

“Seriously?” Alabaster’s growl chimed in with Cerberus’.

“I heard it worked for Annabeth,” Pax said.

         Although Pax couldn’t see it, he could feel Alabaster roll his eyes. “The amount of inconvenience that girl has caused,” he said under his breath.

         Pax hesitated. Cerberus’ growls were making his body vibrate. This dog was massive, the size of a truck. Pax didn’t even come up to Cerberus’ chest and Cerberus was half-laying down. One of his heads still licked the sword hilt imbedded in his paw. Focus on that, Pax thought, and not on how his teeth are about as long as that sword.

         “We have a treat for you!” Alabaster called. His voice was way too cold for dealing with a ball of cute fluffiness and death. Pax had a feeling that Alabaster had never been allowed pets as a child. Other than Axel and Pax. Pax was fairly certain that they were pets to Alabaster.

         Cerberus stood up. When he applied pressure to his front paw, all three heads whimpered. They pulled the paw up slightly, to alleviate the pressure.

         “Go fix his paw if you wish. I can only hold him for a few moments with this,” Alabaster said. “If you take too long or are sloppy, you’ll get yourself killed.”

         For an instant, Pax wondered if Alabaster was nervous. The Witch Boy unwrapped a link of sausage and tossed it into the air towards Cerberus.

         The two heads less affected by the wound snapped at it, nipping at each other to bite it to pieces, probably the same way they would do with Pax’s limbs if he was caught.  

         Its breath flooded over them, almost as bad as Pax’s little brother’s, Hiro’s breath.

         “You suck at this,” Lou Ellen said, pulling a link from Alabaster. “You heard him, Pax. Have fun getting that sword out. Hey puppers! Look what I got for you puppers!”

         Her voice raised in pitch and excitement. The sentiment worked. Cerberus sat upright, letting his butt drop back onto the ground. From what Pax had heard of Annabeth’s interactions with this dog, he thought their red ball plan might have worked with Lou Ellen’s charm. Uh—natural charm. No witchy charm required.

         Pax puffed up his cheeks and popped them, realizing Lou Ellen had volunteered him for the harder job. His heartbeat pounded in his head. It’s just a cute, injured puppy, he told himself, It just so happens that it wouldn’t need to chew to swallow you.

         Alabaster gave Lou Ellen a look that might have been reproachful or approving. He handed her the rest of the sausage as Cerberus’ short tail thumped against the black sand, echoing around the chamber. Pax thought it was weird that interacting with this dog wasn’t a red flag for the Underworld Security. What dead person wanted to poke at the landowner’s attack dog?

         Alabaster made a few signs in the air around Pax’s head, muttering in Latin. Was he making him invisible? Or at least making him blend in with the stone? Or smell less like a delicious treat? Pax hoped all of the above. When Pax glanced down at his hands, they still looked visible and potentially delicious to a monster.

         “We don’t have enough sausages for you to hesitate,” Lou Ellen said.

         Pax swallowed. He thought about Juana, Axel’s jaguar. Their father bought it for him a few months after they were forced back “home.” Axel warned his siblings not to go near Juana without him, since she could tear them to shreds. Juana was a tenth the size of Cerberus.

         From what he knew of Juana, there was no point in trying to sneak up. He approached Cerberus’ injured paw, hands outstretched in attempt to look non-threatening. Not that a 4’7 rail of cuteness could look threatening.

The other two heads were locked on Lou Ellen, or fighting over bits of sausage she threw.

         The last head faced him. The eyes didn’t quite focus on Pax, showing Alabaster’s spell must have done something. Pax heartbeat thudded in his head as he took the last few steps to Cerberus’ foot. The dog hadn’t batted him out of existence yet.

         The head whimpered and pulled its paw closer to its body.

         “It’s okay,” Pax said, the way he did when his littlest brother had a nightmare. “I just want to help. It’ll be quick, like ripping off a Band Aid.”

         That felt like a threat to Pax. Just gonna take that sharp, pointy thing in your paw and move it around a bit.

         “Pax,” Alabaster said in warning.

         Pax didn’t look over to see why. He figured it had to do with how the middle head had turned to sniff furiously in his direction.

         Now or to Xibalba, Pax thought. He wrapped his fingers around the cold metal of the hilt and pulled up, trying not to twist the blade or yank at an angle.

         It slid out easily.

         Pax wanted to gloat about the Sword in the Paw and how he’d be king of the Cerberi.

         His mouth went dry instead.

         When he wretched the blade out, dark liquid splattered up from the paw. Something clear and goopy dropped on his head from above—saliva.

Pax puffed up his cheeks and popped them, looking up. The other two heads glowered down at him. Their teeth were barred within inches of his face. Their low growl rattled his skull.

He trembled, thinking at least one good thing would come out of this: if he died in the Underworld, he didn’t need to worry about going through Charon’s Waiting Room again.  

 ***

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! And I hope you and your loved ones are staying healthy and safe!

Stay tuned next week for part X!

[chloes-yellow-cup]

Nowish - Part 6

Bechloe. Staubrey. Bellas Squared/Stechlobree.

A story in which I convinced myself by accident that this could work. Let me try and convince you too.

Nowish Master Post  - Everything on one page.

A Shared Lifetime - All my fics

Recommended Mood Music on Spotify. Artistic license taken with song release years.

Note on the links: The ones about music lead to YouTube vids for fun. Rest are GIFs or links to whatever gift idea I have.

Chloe’s Birthday and an accidental live sex show.

Only a tiny bit of smut in this one, but it’s there!

~B~

Wednesday, June 7th, 2017

Beca worked quietly in the hallway outside her room, trying to arrange her surprise while it was still hot and not wake up the sleeping birthday girl. Per her self-created birthday tradition, she was serving Chloe breakfast in bed and after last year’s almost debacle bringing things up the stairs, she’d decided to carry them up in stages and put it together out here. Currently she was arranging a covered plate, glass of orange juice and a single rose in a small vase on the tray for Chloe. Carefully she lifted it and nudged the bedroom door open with her foot, smiling as she saw Chloe buried in a huddle of blankets and pillows.

Setting the tray down on the dresser, she stealth crawled her way up until she was propped up on her right arm next to her sleeping wife. Slowly she leaned down and pressed feather light kisses all over Chloe’s face until she stirred, then captured her lips to ease her gently awake.

Chloe’s arms slid from the blankets and around Beca’s neck, humming in approval. “Mmm… Morning.”

The kiss broke as Chloe gave a sleepy stretch and Beca whispered softly into her ear. “Happy Birthday, Chlo.” She ran the back of her fingers across Chloe’s cheek, watching as those gorgeous cerulean eyes blinked open. She wasn’t sure how she could be more in love with this woman every day, but she was. Even though she’d been falling since that first day at the activities fair, she never took it for granted.

Chloe nuzzled under Beca’s chin and placed a kiss on her neck. “Thanks, love.” She pulled Beca down tight against her body. “Are you my present?” Her hand ran down Beca’s side until her fingertips slid under the elastic of Beca’s shorts and nails scraped lightly at her hips.

Beca moaned softly, pushing her body even closer. “I mean, I do consider myself a gift to mankind…” She hissed as teeth nipped at her neck. “But I did make you breakfast.”

“What if I want you for my breakfast?” Chloe’s hand moved to rest against her stomach, dipping further under her shorts and stroking lightly just above the juncture between her legs.

“Ungh… Breakfast…” Beca briefly wondered how many times she’d squeaked that word in the time since she’d met Chloe. It seemed like a lot. She swallowed. “I would consider… Sweet baby Jesus, Chlo… myself more of a dessert.” Against her will she found herself angling her body to give Chloe better access as her hand slipped lower.  She could always just remake breakfast, right? Then Chloe’s hand stopped.

“Do I smell bacon?” Chloe sniffed the air. “Did you actually make me bacon?”

“What?” Beca blinked. “I… Yes.” She swallowed and tried to refocus again. “Do you… should I get…” She twitched a thumb over her shoulder. “Tray?” Words were complex when the blood was rushing elsewhere.

Chloe laughed as she kissed her one more time. “I love that you make me breakfast in bed, Becs.” She pulled her hand out of Beca’s shorts. “Huh. That’s… well that’s a phrase with two meanings.” Chloe giggled wickedly.

Beca rolled her way off the bed and groaned, sticking with the original intent of Chloe’s words. “I love that you all finally taught me how to cook things without burning the place down.” Beca had always been horrible in the kitchen; it was a long standing joke that all she was good for was coffee. But she had wanted to contribute more to the cooking while they were in college, for reasons she still wasn’t sure she understood, so the Bellas had taken turns teaching her one breakfast food throughout that first year in the house.

 Chloe had taught her to make bacon after several weeks and false fire alarms. Beca still flinched every time it popped, grease screen or not. The day she discovered there was a company that made actually good microwavable bacon in a pouch, she was set for life. Unless it was something special, like for Chloe’s birthday, then she did it the traditional way.

Stacie had taught her how to make eggs, scrambled, fried and over easy, as well as bacon and cheese omelets, which had become Beca’s signature go to. She still wasn’t sure about adding milk to it, it went against everything she’d seen growing up, but she did it rather than face her wrath. Plus, they were eggcellent, if she said so herself. Which she did, often, to the groans of the others.

Jessica and Ashley had taught her pancakes, though they never turned out a perfect circle. Chloe said that just meant they were unique, like Beca.

Flo had taught her how to make Huevos rancheros, which sounded intimidating until she was told it basically eggs and a few other things mixed with chorizo, which also intimidated her until she found out it was essentially a spicy sausage.

Cynthia Rose had tried to teach her waffles, but after several failed attempts, Beca stuck with Eggos. Once in a while she’d help Chloe make them, but she’d accepted it was never going to be something she did well.

Amy said she would teach Beca a food from her homeland, but that just turned out to be the fact that she put the milk in the bowl before the cereal. “What kind of monster does that, Amy?”

No one could understand what Lilly was trying to teach, but when she pulled out a steak knife, most of them evacuated the kitchen, including Beca.

When they first moved into the condos, Aubrey had offered to teach Beca how to make French toast. Hesitantly, mostly out of PTSD from Bellas training, Beca had agreed. She had been more than pleasantly surprised to find that Aubrey was a patient teacher in the kitchen. She took her ability to break down a routine and used it to make the steps easy to remember. Beca didn’t do it that often, her slices turned out soggy more often than not, but on several occasions where Stacie would travel with Chloe, Beca would surprise Aubrey with French toast for breakfast. Beca always tucked away the shy, pleased smiles whenever Aubrey would come out and find a plate being loaded for her.

 As Chloe sat up and arranged their mass of pillows as a backrest, Beca paused as she admired how that put her wife’s naked form on display. Since Beca had taken the day off, she had woken Chloe up just after midnight with a whispered “Happy Birthday on Hump Day.”  Chloe had let out a sleepy laugh and let Beca thoroughly make love to her until they passed out in a warm mass in the center of their bed. That was another tradition Beca hoped to be able to continue and her favorite so far.

Beca brought the tray over to the bed and set it down as far as her arms could reach. “Wait!” She stopped Chloe from grabbing it. Beca climbed carefully on the bed and shuffled on her knees until she was able to lift it and set it gently over Chloe’s lap. She took the cloth napkin and flicked it open, draping it across her chest like a bib. “There.” When Chloe arched her eyebrow Beca shrugged. “Gotta protect the girls from any spillage.”

“Our hero.” Chloe deadpanned as she rolled her eyes.

“Breakfast is served.” Beca lifted the lid off the plate with a flourish. She’d made Aubrey’s French toast recipe, taking extra care to avoid her sometimes soggy results, with a couple scrambled eggs and a side of bacon. Sitting beside the plate was a small container of syrup and the tiny salt and pepper shakers they’d stolen from their many hotel stays.

“Becs, that’s real bacon. Not your microwavable pouch bacon.” Chloe’s eyes sparkled. “You do love me!”  She poured syrup over her pre-buttered – Beca had the amount memorized at this point – French toast with a small pool to dip her bacon in.

“Until my last breath and probably beyond.” Beca smiled and leaned down for a kiss. She watched as Chloe took her first bite and moaned appreciatively. “I’ll be right back.” She scuttled off the bed and to the hall table where she’d left her own tray. She came back in, repeating the process to settle on Chloe’s left. Her own plate held her normal omelet and she applied the salt and pepper liberally.

“So, what do you want to do today, birthday girl?” Beca watched as Chloe thoughtfully finished her bite of food.

“You mean other than you?” Chloe wiggled her eyebrows. “That joke never gets old, by the way.”

“I hope not.” Beca’s voice was scandalized. “And yes, other than me.”

Chloe dunked some bacon in syrup and ate it. “I didn’t actually have anything in mind this year.”

“Chlo, you’re too young to be treating this as ‘just another day’ like my grandma.”

“I know. But. I just feel like things are perfect. I can’t think of anything I want to add. I do wish I’d have thought about a day trip to Disney earlier, it might not be so bad this early in June on a weekday.”

Beca’s mouth dropped open. “Oh man! Disney on Hump Day? That… I’m so disappointed in myself for not thinking of that!”

“Stacie would kill us if we went without them, especially on my birthday. I didn’t think of it until yesterday, way too late for either of them to arrange the day off.”

Beca nodded, her mind filing the idea away for future celebrations. “Alright. So. If you have no plans… Let’s spend a leisurely morning here, and I’ll take you out to lunch. Then we have dinner with the girls.”

“Sounds like a perfect day to me.” Chloe reached over and took Beca’s right hand, bringing it up to her mouth for a kiss. “Thank you, love.”

As Beca went to respond, Chloe’s phone started to ring. Beca pushed Chloe’s tray down so she could pull her legs free and gingerly roll to the side of the bed to grab it. Beca swallowed, helpless to stop her eyes from roving over the view as Chloe pushed to her hands and knees to reach her phone. Beca’s pulse beat harder and desire stood up and started waving to get her attention, which was already firmly on Chloe’s ass.

“It’s Emily!” Chloe bounced a little and Beca’s mouth went dry.

“Chlo, you can’t FaceTime – you’re naked.” Beca was still trying to wrestle with her desire to ravish her wife again.

“Oh, yeah.” She tossed the phone to Beca. “Answer, I’ll put on a shirt.” She slid off the bed and pulled a drawer open on their dresser.

Beca nodded absently, eyes still distracted by smooth skin. “Yeah, sure.” She looked down and hit answer before it went to voice mail. “Yo, Legacy.”

Emily’s smiling face filled the screen before her eyebrows furrowed. Her mouth was open, probably to sing ‘Happy Birthday.’ “You’re not Chloe.”

“I’m so glad college is helping train that sharp brain of yours.” Beca forked up another small bite of her food.

“Shut up.”  Emily stuck out her tongue.

“She’s getting dressed.” Beca’s tone was sly. “She wasn’t camera ready.” She loved watching that disconcerted look cross Emily’s face. She waited, knowing what was coming. It was one of her favorite things about Emily and Beca loved to provoke her into saying it.

“Gross.”  But Emily was smiling, her tone affectionate.

“Beca, don’t scar Emily with that sex talk.” Chloe said as she crawled back onto the bed, grabbing a stand for the phone as she did so.

“Aca-mom 2, you can’t say sex when I know you’re naked!” Now Emily sounded, and looked, to Beca’s amusement, scandalized.

Chloe settled back in, pushing her tray against Beca’s. She balanced the phone in the stand so it sat on both trays and they could both see Emily and she them.

“Happy Birthday, Chloe!” Emily waved at her.

“Thanks, sweetie!” And she devoted her attention to the phone when Emily began to sing to her.

Beca waited half a heartbeat before she joined in. It had been too long since she’d sung with Emily, the girl – young woman, she corrected herself – she’d taken under her wing her senior year. Well, eventually. It was more accurate to say ‘when Beca finally got her shit together after the retreat’. She smiled at Emily’s excited grin as their voices blended. She heard a sniffle and looked over as Chloe wiped a few tears from her eyes.

“I love you guys.” Chloe smiled. “I don’t know how much more perfect this day can get, and it’s barely started.”

Beca squeezed her hand and went back to eating, letting them catch up. After a bit, she heard Chloe ask something she’d been wondering at for a while.

“How come I’m ‘Aca-mom 2’?”

“Well…” Emily’s voice trailed off and she squinted a bit.

“Spit it out, Legacy.” Beca nodded. “You know she’ll get it out of you anyway.”

Emily took a deep breath. “You kinda scared me my first year, Chlo.”

Beca interjected. “Because of the crazy eyes she’d get over Worlds and DSM?”

Chloe still looked a little mortified every time it came up. “I’m so sorry about trying to kill you with my eyes after the riff-off! I never really wanted you to crawl under a rock and die.”

Emily still flushed faintly at the memory. “I know, Chloe. It’s… I forgave you a long time ago. Like the next day when you made me cupcakes.” She grinned. “Though, you were still always nice to me…  Beca kept running out of practice before the retreat. Maybe I’ve had it backwards this whole time.”

“You can’t just choose who your aca-moms are, Legacy.” Beca’s expression was stern, though her lips twitched.

“But, Beca. I technically met Chloe first. So really…”

Beca sighed. “You’re probably right. Plus, she is older. So I guess it-“ Chloe’s hand hitting her in the stomach stopped her words with a gasp. “Though she doesn’t look a day older than when we first met.” Beca said quickly.

Emily beamed at them, her happiness actually radiating through the screen to bathe them both in its warmth.

They spent the next half hour catching up while Beca and Chloe finished their breakfasts, before Emily finally had to go for class.

“I can’t wait to see you guys at the Reunion. And in October!” Emily bounced in her seat. “I miss you guys so much.”

“You miss Disneyland, you mean.” Beca pointed at her. “That’s ok. I get it. We’re second on your list.”

“Shut up.  Disney is just like, a bonus to seeing all of you.”

“Don’t let her fool you; she’s bummed because we didn’t think about a day trip to Disney for today.” Chloe leaned her head onto Beca’s shoulder, careful not to bump the trays.

Emily’s eyes widened. “Oh. Em. Aca. Gee! That would have been amazing.” Her eyes darted over to Beca who nodded slightly. She knew Emily was thinking of next year just like Beca. They really were an aca-family. “I love you, Aca-Moms! Happy Birthday, again, Chloe! Tell my Aca-Aunts I said hello for me! I’ll call them this weekend.”

“Wouldn’t Aubrey be more of your aca-grandmother?” Beca pondered out loud before she could stop herself.

“I am not calling her that!” Emily gasped, shocked. “She’d make me do cardio or something!”  Her voice dropped into a whisper. “For life!”

“Besides, she’s as old as me. What’re you trying to say Beca? Again, I might add.” Chloe’s voice purred in her ear.

“Uh…” Beca swallowed. “It’s cause she gradua-… firs… Heh-” and she trailed off as Chloe’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Uh huh. Keep going.”

“No, I think I’m good just dropping this here. Aca-Aunts it is.”

“Probably best.” Chloe looked back at Emily. “Love you, Em!” She blew her a kiss.

“Make good choices, Legacy.” Beca grunted at the elbow in her side. “What? She knows that’s how I say ‘I love you’!” Emily laughed, nodding.

“Beca.” Something in her voice made Beca meet her eyes and she saw Chloe’s eyebrow wing its way up. “You said that to me on your first Hood Night. Like, literally the fourth day we ever saw each other.” Her tone was almost shy and definitely quietly pleased.

Beca stopped, aware that Emily’s face shot had shot closer to her phone. She ran through that night in her mind, her lips twisting slightly as she hit that moment. “I… Oh. I did. Huh. Right after that whole jiggle juice thing.” Beca grinned as Chloe blushed. “I was so fucking stupid.”  Chloe’s soft look was starting doing things to her insides, pulling and tugging, demanding she get closer.

Emily’s squeal would have made Ashley proud. “You guys are perfect.”

“Bye, Legacy. I’m about to do something that would scandalize you completely.” Beca’s hand reached blindly for the phone. She turned in time to see Emily’s face change, caught between horror and delight.

“Oh, GROS-“ The laughter cut off as Beca ended the call.

“Why, Mrs. Mitchell…” Chloe ran her hand down Beca’s arm as Beca handed her the phone. “Whatever could you have in mind?” She set it out of the way.

Beca was silent for a moment, as she moved out from under her tray and scooted to the edge of the bed, tugging it after her. “I’m going to make last night look like a warm up to the main event.”

“Oh. My.” Chloe bit her lip, her eyes darkening. “That’s a mighty big claim.” She lifted her tray to the side as Beca came around to get it after setting her own on the dresser. Setting Chloe’s next to it, she faced the bed.

“You’ll have to grade me later.” Beca moved closer and stripped out of her clothes, feeling Chloe’s eyes on her. “Let me know if I lived up to your expectations.” She stalked across The Expanse as Chloe pulled her shirt back off.

“You usually do.” She tugged Beca over until she was straddling Chloe’s leg.

Beca lowered herself slowly, savoring the pressure sliding between her thighs. “Usually?”

“Oh yeah.” Chloe pulled their bodies together. “Okay, maybe more like, all the time.”

Beca leaned her head down, stopping to whisper against her lips. “Happy Birthday, Chlo.”

 ~C~

 Chloe sighed happily as she leaned back in the passenger seat of Beca’s convertible. After a completely wonderful breakfast in bed, a conversation with her aca-child and a second bout of birthday sex, she really couldn’t have planned the day any better than this. She smiled to herself. She was going to have to do some thinking about how to celebrate Beca’s. Beca did need a new laptop, but... It was on a Saturday this year, so maybe… She’d think on that a bit longer, maybe talk it over with Aubrey and Stacie.

She stretched a bit, all the right muscles just a little bit sore; Beca certainly had made good on her promise after breakfast. She’d never admit it, but Chloe kind of needed a nap after all that. Especially after the lunch they’d just eaten. So it was with surprise that she noticed they were driving past their exit. “Is this a kidnapping?”

“Maybe.” Beca kept her eyes on the road but turned down Lauv’s ‘I Like Me Better’ that she’d been singing with. “Maybe I’m taking you to my secret lair.”

Chloe leaned on the arm rest between them. “Beca, the only places you’d call your lair is your studio at work or at home.”

“Rats. This is true.” Beca snapped her fingers. “Curses, foiled again.”

Chloe settled back against the seat, eyes closed as the sun warmed her while the breeze blew over them. Beca had gotten the BMW 4 series convertible – in black sapphire metallic, of course – when she’d gotten promoted to full time producer last year. The bonus she’d gotten had made the perfect down payment. Originally she wanted to get something more practical for them, but Chloe had insisted they get something fitting for Beca’s new title. She was perfectly happy with the car they’d gotten upon reaching LA. It’s not like she had to impress artists or anything, just haul around a bunch of singing teenagers to their dance competitions or for pizza and ice cream.

They had fun picking out the bells and whistles – the M sport design, executive package, night blue Dakota leather upholstery, aluminum dark carbon trim, the driving assistance package that Beca thought ridiculously unnecessary – and literally every single option the car came with.

Chloe opened her eyes as they slowed to make a turn. “What…” She looked at Beca. “Why are we in a Cadillac dealership?”

Beca parked her car. “Sec.” She got out and moved around the back to Chloe’s side. “Madame.” She opened the door and held out her hand.

“Becs?” Chloe felt excitement beginning to bubble up.

Beca stepped back until the whole of the lot was behind her. She held out her arms. “Pick one.”

“What?” Chloe was sure she’d heard wrong. “Did you just say…”

“Pick one. Happy Birthday!” Beca rocked back on her heels, clearly pleased with herself.

Chloe had to whisper it. “For serious?”

Beca whispered back. “Dixie Chicks serious.”

Chloe squealed and launched herself forward, almost bringing them both to the pavement. She dropped kisses all over Beca’s face before planting several very thorough ones on her lips.

Beca laughed and spun her around. “Seriously though… Pick one. Whatever catches your eye. Whatever you want to put in it. On it, whatever.”

“Careful, Mitchell. I’ll take you up on that.” Chloe stepped back and tilted her head.

Beca leaned forward. “Dare you.”

And Chloe had taken her up on it, boy had she.

Once she settled on the Escalade, the salesman had finally come over after Beca had waved him off the first time.  He kept showing her different options, and she kept adding them and Beca kept smiling. At the end of it, what she’d come up with was a 4WD Platinum trim (which seemed to be just a super luxury package) Escalade in Crystal White. She’d selected every option like they’d done with Beca’s, including a 4 bike carrier that could added to their trailer hitch, as well as innumerable roof carriers for whatever was required for Chloe’s competition trips and hauling her kids and their outfits. She may also have been envisioning various road trips the four of them could take when she added the ski carrier.

When they were all done, and she saw the price, she’d barely kept her gasp contained. She fully expected Beca to laugh and tell her ‘ok, funny joke, let’s get real now.’ But what Beca had said was…

“We’ll take it.”

Chloe had had been unable to speak, her ears filling with white noise for a second as the world faded out. “Becs..?”  There was no way –

But the salesman was already shaking hands with her wife. “We actually have a fully loaded one on the lot, in that color. It won’t take long to get the carriers together; we can load them in the cargo area for you.”

The world came back in an instant. “Wait. That’s – Beca. How can we?”

Beca reached over and took her hand. “Yes. We can. Joel Cain signed with the label Monday. I got a bonus. This one’s for you. But I’d have done it anyway without it.”

Chloe barely restrained from throwing herself in Beca’s lap out of excitement. The news that Beca had actually gotten Joel to sign with the label was aca-mazing and she was so proud of her. The prospect of a new car was just a cherry on top.

She turned around. “So, wait.” The salesman looked up from gathering the paperwork. “You have one of these, with all this.” She pointed at all the checkmarks she’d made on a list. “In stock. Now. On this lot.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He smiled at her. “You’ll get to drive it out of here once we get the paperwork done.” He stood. “I’ll go work with the finance guys. I’ll be back.”

Beca nodded. “Thanks, Barry.”

Chloe was up the second he was out of the office and pulling Beca to her feet. She hugged her tightly before pulling back to look her in the eyes. “Are you-“

Beca shut her up with a kiss. “Positive. We got this, love.”

Chloe let out another squeal and pulled her into another tight hug.

Best. Birthday. Ever.

~B~

Stopping at home to drop off Beca’s car, the two of them were going to go for a drive in Chloe’s new car. Beca took advantage of it and ran up to their room to brush her teeth. Midway she wandered over to her closet, thinking about changing to a lighter top, and as she turned around, she happened to look out her window, thinking she’d get Stacie to help her take out all the carriers and store them in the garage.

Her head slowly tilted, the brush idly held in her mouth. “Huh. So. Aubrey’s a boob woman. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”

She continued to watch, without really thinking about it, as across the way a topless Stacie was standing at the foot of their bed, head thrown back, while an equally topless Aubrey nuzzled at her breasts. Beca noted the way Aubrey would pull back a little before swooping back in and –

“HOLY FUCK! WHAT AM I DOING?!” Beca’s eyes shot wide in panic, the toothbrush angled out of one corner of her mouth, forgotten. “WhatdoIdoohgod.”

Beca, was in full prudish panic mode, and spun to look back into her own room. This was something she should not be seeing right now. Though, really, to be more honest, this was something she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to see… yet. That was a different animal all together and one she didn’t really have time to work out right then thanks to her current level of freak out.

Cautiously, she closed her eyes and turned around, fumbling for the string to close the blinds. She finally found it by blind luck and started to close them. Until it jerked to a halt. “Oh of COURSE you get stuck right now. Jesus Christ.” Beca jerked at the cords in her frustration. “Goddamned…. Blinds… fuckery… always happens… when it’s least convenient. Which is always.” The blinds snapped all the way up with a crash. “Fucking…”

Beca opened her eyes in frustration, momentarily forgetting why she had closed them. Until a vivid reminder sprang into view as Aubrey’s arm looked like it was moving back and forth, hand below Beca’s line of sight, and Stacie had wound her own hand into the back of Bree’s hair, pulling her head back, bringing Aubrey’s chest into sharp relief.  “Oh my God. They’re totally sexing in front of my eyes.”  She frantically tried to get the blinds down, but every time they got halfway they would stick and she would have to rake them to the top and start again.

She was so caught up in her curse laden and ongoing battle with the window treatments that it took her a minute to realize something had changed. Against her will, she looked across their yards before she could stop herself.

Aubrey and Stacie, still TOPLESS for fucks sake, were standing in the window, watching her. Beca watched as Aubrey’s hand came up, but it felt like everything was moving in slow motion like some film about an existential crisis Jesse had made her watch in college. The hand waved back and forth and Beca’s eyes shifted over as Stacie started laughing. Beca didn’t think her eyes could get wider as the panic mixed with mortification at being caught and, well yes, hello there lust. She swallowed as Stacie stepped behind Aubrey, her hands coming up to cover Aubrey’s breasts until Aubrey grabbed one, pushing it down over her stomach. And lower. Aubrey’s head leaned back against Stacie’s shoulder and that’s about when Beca mentally slapped herself. Repeatedly.

Completely unsure which emotion swirling through was stronger, though mortification was tying with too-rapidly-rising lust, she flattened herself against the wall like a cat burglar caught in the act. A high pitched hysterical giggle filled the room. “Maybe... yeah, no... Maybe they didn’t see me… Maybe?”

“Becs?” She could hear Chloe’s voice coming up the stairs. “Are you ok, babe?”

“Yes! Yeah. Yep. Everything is fine. Here. In our room. Nothing. Uh. Nothing is going on across the way. Nope.”  Beca’s eyes darted around the room even though she wasn’t sure what she was looking for. Maybe just an escape from the moment.

“I…” Chloe stopped in the doorway. Beca knew how she must look, pressed into the wall. Her eyes felt wide and probably crazy and, oh yeah, she had been brushing her teeth, so she probably looked rabid on top of it.

‘Fuck, I totally look like a rabid fucking cat burglar right now.’

“What’s all this?” Chloe’s finger wiggled at her. “This is new.” She walked into the room.

Beca waved her back as she hissed, “No, they’ll see you!”

“Who?” Chloe moved over and looked through the window. “And why are you whispering?”

“Aubrey and Stacie! They’re –” Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, unable to say the words. Chloe just stared at her, waiting. “TheyarehavingthesexandIthinktheysawmelooking.”

Chloe looked at her like she’d just grown horns. “Did you just say ‘having the sex’ like an old person?”

Had she? “Oh my god. Maybe?”

Chloe said, slowly. “I thought you were interested in this kinda thing. Isn’t that why we had our big talk?”

“We had our talk. I don’t know if they did! I don’t know if we’re allowed!” Beca flailed her arms. “This is like - sacred stuff if you’re not allowed!”

“Well – Oh.” Chloe stopped, her inflection changing to greatly intrigued as she leaned toward the window. “Are they naked?” She didn’t sound scandalized, like Beca thought she should, but this was Chloe and she was always more open with the ‘sex stuff’ as Beca had once called it.

“OH MY GOD. DON’T LOOK. Close the blinds, they’re not working for me again!”

Chloe stepped closer to the window.  “Oh. Why, yes they are. Aubrey just turned her back to us and pushed Stacie down on her knees.” She sounded curious, more than anything, and Beca couldn’t believe she was standing their calmly like she was describing a golf game. “And… OK. Bree obviously keeps up her training more than I thought. I didn’t know that her leg could go that far to the side. Maybe Stacie’s been working with her on her splits.” After a pause, Chloe cracked up at her own statement. “In more ways than one.”

Beca felt trapped between two very strong emotions. She still firmly believed that she wasn’t allowed to see any of that because the four of them haven’t had a talk about it. But, ok, yeah. She kinda wanted to look.

Instead she just looked up as Chloe asked her, “Do you think we should get a notepad and offer scores on the most difficult positions? Or take notes, in case, you know.”

Beca eyes slipped closed. “Oh. My. God.”

“Like, I feel I should get popcorn and take the drive later.” Chloe snickered. “We’ll just watch Stacie take Bree for a drive.”

“Dude! Privacy!”

Chloe scoffed. “Hey, they’re the ones that didn’t close the blinds once they realized you were ogling them.”

Beca’s response was instant and indignant. “I was not ogling!” Except she was fully aware that was a lie. She totally had been. And, if she were to start being honest with herself, maybe wanted to do again.

“Then?”

“We’re not allowed yet!” But, Bree had been standing there, letting Stacie touch her, knowing Beca was watching. Maybe they were allowed. Curiosity was now rising beside the other emotions clamoring for her attention.

“Yet?” Chloe turned to look at her, one hip resting against the window sill.

“IF EVER. Oh my god.” Beca idly wondered how many times had she said ‘oh my god’ in the last five minutes alone.

Chloe’s eyes turned back to the window and widened. “Oh, my.”

Beca couldn’t fight it anymore, she had to look. She was only human after all. She leaned forward and peeked around the window frame. The window across the way was empty. She turned her eyes to Chloe, who quickly stepped back out of range, laughing.

“You should see your face right now.” Chloe’s eyes sparkled in the sunlight.

“You’re lucky it’s your birthday.” Beca paused and had to take a deep breath as Chloe’s smile widened. “And still that pretty.” She closed her eyes and took another breath. “I can’t believe you punked me like that.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. Most of it was true.”

“What?” Beca blinked at her, feeling like she was still running a few steps behind.

“Yeah, no. They dropped to their bed just before you looked. But everything else totes happened.”

“So. They’re totally having sex. Right now. While we’re talking about it.” Beca said it slowly, as if she were processing at half speed. “Just… out of sight.

Chloe was already nodding. “Oh, totes. If we got the step stool we’d probably be able to look over and down onto the bed. We could always ask them to move it in front of the window for next time.”

Beca stared at her. “You… can’t be serious?”

Chloe stepped up to her and gently took the toothbrush that Beca had forgotten about out of her mouth. “Can’t I?” She placed a kiss to the corner of Beca’s mouth and put the toothbrush in her hand. “Why don’t you finish that up and we’ll go for a ride, yeah?” She spun on her heel and sashayed out the door, with far more hip sway than was necessary outside of a strip tease or catwalk.

“Uh…” Beca felt what was left of her brain melt and settle between her thighs.  She called after her, “I mean… we could always give a return show…?”  She ignored the quiver the thought of the others watching her and Chloe sent through her. There was already too much going on in her head to add that to the mix.

But Chloe was already downstairs, leaving Beca alone with her toothbrush and the knowledge of what was going on in the house behind her.

“Maybe I have time for a cold shower before we leave.” Beca muttered to herself as she went back in the bathroom to rinse out her mouth.

 ~A~

 Aubrey pushed her chair back from her dining room table and stretched her legs out. “I can’t eat another bite.”

“Dinner was amazing, Bree, thank you.” Chloe reached over and squeezed her hand.

“Anything for the birthday girl.” Aubrey smiled at her before cutting a look at Beca. “Nice ride you got your girl.”

Beca jumped, a guilty look flashing over her face. “What?”

“The Caddy.” Stacie let out a whistle. “That is one nice looking tank you picked, Chloe.”

Beca leaned on the table. “I couldn’t tell you liked it, what with the lying on the hood like you were at a car show. Again.”

Chloe snorted with laughter but ignored her. “I know, right? Totally over the top. But… The ride was so smooth.” Chloe winked as Stacie leered at her. “But, it’ll keep me and the kids safe in the event that something stupid happens.” She sat up in her chair. “Plus, we can totally take all our gear in one car now, including our bikes, when we want to torture Beca with nature.”

Beca’s face morphed into a frown. “I don’t mind nature.” She scratched her nose. “I like sitting by the pool. It’s the ‘peddling through heat’ thing that gets me.”

“Cardio is good for you, Becs.” Stacie leaned over to ruffle her hair but Beca ducked out of the way.

“Why am I always saying ‘why cardio’ to you people?” Beca huffed and drank the last of her wine.

“Because you love us.” Aubrey said it simply. It was a fact that could still surprise her once in a while.

“Touché.” Beca shrugged. “Fine, we’ll take a trip soon. And I won’t even bitch about it. Much.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.” Stacie leaned one elbow on the table. Aubrey recognized the look on her face and tried to keep hers expressionless. Stacie had already talked to her about what was going to happen next. Aubrey was kind of looking forward to it. “Speaking of seeing.” Beca froze in the act of picking up the wine bottle to pour them all a bit more. Chloe reached over and took it, doing it for her.

“I don’t suppose we could all agree to never speak of this?” Beca’s face was turning an interesting shade of red that Aubrey hadn’t seen before.

“Isn’t the phrase ‘never speak of this again’.” Aubrey nodded her thanks at Chloe and picked up her refilled glass.

“No, ‘again’. Period. I would really like to not…”

Stacie interrupted. “Talk about how you totally were getting off on-“

“I WAS NOT.” Beca looked embarrassed. “I didn’t even mean… It was an accident… The blinds wouldn’t close…”

Aubrey started to laugh. “That’s what gave you away, by the way.” Chloe looked at her quizzically as she sat down. “The blinds were just going up and down.”

Stacie snickered. “It was like some sort of fucked up Morse code and went on for like - ever.”

“Oh god, please let me die right now.” Beca slumped forward and put her head in her hands.

“Aww.” Chloe reached over and rubbed her arm. “It’s ok, Becs. We’re all friends here. Very close friends apparently.” Beca just groaned again.

Aubrey took pity on her. “Beca.” Her tone pulled Beca’s eyes up immediately. “It’s ok.” The echo to her conversation with Stacie wasn’t lost on her. “I’m not mad. I mean, obviously. We waved at you.” She decided to leave it unspoken that they just as obviously were putting on a show.

“Me either, if anyone cares.” Stacie waved at the table.

“I’ve seen you parade through the Bella house when you forgot a towel,” Beca said dryly.

Stacie waved her hand across the table. “Like Aubrey said. We’re not mad.” And her voice changed at the last word, making Aubrey narrow her eyes. “It was ridiculously hot, actually.”

Aubrey laughed as Beca took a huge gulp of wine. “Stace,” she chided, though she thought it was obvious she didn’t mind.

Stacie held up her hands. “What?! It was!” 

Stacie was absolutely right, and it still greatly surprised Aubrey that she had felt the same way. It was hot enough that Aubrey didn’t even think about pulling away or closing their blinds, which was what she would have done before her talk with Stacie the month before. But today… and she didn’t really know what all Beca had seen before they saw her, though she could guess. The thought that Beca might have been watching when Aubrey had slid her fingers into Stacie – well that was enough to cause more than a little arousal even all these hours later. It had made her bold enough to stand there, proudly. Agree to let Stacie cup her breast from behind, to push Stacie’s hand down between her legs to see how long Beca would watch them. To wonder how it had made Beca feel to watch it. If she… enjoyed it and was affected as strongly as Aubrey was by knowing Beca was there.

Aubrey smiled to herself. Though even in that moment, she had known that Beca’s top emotion was going to be panic. So it didn’t surprise her when Beca had quickly darted out of view, but it may have disappointed her just a little, which did surprise her a bit. And while they had chuckled over it, it hadn’t changed what they were doing. Not even when Chloe took Beca’s place. Though, she admitted, she had turned her back, not quite ready to be that open. Literally, considering what Stacie was doing with her mouth at the time.

‘Lord, we really all need to talk about this soon. There are too many different ways this could fall apart if we don’t.’ Aubrey shifted in her chair, both hating and enjoying the frission of desire stretching its claws down her spine. ‘Not tonight, but soon.’

Chloe traced the rim of her glass. “You guys were just celebrating the holiday.”

All of them looked at her, confused, but it was Beca who asked it. “What holiday?”

Chloe shrugged. “Hump Day.”

As the others cracked up, Chloe simply sipped her wine, looking beyond pleased with herself.

Beca wiped a tear from her eye. “I walked right into that.”

Chloe nodded. “Both eyes. Wide open.”

Aubrey stood up. “Alright, I’ll clean the table, you guys go sit on the couch.”

Beca stood and stretched. “I’ll help.” She waved her hand dismissively when Aubrey tried to stop her. “Whatever, it’ll get done faster. Besides, it’s not like the Bella house days, you guys have a dishwasher. I just gotta rinse and throw them in.”

Aubrey shook her head but relented. With Beca’s help they were done quickly, which Aubrey kind of wished they weren’t. She and Beca didn’t get to spend quiet time like this together very often. Maybe that needed to be another thing that happened soon. Find some reason to send their wives out to play while she and Beca… Well, she wasn’t sure yet, exactly, but she had a half image of Beca working on music while Aubrey read over contracts on the couch in Beca’s studio. It was a warmly domestic image that she usually associated with Stacie or, back in their college days, studying with Chloe. It helped tamp down the lingering desire into simple contentment.

The thought made Aubrey smile as she walked back into the living room and found Stacie braiding Chloe’s hair. She settled on the other side of the sectional with Beca. “Birthday braids. Good choice.” She’d just leaned back when she remembered that they still had to give their gifts. “Oh! I’ll be right back.” She set down the wine glass she’d brought in with her and went upstairs to her office. She had to lift a few folders until she found what she was looking for.

She laughed as she came back down. “We almost forgot.” Aubrey set the two envelopes on Chloe’s lap before sitting down again. “Happy birthday, Chlo.” She sat back down beside Beca who handed her the wine glass again. “Thanks, B.”

Chloe ran her fingers over them. “Aw, you guys. You didn’t have to.”

Beca snorted into her glass. “She’s on this ‘it’s just another day’ kick today.”

“Except it wasn’t just another day. You guys have all made it kind of perfect. I need to find a word better than ‘perfect.’” Chloe smiled. “Guess I haven’t reached Grandma Stage after all.”

Aubrey was indignant. “I certainly hope not. I don’t like to think what that’d say about me.”

“That you’re old.” Beca deadpanned beside her before grinning impishly as Aubrey’s jaw dropped. “Which you most definitely are not.”

“Nice save.” Aubrey raised her glass slightly before turning back to Chloe expectantly. “Well?”

“Hold on, just gotta do the ends.” Stacie finished her braid and sat back to admire her handiwork. “There. Perfect.” She nodded. “Go on.”

Chloe picked up the first envelope, her name in Aubrey’s neat handwriting, and opened it eagerly. “Ooh. A spa day before the reunion?!” She looked up at Aubrey, eyes dancing. “I love you!”

Aubrey laughed. “Glad you like it. I wasn’t sure-“

“Are you kidding? A day being pampered with my bestie? What’s not to love?” Chloe looked back down at the reservation and ran her fingertips across it. “Seriously Bree, I can’t wait.” She folded the paper and put it back in the envelope before turning to the other, unlabeled, envelope in her lap.

Beca nudged Aubrey. “You did good. The timing on that is perfect. She always worries, though she won’t admit it, about the reunion.”

“That’s cause of Alice.” Aubrey’s lip curled. She wasn’t always as thrilled about her reunions as she once thought she would be. There was always that bit of tension when they walked in, waiting to see if she’d hear ‘Oh, it’s you slut bags’ from the side. It hadn’t happened yet, which made the rest of the night more enjoyable. Well, and that and all the rest of her Bellas, new and old. She was learning to just enjoy watching Beca scan the area before leading them in and stop letting it get to her. Once the pressure was off, they always had a good time.

“You mean That Whore Alice™.” Beca’s lip curled to match.

“Let’s… not think of her now.” With Beca nodding, Aubrey turned back as Chloe started laughing and threw her arms around Stacie.

 “You’re welcome.”

Beca looked confused as Stacie’s words were directed at her instead of Chloe. “What?” She looked from her wife to her friend as Chloe continued to giggle helplessly. “I’m missing something.”

Her words caused Chloe to laugh harder and Aubrey couldn’t help but laugh with her. “Chlo, you’ll have to show her.”

Chloe handed over the card she’d opened. Aubrey watched Beca scan the flowery and sentiment laden Hallmark moment.

“Yeah?” Beca shook her head. “I don’t get it.” She took the paper that Chloe then handed over.

The font for the first two lines was huge, Stacie was just obviously trying to fill the entire page in landscape mode. The rest of the lines were in slightly smaller print below.

 One IOU for Chloe Beale Sex Toy Shopping Sextravaganza And some lunch if we work up an appetite being hot. Which, let’s face it. We will. Because we’re hot. From Stacie Conrad

 “Oh for the love of…” Beca began to laugh helplessly, leaning on Aubrey.

Stacie beamed as she patted Chloe’s back and pulled away. “Exactly, B. For the love.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Making.”

They were interrupted by Chloe’s phone, and they knew it was hers because “Makeba – Dirty Ridin’ Remix” was the ringtone blasting from the kitchen. Beca had made it for her last month and Chloe hadn’t gotten bored yet. She wiped her eyes as she got up, kissing Stacie once before heading into the other room to answer it.

“Are you saying you think I need help in bed, Stacie?” Beca mock glared.

Aubrey’s eyes widened. “Oh Beca, I don’t think you wanna start…” but Stacie grinned wickedly.

“I dunno, B. Yet.”

“Oh… Jesus.” Beca’s face instantly turned red. “I… Yeah, nope. I surrender. Right now.”

Whatever else they might have said was interrupted by a loud squeal of joy from the kitchen. “You are!? WHEN!” Chloe rushed out into the living room. “Guys! It’s Jessica and Ashley, they’re moving to LA!”

“That’s aca-mazing!” Aubrey clapped once and echoed Chloe, “When!?” while Stacie and Beca let out a cheer at the same time.

Chloe just waved her hand. “Shhh. Uh huh… Yeah… No. Oh totes!” She was nodding and smiling like a bobblehead; it always made Aubrey happy to see Chloe so excited. “Definitely. I’ll call you tomorrow when I find his card.” A short pause, then, “No, we’re at Staubrey’s having dinner.” She looked back at the rest of them who were watching her with various degrees of affection.

Aubrey felt her heart thump at the nickname. It may have started as a joke but she loved how it tied her to Stacie. Beca, of all people, said she felt the same way about Bloe, even though it had come up at one of the lowest points of their relationship.

Chloe was nodding, “Sure, one sec. Girls, Jessley wants to say hi.” That was another Amy nickname that had stuck. She often joked that her nicknames had the power to make couples, and with a 3 out of 4 success rate, she might be on to something. She’d tried to make “LillyRose” a thing in college and while everyone had known that was doomed to failure, they were all not-so-secretly happy it had crashed before it left the gate.

Chloe switched from a voice call to FaceTime and Jessica and Ashley appeared on the screen as she turned it toward the couch. Their faces were pressed together as they yelled, “We love you guys! We won’t have to miss you anymore!”

Aubrey, Beca and Stacie yelled “We love you!” at the phone, trying to see who could be louder.

Beca threw herself at Stacie and tried to cover her mouth. “No fair, your lungs are bigger because you’re taller and they have to support your giant boobs!”

“That’s not how bodies work, Beca!” Stacie pushed her back and they fell into an impromptu wrestling match on the couch. It seemed to be more tickling and squealing than headlocks. Aubrey watched them, smiling with affection.

Aubrey heard Ashley ask, “Do they do that often?”

“Unfortunately.” Chloe mock sighed. “They’re like teenagers sometimes.”

“What, like all horny all the time? What, ow, stop hitting me Jessica. It’s a legit question for those two!” Ashley rubbed her arm.

“Perv.” Jessica wrapped her arm around Ashley’s head from behind and covered her mouth. “Sorry about her.”

“It’s not like she’s wrong.” Chloe turned the phone around and winked.

“Ha.” Ashely pulled the hand away from her mouth. “But we’ll let you guys get back to your after dinner wrestling whatever. Happy Birthday again, Chloe.”

“Wait! We have to sing! Chloe, go sit with the girls.” Jessica cleared her throat.

“When did you get so bossy?” Beca asked as she waved Aubrey over to the couch on the other side of Stacie as she flopped breathlessly back into her spot.

Aubrey rose and went were directed. “Hi. Would you like to be pot or kettle?” She laughed as Beca stuck out her tongue when Chloe sat down between Beca and Stacie. “Shall I count us down for old time’s sake?”

“Thanks, Bree.” Ashley said as Jessica smiled widely.

Aubrey switched her gaze from the screen to her best friend.

She counted, softly, “1, 2, 3, 4.”

By the end of the beautifully, if she said so herself, harmonized rendition of “Happy Birthday” Chloe was a sniffling mess. Aubrey reached behind Stacie to give a soft tug on Chloe’s braid and got a watery smile in response.

As they all wished Jessley a good night, Aubrey once again thanked the Universe for putting these women in her life. She couldn’t imagine anything different or anything that could make her life more complete.

“What was that about finding a card?” Beca ran her knuckles down Chloe’s cheek,  smiling when Chloe captured it in her own and brought it to her lips.

“Oh. Uh.” She sniffed once, clearing her throat. “They’re moving. Like, soon. End of July soon. So they wanted to know if there was any housing here.”

“Oh there’s totally empty houses!” Aubrey sat up on the couch. “That would be aca-awesome.”

“Totes, right? I’m going to call them tomorrow when I find that guys number.”

“Oh I have it in my rolodex! I’ll give it to you before you head home for the night.”

“Of course you still have a rolodex.” Beca rolled her eyes.

“That’s saved your bacon once or twice, DJ Titanium. Like when you lost the number for AND forgot the name of the client you were supposed to show around the office last year?”

“Oh. Yeah. Right.” Beca shrugged. “One of us has to be an adult, I suppose.”

Stacie asked, “I really like adult things, does that count?”

Beca answered, “No” at the same time Chloe and Aubrey said, “Yes.”

Stacie was smug. “You’re outvoted, B.”

“Yeah yeah. I’m getting used to it.” Beca rubbed at the side of her nose with her middle finger.

“Real mature.” Aubrey raised an eyebrow.

“You still love me.”

Aubrey sighed. “Unfortunately.”

“Ha.” Beca sat back against the couch. “I win.”

Aubrey grinned to herself as Stacie spoke up, not-so-subtly redirecting the conversation. “Hey, Chloe. Are you getting a personalized license plate?”

“Oh man.” Beca leaned forward again. “This is going to require alcohol.” She leaned over and grabbed her glass from the other side of the table. “For the record, I still think ACA AWES would be fine.”

Aubrey laughed looked at her quizzically and back at Chloe, who perked up. “That does sound like you, so what else could you be thinking of?”

“I’m just having problems deciding between two.” Aubrey just twirled her finger, asking her to keep going. “OK, here they are. I-M-T-H-T-T-S.” She watched as they tried to put it together.

After a second of silence, Beca offered. “I’m the tits.”

Aubrey choked out a laugh. “Chloe!”

Chloe giggled and waved a hand. “No wait. There’s one more. W-R-T-H-T-T-S.”

“’We are the tits’?” Stacie laughed. “That’s actually more perfect than ACA AWES, Becs.”

“Bingo!” Chloe laughed. “I lean more toward the second, because of the whole ‘we’ thing. That could be my team or my wife, and it’s always going to mean the Bellas. Or all of the above.”

Aubrey winced. “But, Chlo… What will your kids’ parents think?”

Beca pointed at her. “See? Adult.”

Chloe’s face fell and Aubrey felt bad. “Oh. I didn’t think of that.”

“Who cares?” They all looked at Stacie. “They’re not paying for it. And she’s already established herself as a responsible, and trophy winning I might add, instructor. That suddenly won’t change cause she quasi has ‘tits’ on her license plate.” Chloe’s smile was getting wider by the second. “They’re not the ones in her bed. Who cares what they think?”

“What does the bed have to do with anything?” Beca asked but now Aubrey was nodding.

“All good points, hon.”

Stacie waited the slightest fraction of a beat. “No, those are on her chest.”

It was just long enough that both Aubrey and Beca were taking a drink and it caused them to simultaneously snort and almost shoot wine out through their nose.

Chloe looked coyly at Stacie and smiled. “Thanks.”

Stacie just leaned back and smiled smugly.

Chloe bounced in place. “So, Bree. What all does this spa have?”

Aubrey jumped up and grabbed her hand. “Oh! I forgot to include the brochure in the card. C’mere, it’s upstairs. I can get you that number too.” She tugged until Chloe got to her feet. “We’ll be back. Behave while we’re gone, will you?”

Beca groaned as they headed upstairs. “You know that just makes Stacie think inappropriate things, Bree.”

 ~S~

After she watched them head out of the room, Stacie looked back and smirked as Beca eyed her narrowly. “It’s like you expect me to jump your bones immediately or something.”

“I ain’t givin’ you no ideas.” Beca sipped from her glass and Stacie saw something shifting behind her eyes. “So, that party that I stupidly suggested we throw.”

Stacie scooted back until she could lean on the arm of the couch. “Yeesss. Not one of your smartest moves, inviting all our offices.”

Beca groaned. “I know. I was in a good mood. Or drunk. Or in a good mood while drunk, I don’t know. Whatever. I think we need to plan better this time, though.”

“What do you mean?”

Beca ticked them off on her fingers. “Last time we ran out of chips before the sun even went down. There was an emergency ice delivery that had to be made by 8. We almost ran out of beer. The last person didn’t Uber their ass out until like 3 in the morning.” That last was said just a little too casually, but Stacie couldn’t find anything in it that felt like it needed to be hidden.

She tilted her head. “You think they’ll be here late again?”

“The party is bigger.” Beca shrugged. “I mean, the invite said to be ready to Uber, no exceptions.” Beca rolled her eyes. “But in a more… office politics correct way. Thanks to Bree and her lawyer-ese.”

Stacie laughed. “You gotta admit it does come in handy sometimes.”

“Whatever. But…” And her eyes did that shifting again. “Yeah. I think it’s going to be really late before we get the last one out the door.” She cleared her throat. “Thankfully we have both Sunday and Monday to recover. I had one mother of a hangover last year.”

Stacie thought she was starting to see what Beca might be getting at peeking around the edges. It had crossed her mind that the party was a perfect time to see if they were all ready to maybe do this thing. Or start the actual talk about it. And, if the past few weeks had been any indication – hell, today alone was like a giant signal fire - it really was just a matter of time. But Beca had a point. They were all super drunk last year. Stacie actually didn’t remember the last person leaving or going to bed. She had woken up in her party outfit, makeup smeared all over her pillow like a cheap whore on a bender. Even Aubrey, while she’d managed to wash off her makeup and change into pj’s, took at least another hour to wake up after Stacie had crawled her way to hug their toilet.

Maybe… this was Beca’s way of telling her to wait. That the answer would be ‘yes’. Eventually.

Or Stacie was totally full of shit and reading things that weren’t there.

She decided to ignore it for tonight and focus on what she could answer without asking potentially awkward questions. “You’re right. Ok, so how about this year…” She thought a minute while Beca waited. “I know Bree has that full list of food and drink. I’ll look at it and see if she accounted for those random outages. Knowing her, she probably did, but I’ll check.” Stacie suddenly grinned. “Have you gotten the playlist ready?”

Beca groaned. “No! Chloe keeps adding things and now Aubrey keeps texting me her ideas.”

Stacie laughed. “That doesn’t surprise me. Is this too much for you, DJ Titanium?” And for once she didn’t mean any of the underlying things that could, and usually did, mean.

Beca glared at her. “Don’t insult my honor, Legs.”

Stacie dodged the decorative pillow thrown at her, laughing easily.

[hiverforesteevee]

Riddler x Tourist!Reader

General Audiences

0 triggers that I know of

AO3

DarkChosenOne233 requested (paraphrased): Fashion student on vacation in Gotham bumps into Chief of Staff Edward Nygma. Flirty Nygma buys Reader breakfast and coffee in exchange for a date! Nygma becomes Reader’s tour guide.

You pretty much passed out after checking in to the Gotham Royal Hotel.  You’d endured a long, stuffy flight and lukewarm temperatures on arrival.  It’s not a tundra or anything, but it’s still colder than you’re used to.  It’s overcast and on the nippy side on chilly.

You debut in Gotham by slipping on some ice right outside a café.  Slapstick isn’t fun when you’re the one slapstuck.

And of course, your ensuing flailing and scrabbling results in you dragging an innocent bystander down with you: a man wearing a suit that costs more than your entire wardrobe, and you never skimp on fashion!  It’s tailored to fit his sly frame with a green shirt providing a pop of color.

“I-I’m sorry!” you scramble off him when you realize you’re staring.

“Don’t apologize,” he helps you up with a smile. “You’re much too adorable to apologize for an accident.”

“Uh, uh um...” you duck your head shyly. “Thank you, Mister...?”

“Edward Nygma: Mayor Cobblepot’s Chief of Staff,” he chuckles.

“Oh, wow! A politician, huh?”

“Hardly. I am primarily an intellectual who seeks to enact his childhood friend’s vision for a crime-free, poverty-free Gotham.”

“Not your vision?”

“Oswald has always been the dreamer between us,” he pushes his glasses back in place. “There’s nothing wrong with idealism, but it’s difficult to convince others that it’s practical.  Most people are dazzled by short-term consequences and blind to long-term benefits.”

“Or dazzled by short-term benefits and blind to long-term consequences.”

“Exactly,” he smiles again as he holds the door open for you. “What brings a fair stranger such as yourself to Gotham?”

“Spring vacation!” you beam. “I’m in the fashion design program at Lynchburg College!”  You model your latest piece: a scarf that takes inspiration from a coral reef documentary.  Swirls billow throughout the item.  You got an A+ for your stunning use of blues, greens, and purples!

“What plans do you have after this?”

“Sightseeing! And, um, maybe ice-skating...  I was going to look up rinks last night, but my flight was exhausting!”

“I guarantee I know the best ice rink in the city as well as its most interesting sights.  Wouldn’t want such a promising person to fall prey to Gotham’s unsavory inhabitants.  All I ask is you endure my presence.”

“...That’s really nice of you. Thanks!  And I’m enjoying your presence, Edward.”

“Feel free to call me Ed.”

“Alright, Ed!”

“What would you like for breakfast, my darling excursionist?”

You order hash browns and pancakes with coffee—two creams, two sugars—while he gets an egg, cheese, and sausage sandwich with hazelnut coffee.

And after that, it’s sightseeing!

Gotham radiates history and style: the Victorian museum with its lamps and lace, the cathedral’s stained glass windows and gargoyles, and the clock tower tolling a baritone chime.  One of your friends said that Batman saved someone from the Joker there!

You shiver.  Joker’s so creepy!

But that can’t be right because Batman allegedly used a rubber duck and toy teeth to do it...

“Yes he did, I’m afraid,” Ed rolls his eyes and grits his teeth. “Just replace ‘damsel in distress’ with ‘Chief of Staff in distress’, and you’ll have the complete story.”

“No!” you can’t believe it! “Are you alright???  You’ve actually seen Batman up close?”

“I am now, and yes I have.”

“Does he really carry shark repellent spray?  My friend Hale insists that he does, but he’s probably joking.”

“I wouldn’t put it past him.  The Dark Knight is seemingly prepared for any altercation; and granted, one ought to be in Gotham.”

“Can he really fly???” your face beams with excitement.

“No, but his cape becomes a glider when electrified.  Why the fascination with our local vigilante?”

“Because he’s a riddle!  My friends and I all have practically started a club dedicated to solving him.  No one knows who is or where he gets all his gear.”

“A riddle, eh?” he chuckles as if you’ve stumbled upon an in-joke. “As for the toys, I would propose that he’s wealthy as that would also explain how he acquired top-notch training in multiple fighting styles.”

“And he has to be someone who doesn’t like guns,” you’re totally geeking out right now!  At Ed’s intrigued eyebrow ascension, you add. “He never uses them in any of the stories I’ve heard.”

“But shark repellant is acceptable to his sensibilities?” he asks, voice lilted with amusement.

“Like I said, Hale’s a weirdo, but he’s my weirdo.”

His eyes take on a fond, faraway tone as he reminisces about something... or someone.

After lunch, he does indeed take you to the best rink in Gotham.  All the skates are patterned with penguins!  You buy a pair as a souvenir and glide across the ice, spinning and swerving to show off your moves to your companion.  He skates well.  He’s agile and refined on the ice whereas you’re wild and carefree.  Your heart feels fuzzy when he reaches out to clasp your hand.

You two work up an appetite skating together, so he takes you out to a restaurant that has a vegetarian menu!  Dinner warms you right up after that chilly ice rink.  His hand clasped over yours helps, too.

Ed takes you back to your hotel and kisses you good night before he departs.  He’s so sweet...

You text your friends all about your day.  They’re all pretty much asleep, but Hale’s awake late wasting time on Tumblr.

Hiver_Frost_Elf: it’s always so cool watching you out on the ice!  i’m glad you made a friend who can actually skate with you ^-^

rewritinghowthestoryends: thanks :) he held my hand all thru dinner :D he’s so handsome when he smirks!

Hiver_Frost_Elf: aww

rewritinghowthestoryends: i was thinking of going to the library tomorrow, so he gave me directions to his favorite one and some recommendations for books i absolutely HAVE to check out!!  he’ll be busy, but he has time for coffee and lunch!

Hiver_Frost_Elf: you’re in the city of BATMAN and you’re READING???  c’mon, you can read in virginia.  do something fun. like a carnival!

rewritinghowthestoryends: READING IS FUN!!! D:< besides, we’re going to the carnival on Wednesday.  and he’s also interested in solving the riddle of the Bat!  mind if I add him to the group chat?

Hiver_Frost_Elf: go right ahead!

Ed hangs his coat up when he gets home.  His happy humming is interrupted by an impish, “Good evening, lover boy.”

“Os, what are you doing in my house???” Ed finds him camping out on the couch like it’s his house instead of Ed’s. “And it’s not humanly possibly for gossip to travel this quickly.”

“I didn’t hear it from humans,” he purrs as he shows Ed a candid from the ice rink.

“Stop calling your employees ‘birds’,” Ed shakes his head as he boils himself a cup of tea. “That’s weird.”

“I’m wealthy enough to be eccentric,” Oswald insists, his eyes lighting up when he hears Ed setting the pot on the stove. “Will you make me one too, pleeease???”

“No! You don’t have time for tea tonight!  You have time to go home and sleep before your early meeting tomorrow to discuss the city’s education budget.”

“Nope. I’m going to sleep here tonight in your cozy home and ferret out all the juicy details about your dalliance with the cutest tourist in Gotham!”

“Oswald Cobblepot!” Ed blushes, stammering half-hearted protests until he gets a text from you inviting you to the illustrious group chat for bat-sleuths.

“And what sweet nothings are you and your beloved texting each other???” Oswald emits kissing noises.

“Shut up, Os!” Ed growls as he sets his username, too distracted to stay angry or focused. “Your usual?”

“Please and thank you!”

ChiefofRiddles has joined the chat.

[thinkingaboutsanfrancisco]

“Whoa, whoa, whoa…”

S cuts through this awful tune like a gust of air, but unfortunately, it’s only incendiary to my infernal state when I notice the seemingly officious little motion he’s doing with his hand; all five of his fingers firmly splaying out to stop me now, after he permitted me to down this fucking poison, and I swear to fucking God...this isn’t happening again. I let it slide on Sunday because I couldn’t get a word in edgewise to correct him of it then, but I’m not about to allow him to call me a greedy bitch for taking up something that he offered, especially when I’m still fucking burning from it. 

“What? You said I could have one!” I snap, hoping that my words can come out before I actually spew. They do, but getting riled up and spitting them out with such force only irritates my lingering urge to cough that I’ve been trying to suppress.

Oh shit. Please don’t let me start throwing up. Please, please, please...

Fortunately, I’m able to extinguish the hacking quick enough to hear him quell my flare of anger when he stands by his offer, yet his admirable virtue can’t erase the disappointment at myself that his joking reminder’s agitated and my face collapses into my palm. Yeah, I know, S. I shouldn’t have gone so hard. It is only 10 and now I’ve fucked up myself so bad that I might be out of commission for the rest of the night. I can’t exactly sell in the bathroom if I’m too busy retching my fucking brains out in there. 

So much for good luck. 

If I weren’t so sick, I’d probably chuckle at that...or when S tells me that I’ll hurt myself by throwing myself back like that as if that’s hypothetical at this point, before he ups the comedic ante by asking me if I “accidentally” breathed in the smell ‘cause c’mon man...no shit. Did you not see my fingers pinching my nose? How could you miss the prime beacon of my amateurism? I think I signaled to everyone in this place that I’ve never drunk before by doing that and the shit was so strong that it barely helped. 

“Yeah, and it was fucking awful. Why?” I ask, finally removing my hand from my face to reveal my faint smile as I wait for him to go ahead and break into another warranted laugh at my stupidity. Seriously man, it’s alright. I looked like a fucking clown...

Two shots in have his loose grin permanently plastered on him, but my answer’s perturbed him to take on a foreign stone-cold serious tone that I don’t understand until he explains that it was dangerous for me to have done that since I could’ve actually choked on the fumes. That should unnerve me too, and it does a little, but I mostly find it relieving that the perception of their potency isn’t driven by my own inexperienced sensitivities; it’s not just me, they are that fucking strong. 

“Have you eaten today?” He randomly asks, jarringly dipping deeper into that level of concern. 

Okay, dad. 

What kind of question is that? Of course I have…

“Yeah, I had a Hot Pocket for dinner about two hours ago and a Snickers a few hours before that…”

— “That’s all you ate the whole day?”

Well...technically no; I grabbed a Mountain Dew and a small bag of Doritos from the vending machine around noon for lunch and ate as much as I could stomach of my microwavable sausage, egg, and cheese sandwich for breakfast too, though that was all the way back at 5 this morning and far from relevant to his question since it wore off at some point. The pepperoni Hot Pocket was just the most recent meal that’s sustaining me, even though I didn’t finish it. 

Not like S needs to know. 

It was more than sufficient though. Chewing’s become such a dull chore to me lately that, outside of the Snickers that tasted incredible, frankly, I would’ve been fine without eating any of it if I didn’t have to. All of it’s nauseated me anyway, but I hate the crash that catches up with me when I haven’t, so I at least try. It sucks sometimes, but whatever. I’m used to it. 

To him, however, this is apparently enough of a dire situation to garner him to have me remind him to take me out to eat again which...is a nice gesture, even if it feels somewhat counter-intuitive. The smells of food frying and variety of sounds can sometimes get to me but talking and listening usually distracts me from that and the food is better at restaurants too, so I’m not opposed to getting treated again. Shit, that sandwich I got from when we went to Tommy’s on Sunday was rough for the first meal of the day, but it was probably the best thing I’ve had all week. I never told him that, though. I never told him anything outside of what I just ate, yet he’s somehow convinced himself my ‘Hot Pocket diet’ is something to be concerned over when it’s really not. 

I still ate, didn’t I? 

I sigh, the defense readily on the tip of my tongue in case he presses me further on it, but I thankfully don’t have to. He acknowledges that it is at least something and finally gets to the point of why he brought it up: to never drink on an empty stomach. 

Ohh...

Well, it’s not as if I was exactly planning on drinking tonight, but the warning makes sense. So much so that, like when he explained about the fumes, the knowledge makes me feel better instead of worse. It wasn’t random intrusion into the details of my daily life, it was the second most obvious conclusion as to why I was undeniably about to throw up all over this bar and, at this point, I’m so grateful that I haven’t thrown up yet that it’s humbled me into not caring about how embarrassing I must’ve been for him to watch. 

He’s far past that anyway. 

He remains sober enough to know too that I can’t be acting so impulsively foolish if I want to fulfill our purpose here, but he clearly cares more to invest the time to correct me than cheaply condemn me condescendingly for not being able to handle my liquor and...it’s weird. Not in a bad way, but I don’t think he’s spared me this much direct earnest guidance before. He’s consumed in this lesson, consumed in wanting me to do this right for my own safety, that he’s got his third shot already in his hand while he explains in detail what I should do if I ever want to take shots again: “So, you see as I’m talking to you, I’m holding it away from my face so that I don’t accidentally get a whiff of the near-toxic fumes. This is important to remember. Now, I’m gonna tilt my head back slightly — not all the way, just a little, then I’m gonna breathe in, take the shot, breathe out. I’m not gonna let it sit in my mouth too long, and I’m gonna relax my throat and take it in one big but smooth gulp…” 

I don’t exactly want to keep going, but I also don’t want the only time I’ve done it to have been improperly either. They’re working for him so far and this one is no exception, so maybe they can for me too if I straighten myself up and follow his instructions. 

“Alright, but don’t forget your own advice. That’s your third one in as equally many minutes. It’s only 10, remember?” I chuckle as I pick up another one, this time keeping a distance while I toast, “The first one was a trial run, so let me set my record straight and try again. For good luck, even if that only means that I don’t get as sick.”

Closing my eyes, I inhale, tilt my head back, bring the rim closer and gulp the tequila down so I can exhale and…

“Shit,” I mutter as I set the empty glass down next to the other one, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand before I glance over and give his expectant gaze the conclusion we both hoped for, “Okay, that was...better. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t like it by any stretch, but uh...that’s ultimately more of my own alcohol bias than anything against tequila specifically. I guess it’s not exactly a secret anymore, and probably never was since I ordered a fucking Coke in a bar, but I don’t drink — well, I hadn’t, anyway — so I wasn’t aware that there was a proper method of execution that eliminates the godawful smells and it really helped me there. I wish I’d known it before I knocked myself on my ass with that first shot ‘cause fuck...I’m still nauseated from it, but hey, you taught me and now I know how so...thanks for that, man. I appreciate it.”

[texanredrose]

Holding Hands

The early morning light streamed in through the window, falling gently across the room until it reached the foot of the bed. Winter was away of the rising sun but her gaze remained unfocused on the far wall as she listened to her wife’s breathing behind her. Yang’s left arm was wrapped around her waist even as the blonde nuzzled into her back, apparently objecting to the growing light filling the room.

They had the weekend free and no plans to fill it with anything other than being with each other, the past six months having been a near sprint from one responsibility to the next. Yang’s responsibilities at Beacon had kept her busy, as she’d covered the classes Blake usually taught while the Faunus had to return to Menagerie to settle some tribal matters, and Winter had her own work load increased as a new incursion of Grimm were spotted in the Vale wilderness near Vacuo’s border. Organizing a joint response and getting enough licensed Hunters, military personnel, and Beacon upperclassmen to execute the plan had taken weeks, fighting through it almost twice as long, and Yang had covered even more classes during that time so Ruby could assist with the response. The blonde had wanted to go herself but they’d agreed that she would worry a bit too much about the students and interfere with their training; that was the same reason she stayed within Beacon’s walls while Ruby oversaw the yearly initiation.

And it brought up a consideration that had sat in the back of her mind since then. Winter hadn’t put it into words, yet, but this weekend seemed as good a time as any. If she didn’t, it would just sit there until she became fixated on it to the exclusion of all else. Honestly, it had already taken up a significant amount of time just from the little, fleeting thoughts over the past few months, and she’d been awake for at least two hours turning it over in her mind already.

Winter ran her hand along her wife’s, rubbing lightly from her elbow down to her wrist a few times before wrapping her fingers around Yang’s hand.

Maybe she’d waited long enough.

Yang muttered and grumbled, hiding further from the growing light in the room. “Five more minutes.”

“You’re usually such a morning person,” she said lightly, a smile coming to her lips as she felt lips press against the nape of her neck after her wife had nosed aside her hair.

“I’ve been in academic hell for six months and I’m now in bed with my wife.” The words sounded somewhat thick from sleep and the woman didn’t seem keen on correcting that. “I’m allowed to tell the morning ‘fuck you’ every once in a while.”

Winter chuckled, rolling over and ignoring the slight protestations so she could see her wife’s face, pressing a kiss between furrowed brows. “I wouldn’t be so violently opposed to the morning, were I you. It might come back to bite you.”

“Is that a promise?” A smile flashed across her lips as her eyes fluttered open, lilac eyes peering up into hers. Yang has sleep crusted at the corner of her eyes and lines of white along her chin from dried drool, evidence she’d slept hard through the night, which made Winter’s smile grow even wider. “You look beautiful in the morning, by the way.”

“You do, too,” she said, and meant every word, reaching up to run her hand through blonde strands and the cowlick atop her wife’s head. “I’m glad you got some sleep. You deserved it.”

“Hey, I wasn’t running around playing hero.” Disregarding their morning breath, Yang leaned in for a kiss and was met halfway. Nothing more than a brush of lips but enough to convey that blissful sort of early morning affection. “Now, I vote we don’t get up until hunger forces us to leave the bed.”

Winter hummed, pretending to mull it over. “May I present an alternative?”

“C’mon, Snowdrift, what’s better than cuddles in bed?” Her wife shuffled closed, burying her face in the other woman’s chest, reaching out with both her arm and stump to try and dissuade any further suggestions.

“How about I go make breakfast while you start the bath?” She pressed a kiss against the blonde’s temple. “We can enjoy a soak together with full bellies. How’s that sound?”

A few beats of silence proceeded a deep inhale, Yang extricating herself and sitting up while stretching. “Okay, good plan, but I will make breakfast. I’m still convinced Schnees shouldn’t be left in kitchens unsupervised.”

“It was one time.”

“Snowdrift, you blew up the microwave.”

“One. Time.”

Yang looked down at her, a smile on her lips as the rising sun caught in golden curls. “Do you really want to make breakfast?”

“Part of me wants to say yes,” she replied, pausing to stretch her arms above her head and sighing. “Yet, another part of me acknowledge you might have a very small point.”

“Oh?” With a smirk, the blonde twisted around, straddling her hips and looking down at her.

No matter what, she was pinned. “Perhaps it would be more prudent to wait until we’ve had more cooking lessons.”

“Let no one accuse you of failing to show vulnerability.” Leaning over her, Yang drew her into a kiss, longer than the last one and lightly nipping at her lips. “Any special requests?”

“The usual is fine.”

“A three egg omelette with eggs whites, cheese, and peppers, three strips of crispy bacon, and two sausage links? Or, hmmm, pancakes- are you in the mood for pancakes?”

She made a thoughtful noise in the back of her throat. “I’m afraid if you make pancakes, your friend will bust down our door.” 

“Nora’s only done that once.” Winter gave her wife a pointed look until she relented with a chuckle. “Alright, alright, no pancakes. I’ll go get everything started.” Yang rolled out of bed, forgoing her prosthetic but grabbing the hair tie off the night stand and holding it just over her shoulder. “And use the sandalwood bomb this time, yeah?”

Taking the hair tie, she lightly pulled the blonde strands into a messy ponytail. Yang could’ve accomplished the task herself, of course, but she took the time to give her wife a kiss just behind her ear, which she suspected was what she really wanted. “Candles, yes or no?”

“Yes, please!” Yang grinned at her from over her shoulder. “But make sure you hurry! Might be able to get some cooking lessons in if you do.”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t want to miss that.” As they separate to attend to their tasks, Winter ran a hand through her own hair, pulling it up into a much less severe version of her usual bun, not minding the stray hairs tickling along the back of her neck. 

She stepped into the bathroom, stopping by the cupboard to collect up the appropriate scented bomb and two long, tapered candlesticks before turning her attention to the Jacuzzi tub she’d insisted they install upon purchasing the house tucked away in Vale. A nice, quiet neighborhood, close to the perimeter wall in the event of an emergency and mostly populated by retired Hunters or those very close to that mark. They were probably the youngest couple on the block which made for an... abundance of advice on marriage and the like from everyone they met. They handled it as best they could- by some miraculous stroke of luck, one of them managed to keep a cool head whenever the other started running hot- and the situations had never quite boiled over into concerning territory yet.

That ‘yet’ did worry her, though, at times, mainly because her own defensiveness sometimes eclipsed her sense.

As she began to fiddle with the settings, setting the tub to fill slowly so they’d have more than enough time to eat and get back as the heaters and jets kicked on- or that would be the plan anyway. She had little doubt they’d get distracted along the way, but they at least had an idea of how to start their relaxing weekend off.

As she set the specially designed scented bomb into the rising water, she thought about how far they’d come in a mere five years. Where before, her morning routine would’ve included changing into her uniform- even on so-called ‘off’ days- and setting about some half finished task from the day before, be it hers or someone else’s. Busywork to fill her time when the idea of being confronted with her own loneliness seemed too insurmountable. Now, though, she could hardly remember the last time she’d pulled on her gloves, having altered her duty uniform to wear the bracelets Yang had gotten her as an anniversary gift- cast in white and similar to her own Ember Celica, though with highly volatile Dust infused rounds. Although she could theoretically use them in hand-to-hand combat, they were more a last resort than an active part of her current fighting style.

Nowadays, it felt almost odd to put gloves on, outside strictly formal affairs. She held her rapier and dagger with her bare hands, relishing the way the metal of her wedding band pressed against the grip of her weapon, the pressure a constant reminder of why she fought and what awaited her upon returning. Add to that a closer relationship with her sister and... well, it certainly seemed like she had more going on now than she did as a fresh faced Specialist on her first assignment. 

Yet, it seemed manageable. Despite it being their first day off in a long while, she didn’t feel the same sort of exhaustion that had weighed her down in previous years. Although she’d made a show of her uncharacteristic reluctance to get out of bed that morning, even Yang seemed in higher spirits that she should be, considering their schedules.

So... maybe she should bring it up.

Replacing halfway melted candles with the ones she’d pulled from the cupboard, Winter set the used ones aside for the time being and went to the kitchen, the smell of sizzling bacon already heavy in the air. By the time she’d entered the room, she’d picked up on her wife’s soft humming, a habit she’d picked up while cooking, her left hand moving almost faster than the eye could see to beat the eggs and flip the bacon, tongue peeking out the corner of her mouth as she focused on her task. 

Without hesitation, Winter walked up and stood behind the woman, placing her hands on Yang’s hips.

“Ah, there’s my helper!” Yang turned her head to kiss her cheek briefly. “Ready?”

“That depends; what does the risk assessment look like?”

“There’s cereal in the pantry if it goes south and a fire extinguisher by each exit.”

“Cheeky.” With a chuckle, she reached up, taking hold of the bowl filled with broken egg yolks, a separate bowl for the whites already set aside. That, at least, seemed like a task she could handle without a problem. She didn’t get very far, however, as Yang almost immediately moved the bacon off the skillet and onto a paper towel covered plate beside the stove to cool, leaving behind the hot grease. “Oh, we’re ready for the eggs?”

“You took your time getting the tub set up,” her wife replied, her voice devoid of chiding and instead carrying a tone of curiosity. “Everything workin’ alright?”

“Of course.” She paused, considered speaking her mind, and decided against it. Probably best to have the conversation once they were in the Jacuzzi. “So, now what?”

“Now, I teach you how to make an omelette.” Carefully, Yang set the tongs down out of reach and coaxed the woman into holding the bowl with her left hand, allowing the blonde to lay her slightly smaller one over hers and direct her. “Now, it’s all an easy, slow, and steady motion. It won’t be perfect but that’s fine; it just needs to taste good, right?”

They continued making breakfast, the bacon and sausage links still warm by the time Winter’s omelette finished cooking, everything transferred to plates for the two of them and sat at the dining table, side-by-side. The meal passed quietly, a few comments passed between them and more than a few compliments to the chef, though Yang tried to share the credit. Finally, the blonde set down her fork and leaned her elbow against the table.

“Alright, Snowdrift, what’s on your mind?”

“What makes you ask?” She mentally kicked herself; the evasion tactic, though an old habit, was also a pretty telling reaction. “Am I that obvious?”

“You’ve got your tells.” A flicker of a smile before blonde brows knit in concern. “Is it something you want to talk about?”

“I... suppose it wouldn’t hurt,” Winter said, setting down her own fork and reaching out, wrapping her fingers around Yang’s and brushing her thumb across her wife’s knuckles. “How do you think things have been going the past year or so? It’s been... busy, yes?”

“Well, yeah!” The blonde smiled, slipping her her fingers around the other woman’s. “I mean, between assignments and our first official year at Beacon, I think ‘busy’ is an understatement! But, ya know, things are settling down now. Blake’s back from Menagerie, the kids have acclimated to the new staff, and the Grimm population is so low, we might have to come up with something else for initiation next year!” One shoulder lifted in a little shrug. “It’s been crazy but I think it’s worked out pretty great.”

Now, she had an opening. “You’re enjoying your position, then? Teaching students suits you?”

“Better than I thought it would, actually!” Yang laughed, shaking her head. “I tell ya, kids these days- I can’t tell if they’re only half as crazy as we were, or double it.” She got that special gleam in her eye, gaze unfocused as she mentally went back to those reconstituted halls that obviously still seemed so new and so familiar. “The first years are a blast every time, and watching them go through? I’ll be honest, Snowdrift, I don’t know who’s gonna be more proud of those kids when they graduate: me or their parents!”

“Do you think of them as your own?” She kept a straight face, trying her best to appear politely interested instead of intensely invested in her wife’s answer.

"Not in a literal sense.” The blonde shrugged again. “I’m their teacher and mentor and, yeah, it feels like I’m playing Team Mom a few times during the week but... I love it.”

“What if it was less ‘playing Team Mom’ and more... actually Team Mom?”

Lilac eyes snapped to hers, blinking a few times as the words processed. “Actually... Team Mom... like... you mean... what? Exactly?”

Winter took a surreptitious breath. “What are your thoughts on having kids?”

Silence stretched between them after the words left her mouth. It wasn’t a bad sign- not yet, anyway- and she watched carefully as everything clicked into place. When they did, Yang shifted her grip and squeezed her hand a little tighter, scooting to the edge of her seat.

“You think... that’s something you want?” She shook her head slightly, as if wanting to reword her response. “I mean- like, ya know, I’ve thought about it, but I always thought it was one of those far off things, ‘cause I figured it would just- just be that sort of thing. But, if you’re talking about right now, I...” Yang bit her lip and glanced away. “I think I can handle that.”

Winter narrowed her eyes, suspicious at the reaction. “... you’re downplaying this.”

“Of course I’m downplaying this!” Yang released her hand for a moment to gesture with it, motioning at the table. “I’m awake, I’m fed, and here you are talking about having a kid? And we have nothing planned all weekend? Yeah, okay, I’m trying really hard to be calm about this!”  She grabbed the woman’s hand, bringing it up to her lips and pressing a kiss to the back, her wide smile reaching all the way to those shining lilac eyes. “I mean- if we’re being one hundred percent honest, I think we should wait and time it out, make sure the third trimester falls closer to the end of the year so we can spend those first few months together and not worry about classes and students and stuff. I mean, as much as we can, of course, because it’s not an exact science, but that’s half the fun, and we should both get check ups first- who would even carry? I mean, between us, it might be smarter if I do, just ‘cause you could be called by the military and I dunno what their policy is on pregnancy-”

“Yang?” She waited until lilac eyes focused on her fully, smiling just as brightly to show she didn’t mind the nigh nonstop thoughts flying from her mouth. “Slow down a little.”

“I’m excited!” The blonde laughed, positively squirming in her seat. “I mean...” Blood flushed her cheeks as she blushed. “I... okay, this sounds kinda dumb, but I always figured I’d start having kids early, right? Sometime in my twenties- I honestly kinda thought I’d just... forget to take my pill or something or see something that wasn’t there.” She squeezed Winter’s hand again, tears beginning to sting at her eyes. “I dunno, I imagined every scenario out there... except this one.”

“Perhaps that’s for the best.” She raised a brow, shrugging at her wife’s curious look. “No expectations to disappoint, correct?”

“Yeah, guess that’s true.” Yang fidgeted, squeezing her hand again. “What about you? I mean- I kinda feel like you might have some ideas of your own on the matter?”

“I have a few,” she said, lips curling into a smile. “Maybe we can discuss the matter in more... comfortable surroundings? Seeing as we’re mostly on the same page.”

A laugh rang out, bouncing around the room and making her heart beat all the quicker. “Aw, come on, Snowdrift, give me something!”

“Alright.” She stood up, maintaining eye contact as she teasingly towered over her wife and leaned down, drawing her into a sweet, long, slow kiss and breaking it as she wrapped her unoccupied hand around the end of Yang’s stump, pressing a kiss to it and her wife’s hand before speaking. “I love you, Yang. I think we’re capable of becoming parents and that it’s time we at least start the conversation.” Unable to resist, she leaned forward and placed another kiss on the tip of Yang’s nose. “Though trying should probably wait until after we’ve talked about it.”

“We can talk about it in the tub, right?” Her wife stood up, pressing a kiss to her mouth and cheek to ease her back and wrapping her left arm around Winter’s waist. “I mean- not like I’m eager, or anything.”

“We have all weekend, and we can continue talking about it until we’ve come to all our decisions.” Another kiss. “But first? A nice soak.”

Yang’s hand found hers. “Then what are we waiting for?”

She laughed, following after her wife and relieved the conversation had gone over so well. Her life had changed so much in recent years, this much proved true. She wielded her weapons without gloves- saw no reason to keep herself that one little step removed from the world. She held onto her wife’s hand tightly- clung to her family, those she’d chosen and not the one she’d been born to, with all her might. And soon- perhaps sooner than she’d originally thought, given the glinting in those lilac eyes- she would hold in her arms their first child, a little hand to fit inside hers. Maybe it would be slim, like all the Schnees, or thicker with large knuckles like Yang’s, but it would belong to a little one that would become part of their lives, part of their family.

Some part of her could hardly wait.

But the majority was content to strip out of her pajamas alongside her wife and hit the setting on the Jacuzzi, the soothing jets and warm temperature setting the easy going mood for the conversation at hand.

[roraewrites]

twenty

[ sakura’s secret ] rating: m

// another update for being such good people. thank you all :)

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“Thanks for helping out around the house.” Kizashi grunted as he flung the snow from his shovel over his back. Sakura smiled as she did the same. Of course the gray clouds overhead decided to dump snow for three days straight, never giving up.

Sakura had helped her father around the house, shoveling snow from the driveway and from the sidewalk, or helped her mother with prepping dinner and keeping the house clean throughout the day. Eventually when the snow would quit falling and she’d run out of things to do. Even now with cleaning the house everyday, she was only sweeping and dusting imaginary dirt at that point in time.

She huffed and grunted one last time and she threw her last shovel full of snow. The driveway was now clear again -- until tomorrow, that is -- and she had nothing else to do that day. She enjoyed keeping her mind busy and preoccupied. Sakura stayed away from her phone as much as she possibly could lately, hating that her mind still focused on Sasuke as much as it did.

“Wanna grab a bite to eat?” Kizashi muttered from beneath his jacket as they walked inside. The snow from their boots fell to the porch, trying to hang on to the cold grasp from outside, but eventually began to melt when the heat from inside came oozing out.

“Where?” Sakura asked in return as she removed her beanie and began to undo her boots. Her hands were completely numb and her arms throbbed as she removed her jacket and inhaled deeply. It felt so warm and relaxing inside, all she wanted to do was take a nap now.

“We can go for bagels and hot chocolate down at the coffee house?” He offered with sincere eyes, and upon his offer, Sakura grinned and nodded her head. The bagels they made there were perfect, and they always put the perfect amount of cream cheese on them too.

Her father pulled his car out of the garage and the two of them began their way towards the little shop. It seemed that everyone else that lived on their street had began to shovel their driveways out as well, for all they could see were mounds of snow flying up in the air and over the snow berms.

Kizashi pulled right up in front of the shop, and as he hopped out, Sakura did as well. She could already smell the banana bread, donuts, bagels and every other baked good that awaited her from the inside. When they walked in, she inhaled the sweet, savory flavors and exhaled slowly.

“It always smells great in here,” she pointed out as they headed towards the front counter.

“Two hot chocolates and two bagels.” Kizashi ordered while he waved Sakura off to find a booth. The coffee house was typically overflowing with people after Christmas, but this time around, there seemed to be less than usual.

Sakura scooted into an open booth and pulled her phone from her pocket. She had been expecting a text from Ino, seeing as tomorrow night they’d be attending a New Year’s party. The only message she saw made her frown while her pulse began to throb.

It was another message from Sasuke, and as much as she wanted to tell him to kick rocks, she also wanted to see his gorgeous face.

Can you call me?

She pursed her lips before typing her response. She felt both nervous and excited to talk to him after it being a week without speaking. She craved his touch and to hear his voice, but she was also still disgusted with the fact that she didn’t know who exactly he had been with.

When I have time.

She kept her words short and stern, and by the time she finished placing her phone back in the pocket of her jacket, her father was walking to their table with their drinks in his hands. “They’re warming up the bagels, they’ll be right out.”

Sakura didn’t like the way his teal eyes watched her, and instead of asking him what he was doing, he was the first to speak. “Everything okay?”

Sakura nodded as she took her cup from his hand. The porcelain was warm from the liquids inside, and before she took a drink, she decided it best to let it cool off a bit longer.

“You just seem out of sorts lately.” His eyes finally averted from her gaze as he looked out the window. It was a complete winter wonderland. “How’s the boy you’ve been talking to lately?”

“Um,” Sakura stuttered. “Fine.”

Kizashi’s eyebrow arched at her answer; he clearly didn’t believe her. Instead of pushing the subject, he sighed and leaned forward until his forearms held his weight and his fingers intertwined with one another.

“I can tell when you’re lying.”

Sakura should’ve known that. Her father might’ve been an odd character, but he always paid attention to the little things in life. She didn’t want to ask ‘why’ because she knew what she did when she lied. Instead of looking someone straight in the eyes and lying, she’d look to the center of their forehead and concentrate on that spot.

“Why does it matter?” She asked before she took a drink. “It’s just a silly, not really official relationship. Just a thing, it shouldn’t matter.” It took all she had to convince herself of that, but on the inside, she could feel her heart growing heavy while a lump appeared in her throat.

The two of them fell quiet afterwards, and just in time for one of the employees to bring them each a bagel with cream cheese. Kizashi ate his almost as quickly as Sakura did, and before they knew it, they were each sitting on their own side of the table, staring each other in the eyes.

“I know it’s something you shouldn’t talk your father about, but I’m just concerned about my daughter.” He spoke once more, and Sakura knew that that would be the last of that conversation.

Sakura nodded her head, grabbed her cup and they began to walk out of the building side by side. Maybe she’d get ahold of Karin and spend the rest of the day with her.

.

.

.

“I hate snow.” She spoke from behind Sakura. Karin had wanted to practice braids, and with Sakura’s hair growing longer with each passing month, she was perfect to practice on. The redhead had finished a cute, lopsided fish tail with Sakura’s pastel tresses. Quiet music played from her laptop nearby, and when Sakura stood from her floor, she flopped down beside Karin on her bed.

“How was your Christmas?” Sakura asked with a quiet tone. Karin didn’t respond right away, instead a low grumble came from her throat which caught Sakura’s attention.

“It was alright,” she murmured before letting her ruby eyes find Sakura’s eyes. “Not a lot happened.”

She wasn’t sure what to say now, but instead of continuing with that topic, Sakura rolled to her back and sighed. “Mine was alright. We had breakfast, went to the parade and then just wandered through Old Konoha--”

“Is it pretty there?”

“Old Konoha?” Sakura’s slender brow raised in question.

Karin nodded in silence.

“Yes. Especially during spring time. The cherry blossoms start to bloom and it’s one of my most favorite things to go to. There’s a festival and lots to do! You’ve never been?” Sakura readjusted in her bed so she could see Karin’s entire face; pale yet gorgeous. The curves that formed her cheeks was something every girl envied, and even the way her hair fell was something unique yet satisfying.

“Well when it starts up, maybe we can go.” Most times kids would gather for the fair that would take place in town, while couples would go and enjoy the romantic views from the hill tops. Either way, it was an event that the entire town would attend, and it was always huge.

“I’d like that,” Karin responded with hard eyes and a gentle smile. Sometimes it was hard for Sakura to get through to her, but in the end, she enjoyed her time with the Uzumaki. While the two girls conversed in Sakura’s room and somewhat watched a movie on Sakura’s laptop, she felt her phone vibrate from her nightstand and when she grabbed it, she noticed Sasuke’s codename light up on the screen.

“What?” Karin asked, her tone firm and eyes narrowed slightly.

Sakura glanced up at Karin, her lips parted and viridian eyes wide with curiosity. “Oh? It’s nothing!”

“That’s not nothing. You’re blushing, Pinky.” Karin’s gentle smirk came to rest on her lips, and while Sakura felt vulnerable underneath her fiery gaze, she refused to give in.

“I always blush,” Sakura muttered underneath her breath before she opened the text. It was a little after ten at night now and she still hadn’t called Sasuke. It wasn’t like she had promised that she would call him today, she only said when she had time that she would call him.

Sleep well, Sakura.

It was plain and simple, unlike Sasuke who was such a mystery but there was just something about him that drew Sakura in and she just couldn’t put her finger on it. No matter what she did or where she went, he was always on her mind or popping up in front of her. It was odd, but she also found it appealing in some sort of weird way. She shrugged the thought off before putting her phone to the side.

“Did Ino ever get ahold of you?” Sakura changed the subject, trying to distract her mind and rid the dusted shade of red from her cheeks.

“About the party tomorrow?” Karin grinned. “She did. It’ll be rad!”

Sakura smiled at Karin. Her eyes had come to life and that wide smile made Sakura feel butterflies in her stomach. It wasn’t always that the redhead would smile like that, but when she did, it made Sakura feel something like fire coarse through her veins.

“It shall.” Sakura agreed.

.

.

.

“Pancakes, sausage, eggs and hashbrowns for breakfast, girls!” Mebuki called up the stairs.

Sakura was hardly awake when her mother’s familiar voice rang through her ears. To her surprise, both her and Karin had fallen asleep on her bed while her laptop still played through a random show that came on automatically. She exited out of the Hulu app, turned her laptop off and placed it in its case. Soon, her hand came to rest on Karin’s shoulder.

“Hey, you hungry?” She spoke in a groggy voice. Sakura gently shook her friend awake, and when she finally caused Karin to stir, the redhead’s fiery eyes tried to focus in on Sakura. It didn’t occur to her just how different she looked without her glasses on.

“I could eat,” she returned as she placed her glasses on over her nose and began to sit up. They both made their way down stairs with cautious steps and sleepy eyes, only to be greeted by a stack of pancakes, white porcelain plates and the overwhelming scent of black coffee.

“There’s plenty there, so eat up!”

After all four of them finished up with their breakfast, they began to take their plates to the sink before rinsing the syrup and grease from their plate and placing them in the dishwasher.

“Do you two have any plans tonight?” Kizashi asked from the kitchen table. His face had been stuck in the newspaper the entire time throughout breakfast, and when he finally lowered it, Sakura scoffed at the fact that he had been reading the morning comics.

“Really, dad?” Sakura smiled as her eyes fell to the page. He shrugged before she rolled her eyes playfully. “We’re going out with Ino and Naruto. Not sure when yet.”

“Well just let us know. If you need a ride, you call us. Got it?” Mebuki’s tone was firm, her eyes serious and hardened over with that motherly look that Sakura was all too familiar with.

“Of course,” Karin chimed in with a small smile.

.

.

.

Like usual, Naruto picked all the girls up and they all piled in his car and he drove them off to the location for the party. To Sakura’s surprise, it was closer to downtown Konoha and extremely close to Sasuke’s condo. Being that close to him caused Sakura’s heart to race, but instead of dwelling, she sunk back into her conversation with her friends.

She had picked a black dress that was fitting and very casual for the night. It came to hug against the middle of her thighs, and even Karin had commented that it wasn’t too long, yet it wasn’t too short. With a shrug, she slipped on a pair of black ankle high heels and found some jewelry that would go along with it; the dark gray cardigan that Karin pulled out of her closet matched her heels, and within seconds, she was ready for the night.

Karin redid her hair that night as well, braiding it down the side, clipping her bangs to the side while Sakura curled her rose quartz locks, letting each strand fall with a bounce. Karin allowed Sakura to curl her hair as well, taming the red locks of hair that inhabited her head.

With each girl all dolled up and looking cute for the night, they were now in the car and pulling up to the selected party house for the night.

“This is it?” Karin asked from the backseat, next to Sakura.

“It might not look like much, but it’s killer on the inside!”

“Who’s house?” Ino asked.

“Sai’s. You know Sai,” Naruto jabbed at her with a shit eating grin. Ino playfully punched his arm before turning around and facing Sakura and Karin.

“Alright girls. Who’s going to be your New Year’s kiss?” Ino’s smile was dangerous and it made Sakura’s stomach somersault just thinking about it. Neither of them answered, which caused Ino to frown and roll her eyes. “Fine. Mine is definitely going to be Sai.”

Her baby blue eyes shot back to Naruto, dangerous and wild as he shrugged and shook his head. “I could’ve told them that.”

“Whatever, Loudmouth! Let’s go.”

Sakura laughed at her friends and exited through her door. The four of them embraced the cool night air as they began to walk down the road. It was always like Naruto to park a couple blocks away -- in case of cops. Tonight would be different, Sakura thought. They ever partied this close to downtown, and as they walked up on the entrance to Sai’s house, they were greeted by his fake, eerie smile and dark orbs.

“Welcome,” he greeted and casually stepped aside. “I see you’ve got a lot going on for you tonight, Naruto. You sure you can handle all of them at once?”

Ino laughed louder than she had meant to, and Sakura scoffed. Karin’s face flushed completely red, a darker shade than her hair as they walked through the door. Naruto on the other hand had his hands balled into fists while his azure eyes burned with anger.

“You bastard.”

While the front room looked like a complete masterpiece, there was nobody around. No music, no drinks, no food, nothing. Sakura took in her surroundings, memorizing the staircase that led upstairs and how the kitchen was located just off the front room.

“We’ll be downstairs.” Sai answered casually, and with that, he led the way from the front door and towards a door that was located farther back in the house. It was completely blowing Sakura’s mind that she still hadn’t heard a single voice or sound of music, but the second Sai opened the door, a staircase was revealed, and the faint pounding of bass sounded through her ears.

“These walls are really soundproof, eh?” Karin asked before rasping her knuckles against the wooden walls.

“That’s what happens when you grow up in a family of artists.”

The five of them began their adventure down the stairs and through another room about the size of the entry way. Alas, when Sai opened the door, they were in a large basement and welcomed by flashing, strobe lights and thunderous music. The amount of people that filled the room amazed Sakura, and one by one, they began to file in.

“This is amazing!” Ino cooed from beside Sai. He simply nodded before pointing towards the bar that resided on the left side of the room.

“Alcohol is over there. If we run out, then we run out.”

His monotone voice was finally drowned out by all the different noises, and one by one, the four of them began to drink their drinks. Time began to fly by with each drink that Sakura downed, and instead of trying to relax and enjoy the party, she felt her heart throb with more pain after every drink.

By the time eleven-thirty rolled around, she felt absolutely exhausted. Her feet hurt from all the walking around and dancing that their small group had been doing, and instead of withstanding the pain, she resorted to quieter place and began to rub out her aching feet.

“Everything okay?” A deep, raspy voice sounded from behind her.

Her eyes could hardly make out who it was, but instead of answering, she scoffed. “Everyone seems to be asking that lately. It’s getting annoying.” She had loose lips thanks to the alcohol and she immediately regretted her bitchy comment.

“Well, you’re over here and not with the party. Plus you’re rubbing your feet.”

“Who even are you?” Sakura dropped her foot from her lap and turned to the find the mysterious voice. She had heard it somewhere before, and to her surprise, it belonged to Kiba. “Oh.”

His toothy smirk sent chills down her spine, and the way his dark brown eyes settled on her made her cheeks heat with a blush.

“Feeling sassy tonight?” He teased lightly. Sakura only scoffed once more before she rolled her eyes. Although she had never really talked to Kiba, it was nice to converse with someone in a somewhat quiet and relaxed atmosphere. Even with the slight sting of alcohol coursing through her veins, she felt her body begin to relax in Kiba’s presence.

“It’s just been a rough week.” It was the first time she had answered someone with complete and utter honesty, and to almost a complete stranger. Again, alcohol seemed to have that effect on her, causing her to do things without thinking them through first.

“I feel ya,” Kiba grinned while he scratched the back of his head. “Say, I see you around at parties but never actually have the time to talk. Crazy, right?”

“That, or you’re just trying to get lucky tonight.” Sakura smiled at her ‘sassiness’ and watched as Kiba’s eyes widened and his cheeks glowed with a faint tint of red.

“No, that’s not--”

“Chill! I’m only kidding,” Sakura giggled. When she slipped her heels back on over her feet, she stood to meet his standing form and offered a gentle smile. “I’ll see you around.” With that, Sakura made her way back towards Ino, Naruto and Karin and greeted them with an ear to ear grin.

“Hooking up with Kiba?” Ino shouted over the music.

“Hell no,” Sakura laughed back. The last thing she wanted tonight was to think about guys and their silly ways. Her heart still throbbed for Sasuke after all, and if she was going to be hooking up with any guys, it would be him. But she had sworn him off, due to his selfish and arrogant ways, now here she was, at another party with her friends and a potential guy that had taken interest in her.

Sakura had decided that she was done with drinking after her talk with Kiba. The last thing she wanted was for something to happen and internally destroy her life and draw her down. Although she had her friends there with her and they would never let anything happen to her, Sakura didn’t want them to have to put their night on hold just to babysit their little pink haired friend.

It was only five minutes away from midnight now, and while the music continued to blare on, Sakura began to exit the room and climb the steps up to the main floor of Sai’s home. She immediately vanished through the front door and out into the fresh midnight air. People continued to scatter the streets, and it was only a matter of a couple minutes before the countdown started and lips began to lock on one another.

Sakura exhaled hard as she took a seat on the concrete steps and hugged her arms around her body. Her curled locks fell down in front of her face as she leaned over and concentrated on the snow that lined the streets. Everything felt cold around her now as she melted into the cool air. Finally, she could hear yelling from down the street, each voice counting down from ten and it echoed throughout the tall buildings and car filled streets.

She smiled to herself and acknowledged that this upcoming year would be her time to shine. She would move out of her parent’s home, start college and eventually meet a new guy that wouldn’t go against her trust. Sakura finally felt her eyes start to burn as tears pricked the corners of her eyes. She refused to cry, refused to give in to the sadness in her heart, and it was when she heard the final number echo throughout the street that her phone began to ring violently.

“Hello?” She answered immediately without looking at the caller ID.

“Sakura,” his voice gasped into the phone. Her heart was in her throat, hearing his voice sound so panicked, yet the way he spoke her name sounded all too slurred and it stirred worry in her stomach.

“What’s wrong, Sasuke?” She asked immediately. Sakura was no longer sitting, but she was on her feet and pacing back and forth. The cold air no longer had an effect on her as she bit her lip and waited for his answer.

“Come here.”

She frowned at his response. “Where are you?” She asked once more, her tone firm and voice low and hard. There was something wrong with the way he spoke, and as much as Sakura hated the fact that he had called and she had answered, she needed to face him and figure out what exactly was wrong with him. Whether he was lying in the street hurt somewhere or lost, there was something wrong with his voice.

“The bar by my home. I want to go home--but I’m so--”

His voice cut off, as did his phone. The call dropped and Sakura felt immediately sick to her stomach. She was no longer pacing around in front of Sai’s home, but running down the slick and icy sidewalks.

Viridian eyes began to scan for the building that Sasuke’s home resided in, and the second she found it, she began to search her surroundings for a bar and for a guy that was stumbling around outside.

“Fucking hell, Sasuke.” She cursed to herself. Of course, the one night that he called her was on New Year’s when plenty of people roamed the streets at midnight. This was going to be near impossible, but whenever it was Sakura that needed help, he was almost always there immediately.

Her heeled feet carried her down the busy streets, and although many men had made rather vulgar and disgusting comments towards her, she continued her search for Sasuke. Bar after bar, stranger after stranger, she searched everywhere. Sakura finally glanced at her phone and felt her stomach flip upside down when she saw that time had been ticking by. It was now twelve-forty-five and still no sign of Sasuke.

Sakura was now almost to his building, and finally she found him. His back was leaned up against the building while he sat on the cold, hard ground and came to rest his head on the wall. He looked exhausted, almost like he was sleeping when Sakura ran up to him.

“What the hell, Sasuke!” She started, her eyes wide and her chest heaving with anger when she was nearly to him. His head snapped in her direction and she couldn’t see those dark, alluring eyes that she had grown all too familiar with, but the second she marched right up to him, she had her finger poked into his chest while tears rimmed her eyes.

“I thought you were fucking hurt or something happened to you! You can’t just do that. You can’t just tell me to come here and tell me you’re somewhere that you’re not! You can’t just--”

Sasuke’s arms had come to wrap around her, his lips pressing to hers all too fast and her mind was now in a whirlwind of thoughts. His scent surrounded her, she could taste the alcohol on his tongue the second it slipped passed her lips, and the way his body felt against hers was everything she wanted, everything she needed -- just not now.

Sakura pulled away, and Sasuke stopped. Instead of continuing what he wanted to do, he exhaled deeply and allowed his eyes to close. In the dark of the night, under the light that provided light to the residents that lived in the building, they stood in silence and comfort in one another’s arms.

His head rested against hers, while her arms wrapped around his waist. Sakura could hardly breathe, but with Sasuke safe in her arms, she finally inhaled, then exhaled her relief.

“I was so scared,” she muttered, “don’t do that ever again.”

[welcometophu]

Not Your Destiny: Chapter 25

Marked Book 1: Not Your Destiny

Chapter 25

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“Hey.”

Ángel blinks slowly into the light, a hand on his shoulder, Tony’s nose close to his own. “It’s early,” Ángel mutters.

Tony grins, squeezes his shoulder. “Not as early as you think. It’s ten o’clock, but no one else is awake yet. I’ve already showered, do you want a turn?”

The couch is warm, the blanket is soft, and no, Ángel really doesn’t want to get up.

On the other hand, Tony’s still touching him, and Ángel wants to tilt forward and do something very ill-advised, like closing the distance between them.

He sits up slowly, scratching at his chest. Tony shifts his weight, still crouched and balanced on his heels, one eyebrow arched. “Well?” Tony asks.

“You really do like getting up before people, don’t you?” Ángel grumbles. He stretches, leaning back against the couch, arms up high over his head.

“I really hate it when people mess with my kitchen,” Tony admits, gaze drifting over Ángel’s torso. “It’s easier to deal with later if I get it all set up my way ahead of time. So. You going to help me before we go to the shop?”

It’s Sunday. It’s also the first day of the year.

“Helga,” Tony says, and oh right, he said that last night, too.

Ángel yawns, presses his hand to his mouth as he stretches again. When he finally relaxes, Tony’s turned away, grabbing Ángel’s bag from the floor and handing it to him.

“Go on,” Tony says. “Hit the shower, meet me downstairs for something to eat. Any requests?”

He hadn’t stayed over after watching movies with Gabi, so the last time he was here was when he was horribly hungover. “I’m flexible,” Ángel says. “I like pastries, I like meat, I even eat oatmeal and cereal. Whatever’s convenient.”

Tony’s nostrils flare; he takes a step back. “Clean up, then. I’ll make sure you get fed.”

When Tony leaves, Ángel’s alone in his room. Suite of rooms. Bigger suite than either Gabi’s or Luca’s suites, too. It feels awkward to be on his own, but at the same time, it’s an opportunity to look more closely at everything.

He digs through his bag, pulls out clean clothes, carrying them in a pile as he drifts closer to the art hanging on the walls. There are three paintings, but he focuses on the center one, curious about the roughness of the image.

When he gets close, he can see the ridges in the paint, the thickness of the brush strokes. He has to step back to get a better idea of what each stroke represents. It isn’t impressionist or realistic, or even abstract, but something in between. Each picture is painted in broad strokes, but the more he looks, the more he sees the pack of animals leaping across the canvas, chasing after something small, like a rodent. The animals are all in shades of greys and browns, stretched out long with their strides, urgency in the chase.

The ground beneath them is bright and green, trees sliding up the sides, the little hint of visible sky among the leaves stormy and dark.

Hunger. Fear. Energy. Need.

Ángel reaches out, just barely touches the first of the animals in line. His brow furrows. Cat. It has to be a cat, right?

Because they’re Lince.

He brings up his phone, snaps a picture of each painting, then drops the phone on the back of the couch while he goes to shower. Ángel doesn’t want to take long, even though the shower has great water pressure. He lingers a little over washing his hair, because he recognizes the scent of the shampoo, and it’s strangely comforting to use it for himself.

When he finally makes it downstairs, he’s wearing his own clothes, but he feels like he smells different after using Tony’s toiletries. He walks into the kitchen and takes the platter Tony hands him, carries it to the counter as directed.

“Everyone still asleep?” Tony asks quietly, and Ángel glances at the door to the living room.

“Even the people on the floor that I just stepped over,” Ángel whispers. “Why are we awake again?”

“Because your car isn’t going to fix itself.” Tony continues plating fruit, putting out pitchers of juice. There’s more than the last time, more than Ángel thinks even the people in the house can eat. It’s enough for a few armies, and definitely a morning after celebratory feast.

Ángel grabs a paper plate from the stack Tony set out, and fixes himself a quick breakfast of a muffin and some eggs, adding sausage when Tony points it out. Ángel sniffs the coffee—strong, although not really strong enough, but it’ll do—and pours a cup for himself.

He takes it to the small kitchen table off to one side, and sits. A few minutes later Tony joins him, his own plate full of fruit, cottage cheese, and a blueberry pastry that Tony eats without commentary.

“What are we working on for Helga today?” Ángel asks, digging a chocolate chip out of his muffin.

“Brakes are done, plugs and wires are done,” Tony muses. “I took care of the serpentine belt the other night. It was worse than I thought, so it’s good we got that done before you hit the road. The most critical thing that needs to be done is the starter and replacing the battery. She’ll be functional again after that. I’ve got both at the garage, and we can get both done in one day.”

“What about your Mustang?”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “What about the Mustang?”

Ángel isn’t going to let this be one-sided. He brushes off his hands on a napkin, then holds them up. “Spare hands. Use me to help you. It’ll be a good way to pay off my debt.”

“I thought Zita already owned your soul,” Tony says dryly. “I’m not worried about you paying me back, Ángel.”

There’s something about the way Tony says his name—accent in the right place, but the A just a little flat and broad, like he’s mixing Ángel’s name with the angelic being—that Ángel really likes to hear. It’s his name, yes, but it’s different without being derogatory.

Ángel presses his lips together, looks at his plate. It’s not a pet name. Stop thinking that.

“Maybe I just want to get my hands on a gorgeous classic like your ‘stang,” Ángel says.

Tony snorts softly. “Fine. You want to work on her that badly, we’ll bring her in. She runs. I’m doing mostly the final, finicky interior restoration right now, which isn’t fun work. And I have to fix the motor for the mechanism for the top.”

“I’m a Magical Studies and Chem major, unfortunately, not an Electrical Engineer,” Ángel admits. “Which is a pity, or I’d offer to do the motor rebuild. But I’m willing to work on it with you if you’ve got documentation. I can follow directions.”

Tony’s smile quirks. “Offer accepted. Grab something to go; we’re heading out.”

When they get to the shop, Tony pulls around back, parks his SUV in a line of cars waiting for repair. He has a garage door opener in the car, and he hits the buttons to open the doors for the central and far bays. Ángel helps him pull the cover off the Mustang, and it takes a few tries before it catches when it turns over. Tony puts the emergency brake on, leaves it in neutral and climbs out.

When Tony motions at the Mustang, Ángel has no idea what it means.

“Take her in,” Tony says slowly. “Get in the driver’s seat, pull into the bay. Hit the button on the inside to close the door; I don’t want people wandering in because they think we’re open.”

Drive the Mustang.

Fuck, yeah.

Ángel slides into the wide leather bucket seat, sinks down low. Older cars ride lower than the modern ones, and it takes a moment to adjust the seat so he can reach the full depth of the clutch. He puts his hand on the stick, shifts it into first, and slowly pulls forward.

It’s gorgeous. It’s nothing like a modern transmission, nothing like a modern interior. He follows where Tony signals, adjusting the car until it’s in the right spot in the bay. When he turns it off and the low rumble fades, he just sits there quietly and leans back in the seat. He inhales and smells leather and grease, and he smiles slightly, eyes closed.

The door opens, and Tony leans in through the doorway. “You done communing with my car?”

“Someday I’m going to convince you to let me take her out on the road.” Ángel scrambles out, pushing into Tony’s space as he steps back. “The engine runs beautifully. Rebuild?”

“First thing I did because I wanted her road-ready, just in case,” Tony says. “I need to get the top fixed, finish the interior work. There’s some patching for the body that needs to be done, and she needs a new front passenger quarter panel. Which means paint when I get it. New lights. And just a final check before she’s ready to be seen.”

“You going to name her?” Ángel rubs his nose as soon as he says it, shrugs one shoulder. “I know, not everyone names their car.”

“I’m not going to name her Helga,” Tony says dryly. That isn’t a yes, but it also isn’t a no. Just that they don’t need two Helgas in the shop. “Let’s get your car in. We need to get that starter swapped out.”

“I’ll meet you out back in a minute. I’m going to go change my shirt before I end up somehow covered in grease again.” Ángel heads into the office, ignoring Tony’s shout that he should’ve brought appropriate clothes in the first place. He would’ve, if he’d remembered. Or thought about this. Holidays on the weekend always mess with his sense of time.

His bag’s still in Tony’s SUV, so Ángel just leaves his shirt over the back of his chair in the office, and tugs the white t-shirt on. By the time he makes it into the garage, Helga’s in the middle bay, running smoother than she has in years.

Helga’s running.

“I thought you said we had to replace the starter?” Ángel protests, and Tony grins.

“You haven’t learned how to start a car without the starter?” Tony pops the hood, motions for Ángel to look in. “It’s actually the solenoid that’s dead. Spark’s not making it from ignition to starter, so there’s no turnover. I manually bridged the gap. You could probably start it with your finger if you wanted. We’re going to change out the whole system today.” He reaches into the car, turns her off, and a moment later Helga goes silent. “Ready to get dirty?”

“Every day, lately,” Ángel mutters. “Every damned day.”

He likes working side by side with Tony. Their shoulders press together as they work under the hood, and Tony leads him through the repair. Tony talks, and Ángel acts as his hands, Tony jumping in when it takes two people, or when he needs to reach past Ángel to direct him more closely.

There’s a point when Tony presses in close, and Ángel feels the energy building in his fingertips; he pulls back quickly before the sparks jump.

Helga starts without him even touching her.

Shit.

Tony straightens, arms crossed, and raises both eyebrows. “Seriously?”

“It just happens sometimes.”

A low grumble and a sigh. “Well, make it not happen. If you fry the solenoid again before we finish the job, I’m not getting another. I’ll have Gabi make you pay for it out of pocket.”

“I’m not getting paid and I don’t have the cash, so I guess Helga will sit on your back lot for a while,” Ángel grumbles. He’s not being dramatic. It’s just truth. He has nothing, and this happens to be the whole sum of his wages.

Tony leans his elbows on the car, looks in at the humming engine. “I know,” he says quietly. “Come on. Turn the car off for me, since it’s running without a key, and let’s get this job done.”

Ángel reaches in, has to lean closer to Tony again in order to reach the right spot, and the engine just dies.

The next time they start the car, it’s with the key, with Ángel inside the car while Tony watches under the hood.

It works on the first try, and Ángel shouts, pounding his fist on the steering wheel. “Fuck, yeah. That’s it. Sorry, Helga, but I’m excited.”

“Don’t kill her with your happiness,” Tony tells him, and Ángel climbs out, hugs him hard.

“Let’s get started on the Mustang,” Ángel says. He disengages, tries not to think about how good Tony feels, and nudges him toward the far bay. “We got my baby running, let’s get the motor for the ragtop working on yours.”

Tony gestures at the closed garage door. “Don’t you want to take her out? Do a test drive?”

It’s tempting. Ángel glances back at Helga; he’s so relieved that she’s functional again. But… there’s the Mustang. “Let’s get the motor fixed, then I’ll take you out for some fries from Bob’s,” Ángel suggests.

Tony’s mouth lifts one one side. “With the money you don’t have.”

“A large order of fries from Bob’s is five dollars and we can split it,” Ángel says. “I’ll manage that much.”

Tony grunts, a low soft sound, and he knocks into Ángel, dragging him with him to the Mustang. They work together again, Tony trying to fix the motor while Ángel researches details on his phone. Neither of them knows what they’re doing, and the motor doesn’t seem to be functioning any better after two hours.

“I’m hungry,” Ángel admits.

Tony holds up one hand, brow furrowing.

“What?”

Tony’s finger presses to his lips, and Ángel goes silent. Tony gets up, goes to the garage door at the front of the bay, fingertips light against the door, ear pressed to it like he’s listening. Body tense. Tight.

A moment later he relaxes slowly, steps back, fingers the last thing to leave the door.

“Is everything—”

Ángel doesn’t finish the sentence before Tony spins back to the door, slams his hands against the buttons for the two bays. Flames spark up brightly around the edges of Ángel’s vision, fast and hot, and covering the exit enough that he can’t see the parking lot beyond.

“Get in Helga!” Tony shouts, and Ángel dives for his car, fumbles with the key still in the ignition. He hears the Mustang start, revving hard, and it goads him into motion.

Helga starts on the first try, and Ángel shifts into first.

The flames are higher. Hotter. He can’t think how they happened, how it happens so fucking fast, but there they are.

“Drive!”

He can barely hear Tony’s voice over the crackling, but it pushes him. Drive. Yes. Ángel gets the car going, slams his foot on the gas, and he closes his eyes as Helga leaps forward.

The heat washes over him and he hears a scream in the distance. Ángel slams on the brakes as soon as he’s out, turns off the car and jumps out. The Mustang is swerved to the side, parked awkwardly, and Tony is on the ground, rolling. Ángel grabs a blanket from the back seat of Helga, tosses it over Tony, and the flames surrounding him die out.

Shit.

Shit, fuck. Shit.

No.

Ángel peels the blanket back slowly. “Tony?”

“I’m fine.” Tony pushes the blanket down, sits up and looks at the shop. The flames are already high, too high and far too hot to sit this close.

Tony pushes to his feet, stiff but otherwise okay. “I’ll heal,” he reminds Ángel as he nudges him toward Helga. “Move the car to the street. Down the street. Get her far enough away. I’m moving the Mustang and calling 911. The cars in the back are going to be a loss.”

Shit.

“Tony—”

“Go.”

Ángel only parks a few car length down the street, and he can hear sirens in the distance as he runs back. Tony’s sitting on the Mustang at the very end of the parking lot, knees drawn up, watching the flames. Ángel walks past him toward the shop, doesn’t stop until Tony runs up to him, grabs him from behind.

“Just let me try this.” Ángel reaches his hands out, digs deep inside of himself and tries to call water.

He gets a few drops, nothing more.

Tony drags him back, wraps his arms around him and pulls him up onto the hood of the Mustang. Ángel sits in the cradle of Tony’s legs, leaning back against him, Tony’s chin on his shoulder, and they wait for help to arrive.

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[justenzhe]

Omelets & Mom-advice/some NaruKiba fluff for birthday-boy Endo

@endoplasmicpanda​

.

.nk

.

“So you’re saying - roll your eyes all you want, kiddo, but obviously someone is missing something here and I’m not gonna let it be me - Kiba is leaving you - fine, moving out - because you’re too gay for him.”

Mothers were supposed to be sympathetic. This is why I get Dad’s help with this sorta thing, Naruto lamented, dehydrated brain aching with the effort. But dad was testifying before Congress about AI drones, and Mom was not sympathetic. She had already chalked everything up to his own stupidity, he could tell, and he couldn’t even bring himself to disagree with her.

“What other reason could there be?”

Wow. That came out 100% whiny. He sounded almost as pathetic as he felt.

“A reason that makes sense,” Kushina said flatly. “One that isn’t entirely against everything Kiba stands for. It’s not like he wasn’t blatantly exposed to your sexuality before he moved in with you. He put up with more than enough PDA from you and Sasuke - ”

“We’re not talking about Sasuke, Mom - ” Naruto said loudly, then grabbed his ears and whimpered.

“I like talking about Sasuke,” Kushina grumped. “I’m gonna have to take up watching soaps if you’re well and truly over him. The melodrama! The mood swings! The plotting sessions with Mikoto! The time I doused him with the garden hose - Tachi-kun’s constipated face -”

Naruto smothered himself with his pillow. “You love laughing at Sasuke more than you love me.”

“Mm. Close call, but not quite. Now, reasons. What reasons did Kiba give? And I’m talking what he actually said, not what you decided it meant. I can’t imagine Kiba being all ‘ew gross, too gay’—”

“He didn’t,” Naruto said, miserable. "He just–just stood there, with the kitchen table between us, and smiled a smile that made him look sick, and said he’d decided to move out. No reason.“

"And?”

“And I said ‘what the hell, you’re not serious’ but no, he was serious, and I, uh, maybe freaked out just a tiny bit okay? Because we worked so hard to make this place a comfortable shithole even if it’s still a shithole -”

“It is a shithole, but isn’t that why the landlord didn’t care about the dog? What’s he going to do with the puppydog?”

“- Exactly! So I said these things to him, and asked him about Akamaru, and he looked terrible but just said this fake-okay ‘I’ll get something worked out’ and I was like ‘I don’t want to abandon this place - where did I mess up, I’ll take out the trash right away and close the door all the way when I poop - ’”

“What?! I broke you of that habit in third grade!”

“And you know what he said? ‘I don’t want to be an asshole and leave you without someone to split the rent, so I’ve started looking for roommates - How would I feel about living with Hinata?’”

“Oh. Ohhh-no. You can’t do that to Hinata, Naruto. You walk around with your shirt off. You sleep naked. She may know you’re gay, but a girl’s got limits. If she jumps my baby boy—”

“Mom! But yeah, actually I said something like that to him, and he gets all pale and so I start blabbering that of COURSE I’d never come on to Hinata, I mean I know that she’s like a sister to him, but she’s like eight thousand percent safe from me because I’m at least eight thousand percent gay and—”

“AND?”

“And he says something like—I think he said ‘That’s the problem’? and, like, twelve ’sorries’ and then he…he left. Just. Gone.”

“That’s - that’s it? He didn’t say anything else? You’re sure he didn’t say anything else?”

Naruto pushed his phone towards her, open to texts from Kiba explaining that he’d come to get all of his shit so someone else could move in.

Tomorrow. Which was today.

Kushina read through them, then started scrolling through older texts messages, brows arcing in mischievous curiosity.

Naruto snatched his phone back. And promptly collapsed into his pillow, mumbling curses.

“Aw, poor hungover frat baby,” Kushina crooned, still not even pretending to be sympathetic. “No, I’m not letting you go back to sleep. Up you go. Into the shower. I brought everything for omelets. Heaven knows I wouldn’t find anything of edible worth in your fridge…”

It was hard to be annoyed about one’s (entirely unsympathetic) mother when she drove two hours to fix one’s woes with omelets.

Naruto headed to the shower.

.

.nk.

.

“Okay, I’m beginning to see why you spent most of the night drunk-texting your dad. I’ve thought of everything you would have done that would make Kiba not want to live with you but ALSO not tell you why he won’t live with you. It looks like this.” Kushina smacked a clean plate down in front of her son. "Empty. Zero. Nada. Here’s your omelet.” Piping hot barely-browned eggs folded neatly around melting pepper-jack cheese and Italian sausage and three kinds of peppers (but no slimy mushrooms because Naruto refused to appreciate edible fungi as anything other than ew gross ) flipped from pan to plate, and Naruto couldn’t help but feel a little hope bubbling up.

“I guess I’ll try talking to him again. It’s just… Last night, he, he looked so - not disgusted? Uncomfortable. Really really uncomfortable. Stayed on the other side of the room the entire time, like he was afraid I might reach out and grab him with my eight-thousand-percent-gay hands–”

“I’m really not buying the gay stuff, Naruto. What makes you think that’s what this is about? I may not know him as well as some of your other friends, but he asked you to move in with him when Sasuke spending the night was still something that happened sometimes - goodness, when are you going to accept that I know these things? You tell your dad everything and he tells me everything. Stop choking and drink your orange juice - but you won’t convince me that boy’s not marshmallow pie personified. He laughed all three times I pranked him.”

She chopped a quarter-onion while saying all of this, and set it sizzling in the pan, then set about decimating another pepper. A peek sneaked over one shoulder showed her boy’s dejection setting in again. And not even halfway through the first omelet. Mercy. Where’s Minato when you need him?

“I did something,” Naruto mumbled, shoulders hunching in. “Like… Not one thing. We started out so great, getting this place all fixed up, and we screwed up almost all the DIY shit we googled the first couple times around but Kiba never got mad and -”

Oooh. Something big is coming. “Aaaand?”

“He’s - he’s hot, okay?! He’d be, like, soaked from a pipe we didn’t get in quite right, or, or laughing at cat fail videos with Akamaru and I just -”

“Yeeeeees?”

“I stared. I stared, okay?!”

Kushina tried so hard not to laugh. Poor Naruto’s cheeks were so red. He was more of a man than a boy now, she had to admit, twenty-one years old and coming up on his last year of undergrad. In so many ways, though, he exactly mirrored the bashful five-year-old kept in memory right in the middle of her heart, bright-eyed and blushing, bursting with the confounding thrill of a first crush. “You like him. Like-like him.”

Naruto made an impressive try at hiding his entire head with his arms. She barely made out the reply that came, but felt their ache echoing in her own belly, just a bit. “How I could not? He’s - he’s - Kiba - he - he’s so -”

“Strong? Loyal? Manly? Adorable as his pure and perfect puppy?”

“Ugh. Yes.”

“…Are you sure he’s not gay?”

“Yes - I mean, we haven’t really talked ‘bout that but - I mean, he said something like ‘attractive people are just plain attractive’ one time but - anyway it doesn’t matter, he obviously doesn’t want to be gay with me—”

“Why not?”

“Because he WOULD BE ALREADY, wouldn’t he? Or at least he wouldn’t have move out of the house when I couldn’t stop my stupid eyes from looking at him way too much—”

“Kiss him,” said Kushina.

“What?! NO! MOM! As if I haven’t wrecked the friendship enough!!”

“Well, that’s my advice. I’m not going to repeat it. Finish your omelet, buster.”

A second omelet, this one with onions and mushrooms, appeared on the table. Naruto wouldn’t eat it. She would, rather than let it be wasted, but if her hunch was right—

Inuzuka Kiba crashed through the door. He looked sweaty and anguished and had obviously spent most of the night running, both figuratively and literally, but he also looked very, very determined.

Ten points for timing! Kushina cheered to herself, carefully turning off the stove.

.

.nk.

.

“I’m sorry,” Kiba was saying, and Naruto still had a forkful of omelet halfway to his mouth, staring again. Kiba smelled like sweat and dirt and sharp morning air and he looked so serious and Akamaru was nuzzling his elbow, bless that puppy, now Naruto could breathe again—

“I keep screwing everything up,” said Kiba, “and I’m sorry. But I’m no coward. I’m gonna tell you what I need to tell you and then I’ll get all of my shit out of your way.”

He was still moving out. Naruto’s hopes hit rock bottom.

“Every time I get too close, I want to kiss you.”

He couldn’t keep living here. Not in this 120-year-old shithole tiny-ass house they found that was affordable and close to campus and allowed pets and thanks to them had a working shower and a roof that didn’t leak anymore—what?

“It’s not new, okay? I’ve felt this way since—since freshman year, at least—and I know how you are about Sasuke, I know I’ll never compete. But I screwed up, okay? I thought if I moved in with you—if I found out about all the stupid annoying gross stuff you do when you’re at home, I’d get over this glowing image I had of you. But it didn’t work, okay? It didn’t work. I’ve seen you pick your nose and be idiotic about avoiding vegetables and barely survived you stinking this place to hell when you had that disgusting stomach bug and I know for a fact that you’ve only washed your sheets twice this semester and I love you more. And I can’t. I can’t, Naruto. I just—I’ll always be your friend, I’m here if you really need someone, you know that, but—”

“She was right,” Naruto said, wonder exploding a tiny firework jubilee somewhere in his chest. “Wow. I can’t believe—”

“What, who? Did Tenten tell you? She swore—”

“Kiss me.” He’d made it to his feet. The happiness was going to shake him to bits. He had to find some kind of words quick or he’d be too shattered to make words at all. “Kiba. You’re—I’m—here—”

Kissing Kiba was like bursting into summer. Like the shocking relief of plunging into cool water, like running as fast as you can for the joy of it, like feeling the sun leak into your pores, seeping warm and healing to the very center of your shoulder bones.

“Don’t move out,” Naruto begged lowly, holding on just in case Kiba felt like running again.

“I…don’t think I have to? If I can really just—kiss you and—”

“Let’s try, yeah? At least until summer—”

“Okay,” said Kiba, shellshocked. Beginning, big and free and amazed, to grin.

“You can marry him, too,” Kushina said, and laughed wickedly when Kiba started, whipped around to notice her presence in the room for the very first time, and promptly panicked. “Sit down. I made you an omelet. And I’ll make one for you, too, Akamaru, you sweet doggo you!”

.

.nk.

.

The End!

.

Happy happy birthday, Endo, you wonderful person you!!

[cursed-saphire-hart]

sweetredbeans

Title: New Kid Pairing: N/A Au: St Sea Angel Word Count: 2,359 Rating: K Summary: It's hard enough going to a new school, on top of that, it's even harder to suddenly get enrolled by a boarding school out of the blue.

He felt a little weird about the situation he had been put in. Going to a new school all of a sudden, on top of that a boarding school that sounded a little religious by it name, would be weird enough, but that hadn't been the weirdest part.

One day out of the blue near beginning of the school year there was a knock at the door. It had been around supper time and Ryan had been the one to answer the door and before him stood a man with a suitcase. The man was dressed in black and the way he carried himself seemed pretty odd. Though he didn't really have a "Men-in-black" feel to him, he actually seemed more like a man dressed for a funeral. Despite the odd feeling about him, Ryan let the man inside when he asked to speak to his mother, which she agreed to.

As weird as it felt, he remembered that a week before his mother had received a letter in the mail from a boarding school that was a few towns away. And apparently the man was here to discuss about said letter and the contents within it.

St. Sea Angel's boarding school for boys and girls was a pristine school that had stood for 150 years, and had a habit of reaching out and inviting students to attend, social standing and academic achievements had nothing to do with it though, it was just the way the school was, or so it said in the letter. He hadn't really thought about it since getting the letter, so he wondered why the man was there. Maybe he was there to verify something.

The discussion lasted a short time, and for whatever reason, his mother agreed to the terms, and Ryan was soon enrolled in a school he knew nothing about other than the basic information that came with the letter, and that a car would come to pick him up in a week and that he was allowed to bring his cat, Peaches, as well as whatever luggage he needed.

It felt like something out of a movie, the letter, the man's sudden appearance, and now he was riding in the back of a black car to a place he never heard about. The green eyed teen just hoped this wasn't a plot for a horror movie, because that's what it kinda felt like. Even if he wanted to go home, he was too anxious to ask the driver anything, the man driving was a little creepy, he didn't look it, but Ryan just felt creeped out nonetheless. So he just sat quietly as he stroked his cat's fur as she slept in his lap, reading the letter over a few times while waiting for the long car ride to end.

After about 4 hours of driving, the school came into view.

The school itself did seem a lot different than most schools, for one it was a lot bigger. It was a school that had grade school all the way up to college within it, and dorms that separated them all, the school building and the dormitories had a older style than what Ryan was use to on the outside. Students of all ages were hanging around on the school grounds, there was a small park in the middle of the school too. It really did seem like he was on a set for a movie, it really didn't seem real, and it added to the question, out of anyone they could have reached out to, Ryan wondered why it was him.

The car drove up and stopped in front of one dormitory, the hult of the car snapping the teen out of thought and making him more aware of what was going on outside of the car. There was a young man dressed in the schools uniform waiting on the stepped of the old building, and once the car stopped the young man stood up and walked over to the car as Ryan got out.

"Afternoon," he greeted in a calm voice. Needless to say, close up, the young man was a little intimidating due to the sheer size of him, he looked like he could bench press a full grown cow. "H-Hi..." the smaller teen stuttered slightly. Ryan took a moment to take in the other teens appearance, he had long black hair that was pulled into a ponytail, and unbelievably blue eyes and pale almost white skin, and despite his size, the teen had a gentle atmosphere about him and the way he he smiled.

"Your Ryan right? I'm Otis," the teen greeted keeping his friendly smile, "I'm here to show you around."

The smaller teen nodded, "It's nice to meet you."

After the small exchange Ryan followed the taller teen around the campus, telling him they're take his luggage up to his room, and that his cat would have to stay in his room until everything was verified with the main office, apparently Peaches needed a special tag attached to her collar.

Otis showed him where everything was and how to find his way around, there were signs around the stone trails that went through the campus, showing which way to go when trying to get around, like where the campus shops were, which way to certain buildings, and so on. Ryan asked questions small and Otis answered without a problem. Ryan decided he liked this guy, Otis seemed like a big brother type, and the whole time was friendly and nice in a way that was too genuine to be faked.

Soon he was taken to the main office in the main building for the highschoolers, Ryan was given a class shedule, a dorm key, and that month's allowance, which was given in the form of a student ID that could either be hung around his neck or attached to something like a key chain. The lady warned him not to loose it because it would take a week or so to replace and that he could call to see how much was left on it.

A few other things were explained on they're way back to the dorms, like how dorm hours worked, the rules of the campus, and just the jist of what there was to know.

Ryan was pretty relieved for the most part, other than a few things that still bugged him, the school seemed pretty nice, and it was apparent he had already made a rather helpful friend which was made official when they exchanged numbers. "Ok, that's about it, today's a free day, so you're free to roam around." Otis said pretty much wrapping everything up when the dorms came into view, "You ever need a hand with anything, just let me know, kay?"

"Sure," Ryan agreed happily, but just when the other teen was about to say something a small girl ran up to him and hugged him. "Hi Otis!" she chirped happily up at the tall teen, "Hello Desi, I'm glad to see you," he picked the little girl up, "But what are you doing here? You're supposed to be with Tzili." and almost on que, a teenaged girl with purple dyed hair ran up as a another young girl and what looked like a black german shepherd pup followed close behind, "Sorry!" she shouted catching up, "She saw you and ran off." For a moment Ryan was a little put off by how red the girl's eye coloring was, it seemed a little unnatural to him, but he tried not to judge, she seemed to know Otis pretty well with how well they're small chat flowed so comfortably.

"Otis I'm hungry," Desi chimed in, "Sorry, I tried to feed her earlier, but you know how she is..." Tzili sighed a bit annoyed. "Yea, I know, don't worry about it." Otis turned to Ryan who had been quiet during they're short conversation, "What about you? You hungry?" he asked and the green eyed teen nodded, now that he thought about it, he hadn't eaten since breakfast, and it was already around 2 in the afternoon. "Yea, kinda," he answered a bit shyly.

"Than c'mon, I'll make us something to eat." and without much convincing, Ryan followed the group down a different path.

It didn't take him long to notice that the path they were taking didn't lead to the high school or even the college dorms, which Ryan thought was a bit weird, than he wondered if maybe Otis lived off campus somewhere near by. But the longer they walked, the more he noticed that they weren't leaving the campus, just going somewhere else on it.

"We're going to the special dorms," Ryan flinched as his unasked questions were answered out of the blue, he looked over to see the purple haired girl looking at him over her shoulder, she didn't seem very friendly to be honest. "At this school there are a few special kids who all live in one dorm, which includes me, Otis and the two little ones and a few others." she explained as she looked forward to keep walking.

At one school he attended to when he was younger, he remembered something called the SLP class which was for kids who needed a little extra help, and he guess that's what the special dorms was, though the group ahead of him didn't seem all that needing of special help, well except for the two little girls who seemed to be only in elementary school at the most. But he brushed it off and kept walking until they came up to an old brick building which seemed to be in an area all it's own compared to the other dorms. Again, Ryan found this odd.

The dorm didn't give off a creepy vibe like you would get if you were entering a dangerous place, so he tried not to worry. He had watched a few horror movies, and he didn't get the feeling of danger like when the monster or serial killer was going to pop out at any moment.

Once inside the dorms the two girls darted off down one of the halls as Otis shouted for them to wash up before lunch.

"I hope you don't mind Japanese food, it's sorta a go to thing for me." Otis mentioned as he showed him to the dinning room, Ryan had offered to help make whatever was on the menu, and the other teen accepted the help. "I don't mind, though I cant say I've eaten a lot of it."

"That's fine," Otis handed the smaller teen an apron and the two washed they're hands, "We'll be making a chicken cutlets, rice, with egg on top, and potates and sausages on the side, it's really good and it's one of the few meals I can get the little one to eat willingly."

Ryan followed all of Otis' directions, the older teen showed him how to easily put cheese in the middle of the chicken cutlets before they were breaded and fried. Oddly enough the teen didn't jump back or flinch when the oil popped, but he figured Otis just had thick skin.

Before the cutlets, they made a few other things, like mini sausages with potatoes to go with the steamed rice and cutlets.

After the cutlets were done and cut up, after putting them on the bowls of rice they made some cooked eggs to go on top, while the outsides of the bundles of eggs were cooked well, the side, once cut into so it could cover the top, it was gooey and soft, and looked really good. Needless to say, Ryan had never had something like this, but it had made him twice as hungry as before just looking at it.

After bowls and plates of food were set out Otis reminded the girls that it was hot, and the small group ate they're lunch together.

It was odd, he hadn't been there for very long, but the teen already felt at home. The whole ride he worried about not fitting in and eating alone his first week, but now if felt like a huge weight had disappeared. The meal was hot but really good, and they talked about nothing special, and the chatter flowed so easily too, like they did it everyday. It was a nice feeling.

The rest of the day Ryan hung out around the special dorms with Otis and the two girls, while there he met a few other teens who lived there, one of the first being Otis' roommate, Zero, who gave off the potential bully vibe, but was nice enough Ryan wasn't in fear of being picked on by him, thankfully. Though there was one teen that gave him chills, a teen named Thomas, and from the way he and Otis looked at each other, the two had history, but he didn't ask.

In general, it was a good day, and after it started to get late, Otis walked Ryan back tot he dorms a bit before dinner time.

The two said goodbye for the day and Ryan walked to his dorm room, the smile he had been wearing most of the day still spread across his face.

After all of that, he wasn't sure how his day could get better.

He unlocked his room door, which locked automatically, and entered the room. Peaches had been alone all day, but had been given food and water, so he hadn't worried about her, and while he had been expecting her to trot up to him when he got home, he was greeted by someone else.

"Hello," Ryan blushed as a blond teen around his age smiled at him, "I'm Britton, your roommate."

Today just got better.

[eyez-ff-blog]

○○ eyez | twenty-four

The vibration and ringing of Jermaine’s phone brought him out of his sleep, and he groaned lowly as he lifted his hand to rub over his face. He slowly sat up in bed before he glanced around, grabbing his phone before he glanced down at the alarm he had set for himself. Turning the alarm off, he looked around the room to see that Beija had been gone for quite a while. The lingering scent of her perfume filled his nose, and he slowly moved out of bed as he grabbed his bag to go take another shower in the bathroom. From what he could tell, he was upstairs alone so he felt a bit more comfortable to take the thorough showers he usually did at home.

He grabbed a bath towel and a wash cloth before he entered the bathroom and once he closed and locked the door to the bathroom, he turned on the shower and made sure it got hot. He hopped in and began wo wash off, his mind still a bit empty as opposed to his racing and clustered thoughts. His focus seemed to be on the task of talking to Beija’s parents and trying to solidify his status. Every so often he thought about the sins he committed the night before with their little girl, and he almost wanted to laugh out loud. J was convinced that Beija’s father had decided how he felt, so it would be nothing but amusement for him to look in the man’s face knowing that no matter what Mr. Demarco felt Beija was in love and knowing her, she probably wouldn’t change her mind on it. It was kind of a petty thing to even think that way, but it could be say that he felt a bit of confidence.

Once he got out of the shower, he dried off before putting on some lotion and putting on his clothes for the day. He washed his face, brushed his teeth, and packed up what was his before exiting the bathroom, sitting his bag back in Beija’s room before he slid on his socks and sneakers. After lacing up, he headed downstairs to see the rest of the family in motion. “Hey,” He greeted, and was greeted back collectively as he retreated to the kitchen, seeing Alisha and Beija in the kitchen along with Chantel.

“Here’s the sleepy head! Hey there J,” Chantel greeted with a chuckle, and he smiled faintly before he nodded, walking over to give her a brief hug.

“I think I slept too long or y’all get up extra early,” He glanced at the clock to see that it was only nine in the morning. “Y’all some early birds,” He decided before he approached B from behind, grabbing her waist before kissing her cheek. “Morning, beautiful,” He mumbled. “Good morning, Mrs. Demarco,” He greeted Alisha as well.

“Boy, you don’t have to be so formal—you can just call me Alisha,” The older woman chuckled. “But I assume you slept well, right? There’s some breakfast for you in the microwave, by the way,” She said.

“I did, thank you,” He walked over to the microwave before decided to heat up the plate that was inside before taking it out. “What y’all got cookin’ over there anyway?” He asked.

“We’re making the usual sides—mama’s making her famous baked beans and I’m making the potato salad,” Beija explained.

“I can’t wait They’ll having you licking the plate,” Alisha assured.

“I see where babygirl gets her confidence and her skills from. I know those beans are gonna be great,” J chuckled, glancing back to open the microwave before he grabbed the plate and inspected the food upon it—the main dish seemed to be the biscuits and sausage gravy, with eggs and hash browns. “Even this breakfast looks good,” He commented.

“I told you my mama can cook. Where you think I got it from?” Beija chuckled a bit before J sat down at the table across from Chantel, starting to eat his food. “Then we got coleslaw, broccoli slaw, pasta salad, and cucumber salad in the fridge; we’ve got mac and cheese in the oven...we’re gonna make corn on the cob soon enough, dirty rice...” She listed.

“Don’t forget the lemon cake I made,” Chantel grinned.

“Y’all all cook?” J asked curiously.

“Everyone except for Marquis and Alonzo, pretty much. They’re as inept as you,” B joked, making the other women laugh.

“Oh, wow,” J drew out the ‘wow’ dramatically, laughing along with them. “You see how she do me, Alisha? Just a mess,” He complained.

“Don’t be bothering him like that. Remember, your father couldn’t boil water at one point and now he cooks all the time. He just needs a good teacher,” Alisha said.

“I’m teaching him stuff! Baby, can’t you cook a good omelet now? Tell them,” B pouted as she looked back at him.

“Yeah, she put me on to the veggie omelet thing so I can cook that now. Progress is progress,” He chuckled before he took another bite of his food.

“Hey, that’s pretty good! Alonzo still burns the toast,” Chantel said as Alonzo entered the kitchen from the backyard door. She grinned when he glanced at her, giggling when he sucked his teeth.

“You in here talking mess about me to the new guy, huh? Cool,” He shook his head slowly before he grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler in the corner. “Hey, Jermaine—you good at Spades?” He asked.

“I’m pretty good. Wassup?” J asked once he was able to swallow his food.

“Kieran needs a partner and since pops is holding down the grill he can’t do it. You down for playing?” Alonzo asked, uncapping the bottle of water.

“Yeah, sure. Just let me finish eating,” J nodded.

“Don’t take too long—no need to halt an ass whooping,” Alonzo made his way outside, and the women cooed in instigation.

“Alonzo loves a good game of Spades, but don’t let his slick talking get to you,” Chantel said with a small laugh.

Jermaine laughed to himself as he put the disposable utensil and plate into the trashcan. “I’m not even worried,” He walked to the cooler and grabbed a bottle of cranberry juice before he walked over to Beija and kissed the side of her head. “Let me go out here and kill this game,” He chuckled.

“Go get ‘em,” B laughed, and he smirked as he headed outside into the backyard area.

J paused for a second to look around the area, and admired the beauty of the seemingly endless yard of grass. The little girl he met the night before was playing in the grass with what he assumed were the Demarco’s dogs. The three brothers were talking at the card table while Mekhi was nearby at the grill and also manning a boiling pot—music was being played and the air was filled with the smell of smoky meat and charcoal.

“Come pull up a seat, J! Let’s play,” Kieran grinned, and J nodded before he sat down at the table. “Alonzo said you’re ‘pretty good,’ so let’s have a good game,” He nodded.

“I got you, man. We’re gonna win—no doubt about it,” J promised, and Marquis let out a low whistle before laughing himself.

“Look at this; aye, pops! Dude’s got a lot of confidence playing against us,” Marquis said, and Mekhi let out a low chuckle as he continued to keep his eyes on the grill.

“Mhm, I see. He and Kieran might have a chance if he’s about what he says,” Mekhi said simply, and J kept his focus on the table as the cards were shuffled and dealt.

A series of three games had went by, and J was proud of the fact that he and Kieran had won all three of them. Even after the last book was placed upon the table, Marquis groaned loudly as J and Kieran laughed and shook hands. “Gotdamn it, man. Y’all something else,” Marquis complained.

“I have to admit...you’re good, Jermaine. Real good,” Alonzo said before chuckling lightly.

“You ain’t think I was gonna come to the table and let you play me, did you?” J laughed a bit before Logan came running towards the table.

“Hey daddy,” She greeted before she looked at the score on the nearby notepad. “Ooh. Uncle Marquis got a big number,” She commented.

“Yeah, daddy didn’t win this one,” Alonzo chuckled as he rubbed the top of her head. “You done playing with Onyx and Royal?” He asked, speaking of the two pitbull dogs who were now resting in their dog houses.

“Yeah, I’m gonna get a popsicle,” She announced before she bounced into the house, closing the door behind her.

“How old is she?” J commented, glancing over at the door.

“Just turned five,” Alonzo said as he ran his hand over his head. “About to be fifty soon. She swear she grown,” The men began to laugh.

“That’s crazy, I remember when we saw her at the hospital still,” Marquis commented. “She was so small from being born premature,” He said.

“Yeah. That was a crazy time. And kinda ironic because apparently it runs in the family. Dad was a premie too,” He commented.

“Oh yeah! Wasn’t Beija premature too?” Kieran commented.

“Yep. By three months. I didn’t see her until she was like a month old; that’s when the hospital allowed mama to bring her home,” J sat quietly as he listened to them speak, just allowing himself to soak things in.

“But now babygirl’s going to kindergarten soon. And Kelsei’s pregnant too, now. Time flies so fast,” Kieran commented, speaking of his wife. “It’d be so cool if...you know, Rashaad was here with us,” He said quietly.

“I know, right? I’m sure he’d have at least two girlfriends. Maybe a baby mama,” Marquis commented, and the boys laughed a small bit.

“Yeah, and it’s funny because Logan looks just like ‘Shaad. It’s actually uncanny,” Alonzo said as the little girl returned outside with a slew of popsicles in her hands. “I thought you said one popsicle, mama,” He raised an eyebrow as he looked over at her.

“I did! And one for you,” She handed Alonzo a purple one. “And one for uncle Kieran, and uncle Marquis,” She passed out an orange one to Kieran, then a yellow one to Marquis. “And one for Mr. Jermaine,” She passed J a blue one.

“What flavor is this?” J asked.

“Blue raspberry, like mine,” Logan held up her popsicle before she took a quick lick at it. “Auntie BB told me you like that flavor,” She said.

“Auntie was right—it’s my favorite. Thank you Logan,” He smiled softly.

“You’re welcome,” Logan grinned before she gasped. “Oooh, Daddy—can I show Mr. Jermaine the dogs? Please?” She begged.

“Go ahead, ask him if he wanna see them,” Alonzo said.

“You wanna see the dogs?” Logan asked, and took Jermaine’s free hand when he obliged to her request. He got up and allowed her to lead him across the yard to where the dogs were laying in their houses. “The black one is Royal, and the gray one is Onyx,” She pointed them out.

“They’re very nice looking. I had a dog like this when I was a kid,” He watched Onyx come out of his dog house, and he allowed the dog to sniff his hand. “You like dogs, Logan?” He asked.

“Uh-huh. But my mama allergic so I play with them when I come to see granny and pawpaw,” She explained, sitting on the grass. Jermaine sat down next to her and they ate their popsicles while the dogs laid before them. “How did you meet my auntie?” She asked.

“Well, your auntie works for my record label,” He said, and he watched Logan’s eyes widen. “She looks for all the singers and rappers and stuff, and we met around a year ago,” He explained.

“You sing?” She asked.

“I wish. I rap,” Jermaine took a bite at his popsicle before chewing slowly. “And well, when I met your auntie I liked her very much. So we became friends, then I asked her to be my girlfriend,” He added.

“Ooh,” Logan giggled. “Auntie likes you a lot! She gets all smiley when you’re with her. Like my mommy does with my daddy,” She said.

“Really now? You think so?” Jermaine was amused at the little girl’s insight.

“Yep! I like you too. You’re really nice,” She smiled up at him, her lips as blue as could be.

“Well thanks, mama. You’re nice too,” J gave the girl a high-five before they went back to eating their popsicles.

The food eventually got finished—along with the multitude of sides came grilled hot dogs and hamburgers, sausage, beef ribs, chicken, brisket and steak. Along with the traditional Texas barbeque, there was boiled crawfish with potatoes, sausage and corn. For dessert was lemon cake, peach cobbler, fruit salad and ice cream. The family sat down to eat and afterward, they all headed out of the house to do their family tradition.

Jermaine wasn’t too familiar with what they were doing, but followed along just to participate and be a good sport. He drove in the car with Beija and her parents as they led the caravan of three vehicles, and it wasn’t until they reached a cemetery that he realized what they were going to do next.

He got out of the car once it parked, and he helped Beija out of the car as well before he walked with her through the yard, passing the various tombstones and monuments. Eventually they reached the proper tombstone and he read over it in silence—Rashaad Terrell Demarco, 1988-2002. Son, Brother, Friend.

He stood silently as he looked down at Beija, who was staring at the tombstone blankly. He wasn’t sure what she was feeling or what was going through her head as she stared at the final resting place of her older brother, but he knew that he wanted to comfort her. “Hey,” He mumbled, and she snapped out of her trance as she glanced up at him. “You’re okay. It’s okay,” He said, and she bit her lip before he wrapped his arms around her to hug her gently. The family continued to silently pay their respects, leaving fresh flowers and cards at Rashaad’s grave, giving him silent reminder that though his physical presence had been long gone, his memory wasn’t anything close to being forgotten. After they spent some time at the cemetery, they returned home and released some red balloons in front of their home—it was his favorite color.

The day got lighter in heart as it grew into the later hours, and by this time everyone was pretty much in good spirits due to the good food and liquor that passed through the adults. By this time, everyone was out in the back yard, and while Alonzo was helping Logan with the fireworks, everyone else was talking amongst themselves as they waited for the sun to disappear and the fireworks to begin.

Jermaine had been nursing his Hennessy for the longest time, wondering how he would approach Mekhi and what he would say to him. He knew the best policy was honesty, but he was convinced that the man was an impenetrable wall—most men were when it came to their daughters. But J knew he’d have to suck it up and do it. He was too damn old to be scared and cop out. So he slowly got up from his seat and walked over to Mekhi, who was listening to the music playing and smoking a cigar. “Mind if I sit?” He asked.

“It’s a free country, son,” Mekhi said, and Jermaine took a seat before he finished sipping on his drink. “I was wondering when you were going to come over here. It was going to happen eventually,” He said, and J nodded slowly.

“Glad you know. So let’s talk,” J said before swallowing a wad of air, sitting up a little straighter. “I’m sure you probably looking at me crazy. I’m just some dude your daughter brought home, and you’re probably wary,” He began.

“Before you even start, let me just explain something to you,” Mekhi began, and Jermaine raised an eyebrow slowly. “I’ve done my research on you—the moment Beija told me who she was working for, I did my research. I know who you are. I know where you’re from and how you’ve came up,” The older man ran a hand over his shortened curls as he spoke. “I know about your ex-wife, I know about the tabloids, and I know what my daughter allowed me to know about you and her. I know you mean no harm but I am still inclined to question you. Do you understand why?” He asked.

“Because that’s your kid,” J assumed.

“Exactly,” Mekhi looked over at Jermaine after taking a swig of his Red Stripe beer. “I raised my sons with the expectation that they’d be like me. It’s different with Beija; I had more pressure in being the best man I could be for her. What she saw in me would be what she looked for in other men, Jermaine. It forms her opinions on significant others, on herself, on the world around her. I want her to be happier than Alisha and I ever were,” He explained. “You seem like a good guy—you’ve charmed my family, and even got Alonzo to accept you, which is no easy feat. And my daughter...she loves you. I see it in her eyes whenever she speaks of you,” The two glanced at Beija, who was dancing with Chantel in the yard. She laughed loudly as the two began to sing along with the lyrics. “I’ve never seen her so happy...even when she shows us joy, it wasn’t like this...it feels different. She’s different, and I feel like you have something to do with it,” Mekhi admitted.

“I ain’t doin’ much, Mr. Demarco. I just do what I feel is right for her. Her happiness and health means a lot to me,” J explained. “Like I told your son last night—I love her. She means so much to me, and I’m trying to do right by her so that my past doesn’t repeat. I don’t wanna be without her,” He admitted.

“I believe you when you say that,” Mekhi sighed before he looked over at Jermaine again. “Please take care of my daughter. I’m asking you, man to man,” He said.

“Beija’s good. She’s gonna be alright. Even if, God forbid, we don’t last—she’s stronger than you know. But I’m a man of my word. I’m gonna be there for her,” J promised.

“That’s all I ask. If you keep up your word, you’re good with me,” Mekhi held out his hand, and J smiled as they shook hands.

“Hey, come on grouches!” Beija ran over to the men, chuckling as she placed her hands on Jermaine’s shoulders. “Fireworks are about to start. Come on,” She grinned.

“Alright,” He nodded at Mekhi briefly before he took Beija’s hands and allowed her to lead him to a place where they could watch the show clearly.

“I see you and my dad are getting along. I’m so glad,” Beija said with a chuckle as she hugged his torso. “You actually was a big hit with everyone. Even my brothers, I’m so impressed,” She laughed.

“I’m just glad they accepted me. Thank you for bringing me here and letting me experience this with you,” He leaned down and kissed her forehead.

“Of course,” She chuckled lowly as she rubbed his back, gazing up at him. “You’re a part of my family now, and this is how we do things. Together,” She said.

Jermaine felt this weird warmth overcome him, and he bit into his lip slowly as he nodded slowly. “Family,” He repeated, glancing up as the first firework soared into the sky, displaying colors amongst the night sky. He looked down at Beija as she stared at the sky, her eyes lit up with excitement as the bursting colors reflected in her eyes. J let a smile spread across his face as he stared down at her for a moment, and then looked back down at the sky.