#isabella holding like one of those little trays thinking she's doing it all by herself but carrillo's carrying all of it skdjkdksjdd

[hansoulo]

isabelle and carrillo would wake up super early to make reader breakfast in bed for Mother’s Day, complete with flowers they hand picked, send tweet

you know what

you know what

fuck it

i’m adding more chapters

#me @ myself staring at my google doc outline: PUNK'D #ok so put that on the list now #along with ferdinand #ugh it'd be so cute can you imagine #isabella holding like one of those little trays thinking she's doing it all by herself but carrillo's carrying all of it skdjkdksjdd #one little flower that may or may not be a weed that she pulled out from the park lmao #anon #ask #lari speaks #aint it a gentle sound inspo

[thepandamightwrite]

Chapter 1: The Poisoning

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Alcohol mention, poison, indirect death mention, attempted murder

Age group: Young adult

Whole Story Blurb: When Amira Bashir almost dies from hydrogen peroxide poisoning, PI Anjali Dayal must figure out who wants the president dead. Only 6 people could've spiked the glass, and with all of them having strong motives and shaky alibis, the case proves quite difficult to crack.

Notes: I’m so excited to share part one of my WIP with you guys! This idea has been nagging at me for a little while and I finally got around to writing it. Constructive criticism is always appreciated! Hope you enjoy it!

~†~

The elaborate diamond chandelier tosses tiny rainbows around the ballroom packed with drunk ambassadors. Isabella Garcia wishes she could stop working for a little bit and admire the splendor, maybe take a few pictures as well. But alas, she's still on duty and Luke will throw a fit if she stops for even a moment. As she makes her way back to the White House kitchens, she can't help but feel the familiar stab of envy at her extravagant surroundings. The people that claimed to be working for common citizens were the ones spending $50,000 on a glass of champagne.

Normally, Isabella would be able to put it out of her mind and do her job properly, but the imbalance irks her more than usual today. She throws open the doors of the kitchen and within a couple seconds, a tray full of drinks is thrust in her arms and she's shuttled back to the cursed ballroom. "Stupid ambassadors. Being treated like kings and queens instead of the entitled scums they are," Isabella grumbles as she trudges down the plush, carpeted hallways. On her way, Isabella glances at the note on her tray that guides her to the drinks' final destination, and she almost drops the glasses in surprise.

40 y/o Macallan Whiskey ---------------------------------- Ambassador William Burton

Dom Perignon --------------------------------------------------- Ambassador Irina Petrov

Orange Juice ------------------------------------------------- First Husband Aariz Bashir

Sparkling Water --------------------------------------------------- President Amira Bashir

Isabella stands in the middle of the deserted hallway, her jaw on the floor, stomach turning, and her sweaty palms struggle to grip the tray that's slowly sliding out of her grasp. Get ahold of yourself Garcia. Don't screw this up. She straightens her tie, runs her fingers through her hair, and pats the vial in her pocket. Considering her clientele, she'd need it later.

~†~

Secret Service Agent Miyoko Mori glances down at her watch, whose hands aren't moving any faster, despite her staring at it incessantly for the last few hours. 2 minutes and 30 seconds left. She drums her restless fingers against the table with the poison testing materials. No one's ever dared to spike anyone's glass, after all, there wasn't exactly a way to get anything dangerous into the White House in the first place. But still, out of a ridiculous abundance of caution, Miyoko had to test every single glass entering the ballroom for traces of toxins. Where is she?

Suddenly, Isabella turns the corner, balancing a tray of drinks and donning an endearing smile. "Agent Mori! I'm baaaack!" she calls in a singsong voice. "It's about time," Miyoko retorts. "I've been waiting for you to show up for the last 5 minutes! It's so dull here and I missed talking to you." "Aww, can't live without me can you," Isabelle teases with a flirty grin. "I mean I could, but it'd be rather boring, especially considering the only other person here is Agent Carter," Miyoko responds, gesturing at the burly man a few feet away. "That does sound rough," agrees Isabella. "But try serving drinks to drunk, pompous officers, and you'll be begging for your boring job in a few minutes." Agent Mori shakes her head disapprovingly as she places the poison testing strips inside each drink.

Then, she notices the label on the tray revealing that one of these drinks will reach the president herself. Well, the universe is certainly kind to me today, she thinks to herself. I'd be a fool not to take the opportunity that's fallen so perfectly into my lap. Once the tests come back negative, she takes the strips out of the glasses, lingering for just a second longer than she needs to in order to get the job done. "You're all good to go," Miyoko says, lying through her teeth.

~†~

Why didn't I wear heels, laments Russian Ambassador Irina Petrov as she waits for her drink. Most people would be glad to don comfortable flats instead of piercing stilettos, but the cursed shoes give her the 2 inches of height she so desperately needs. Especially considering her peers are at least a foot taller than her, Irina could use the heels to make people take her seriously. Sometimes, she wished Ambassador Burton wouldn't be listened to either, after all, he did spout nonsense most of the time. At the moment, he was debating the president and her husband about some stupid topic Irina couldn't bring herself to care about.

In that respect, Amira is commendable to say the least. Even though she's only a couple inches taller than Irina, Amira Bashir has a certain air of power and influence that makes even the most stubborn man pay attention. If only circumstances were different, I could actually learn a thing or two from her.

The British Ambassador, William Burton, starts yapping about drug prices and Aariz Bashir looks like he'd rather be anywhere else. Or maybe he was babbling about the military. Irina had already consumed a few too many drinks. She would look better with pale skin and glassy eyes. She shakes her head vehemently in an attempt to banish the distasteful thoughts from her mind. "Really Ambassador Burton? I would've thought you of all people would be in support of the Bashir Trade Deal. After all, the trade routes it proposes would make it far easier to distribute goods all over Russia," challenges the president. Oh no. Irina stammers an excuse for her absentmindedness, hoping that it could all be blamed on the 4 glasses of champagne she'd consumed earlier in the evening. One glance at Amira told her that wasn't the case and her stomach churned in apprehension.

The president was intimidating on a regular day, but seeing her angry was even worse. Ambassador Petrov could never forget that fateful day when she'd been more terrified of Amira than her, or probably anyone, had been in their lives. If the president could hold a grudge just like she did her secret, Irina was in big trouble. Amira's strategy was to let the information fester until it drove everyone to insanity. Not for much longer. Right on cue, the waitress arrives with the drinks and after William takes his whisky, Irene reaches for her champagne with shaking hands, hesitating longer than necessary.

~†~

Amira eyelids feel like they are 250 pound weights, as though she would fall asleep any minute. Although she's never consumed any alcohol, she still felt rather hungover from all the useless conversation. Back when Amira first ran for president, she hadn't realized how many meaningless balls and galas she'd be subject to. Naively, she'd taken the job thinking she'd be transparent about everything and only do things that would help regular, working class people. Unfortunately, that childish dream had been extinguished after a few months, when the AI war took place. The casualties still weighed heavily on Amira's conscience, but if she could go back and make those difficult decisions again, she probably wouldn't change anything. That truly scared her.

"President Bashir, you have a meeting with the Secretary of State in 15 minutes," chirps Alyssa Miller, her personal assistant. "Very well. If you could get the necessary technology ready, I'll meet you in the Oval Office in 10 minutes." "Absolutely," Alyssa replies as she scurries off, leaving 3 broken vases and multiple squashed toes in her wake. President Bashir shakes her head, but laughs to herself as the waitress brings their drinks.

"Here you are, dear," says Aariz as he hands Amira her sparkling water. The president knows her husband is quiet to begin with, but this was the first sentence he'd spoken for the whole evening. Something was off, and Amira intended to find out, right after this stupid gala was over. As she reaches for her glass, Agent Brown swats her hand out of the way and takes it for himself. "Lucas!" "Sorry ma'am, it's protocol," he responds with an apologetic expression on his face. President Bashir rolls her eyes at the unnecessary precautions, but waits for the glass to be tested for poison. She looks around the room, noticing the nervous, distracted, apprehensive expressions of the people closest to her. Something seems a little off about everyone, but before Amira can think about it too much, Lucas yells the fateful words that sends her life spiralling. "There's poison!"

~†~

#a presidential poisoning #anika actually writes #anika writes #my writing #my WIP #chapter 1

[misslisterkeepsajournal]

1825 Monday 26 December

9 2 Tib asleep last night I could not help musing on Mrs Milne she was down this morning ten minutes before me rapped at my door gently as she went - Down to breakfast at 10 20/60 - she was waiting for me I looked as if impassioned but as if fearing she might be angry said I could bear her hate or her indifference but not her kindness I was not myself she saw the influence she had over me she looked encouragement leaned to me in kissing and gave her open lips I might have done what I would with her she asked me to write to her but ah said she you can speak much better you will write very differently you will be calm then I bade her write to me first and she promised she would I said you told me on Friday you could excite the feelings of another and keep your own calm 'oh so you think me so base dont say so to me I am not so base' but it is impossible your feelings should be like mine 'no it is not impossible' and she bent herself to me I shewing excitement and holding back oh said I I cannot stand it you cannot misunderstand me you know what you do she looked tender and we sat down like lovers or like those whose love was authorized

I had before slightly hinted at my being wrong behaving ill etc. could not help it etc. 'oh no tis I am wrong but dont talk of it' she asked who gave me the ring I did not say at first but then said it was Pi [Mariana] and my uncle made me wear it she was more obliged to him than me she had said yesterday Pi [Mariana] liked me better than her husband I knew how she had joked about my sleeping with Pi [Mariana] (which she did not deny) but she never made a worse hit Pi [Mariana] was cold I could once have liked her but I thought and had often told her she had behaved very ill to me but my uncle and aunt were more her friends than I they thought her the most judicious friend I could have perhaps they were mistaken but I had given my promise I could not live on air and so decided was my uncle I had no alternative tho perhaps a little more geniality would suit me better and make me happier to which Mrs Milne agreed I said perhaps after all Mrs Milne and I were meant for each other she would have a very different influence over me from that Pi [Mariana] had and if she had been tied to a mind like mine with such devotion we might have both been very different I said I had often pitied her she said it was not easy to meet with a mind like mine she believed she had no friend in the world but Charlotte and she might not be such if she knew all yes said I you have another 'may I count upon that' yes said I you may 'will you always think so you will change when you are away' of course I protested not I said I did not know that Pi [Mariana] would let her come and visit us which seemed not to surprise her said Pi [Mariana] had behaved ill I had neither made the match nor marred it knew no more of it than the pope till all was in fact settled - yet still I was attached to Pi [Mariana] for I respected and esteemed her more than any woman breathing Mrs Milne said I had surprised her much the girls came they are coming said I give me one kiss 'the devil take them' I heard her mutter to herself then saw her preside at the breakfast table with all the ease of her usual manner - we kept up an understanding with our feet -

After breakfast she shewed me before Charlotte the letter she had had from her sons school master an awkwardish one about terms she scarce knew what to answer and must write by us (Tib and me) I directly wrote her the copy of what she and Charlotte approved she had told me before that Charlotte had said she never liked me so well before Charlotte mentioned the letter I had written for Tib to Beatrix on her marrying Norcliffe and I am in high favour - on going up to send all my things Mrs Milne came for a moment I kissed her she said 'do not forget me say I love you Harriet' ah said I it is not love tis adoration but do you love me 'yes I do love you' well dont look cross at me the next time I see you 'how can you say so you have me quite' and she kissed me with open lips I might have taken any liberty I pleased you have me yes thought I she would see us off and stood at the door in the cold whether she can love me or not she has committed herself we have both gone too far to retract I thought and think of this poor Pi [Mariana] how can I trust myself I know not yet how keen remorse will be or if I have too little virtue left to feel it deeply - I cannot do not respect Mrs Milne I told her seriously she must not now be nonsensical with anyone else I could not stand it I should be desperately jealous she has no conduct she would intrigue with anyone - how can I trust such a woman -

CN [Charlotte Norcliffe], and IN [Isabella Norcliffe], came down to breakfast a little after 11 - Long conversation with Mrs. N- [Norcliffe] in her bed - she never seemed more fond of me will write all her mind to me - Her gout better this morning - the luncheon tray brought in - a young Mr. and Miss Strickland called - IN- [Isabella Norcliffe] and I off in the gig at 1 1/2 George riding CN-'s [Charlotte Norcliffe's] pony - met Norcliffe and his wife and party going to Howsham to the christening of colonel Cholmley's little girl Beatrix Louisa - stopt for IN- [Isabella Norcliffe] at Mrs. Ridley's the lord mayors walk, and at Nicholsons in College Street, set IN- [Isabella Norcliffe] down at the Black Swan, and got out myself here (at Mr. Duffin's) at 4 1/2 - Dinner at 5 - Talked away the evening - IN- [Isabella Norcliffe] came to tea a little after 8, and staid till very near 11 - Miss M- [Marsh] and I walked with her to the Black Swan where we left her for the night after staying a few minutes to look at her room etc. etc. Got back in 1/2 hour Mr. and Miss D- [Duffin] gone to bed - went to my room at 11 1/2 -

Miss Duffin soon came to me and staid till near two for I curled my hair while she was with me then latterly turned to obscurely love making she said I was very odd I said I was very foolish she knew not how much so she was evidently interested she scarce knew why and staid because she could not get away she likes me I suit her she speaks confidentially thought I to myself here am I flirting again not contented with my folly with Miss Milne how can I trust myself - Very fine day - beautiful moonlight night - E.O..-  

Reference: SH:7/ML/E/9/0044

#anne lister #anne lister code breaker #gentleman jack #1825 #langton hall #mrs milne

[nazariolahela]

Something Domestic: Chapter 7

A/N: Hey y'all! This is a new TRR AU I’ve been working on. This story is told in first-person narrative, from Riley’s (MC) POV. There will likely be smidges of canon in this, but not too much. Thanks for reading, and please leave feedback, and/or if you would like to be tagged.

Catch up here

Series Tags: @burnsoslow​ @aworldoffandoms​ @dcbbw​ @ladyangel70​ @texaskitten30​ @sunandlemons​ @jlynn12273​ @indiacater​ @jared2612​ @rainbowsinthestorm​ @drakesensworld​ @badchoicesposts​ @msjr0119​ @katurrade​ @blackcoffee85​ @cynicalworlds-blog​ @hopefulmoonobject​ @beardedoafdonutwagon​ @cmestrella​ @sugarandspice-milkandhoney​

Synopsis: When Riley Brooks takes a new job as a nanny for the affluent Rhys family in New York’s Upper East Side, she assumes she’s just going to care for the children of the couple who hired her. But instead of just school pick-ups and afternoon snacks, she also finds herself spending time with Liam, the handsome divorced dad. Can Riley control her feelings for Liam while still performing the job she was hired for?

All characters are the property of Pixelberry Studios. Thanks for allowing me to borrow them.

Chapter Summary: Riley takes the kids on a playdate, and learns a startling secret.

My first week on the job goes by surprisingly quick. Before I know it, Friday has arrived. Liam and Madeleine have already left for work and I’m getting the kids ready to start the day. Before she left, Madeleine informed me that she set up a playdate for the kids with some friends of hers. And after the incident in the park on Monday, Liam hired security detail for me, much to my chagrin. Mara — my new bodyguard — sits in the kitchen sipping a cup of coffee while I wash up the dishes from breakfast.

“Riley? Can we go to the zoo today?” Charlotte asks between bites of scrambled egg whites.

I stop washing the frying pan in the sink and turn to her. She looks at me with those emerald eyes, the same ones her mother uses to judge my every move. “Your mommy actually set up a playdate for you and Philip today. So we’re going over to see the Auvernal twins.”

Charlotte frowns. “I don’t like them. They're mean. Amelia doesn’t share her toys and Henry spit on me.”

Oh boy. This is going to be fun. Why am I not surprised that Madeline’s friend’s kids are brats? Before he left this morning, Liam did mention that Bradshaw and Isabella were a little too “hoity-toity” for his taste. Whatever that means. I guess the Ruby Red doesn’t fall far from the tree. I finish washing the pan and drain the sink, placing the sponge on the back and dry my hands.

“I’ll be there the whole time to make sure they are nice to you. If there’s a problem, Mara and I will take care of it.” She looks to Mara, then back at me, and nods then shoves a forkful of eggs into her mouth. Philip picks at his bowl of yogurt parfait, eating only the blueberries and strawberries. Yogurt is smeared on his cheeks.

”Can we go to the park again and see Mr. Toad? I miss him,” he asks.

I grimace. After the incident on Monday, I was forbidden by Madeleine from taking them to the park without prior approval. ”Uh, your mommy doesn't want us to go to the park for a while, bud. So, we're going to have to think of something else to do afterward. Maybe I can text her and see if we can go to the Children's Museum after your playdate.”

The kids finish up their breakfast as I pack up their travel bag. Mara gets on her phone and calls Bastien to bring the car around. Once everyone is ready to go, we make our way downstairs to meet him. Mara helps me fasten the kids into their booster seats, and waits for me to climb in after them, then takes her place in the front seat. As we make our journey to the Auvernal’s penthouse, the kids argue over who will be stuck playing with which twin. Jesus, these kids must be a nightmare.

Twenty-five minutes later, we arrive at their penthouse in Tribeca and I usher the children to the Auvernal’s quarters. A man in a waistcoat, grey striped trousers, a white Windsor cut shirt, and a black tie greets us and escorts us to a private keyed elevator. Once we reach the top floor, the door opens directly into an expansive foyer and my jaw immediately drops. This place is amazing! A gracious living room is accented by floor-to-ceiling windows and the terrace overlooks the iconic Tribeca architecture. The floors are Brazilian wenge hardwood, and a custom built-in wood-burning fireplace gives the room an elegant yet intimate feel.

As we are guided through the kitchen, I take in the granite countertops, white wood cabinetry, the Viking and Sub Zero appliances, and a 12-foot marble island. I’m pretty sure the fridge costs a month’s rent. The butler leads us into a playroom area attached to a bedroom suite with a private balcony.

“Master Henry and Mistress Amelia will arrive shortly,” he says before bowing and exiting the room. The kids and I take a seat on the plush leather sofa in the room, while Mara stands guard outside the door. A few minutes later, a young woman in a royal blue cardigan over a black tea-length dress enters, followed by two young children. The boy has brown eyes, short sandy brown hair, and tan skin. He is wearing a navy blue suit jacket, white dress shirt, and charcoal grey pants. The girl also has brown eyes and tan skin, but her hair is dark brown and pulled into a high pony wrapped in a lavender bow. She is wearing a lavender sundress under a white cardigan.

I rise from the sofa. “You must be Amelia and Henry. I’m Riley.” The children eye me skeptically, looking to their nanny for guidance. The young woman nods.

“Manners, children. What do we say when we greet our guests?” she snaps in a thick French accent and moves toward me, extending her hand. “Hello, I am Bridgette. The children’s au pair. So nice to meet you, Riley.”

Henry and Amelia move towards where Charlotte and Philip are sitting. “Hey, Philip. I got a new train set. Wanna play?” Henry asks. Philip nods and the two make their way to the corner of the room, where a huge toy chest sits. Amelia grabs Charlotte’s hand and drags her to the other end, to a larger-than-life dollhouse. The children laugh and play as Bridgette and I take our seats on the couch. I watch them for a few minutes, making sure everything is going smoothly. Philip and Henry take turns hooking up cars to the train and snapping pieces of the track together. On the other side of the room, Charlotte and Amelia hold a fashion show with their Barbie dolls.

These kids don’t seem so bad. Maybe I misjudged them. The butler from earlier enters the room, carrying a tray with a teapot and two teacups. He sets the tray on the coffee table in front of us and pours a cup for Bridgette and I, before bowing and exiting the room. Bridgett and I get to know each other as the kids play. I learn that she is also an education major and is studying abroad at Steinhardt, my alma mater. She tells me about living in France and asks me if I've been. I give her pointers about what classes to take and fun things to do while she's here.

After about an hour, I excuse myself to use the bathroom. The butler — whose name I learn is Nigel — escorts me to the “guest” bathroom. And by “guest,” I mean holy shit! This bathroom is bigger than my entire apartment. The five-fixture bathroom has bluestone and marble finishes, double sinks, a Duravit soaking tub, and separate shower stall. There is also a stunning Bec Brittain tailored light sculpture hanging from the ceiling and a large walk-in closet with custom Poliform cabinetry. This is so over-the-top for a guest bathroom, I can only imagine what the rest of the penthouse looks like. I finish up and head back to the playroom, and as I reach for the door handle, I hear the sounds of children arguing, followed by Bridgette scolding in French. I sigh deeply and roll my eyes before pushing the door open. I enter and find Philip and Henry playing tug-o-war with a G.I. Joe action figure, while Bridgette attempts to break them up. The discarded remnants of the train set they were playing with earlier lay scattered on the floor.

”These are my toys! You can't play with them!” Henry screams.

”You weren't even playing with it, ” Philip replies as tears streak down his little cheeks.

As I move over to assist Bridgette with the boys, I hear a shriek from across the room. I whip my head around to see Charlotte gripping her arm, and Amelia yanking a Barbie from her grasp.

”She bit me!” Charlotte cries as Amelia scowls and clutches the doll to her chest.

”Okay, kids. That's enough for today. Let's say goodbye to Amelia and Henry, ” I say, gathering their things. Bridgette looks at me apologetically as I escort the children out of the room. With Mara trailing, I nod goodbye to Nigel and head out.

During the car ride home, I comfort Philp and examine Charlotte’s wound. The bite mark wasn't enough to break the skin, but it clearly upset her. Who knew a couple of five-year-olds could be such assholes? I’ll definitely have to tell Liam about today. When we arrive at the Rhys penthouse, we bid Bastien goodbye and make our way inside. A half-dozen paparazzi litter the sidewalk outside the building, snapping our photos. I do my best to ignore them and usher the kids upstairs. The kids make their way to their playroom and I plop down on the sofa in the living room, sighing loudly.

“Everything alright, Miss?” Mara asks.

“Yeah. It’s just that dealing with those bratty Auvernal kids was exhausting. No wonder Charlotte didn’t want to play with them this morning.”

Mara smirks. “Makes you want to have kids of your own someday, huh?”

I laugh sarcastically. “Hopefully my kids will be raised better than those little dickheads.”

Just then, Philip comes ambling down the stairs “Riley? I’m bored.”

I rise from my seat and walk over towards him. “Do you want to color? I have some art supplies in my bag.” He nods and I head to the kitchen and retrieve a sketchbook and the 80-piece art set I carry in my tote bag. I tuck a stack of old newspapers under my arm and lead him upstairs into the playroom. I find Charlotte sitting in a chair, flipping through a pop-up book. She looks up and notices the art set in my hand, her eyes growing wide.

“Is that paint?” she asks, setting the book down.

I smile and open it up showing her the collection of crayons, colored pencils, watercolor paints, and paintbrushes. She jumps up and runs over to me, looking at the set in awe. I take the newspapers and lay them down on the floor, so as not to get paint on the carpet. I tear a page out of the sketchbook for each kid and pass them out. “When you guys are done, we can hang these on the fridge for your mommy and daddy to see.”

The kids begin creating pictures, as I pick up the toys scattered throughout the room. After a few hours and several Picassos later, I gather up the supplies and help the kids to clean up. I notice Charlotte’s hands, arms and legs are covered in paint. “Looks like you need a bath, missy. Run along into the bathroom and I’ll help you wash up” I tell her. She giggles and takes off towards the bathroom. I grab an iPad from the entertainment center and open up the Dopey Cat app. I then hand it to Philip. “Can you hang out here for a bit while I give your sister a bath?” I ask. He nods, too engrossed in the game to respond. I chuckle and make my way to the bathroom. Charlotte is already there, her shoes, socks, and dress scattered all over the bathroom floor. I run a bath for her and help her into the tub. Once she’s situated, I grab the shampoo and begin washing her hair. She mimics my actions, washing the hair of her Barbie doll. I grab the detachable showerhead and start rinsing the shampoo from her hair.

“Are you excited to start school next week?” I ask. She nods and continues bathing her doll. She then stops and turns to me.

“Riley? Are you my daddy’s new friend?

I shut off the water and set the showerhead aside. “I’m your nanny, sweetie. I’m yours and Philip’s new friend.”

“Are you going to be staying with us for a while?”

“I am. For as long as your mommy and daddy want me here.” I reach for a loofah and body wash and begin washing the paint off her arms and legs. She nods and dunks her Barbie’s head underwater, washing the shampoo from her hair. “What about Mommy’s friend? Is he going to be staying with us for a while?”

“Uh...I guess that depends. Who is your mommy’s friend?”

“I don’t know. He came over the other night when Daddy was still at work. Mommy kept calling him ‘baby’ but he’s too big to be a baby. She made us go in the playroom and then they went into Mommy’s room and didn’t come out for a long time. Brother and me could hear her crying. I think he was hurting her,” she frowns.

“Does Mommy have friends over a lot?”

“Sometimes. One time she had two ladies over. They sat in the living room and drank grown-up juice. Another time she had her baby friend over. They hung out in her room the whole time.”

My fists clench. I can’t believe Madeleine is bringing her booty calls to the house. And around the kids. Oh, wait, yes I can. Poor Philip and Charlotte. And poor Liam. I’m appalled at the nerve of this woman. I take a deep breath and finish rinsing Charlotte off, before pulling the drain stopper. She gets out of the tub and I wrap her in a fluffy yellow towel. I lead her to her bedroom and help her slip on some clean clothes. After a few minutes, I hear Philip knock on the door. “Riley? I’m hungry.”

I pull my phone out of my pocket and check the time. 5:18 p.m. “Your mommy will be home from work soon, but we can grab a snack for now.” We head downstairs to the kitchen and I grab a jar of peanut butter from the cabinet and apple slices from the fridge. I put everything into a bowl and set it on the table for the kids. As they eat, I take a seat next to them and rest my head in my hands. I think back to what Charlotte told me in the bathroom. Do I tell Liam? Or do I keep my mouth shut and mind my own business?

Ugh. This was not part of the job description.

#something domestic #trr au #trr fanfic #playchoices fanfic #riley brooks #liam rhys #nanny au #nazariolahela fanfic

[mendesmelancholy]

Marks - Chapter 2

a shawn mendes series

Chapter 1 Synopsis: A series where Shawn meets a fan in a tattoo parlour and gets a matching tattoo with her which sparks an unexpected dynamic between two people, learning how to love regardless of their mental illnesses. Warnings: anxiety attack/anxious thoughts, mentions of scars Word Count: 4k Taglist: @shawnmendes-s @negative-love @qrangr @sweetheartmendes @shawnsunflower @into-the-end @sunshineeashton @enchantingbrowneyedgirl @stokedmendes @someoneunimportantxx​ @shawnscheekscar​ A/N: Hey guys! I couldn’t wait till part 1 got to 200 notes (which is a little sad because I LOVE this series and I want other people to love it too. Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! With love, Isabella x

     “Do you believe in fate?” He asks her abruptly. Her brows furrow but she nods, “This feels like fate is screaming at me. Like, this is what I’m supposed to do,” he runs his fingers through his hair, his grip on her hand tightening slightly, “I can’t even describe it.”

     She brushes her lips with her tongue, watching him with uncertainty before looking at Tony. Tony is finishing the last word on her tattoo, nodding his head, encouraging her.

     “Okay. I’ll do it.”

     Her hands tremble as she writes down the lyrics. She does her best to steady her pen, but she can’t help the anxiety crawling into her chest at the thought of one of her musical idols having her handwriting on her for the rest of their lives. She looks up at Shawn, who’s sitting in the tattoo chair, with only his briefs on, chuckling at something Tony says. She looks back down to the counter, her mind going hazy and she can feel the anxiety attack coming on. She swipes at the tears forming in her eyes, digging her fingernails into her palms.

     She’s abruptly aware of his laugh and Tony’s words. She’s aware of the blood pumping through her veins. She’s aware of words surging in her head in a way she can’t quite keep up with. She’s aware of the fear accompanying the anxiety in her throat. Why did she agree to this? What if he doesn’t like it? What if he gets it and regrets it? What if he doesn’t want this? What if he’s doing it just to make her happy?

     Her breath snags in her throat, the fear stopping any sort of thing that could ground her. 

     Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.breathe.breathe.breathebreathebreathebreathe.

     The chant swirls in her head and she can’t breathe. The words jumble in her head along with the lyrics she’s meant to be writing but she can’t get her damn hand to stop shaking. She clutches onto the corner of the chair she’s sitting in, the one Shawn had sat in ten minutes ago, grasping onto something solid. Her fist curls around the Sharpie she’s holding, pressing the tip as hard as humanly possible against the paper. Her vision is blurry with tears, and even as she tries to blink them back, they smear down her cheeks almost the same way the Sharpie was bleeding through the tiny veins of the paper.

     Now, she’s hyperventilating. Her mind has gone eerily silent. She’s shut down. And all she’s left with is the physical reactions occurring in her body. The pounding of her head and heart, the pulsing of her arteries, the trembling of her muscles and the heavy breathing of her lungs.

     Shawn notices the hyperventilating. When he turns to look at the girl, his own heart stops. He’s quickly out of his seat, kneeling on the floor next to her.

     “Hey, hey, hey,” Shawn fumbles, his hand coming to wrap gently around her fingers which are digging to her chair. He can see her swallow hard, eyes boring into the paper in front of her. That’s when he looks at the shaky letters written on the paper and the big black smear from her stress on the marker. He can feel her shaking and he brings his fingers up to brush her pulse point on her wrist. Her heart is going a mile a minute.

     “Honey, breathe with me,” he says. She doesn’t respond, completely blacked out of her surroundings, unaware what’s occurring around her. Shawn’s mind fumbles over ways to get her attention. He needs her to look at him. In his anxiety attacks, he needed to look at someone. Whether it was Andrew, Connor, Brian or his parents. He needed to ground himself with people’s presence. To know he isn’t alone.

     Biting at his lip, he brings one hand he isn’t holding hers with to her right cheek. He gently applies pressure to her soft skin. She doesn’t resist. She allows him to guide her eyes to his and he smiles when her brown eyes meet his. His smile is reassuring and soothing, even though he can tell she’s not exactly looking at him. The look in her eyes is foreign and blank and completely and utterly zoned out and Shawn worries for a quick moment he won’t be able to snap her out of this state,

     “Hey, honey, just keep looking at me,” he doesn’t move his hand. He begins to exaggerate his breathing, showing her she needs to breathe. She seems to understand in her hazy state and begins to take deep breaths. Her breaths shake like her muscles are, still, Shawn doesn’t move his fingers from her pulse point and continues to monitor the pattern in which her heartbeats. His eyes on hers, his touch on her skin, his ability to ground her, is what brings her back. He can feel her heartbeat slowing and hear her breathing evening out. The foggy look behind her eyes begins to dissipate the way clouds part after it’s rained.

     “Hey, there you go,” he soothes, rubbing his thumb along her cheek, nodding encouragingly as she offers him a weak smile. She lets out a long final breath, her body slumping in her seat a little.

     “Thank you,” she mutters. Shawn nods again, unwilling to part from her just yet. She smiles weakly at him, taking another profound breath and steadying her shaking hand that hasn’t moved from the paper.

     “Sorry about that,” she awkwardly chuckles, referring both to her panic attack and the mess she’s made on the paper. She lets go of the pen and sits further back in her seat. Shawn’s grasp doesn’t quite reach so his touch drops from her cheek but rests on her knee instead. He’s still kneeling in front of her and his face is right in front of her. His tall stature proves to be much larger than her, the short girl still shorter than him in her seat and him on his knees.

     “You okay, honey?” He asks.

     “Yeah,” she sighs, using her right hand to pull at the hair tie in her hair. Her hair falls from the confines and flutters around her face. She runs her fingers through her hair, pulling slightly at the roots. Shawn frowns, waiting for her to continue, “Haven’t had one of those in a while.”

     “Did I cause it?” Shawn asks worriedly, sitting back on his heels, still touching her hand that’s relaxed its grip on the chair. The other hand on her knee falls into his lap, but Shawn makes an effort to have a hand on her. He doesn’t want her to get brought back to that place. So, he will anchor her.

     “No, not at all,” she sighs out. She promptly tries to distract herself, “Hey, uh, Tony?”

     “Yeah?”

     “Can you get me a new pen and paper?”

     “Of course.” Tony leaves without another word, never a man of many words, leaving Shawn and her alone. She licks her lips, slumping even farther into her seat and looking up at the ceiling of the tattoo parlour. She swallows, trying to collect herself after her anxiety attack and letting down one of her walls, feeling as if she owes an explanation to Shawn.

     “I’ve just had a lot of family stuff going on. And, I was already really anxious today, so just… having to do something important kind of threw me over the edge.”

     “You don’t have to do the tattoo if you don’t want to.”

     “No,” she blurts, “believe me, I do. I do,” she laments before continuing, her voice returning to its small tone, “I think I honestly needed to have an anxiety attack. I’ve been a dam waiting to break. That’s why Tony didn’t do anything. He knew I needed to release the waters.”

     “Got it,” Shawn says, reluctantly moving his hand from her and moving back to the seat. She barely remembers he’s only in his briefs, her mind occupied with the best way to explain her situation.

     “I just… how much did you hear earlier?”

     “When you guys started talking about my song and everything after that,” Shawn admits, leaning back in his seat as Tony comes back into the room, holding a new, undamaged Sharpie and a blank piece of paper. He hands it to her and she turns back to the counter.

     “Well,” she starts talking to avoid the anxiety returning as she begins writing the lyrics again, “When Tony said it was the least he can do… he knew my father. And my father recently died.”

     “Oh,” Shawn’s surprise is evident. He looks at Tony, who just shrugs and begins to busy himself with cleaning up his metal tray, “I’m so sorry.” Shawn finally says.

     “Don’t be. He was a scumbag. He had what was coming to him,” her bitter words take Shawn by complete and utter surprise. Her soft voice doesn't match the meaning of her words at all, but underneath the tone holds something so much deeper than her words. And Tony doesn’t even flinch. Shawn turns his attention back to her, watching her body language. She tenses slightly, before releasing the muscles in her neck and back, slouching once more. Shawn notices how poor her posture is and he has to withstand the urge to correct her on it. Shawn’s team always emphasises the importance of good posture, for both his health and his singing.

     “But, I’ve just kind of been on edge since I found out about the death. Hence, the anxiety attack,” she explains, finally finishing the lyrics. She puts the cap back on the Sharpie, handing the paper over to Tony who examines it with a smile and gives it to Shawn. 

     He grasps the flimsy paper in between his fingers and can’t help but admire the way her words look. They’re tall and narrow and small, but perfect. Her lines are neat and it’s even.

     “It’s perfect,” Shawn smiles, looking up at her. She rolls her lips into her mouth to resist a smile, before giving in. The smile is unlike any he had seen on her this morning. The tight-lipped grins were gone. Instead, this was a full, pearly white teeth smile that made Shawn smile even wider. It was contagious.

     “Good,” she confirms, the smiling dimming lightly as worry flashes in her eyes, “Are you sure you don’t want me to do another one? I’d be more than happy-”

     “-No. It’s perfect…” Shawn confirms, trailing off. He realises he doesn’t know her name.

     She catches his drift, “Astraea.”

     “Astraea,” he repeats.

     “It’s star in Greek,” she explains.

     “That’s beautiful. Truly,” he smiles, handing over the paper to Tony so he can trace the words onto transfer paper. Shawn’s eyebrows crease, looking at the exposed spot on his thigh, wondering how much it’s gonna hurt.

     The thought doesn’t last for long though, “Anything you care to listen to?” Astraea asks in her melodious tone, looking down at her massive phone in her tiny hand. Shawn bites his lip, holding back a chuckle at how adorable it is.

     “No, you can choose.”

     She raises her eyebrow slightly, biting back a smile before looking down at her phone.

     “Hope you like screamo,” Tony mutters, finishing the transfer paper sketches.

     “Hey, it is not screamo,” she protests, giggling slightly. Shawn melts in his seat.

     “Post-hardcore, whatever,” Tony corrects himself, shaking his head and motioning Shawn to lean back fully in the chair and relax. Shawn complies, watching as Tony cleans the spot with rubbing alcohol and water, before shaving off the hair standing in the way of the tattoo. When the area is sterile and clean, Tony carefully manoeuvres the transfer paper onto Shawn’s skin. He presses it down and Shawn’s watching his every move. He can’t help but admire how gorgeous the placement is and the way the words look against his skin. Any anxiety he had earlier about making such an impulse decision is released and he loves his tattoo already. 

     When the music comes on this time, Shawn’s expecting it. And he listens to it intently. Regardless of it not being his cup of tea, he’s always trying to better himself as a musician and that comes with listening to music he may not be particularly fond of. He picks out certain things he likes about the particular song: the smooth melody of the chorus, the filter over the singer’s voice in certain parts… and he begins to bop his head along.

     And Astraea doesn’t normally care if people don’t like her music, but a certain sense of satisfaction fills her tummy when she sees Shawn getting into it. The way he bops his head and bites at his lip when he’s listening intently. He doesn’t even notice that Tony’s getting ready to start the tattoo. However, when the needle switches on, Shawn jumps in his seat. Shawn looks at Astraea with a certain vehemence in his eyes. He’s seeking comfort and she gives him a reassuring nod, though it doesn’t seem to satisfy him.

     “Can you… can you hold my hand?” He asks softly and she nods slowly. She shuffles her seat next to Shawn’s. She experimentally reaches her hand out to his and he wastes no time scooping her fingers up between his and squeezing. Their fingers lace together and Shawn gives her a reassuring squeeze, to which she responds with a squeeze of her own. Her cheeks heat up at the small gesture and her chest begins to swell with a mix of emotions that are both positive and negative.

     “It’ll be done before you know it, and it’ll be worth it,” Astraea smiles at him. It’s another genuine smile and Shawn can’t help but smile, even when the needle pushes into his skin. The energy behind her smile is pure and contagious and he loves the way it makes his head go light. Not a care in the world. Until he finally recognises the familiar sting of the tattoo needle. It’s not bad at first, but then when it gets bad, it gets horrible. Astraea watches as the smile gradually fades from his face and bites her bottom lip, her face gradually shifting with his. Her eyebrows furrow into a position of worry, her smile becoming more of a grimace as she watches his mouth make an ‘o’ before he says,

     “Oh, fuck… oh, my, god,” he’s punctuating his words, pinching his eyes shut at the searing pain of the needle puncturing his skin. His grip on her tiny hand grows a little tighter. She looks away from his face and at the tattoo being engraved in his skin. She admits, it’s a really great idea, and it looks even better. She scarcely pays attention to Tony, who’s glance is flickering up to her to make sure she’s still okay with the tattoo. But, judging by the look gracing her features, she’s okay.

     “Hey, you’re nearly done with the first three words,” she notices, trying to distract Shawn. He focuses in on her voice, it’s quiet and smooth with a little bit of rasp and the perfect middle tone and it sounds like music to him. He opens his eyes and looks at her, who’s not even looking at his face, but at the new tattoo being traced out delicately, in her handwriting. ‘Out of my control, push and pull and then it's grabbing me - feel it in my bones.’ 

     When she looks up at him, she’s expecting his head to be tilted back against the seat, his face pulled into a grimace. But instead, he’s looking at her. His fluffy hair has fully fallen onto his forehead, his curls sort of frizzy and one sticking to his skin from his sweat. She nods reassuringly, squeezing his hand. Shawn notices how tightly he’s gripping onto her hand and goes to lax his grip, but she shakes her head at him.

     “It’s fine. Swear,” she says. She takes her available hand and grabs the now cold coffee on the countertop and sips at it. She’s still exhausted and she can’t imagine how Shawn feels, his coffee from earlier in the bin rather than his stomach. And whilst her mind is occupied with him, he watches with her intrigue. Her demeanour is so interesting. 

     Astraea is reserved. She’s shy and her voice is quiet, but based on her tattoo choices, she has a lot to say. She knows what to say and when to say it, but in an unexpected way. Shawn thinks that what she has to say is always shared with people who are close to her; who know her quirks and the stories behind all of those scars and know why her father was a scumbag. Shawn rolls his lips into his mouth, thinking to himself, She’s really gorgeous. And she’s puzzling. And he wants to get to know her. But he remembers, she’s a fan.

An internal debate begins. Anyone he dates has to like his music. Check. Anyone he dates has to act like he’s normal. He quickly wonders if her shyness is because of him, but his mind returns with Tony’s comments towards her and how she reacted. Still shy, but surer of herself. Check. But, what if she’s a fan who knew he would be here and plotted it? What if he’s already met her and she followed him or mobbed him? What if she stalks him? What if-

     His gut is telling him to trust her. Trust her the way she trusted you to hold your hand when she was getting her tattoo. The way she looked scared that you were playing a prank on her, but gave in. Give in, Shawn. Trust someone. And when Shawn returns from the journey in his mind, he realises he’s still watching her. And he thinks she notices. But she’s too demure to say anything. There’s a rosiness to her cheeks makes him want to caress the way he did earlier when she was panicking. And she’s fidgeting with her seat again with the hand that wasn’t holding his. 

     He likes her demeanour. A lot. He likes the calmness and quietness of her presence, even if the anxiety juxtaposes her calm nature. He likes the way she carries herself, even in her bad posture, she seems to sit with purpose. Quiet purpose. And god, he’s so fascinated by her.

     He wants to get underneath her exterior and see her interior, because if her outer appearance is even a fraction of what she looks like on the inside, Shawn would collapse in on himself.

     She notices he’s so wrapped up in his thoughts that he doesn’t even pay attention to the needle moving against his skin. Astraea lets him think. She can tell they’re good thoughts based on his body language and his relaxed jaw. She doesn’t miss the way his eyes glaze over as he wanders away in his mind and she also doesn’t miss the way his glance is trained on her. She wonders, what she considers to be foolish, if he’s thinking about her. Because she’s thinking about him.

     Sure, he was a popstar. But the normality of his entrance, his clumsiness of spilling his coffee at the shock of her music, his worried nature as he cleaned up his mess - was anything but popstar. His immediate willingness to hold her hand and make sure she was okay when she started feeling dizzy at his presence screamed anything but popstar. And the way he held her hand and cheek, bringing her away from that dark corner of her mind that seemed to take up all of her thoughts is imprinted in her mind for the rest of her life. This gorgeous boy with his gorgeous smile and endearing clumsiness and habit of using nicknames is so much more than a popstar. Even as a writing intern, she couldn’t find the words to describe him the way she wanted to. Speechless. Or wordless.

     Her attraction to him is undeniable, but she hides that thought away in a very remote part of her mind. He would never ask her out. He has dated models and been linked to singers and she was just an intern who liked tattoos. And she by far did not have enough confidence around someone she just met to ask him out. Or his number, to check on his tattoo healing process, she thinks she would say to him. Idiot, that’s fucking miserable. True, she agrees with herself.

     By the time they both snap out of their trances, they realise their gazes are on one another and Shawn just smiles, making the heat in her cheeks spread to her ears and they burn.

     Shawn finds it endearing. And by the time the pain of the needle resonates with him again, the tattoo is done. And so may be his time with her. And he tries to accept it. But something in his heart is nagging him, urging him to not accept it and do something about it.

     “Done,” Tony says plainly, cleaning the tattoo. Shawn looks down at it and his nagging heart is replaced with a full heart at how beautiful the tattoo is - it’s simple and so open to interpretation and so perfect.

     “It looks amazing,” Shawn and Astraea say together. Shawn laughs at the cohesion and she simply smiles, looking down at the ground. Tony stands from his seat, carefully placing the Saniderm over the raw skin and retreating to the receptionist desk to grab the coffee Shawn had brought him ages ago before starting the original tattoo Shawn came for. Shawn stands too, reaching behind Astraea to grab his joggers slung over the back of the chair. Their proximity makes her stomach bubble and the warm smile he gives her sends her over the edge, her tummy erupting with swarms of butterflies. She tries her best to keep her emotions at bay, but they're overwhelming. So she can't help the warm smile she returns instead of shying away.

     “Thank you,” he says, stumbling around as he puts on his joggers and tying the knot and she can’t help but watch the way his fingers move, “For the tattoo. It looks amazing- wait!”

     His abrupt exclamation startles them both, “We need to get a picture together! Of the matching tattoos!”

     “You think they’re matching?” She says inaudibly, biting back a smile that would split her whole face open. Coordinating, sure. A synonym for matching, but not quite as cohesive. But here Shawn is, believing the tattoos are matching. And he slowly nods and grins, looking at her.

     So, “Drop trow’,” she jokes and she rolls her lips in at what she just said. But, Shawn notices that it seems to be the first truly comfortable thing she’s said to him all morning. He laughs and he obliges before he moves to stand next to her. He’s truly taller than her. At least a foot. Her head doesn’t even reach his shoulders. Her tan skin contrasts to his pale thighs, but it’s a contrast that looks like art to him. He admires the small stretch marks on her hips and inner thighs which he can barely see, but still admires anyway.

     “Tony,” she calls. Over the music still playing, she can’t hear him approaching. Tony doesn’t even need instruction when Shawn hands them the phone and they arrange themselves to have the picture taken. In the shuffle, their bare skin touches and they simultaneously shiver, goosebumps rising along their thighs at the intimate skin brushing along the others. Neither of them says anything to the other, afraid that they were going crazy and that the other didn’t feel the same fluttering in their own chests at the touch. 

Her spandex rests right above the tattoo, not needing to be moved. Shawn however, adjusts his briefs so the hem is resting above the Saniderm. Both have their tattoos wrapped, but they’re visible. Tony wordlessly snaps a few pictures up close, then stepping back and capturing the look on their faces. Astraea looks flustered yet happy, her hair that’s down and frizzy around her shoulders adding the perfect element to the facial expression and Shawn is sparkling, his pearly white teeth beaming down at her. And when Astraea looks up at Shawn, Tony makes sure he gets that picture of them. Because he knows they'll want that intimate moment captured for the future. And in that way, Tony knows something will come from this. He’s always right about this kind of thing. 

#my writing #shawn mendes #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes smut #smtt

[xxrainbow-princessxx]

Know Your Worth - Isabella x Drake

A quick little story with an unlikely pairing. Sometimes friendship can mean more than anything else. - tagging a few friends who I think may like this. It might be a little rusty after a year of no writing lol! @drakewalkerfantasy @the-everlasting-dream @cora-nova ❤️

[[More]]

Isabella slammed shut her laptop, sighing heavily as the Cordonian press announced the beginning of Leo‘s Social Season. She could feel her stomach drop as she read the headlines that the Crown Prince would have to make his decision at the year long event to choose his future wife and Queen - even the bookies had the known eligible noble ladies ranked for the country to bet on who would be their next Queen. “Ugh...” she groaned, “I could do with a drink...” Whilst calling for a car, Isabella picked up her black leather coat, scarf and matching baker boy hat asking the driver to take her to a quiet bar in Cordonia. Isabella needed something to take her mind off of what was happening. The driver drove through the streets of the Capitol, going further downtown than Isabella had exploded before pulling up in front of an old tavern styled bar. He looked back into the mirror as he caught her gaze, “Hey sweetheart, are you...” Isabella nodded quietly towards him, politely paying his fare, “Yes, thank you...” before tipping him appropriately she opened the car door.

As soon as the heels of her black knee high boots touched the pavement, the bouncer at the door straightened up. His broad frame was intimidating as he groaned, “ID please...” and Isabella reached into her purse to give him her college ID. The bouncer scanned it before passing it back to her, “No college ID’s... passport and driver’s licence only!” Isabella didn’t ever bring her official documents with her just in case. She looked at the bouncer puzzled, “... but why?...” his mood did not change as he tapped the sign behind him, “Management rules!” causing Isabella to frown. Her brow knitted together as she became more frustrated, “What if you don’t have a passport? That’s hardly fair?” The bouncer was starting to get weary of her questions, standing over the door, “Miss... if you don’t have the right...” Isabella’s accent always became a lot stronger as she got worked up as she shouted back “fine!”

She felt someone push passed her, almost knocking her over in her stiletto boots barking back, “Watch it!” The male in the long woollen dark grey coat turned towards her as he ran his fingers through his dark hair. His eyes narrowed slightly as he gazed upon the petite brunette barely recognising her, “Bella is that?...” Isabella’s chocolate and honey speckled eyes lit up as she smiled warmly, “Hey Walker...” Drake nodded towards the bouncer as he glanced back at Isabella, “Hey Theo... it’s alright she’s with me...” Theo nodded in reply, moving to the side to allow Isabella to enter. As Drake took off his coat, he found a booth for them to talk away from the few patrons already there. As Isabella looked around, familiarising herself with the surroundings, brow raised as he began to question her, “What the hell are you doing in a place like this?”

Isabella didn’t answer his question as she rummaged through her handbag taking out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. She tapped the packet off of the table, taking one into her mouth and lighting it. Upon taking a drag she passed them across to Drake, enjoying those first few puffs that calmed her nerves but Drake was persistent, “Y’know it’s not safe you...” tapping her cigarette into the tray, Isabella snarled, “I’m not a fucking moron nor a china doll, so don’t treat me like one!” Drake shrugged his shoulders as his attention turned to the bar raising his index and middle finger to order. Isabella’s mouth twisted to the left as she studied Drake’s expression; he seemed troubled. “I could ask you the same thing Walker... could you not be in College?”

Drake grunted as the bottle of whiskey was set down in front of him along with two glasses. As he slid the glass down towards the petite brunette, Drake mumbled, “You’re being a right Royal pain in the ass right now...” pouring two fingers of whiskey into each glass, Drake’s cheek twitched holding back a smirk, “Think you can handle this?” Isabella’s eyes flared towards him, those little honey flicks flickered in the light as she blinked. She swiped the glass from under her nose and threw it back. This is what she came here for. She closed her eyes as the warm liquid burned her throat tasting the smokiness and cinnamon aftertaste before setting the glass back on the table with a ‘clink’. Drake followed suit, pouring each other another drink until he cleared his throat, “So are you gonna tell me why I find you trying to get into an old dive bar and not some exclusive club exercising that Royal title of yours?”

Isabella rolled her eyes as she clicking her tongue in the process, “Sometimes Drake... you just want to be free... do what you want, when you want with no one barking orders at you...” she began to sigh, “... and I figured a place like this isn’t going to care that Leo’s social season has begun, so I don’t have to hear about it everywhere I go...” Drake nodded, “I hear ya...” Drake knew exactly where she was coming from and didn’t want to push any further. The Leo/Isabella set up was going to hurt someone and Drake always knew, it would hurt Isabella more than Leo. As long as his dick was wet, he didn’t care. Isabella watched as he picked up his glass, swirling the golden yellow laid around, almost staring into it - getting lost momentarily before he downed it in one go. Drake was troubled, Isabella could sense the tension he held in his shoulders. He was stiff and looked tired; obviously the trip back from the States was catching up with him.

Isabella tucked her hair behind her left ear as she politely smiled, “You know you aren’t going to find an answer at the bottom of that glass... I know Liam is finding it tough...” her eyes softened as she looked directly at Drake, “Is that why you’re home?” Drakes began to laugh, “Is it that obvious huh?” Isabella took another drag of her cigarette as she nodded, “... Just a little...” Drake reached out grabbing the cigarettes and clipper, lighting up and watching him this turn, Isabella resaved across the table, placing her hand on his, “He’ll be ok Drake...” he felt her warmth as her thumb caressed the top of his hand bringing a barely there smile to his face, “Thanks... but...” as Drake sighed, Isabella moved her hand away, “College was a good run... but I’m back now so it should get better...” Isabella began to nod as she took the bottle of whiskey and filled their glasses once more.

As the evening moved forward, the pair began to laugh and joke whilst drowning their sorrows in alcohol- bonding over childhood memories. Drake sniggered as he remembered one summer that Isabella stayed with Maxwell and Bertrand. “Do you remember the time you walked up and punched Beaumont in the face because he wouldn’t let you play polo because you were a girl?” Drake began to laugh louder, “That was a beautiful day!” They talked about Drake’s football scholarship and discussing the upcoming World Cup fixtures. Isabella lifted her glass giggling, “Papa tried to buy Maradona... even made him an honorary citizenship to play for Laurentia... but FIFA wasn’t too happy and blocked it... papa never recovered from the rejection - it was worse than a breakup! In my country, football is even more important than religion!” And by the end of the evening... both of them just a little more tipsy than they should have been - Drake and Isabella felt a lot better than they had a few hours before hand. It was fate that brought them together and there and then - they needed each other.

A weight had been temporarily lifted from their shoulders as the pair walked arm and arm back through the Cordonian capitol towards Isabella’s townhouse. Drake insisted he walk her home and the both of them giggled and laughed together as they stumbled towards her front door. They were comfortable with each other and for once - the normality of it all, albeit simple was all they needed. Isabella’s bright beaming smile began to paint across her face as she looked up towards Drake with those kohl lined eyes of hers. She began to see him in a completely different light; his broad shoulders, messy dark chestnut hair and those eyes... those intense dark hazelnut brown eyes would make anyone melt and behind them was a gentle softness that very few would have the pleasure to experience. Her accent slowly rolled off her tongue as her nose scrunched a little whilst she laughed, “I’m really glad I bumped into you tonight...” Drake awkwardly ran his fingers through his hair as his gaze never left the Laurentian Princess.

Normally he wouldn’t have had a chance, he wasn’t a Prince, he had nothing to offer her but as the petite brunette stood in front of him biting down on her lip and with a little liquid courage - Drake leaned down placing his hands on either side of her face placing a kiss upon her supple, soft lips. He felt Isabella smile against him as her arms wrapped around his neck until he took a step back. Drake watched as her long eyes lashes fluttered wondering why he stopped and Drake realised what had happened. Getting angry with himself, he gritted his teeth, “Shit... sorry! I shouldn’t have...Fuck...” Isabella sighed, her smile never faltering as she rubbed his arm, “Hey... it’s ok... I get it...” before she kissed his cheek gently. “I gotta...” she walked back towards the door as Drake stood there, hands shoved into his jean pockets. Isabella looked over her shoulder as he still stood there waiting, making sure she got home safe. she couldn’t help but grin warmly towards him quietly cooing, “Thank you...” before closing the door behind her.

A few weeks had passed and Isabella had returned home from Cordonia. After some deliberation, she decided to send Drake a little present as a ‘no hard feelings’ truce. As Bastien handed Drake the letter, he opened it and enclosed were two tickets to the World Cup held in Germany that summer. His brow raised as he questioned the tickets, “How the?!” The tickets weren’t due for release for a few months until he removed the letter which explained everything.

‘Drake,

I hope that everything is starting to get back to normal. I’ve been able to get you some tickets to the next World Cup in Germany for the first game- America v Spain. I hope that they are to your satisfaction - I thought for once you might enjoy a relatively normal seat amongst the crowd. Sorry that I cannot agree with your preference in team, but I will be happy knowing that you will enjoy this present as a thank you for being so kind to me over the years. Your loyalty is remarkable and your selflessness admirable but you deserve your own happiness! I truly hope you do find what truly makes you happy. You’re a great guy and any girl would be lucky to be with you... next time, don’t let her walk away! Always remember that your worth is measured in how you present yourself, not by the life you were born into.

All my love

Isabella’

Drake hid that letter for years - either he nor Isabella ever mentioned it ever to anyone. The letter never saw the day of light until one night after spending time with Riley, Drake’s conscious was torn. How could he love the woman that his best friend had fallen for again. Rummaging through a set of documents, Drake found the partially torn letter and the stubs from the World Cup he attended, reading through it once more. If someone like her could see him for who he truly was - maybe Riley could too and he could have that life he truly wanted and for once felt like he deserved.

#choices #trr fic #trr drake #drake x isabella #the royal romance #trr

[bbyboybrock--archived]

Serendipity (C.B) | Chapter 8

Summary: Serendipity: (n) the chance occurrence of events in a beneficial way

Popular youtuber Isabella Hart, known as Bella to her audience, bends over backwards to separate her youtube life from her private life. Known for her overall clean content and her bubbly attitude, Isabella has a wild side to her that only those inside the youtube community know about. When Bella meets Colby during one of the trap house parties she finally meets someone she can be her genuine self with. When trouble arises after their meeting, will Bella be able to hand the pressure or will she destroy her relationship with Colby as well as herself in the process. [This starts in 2018]

Written: 2019

Word Count: 3,216

Warnings: swearing, mention of sexual abuse

(I  put a **trigger warning** right before the triggering part of the chapter and **trigger warning over** at the end of that part so you can read around it)

Serendipity Masterlist

"Colby, just drop it okay." I finish chopping the potatoes for our lunch and place them in a bowl.

"But Isabella, it's—"

"I don't want to talk about it; not now, not ever. End of discussion. Now either help me cook our lunch or get out of my kitchen." Colby sighs before leaving. It's probably better for him to not be around me while I'm holding a knife.

Colby came over to my apartment so we can have a lunch date. I had Colby setting up the living room when my phone went off. He picked it up to bring to me when he saw a message from my mom asking if I would have dinner with her and my brothers. When he brought it up I immediately shot it down which sparked the current argument. In our five months of dating, I haven't talked about my family, and frankly, I don't want to. Thinking about it now, I feel bad. Colby and his family are close and he doesn't understand my family problems because I haven't told him. Whenever he asks I just give vague answers.

I sigh and dry my hands on my apron before walking into the living room where Colby is still setting up. He's busy fixing blankets around my couches, which he pushed together, to notice that I walked in.

"Look, I'm sorry for snapping. Things with my family are complicated and it's better if I don't go." Colby stops and turns around.

"Well, what if I went with you?" I stare at Colby for a second. I never wanted to Colby to meet my parents. Not because I'm ashamed of him, but because I'm ashamed of them and I don't want him to know how messed up I really am.

"I'll talk to my mom and I'll think about it. But I don't think it's a good idea."

"If it's as bad as you think it'll be then we can bail. I'll fake a medical emergency." Colby fakes a heart attack and falls backward in the couch bed he made. I roll my eyes and open my phone to the message my mom sent me.

"Calm down before you actually hurt yourself. Come help me in the kitchen when you're done in here." I respond to my mom asking for more details before walking back to finished cooking. While I work on the burgers and fries I instruct Colby to make the milkshakes. Eventually, I stopped him before he poured too much milk and made him wash the dishes and set out the special trays.

"Did you go out and buy these cups and trays to make it look like we were actually eating at a diner?" Colby asks as he puts together his burger.

"Of course, I did it because I'm extra and for the aesthetic. You should have known what you were getting into when you asked me to be your girlfriend." I put the pot and pan in the sink and go plate out food.

"Is it too late to take that back?" I fake gasp and smack Colby's arm.

"I'm kidding!" He yells as he picks up our food and takes it to the living room. I pick up our shakes and follow him.

"We're going on Friday by the way." I don't let Colby respond and press play on the movie he chose.

****

Maybe this was a bad idea. Right now I'm sat in the passenger seat of my own car, staring at the house I grew up in. I haven't been here since I ran away last year. I feel like I'm asleep, unable to move and the house is a sleep paralysis demon waiting to swallow me up. I talked to my mother and she told me that it was safe. That it would only be her and my brothers. That she and my father separated a few months ago and in the process of divorce. That she wanted to apologize in person and rebuild our relationship. Despite those reassurances, part of me is still terrified to go back.

I asked Colby to drive because I'm too nervous to get behind the wheel. I told him that we were using my car because I didn't want to trust his car as an escape method. With my luck, his car would break down when I needed to leave.

I eventually muster up the courage to get out of the car. My heart pounds as Colby and I stand at the front door waiting for someone to open it. The door opens to reveal one of my brothers.

"Benji, hey, it's so good to see you! Benji, this is my boyfriend, Colby Brock. Colby, this is my second oldest brother, Benjamin." Colby and Benji shake hands and introduce themselves to each other. I walk further into the house and run into my oldest brother.

"Hey Joey, meet Colby. Colbs, meet the oldest of all three Hart kids." I let Joey and Colby introduce themselves and I go to give Benji a hug. In all honesty, Benji is the only person I missed in the whole family, besides my grandmother. I look around the house and not much has changed. All the pictures that had my father are gone.

"Mom is in the kitchen cooking." He tells me. I nod and grab Colby's hand and lead him to the kitchen.

We get to the kitchen and I look at my mother as she prepares what smells like her famous spaghetti. I can't help but have a small smile. It's almost like walking into the past. She stops cooking and turns around and sees me. She smiles big and engulfs me in a hug. I awkwardly hug her back. All of this feels foreign; mom cooking happily in the kitchen and her giving me affection. The last time any of that happened was when I was 14.

"Hi mom, this is Colby. Colby, meet my mother." I managed to wiggle out of her grip. Colby goes in for a handshake but my mother traps him in a hug as well.

"Nice to meet you Mrs. Hart, you have a lovely home." She lets go of Colby and looks him up and down with a grin.

"You found yourself a good one. Nice to meet you too. Both of you should go sit in the living room. I'll be there in a second." She pushes us out of the kitchen and back into the living room where my brothers are talking. Colby and I join them on the couch.

"So Joey, where's Danielle?" I ask to make conversation.

"She at our firm working on a career-changing case that I had to miss out on because mom insisted that I was her for the prodigal daughter's return feast." He has on the same 'you ruined my life' look that he's had on his face probably since the day he found out he was going to have a little sister.

"Hey, maybe when Benji is done with medical school you can have him surgically remove the stick that is wedged so far up your ass?"

"Isabella..."

"Joseph..."

"So, Colby, what do you do?" Benji quickly changes the conversation. If I didn't know any better I would think that Benji is the oldest.

"Same as Isabella, I make youtube videos for a living. I have a duo channel with my best friend from Kansas where we do a lot of exploration videos and haunted videos. On my main channel, I post more a bunch of random things." I like seeing the twinkle in Colby's eye when he talks about his job.

The conversation keeps going on between the four of us as my mom brings out a tray with drinks and appetizers. She sets them down on the coffee table and joins us.

"Isabella, what are you doing now?" My mother asks.

"Well, like Colby said earlier, I'm still making videos. I travel quite a bit for work. But I'm mostly in school right now. I'm double majoring in English and business management and triple minoring in finance, dance, and music. I have scholarships and grants that pay for most of my tuition. I cover the rest with my youtube and art money. I have my own little side business where I sell my art as well." I kind of wanted to show my mom how well I'm doing without her. To brag that I'm fine on my own.

"She's always busy, we had to work in time for us to spend time together in our schedules," Colby adds. He intertwined his fingers in mine.

"Colby is always traveling for work and is equally as busy. Half of our dates are just us working in the same room together when we can. Perks of working in the same industry as the person you're seeing. You get it, right Joey?" Joey just nods and sips his drink.

We have a conversation for a little bit longer before my mother disappeared into the kitchen. I follow her in to help. Colby seems to be getting along just fine with my brothers.

I help my mom prepare the salad and placing the food into fancy serving dishes. We work together in silence like old times.

"Isabella, I just wanted to apologize for how I treated you all those years. I should have listened and believed you. I chose my husband over my children and I treated you poorly because of it. I was wondering if we could start over?" I stop pouring the meat sauce into the bowl and scan my mom's face. Part of me doesn't trust her. Another part of me wants to.

"We can try, but it's going to take a while for things to feel normal to me." I finish pouring the meat sauce and put the dirty dishes in the sink.

"I'm happy to hear that. Why don't you go wash up and I'll have the boys help me set the table." I nod my head and walk upstairs to the bathroom. I could use the one downstairs but I want to see my old room.

I quickly wash my hands and go to the end of the hallway where my room was. I open the door to find it almost exactly how I left it. The walls are still pink with purple butterflies. When I moved out I took all of my clothes and everything of importance. I took all my old art and pictures and put them in the box. To be honest, the only things I left were my furniture and the tv. I took off all the bedding and folded it nicely on my bed with a note explaining why I left. The bed is made with my old bedding. My dresser has little broken things that I didn't even bother consider taking. My closet is empty except for the stuffed animals that I couldn't take with me. I find my old beat up Piglet plushie. It's not even bright pink anymore. He's faded and dirty. You can see all the places where my mom had to repair him.

"You used to take that thing everywhere you went." My blood freezes at the sound of the voice. Hearing that voice, in this room especially, after so long still scares me. I don't want to turn around but I do anyway.

"D-dad? What are you..." Tears well up in my eyes when I see his face. It takes me a second to register what is going on.

"Did you miss me? I missed you, princess." He walks closer and strokes my cheek with the back of his hand. I drop Piglet and push his hand away. I run past him and head straight downstairs.

"Colby, we're leaving!" I grab my jacket and bag from the couch.

"Why, what happened?" Colby comes out of the dining room and grabs his jacket questioningly. I told him earlier that when I said we're leaving, we're leaving.

"I'll talk about it later, but I can't be in this house anymore." Colby studies my face and grabs my hand.

"What's going on?" My mom comes out of the dining room and innocently looks at Colby and I. It makes me sick.

I keep my distance and look at my mom in the eyes.

"I should be asking you that. You lied. You said that he wasn't here, but I ran into him upstairs. Why did you lie? Why have this whole charade?" My fists are balled up in anger but I keep looking back at the stairs in terror.

"I knew you wouldn't come unless I told you he was out of the house."

"So you lied? Why? Why did you want me to come over?"

She uncomfortably looks around the room. She looks at anything that isn't me. Finally, her wandering eyes land on me. They're as cold and heartless as I remember. This is the versos of my mom that I remember. The version she has been since I was 14.

"We're struggling a bit financially. Your brothers are helping out a bit but it's not enough. I was going to ask you for money." She doesn't break her eye contact with me.

"Un-fucking-believable. I would help you, but after everything, I can't. Let's go Colby." Colby and I walk back to my car and leave.

****

Except for the music, the ride is quiet. Colby doesn't push for details, he lets me be alone with my thoughts and I'm thankful for that. I stare out the window so Colby doesn't see me crying, but I know that he knows I am. He holds my hands as he drives, only letting go when he needs both hands but immediately puts it back when he's done. I watch as all the familiar buildings that I grew up around pass me by in a blur like they did the day I left.

Colby stops the car in a Panera Bread parking lot. I know Panera isn't Colby's favorite place in the world, it's mine. But I think he brought me here to try to cheer me up. I don't think this a problem that Panera can fix. But I sit up and clean my face before joining Colby. When we get inside Colby orders our food, I get the same thing every time we eat here so he knows my order by heart. When I was messing around on his phone a few days ago I found a little notes file that had what I get from every place we eat at. He's too good to me. Who am I kidding? He's too good for me.

Colby finds us a little table away from everyone and leaves me alone to get your drinks. I stopped crying but every inch of me wants to. Colby comes back and places a lemonade in front of me. He holds my hand but doesn't force me to talk.

"I'm sorry for pushing you to go to your mom's house. I didn't know how bad it was." Colby says.

"It's not your fault my parents are horrible people. I should have known my mom wouldn't change. I'm sorry for dragging you into the family drama."

"You know what? Forget your family. I'm your family now. And the trap house too."

"You can't date me and be my family. That's a bit like incest in a way."

"Well, I am from Kansas." I can't help but laugh at Colby's joke.

"Ah, there it is. There's the smile I know and love." Colby smiles at me and makes me blush.

"Okay you dork, I get it." I like him so much it hurts.

"Do you want to talk about it? You don't have to if you don't want to." I look down for a second. I've never told anyone this. If I tell Colby, that could change things.

**TRIGGER WARNING**

"No, it's fine. I should talk about it. I just won't go too into details. For as long as I could remember, my dad would... do things to me and make me return the favor. It's got significantly worse when I hit puberty. He would always tell me that nobody would believe me and that if I told my brothers and I would get taken away and things would be worse for all three of us. I believed him so I kept quiet about it. Until I was 14, two years after things escalated. I told my mom but she didn't believe me. She got the entire family to turn against me. My mom accused me of lying to ruin our family's reputation. I was treated like a pariah at family gatherings. I would just stay in my room or go out. My grandmother, bless her heart, believed me but she was too old to take me in or do anything to stop it. So when she died she left me all of her money. Which made everyone on my mom's side of the family hate me more. Everything she had was given to me and if it could be sold she arranged for that to happen and the money given to me. The only thing was that I had to be 18. I knew that I had to get out of that house. So when I turned 16 I got as many part-time jobs as I could while getting paid a little bit from youtube. I save up to move out and on the morning of my 18th birthday, I left. I hadn't been back until today."

**TRIGGER WARNING OVER**

"I would have never guessed..."

"Yeah. That would also explain the whole party girl slut thing I have going for me. That started when I was 16 and first started getting popular on YouTube. It was a distraction and a way to numb everything. I was a real train wreck before I met you. I calmed down a bit. If you had met me a few months before then this, our relationship, would probably not even be a thing. I might have just hooked up with you and severed all ties. That's how bad I was." Our conversation pauses for a moment as the server brings our food.

"That's a lot of heavy shit that you kept bottled up. I understand why you didn't tell me before. Just so you know, none of what you just told me is going to change the way I feel about you. What happened to you doesn't make you a horrible person. You didn't deserve it and they deserve all the bad karma that they're going to get. You know what? You amaze me. Even when you were in that shitty situation you managed to spread nothing but positivity on your channel."

"Don't worry, there are a lot of depressing journal entries that disprove that statement. Anyway, now you know everything that you need to know about me." Colby places his hand on mine.

"I'm glad you're feeling comfortable enough to open up to me."

And like that, everything in our world was fine again. In fact, things were even better. Not just with Colby but every aspect of my life was improved. I wasn't carrying the unnecessary weight of my family drama on my shoulders anymore.

#colby #colby fanfic #colby fan fic #colby fan fiction #colby fanfiction #colby brock #colby brock fanfic #colby brock fan fic #colby brock fan fiction #colby brock fanfiction

[lucifer-lacroix]

Strawberry Chapter 4

RDR2 Arthur Morgan x OC

Lemon

Romance

For other chapters Click HERE

Arthur Morgan laid half naked on his back on a plush queen-sized bed draped with bear fur and dark brown wool blankets. The scantily clad blonde known as Rosalyn Bush straddling his waist with her hands petting his hairy chest. The dim light of the fire making the room glow. At the door to the room, Isabella Morningstar the gunslinger in red had a disgusted look on her face as she gazed upon the two canoodling in the bed. Arthur felt his heart stop and quickly made work of shoving Rosalyn off him forcefully. She tumbled onto the floor dropping her glass which smashed into pieces as she got buried in a mess of pillows and blankets. Arthur rolled off the bed to get to his feet to make a break for the window before Izzy would make good on her threat. "Of all the men here why did you have to go for him?" Isabella whined with a calm tone to the surprise of the naughty cowboy. "What can I say, I like him," Rosalyn said sitting up in the mess of blankets and spilt brandy. The innocent smile on her face as she held no regrets of her actions. 

"This is not what it looks like." Arthur tried to explain realising the window was locked.

"You don't get to talk," Isabella said and removed her pistol from her holster and held it pointed down to the ground. "Put that away! Besides, I have something to show you" Rosalyn ordered and stood up to dust herself off. She picked up the broken glass off the floor and tossed it into a bin. Arthur and Isabella at a standstill as Rosalyn took her time cleaning up the shattered glass. Once she cleared the floor, she walked up to the stack of trunks which she stored her belongings. They were neatly stacked and had labels on them so, Rosalyn could quickly find her target and opened a massive case where multiple handwritten labelled jars sat neatly packed and arranged. Isabella had eyes on Arthur glaring him down like a wolf ready to pounce as Rosalyn took her sweet time doing whatever she was doing. With his back to the window, he glanced briefly outside to determine what kind of fall it would be if he jumped out of it. "Well come on you two, I need some critical reviews on my new product," Rosalyn called to them and started setting up some snacks with slices of bread and cheese from the tray on the main table. Isabella silently holstered her pistol and crossed the room to sit with Rosalyn where she was setting up. Arthur confusedly stood still for the moment eyeing his gun laying on the chair near Isabella's seat. "Come on Arthur. It's my homemade jam I cooked up this week. I need a man's tongue to narrow down which one I should send to New York. My brothers don't know good food from dog food." Rosalyn beckoned him as she tried to open one of the jars. She struggled for a moment before Izzy took it from her and easily popped it open. "Thanks, babe." Rosalyn pinched her cheek and handed her the other ones to open before pouring each jam into a ramekin. "Just fucking sit down." Isabella cursed in a huff as she popped the final lid. It was becoming a clear that Rosalyn was in charge and despite Isabella's threats downstairs she was complicit to the blondes instructions whether or not she agreed with them. Arthur crossed back over the room and sat down uncomfortably in the last free chair in the room, his gun between himself and Izzy. "So, this is my new line of jams. I have Blueberry, Raspberry and Strawberry. Tony said I can only pick one to start the new launch, for now, so I have narrow it down between these three. As much as I love my orange Marmalade, I don't think it will sell." "Orange Marmalade?" Arthur asked as he studied the jams cautiously keeping his eye on Izzy who has pulled a flask from her pocket and started drinking. "Have you ever tried it?" Rosalyn asked him as Isabella helped herself to the first of the jam samples served on the bread. "No, I haven't" Arthur replied as Rosalyn scurried off back to her trunk of goodies. "Oh, you have to try it! Hold on I think I have a jar left." She said and started rummaging through the jars her back turned to them. Arthur looked back to Isabella who was munching on the toast with a rather displeased expression but eating like she hadn't seen food in days. Curious he grabbed a piece of toast with the blueberry jam on it and took a bit, immediately understanding why Izzy was overreacting on it. It was perfectly sweet but not so much so to mask the flavours of the blueberries, and it was tough to determine if this was the worst night or his life or the best since he was never spoiled like this before.  The two ate silently, and Izzy had refused to look at him but instead kept her glance fixated on a painting on the wall. "You know! I think I left a jar of it in the kitchen downstairs let me go get it." Rosalyn said and made off for the door. "You can't leave me alone with him." "You can't leave me alone with her." Both of them spoke up in unison. "Yes, I can, wait here and don't kill each other okay," Rosalyn said and closed the door behind her as she escaped the room.

Isabella looked to Arthur for a split second and huffed loudly. "Would you put a fucking shirt on?" She asked. "It's not what it looks like." He said again. "Oh really?" Isabella asked. "She's coming onto me." Arthur defended himself and grabbed another slice of bread this one with the raspberry jelly on it. He took a bite and quietly looked around to find where he left his shirt. He saw it under Izzy's rear as she was currently sitting on it, so he stood up and approached her cautiously not bothering to attempt for his gun. "Excuse me your sitting on it." He whispered as she glared at him for getting too close. He waited for her to hand it to him, standing in front of her he watched her eyes scan him, and he noticed the same hungry little look Rosalyn had been giving him on Izzy's face. Remembering what the Harlot had said before he took his shirt back and stepped closer to her. "So, what's this about a diary you've been writing about me in." "Excuse me! You don't get to talk to me like that." Isabella yelled and stood up from her chair. "Look I get it, I hurt you. I'm trying to apologise so why won't you listen?" He asked. Whether it was the alcohol talking or his own will didn't matter he was going to make her listen, he couldn't leave this as it was. " I don't want your apology," Izzy said and headed for the door of the room, which Arthur ran up to and blocked before she could get to it. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have taken your bag." Arthur started what would more than likely end up being a messy apology. "I'm not listening to this," Izzy said and turned her back to him and walked away again. "I shouldn't have ditched you on the boat the way I did, Dutch said you hadn't paid your share, and I was only trying to collect what you owed I shouldn't have tricked you like that,"  Arthur explained approaching her again. "What I owed? I gave Dutch half of everything I earned as he asked!" She exclaimed turning back to look at him. "What?" "Is that what he told you? That I didn't pay him? How could you assume I would be that selfish!" "I don't know what your motivations were to hold back your share." "That's because I didn't have any! I paid, and you stole the rest of it!" "I already know I shouldn't have done that, that I shouldn't have done any of it." Arthur finally caught her in the corner by the fireplace. She had her hand over her mouth shaking as she held her breath making her face go red. "Izzy... breath." He walked up cautiously to her. "I thought you loved me." Izzy's voice cracked, hugging herself refusing to turn and look at him. He knew he was going to make her cry again, but this time he wasn't going to leave her. "I do... did." He corrected himself midsentence then stopped himself wondering why he said that. Izzy turned to him, her eyes red as tears started down her face. "What did you say?" She asked. Arthur paused again, his head cloudy still he couldn't think past the ache in his chest. "I said I do." He repeated this time not correcting himself. "You do what?" She asked, and Arthur gave her a look. "You sound like Rosalyn." He said as she started to calm down a bit. "You do what?" Izzy asked again.

Arthur went quiet, this was a weird situation, and he was not in the proper mindset to handle it. Oh, what it was like to be young and in love in a relationship which was more like a tornado of passion and heartbreak.  That was a long time ago, things had changed, and he had changed, but right now, all he wanted was her. To have her in his arms again to go back to those youthful days where she loved him back. Isabella calmed herself as the redness of her cheeks faded while his silence gave her time to breath. "Why didn't you ask?" She asked. "Pardon?" "You could have asked me for anything, and I would have done it. I would have done anything for you." Izzy hugged herself trying to avoid eye contact him. "Because I am a fool." Overwhelmed by everything that had happened he approached her suddenly and kissed her passionately.  Izzy stumbled back as Arthur rushed her into a kiss and she pushed him back by his chest. His half-lidded eyes were staring intensely into hers as his smell overtook her flooding back memories into her mind. "I missed you so much." She said and this time kissed him. Arthur pinned her against the wall and kissed her again, this time feeling Izzy push back into his lips as she encircled his neck with her arms. Rosalyn didn't matter anymore, and whether or not if she came back to the room, all he wanted was to keep this moment for as long as possible. His lips locked his hers as good memories came back to him. The taste of her lips giving him flashbacks to the sandy beach where they first were together. The mix of whiskey and cigarettes coupled with the Raspberry jam on his tongue as they got lost in each other. Their heated kiss lasted for a long time until a knock came to the door. "You two decent in there?" Rosalyn asked from the door as she popped her head in seeing them against the far wall. Arthur was pinning Izzy against the wall by the wrists as her legs had found themselves hooked around his hips. "I'll come back later," Rosalyn said and closed the door once more with the most sinister of grins. "Wait!" Izzy said in a pant, but Rosalyn had already left again. There was an awkward pause between them, and Arthur was not ready to let go of her, and to his surprise, she wasn't resisting him. "So what do we do now?" Arthur asked as he loosened his grip on her wrists letting her go slowly. Izzy looked conflicted, and she delicately pushed Arthur back to give her some breathing room as she adjusted her shirt. Izzy was quiet and barely looked at him as she processed the situation. Arthur was waiting to see if Izzy would kiss him again. As she continued to avoid speaking, he moved closer to her back and grabbed the buckle of her gun belt and pulled her into him. "What are we doing?" She asked. "I don't know, all I know is I miss you," Arthur explained slowly releasing the clasp of the gun belt. "and I don't need you sticking this is my heart again." He asked to disarm her. Izzy bit her lip and grabbed his wrist stopping him. "It's not that easy. You don't do everything you did and then get forgiven over a kiss." She protested with her words but did nothing to stop him as he removed the belt from her hips. Setting her gun down on the mantle of the fireplace.   "I have a lot to apologise for." He said and picked her up in which her legs wrapped around his hips out of instinct to hold on. He cradled her in his arms walked her over to the bed to lay her down with a heavy thud. He crawled on top of her as her hands slipped around his torso and she pulled him down to kiss her again.  Complicit to his actions Izzy laid back as for the first time in a long time she let her guard down. Arthur's hands started to aggressively explore her curves, grabbing handfuls of flesh at her waist and chest. Kneading the meat of her breasts as his lips made their way down her neck. Her breath began to quicken as little gasps escaped her when he pinched the tip of her nipple. "Those sounds of yours are like music to my ears." He said into her ear as he nibbled the edge of her earlobe. "Arthur." She mewled. His heart skipped a beat at the sound of his name escaping her lips so sensually, setting his heart ablaze as he grabbed both of her thighs and propped open her legs so he could press his pelvis up into hers. He was pinning her to the bed with his erection grinding against her groin. Once their hips met a rhythm, Arthur continued to nibble down her neck as he unbuttoned her checkered shirt kissing each inch of skin revealed until he peeled it off her shoulders. Casting it aside as the bare skin of their bodies united on the bed.

Outside the door, Rosalyn sat with an open jar of Marmalade eating it with a spoon eavesdropping with her ear by the keyhole. Inside she could hear their moans and whispers before the bed started to creak aggressively. Isabella's voice high pitched and getting louder and louder as Arthur's growled in a low baritone. Finally, hearing enough she got up from the floor and dusted herself off. "That's... hot." She said and closed the half-eaten jar and pulled a key from her pocket. It was the key to the last empty room in the hotel, and with Izzy's bags sitting at the door, Rosalyn picked them up and headed to the hotel room which was supposed to be where the Devil in Red would crash for the night. Once inside she put Izzy's thing away and climbed into the bed to go to sleep for the evening. Completely okay with the fact Arthur and Izzy would occupy her room. A little sad she wasn't involved with the party but happy to see Izzy, after so long finally got to enjoy herself.

Back in the Luxury hotel toom Arthur and Izzy laid in a mess of blankets, candy wrappers, cigar ash and smeared Strawberry jam. Isabella was on her back while smoking a cigarette as Arthur had passed out with his arms around her and his head on her shoulder. In her exhausted bliss, she ran her fingers over and over again through his blonde hair. "What am I going to do with you." She asked herself out loud as the volume of his snoring proved he was deeply asleep.

(Author's Note: Thank you so much, everyone, for reading, this is the first romance I have written for such a large audience, and your comments and reviews are very much appreciated! I apologise for my bad grammar as I am trying to get better but having those reading disabilities makes it tough! Please go back and reread my [revious chapters as I have gone through and done extensive edits to try and help it read smoothly. Thank you so much again and enjoy.)

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #lemon #fanfiction #writing #fanservice

[yoiotdfics]

Fic Rec List July 2017

R & R (Risk and Ruination)

fishingclocks

Summary:

On the floor by Yuuri’s bed, there is a forlorn little beep, as Yuuri receives his fifteenth unanswered notification of the morning.

One of them from his fiance.

One of them reading ‘YUURI!! TAKE THE DAY OFF!!! YOU’VE BEEN WORKING HARD AND I LOVE YOU BYE’ followed by a copious amount of varying heart emojis.

Going ignored, the screen goes dark.

Of Office Blunders

BunniesofDoom

Summary:

Yuuri accidentally sends a picture to his boss that he really shouldn’t have sent. AU.

“OOC MY ASS!”

preciousbunnynoiz

Summary:

Yuuri secretly writes fanfiction, including Victor Nikiforov/Katsuki Yuuri fanfiction and some asshole keeps telling him he writes too OOC.

Yuuri hates him so much

I’m Pretty Much Fucked

monstersinthecosmos

Summary:

Quick drabble about getting ready to have company over. :)

If you can’t take the heat…

mtothedestiel

Summary:

Stay tuned, coming up next it’s Top Chef: International! Join thirteen chefs from around the globe as they battle it out for glory and prizes in the one and only New York City (and share all their innermost thoughts along the way!) Who will emerge victorious, and who will burn out?? Heartwarming triumphs, devastating eliminations, and even ~forbidden romance~ are all coming your way on this showstopping season of Top Chef!

To Worship and Be Worshipped

Unforth

Summary:

Tumblr ficlet written to the prompt: Yuuri as god/deity of some sort and Victor as a completely besotted worshipper

Déjà Vu

KasumiChou

Summary:

“Are you planning to sleep all day?”

A voice questioned with a soft chuckle. A chuckle that set his heart alight.

Victor lay there for a moment, a feeling of déjà vu overtaking him.

Warning: Major Character Death

Soul Loop

Cherry101

Summary:

It was almost funny, how easily it was to watch the day restart.

At this point… it was even common. Every few weeks, there would be a day that would repeat itself. Once, twice, three times, and then everything would go back to normal.

Otabek knew what it was, but he didn’t know what to do about it.

All The Beauties In His Hands

WinterSky101

Summary:

The wedding of Jean-Jacques Leroy and Isabella Yang is the wedding of the century.

Load Paper Tray 1

esutonia

Summary:

Perhaps, Victor realized, they were all gifted in their own ways. The way that Victor could charm the ancient, malfunctioning Xerox into producing perfect packets was perhaps the same way that Yuuri could print carts of brochures but not once refill the paper trays.

Soulmates/Office AU: Everyone has a little magic in them, but soulmates’ powers complete each other. Soulmates don’t know they’re meant for each other, until they figure out how their powers fit together. Victor and Yuuri work for the same company, and end up together with the help of a particularly old, obnoxious Xerox.

we have at least eleven minutes

spicyyuuri

Summary:

just a quickie between gala performances. no big deal, right?

nsfw victuuri week ♔ day two ♔ clothes

Ache

Val_Creative

Summary:

She misses everything about Minako. Hasetsu isn’t the same — too quiet, too empty of joy and laughter.

rouge my knees and roll my stockings down

alykapedia

Summary:

“It’s just that only whores wear the knot in front,” Yuuri says, stepping in close to breathe in Viktor’s intoxicating scent before peering up at him through lowered lashes and affecting an accent he’s heard during one of his and Phichit’s ill-advised jaunts to Covent Garden. “Did you want me to be your whore, milord?”

(Or: A morning well-spent with Lord Nikiforov and his expensive whore.)

At First Bite

opalish

Summary:

“Phichit,” Yuuri said slowly, noting that the hamsters currently had fangs. Tiny, needle-sharp fangs. “Did you name your hamsters Spikester, Hamsticula, and Edward Cullen II because they actually drink the blood of the innocent?”

“Oh, you caught that?” Phichit asked with a winning smile.

The Track

YuriPirozhki (AceOfSpace)

Summary:

JJ liked to think that one day, he could realise his goal of skating flawlessly to a program and song that he’d put together by himself. That would be the day when he’d be more than just Jean-Jacques Leroy, the son of ice dancing’s power couple. He’d be JJ Leroy: Record breaker, history maker, and one of a kind. He was convinced that his new guitar would help him to get there.

places to go, sights to see

Mayarene Rose (Paradise_of_Mary_Jane)

Summary:

This is what Yuuri knows: There is a giant green monster blob, a man with a blue box, and a planet called Barcelona. Also there’s time travel.

(“Time and Relative Dimension in Space,” the Doctor had proudly explained which made absolutely no sense. But then, nothing in the past hour had made any kind of sense so Yuuri’s willing to go with it.

It’s probably not a dream.  Probably.)

Boof? Boof.

JMonCheri

Summary:

Makkachin tells us on how Viktuuri sexy times go down.

WARNING: EXTREMELY explicit. Don’t read unless you want to nut your intestines out.

Soft Things

airspaniel

Summary:

Yuri dresses up, with a little help.

Always Looking Out for You

TripCreates

Summary:

Mari walks over to the closet to start getting things out. She reaches for a box up on a shelf and she begins to pull it toward her. Once it slides off the edge, some sheets of paper slip off the shelf from underneath the box and drift to the floor. Mari laughs as she sees the familiar Viktor posters land on the floor. “I was wondering where those went.”

~~~ Or Mari helps Yuuri pack up his room as he gets ready to move to St. Petersburg to be with Viktor.

love is blind(folded)

hamartiawrites

Summary:

It’s the day of Viktor and Yuuri’s wedding.

Everything looks perfect. The decorations are perfect, every single visitor looks stunning, and Phichit is certain Yuuri will look absolutely breathtaking when those big doors at the end of the hall open.

There’s just one problem, and unfortunately, it’s a big one.

The groom, Viktor Nikiforov? The five time world champion? The Living Legend? The most decorated men’s figure skater in history?

Yeah, he looks downright ridiculous.

(Or the time where Phichit thought Viktor wanted to hurt Yuuri when all Viktor wanted to do was hurt himself with Yuuri’s beauty.)

My Favorite Shape

thoughtsappear

Summary:

Isabella has never doubted Yuri Plisetsky’s animal magnetism.

Firebird

LavenderProse

Summary:

“It’s almost like a marriage proposal,” Viktoria says, and the thing is—the thing is, if Viktoria wanted it to be, Yuri would make it one. If Viktoria had asked, “Is that a marriage proposal?” Yuri would have unhesitatingly said yes. She would have lowered herself onto a knee before Viktoria in Fukuoka Airport, the officially certified least romantic place in the world, and said Viktoria Konstantinovna Nikiforova, please—please—

(Yuri doesn’t know if Viktoria will stay. She wants her to. She wants her to want to. But she doesn’t want to be the only thing holding Viktoria here. Life for Yuri Katsuki is, as always, Hard.)

Cherry

sophiahelix

Summary:

Now Mila turns to look at her, blue eyes open and bright. She offers the cigarette back, pinched between two fingertips lacquered red as her lips, and quirks a smile, sarcastic and knowing. “You mean you don’t support your brother no matter what?”

“Hmph,” Mari snorts, and takes the cigarette back.

Situation Status: Possibly Awesome

ineptshieldmaid

Summary:

It’s early in the season, his first year competing in the Grand Prix as a senior, and Kenji is in a Situation.

We’ll Always Have Paris

Teuthida

Summary:

Lilia recognized her, of course.

The Struggles of Living with Viktor Nikiforov

Minipandacakes

Summary:

Yuuri had imagined life with Viktor in St. Petersburg as being a perfect blur of snuggles and laughter and kisses. And while he was right, he wasn’t quite prepared for the frustration that comes right along with the happiness when you first make a home with your partner. This one-shot is made up of a trio of short stories I couldn’t resist writing out. Enjoy!~

Blades of a Ballet Dancer

Katrinova

Summary:

When word gets out that Yuuri helped create his record breaking routine Yuri On Ice, the world wants to know if he thinks he could do solo work. Yuuri says no, everyone else disagrees. Obviously, everyone else is a traitor.

Part of Yuuri Week 2017 Day 4- [Theme: On Ice]

Strut For Me

Katrinova

Summary:

“Darling, as your coach and choreographer it is also my job to make sure you get the exposure you deserve!” Or, there were aspects of being a world champion figure skater Yuuri was not prepared for. At all.

Part of Yuuri Week 2017 Day 5- [Theme: Eros]

Tweet tweet - Yuuri Week Day 7

hazelandglasz

Summary:

In which Yuuri should never be left alone with a full bottle of vodka and a fully charged phone

[Player] is Suffering From Thirst. [Player] is Well Again.

counterheist

Summary:

“Tell him you’re a blacksmith, Yuuri, tell him you’re good with your hands.”

“…but I’m not a blacksmith?” Phichit is a blacksmith. Yuuri used to make saddles and gaze longingly at daguerreotypes of men wearing the newest shirt collar designs. Now he gazes longingly at Russian immigrants. Maybe he’ll see Nikiforov wearing a new shirt at the next Fort. Maybe he’ll drown at a river crossing first.

Who’s to say?

Crop Top Distraction

nerdlife4eva

Summary:

When Yuuri, Phichit, Victor, and Yurio take a vacation to an all-inclusive resort, Victor’s and Yurio’s fans begin to monopolize their time. Even though Yuuri is understanding, he easily goes along with Phichit’s plan to regain Victor’s attention. These dorks fall in pools over each other. Yuuri is in a crop top, Phichit is in a crop top. Victor is lucky to be alive.

This is part of YuuriWeek and the amazing art is thanks to my insanely talented friend Magical-Mistral please go give this artist some love and watch for our future collabs!!

not in service

PuggleFiclets (Pugglemuggle)

Summary:

“You know what they say…” Yuri replies. “If you crack the ice once, you better be ready to shatter the whole motherfucking pond.” In a dictatorship dominated by the International Skating Union, Yuri was bound to end up in prison sooner or later. He isn’t planning to stay there, though. No—Yuri’s got bigger plans.

#yuri on ice #yoi #fic rec list #July 2017

[blessyourheartdharps]

Three Mopes At A Pub || Max&Abel&Dani

Who: Max Souza @maxellissouza & Abel Hayward @hayabel & Dani Harper 

When: Tuesday, 07/24/18 - After 9 pm

Where:  The Pub

What: Max runs into Abel and Dani, they spend some time together before Abel decides to leave

Notes: alcohol & depression || also I’m terrible at names

Max nodded at the bartender when he was asked if he wanted a third drink, figuring there was no harm in it. He usually stuck to a two drink maximum, as he was a lightweight, but he had the time before work to sleep it off anyway, and he was in a pretty crappy mood. He'd finally gotten the chance to go out with that cute girl from the coffee shop that he'd been chasing for weeks, only for her to leave once he'd told her what he did for a living. Why was it such a big deal to people? So he danced around in his underwear for a living, there were worse professions a person could have! He sipped on his whiskey, grimacing a little as he did. He hated the stuff, but it was what men drank, and since he was nearing the age of twenty-two, it was probably time he started acting like one. That's what his parents said, anyway. 

He was considering just leaving the bar and going home for an early night in, when he saw two slightly familiar faces walk in. He'd only had one brief conversation with Dani, and an even shorter one with Abel, but they'd both been really nice to him. And leaving without at least saying hi would be rude, he could almost hear his mother nagging him in the back of his head. So, before he could stop himself, he walked over in their direction, hoping that they would remember him and he wouldn't totally embarrass himself by saying hello.

Abel was looking forward to going out with Dani. Between everything, he was pretty relaxed ever since he got back to New York. Granted seeing Marley  was pretty relaxing as well. He checked up on Isabella, hoping she was doing okay with his parents and being in Lima. "So, how many drinks are we going to be drinking tonight?" He asked as he looked at Dani and looked over to see a familiar face. If he remembered correctly, his name was Max and he waved. "Yo."

Dani was glad to have Abel back in New York. She was also glad to be going out for drinks, she needed it. Being back in New York was starting to feel like a terrible idea, but she knew it was what she needed for her career. It wasn't like she'd been expecting a warm welcome from anyone, much less old friends and her ex girlfriend and, in truth, she wasn't expecting anything from Santana. The messages she'd exchanged with Santana, posting Stone Cold, it all had her head spinning and the only way she knew to make it stop was alcohol. It was nice to be going out, doing stuff, it kept her mind off shit. "You want a number or will you accept I want to down as many as it takes to stop feeling like I want to run away?" She laughed a bit, following her gaze to the familiar face. Max. "Howdy."

Max let out a sigh of relief when they both seemed to recognize him, at least, if they were actually talking to him. A quick look over his shoulder made him realize that they were, so he smiled and came closer. "Hey, guys. Having a fun night?"

"Just enough so I can pay the tab later and make you stop feeling like you need to run away because its not healthy." Abel pointed out before he turned his attention towards the guy. "Yeah, just starting actually. What about you, having a fun night. Also want to have drinks with us? Since we haven't started drinking yet."

"I got some cash, you ain't gotta buy all my drinks. And I know, and yet that's what I've been doin' my entire life. Runnin from it all." She shrugged a bit and smiled at Max. The conversations he'd had with him had been interesting and he really seemed like a nice guy. "Ask me after a couple drinks, you'll get a better answer, but I'm sure we're in for a decent night."

Max shook his head, glancing at the door before turning back to them. "Nah, that's okay, I wouldn't want to intrude or anything. I was just going to head home, call it an early night." He shrugged, a little sadly, taking another look at the door in hopes that his date would suddenly walk back through it.

"Or you can pay me back." Abel replied with a knowing look. He raised an eyebrow when he heard Max, then looked towards the door and looked back at the guy. "C'mon, you won't be intruding. Besides, you're in for good company anyway. Unless you gotta work in the morning?"

Dani rolled her eyes at Abel, but smiled. However, it faltered as she heard Max talk. "Now, I ain't gonna stop ya if you've got work, but other than that I'm gonna insist you stay.  At least for one drink. I don't like the idea of anyone goin home sad." She put a hand on her hip, eyeing Max.

"I uh..." He sighed and scratched the top of his head. "I have work tomorrow night starting at midnight? So... should probably... you know. Rest up for that." It wasn't that he didn't want to hang out with Dani and Abel, he was sure they'd be a lot of fun, but he didn't want to feel like a third wheel. Especially not when he was in a sour mood, and at risk for ruining their fun. "I guess maybe one drink couldn't hurt though."

"She has a point and if I was you, I wouldnt argue with her. Or she'll slap you upside the head." Abel nodded as he put his hand up just in case she would. "Awesome, feel free to take a set and enjoy. Is everyone cool with shots?"

Dani smirked at Abel, laughing a bit. "That I will, and beside, midnight tomorrow is a long way from now, I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to rest up." She hated seeing people upset at the bar, but especially when she herself wasn't in the best mood. She wanted to help people feel better, cause somewhere along the line she'd feel better. "I'm always good with shots."

Max nodded and sat down at the bar, giving them a small, only slightly foced smile. "Okay, but just one. It doesn't take too many of those before I'm at the point where trying to order an Uber is like solving a Rubex cube." He was starting to feel grateful that Dani and Abel had walked in. This at least beat sitting at home and moping, that was for sure.

"I have never heard someone compared solving a Rubex cube to ordering an Uber. I like it." Abel said as he looked at Max with a smile. "Alright, I'll go and get us a round of shots and I'll be back." He pulled out his wallet as he headed towards the bar. "Can I get a round of shots?" He ordered with his voice slightly loud,  before he saw a beautiful lady at the bar and grabbed the tray after a while. "Thanks, put it on my tab alright?" He slowly made his way back to the table, hoping he wouldnt be  wearing the liquor.

Dani laughed a bit, at Max's comparison. "Rubix Cube, eh? Guess I could see it." She watched Abel walk away and turned to Max. "You land that tinder date you were lookin for?" She raised an eyebrow, hands stuffed into the pocket of her jeans.  "Or even just someone to talk to?" Her attention wandered towards the bar, smirking a bit as Abel slowly made his way back.

Max smiled at Abel, watching him as he walked away, but his smile fell again at Dani's question. "Oh, well, sort of. You just missed her, actually. She wasn't cool with the whole... stripper thing." He shrugged and turned to her, acting like it stung less than it had. "You win some, you lose some, what are you going to do?"

Abel said excuse me as he walked towards the table and carefully put the tray onto the table. "Lose what? If you don't mind me askin'." He said as he put the tray in the middle of the table and walked back around where he was standing.

Dani sighed, nodding a bit as Max spoke. "Well, if she has an issue with it she doesn't deserve you. Cause there ain't no shame in what you do, and anybody whose got an issue with it ain't worth your time." She nodded her head a bit. Looking over at Abel she smiled. "Tinder dates not worth his time. Or somethin'."

Max nodded, grimacing a little as he picked up the shot. "Yeah. Or something. But it's cool. I'll get over it. With a little help from my friend Mr. Tequila Shot." He tapped the shot glass against the other two and quickly downed it. "Starting to forget her already."

"Oh, yeah no. Tinder's pretty basic for hookups and threesomes, sometimes and there are some people who are on there to make friends." Abel replied as he took a shot and downed it after they tapped shot glasses. He swallowed the tequila, placed it onto the table. "Good."

Dani nodded a bit. She picked up the shot, tapped the glass and downed it, making sure to not slam it back down on the table too hard. "You deserve better anyway." Chuckling a bit, she looked over at whoever was working the bar. "How weird of a look y'all think I'd get from the bartender if I ordered a Tie Me To The Bedpost?" She asked, turning back to the guys.

"I mean, is that an actual drink? Or did you just make that up? Because I think that it would probably seem a little weird if it wasn't one." Max chuckled and shrugged. "But no judgments from me, I mean, if that's what you're into..."

Abel had to hold back from laughing and swallowed his chuckles. He took a minute to breath and let out a breath when he knew he could. "Its an actual drink, don't worry." He replied with a smile and looked over at Dani. "Go and get it. Also no judgement here."

Dani chuckled but stuck her hand on her hip. "Now, that ain't what I asked. I asked how weird a look I'm gettin from him. I was already gonna order it whether y'all were judging me or not." She smiled, but headed off to the bar anyway, leaning up against it to flag down the bartender in question. "Can I get a tie me to the bedpost, hun?" Dani smiled at the way the bartender went red, her bottom lip between her teeth. She paid out of pocket for it and winked at the still flustered bartender before walking back over to the guys.

Max watched the interaction with a laugh, taking a second to check out the bartender. "The poor guy. He's too cute to be teased like that. Not that he seems to mind, anyway. Though I hope he doesn't think he actually has a shot with you, because that'd just be cruel."

Abel grabbed another shot, downed it and placed it onto the table. "Eh, let the guy dream until she pops his bubble." He murmured as he placed his empty shot glass and grabbed another one.

"Oh but that's the fun part. But don't worry, I'll order a sweet tight pussy at some point and settle it." She grinned, taking a sip of her drink. It was a little weird to be drinking fruity stuff, after so much Jack, but that was precisely why she was doing it. Dani knew Jack would get her drunk, he was her old faithful, but she wasn't just looking to get drunk. She was looking to have a good time and forget for a bit, find reasons to not run, find friends, people to tease, people to flirt with. Just have fun.

Max eyebrows went up a little at that, and he nearly choked on his drink. "You know, I should probably be used to hearing those words by now, but I guess this is one time I wasn't expecting them. Jesus, yeah, I think that might do the trick."

Abel licked his lips before he placed his other shot glass next to his other two. "While you two bond over nasty shit, Ima get myself rum and coke." He walked away from the table and stood at the counter. Don't get him wrong, he would chime in but lately he hadnt been feeling himself. "Can I get a rum and coke and I'll just pay the tab right now if I can." He said as he pulled out his wallet and paid for it all. He told them thank you, grabbed it and took it back to the table.

"Sorry, not sorry?" Dani said, but turned to watch Abel, her face scrunching up. Something was off. She knew Abel well enough to know when he wasn't okay. She sighed, sipping her drink, trying to figure out what was wrong, as if she stared at him long enough the answer would just become obvious. As he came back she turned back towards Max. "What're you drinkin'?"

Max shrugged and took another sip of his whiskey with a grimace. "Whiskey. I hate it. It tastes like death and misery."  He looked over at her fruity drink with envy. "Wanna trade?"

Abel took a drink of his rum and coke, ignored the conversation and took another shot. He placed the empty shot glass next to the others, wiped his mouth and focused on his drink.

"Death and misery, eh? Never thought I'd hear one of my favorite drinks called such, but sure, ain't nobody need to be tasting misery right now." She set the drink down and slid it towards him. Whatever was going on with Abel really throwing her off. "I can't carry your ass home, slow it down." Her words were almost too gentle for what she was saying.

Max gratefully took a long sip of the fruity drink, happy to get the taste out of his mouth. He finally noticed Abel's sour mood, and  looked closely at him with concern. "Hey, I know it's not really my place, but are you okay, man?"

"Yeah, Im fine. Just, having a moment. That's all." Abel replied as he held back his tears and pocketed his pants. "I'm gonna go ahead and leave, don't wanna ruin the mood that's going on here." He looked at Dani. "So I will see you back at the apartment and." He looked back at Max. "I'll see you around, aight? Thanks for the drinks and  see you guys around." He gave them a small smile and headed towards the door.

Dani narrowed her eyes at Abel, held up a finger to let Max know to hold on, and immediately followed him, fist curling into the back of his shirt. "Not so fast. If you think I'm lettin you walk outta here for the exact same reason I wasn't lettin him leave, you've lost your damn mind and forgot who you're out with. I know you've been goin through shit, but I ain't about to let my best friend go home and mope." She let go of his shirt and crossed her arms over her chest, waiting to see what Abel would do.

Max sunk back into his seat a little, focusing on finishing off Dani's drink and ordering another, instead of their conversation, figuring it'd be better to get drunk than to eavesdrop. Plus, Dani had good taste, the drinks were delicious.

Abel clenched his jaw when she grabbed his shirt. "Let go of my shirt, Dani." He swallowed hard as he looked at her. "No, I didn't forget who I was with, but Im not going to be bringing down the mood when I just want to get drink and get lost in my sorrows when you guys are having fun.  Besides, Im sure I've made a bad impression on the guy already, and another person who hates me." He felt her let go of his shirt. "So, go back and have fun. I will see you back at the apartment." He looked at Max. "It was nice seeing you man, sorry for all of this." He looked back at Dani. "Don't drink too much." He opened up the door and headed back to the apartment.

#depression tw #alcohol tw #eventwhatif #parawhatif #i: max souza #i: abel hayward #p: max souza #p: abel hayward #p: 003 #p: all

[tigereyes45]

Care for a Dance, Serah

She was leaning against the wall. Not one much for the music or the dances that were common and popular in Orlais. Then again she had never been that good at dancing in Ferelden or Kirkwall either. Bethany had always enjoyed it though.

"Alone? When a party is going on. I am shocked Hawke."

Hawke rolls her eyes, though she wasn't sure if he saw the playful expression behind her mask. "I am a mage here under false pretenses. Not really the best time to be drawing attention to myself." Hawke says her voice light and teasing.

"Not even flirting with the dukes and duchesses. Something must be wrong." Varric says with the addition of a tsk at the end. This playful inquiry was one similar to many they have had in the past. It was his creative way of asking what was wrong. Granted it was clearer than some of his more colorful ways of asking.

"I'm not that much of a flirt." Hawke defends crossing her arms over the very flattering dress. She heard a noble's groan quietly escapes from nearby. She glances up to see him turn away with such speed that she was surprised his neck hadn't snapped. Hawke ignores it and looks back again at Varric who was shaking his head.

Coughing into his hand, Varric smiles back up at Hawke after noticing he had gained her attention again. "I have a few books and friends that say otherwise. Shall I write Daisy and Broody?"

"No." She says obstinately. She looks out at the dance floor. “Hey, have you seen where the food or drinks are? I’ve looked around but I haven’t been able to find any.”

Varric rubs his chin with an arrogant smile on his lips. He clearly had a joke in mind. He must have thought better of it though, because he simply shrugs and says, “I think the food is downstairs somewhere, but you may miss the dancing."

"Now that would be scandalous." Hawke looks around the hall. "It seems as if no one would notice. Care to join me Mr.Tethras?"

"Free food. You know the way to a man's heart." He says as he takes her arm.

"Was there ever any doubt?"

He chuckles and the familiar sound causes Hawke to relax a little more. "None whatsoever." They walk pass the gossiping nobles and away from the main hall of the party.

It was nice. She hadn't seen much of Varric lately, even with her visit to Skyhold. Their meeting had been brief. Now they were walking arm in arm at an Orlesian ball. As odd as it was it made things feel a bit more normal.

"Finally. I thought I would starve in this dress." Hawke says, her tone ravenous.

"It's not the worse thing you could die in." Varric walks past the trays of food that had been set out to carry upstairs.

Hawke picks up a roll and eats with a lack of grace that would make anyone wonder if she had practice it. Which she had. It was the fastest way she could get food down and she had honed it as a useful skill. She used it often in Kirkwall when someone would pick a fight with her as she ate at the Hanged Man.

“Careful Hawke. What would someone say if they walked in and saw you like this?”

“If it was my mother then I may be scared. What can a few nobles do to me?”

“Kick you out of the party and away from the food.” There was a mock gasp as a response. “And turn you into the authorities.” Now a contemptuous snort.

“They can try.” Hawke mutters as if it was nothing of her concern. In truth it wouldn’t be much of a fight. Varric knew just what Hawke was capable of first hand.

The music became so loud that they could now hear it even from way down in the kitchens. Varric looks over at the direction it was coming from, through the floor above them. It was a lovely song they were playing, but around all those stuffy nobles it wouldn’t be much fun. Still he had to give them some credit. They had great taste in food. He turns back to his plate only to stop and smile as he watches Hawke looking up as well. She was staring as if she could see the music, probably imagine how the nobles must be dancing to it. Well he knew what to do. Varric stands up from where he had sat down. He wipes off his hands on the corner sheet of the table before holding up a hand towards Hawke. Hawke slowly turns her head back to him with a smile on her face unmasking her look of disbelief.

“Care for a dance serah.” Hawke wipes her hands clean on the other corner or the table before she stands up. She mocks a curtsy before giving him her signature smile.

“I would love a dance Mister Tethras.” Hawke takes his hand and he rests the other around the lower half of her waist. They began ballroom dancing along with the music. They didn’t have much room so Varric was careful to make sure that they didn’t hit anything as they dance clumsily in a mock form of the nobles above.

“You know, I think we can do better than this.” Hawke teases.

“Oh really? What are you planning Hawke?” Varric asks recognizing that gleam in her eyes. “Do you wish to have a different dance partner?”

Hawke’s laugh fills the room before she stops their dance completely. “Never Varric. You’re the best dance partner anyone could have. However I know plenty of better ways to dance.”

“This isn’t the hangman Hawke. I don’t think the nobles play such music here.”

“True but we can always imagine that we’re back at the Hanged Man. We’ve had plenty of fun times there.”

Varric nods, giving into the overzealous girl’s wishes. He let’s go of her and steps back as Hawke begins dancing to a fast upbeat song only she heard in her head. Her hair was in her eyes and she almost ran into the table but she was clearly have fun, and Varric had to admit he enjoyed the show. Or he did until he became part of it. Hawke grabs his hands and suddenly he was whisked away with her into that world with music only those magical ears of her crazy mind could hear.

“Dancing is no fun alone, Messer Tethras.” Hawke says once again mocking the customs of those who were above their heads.

“I wouldn’t dream of being left out of such a clearly fun time.” Varric jests back.

They danced down there that way for who knew how long. It could have been a few minutes or an hour, he wasn’t sure. He was actually having fun just dancing stupidly with Hawke. He could almost imagine them in the Hanged Man with all the drunks cheering Hawke and Isabella on as the two danced the way only they did together. Poor Merrill flung into things she didn’t know what to do in. He lets himself relax, for once in his life without Bianca nearby.

“I never knew you could dance Varric!”

“There’s many things you don’t know about me Hawke.” Varric says giving her a flirtatious look.

“Oh really, such as?”

“That even though I’m a dwarf I could still dip you.” And dip her he could. Hawke was surprised at first and clings to his shoulders, but somewhere within that fall she had relaxed enough to let herself lean back even farther with her head almost touching the ground. Who knew she could bend so far back? He pulls her back up and Hawke grabs hold of the dwarf before lifting him up, spinning him, and dipping him herself. She had a very smug smirk on her face.

“Kind of like this?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

She let’s him go and falls back on her bum. He could hear the loud thump as she hits the cold wooden floors.

“You’re going to wrinkle your dress Hawke.”

“I don’t think the company will mind.” Varric shrugs and walks back over to the table. There was nothing to drink. He searches until he pulls a bottle of wine off of one of the shelves.

“Care for a drink?” Varric asks as he pours his own.

“I’m famished.” Hawke was back onto her feet and was downing her own glass as soon as Varric had put the cork back on the bottle.

“Varric,”

“Hmm?”

“Is this going to end up in one of your books?” Hawke asks peering down at him from over the top of her glass. “Will this be just another story for you to tell?”

“Of course not Hawke, what do you take me for?”

“A storyteller.”

“A handsome storyteller.” Varric adds.

“With amazing chest hair.”  Hawke banters.

Varric nods. “Don’t worry Hawke, storytellers don’t tell all of their stories.” They keep the best ones to themselves. Varric thinks with a mischievous smile on his face. Hawke matches his own before they said cheers, she put her mask back on, and they returned to the ball.

One of the chapters in my collection of short stories. More can be read here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/4395398

#varric and hawke #varric x hawke #orlesian ball #I think it is ridiculous that you can not bring Hawke or that she was not mentioned there when you take Varric #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #fem hawke #mage hawke #varric tethras #fanfiction #fanfic