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spencersstrawberryjello · 3 years

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Treat People With Kindness (The BAU)

Summary: Garcia gets Reid into Harry Styles and everyone subsequently loses their minds over it.

Content: Honestly just funny I’m not sure what to call it

MC’s name/pronouns: No alternate main character, just Spencer.

Word Count: 1706

A/N: This whole fic was inspired by the fact that a fan gave Matthew Gray Gubler a Treat People With Kindness pin, which then sparked my friend Emily and I to theorize that Spencer Reid would absolutely be a Harry Styles stan. So yeah, this is literally just the product of one fan interaction lmao

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“I got a good feelin’.”

“... What’s he doing?” Emily leaned over and whispered to JJ, who just shook her head.

“I’m just takin’ it all in.”

“Ok, what happened to Reid?” Morgan joined them, and they both shrugged, watching Spencer walk through the doors of the office.

“Floatin’ up and dreamin’.”

“You know, maybe I need to add him to my drug test list too.” Hotch had stepped out of his office, trying to hide his grin as they saw Spencer making his way to his desk, headphones in and practically dancing over to his seat, mouthing every word of the song he was listening to. He plopped down in it with a little spin, opening a file on his desk without ever taking his headphones out.

“Try ‘Dancing with the Stars,’” Emily laughed, and JJ broke away from their group, heading over to his desk.

“Hey Spence,” She rested her arms on the divide between his desk and Emily’s, tapping on it to get his attention.

“Maybe we can find a place to feel good.”

“Spence!” She tapped his arm this time, and he practically jumped out of his skin, turning to face her.

“And we can treat -”

He quickly tore the headphones out of his ears, setting them down on his desk and looking up at her, clearing his throat.

“Sorry. I was listening to something.” He gestured to the headphones still connected to his phone, as if that wasn’t already obvious.

“Yeah, I noticed,” JJ laughed.

“Do we have a case?”

“Nothing yet, you’re good.” She tried fruitlessly to hide her grin, and he gave her a strange look.

“Ok…”

“So,” She plopped down in Emily’s chair, rolling it over to sit near him, “What were you listening to?”

“Oh!” His face lit up, and he grabbed his phone, holding it out for her to see. She put the headphones in her ears, hearing the final moments of the song he’d been jamming to.

“And we can treat people with kindness, find a place to feel good.”

“Harry Styles?” JJ laughed incredulously, handing him back his phone.

“You’ve heard of him?” He asked, taking the phone and sitting it back on his desk and turning back to her.

“I’m pretty sure most people have heard of him, Spence.”

“Ok, well, I hadn’t. But on Saturday I was speaking at the University of Mary Washington with Rossi, and one of the girls gave me this, after the lecture,” He grabbed his bag off the back of the chair, pointing to a round pin clipped on the strap. It was enamel, with light pink on the inside and a red rose in the center, encircled by the phrase “Treat People With Kindness” in black lettering. “And you know, naturally I thought it was a good message so I put it on my bag and I thought that was all it was. But then I ran into Garcia.”

“Oh god.”

“I was walking in yesterday and she saw it and kind of freaked out a little bit, and pulled me into her office and played me the song - the one you just listened to - and it was amazing and so I told her I thought it was amazing, which made her freak out even more and then you called with a case so I left, only to receive a a YouTube playlist a few hours later that she told me I had to watch every video on or she’d stop printing the case files for me.”

“You know she loves you too much to actually do that, right?”

“I mean, the odds were low, but I wasn’t going to risk it. Either way, I sort of listened to every single song on Fine Line and Self-Titled in one night and also a whole bunch of interviews that she sent me and he’s really funny and his music is great and the moral of the story is I kind of love him.”

JJ sent back in her chair, dumbfounded. “Dude… you mean to tell me Garcia made you a Harry Styles fan?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“I - Penelope!” JJ left without another word, making her way into Garcia’s office. Spencer just shrugged, returning to the file he was looking at - and his music - as Garcia spun to face JJ.

“Jennifer, my love, to what do I owe the pleasure? New case?” She asked. JJ just shook her head.

“You broke Reid.”

“I did not break Reid!” She defended with a grin. “I merely helped him reach his true form.”

“He willingly used technology, and he came into the office today practically dancing to Treat People With Kindness. So yes, you did break Reid.”

“JJ, dear,” Garcia got up from her chair, taking JJ’s hands in the doorway, “Do you remember when Reid got that adorable little shaggy haircut?”

“Despite the fact that he changes his hair like every month, yes, I do.”

“And do you remember what Hotch said?”

She thought for a moment, then her eyes widened in shock. “You did all of this… because of the boyband joke?”

“Like I said: true form.” Garcia returned to her chair, spinning around with a laugh. “In my defense, I didn’t know he was going to get a Harry Styles pin. I just took advantage of the opportunity when it presented itself. I already failed at teaching him to worship Lady Gaga, I could not miss another chance to try and pull him out of the dark ages.”

“You are ridiculous, you know that?”

“That’s why you love me!”

JJ laughed, leaving Garcia’s office and heading up to hers, ruffling Spencer’s hair on her way by.

“You should grow your hair out again.”

“You think so?” He reached up and fussed with his hair, just as Garcia emerged into the main room.

“Spencer Reid, my beautiful boy genius, did you do what I asked?”

“Garcia, I figured out how to download music to my phone because of you. So yes, I did what you asked.”

“You are officially my new favorite person.”

“Hang on, what is this all about?” Emily asked. Garcia grinned, hardly able to contain her excitement.

“I’m finally bringing the lovely Dr. Reid here into the 21st Century.”

“Penelope,” Emily raised an eyebrow at her, “What did you do?”

“Garcia thinks she did something revolutionary by getting me into Harry Styles’ music,” Spencer clarified. Emily immediately clapped her hand over her mouth, about to respond before Derek piped up from his desk.

“Oh, she converted you too?”

“‘Too’ - you mean to tell me that you, Derek Morgan, are a Harry Styles fan?” Emily was looking between the three of them now, practically in shock. Derek just laughed, holding up his hands.

“What can I say, the guy’s got an incredible voice.”

“And the make up of his songs is so interesting as well; I mean, when you look at the music he’s produced in the last few years in comparison to what he performed while he was a part of One Direction -”

“Oh my god please tell me you’ve also listened to One Direction,” Emily said, laughing when Spencer nodded.

“I don’t understand why you guys are making such a big deal out of this. He’s a singer, it’s not like he doesn’t have fans,” He defended.

“Reid, two months ago you didn’t even know who Lady Gaga was. This is kind of a big deal.”

“Conference room in five,” JJ walked through the group, heading upstairs as everyone else got up to follow her.

“Do not think I am dropping this,” Emily pointed at Derek and Spencer before jogging to catch up with JJ. Derek laughed, falling in step with Reid.

“So, what all did Garcia make you watch?”

“Oh, just a bunch of interviews. I did some of my own reading though -”

“Of course you did.”

“- and what I found really interesting was One Direction’s actual rise to fame. Because the thing is, they didn’t even win X-Factor. They came in third, and yet they became the most famous group to come from that season of the show. In Forever Young - their book - they talked about their time on X-Factor, but it was so strange to me because their first album - Up All Night, that came out not even a full year after they finished the X-Factor live tour - sold 4.5 million copies within the first year. And they just kept growing… Morgan why are you laughing?”

“I’m sorry,” They’d walked into the conference room by now, sitting down next to each other at the table while Derek tried to stop himself from laughing, looking at Reid in disbelief, “You read their book?”

“And their Wikipedia page - I told you I did my own reading!”

“You said you did some of your own reading, you didn’t say you’d memorized everything about their career!”

“Eidetic memory, remember?” He tapped his forehead, and Derek rolled his eyes.

“You never let me forget. I’m assuming you know everything about their solo careers as well?”

“Well I got into Harry’s stuff first, but I ended up reading all of theirs since I didn’t have anything else to do last night. It’s just so interesting to think about what One Direction’s situation reveals about human nature and celebrity culture. I mean, a lot of their fans are dictionary definition erotomaniacs, and yet -”

“I shouldn’t even be surprised that you read this all in one night.”

“Like I said: didn’t have anything else to do.”

“As much as I’m glad you boys are bonding, we have more important things to worry about than Reid’s newfound love for a British boy band,” JJ interrupted.

“Niall Horan’s actually Irish -”

“Spence. The case.” She pulled up the photos on the screen, and Spencer nodded, opening the case file in front of him as JJ began to review everything they needed to know. She finally closed out, and Hotch grabbed his tablet and rose from the table.

“Alright, wheels up in thirty.”

Everyone nodded, gathering up their things and vacating the room. Spencer and Derek trailed out after everyone, Spencer picking up the conversation as soon as JJ finished.

“You know, I’m considering learning how to knit - there’s this cardigan that Harry wore...”

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #bau #bau headcanon #spencer reid headcanon #criminal minds headcanon #bau fanfiction #fanfiction #reid #dr reid #dr spencer reid #writing #harry styles #treat people with kindness #hs #styles

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theworldofotps · 3 years

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Letter From The Road

WWE Superstar: Finn Bálor and Bálor Word Count: 680 ~A series in which I write a letter from a superstar to their partner or friend back home while they’re touring.~

This is for @letsgivethisonemoreshot I truly hope you enjoy this and that I managed to get it the way you wanted. Balor’s parts will be in bold writing. I got a little carried away with this one. _________ Tag list: @hungmanhorsecarriage @writtingrose @omg-im-such-a-masochist @sjwrites22 @new-zealand-chic @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @xladyxfatex @biforrollynch @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @demonqueen29 @itsicantbelievethis666 @lilred91 @xbreezymeadowsx @rebellious-desires @youcantreignonmyparade @melblacc @letsgivethisonemoreshot @alination @ava-valerie @shortyiceheart @serpantscorpio8497 @thatpanpal

If you wanna be added to the list lemme know. __________ Dear princess, Hello, my queen, I know you’re missin me a lot right now and I wanted to surprise my favorite girl with a letter to hopefully cheer you up a bit! OUR girl Finn don’t forget that. Right right sorry, anyway I just wanted to let you know that I, we, miss you too. We miss waking up next to you every morning and falling asleep next to you at night. I can’t believe it’s already been three weeks and we still have another four to go. It sucks not getting to see you in person. Don’t get me wrong I’m thankful for the Facetime calls, texts etc but it’s not the same as holding our baby.

Finn here literally won’t shut the fuck up about you, everyone who stands near him for ten seconds has to be careful to avoid asking any questions about you or they’ll be forced to listen to him go on and on.

Hey! Leave me alone I can’t help it I miss her and I know you do too so don’t try and act all innocent.

I may miss me queen but you don’t see me droning on and on about it I’m surprised Seth hasn’t laid you out for how much you talk.

He already understands and told me he doesn’t mind, we got off track anyway we just wanted to tell you we love and miss you. I hope things are going well for you, I know this touring stuff is hard but I thank you for sticking around and supporting us through it. We love you for that baby more than we can ever tell you.

Right we love you so damn much we’re two of the luckiest people ever to have someone so incredible like you by our side. Oh, also I’m supposed to tell you that everyone says hi and they hope you come to a live show soon. Which I agree with, I don’t know if I can go seven weeks without my baby in my arms. It’s already driving me crazy with missing you.

As do I dove, this time apart has just proven what we already know. That this fool and myself love you more than life itself.

We hope you don’t ever doubt how important you are to us, you mean so much we could go on and on but it would never be enough. I’ve noticed lately tho that you’ve been being kinda hard on yourself. Talking down about yourself and I hate seeing you so sad. You, my love, are absolutely perfect to me, us, you are so kind-hearted, always willing to go out of your way to help others.

Not to mention how you put up with the two of us even when we’re being a handful.

Right, we know dating us isn’t the easiest thing and sometimes you get treated poorly by others but just know we will always love you. For the rest of our existence. We love you more than Legos. Dude, I never thought I’d hear you say something like that before (I mean it’s true) but still.

I’m just being honest baby, I want you to know how much you mean to us and never ever doubt that you are loved, you are wanted and we are going to spend the rest of our lives proving that to you lass I promise. We just have to get through these small amounts of time not being able to see each other and when we’re back together again we’ll make up for the missed time.

I can’t wait till we can do the same my precious one, but unfortunately, Finn needs to close this letter it’s almost time to get ready and head to the arena. I love you and I’ll talk to you soon. Yeah, he’s right I better close this here please let me know when you get this because I’m so excited to see your reaction to it. I love you baby to the moon and past that.

Love you forever ever Finn and Bálor

#wwe #finn balor #balor the demon king #finn balor drabble #love letter #letters from the road

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axwalker · 3 years

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Bad Timing: Kismet

Book: The Royal Romance (AU)

Pairing: Drake Walker x Alexis O’Brien (MC)

Synopsis: Alexis O’Brien is escaping a terrible past. After months of running she settles in Cordonia where she meets Drake at the bar where she works and they spend a passionate night together.

What happens when a one-night-stand turns into unexpected parenthood?

This chapter

MASTERLIST

WORDS: 3,890 🙊

POV: Dual

TRIGGER WARNINGS: None for this chapter. In the future, mentions of domestic violence, and explicit sex scenes.

ALL MY FICS ARE +18

A/N: I apologize for any grammatical errors.

I switch between Drake’s and Alexis’ POV several time in this chapter. I hope it’ll be clear enough!

PRESENT TIME Alexis

After a one-hour bus ride and a 20-minutes walk, I finally find the correct address. When I reach the massive iron gates, I punch in the code Mr. Beaumont’s assistant gave me on the phone and gape as the extensive estate comes into view when I walk through. Acres and acres of super green grass littered with pines surround the massive house in the distance. The closer I get, the more I feel like a foreigner. This might have been my world once, but my new reality couldn’t be further apart from all this luxury. I have fifty dollars left in my wallet, an eviction notice back in my 200 square foot studio, and to top it all, the worst freaking headache I’ve had in my life. Talk about a bad streak. Ironically, I’m happier than I’ve been in years. My life belongs to me; I don’t have to live in constant fear and –most importantly, I’m free. Unattached. I want to do a lot of things with my life, and no one will stop me. That’s worth the worst headache in the world or a few money problems.

I ring the bell, and a gorgeous woman opens the door. Her deep blue eyes scowl at me when I smile at her.

“Who are you looking for?” She doesn’t ask as much as she barks the question.

“Eh,” I haven’t been called shy a single day of my life, but her attitude it’s messing with the positive vibes I had coming up here. “I’m looking for Mr. Bertrand Beaumont from Beaumont Caterings.”

“This door is for house guests only. The help,” she says the word as if it tastes bad in her mouth, “must go around the house and ring the bell back there.” She’s about to close the door right in my face when two hot guys come to the door. Seriously, what do people eat in this country?

“Penelope, what are you doing answering the door like a simple maid? Where is Jessa?”

Penelope rolls her eyes. “She had to leave early. She said she asked you for the afternoon off.”

The older man nods as, the younger one grins at me. “We can discuss Jessa’s schedule later, Bertie. Please, come in, Ms.?” He asks me, still smiling.

“Ortiz. Alexis Ortiz.” I grin back, instantly liking the man with the kind blue eyes. “I’m here for the catering job.”

“I’m Maxwell Beaumont. This is my brother Bertrand—the owner and Penelope Brim, one of our party planners.”

I follow them to a huge office and give Bertrand the resumé I printed at the internet place next to my building.

“Is this all true?” He asks after a quick read.

I nod my head.

“Are you sure, Ms. Ortiz? It says here that you were working as a bartender, a barista, and a waitress in a very exclusive French restaurant, all at the same time.”

Penelope gives me a dismissive glare. “She’s obviously lying. That isn’t even possible. Unless she’s iniquitous.”

I know better than to interrupt a potential employer, even worse if it’s to correct them, but this woman is grating on my nerves. Plus, I had a lifetime of keeping my head down with Matt, and I just don’t have the patience for this kind of crap anymore. And she called me a liar. Hell no.

“No, Ms. Brim, I’m not ubiquitous.” Maxwell snorts, and I swear the other guy, Bertrand, smiles behind my CV. I refrain from telling her what iniquitous actually means because I do need this job. “I worked as a barista in a Starbucks from 5 to 11 am. Then as a waitress at “Clair de Lune” from 12 to 6 pm. Finally, as a bartender in an Irish pub from 7 to midnight or 2 am, depending on the day. You can call any of those places and see I’m not lying.” Just please, God, don’t ask for my papers.

Maxwell reads the resumé when Bertrand gives it to him. “Do you speak French and Spanish as well?”

I shrug. “I love languages, and I grew up in a house where my mom and grandmother only spoke Spanish. I learned French in school. I had an amazing teacher.”

Maxwell and Bertrand look at each other. The older brother, a younger, sterner version of Hugh Jackman, clears his throat. “I’ll be honest with you, Ms. Ortiz. Two of our waiters are absent, and tomorrow we’ll be catering to one of the most important events of the year. If everything in your resume is true, you can start training today --paid of course, and start working tomorrow.”

Paid training? Despite my throbbing head, I want to scream with happiness. “Everything is true.”

“That’s settled then. Penelope, please, darling, show Ms. Ortiz the kitchens and the ballroom. You can ask Naomi to train her for tonight. You know Regina, and she’ll want everything to go as smooth as possible.”

“Right.” Penelope turned at me with an uptight smile. “Come with me.”

I turn and beam at Maxwell, who’s giving me a thumbs up. “Thank you. I really appreciate this.”

Bertrand shakes his head. “Don’t thank me yet, Ms. Ortiz. Just do an impeccable job.” He glances at my Vans. “And for the love of God, only heels tomorrow.”

I nod and follow Penelope down the hallway.

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DRAKE

“This is why you ditch your friends who get hitched to a relationship,” I grumble, sitting in my chair.

“He’s five minutes late,” Liam says.

Leo shakes his head. “Well, I want a goddamn drink. How come I can’t order one until he gets here?”

Liam pinches the bridge of his nose. “You two are acting like children. You can wait five minutes.”

“Maybe, but I need something, and fast.”

“Ah, there they are,” Max exclaims, hands clasped together, staring at us. “My boys.” Jesus Christ. Liam is scooped into a hug and then set back in his chair.

From over Liam’s head, Max points at me and shakes his finger. “Come here; you handsome Walker bastard.”

I hold up my hand. “I’m good.”

“Nope.” He shakes his head. “You don’t get to pass up Max’s snuggles.” Before I can move, he swoops to his knees, pulls me into a hug. . . and nuzzles.

“What the fuck are you doing, Beaumont?” I ask, my voice strong as I try to push him away.

“You smell like heaven,” he says, chuckling. No one likes to fuck with me as much as Maxwell Beaumont does. Unfortunately for me, he’s one of my best friends, and the bastard is well aware of it.

“Get out of here.” I palm his face and push him away.

Leo laughs. “Come on, man, you know Walker is a sour bastard.”

With another laugh, Maxwell retreats to his seat, unbuttons his jacket, and sits down. Hands-on the table, he looks between us and declares, “I’m in love.”

Christ. “We know,” Liam and I say at the same time, irritation heavy in our voices. Leo just rolls his eyes as he looks for a waiter.

Maxwell has only been dating Rashad for a few weeks, so it’s no surprise he’s like this—a hopeful idiot with a relentless smile. Hell, he’s been in love with the man for years. It took him a really, really long time to finally make a move. He adjusts his tie as he says, “You don’t have to be rude about it. I’m just sharing. Isn’t that what this is all about? Sharing?”

“Sharing? I thought this was about drinking as much as possible and hooking up with a hot waitress,” Leo says, flagging down our waiter.

When he arrives, I talk above the guys and quickly say, “Macallan, neat.”

“Dalmore, on the rocks, please,” Liam says, and Leo orders the same.

When the waiter turns to Max, he rubs his stomach and says, “You know, a hot cocoa would be perfect right now.”

What the actual fuck? “No.” I step in. “He’ll have an Old Fashion. Thanks.” A little confused and probably slightly disturbed, he takes off as Max complains.

“Hey, I really wanted a hot cocoa.”

“Not happening. First, because they don’t serve hot cocoas here and second because we’re supposed to be out drinking, Beaumont. And you fucking love Old Fashions. You order one every damn time. Stop complaining.”

“Sheesh.” Maxwell unfolds his napkin and sets it on his lap. “What’s up your ass?”

“Nothing.” I push my hand through my hair.

“It’s a girl.” Leo smirks, causing Liam and Max to practically jump out of their seats.

“A girl?” Liam cocks his eyebrow. “Surely not Drake --permanent bachelor, Walker. My fucking heart can’t take it.”

Fucking Leo. “It’s not what Leo is making it out to be.”

“He met her two months ago, and he’s been thinking about her ever since. Magical pussy right there.”

“I swear, Leo; I don’t care for how long we’ve been friends, next time you talk about her like that, I’ll personally break that shit-eat grin off your face”

The clown raises his arms. “I rest my case.”

“What?” Max’s eyes nearly fall out of their sockets. “Drake Walker doesn’t get attached, and he doesn’t duel his friends for a girl.”

Jesus. Thankfully the waiter brings our drinks at that moment, so I have a second to compose myself.

“You slept with her?” Liam asks after a swig of Dalmore. He’s been in a stable relationship with Hanna Lee for a year now. Once the most popular guy on school, he now spends his Friday nights curled up with her watching Netflix. I can’t even remember the last time he went out with us.

“I don’t want to talk about it. The only reason this fuckhead is bringing it up it’s because I went looking for her, and he saw it.” There I said it. Better me than Leo fucking Rys.

Max and Liam exchange a look, but Max seems too stunned to talk, so Liam asks. “You did what?”

I chug my whiskey and ask for another one. “I don’t know why. I just …” Tired of this fucking conversation, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “We had a great time. That’s all.”

“How come Leo knows about this girl, and I don’t?” Liam complains.

Max complains too. “Dude, you know I’m the romantic one. Leo over here has a brick for a heart, and Li is too busy. You need to discuss these things with me.”

“I don’t have a brick for a heart,” Leo says, surprisingly offended.

“No, you’re just still hung up on Maddie,” I say with a smirk. He shifts in his chair but doesn’t say anything. What does it feel, Rys?

“So . . . who is the girl?” Maxwell asks.

For fuck’s sake. I might as well get it over with. “I’m going to say one last time that I’m not interested in her anymore, so before your little hearts starts beating wildly for playing cupid, it’s not going to happen.”

In a snarky tone, Leo replies, “Well, of course, it’s not. She left the country. Are you that bad, Walker? Because I can give you a tip or two.” He’s so fucking annoying.

“Oh.” Max sighs, disappointed.

Leo elbows his brother and says, “He hasn’t slept with anyone since.”

And there it is. The real reason why Leo is worried about this. He lost his wingman. “I’m not an animal, Leo. It’s not the first time in my life that I go two months without fucking. I’m not you. Anyway, all this is pointless. She’s gone.”

My friends grew up with me, so they know when it’s time to stop pushing. Max interrupts the silence that follows because nothing makes little Beaumont more uncomfortable than a gap in the conversation. “Everything is ready for the party tomorrow night. The thirtieth anniversary of Rys Corporation will be a success.”

Liam nods. “Regina talked with Hana this morning. It’s the first anniversary since I took over as CEO. I need everything to be perfect.”

“What about the staff, Max?” Leo asks, smiling. Having sex at every anniversary party is a personal challenge of his.

“We actually hired someone today. She’s gorgeous.” He turns his head at Leo. “But she’s off-limits.” Leo smirks, wiggling his eyebrows. “I mean it, dude. Bertrand said he’s tired of looking for new waitresses. Two quit yesterday morning when they found out that the event was for Rys corporation.”

“Hey, I never lie. It’s not my fault if they think I’ll call them anyway.”

“Whatever, just don’t mess with her. Plus, I got to talk to her after her training today. She’s super nice. She’s Am--. Wait.” He says when his phone chimes up. “Sorry, boys. It was a text from Penelope. Apparently, the Chablis hasn’t been delivered yet. I have to call Joelle before I lose my big brother over a wine crisis. See you all tomorrow.” He finishes his cocktail and stands up.

Liam stands up too. “I should go home too. Han arrived today from Hong Kong.”

Leo checks his phone. “Wait, Li. I’ll go with you. I have a date with this girl I met last night at Kismet. Do you want to come, man?” He asks me. “I’m sure she has a friend she can introduce you.”

I shake my head. “I’ll finish my whiskey and head home. See you all tomorrow.”

It was only one fucking night. Why can’t I get her out of my head?

It’s maddening. Or maybe it is a blessing. If I’m still thinking about her after one night, imagine how bad I’d have it after several. It’s best that she stays far the fuck away from me. I’m not interested in long-term attachments of any kind. I don’t want to think about Lexie Ortiz, but she’s infected my brain. The sound of her teasing laugh haunts me.

And I can’t deny it; it was one hell of a night.

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ALEXIS

“This is a single girl’s paradise.”

“No,” I grimace, trying to clean the spilled tomato sauce from my shirt. “Paradise would be a tropical beach with a hot cabana boy giving us free massages... and an endless supply of piñas Coladas.” Naomi laughs, the sound almost lost in the chaos of the kitchen. Chefs shouting orders, Penelope and Bertrand panicking, plates being dropped—the world of catering is a noisy business.

“Cabana boys may have hot smoking bodies and virility, Lex, but they lack two essential qualities: prestige and money.”

“So, what you’re saying is that you’d prefer an old limp dick over a young hard one? Interesting,” I answer, teasing her.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying, smart ass. I’m saying I’d take a solid bank account over a solid dick. Think about it—with all that money, he could never fuck me at all, and I couldn’t care less. And I’d be treated properly. Rich guys know how to treat a lady.”

“Trust me on this, Naomi. Money has absolutely nothing to do with how a man treats a woman.” I should know. “In any case,” I retort, grabbing another tray of drinks, “if you’re looking for old rich guys, there are tons of opportunities out there.” I laugh at the dreamy look on her face, partly because it’s hilarious and partly because I know she’s kidding. After my training last night, she invited me to her house, where I met Theo, her little boy. He’s eight years old and the absolute love of her life.

“Speaking of fucking,” she says, her eyes sparkling, “did you see the Rys brothers? One of them is taken, but the other two are single and oh so yummy. Especially the tall and brooding one. I’ll kill for those smoldering brown eyes looking right at my soul”

I snort. “You really should stop reading romance novels, Nao. And yes. I served one of them and his girlfriend champagne earlier, but he was blond and didn’t have smoldering, brooding eyes. I thought they were only two brothers, though.”

“Well, technically, yes. But Constantine Rys --the super-rich owner of Rys Corporation-- adopted two other kids. A boy and a girl. They all grew up together.” She uncorks several champagne bottles as she speaks.

Now that my uniform is clean, I grab one of the Veuve Clicquot bottles and help her pouring the cold liquid into the glasses on our trays. “How do you know all of that?”

“I’m Cordonian, girl. The Rys siblings are almost royalty in this country. The one that is not an actual Rys is the one with the smoldering eyes. He doesn’t work for the company, though. He’s a … a vet, I think.”

A veterinarian like Drake. My stupid heart flutters when I think about him.

“Do we pay you to work or to gossip, ladies?” Penelope screams from the kitchen door.

Naomi and I roll our eyes and grab our refilled trays.

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

DRAKE

“This is a huge night for Liam,” Regina says behind her champagne glass. Constantine has been telling everyone, especially her, that he’s ready and happy to retire, but she knows him better than anyone. Leaving Rys Corporation and pass the torch to Liam is much more difficult for Constantine than he cares to admit.

“It’ll be all right, Regina. Don’t worry. Liam is more than ready to handle the responsibility.”

She throws a glance at Liam, who’s standing a few feet behind me next to his dad. “I just hope he doesn’t forget that his personal life is equally important. He and Hana work too hard.”

I’m about to answer when one of the waitresses distracts me. Her back is turned to me, so I can’t see her face, but there is something incredibly familiar about the way she moves. She’s passing drinks amongst Regina’s friends. I want to go and see who she is, but Liam catches my eyes across the room. We exchange a look, one that we’ve exchanged several times over our lives. It was Liam and me when we were younger, walking into his father’s office after getting into a fight at school. It was the two of us when we came home late, and his parents were waiting in the living room as we walked in, drunk. It was the two of us when we wrecked Leo’s new Porsche when we were sixteen, and right now, I know he needs me. Constantine is a great father, but he has too many expectations for his younger son. Liam needs a break.

Regina sees the exchange and smiles. “Liam’s very lucky to have you, Drake.” She is not our biological mother, but she loves all of us as if she was. And she’s more my mother than Bianca Walker will never be.

A couple of men look at me, and I try to remember if I should know them from somewhere. I think they’re both on the board of directors at RC. As much as I love the Rys, I will never get used to this shit. Socializing and pretending to like a bunch of people that annoy the fuck out of me. Ignoring them, I make my way to my best friend. Liam is standing with his hands in his pockets, looking serious and put together like the CEO of the largest company in Cordonia should.

“I think it’s going well,” he says as I approach. “Father was driving me crazy with all his advice.”

“It’s not only the anniversary of the company, Li. It’s also his first one as the former CEO. It’s normal he feels out of place.”

Liam nods. “I know. I just wish he’ll trust me more.”

“He does, Liam. He’s just nervous.”

I’m cut short by Liam’s grin. His gaze slides right behind me and lights up.

“Would either of you like a glass of champagne?” a female, very familiar voice nearly whispers behind me.

“I’m good,” Liam answers, looking at me out of the corner of his eye. “How about you, Drake?”

I turn around, and my heart skips a beat. Soft curves, tanned skin, and a few freckles across the bridge of her nose. The brightest, most amazing eyes I’ve ever seen. Alexis Ortiz tucks a strand of her rich brown hair behind her ear and takes a deep breath. Her eyes widen, and I see she recognizes me but doesn’t mention it. Instead, a faint smile ghosts her luscious lips, and she lifts her chin like she has a secret she won’t tell. A secret we share. Her gaze remains on Liam, almost like she’s afraid to look my way. Finally, she turns to me, and when she does, an adorable blush color her cheeks.

“Would you, uh, sir?” she asks, taking half a step backward.

“Would I what?” I press, enjoying too much the way her cheeks turn even pinker.

“Would you like a drink?” The words leave her lips fast like she wants to pronounce them and run away. I take a step towards her, remembering the night she spent in my arms and how damn perfect she felt. I know I make her nervous because I see little goosebumps erupting on her soft skin. I smirk at her. “That depends on what you’re offering.”

I shouldn’t be toying with her, but I can’t help it. I want to keep her talking, to watch her reactions, to see that sweet smile again.

“I don’t have much to offer,” she says, a hint of nervousness in her voice. “Unless you like champagne, sir.” She emphasizes the last word.

“I like all sorts of things.” I keep my gaze heavy against hers, not allowing her to look away. She fidgets with her tray and swallows hard but never takes her eyes off mine, too rebellious to look away. The longer our eyes match, the hotter my body becomes. She bits her delicious bottom lip slowly, her dark gaze boring into mine.

“Is that so?” Liam laughs beside me, and I watch her jump like she forgot he was there. Alexis clears her throat and glances around the room. She turns back to us again, this time a practiced smile on her face. The easy grin and soft laugh are both gone. She wants to get away from me, I can feel it, and I understand. She’s working; it wouldn’t be professional. This is not the time or the place to reconnect. Unfortunately for her, I have other plans.

“Gentlemen ...” With a nod, Alexis walks away as fast as possible. She doesn’t look back, but I watch her until she’s out of sight.

“What was that?” Liam snickers, loosening his gray silk tie. “I thought you were going to jump on her.”

I rub my thumb over my lip, still surprised as hell.

“That was Alexis, the girl I met a couple of months ago. Now, if you excuse me, Li, I need to go talk to Bertrand.”

@mskaneko @burnsoslow @gkittylove99 @kat-tia801 @no-one-u-know @thegreentwin @twinkle-320 @forallthatitsworth @kingliam2019 @marshmallowsandfire @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @princessleac1 @twinkleallnight @tinkie1973 @drakexwillow @moneyfordiamonds

@yukinagato2012 @alyssalauren

#drake x alexis #drake walker #drake walker fanfic #drake x mc #tw domestic violence

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xtrashmammalstefx · 4 years

Text

Stubborn Asshole (A Zak Bagans x Reader SMUT)

WARNINGS: Smut, language, possession

Special Thanks: To @xcazzax for being an awsome reader and source of inspiration. I couldn’t do this without you girly. 🥰

I love Aaron like a brother, don’t get me wrong, but DAMN HIM FOR BRINGING SUCH AN ASSHOLE INTO MY LIFE!

Douchey McGee: Hey Aaron said to message u.

He said: Get the fuck up Y/N!

Me: Tell him I said thnx and

and 2 not have the douche do

his dirty work.

Douchey McGee: Well fuck u 2 Y/N.

I sighed and crawled out of my hotel bed. We’d flown in late the previous night and I was still exhausted. I showered and got dressed in my ripped black skinny jeans, my black GAC shirt, and combat boots. I grabbed my hoodie and purse on the way out. Downstairs in the attached restaurant the rest of the crew were gathered for breakfast and much needed coffee.

“Morning gorgeous,” Aaron greeted.

“Fuck off Goodwin, I haven’t even had my coffee yet,” I said taking my seat beside him. “And by the way since when is boss man your own personal secretary.”

“And here I thought you didn’t know me as anything but Douche McGee, douche, or my personal favorite: Stubborn asshole son of a bitch.” Zak chimed in.

“Good morning to you too Satan,” I rolled my eyes.

I swear ever since we met Zak has made it his life mission to push my buttons in any way he can. But unfortunately for this psychotic fuck, two can play that game.

“Huh that’s original,” Zak continued.

I rolled my eyes and ordered an omelet with coffee. “So you gonna tell me when you decided to make boss man your bitch?” I asked Aaron.

“Well I figured I’ve been the bitch long enough so…” Aaron said.

“Dude, since when have I ever treated you like a bitch?” Zak asked.

“Every time you forced him to stay in a fucked up room by himself during an investigation like a fucking sadist?” I pointed out.

“Oh...right…” Zak said looking like he felt a tinge of guilt.

“Does that mean I’m a bitch too since he’s been doing the same thing to me lately?” Billy chimed in.

“Unfortunately,” I said just as my breakfast arrived arrived. “Oh, thanks.” I said to the waitress.

“Only you can go from bitchy to bubbly in zero seconds flat,” Zak said.

“Fuck you too, Bagans,” I muttered taking a bite of my omelet.

“Not in this life babe,” Zak muttered taking a sip of his coffee.

It continued like that even in the car on the way to the days location: Bly Manor. According to our sources Bly Manor was built in the 1800’s by Charles Bly, an Irish immigrant who made a fortune selling liquor and tobacco. By the time of the Civil War he decided to try his hand at weapons manufacturing which earned him enough to break ground on his dream house. He lived in the manor with his family. His wife Athena, and his daughter Josephine.

It said that on a sunny afternoon while do work in the Manor’s yard a man by the name of Bishop Wiley showed up and shot him dead. Supposedly Wiley’s son Robert was a soldier in the war and was killed by the very guns Charles helped build.

Charles has since been purported sighted walking the manor grounds. His wife Athena has been seen playing the piano, and wandering the halls. As for Josephine well… she was the most famous spirit of all.

“Josephine has been seen on the balcony of the Red Room,” explained our tour guide as we interviewed her. “The story goes that Josephine had met and fallen in love with a man at a nearby farm. And just before they were due to be married he left to fight in the war. She promised to wait for him there until his return. Hopeful that they could still marry and have a family. Sadly the man lost his life in Gettysburg. Charles felt so horrible he felt the need to keep it from her. So she continued to wait. And continues to wait to this very day.”

My heart ached for Josephine. It’s a whole other level of hell to lose someone so dear… I damn near jumped when I felt his hand on my shoulder.

“Hey, you okay?” Zak asked.

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine,” I said before following the tour guide.

We eventually took a break for lunch and then got ready for the investigation. Unlike most of the crew I made it a habit of carrying a small black backpack. I was just stuffing a recorder, spirit box, and MEL Meter when someone pat my shoulder.

“Hey are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Zak asked again.

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m good, um, why the niceties?”

“I may be an asshole sometimes but I do feel for people now and then,” he said.

“Even me?” I arched an eyebrow at him. Before he could answer Aaron barged in needing to grab a spare lens for the camera.

We continued prepping in silence and then slowly but eventually the sun went down and moon shined bright.

Aaron, Zak, and I went in together. We worked together as a group for a while before (in true Zak Bagans fashion) we split up.

“Y/N I want you to stay up here for a while and see if Josephine will communicate with you,” Zak said.

“Alright,” I said stepping out onto Josephine’s balcony. Zak and Aaron disappeared through the Red Room door and I took out my recorder. “Josephine, are you here?” I started. “If so do you think you could answer a few questions for me? I promise you I mean no harm. Just speak into this little device for me.”

I felt a chill in the air but continued. “Why are you still waiting for him?” I asked. “Don’t you think he’s waiting for you on the other side?”

I suddenly felt an overwhelming feeling of sadness and anxiety. I slid down to the ground and then... He promised me. I kept thinking for some odd reason. He promised...he promised we’d go...he promised on the stars...he promised we’d be together.

The thoughts kept coming, and I don’t know when it started but I only realized I was crying when I felt someone shake me violently. “Y/N TALK TO ME DAMMIT!!!”

Zak knelt in front of me looking freaked. “D-Don’t ever leave me,” I cried. “Please don’t ever leave me.”

“Josephine leave her alone, please,” Zak asked. “I know what happened to you was cruel and unfair but that doesn’t mean she should suffer like this.” Call me crazy but Zak actually sounded kind of pissed. There was another chill and he knelt beside me again. “I’m here sweetheart…” He whispered brushing my cheek with his hand. “I’m here.”

I looked up at him and saw a face that was not his. His hair was chocolate brown and barely touched his shoulders, his eyes the same. My heart took off in joy and I threw my arms around him. He squeezed me before pulling back and taking my face in his hands. “Promise not to disappear on me again?” I asked.

“I promise,” he muttered before bringing his lips to mine. We kissed passionately as though it was a long time coming. After a while it felt like a weight lifted off me and my legs became limp. “WHOA!”

Zak caught me. It was for sure him this time. I was suddenly more aware of things...more awake. “Zak...what? What happened?”

“I dunno,” he said. “But I’m getting you the fuck out of here.”

He scooped me up in his arms and carried me all the way to the GAC van.

“You know you didn’t have to carry me right?”

“Says the girl who just nearly passed out on me,” Zak said setting me down in the back of the van.

“Um Zak did you want us to edit out the last bit of her footage or..?” Billy asked awkwardly.

“Edit it out? Why?” Zak asked. Blushing furiously Billy replayed the footage from the night vision cam we had facing the balcony. It showed me slowly crumbling and then…

“Oh sweet fucking Jesus,” I groaned as Zak and I started making out on screen.

“Uh...yeah I don’t think we need to uh-*cough*-show that,” Zak said turning back to me. “Are you, uh, gonna be okay?”

“Um...yeah I think so,” I said not entirely meeting his eye. “You-uh-you go ahead. I’m just gonna chill with Billy the rest of the night.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Now go before I drag you back in by your balls,” I threatened.

“Oh yeah you’re gonna be fine,” he said turning his back on me.

“You know you two are actually kinda hot together,” Billy said.

“What? Are you high? Zak and I can barely stand each other,” I said.

“Bull-fucking-shit Y/N,” Billy laughed. “We all can see there is insane tension going on between you. We just don’t get why you guys haven’t done anything about it.”

“What are we the hot gossip going around the office or something?”

“I mean, if this almost-porno is anything to go by...then yeah.”

“Billy I swear to God if I catching you jerking off to that—.”

“You’ll cut my nuts off I know,” he finished for me. “Besides I would never in hell jerk off to my best friend and his girl. It’s too weird.”

“I’m not his girl,” I snapped at him.

“Whatever you say Y/N,” Billy laughed. “Now did you wanna review this evidence with me or..?”

And so I did.

Once the investigation ended we packed up, caught a few minutes sleep then made our way back to Vegas.

Billy, Jay, and Aaron were dropped off first. Then it was just me and Zak.

Aaron: Try not to kill Zak please.

Me: No promises.

Zak then pulled up to my place.

“Are we never gonna talk about it?” I asked as he parked.

“What’s there to say?” he asked. “It-It was a freak incident. We-we weren’t ourselves.”

“True you were actually nice for once,” I said sarcastically.

Zak glared at me. “Go fuck yourself, Y/N.”

“Fuck me yourself you coward,” I blurted out. “I mean...um...fuck!” I sighed and stepped out of the car. I had just unlocked my door when…

“Y/N!” I turned around and saw Zak running up to me.

“Wha―” I was cut off by Zak slamming his lips to mine.

He kissed me hard, as though he was relieving an ache deep within his heart. I kissed back and clumsily opened my door. Zak picked me up, wrapping my legs around his waist and carried me to my bedroom. He placed me on the bed and I reached up to pull his shirt off. I tossed it aside and eventually more articles of clothing followed.

Zak laid me back on the bed and started pecking a trail of kisses all the way down to my heat. A moan escaped my lips as he kissed and sucked on me. “HO-HOLY SHIT!”

To say Zak knew what he was doing would be an understatement. He didn’t stop eating me until I was writhing beneath him. “Z-ZAK!” My back arched and my toes curled up in the most powerful orgasm of my life.

He crawled back up to me, smirking. “Not much of an asshole anymore, am I?”

“Oh shut up,” I brought my lips back to his as I ran my hand up and down his length which like the rest of him was thick and hard. I suddenly felt him move my hand before he reached down and placed himself at my entrance. He kissed me once more before pushing in. “FUCK! How the fuck have you been single this long?”

“Demons tends to be excellent cock blocks,” Zak said as he started to thrust. “Lucky for us, they tend to stay away from you.”

“R-Really?”

He grunted then nodded. Despite his big, tough, persona Zak was actually really sensual and passionate in bed. He kept his thrusts gentle (probably because he knew his above average size could inflict some damage if he wasn’t careful) until I urged him to go faster and harder. After a while he flipped us over so that I was on top. I rode him hard, and Zak, being a gentleman, helped me out by thrusting up into me as I did.

The tension began building up inside me. “Fuck...Zak I-I think I’m gonna…” It hit me like a wave. I tightened around him, arching my back, and damn near screaming his name.

Zak flipped us over again and continued thrusting until he grew sloppy. I suddenly felt him twitch inside me as he cursed and groaned. His body shuttered as he painted my womb with his seed. Finally he collapsed beside me, both of us breathless.

“Wow,” I said.

“I know,” Zak said.

Once my breathing was under control I turned to him. “So...what now?”

He looked over at me.

“I guess we just be together,” he said. “It’s kind of what you do when you’re insanely in love with someone.”

“You’re in love with me?” I asked.

“I’ve always been in love with you,” he smiled. “Ever since we met...I just didn’t want the spirits in my life to hurt you so I decided to keep you away.”

“What changed?”

“Besides that they for some reason stay away from you?” I nodded. “I was tired of letting them get in the way of what I want. I was tired of being away from you.” He draped his arm over my waist. “I love you.” He muttered.

“I love you too,” I said pecking him on his swollen lips.

We spent almost every day together after that. It’s been a year and we are still together. Life was the same for the most part. We still investigated places, while not in bed or spending time with each other. The guys were relieved to see us together (at last) until our PDA became a little too much for them to handle. Oh and there was one other difference as well…

“Y/N BAGANS COME GET YOUR MAN HE’S BEING FUCKING TERRIFYING AGAIN!” Aaron shouted at me through the walkie.

“What happened to having the preggo investigator hang back all night?” I asked rubbing my stomach. Zak made everyone swear not to let me into the buildings with malicious spirits and demons.

“Y/N please,” Aaron begged.

I sighed and looked down. “Aaron Nicholas Bagans for the love of god don’t be a stubborn asshole like your daddy.”

With that I exited the van and went to save the love of my life.

#zak bagans #zak bagans x reader #zak bagans imagine #Smut

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missmis · 3 years

Text

I’ve been having a lot of heated debates recently over which actors are the best in certain roles, so I thought long and hard about my ideal Les Mis cast.

For some roles, I have several actors (mainly Enjolras, because every guy who’s ever played him seems to be gorgeous). For some roles, there is only one person who just IS that character to me.

Now without further ado, here we go:

Jean Valjean: Alfie Boe, always. He perfectly conveys Valjean’s transition from angry convict to noble and almost saintly, plus his voice still gives me chills every time. I could write an entire post exclusively on the sheer perfection of his high note at the end of “Bring Him Home”, but that is a subject for another day. Honourable mention: John Owen-Jones because his voice is incredible, too-but he overdoes it on the anger sometimes.

Javert: ooh, that’s a tough one. I’d say it’s probably a tie between Earl Carpenter (who has the warmest and most powerful baritone ever) and Norm Lewis, who does the cold-hearted arrogance perfectly. Honourable mention: Richard Woodford, who used to be Grantaire and Javert’s understudy ages ago. Most people probably won’t know him, but he is honestly amazing- and a lovely guy.

Fantine: Carrie Hope Fletcher. Her voice can be powerful or soft as needed and she really captures Fantine’s pain. Honourable mention: Lea Salonga, whose voice is also gorgeous, but whose acting I find a little exaggerated sometimes.

Éponine: Samantha Barks will always be the one true Éponine for me. Her voice is incredible, she looks right (because in my head, Éponine is always dark-haired) and she portrays the whole unrequited love thing to perfection. And yes, I may possibly have a tiny crush on her... Or a big one.

Cosette: Honestly, Cosette always annoyed the heck out of me until I discovered Lily Kerhoas. She’s completely lovestruck-as the character should be- but she manages to turn Cosette into an actual person and not just a one-dimensional teenager who was put in to make all the guys look better. And that is honestly a huge accomplishment. Honourable mention: Amanda Seyfried, although her incredibly high soprano is a bit too much for my ears.

Marius: I loved Eddie Redmayne’s portrayal in the film version. His general adorable shyness steals my heart every time. I also love Rob Houchen, who has a gorgeous voice and who captures the innocence of the character. And Gareth Gates does hands down the best version of “A Little Fall of Rain” I’ve ever seen, because he actually seems to care that Éponine just died, unlike many other actors who’ve played this role.

Enjolras: As I said, there are so many amazing people who have played him. But if I had to choose one, it’d probably be Bradley Jaden (and no, I’m not just saying that because his man bun is a blessing to this fandom). I love his passion and the sheer power he brings to the character. Aaron Tveit is also up there with my favourites-he may not be the greatest singer, but he looks exactly like Book Enjolras and he gets that coldness and indifference-especially towards poor Grantaire- just right. Then there’s Killian Donnelly whose Irish accent I absolutely adore. Oh and lastly, Ramin Karimloo, of course-he may not look like your classical Enjolras, but the light of rebellion is ablaze in his eyes :)

Monsieur Thénardier: the one and only, the inimitable Matt Lucas. He is simply hilarious, which is actually kind of an ethical issue, because he almost makes me like Monsieur T. And every time someone says “Cosette”, I now hear “Courgette” in my head, which is entirely his fault.

Madame Thénardier: Katy Secombe. She’s mean, she’s funny, she’s brash, her facial expressions are everything and her voice can knock you off your feet. Especially great in combination with Matt Lucas. Honestly, I’d pay to see these two do stand-up comedy together.

Gavroche: Also a tough one. My favourite is probably Daniel Huttlestone in the film, just because he’s so adorable I want to adopt him. I also love Robert Madge’s mischievous and cocky Gavroche in the 25th and recently, Logan Clark, whose antics give me life.

Grantaire: He’s my favourite character, so I’m kind of picky about who plays him. Only two guys have found mercy before my eyes. One: George Blagden, whose pining for Enjolras was the only thing that kept me watching the film. I will never stop being pissed that they cut his solo in “Drink With Me”. Two: Keith Anthony Higham. He has the richest voice ever and he just gets Grantaire-the cynicism, the drama and the unrequited love thing. If you haven’t already, watch his 2008 version of “Drink With Me” with David Thaxton. Thank me later.

Courfeyrac: Fra Fee- I love his passion and his friendship with Gavroche in the film. Plus, he has a beautiful voice. Also the guy from the 2019 staged concert- I believe his name is Michael Sheehy, but I could be wrong. He is honestly hilarious.

Combeferre: Killian Donnelly. He gets the whole slightly-exasperated-by-all-of-these-irresponsible-idiots professorial vibe. And he has a very powerful voice.

Feuilly: Matthew Gent because of his lovely soft singing and his funny-as-hell facial expressions.

Joly: Jamie Muscato, who is just such an adorable goofball.

Bossuet/Lesgles/Laigle/the dude with a hundred different names: I don’t know the guy’s name, but he’s in the 25th. Firstly, because he’s actually bald and thus, about ten times more accurate than most other portrayals and secondly, because his voice is warm and soft and it’s actually a shame he hasn’t got more lines to sing.

Bahorel: Again, the dude from the movie- Iwan Lewis, I think he’s called. Just the right amount of recklessness.

Jehan Prouvaire: I haven’t really found anyone I like in this role yet. I’m not that big a fan of Alistair Brammer for some reason, so if someone could help me out here, I’d be grateful.

The Bishop: Also Earl Carpenter, because his voice is-for lack of a better description-like a nice, warm blanket. And I like Colm Wilkinson in this role, too.

I hope I haven’t missed any characters. If I have, please do point them out to me. I hope you’ve enjoyed my analysis- I tried to make it about more than just “Oh, I like this person because they’re hot”. Feel free to share your own opinions and remember: these are just my subjective ones.

#les mis #les miz #les misérables #les amis #jean valjean #fantine les mis #éponine #marius pontmercy #javert

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itjazzbicch · 3 years

Text

The Last Laugh PT. 3

Pairing: Kenny Omega x Fem Reader

Summary: Continuing from my Last Laugh Series (In my wattpad which is in bio):

The reader and Kenny are now realizing their true feelings for one another, but the Young Bucks still have their questions due to previous events, trying to crack the reader but when they fail, they test Kenny...

Warnings: N/A

Requested by: No one (But I hope you all enjoy!)

Word Count: 2784

Tag List: @demonqueen29 @jessiebean00 @new-zealand-chic @crowleysqueenofhell @justamess44 @thatpanpal @hungmanhorsecarriage @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @linziland13 @yungbludjazz360

I DO NOT OWN THIS GIF

[You coming over not? I have a big match tonight you know] I sent to Kenny.

I thought I’d never see the day, but Kenny and I were getting along, getting very close and having true feelings for each other rather than just going at it.

[Just give me a few minutes. I’ll be over] Kenny sent back.

I had a championship match tonight and Kenny said he wanted to see me before since he couldn’t escort me out himself.

Since he had to take his time, I patiently waited for him. There were still some things for me to do. I just got out of hair and make-up, my gear still needed to be adjusted, so I just sat in my locker room waiting.

Kenny didn’t take as long as I thought he was going to, quickly turning to my phone when I heard it vibrating consistently.

“You finally coming over?” I asked, holding my phone up to my ear as I was still fixing my boots.

“Sure am!” Kenny said cheerfully, “You ready for the night?”

“Always ready,” I smirked, sitting up straight.

“You always have been,” Kenny cooed, but then there was silence. After a moment, Kenny whispered into the phone, “Hey, give me a second.”

Kenny didn’t hang up, but it sounded as if he put his phone in his pocket, it was muffled, but I heard Matt.

“Kenny, we have an interview and some other stuff to take care of. Where are you going?” Matt questioned.

From the sound of Kenny’s voice, he was remaining calm when he sighed, “You guys realize that I am a champion across three different companies, right? The champion is a very busy man.”

“Yeah, but we already had this planned dude,” Nick groaned, but Kenny didn’t budge, explaining:

“A few minutes delay isn’t going to ruin anything, okay? A few minutes is all I need. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have business to attend to.”

“You know,” Matt said, sounding like a stand-off was ready to happen, “I have heard that phrase before and I’m convinced that it’s a code word of some sorts.”

Kenny scoffed at his comment, groaning, “Where else have you heard that from?”

“Remember when Y/N tried being a bitch again out in the parking lot? Well later that night, we coincidentally ran into her again. She told us that she had business to attend to. Said it just like you did,” Matt pointed out, Nick adding:

“And how strange it was that your phone kept going straight to voicemail that night and she also went up to the floor of your hotel room.”

Kenny was always good at getting around sticky situations, laughing at them at first, “Aren’t the two of you observant!” But then, his voice grew serious when he continued, “Look, you two are just letting mind games get to you. Now, I have business to do. I’m not going to stand here and play into your conspiracies.”

After that, the phone hung up. I was on the same page as Kenny. They sure were nosey and it angered him. I could tell by the tone of his voice.

This week, I got myself a private locker room and no one knew where it was except for Kenny, so I left the door unlocked.

When Kenny entered, he was stressed and I addressed it.

“I heard everything, Kenny,” I informed him.

Kenny had both hands on his hips, still frustrated, groaning, “They are like brothers to me but damn, they need to mind their business!”

Quickly, I went to Kenny, pulling his face towards me so I could look in his eyes, saying, “What they don’t know won’t kill them. They are kind of catching on and hell, even if they figure it out!

They will prove their loyalty and accept your decisions.”

“They just don’t realize how things have changed,” Kenny whispered, “I know they can tell. They just won’t face it.”

“I agree, but right now, we have bigger things to worry about,” I sighed, smiling, “I do appreciate you coming back here to support me.”

“Believe me, I wish I could escort you out there,” Kenny smiled back, looking down at me, “And then bring you back here and get you out of that gear.”

“Hey, my shower is big enough for the two of us,” I chuckled, laughing more when Kenny said:

“First handcuffs, now shower sex? You sure are creative.”

“That’s only the beginning baby,” I cooed, raising up a bit to kiss him, Kenny returning my kiss, putting an even bigger smile on my face.

“But in all seriousness,” Kenny whispered against my lips, “I am proud that you are a fighting champion. I know you’ll kick ass out there.”

“Don’t I always?” I snickered, “Tonight, I’ll even step it up, just for you.”

“I’ll be watching so you better live up to that,” Kenny warned me playfully.

“I always live up to the hype,” I sighed, kissing him one more time.

Kenny stayed in the locker room with me for a bit longer, we even went over some exercises to get me in the zone and I was ready.

I had about seven minutes to get to the guerrilla and Kenny already took off, so I made my way there with my title on my shoulder.

I was laser-focused, confident like always, but on my way to the guerrilla, someone was there to give me “support”.

“Y/N!” Matt smiled, approaching me with Nick right behind him, “There’s our reigning, defending, women’s champion!”

“For once, I agree with you,” I smiled in his face and I could see how it angered them.

“Unlike Matt, I’m not going to play these games anymore,” Nick said sternly, “We know what you’re trying to do to Kenny.”

“Thank you, Nick,” Matt smiled at me, “We know you’re just trying to hurt him. It’s Japan all over again. Not to mention that little fight you keep mentioning .”

Even I couldn’t deny it, My rivalry with Kenny in Japan was intense, but as Kenny said earlier, things were different and I wasn’t going to let Nick and Matt get the better of me.

At first, I just laughed but getting serious when I said, “You two are just delusional. I have no intentions with Kenny. So what I poke some fun at him every now and then. Rivalries just don’t end you know. And that fight? Again, Kenny is the one who needs to tell you. Not me.”

“We know what’s happening,” Matt growled, stepping up to me, “I’ve seen all the signs and you might think we’re stupid, but you are rudely mistaken.”

“Whatever you say, boys,” I sighed, rolling my eyes.

I didn’t have time for their interrogations and bullshit. My title was on the line and I was facing Tay Conti, a very good female wrestler who I could not underestimate.

My match went exactly like how I imagined it would. It was all straight-up wrestling. We showed that it was main event worthy and we tore the house down.

The only thing that kept slowing me down is her constant attacks on my left arm. It all began whenever she rammed me into the steel ring post.

I was truly afraid that I separated my shoulder or something, the moment I fell to the ground, holding my arm, the referee and some medical staff tried tending to me.

Like always, my stubbornness took over. I refused to quit this match, crying through the pain when I got back up and into the ring.

Everyone thought I was crazy, but I still kept going, using my striking and my legs to the best of my abilities.

Towards the end of our match, Tay had me in an armbar on my injured arm and everyone watched in shock whenever I yelled through the pain, picking up her entire body with my bad arm, power slamming her on the mat.

My arm needed a moment. I didn’t even bother to go to cover her for the pin. The ropes assisted me to my feet, Tay getting up at the same time.

We met in the center of the ring and she went to hit me with a kick but I ducked it, running to the ropes, coming back and dodging again but the next time I came back, I hit her with a devastating, jumping knee strike, similar to Kenny’s V-Trigger and I pinned Tay, retaining my title.

The entire crowd were on their feet and cheering me while I sat on the mat, taking my title and holding it close, sitting still while the referee was checking out my arm again, but then we were all confused, looking to the stage when we heard:

“SUPER-KICK PARTYYYYY!”

I literally couldn’t believe it when I stood up, turning around to see Nick and Matt on stage.

“Wow! So impressive! That is one of the best women’s matches I’ve seen!” Matt smiled, Nick following with:

“So much technical wrestling. I loved it!”

“Y/N, you have beaten just about every female on the roster. I appreciate you wanting to be all about the women’s division,” Matt began, “But remember back in Japan when you wrestled in the men’s division?”

“That was crazy times,” Nick smirked devilishly, “And unfortunately for you, Y/N, you left some unfinished business in Japan and now it followed you to AEW.”

I was just in shock. My arm was killing me, I just wrestled my ass off and now they were doing this, live on television!

“You said it yourself, rivalries never really end and ours sure as hell hasn’t ended yet,” Matt growled at me and after that, I had enough, requesting a microphone.

“Are you kidding me? I just wrestled my ass off and you want to come out here, trying to pull up dirty laundry that happened forever ago!” I yelled at them, my anger controlling me when I said,

“I can tell you’re in a fighting mood and I am pretty pissed off! You wanna fight? Get your asses in this ring! I dare you! I’ll kick both of your asses just like I did in Japan!”

Slowly, Nick and Matt walked to the ring and I got into a fighting position, but I knew something was off. They were anticipating something, but after a moment, they rushed into the ring and I didn’t back down whatsoever.

Right, when they got to me, I was ready to swing, but then we all got knocked over. For a moment, the adrenaline in me died and all of the pain from my shoulder hit me hard.

Quickly, I rolled over into the corner, not caring that I was crying, but watching whenever I saw that it was Kenny. He didn’t intend to knock me over, he was protecting me and that’s when I realized what Matt and Nick were doing. They were testing Kenny.

“What the hell are you doing?” Matt yelled at Kenny, standing up and getting in his face.

Kenny delivered that fire right back, forehead to forehead with Matt, yelling back:“What the hell are YOU doing?!”

Everything was just a mess, everyone so confused as to what was happening, Nick yelling to Kenny:

“Tell us the truth, Kenny!”

Quickly, Matt pushed Kenny away, yelling at him, “Tell us now!”

“You want to know the truth?” Kenny yelled, looking back at both of them, his face so red from anger, taking everyone by surprise, which included me when he yelled at the top of his lungs, it echoing through the arena, “I LOVE HER! I ALWAYS HAVE GOT DAMN IT!”

We all just froze my heart about burst through my chest.

“Oh my god,” I whispered, still crying especially when Kenny turned back and saw the condition I was in.

At that moment, Kenny just forgot about Matt and Nick, tending to me instead. I had previous shoulder injures so I was truly concerned about my condition.

“It’s your bad shoulder isn’t it?” Kenny asked quickly and I just nodded my head, crying:

“It hurts so bad.”

“Don’t worry, I’m going to get you taken care of,” Kenny assured, taking my other arm, “You have to get up though.”

Again, I was fighting through the pain, standing up and grabbing my title, still across the ring from Nick and Matt. I still wanted to fight them for the scene they just caused, but Kenny killed that whenever he pointed at them, saying:

“I’ll handle the both of you later.”

Finally, Kenny and I left the ring, taking me back to get the medical attention that I needed. They were checking out my shoulder, multiple tests needed to be done and that scared me.

I was grateful that Kenny didn’t leave my side, but there was a moment that he needed to have whenever we heard outside the door.

“Can someone please tell Kenny to come to talk to us?”

It was Matt.

Kenny rolled his eyes, turning red again because he was still super upset with them but he stood up, giving me a quick kiss, “I’ll be right back.”

He left the door crack and even though they kept their voices low, I could still hear everything.

“So, you love her, huh?” Nick asked, truly curious rather than being a smart ass.

“Have you two ever noticed how in Japan, I’m the one who started the beef with her? All the sly little comments we’d make? How we never took our fights seriously?” Kenny sighed, “Since the day I met her, I’ve wanted her. I just didn’t know how to do it.”

“Kenny, I’ll be the first to say, we’re sorry,” Matt explained, “We just thought that you two legitimately hated each other and when you two got close all of a sudden, we just wanted to have your back. I didn’t want to have to do that, but you just weren’t telling us!”

“Well maybe you should have taken the fact that we were taking things slowly into consideration,” Kenny scoffed, still upset with them.

“You’re right, Kenny,” Nick sighed, “Again, we’re sorry, and just know that we love you, man. If you want to be with Y/N, I’m all for it.”

“Me too,” Matt agreed, nodding his head.

I could see them hugging and it made me feel good. They had brotherhood and I never intended to break that. I just wanted to be with Kenny and it was good to know that he wanted the same with me.

“How’s her shoulder?” Nick asked and Kenny just sighed, his hand covering his face for a moment.

“Not going to lie, I’m worried for her. She had to have surgery on that shoulder before,” Kenny huffed, “They’re making her do a bunch of testing for it.”

“God I feel like shit,” Matt whined, then he just came through the door and he hugged me.

“Dude, my shoulder,” I said quickly, but also laughing as he backed away, mumbling;

“Right, I’m sorry about that.”

“Y/N, we owe you a long overdue apology. What we did tonight was wrong and irresponsible,” Nick admitted to me, “We shouldn’t have tried to invade your privacy.”

“I understand why you did,” I sighed, poking some fun at them when I added, “Besides, fucking with you guys is always a fun time.”

We all shared a good laugh, Nick giving me a soft hug too.

“Also, just know, that match was fucking awesome,” Matt smirked at me, “I wasn’t lying about that. You’re an amazing champion Y/N.”

“Thanks. Hopefully, I don’t have to give it up,” I sighed, looking down at my shoulder.

“Everything will be just fine,” Kenny smiled at me, trying to raise my spirits, and then finally, we had a true, one on one session whenever Matt said:

“I hope you feel better, Y/N. Nick, let’s go. They need alone time.”

Nick and Matt finally went off and closed the door behind them and once we were alone, Kenny was still standing in front of me while I was sitting.

Slowly I looked up into his eyes, getting emotional whenever I asked shyly, “You’ve always loved me, Kenny?”

With a bright smile, Kenny nodded his head and just to brighten our moods when I said:

“I fucking knew it!”

We both laughed together, Kenny hugging me and being gentle and when his head came close to me, I whispered, “I’ve always loved you too, Kenny.”

“I’m serious, Y/N. I love you. I just never knew how to express it. Then next thing I knew, we were the biggest rivals in Japan,” Kenny exhaled.

“That doesn’t matter anymore. We have each other now and I’m serious when I tell you, I love you,” I whispered, my arm wrapping around his neck.

Kenny gave a little bit of a squeeze and when he looked back up at me, his eyes looked teary but a gorgeous smile was on his face, his head falling to kiss me softly, whispering against my lips,

“No more hiding it. You’re mine and that’s never going to change.”

I quickly smiled against our kiss, kissing a bit harder, whispering back, “Just how I want it to be.”

#wrestling #wrestling fic #wrestling imagine #aew #aew imagine #aew fic #kenny omega #kenny omega x reader #kenny omega imagine #kenny omega fic #read and enjoy

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 3 years

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Eccentricity [Chapter 14: Love Keeps The Monsters From Our Door] [Series Finale]

A/N: Thank you for your encouragement, enthusiasm, laughter, rants, screeches of anguish, and unapologetic thirsting for “sexy undead Italian man” Joseph Francis Mazzello. I hope you love this conclusion more than Baby Swan loves pineapple pizza. 💜

Series Summary: Potentially a better love story than Twilight?

Chapter Title Is A Lyric From: “Til I Die” by Parsonsfield. (The #1 song I associate with this fic!)

Chapter Warnings: Language.

Word Count: 7.7k.

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii @bramblesforbreakfast @maggieroseevans @culturefiendtrashqueen @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @escabell @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhyee @deacyblues @tensecondvacation @brianssixpence @some-major-ishues @haileymorelikestupid @youngpastafanmug @simonedk @rhapsodyrecs

Mercy

We have to stay in the Vladivostok palace until her transformation is complete, and I hate it.

The floors are cold and sterile and every clang of noise ricochets off them like a bullet. The earth outside is stripped bare and hibernal. There is no green to interrupt the bleakness of the sky, the cruel absence of color: no spruces or hemlocks or bigleaf maples, no evergreen forests, no verdant fields, only a grey that bleeds from the sky in sheets of hail and driving rain. This land is a stranger. So many of the faces, too, are strangers, although they try. Honora sits with me—her large dark eyes, like mirrors of mine, polished and wet with aching pity—and braids my hair. Morana invites me to bake homemade bread with her. Austin tries to make me smile. Cato visits me as much as he can, because he feels responsible; or maybe he would do it anyway, maybe lessening suffering is as instinctual to him as bloodshed is to so many of our kind. And when Cato is with me, I do feel a little better, like my story might belong to somebody else, like it’s a name I can’t quite remember, like it’s a transitory moment of déjà vu I can catch glimpses of but never touch. And yet, still, I send him away.

I don’t want to be with Cato. It’s painful for him to be around me, I can see that. It’s painful for Rami, and for Ben, and for Joe, and for Lucy and Scarlett. It’s even painful for the Irish Wolfhounds that Cato found locked up for safekeeping in Larkin’s study; they skulk around the palace vigilantly but leave great swaths of uninterrupted space around me like open water. So I conjure up a mask of brave, hopeful acceptance and wear it everywhere I go.

Joe says very little, never leaves the girl he calls Baby Swan’s side, dabs her scorching skin with washcloths soaked in ice water and murmurs in sympathy when she screams through the unconsciousness, from beneath the ocean of fire we all know so well. He nods off sometimes, snatching minutes of sleep like fireflies in a jar, before jolting awake to make sure her heart is still beating. When Ben isn’t checking on them, he’s with Cato, helping to draw up plans for the future, reminiscing about the past with slick eyes and clinking midnight glasses of whiskey. Scarlett sprawls across the desk in what was once Larkin’s study and spends hours on the phone with Archer as she gazes up at the ceiling, telling him how to care for the farm animals and the garden, reassuring him that we’ll be home soon, whispering things to him that I try not to hear; and I know she wouldn’t want me to anyway. Lucy weeps delicate, ceaseless tears as she perches on the staircase landing and Rami entombs her in his arms, never having to ask what she needs from him. And I wander meaninglessly through the echoing, unfamiliar hallways like a moon without a planet.

I know what they all think about me, perhaps even Rami, for I keep it buried as deep as all skeletons should be: that I’m irrevocably kind, effortlessly forgiving. That I’m as incapable of bitterness as I am of aging. But they’re wrong. It’s a choice, and it always has been, ever since a late-November dusk in 1864 when madness eclipsed mercy. Every day I choose whether to surrender to the beckoning, malignant hatred that lurks in the back of my bedroom closet, in the dusty and ill-lit loft of the barn roped with cobwebs, in the twilight tree line of the western hemlocks crawling with shadows that whisper through fanged teeth. Every day I decide whether to become a monster. And it has never been harder to remember why I don’t.

My future is unimaginable. The nights are endless. I feel black, razored seeds of what I am horrified must be bitterness burrowing beneath my skin and taking root there. I am consumed by infected, fruitless questions that I can’t silence: Why Gwilym? Why Arthur? Why Eliza and Charlotte? Why is it always fire?

The first words that Gwilym ever spoke to me, as I unraveled from unconsciousness under a grove of sycamore trees with smoke still clinging to my unscarred skin, rattle around in my skull like windchimes beneath thunderous skies. His voice was colored with an accent I couldn’t place, and yet it sounded like home: You’re in a dark place right now. But you don’t have to stay there.

That might have been true once. That might have been true in the ruinous autumn of 1864. But now I can’t find my way out.

Seventy-three hours after our arrival in this barren corner of the world, Charlie Swan’s daughter wakes up as a vampire. Her heart is perfectly still, her skin faultless, her senses sharp, her mind as impenetrable as ever; at least, that’s what Lucy says when she finds me. And Lucy tugs at my hand, wearing her first smile in days, insisting that I have to come meet the newest member of our coven, to welcome her. I don’t know how to tell Lucy that I’m afraid I don’t have it in me to love this girl, that I don’t have it in me to love anyone but ghosts. And yet—compliantly, yieldingly, expecting nothing but disappointment in the monster I have become—I follow her.

The door is already open to the Swan girl’s room; chattering, beaming vampires flood in and out like the tides. I step inside. And I see the way that Joe looks at her, the way that Ben does; and all those seeds that I had feared might be bitterness blossom into nothing but open air.

It’s Not A Fucking Wedding (A.K.A. 13.5 Months Later)

The ocean is a universe. Its arms are not ever-expanding, spiraling galaxies of suns and planets and nebulae and black holes, this is true; its belly is not a vacuum of inhospitable oblivion, its bones are not invisible strings of gravity, its language is not a silence older than starlight, older than eternity. But the ocean is a universe nonetheless, its borders tucked neatly around the seven continents, slumbering there until the next hurricane or tsunami or ice age comes conquering; and inevitably equilibrium is restored—like defibrillator paddles to a heart, like naloxone to an addict’s blood—and our two worlds can coexist side by side once again.

The ocean’s arms are sighing waves, bubbling and brisk, grasping and retreating in the same breath. Its belly is swollen with life from immense blue whales down to swarming clouds of single-celled, sun-hungry phytoplankton. Its language is ancient whispers; not parched and blistering and brittle sounds like the desert’s but cool, serene, supple, engulfing. And I can hear them all, if I listen closely enough. I can hear the sentient whistling of orcas, the breaking of waves against rocks, the scrabbling of sand crabs beneath the earth, the gruff distant barks of sea lions, the rustling of evergreen pine needles in the breeze. And I understand now why it was always so easy for vampires to be introspective, to lapse into thoughtful, unhurried silences. I could imagine spending decades just sitting here with my knees tucked to my chest and my hair whipping in the brackish wind, watching the seasons roll by like a wheel.

Joe was coming back from the gravel parking lot. I turned to watch him: red U Chicago hoodie, messy dark auburn-ish hair, a pizza box clasped in his hands. The GrubHub delivery driver was returning to his car with the toothiest of grins.

“Buon appetito!” Joe announced, dramatically presenting me with the pizza box. It had become our post-finals tradition each semester: pizza at La Push beach, half-pepperoni, half-pineapple.

“Grazie, sexy undead Italian man. Your accent is getting so good!”

“I know, right?! I’m on a twelve-day Duolingo streak. I can’t let that little green owl dude down.”

“I’m impressed, I’ll admit it. I gotta brush up on my Welsh. Why’s the GrubHub driver so cheery?”

“I tipped him $500.”

I smiled, opening the box and lifting out a semi-warm slice of pineapple pizza. Elastic strands of mozzarella cheese stretched like rubber bands until they snapped. “Aww, really?”

Joe plopped down onto the cool, damp sand beside me. “No. I lied. We’re actually having a torrid love affair.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “How could you possibly have time for all that?” Between school, business ventures, family activities, and me, Joe was very rarely unoccupied. And he preferred it that way.

“I’m so glad you asked. I’m very speedy, if you recall. And that’s just one of the exclusive services I offer. I am a man of many talents. I make people’s wildest dreams come true. Who am I to deny the GrubHub delivery man the wonderland that is my spindly, annoying body?”

“You are the fastest,” I said, winking.

“Oh shut up! I mean, uh, uhhh, silenzio!” He pointed his slice of pepperoni pizza at me reproachfully. “That’s not what I meant. I’m not the fastest at everything.”

“Whatever you say, mob guy.”

He lunged for me, pinned me down in the crumbling sand, both of us laughing wildly as the crusts of our pizza slices bounded off and were snatched up by diving, screeching seagulls. He growled with mock savagery, braced his hips against mine, kissed his way from the corner of my jaw to my lips. That oh-so-familiar commanding, craving ache for him came roaring to the surface; and now there was no bittersweet edge to it, no inescapable backdrop of lambent numbers ticking down from five or ten or fifteen years to zero. Now there was only the calm, unurgent promise of forever.

“Joe—!”

“You have besmirched my honor, Baby Swan. I am left with no recourse but to refresh your clearly flawed memory and prove you wrong.”

“Public indecency? That’s illegal, sir.”

“Okay, you gotta stop stealing my catchphrases. It’s extremely difficult for me to come up with new ones. I’m almost a hundred years old, you know.”

“Alright, I guess you’re not bad in bed for a basically-centenarian.”

He smiled down at me, his dark eyes alight, the wind tearing through his hair, one palm resting on my forehead, uncharacteristically quiet.

“What?” I asked, worried.

“Nothing,” he said. “I’m just really glad we’re a thing.”

“You better be. You’re kind of stuck with me now. You’ve stolen my virtue, you’ve made me fall in love with your entire demented family, you’ve forced your torturous immortality upon me. I’m not going anywhere. Unless you ever stop funding my pineapple pizza addiction, of course.”

Joe chuckled as he climbed off me and took my hand in his, pulling me upright. “It’s absolutely ridiculous, by the way. Your insistence on being a sort-of vegetarian. It’s embarrassing. You’re the wimpiest vampire ever. You’re a disgrace to the coven.”

“I eat animals!” I objected.

“Yeah, when you have to.” And Joe was right: I steered clear of flesh outside of the two or three times a week when I hunted. For environmental sustainability reasons, I mostly consumed deer or rabbits; although the very occasional shark was my guilty pleasure. Joe gnawed on his second slice of pizza and peered out into the overcast, dusky horizon, wiping crumbs from his stubbled chin with the back of his hand. “We only have one more of these left,” he said at last, a little sadly. “One more finals season at Calawah University. One more celebratory dinner at La Push.”

“We’ll just have to get used to a new view. Pizza by the Chicago River, maybe.”

Joe looked over at me, thoughtful again, smiling. He had received his acceptance letter to the University of Chicago three weeks ago. I got mine eight days later. “It won’t be hard for you to leave Forks?”

“It will be. Once upon a time I didn’t think that was possible, but I will miss Forks. And not just because of Charlie and Archer and Jessica and Angela and all the Lees. But it was hard to leave Phoenix, and I’m sure one day it will be hard to leave Chicago. Just because change is hard doesn’t mean it’s not the right thing to do.”

Joe nodded introspectively. “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.”

“Don’t quote classic rock songs at me, mixtapes boy.”

“You love my mixtapes,” he teased, circling his left arm around my waist, pulling me in closer, touching his lips to my forehead. Mint and pine and starlight sank into my lungs like an anchor through the surf. “And that saying actually goes all the way back to Seneca, my dear.”

“Don’t tell me he’s still philosophizing in some cloudy corner of the world somewhere.”

“Not to my knowledge. Although that’s an intriguing thought. We need more famous vampires. Caligula would have made for very interesting conversation. Lincoln, Napoleon, Cleopatra, Shakespeare, Dante...I guess it’s possible that anyone is still around. Maybe we should turn Meat Loaf. You know, for the good of posterity.”

“Is it not enough that they’re already cursed with student debt and global warming?”

Joe cackled, took my face in his palms, kissed each of my cheeks one after the other, then nudged my nose with his. “You ready to go, Baby Swan? I suspect we’re expected to participate in some holiday festivities tonight.”

“I’m ready,” I agreed. We threw our leftover pizza to the seagulls, disposed of the grease-spotted cardboard box, and walked back to my 1999 Honda Accord with our pulseless hands intertwined.

The evergreen trees along Routh 110 fled by beneath a sky freckling with stars. Sharp winter air poured in through the open windows. And I could feel that it was cold, in the same way that I could feel the warmth on Forks’ rare sweltering days; but there was no discomfort that accompanied that knowledge. Pain only came when the sky was unincumbered by thick clouds churning in off the Pacific, and then it felt something like staring into the sun had as a human. Sunglasses helped, but the surest remedy was avoidance, was surrender. And what an inconsequential price to pay for forever.

“Wait,” I said, spying the mailbox that marked the start of the Lees’ driveway. “They still deliver mail on Christmas Eve, right?”

“Uh, I think so, why...?” And then he remembered. “Oh, yeah, let’s check!”

I pulled up beside the mailbox and Joe leaned out, returning to his seat with a mountain of Christmas cards and business correspondence and advertisements from Costco and Sephora. He sifted through them until he found a single white envelope from the University of Chicago Pritzker School of Medicine. It was addressed to a Mr. Benjamin August Hardy. Joe held it up to show me as we drove down the driveway, the Lee house coming into view and ornamented with a frankly excessive amount of multicolored string lights and inflatable reindeer.

“Oh my god!” I squealed, drumming the steering wheel.

“You want to be the one to give it to him?”

“Are you serious?! Yeah, can I?”

Joe passed the envelope to me as I parked my geriatric Honda, which Archer had pledged to keep alive as long as physically possible. In return, Ben let him and Scarlett borrow the Aston Martin Vantage no less than once a week. I dashed out of the car, up the steps of the front porch, and into the house that bubbled over with the sounds of metallic kitchen clashes and frenetic voices and Wham!’s Last Christmas.

“Ben?!” I shouted.

“Hi, honey!” Mercy called from the living room, where she and Lucy were putting the final touches on Scarlett’s gown. Scarlett was playing the part of semi-willing victim, wearing gold heels and an impatient smirk and her hair out of the way in a milkmaid braid; her train of vivid red lace billowed across the hardwood floor. From the couch, Archer and Rami were playing Mario Kart on the big-screen tv and nibbling their way through a tray of homemade gingerbread cookies.

“Oh wow,” I said, clutching the envelope to my chest, mesmerized. I kept waiting for Scarlett to start looking like a normal person to me, and it never happened. Tonight, in the glow of the flameless candles and kaleidoscopic Christmas lights and draped in lace the color of pomegranate seeds, she was Persephone: a goddess of resurrection, a face that death himself could not pass by unscathed. “You’ve outdone yourself, Lucy. Seriously.”

“One day I’m going to get you out of those thrift shop sweaters,” Lucy threatened me, placing a pin in the fabric at Scarlett’s waist.

“Yeah, okay. Let me know when that shows up in one of your visions.”

“Bitch,” Lucy flung back, snickering, knowing how improbable that was. I still appeared in her visions extremely infrequently, and then only when I happened to be standing next to whoever the premonition was actually about.

“Language, dear,” Mercy tutted, inspecting the hem of Scarlett’s gown.

Joe arrived beside me, his arms still full of mail. “ScarJo, I almost didn’t recognize you! Why do you have, like, no cleavage or fishnets or thigh slits?”

“Why do you have like no eyelashes?” Scarlett replied. “See, I can ask unnecessary and invasive questions too.”

Joe frowned, wounded. “What’s wrong with my eyelashes?”

“Lucy, darling, I think it’s just a tad uneven on this side,” Mercy said, showing her. “Maybe by half an inch...?”

“No, seriously, what’s wrong with my eyelashes?!”

Mercy replied distractedly: “Nothing, honey, you’re perfect just the way you are.”

“Mom!” Joe groaned.

“It really is gorgeous,” Mercy marveled as Lucy flitted around her to investigate the hem situation. “And so Christmasy. So perfect for the season. Scarlett, dear, you were right after all, and I’m so sorry for doubting you. I’d just never heard of a red wedding dress before.”

“Mom, it’s not a fucking wedding!” Scarlett exclaimed, for probably the thirtieth time since Thanksgiving. “It’s a nonbinding, informal celebration of an egalitarian romantic partnership. Will somebody please inform this woman that it’s not a wedding?!”

“Yes, yes, of course, whatever you want, sweetheart,” Mercy conceded dreamily.

Joe pointed to Archer. “Isn’t he supposed to not see the dress until the day of or something?”

“What a great question!” Archer replied, still deeply invested in Mario Kart. “You see, that would be the case if this was a wedding. However, I’ve been informed in no uncertain terms that it is most definitely not.”

Scarlett grinned triumphantly at Joe. “There you have it.”

She might snap petulantly, and she might complain, but Scarlett wouldn’t be doing this if she didn’t want to; we were all intimately familiar with the futility of trying to force Scarlett into anything. The not-wedding, as improbable as it seemed, had been her idea from the start. And she wasn’t doing it for herself. She wasn’t even doing it for Archer. Scarlett was doing it for her mother.

The first six months had been hell for Mercy. She didn’t resent me, as I had feared she might; Mercy made that clear, and Rami confirmed it. But she was gutted. She wouldn’t speak of Gwil, wouldn’t listen to us talk about him, locked every photograph of him away in dark drawers, wandered around with a remote, uncanny, unseeing smile until she walked straight into walls; and then she would blink inanely up at them, as if they had dropped out of the sky rather than been built by her own hands. She baked hundreds of cakes and almost never slept. She told us she was fine every time we asked, which was more or less constantly. But on the very rare occasions when she was left alone, Mercy would unfailingly end up in the field behind the Lee house, gazing out into the forest of western hemlock trees with tears snaking silently down her cheeks, the muted light of the cloud-covered setting sun flickering red and furious on her face like wildfire.

And then one afternoon, a package had arrived from Arviat, Canada, where Cato and the rest of the surviving Draghi had relocated shortly after the rebellion at Vladivostok. It was five feet tall and another three wide, and what we found after carefully peeling away all those layers of foam padding and packing tape was a portrait of Gwilym so skillfully painted that it could have been mistaken for a photograph. Mercy had stared at it for a long time—ignoring Lucy’s attempts to guide her away, deaf to any of our concerns—until she at last picked up the portrait herself and said, quite evenly: “I think we should hang it in the living room, don’t you?”

Things had been better since then—very, very gradually, and yet unmistakably—and Gwil’s portrait remained mounted above the living room couch like a watchman, his eyes sparkling and blue, his faint smile stoic and fond and omniscient. But even in the wake of Mercy’s continued improvement, none of us kids were about to risk another agonizingly despondent Christmas. So the solution was obvious. We would keep Mercy preoccupied with what thrilled her more than absolutely anything else: the pseudo-weddings of her children. Rami and Lucy had already secretly volunteered to go next year...and after that, who knew? And there was one other thing that was making Mercy’s burden a little lighter these days.

Charlie sauntered into the living room, wearing an apron covered in cartwheeling Santas and wiping white dust like snow—powdered sugar? flour? baking soda?—from his ungainly hands. He was palpably proud. “The sugar cookies are officially in the oven. And I managed to fit them all on one baking sheet, isn’t that great?! Cuts down on dishes!”

“Why, yes, I suppose it does!” Mercy said, alarm dawning in her eyes. Had my beloved father placed the globs of dough too close together? Would we end up with one hideous, giant monster-cookie? Only time would tell. Providentially, Archer and Joe could be counted on to eat just about anything.

Joe sniffed the air, his forehead crinkling. “What’s burning?”

“Nothing should be burning,” Mercy replied, almost defensive, forever protective of Charlie and all of his profound, incurably human imperfections. Sometimes I thought that she preferred him that way, that he was a link to a simpler world in the same way I had once been, that he was a puddle of memory she could drop into, that maybe he wasn’t so unlike her first husband Arthur. “Not yet, anyway. The cookies need at least ten to twelve minutes at 350.”

“Wait, 350?!” Charlie exclaimed, horrorstruck. “I thought you said 450!”

“Oh, this is tragic,” Scarlett said.

“I can fix it!” Mercy trilled buoyantly, breezing off to the kitchen as Charlie followed after her with a fountain of apologies. She shushed them away affectionately, patting his chest with her soft plump hands, chuckling about how luckily they had fire extinguishers stowed away in almost every closet just in case. And there were other reasons for that besides Charlie’s perilous baking attempts, but he didn’t know them. Now the record player was belting out Queen’s Thank God It’s Christmas.

Archer lost another round in Mario Kart and exhaled a great, mournful sigh. “Hey, Baby Swanpire, can you do something about this guy?” He nodded to Rami. “This is criminal. It’s nowhere near a fair fight. He knows every freaking time I’m about to toss a banana peel.”

Rami smirked guiltily up at me from the couch, not bothering to deny it.

“Do you mind?” I asked him.

“Not at all,” Rami replied. “I want to show this loser I can beat him even without the benefit of mega-cool extrasensory superpowers.”

“Rude!” Archer cried.

“So rude,” Scarlett agreed, smiling.

“Okay, here we go.” I sat down beside Rami, still holding Ben’s envelope in my right hand, and laid my left against Rami’s cheek. And I felt a fistful of numbness—like instant peace, like milk-white Novocain—pass from my skin into his, rolling into his skull, deadening whatever telepathic livewires had been ignited there in the August of 1916. The effect would last anywhere from thirty minutes to a few hours; and it worked on every vampire I’d met so far.

“Whoa, trippy,” Rami murmured. “It’s still weird, every single time.” He peered drowsily around the room. “It’s...so...quiet?! You guys really live like this? No one is constantly bombarding you with sexual fantasies or romantic pining or depressive inner monologues? How do you function?! Now I’m alone with my own thoughts, that’s actually worse!”

“Hurry up and beat him while he’s all freaked out and vulnerable,” Scarlett told Archer.

Archer laughed, picking up his Nintendo 64 controller, radiant with the promise of vengeance. “Yes ma’am.”

“Any good mail?” Lucy asked Joe.

“Yeah. Coupons and a ton of Christmas cards from random people. The vet sent us one with alpacas on it, so that’s cute. Oh, and here’s one from our favorite Canadians.”

Joe held up the card so we could all see. The picture on the front showed Cato and Honora sitting on a large velvet, forest green couch with a hulking Christmas tree illuminated in the background. The others were arranged around them: Austin, Max, Ksenia, Charity, Araminta, Akari, Morana, Phelan, Aruna, Adair, Zora, Sahel, and a few new faces I couldn’t name yet. They were all wearing matching turtleneck sweaters. And every single one of them was smiling.

Joe cleared his throat theatrically and read the text on the inside of the card:

“Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

(Oh, and Scarlett, congratulations on your not-marriage.)

- Cato Douglass Freeman”

“That bastard,” Scarlett muttered.

Rami offered me his controller. He had just slipped on a banana peel and rocketed off a cliff. “You want a turn?”

“No, thanks though. I have to talk to Ben. Is he around?”

Rami shrugged ruefully. “I would help, but my brain is temporarily broken.”

Scarlett rolled her eyes, taking a gingerbread cookie from the tray and biting into it as Lucy batted crumbs from the red lace dress, exasperated. “I think he’s out in the hot tub.”

“Cool. I shall return.”

Joe took my spot on the couch as I departed, shoveling cookies into his mouth, seizing Rami’s controller and kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

I opened the door to the back porch, and frigid December air rushed in like an uninvited guest. The field was coated with a thin layer of snow, the animals safe and warm in the barn, the garden slumbering. And in the spring and summer, when blossoms of a dozen different varieties came open beneath the drizzling grey skies, Mercy’s calla lilies didn’t bother my allergies at all. Nothing did anymore. Ben was indeed in the hot tub, puffing on his vape pen, wearing only a beanie hat and swim trunks.

“What flavor is that cartridge?” I asked as I approached. “Gummy bear?”

“Close. Strawberry doughnut.”

“Ohhhh, yum!” Ben passed me the vape pen, and I took a drag as I kicked off my boots and sat near him on the rim of the hot tub, slipping my bare feet beneath the steaming, roiling water. Then I handed his vape pen back. “So. Guess what I have for you.”

“Uh.” He glanced at the envelope. “Jury duty.”

“Better.”

“Someone I hate has jury duty.”

I flipped the envelope around so he could see the University of Chicago logo on the front.

“Oh god,” Ben moaned.

“Don’t you want to see what it says?”

“Not really,” he admitted, grimacing.

“Come on, Ben. Open it.”

“Nah.”

“Why not?!”

Ben sighed. “Look, if I open it and it’s bad news, it’s gonna make Christmas weird. Rami will know. They’ll all know. They’ll all feel bad for me and it’ll be pathetic and depressing and awkward. You can look if you want to, just don’t tell anyone else yet.”

“It’s not going to be bad news,” I said, tugging at the floppy top of his beanie hat. He swatted my hand away, but he was smiling grudgingly.

“You have positively no way of knowing that. Unless Lucy’s had a vision I’m unaware of.”

“She hasn’t. You know she never sees anything important.”

“She saw you coming,” Ben countered.

“She saw human-me and Joe in love and gobbling down pretzels at a Cubs game. So I’d say there were at least a few minor details missing.”

“There’s no way I got in,” Ben said, his green eyes slick and fearful and now fixed on the envelope. “We can’t all be geniuses like you.”

“That’s an unfair accusation. I’m far from genius. I’m just obsessed with the ocean.” I’d written my senior thesis on the feeding habits of Pacific angelsharks, and my advisor was still trying to figure out how I, an amateur scuba diver at best, had managed to get so many quality photographs with my underwater camera. The secret, of course, was superhuman agility and not needing to breathe.

“I fucking hate calculus. The MCAT wrecked me. I got a 517.”

“And their median score is a 519, so I’d say you still have a fighting chance. Plus you have like eight million volunteer hours.” Ben had spent the vast majority of the past year either in class or at the hospital. The psychiatrist-in-chief, Dr. Siegel, had been more than happy to take one of Gwil’s foster children under her wing. Every human in Forks except Archer believed that Dr. Gwilym Lee had drowned in a tragic boating accident while he and Mercy were on vacation in Southern California, and that his body had never been recovered. The town had held a wonderful remembrance ceremony and dedicated a free clinic at the hospital in his honor. “Now open it.”

“You do it,” Ben relented finally. “My hands are wet. Go ahead, open it up and tell me what it says. And then kindly euthanize me to end my immortal shame.”

“That wouldn’t work,” I pointed out, tearing open the envelope. I pulled out the tri-folded piece of paper inside, flattened it against my thighs, and read the typed black text.

“...Well?” Ben pressed, vaping frantically.

I looked up and smiled at him.

“No way,” he whispered.

“I hope you like pretzels and bear-themed baseball teams, grandpa.”

And for a second, I thought he might bolt up out of the hot tub, hooting victoriously, splashing water all over the back porch as he danced around bellowing that he’d gotten into one of the best medical schools in the world, that he would be following me and Joe to Chicago. But that wasn’t Ben. Instead, a slow smile rippled across his face: it was small, but perfectly genuine. Pure, even.

“Goddamn,” he said, watching me. Venom doesn’t just resurrect or ruin; it forms a bond that is simultaneously intangible and yet immense. It’s an evolutionary adaptation, a way to facilitate stability and the building of covens in an often violent and ruleless world. And now that he had turned me, Ben had family here in Forks in more ways than one.

“Gwil would be so proud of you, Ben.”

“I hope so. I really do.”

The back door of the house opened, and Joe stepped outside. He studied Ben for a moment, and that was all it took for him to know. “Benny!” he shouted, elated.

“I know, I know. Fortunately, I look amazing in red. Thanks, supermodel genes.”

“This is going to be so fun!” Joe said, sprinting over to wrap Ben—who was characteristically lukewarm on this whole physical displays of affection business—in a hug from just outside the hot tub. “We’re going to go furniture shopping, and eat deep-dish pizza, and find apartments right next to each other, and mail home Chicago-themed care packages, and get you hooked up with some gorgeous Italian woman...or whatever you like, I guess I shouldn’t assume. Women. Men. Gang members. Marine mammals. Jessicas. Whatever. There are options.”

Ben laughed as he playfully shoved Joe away. “Sounds like a plan, pagliaccio.”

“Oh my god, stop learning Italian without me! You realize you have to tell Mom now.”

“I will,” Ben agreed, with some trepidation. “I’ll wait until after Christmas.”

“It’ll be hard for her,” I said. “But she knows it’s what you want. She knows it’s what’s best for you. So she’ll get through it. I think it would be worse for her if you didn’t get in, if she had to see you unhappy.”

Ben nodded, exhaling strawberry-doughnut-flavored vapor, gazing up at the stars, Orion and Auriga and Lynx and Perseus reflected in his thoughtful jade eyes. “She’ll still have Rami and Lucy and Scarlett here with her. And Archer. And Charlie.”

“Especially Charlie,” Joe said, grinning.

Mercy would have to leave Forks eventually, of course. The Lees had already been here for nearly four years; they could stay another ten, perhaps fifteen at the absolute maximum. And there had been a time when ten or fifteen years seemed like quite a while to me, but now it felt like I could doze off one afternoon and wake up on the other side of it, like swimming a lap in the sun-drenched public pool back in Phoenix. We would find a new home somewhere after Joe and I finished our PhDs, after Ben finished medical school, maybe Vancouver or Buffalo or Amsterdam or Edinburgh or Dublin or Reykjavik. Wherever we went, I hoped it wouldn’t be far from the sea. But Mercy couldn’t bear to leave Forks yet. It was the last home she had shared with Gwil, the last house they would ever build together, and leaving it would make his loss all the more irrevocable. She would be ready to leave someday, but not today.

In the meantime, there would still be visits for breaks and holidays. Scarlett and Archer had the shop to keep them busy, a brand new eight-car garage that held a virtual monopoly on both the Forks and Quileute communities. Lucy had opened a bohemian-style clothing boutique downtown, which confounded most of the locals but attracted more adventurous customers from as far away as Seattle. Rami was interning for a local immigration lawyer and entertaining the possibility of applying to U Chicago’s law school in another few years. And Mercy had the farm; and she had Charlie. He had asked her for cooking lessons to try to help rouse her a few months after Gwil’s death, and it had grown from there. If it wasn’t romantic just yet, I believed it would be soon. And there were moments when I thought my father might have figured something out, when his eyes narrowed and lingered on me just a little too long, when his brow knitted into suspicious, searching lines, when the hairs rose on the back of his neck and some innate insight whispered that we weren’t like him and never could be again. But then he would chuckle, shake his head, and say: “You’ve gotten weird, my gorgeous, brilliant progeny. But Forks looks pretty good on you.”

“Can I talk to you upstairs?” Joe asked me suddenly; and did I see restless nerves flicker in his dark eyes? I thought I did.

“Sure,” I replied, climbing down from the hot tub. “Ben, are you coming inside? My dad is trying to bake Christmas cookies and failing miserably. It’s pretty hilarious. Not that you should be the one to critique other people’s kitchen-related accidents.”

“I do enjoy your company a lot more now that I don’t want to murder you and slurp you down like a Chick-fil-A milkshake,” Ben said. “Yeah, give me a few minutes and I’ll be there.” And as Joe and I headed into the house, I saw Ben pick up the acceptance letter that I’d left on the rim of the hot tub and read it for himself with incredulous eyes, grappling with the irrefutable fact that it was his name on the opening line, that he had somewhere along the way become the sort of man who dedicated his immortality to saving lives rather than ending them.

In the living room, Scarlett was back in her yoga pants and absolutely brutalizing Archer in Mario Kart. Rami and Lucy were entwined together on the loveseat, murmuring, giggling, feeding each other pieces of gingerbread cookies. In the kitchen, Charlie was leading Mercy in a clumsy waltz to Meat Loaf’s I’d Do Anything For Love, and each time he fumbled his steps or mortifyingly trod on her feet she would cry out in a peal of laughter brighter than the sun she had learned to live without. Joe spirited me up the staircase, into his bedroom—which, honestly, was more like our bedroom now, in the same way that my room in Charlie’s house had become Joe’s as well—and closed the door.

“You’re in luck,” he said. “Your dad totally ruined our song. Now I can’t hear it without thinking about some moustached guy in plaid trying to seduce my mom.”

“It’s the best Christmas gift I could ever ask for. Meat Loaf is vanquished. Oh, just so you’re aware, Renee and Paul are getting an Airbnb and coming up for New Years.”

“Cool. Do they still think I have a super embarrassing sunlight allergy and will break into hives and asphyxiate and that’s why we can’t visit them in Florida?”

“Yup.”

“Spectacular. Also, can you please tell me what’s wrong with my eyelashes?”

“They’re just a little sparse, amore. But I still like you.”

“Well, I am only moderately attractive, you know.” Then Joe steeled himself, taking a deep breath. Uh oh. He was definitely nervous. I still couldn’t believe I had the power to make him that way, but here we were. “So I get that we’re doing presents with the whole family tomorrow morning, and you do have some under the tree, so don’t worry about that. But there’s one I wanted to give to you alone. You know. With just us. Without an audience. Or whatever.”

“...Okay...?” A secret gift? A naughty gift? “I hope it’s a new vibrator.”

“Shut up,” Joe begged, laughing. “Here.” He reached into the drawer of his nightstand—our nightstand—and produced a small blue box topped with a turquoise bow. It wasn’t a ring, I was sure of that; I didn’t feel especially attached to the idea of marriage, and neither did Joe to my knowledge. How could rings or papers seal commitment when you already had eternity? I was right: the mysterious present was not a ring. When I removed the lid and emptied the box into my palm, what appeared there was a small plastic airplane.

“What is this?” I asked, amused but puzzled.

“Are you not college educated? It’s a plane.”

“Well, yeah, I can see that. But it’s also like two inches long.” I scrutinized the plane. “Are you magically transforming me into a tiny, tiny, little plastic person? Is that my gift? Because I actually got you something good.” And I really did: there was a collection of vintage Chicago Cubs photographs from the 1910s and 20s downstairs under the Christmas tree, packaged in Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer wrapping paper.

“We’re going on a trip,” Joe said, grinning. “The day after Christmas. It’s just a short trip, nothing huge, don’t get too excited, we’re not going to Mt. Everest or Antarctica or anything. I think you’ll still like it. But I don’t want you to know where we’re going until we’re there.”

“How will that work? Considering the tickets and signage and pilot announcements and obnoxiously noisy other passengers and all.”

“ScarJo’s going to fly us.”

“Really?!” We were taking the jet. We almost never used the jet. “What’s in it for Scarlett?”

“She found out that Archer’s never had In-N-Out Burger before and is very much looking forward to initiating him into the cult of deliciousness.”

“Oh nice. I could go for a vanilla milkshake myself, now that Ben mentioned them.”

“Obviously I’m gonna buy you all the milkshakes and animal-style fries you want. Bankrupt me, bitch. But we have to get one other thing taken care of first.”

“So it’s somewhere they have In-N-Out Burger...” I pondered aloud. California? Texas? Las Vegas? I felt a brief but unambiguous pang of homesickness for Phoenix. But there was nothing there for me anymore.

“Stop,” Joe pleaded. “I’m sorry. I’ve already said too much. Please forget that. Get a traumatic brain injury or oxygen deprivation or something.”

“I hate to disappoint you, but I’m rather indestructible at the moment.”

He smiled wistfully. “I wouldn’t want you to be any other way.”

There was laughter downstairs in the living room. I could detect the aroma of a fresh batch of sugar cookies baking in the kitchen, mingling with the cold night air and pine trees and peppermint candy canes. I loved Christmas. The entire world smelled like Joe. The U Chicago décor, classic rock posters, and Italian flag were now interspersed with National Geographic pages and photos of the two of us together. The Official Whatever You Want Pass hung in a small, square picture frame on the wall above Joe’s bed. Our bed.

“How real is it, Joe?” I asked quietly. I climbed onto my tiptoes, linking my hands around the back of his neck with the tiny plane still tucked between my fingers. “Seriously. The wishes thing.”

“The world may never know. Akari never met me as a human, so she wouldn’t be able to say. But if I had to place a bet...” He shrugged, grinning craftily. “Kinda real. Kinda not real. Just like vampires, I guess.”

“I am alarmingly glad that you’re real, mob guy,” I said, abruptly somber. “I never thought I’d meet someone who saw me as remarkable, who could make me see myself that way. And it’s miraculous. And it’s terrifying too, honestly. Being a thing with you. Falling for someone you could have for centuries and lose in a second.”

“It’s the scariest thing there is,” Joe concurred, taking my hand to lead me back downstairs.

Joseph

Scarlett looks like a goddess, and she knows it. But she’s not one of those magnanimous, fragile, harp-plucking, pastel-colored goddesses. She’s ferocity and wildness and crimson like blood, and that’s exactly why Archer loves her. And as they stand in front of the Christmas tree with their hands clasped together—ivory on bronze, snow on sun—with matching sprigs of holly in Scarlett’s hair and pinned to the jacket of Archer’s suit, reciting truths but no promises, I can’t help but watch the other faces in the room: Rami, Lucy, Ben, Charlie, Mom with her beaming smile and shining eyes, the woman I met sixteen months ago and now can’t fathom life without. And it occurs to me for the first time that love, in its cleanest form, isn’t something that changes people as much as it allows them to become who they truly are.

On the evening of December 26th, as soon as the sun dips beneath the western horizon, we board the jet in the Forks Airport hangar. It’s much easier for Scarlett to fly at night; otherwise she has to wear two or three pairs of sunglasses on top of each other, and even then it’s still painful, it still feels like blinding needles burrowing into the jelly of her retinas. That’s not a wrench in my plans or anything. It needs to be night where we’re going, too.

Vampire hyper-acuity notwithstanding, FAA regulations require Scarlett to have a copilot, so Archer joins her in the flight deck with his newly-minted license and spends most of the journey flipping through the latest issue of Motor Trend. As we begin our descent, he peeks back at us and teases: “It’ll be your turn eventually, guys. Scarlett and I did our time. Rami and Lucy can go next year. And after that...unless Ben happens to find someone worthy of a not-wedding...” He wiggles his black eyebrows.

“Bring it on,” I reply casually. “Fake wedding are my jam. It’ll be ocean themed. Or Roaring ‘20s themed. And we’ll all do the Cha-Cha Slide in the living room and shame Ben as a bonding activity.”

“Mercy can set up a mashed potatoes bar,” Baby Swan adds.

“Yeah. With pineapple.”

“No. Not on potatoes.”

“Yes on potatoes.”

“Over my dead body.”

“Too late,” I tell her, touching my lips to the knuckles of her cool, steady hand.

We touch down at a small noncommercial airport just outside the city, and Scarlett and Archer stay back to secure the plane as Baby Swan follows me outside. And she realizes where we are as soon as the wind hits her, as soon as her eyes soak up the sand and cacti and cloudless night sky like rain swallowed up by parched earth.

“Phoenix,” she whispers, smiling like a child.

“But wait, there’s more!” I announce in my best Billy Mays voice. I take the little glass bottle from my pocket, walk across the runway to the naked desert, crouch down when I find a suitable spot, and fill the bottle with dry, sandy earth that crumbles in my palms. Then I seal the bottle with a tiny cork and bring it back to give it to her.

“I know what it’s like to have to leave home,” I say. “You’ve had to say goodbye to Phoenix, and soon you’ll have to say goodbye to Forks, and next will be Chicago, on and on forever. You’ll always be leaving the places you learn to call home. Every five or ten or fifteen years, we start over again. Like a snake shedding its skin, like a hermit crab swapping shells. Like the water that travels from rain to seawater to mist and then back again. But now you can always have a little piece of home with you, and maybe that will make it easier.”

She takes the glass bottle and shakes her head in disbelief, in wonder. Because this is exactly what she wanted, what she needed, even if she didn’t know it yet. “Joe...how did you...?”

“What’d I tell ya? I’m a talented guy. Now you have to dance with me.”

She laughs. “Oh no. Hard pass. I don’t dance.”

“When we’re alone in my bedroom you do. So just pretend we’re alone now. In, like, a really really spacious, sandy bedroom. With probably some lizards.”

“Fine. But only because I’m willing to degrade myself for milkshakes.”

She slides the glass bottle of Arizona earth into her pocket and takes my hands. She’s still a pretty terrible dancer, honestly. She hasn’t lost that. And I love that about her. I love damn near everything about her. And it took me a long time to figure out what exactly her subtle yet peerless cocktail of fragrance is, because it wasn’t somewhere I’d ever been. The scent that drifts from her pores—the scent that now lives in my bedsheets like a shadow or a ghost—is sunlight and heat and clarity and resilience and wisdom older than the pyramids. Her scent is the desert.

Now she’s mischievous, her eyes gleaming with the reflections of the Milky Way and the full moon and the stars that are dead and yet eternal, just like us. “So what, you think you’re Vampire Boyfriend Of The Year material now or what? Some dirt and In-N-Out Burger? That’s the height of your game? Is this what I have to look forward to for the rest of my perpetual existence? I totally should have pursued that polyamorous triad with Scarlett and Archer when I had the chance—”

“Yeah,” I say, very softly, smiling, tilting up her chin to kiss her beneath the universe and all its eccentricities. “I love you too.”

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littlemessyjessi · 3 years

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How They’d Be As Mukbangers: Harry Potter Characters

How They'd Be As YouTube Mukbangers

James: Every video has a theme. Like, I'm not even playing. Holidays? All kinda of holiday themed food. Quidditch World Cup coming up? Things inspired by the country of his favorite team. Just a random day? Everything is blue. He's that type of way.

Sirius: If a mukbanger was a thirst trap. I could easily see him really getting into. Dark background, black gloves, aesthetic as fuck and like, he doesn't even talk. He just sits there, looks hot and somehow makes eating looking incredibly sexy. And he fucking knows it. Bitch also one hundred percent rolls his eyes back when it hits his taste buds. Licks his lips and his fingers. Takes way too big of bites. Most people would say it's cringy how sexual his videos are...but everyone is secret subscribed anyway. With notifications on.

Remus: This goes one of two ways. If he's in a good mood and things are chill, he'll find a recipe, make it to the mother fucking 't' and then have a little mukbang slash review on said recipe. Nice lil chat. Sweet tol bean. Precious. If it's near the full moon there ain't none of that. Ya boy, brings in his monstrous plate of food, sits it down and just tears into like a fucking beast, no talking. Just nom nom nom. Unintentionally thirst traps and people opening talk about when Remus goes beast mode.

Peter: Candy and sweets channel! Small mukbangs with reviews from different candies from Honeydukes!

Lily: Lol, Lilypad. She ain't playing around. Her videos are planned out, edited and just generally finessed to perfection. Even had music added to it with tiny vlog segments as it's set up. It's a little pretentious but she does have a good following.

Marlene: This bitch. Fucking competitive eating queen. Tiny ass lil ho can eat you under the table, bro. Think RainaIsCrazy on YouTube. She can fucking smash. Usually does eating challenges from different resteraunts and competitions. Often, challenges Remus on his wild days. He's a beast but she still wipes the floor with him.

Dorcas: The collab. Dorcas always has good food and good company. She's all about sharing a meal with someone and talking about random things.

Alice and Frank: The couple channel. It's generally filled with so much fucking cute and the food is always tasty. It's sickening they feed each other but you also can't help but awww.

Molly Prewett/Weasley: Family recipes. Molly's channel are tried and true recipes from the Prewett family. Cook with me and tons of kitchen life hacks. Also, that woman can turn a ham sandwhich into a full course meal. Bet. Always taste tested by Daddy Weasley. Yes, I said Daddy Weasley.

Lucius Malfoy: The most pretentious fucking channel to ever exist. It's a whole fucking production that admittedly he does put a lot of work into. Somewhat thirst trappy like Sirius' but instead of just having a plain black background he goes out of his way to shove as much of his manor into. Only eats the most expensive food fucking on the planet and of course, it's prepared by House elves cause he's a twit. (Yes, I know this is Thranduil but honestly wouldn’t put it past Lucius to be this fucking pretentious.)

Severus Snape: Actually pretty solid content. His exquisite skills in potions actually made him a rather good chef. Tasteful shots, edited well with music over everything and subtitles. Simply audio for the eat portion at the end. Nothing too fancy for the background. Often just a very clean kitchen. Solid content though.

The Black Sisters: Mass chaos. Part vlog, part drama channel, half the time the food never even gets finished because of fights.

Bill Weasley: The Traveler. A lot of egyptian food. Some made by hand. Some vlogs from street food while he's out just generally doing his job. Short videos but solid. He's hot and he picks good food. It works for him.

Charlie Weasley: This extra ass bitch. He's the bitch that does all that outdoor cooking. You know what I mean. Shots in the woods, roaring fire. Lit by a precious dragon child no doubt. Dragons lounging in the background like those bitches who always have their dogs there. Yes, I'm jealous. Close up shots of him cutting things on a custom wood cutting board. Everything he makes causes your mouth to water. God damn, scarred, freckle faced bastard just gobbles it up and ends every fucking video with a wink. Charlie Weasley is the ultimate thirst trap and he fucking knows it.

Percy: Percy's channel could be epic but instead is boring as fuck. Why? Because he insist on having the most snooze worthy meals that are 'sensible' and THEN he proceeds to talk about politics. He actually had a pretty decent following of other like minded individuals but my god- politics and porridge, Percy? Really?

However, once he chills the fuck out, leaves the ministry to do something else - it’s a game changer. Brings the family on for mukbangs. Does videos with mummy weasley. Percy grows his hair out and Bill teases him for being a copy cat. Much better. Still talks politics but it’s fucking hiliarous and now the food is poppin.

Fred and George: Alright, this shit right here. Every fucking bit of it is a self promo for the shop. Meals inspired by and that would go well paired with 'this product'. Like, that's the whole thing. And then they run an add for their shop at the end featuring the product. It works for them because they're smart, they're hot and they're also wildly entertaining with their constantly sibling squabbling. But yeah. Big promo for the shop.

Ron Weasley: Honestly, out of everyone. Ron probably has the most followers and it's because he doesn't say shit while he's eating. He sits down with a massive fucking turkey. Nods at the camera and just tears it up. It's literally so satisfying. All the food is prepared by his mother. So it's obviously fantastic. ( I just had to use this gif.)

Ginny: Gin's channel is usually team building videos with the Harpies. 'Cheat Day: Vlog and Mukbang w/the Harpies' type of vibes. It's cool though and since it's a famous quidditch team the fans enjoy the behind the scenes action and actually drop all kinds of recipes for them to try in the future.

Hermione: Hermione could easily veer off into Percy's channel of misery when she gets started on her rants but mostly they're really chill videos. Mukbang and Book Review type of vibe. Or sometimes even the playing of an audio book while she does her thing. All in all, wholesome.

Harry: Lol, I swear. Fucking awkward bean. Harry's videos are literally of him making the simplest of things and being so fucking awkward. "Er, well, hi guys. So I'm about to head out for work. Running a bit late. But we're having a bit of toast and jam." Like it's literally just little videos of him eating whatever throughout the day. But of course, since he's Harry Fucking Potter- his follower count is astronomical.

Neville: Now, this boy. This boy is a goblincore gobbo's wet dream. Gardening videos with homegrown veg. Recipes from Grandmother. Have a nice Veggie Pot Pie with Professor Longbottom in the Hogwarts Greenhouse. There is a fanbase and it is huge.

Luna: Honestly, the weirdest fucking channel in the world. Like she finds the weirdest things to eat and goes from there. But Luna is bae so it's cool. Also, a thousand percent does Smoke Sesh + Mukbang videos. You know it's true.

Dean and Seamus: Literally, eating in the most crowded pubs as they visit football games around the country. Seamus will definitely pull the Irish card from time to time to have a drinking competition. He wins everytime. He may be a little dude but shit- homie can hold his own.

Cedric: Honestly, it's so fucking pure. Straight up did videos during his time at Hogwarts in the Hogwarts kitchen. Such kind little conversations with the house elves. "Hey, guys. Thanks for coming back to another video. Today we're making some really tasty biscuits. Whispy, one of the talented bakers here in the kitchens, is here to help us today so please say hello to her in the comments." He'll also always make extra and leave them in the Hufflepuff common room for everyone to enjoy. Like, it's honestly so pure and he's such a soft boi and oh my fucking geeeeeeerrrrrrdddd!!!!!

Draco: Actually takes it really seriously and put a lot of hard work into it. Nothing like his father's ego-tistical recipes. Surprisingly, every. single. recipe. is a muggle recipe. How would he know? Because he cross referenced with Granger of course. Cooks it himself. No magic. Lots of random talks. Just like a monologue of things and it gets kinda deep sometimes. Like, it's the channel to go to when you need advice that you didn't even know that you needed. Still eats incredibly proper. It's that pureblood raising of his. Old habits die hard.

Tonks: Pure chaos. "Hey, today we're having Mum's homemade lasagna and I'm also getting a new tattoo. Might dye my hair. Don't really need to since I can do this but whatever. So yeah, there's that. Like it's just all over the place and you'd think it would take but the chaos is too good not to watch. Literally gives herself beaks and snouts while she eats. It's iconic.

Dumbledore: Mother fucker just sits at his desk, stares straight into the camera and eats a lemon drop. Like a weirdo. The video usually no more than a minute and each video is just some variation of that. Meme lord.

Hagrid: Tea With Hagrid. Also, so the recipes suck, they too, but Hagrid is a peach and it's relaxing to see his gentle half giant there in his hut, pumpkin patch out the window and Fang laying by the fire. It's a mood and he's just like the comforting Dad figure.

McGonagall: Honestly the best one in the entire world. She makes a full course traditional Scottish breakfast... and then transforms into her animagus the cat...and promptly knocks it off the table. A fucking legend.

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

Please attack the ask box!

Love, Kenny

@frankie2902

@pleasantdreamqueen @becrazy–beyou

@littledeadrottinghood @blackirisposts

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@sullybot @georgiagrl1990 @whenallsaidanddone

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Love, Kenny

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debbiechanclub · 3 years

Text

BTOOT Trent/Alex Supercut!

Listen, I know that I’ve hinted at Trent/Alex quite a lot throughout BTOOT, starting with the very first chapter. And I know there are a few people who lowkey ship them. So I decided to make a supercut of all the times that it seems like there’s something there for reasons. Perhaps sequel-related reasons.

Anyway, I don’t have a word count for this but... it’s long.

Tag squad: @hotyeehawman @freshlysqueezedmox @comeasyoudar @librathepheonix13 @heelchampbucks @gabbynorth98 @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @exe-sadboi-exe (let me know if you want to be added!)

Chapter 1

“Sudden Death” was nothing more than “Never Have I Ever.” But, quite frankly, Alex was a little nervous. She knew this group of people—and she knew they had little to no shame.

“Okay, these are the rules,” she explained. “We’ll play like normal—but Chuckie and Orange will be the only ones putting down their fingers. The first one to put down all three fingers is the loser of the round.”

“Okay, just to clarify,” Scorpio asked, “so whoever still has fingers up at the end wins the whole thing?”

She nodded. “Correct.”

“I don’t like this,” Chuck said, even as he held up three fingers. “Y’all are gonna say things you know I’ve done to make me lose.”

“Never have I ever been a conspiracy theorist,” Frankie smirked. Chuck didn’t think it was funny.

“Especially you!”

“Alright, he actually has a point,” Alex begrudgingly admitted. “Let’s keep it unbiased. Kris, you start.”

Kris put a finger to her lips in thought. “Hmm… oh, I know,” she smirked. “Never have I ever slid into someone’s DMs.”

Alex let out a loud burst of laughter. “Maybe if Trent was playing,” she commented.

“Jeez, Alex, just put me on blast,” Trent returned.

She just smirked and took another sip of beer.

Chapter 5

Step one for dealing with jealous, catty bitches was to look hotter than them. Check. Step two was to completely ignore them and live your best life. Check. Two drinks in and hanging with her boys and Kris, Alex was having a great night.

Trent nudged his chin at her. “Wanna do a body shot?”

Chuck nearly choked on his beer. “Fucking what?”

Alex smirked as she leaned toward him. “Are you hitting on me, Trent?”

“I don’t know,” he coolly returned. “Do you want me to be?”

She arched a brow. “My eyes are up here, big shooter.”

He pursed his lips. “Come on. You wanted me to look.”

She bit her lip as she sat back again. “No; let’s not. I don’t want to make Chuckie jealous.”

Chuck just rolled his eyes.

“I do want another drink, though.” She scooted past James and made her way to the bar. As soon as she was out of earshot, Chuck glared at Trent.

“A body shot?”

“Relax,” Trent said. “That was a test to see if Mariposa has joined us. Obviously, she has.”

James smirked. “Nice.”

Kris sent Trent a confused look. “Mariposa?”

Chuck sighed. “‘Mariposa’ is what we call Alex’s drunk alter ego.”

Kris’s eyes widened with excited curiosity when he said that. “Okay, I have to hear this.”

“Alex turns into the biggest flirt on planet Earth when she drinks, as I just clearly demonstrated,” Trent explained. “I guarantee you she’s not coming back from the bar. She’s gonna pick some poor unsuspecting target and spend the next ten minutes fluttering her eyelashes at him.”

“Hence, ‘Mariposa,’” James added.

“When we were in Vegas for Double or Nothing, Mariposa spent all night flirting with Chuck here,” Trent said as he pointed a thumb at Chuck. “It’s what gave him the balls to confess his undying love for Alex.”

Chuck smacked the tabletop. “Okay, again: I was also very drunk that night, and I’m not in love with Alex!”

James sent him a look. “Whatever you say, bud.”

He just grumbled and drank his beer.

“Anyway, we’ve turned it into a drinking game of sorts,” Trent said. “We like to make bets on who she’ll go after.”

Kris laughed into her drink. “Okay, that’s kind of messed up, but also kind of hilarious. Can I get in on it?”

“Absolutely,” Trent said. He waved his hand out over the room. “Please, make your selection.”

“Yes! Okay.” She eagerly looked around, searching for a pick. “What’s her type?”

“She likes beards,” James answered.

Kris frowned. “Hm. Well that knocks out my initial pick, then.”

“Who?” Trent asked.

She smirked. “Maxwell.”

“HA! Oh shit, I hope it’s Maxwell,” he laughed. “That would be fucking hilarious to watch.”

“I don’t think he’d know what to do with her,” James commented.

“Come on, Alex wouldn’t flirt with Maxwell,” Chuck dismissed. “He’s like seven years younger than her.”

“Well, it doesn’t look like he stands a chance, anyway,” Kris said with a nod toward the bar. “Cash certainly doesn’t waste any time.”

They all looked over. Sure enough, Alex was leaned back against the bar with Cash Wheeler standing just in front of her; and judging by their body language, they weren’t talking about the weather.

“Damn,” Trent said. “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. Alex looks fucking hot tonight.”

Chuck shot him a look.

“What?” he shot. “Like you didn’t notice.”

“I mean, I don’t swing that way and I noticed,” Kris admitted.

James smirked again. “Nice.”

Back at the bar, Alex let out a laugh as she flipped her long, dark brown hair over her shoulder and playfully hit Cash on the arm. Trent looked back at the others. “What did I say?” he said as he picked up his drink. “She’s not coming back.”

Chapter 8

Alex pushed her way back into the Best Friends’ locker room. James sent her a look from where he sat on the couch, watching the monitor in the corner. “Well. You won, at least,” he commented.

She completely ignored him as she crossed the room and sat down in her cubby. She was not in the mood—and it was obvious. He gave an apologetic sigh. “I’m sure Adam didn’t mean to do what he did,” he said. “Things happen in the heat of the moment.”

She continued to ignore him as she rifled through her suitcase. All she wanted was to get changed and leave—

“Alex.”

“What?” She glared at him. He frowned.

“Are you okay?”

The genuine look of concern on his face made her stop. No, she wasn’t okay. But before she could say so, Chuck and Trent came through the door. Neither of them so much as looked at Alex as they walked into the room. She grabbed her clothes and started for the bathroom—but then Trent said something that made her stop dead in her tracks.

“Are you fucking Kenny again?”

Chuck let out a frustrated breath. “Dude, come on,” he said; but Alex spoke over him.

“What?” Her voice came out in a hiss, full of venom. She couldn’t believe the nerve of him, asking her a question like that in front of Chuck and James. It wasn’t any of his business.

But he didn’t really care. “Chuck told me what happened before we left the hotel last week. And after what just happened out there… it sure seems like there’s something you need to come clean about, Alex.”

Alex took a step closer. “That’s not any of your fucking business, Trent.”

He scoffed. “That’s a yes.”

“Dude, lay off!” Chuck unexpectedly burst. “You’re being a total dick right now!”

Trent’s eyebrows arched. “I’m being a dick? She’s the one who’s been toying with your emotions for the last year!”

“WHAT?” Alex exclaimed. She was incensed. It took all of her not to throw her clothes in Trent’s face. Chuck must have thought she might because he jumped up and stood between them.

“Alex, I don’t think that, I swear,” he said. But Trent wasn’t done.

“Oh, don’t play dumb,” he spat. “You flirted with Chuck all the time while you were fucking Kenny last year because you knew he’d give you the attention you wanted but weren’t getting from Kenny. You take advantage of his feelings for you, Alex.”

“TRENT, SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Chuck whirled around to glare at him. James jumped up and stood between them.

“Okay, now’s probably not the best time for this,” he implored. But Alex had heard enough.

“Fuck you, Trent,” she spat. “And get off your high horse before you break your neck. It’s not like you’ve never tried it with me despite anyone’s feelings.”

She threw her clothes forcefully across the room and started toward the exit. Chuck’s shoulders slumped. “Alex, he’s not speaking for me!” he called. But she was already halfway out the door, trying to ignore the tears stinging at the back of her eyes.

Chapter 9

“I’m not trying to convince you that Kenny’s a bad guy. He’s not,” Trent added, as if he was worried that was what she thought he was trying to do. “I just think you deserve better than what he can probably give you.”

Trent looked back down at the floor, his piece said, and Alex did the same. But then she put the bag of candy down and pulled him into a tight hug. “It means a lot that you think that,” she said. “But you know only I can decide what’s best for me, Trent.”

“I know,” he said as he squeezed her back. “But I want the best for you, too.”

They hugged a few seconds longer before Alex pulled back. “Truce?” she asked.

He smirked. “Truce. I really don’t like fighting with you. You’re vicious.”

Her mouth dropped in mock-offense. “What?”

“Come on,” he flatly returned. “You didn’t need to throw out that comment about me trying it with you.”

“Well, you did,” she returned. “At New Year’s. Remember?”

“Yeah, I know what you were referring to,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “You looked hot that night, sue me.”

She smirked. “Aw, thanks, Trenty.”

“Shut up,” he muttered; but he was smirking, too. “Now are you gonna share those, or what?” He nodded at the Sour Patch Kids. “It’s a two-pound bag.”

Alex genially rolled her eyes as she picked up the bag and ripped it open. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous,” she said as she offered it to him, happy to have resolved at least one of her anxieties.

Chapter 15

With every word that came out of Matt’s mouth, Alex’s heart sunk deeper and deeper into the pit of her stomach. She felt sick. If what Matt said was true, then it cast that weekend nearly two months ago in a whole new terrible light. While she’d been cuddling in front of a fire with Cash, telling him she didn’t know what she and Kenny were, asking him to share a bed with her, Kenny had been thinking only of her. She’d thought he’d just been too busy to make time for her, when in reality he’d been planning to prove to her how much he cared; how much he wanted to change for her, just like he’d said. And she hadn’t given him a chance to prove it. She’d shot his chance dead in the water. She was absolutely disgusted with herself.

Matt’s voice cut through her thoughts. “I’m sorry. But I had to tell you because I know Kenny won’t.”

Alex didn’t say anything in response. She didn’t even look at Matt before she turned on her heel and left, walking swiftly through the halls to Gorilla, in a daze. Everyone else booked for the tag match was already there when she arrived, milling around, waiting for the show to get underway. Trent spotted her the same time she did him. “There you are,” he said. “Did you get lo—”

He didn’t finish his sentence. Alex had walked right up to him, wrapped her arms around his middle, and hugged herself tight against his chest.

Everyone around turned to look. Trent went stiff, unsure what to do. “Okay, Alex,” he said. “I’m a little confused, but I’m not gonna stop it if this is what you want.”

“Trent,” she breathed. “Please. I just need a hug from my friend right now.”

He must have heard the emotion in her voice, because she felt him relax after she said that. He wrapped his arms around her. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” she said.

There was a thoughtful pause. “Are you good to come out there with us?”

She didn’t answer right away. “I think so,” she decided.

“What the hell is this?” Alex suddenly heard Chuck proclaim. “I know you’re not leaving me out of a Best Friends hug right now.”

She felt Trent pick up one of his arms and make a motion as if he was cutting his hand across his throat, signaling to Chuck that now wasn’t the time for jokes. There was another pause. And then Chuck asked, “Are you okay, Alex?”

No, she thought. But she said, “I just need a minute.”

Trent rested his chin on top of her head. And then she heard James say, “Who do we have to murder?”

Me, Alex thought. But before she could say anything, Best Friends’ music started up.

Trent pulled back and looked down at her. “Are you sure you’re good?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

“Okay.” He squeezed her shoulders and nodded toward the entrance to the babyface tunnel. “Well let’s go, then. We have some Inner Circle ass to beat.”

Chapter 16

She grabbed her phone off her bed and walked back to the mirror. She mussed her long brown hair just so and half-tucked her oversized tank top into her cutoff shorts, adjusting it so that her lacy bralette peeked out of the low-cut neck, and struck a flattering pose. She must have taken twenty photos before she finally got one she liked. It was definitely a little bit sexy; but honestly, that was what she wanted. She opened up Instagram, chose the photo from her gallery, and typed up a caption. Feeling cute, might delete later #ootd. And then she hit “post.” To everyone else, it would just look like a typical girly Instagram post. But when Kenny saw the locket around her neck, he would know.

She tossed her phone back onto the bed and went back to cleaning out her dresser. She got through the rest of the t-shirts and most of the next drawer before she couldn’t stop herself from looking anymore.

She picked up her phone and opened Instagram. The picture already had a few dozen likes, mostly from fans but a few from friends. Trent had already commented. Your pockets are longer than your shorts. She rolled her eyes.

Chapter 17

Friday evening, music streamed through the speakers in Chuck’s apartment in Philadelphia. Alex had made the near six-hour trip from Roanoke earlier that day, and she felt like Chuck, Trent, and James had been falling over themselves to make sure she was happy ever since she’d arrived. Chuck had ordered in cheesesteaks for dinner from her favorite local spot. Trent had bought her not one, but two two-pound bags of Sour Patch Kids. And James was watching her drink like a hawk, waiting to fill it back up as soon as she was done. It was kind of unnerving, especially since he was wearing his sunglasses and she couldn’t see his eyes.

Not that she needed another drink at the moment. She and Chuck were playing beer pong against Trent and James—and they were getting their asses kicked.

Alex closed one eye and poked her tongue out of the corner of her mouth, aiming for a cup in the center of the triangle on the other end of the table. She shot; and it bounced off the rim.

“Come on,” Chuck breathed. “You’re the only one of us who went to college, you should be good at this!”

“You’ve only made one!” Alex returned with a motion to James and Trent’s nearly intact triangle of cups. “That’s just one more than none!”

While they were arguing, Trent took the opportunity to sink his ping pong ball into their last remaining cup.

“GREG!” Chuck shouted.

He smirked. “Drink up, buttercup.”

“No!” Alex proclaimed. “We get to shoot until we miss.”

“Why bother?” James remarked.

“Oh, you’re dead.” Chuck said. He picked up a ping pong ball and tossed it. It landed in the cup on the right bottom corner of the triangle. He threw his arms into the air. “YES! DRINK, YOU LITTLE BITCH!”

James just smirked and took a sip of his alcohol.

Trent rubbed his hands together. “Alright, Alex. It’s all on you.”

Alex got in her shooting stance. She wasn’t sure if closing one eye was helping or hurting at this point; she’d already had a few and was starting to feel it. She aimed and fired. It started to go in a cup in the middle—but Trent used his finger to flick it back out.

Alex’s eyes widened as she let out a gasp. “Oh, you’re never gonna get to see my tits now.”

Chuck choked on his drink. Trent’s eyebrows arched. “Were you gonna show them to me?!”

She gave a nonchalant shrug. “I don’t know, maybe. I know you’re jealous that Chuck and James got to see them when they walked in on me that one time.”

“He totally is,” James said.

Trent sucked his teeth. “Man…”

Alex just smirked and took a sip of her drink.

“And on that note,” Chuck said. “It’s time for shots.” He walked over to the kitchen and pulled out four shot glasses. “What flavor does everyone want?”

That was another thing Chuck had done: he actually had made the Sour Patch Kids-infused Vodka. And from what Alex understood, it had been a pain in the ass.

“Blue raspberry,” James answered.

“I’ll try cherry,” Trent said.

Chuck filled one shot glass with blue-colored vodka and another with red-colored vodka. “Alex?” he asked. But she wasn’t paying attention.

“Where’s my phone?” she asked. She looked around the room. She thought she’d left it on the arm of the couch, but it wasn’t there. She patted her pockets, making sure she hadn’t picked it up and forgotten like a dunce; but they were empty. She started to search the cushions of the couch—but Trent walked over to her.

“Your phone? Yeah, I hid it.”

She whirled around to look at him. “What?”

He smirked. “You shouldn’t have left it just sitting out in the open when you went to the bathroom.”

“Trent,” she sighed and rolled her eyes. “Give me my phone.”

He shook his head. “No.”

She put her hands on her hips. “I’ll show them to you.”

His eyes flicked down to her chest. He seemed to consider it; but then he looked back up. “No.”

“Trent…” she whined.

“Alex…” he mimicked.

She pouted. “Why’d you hide it?”

“Because.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “One, it’ll keep you from spending all night glued to your phone waiting for whoever to text. And two, it’ll keep you from drunk texting whoever, which I’m guessing you’re about one and a half drinks away from wanting to do.”

Alex fidgeted under his gaze. He wasn’t wrong. She’d been incessantly checking her phone ever since she’d arrived, each time hoping to see a text from Cash—and each time being disappointed. They hadn’t talked since that night at the hotel, and each hour that went by without hearing from him seemed longer than the last. She knew he was hurt; she didn’t blame him for not wanting to talk to her. But she just wanted to know if he was even thinking about her. And each time she looked at her phone and didn’t see his name, it was like another papercut on her heart.

“He’s right,” Chuck said. “Forget about your phone, and anything else going on outside this apartment, just for tonight. Alright?”

He offered her a shot glass full of bright green vodka. Lime. She thought back to two nights ago, remembered how she’d missed the person she was two months ago. Tonight was a chance to be that person again, even if just for a night.

She took the shot glass from Chuck’s hand. “Cheers,” she said, and she kicked it back.

* * * * * * * * * *

Alex woke up with Trent’s arm draped over her waist atop the blanket they shared. He must have rolled over in his sleep and flung it across her. She gently grabbed his wrist and picked it up, trying to place his arm down on the air mattress in between them; but he pulled it back and snuggled with his pillow, dead asleep. She smirked to herself. She’d always been jealous of how he could sleep like a fucking rock.

Chapter 20

“Okay. You, me, darts. If I win, you show me your boobs.”

Adam watched as Alex playfully rolled her eyes at Trent’s suggestion. She was a shot of Jose and a beer-and-a-half deep and feeling it; he could tell by the lazy smile on her lips. She always got that smile when she drank.

“And if I win?” she asked.

Trent looked up, deep in thought. “If you win… I’ll pay for your next set of gear.”

“Deal,” Alex immediately accepted, and she grabbed Trent’s wrist and pulled him over to the dart boards, a satisfied grin on his face. Adam shook his head as they went.

“Y’all are weird,” he said with a drink of his nearly empty beer.

“Oh come on,” Chuck returned. “You’ve known Alex longer than us. You were probably acquainted with Mariposa years before we ever gave her a name.”

He shook his head. “No comment.”

“That’s guilty,” James quipped.

“Yeah, it is,” Chuck smirked in agreement.

Adam drained the rest of his beer to hide his grin. He almost hadn’t come out with them tonight—he was surprised they’d still wanted to at all, after what the Inner Circle had done to Orange—but he was glad he had. If he hadn’t, he’d just be sitting in his hotel room, ruminating. About how his relationships with his girlfriend and his tag team partner were falling apart at the seams, about how he wasn’t sure who his real friends were anymore. Buzzing on whiskey and with nothing better to do, he’d confronted FTR back at the arena about what they’d done to Ricky Morton last week, about how Dax had faked a leg injury the week before that—and they’d completely turned it around on him. Something about how it wasn’t personal; how they’d needed to know if they could trust him after all the nasty things Matt, Nick, and Kenny had said about them; something about how he’d always been stuck in their shadow. They weren’t wrong. And with a tag team gauntlet match next week to determine who would get a shot at Adam and Kenny’s championships at All Out, Adam wasn’t sure he wanted to give Matt and Nick yet another opportunity to eclipse him.

“You guys want another?” James asked.

“Yeah,” Chuck said while Adam nodded. “Put it on Trent’s tab.”

James pointed at him as he stood from the table. “Was already planning on it.”

He walked off, and Adam’s eyes drifted to where Alex played darts with Trent. She stood close to him, her fingers laced behind her back, and just as he was about to throw his dart, she tilted her chin up, pursed her lips, and blew into his ear. He flinched, and she let out a loud laugh as he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close to say something in her ear. Alex pushed him away, a flirtatious grin on her face, and Trent turned back to the board and threw his dart.

“Trent certainly seems to like Mariposa,” Adam remarked.

Chuck scoffed as he glanced over his shoulder. “Are you kidding? He loves her.” He turned back around. “It annoyed me when I had feelings for Alex, too.”

* * * * * * * * * *

“You do realize you’re about to lose, right?”

She pursed her lips at Trent. “We haven’t been scoring properly.”

“But I’ve gotten more closer to the bullseye than you.”

Alex just took another sip of her beer. Trent squared up and tossed his final dart. It stuck in the single bullseye.

He gave her a cocky smirk. “I’d say that’s a pretty definitive victory.”

“Congratulations,” she slyly returned.

He rubbed his hands together, basking in his win. “So, where do you want to do this? The bathroom? Actually, no—I can wait until we get back to the hotel. I want you to be as comfortable as possible.”

Alex stepped close and put her hand on his shoulder; he reflexively put his on her hip. She frowned apologetically up at him. “Oh, Trent. Mariposa made the bet, but it’s Alex’s body.”

His head fell back. “Goddammit,” he breathed.

A wide grin broke out over her face. “Come on, I need a refill.”

Chapter 22

There was a beat of shocked silence. Alex tensed, bracing for their reaction. And then Chuck gaped, “Callie broke up with Adam and now she’s staying with Matt Jackson?”

She nodded again. “Apparently.”

More silence. And then Jim said, “That’s a clear violation of bro code.”

“No shit,” Trent added. “What an asshole.”

“Of the highest order,” Alex agreed. “After Adam did what he did, Matt came barging in here to scream at me about how I must have had something to do with it.”

Trent blinked and shook his head, his eyebrows arched high on his forehead, like he didn’t comprehend what she’d just said. “I’m sorry, what?”

Alex rolled her eyes. “Matt thinks I put Adam up to sabotaging them,” she muttered.

“What?” Chuck shot. “Why?”

“Because he’s a dick,” she returned. “He said I had ‘every reason’ to do it and that I have Adam wrapped around my finger just like I do Kenny.”

Alex stared at the floor, anxiously chewing at her lip. Of all the awful things Matt had said, that was what had hurt her the most. She didn’t give a shit what he thought about her—but if there was even a chance that Kenny or Adam felt that way, like she’d manipulated them somehow… she wouldn’t be able to bear it.

“Okay, let me get this straight,” Trent said, pulling her out of her thoughts. “Matt violated bro code by shacking up with his friend’s ex-girlfriend—”

“Major violation,” Jim interjected.

“—and then when Adam retaliated, Matt barged in here and blamed you for it?”

“More or less,” Alex confirmed.

Trent stared back at her, stunned. And then he at looked Orange. “Jim, let’s go.”

He abruptly stood from his seat. Jim did the same, albeit much more lazily.

“What’re you doing?” Alex charged.

“Not letting Matt get away with being a complete fucking asshole to you,” Trent answered, and he went out the door, James right behind him. Alex jumped up and went after them.

“Trent, wait. I handled it!”

“I’m sure you did,” he returned. “And I’m gonna back you up.”

“I don’t need you to!”

“Well I’m gonna back up Adam then, how about that?”

Alex stopped, taken aback by his response. Pride swelled in her chest. Suddenly, she didn’t want to stop him anymore.

She hurried to catch up with them as they marched around the corner toward the Elite’s locker room—and she nearly froze again. Matt and Nick were approaching from the other end of the hall, and they both looked just as pissed as Trent.

“Perfect!” Trent proclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. “Just who I was looking for.”

Matt’s brow lowered. “Oh yeah? For what? Come to gloat about your dirty win?”

“Yikes,” Trent winced. “Someone sounds salty.”

“What do you want, Trent?” Nick shot.

“That’s a great question, Nick!” They all came to a stop as they met in the middle of the hall, Trent across from Matt, Jim across from Nick. Trent’s eyes narrowed down at Matt. “I would like to know why the hell your brother thinks Alex had anything to do with Hangman screwing you two over when he’s the one who’s trying to screw his ‘friend’s’ ex-girlfriend.”

Matt balked. “Excuse me?” He turned dark, hostile eyes on Alex. “Is that what you told him? That I’m trying to—”

“Don’t talk to her,” Trent firmly cut him off. “I asked you the question, so you fucking talk to me.”

Alex held her breath. Matt glared at Trent. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Really? Because the situation seems pretty obvious to me.”

“Yeah? Well then put two-and-two together, Trent,” Matt spat. “You want to talk about screwing? Alex here is fucking one half of the tag team champions, and the other half wants to fuck her. Oh, and the guys who won the gauntlet? She was fucking one of them, too. Probably still is, I honestly don’t know. So yeah, I think she had a hand in screwing us over. More than a hand, pr—”

He was abruptly cut off when Trent’s fist collided hard with his jaw. He dropped like a rock to the floor.

Alex let out a gasp and jumped back. Nick started for Trent, but Jim pushed him and sent him stumbling over his brother so that he had to catch himself against the wall. Matt blinked on the floor, dazed. Trent loomed over him, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

“That was for Adam, too. And if I ever hear Alex’s name in your mouth again, I’ll hold you down so she can punt you in the dick.”

He gave him one final threatening glare, and then he turned and took Alex’s hand. “Come on.”

He pulled her back down the hall. Jim didn’t immediately follow them. Instead, he held up his hands, stuck up both his middle fingers at Matt and Nick, and then turned and walked nonchalantly away.

Alex was in a state of shock as Trent led her around the corner. “Holy shit,” she breathed.

“Are you alright?” He stopped and looked down at her hand that he still held. “You’re shaking.”

“I’m okay. Just… shocked.” She let out a breath, “At this rate everyone on the roster is gonna get punched in the face because of me.”

“No, Matt got punched in the face because of Matt,” he corrected. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I think you should’ve punted him in the dick then,” Jim added.

A grateful smile curled the corners of her lips. “Well, thank you. This time I’m not upset that someone got punched.”

Trent returned her grin and gave her hand a squeeze; but then he winced and pulled away. Alex frowned in concern.

“Is your hand alright?”

“I think so.” He flexed his fingers and looked at his knuckles. They were red and angry. “I should probably ice it, though. He’s got a hard fucking head.”

She smirked. “Well come on then, Rocky. Let’s get you some ice for that right jab.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Alex and the boys had left the arena as soon as they could. After the heartbreak of the gauntlet match and the chaos of the aftermath, they’d decided to grab some burgers, go back to the hotel, and just veg out in front of the TV for the rest of the evening. It was doing the trick; Alex felt a lot better now that she had a greasy bag full of Five Guys fries, even if she did have to share them with Trent.

“I still can’t believe I missed you drop Matt Jackson,” Chuck proclaimed as he bit into a french fry.

“Yeah, it was pretty bad-ass,” Trent casually stated as he sat next to Alex on her bed. “Alex was super turned on by it.”

Alex sputtered out a laugh. “What? I did not say that.”

“You didn’t have to,” he returned with a wink.

She pursed her lips and snatched the bag of fries from him. “You don’t get any more for that.”

“Someone sounds called out,” Jim remarked. Trent smirked. Alex glared at them both.

Chapter 23

Alex didn’t want to sit backstage any longer. She hurried to Gorilla and went through the tunnel and down the ramp. She shot Santana and Ortiz a glare as she passed them and ducked through the ropes. They smirked and talked shit, but she ignored them as she knelt next to Trent on the mat.

“Hey, are you okay?”

He didn’t look thrilled to see her. “What’re you doing out here?” he groaned.

She just pursed her lips and helped him sit up. He was obviously in pain. Chuck rolled into the ring and they both helped Trent to his feet.

“What happened?” Chuck asked.

Alex glowered at the retreating backs of Santana and Ortiz. “Santana hit Trent with that baton of his. Bryce didn’t see it.”

“Fuck,” Chuck breathed.

They all exited the ring and went back up the ramp. Trent leaned on Alex’s shoulders and she wrapped her arm around his waist for support as they walked slowly back through the tunnel. Gorilla was full of people when they returned backstage. An eight-man tag match was next, pitting SCU and Private Party against Jurassic Express and the Young Bucks; the winning teams would face each other that Saturday at All Out. Alex noticed Matt and Nick out of the corner of her eye, but she ignored them. Unfortunately, Matt and Nick didn’t give them the same courtesy.

“Sucks losing unfairly, doesn’t it?” Nick smirked.

Alex shot him a venomous glare. “Mind your business, Nick.”

Matt let out a laugh. “Oh, that’s rich.”

“Alright, seriously,” Chuck spoke up. “I’ve had enough of your bullshit and I wasn’t even there when Trent knocked your ass out.”

“He didn’t knock me out,” Matt insisted again.

Alex scoffed. “Yeah he fucking did.”

He turned his glare on her. “Why don’t you go get bent, Alex? It’s what you’re best at.”

Trent pulled away from her and walked threateningly up to Matt. Nick stepped between them, but he completely ignored him. “I thought I warned you about saying anything to her ever again.”

Matt nodded. “Yeah, you did. But you didn’t do shit about it last night, and you won’t do shit about it now.”

“Try me,” Trent challenged.

A cruel, cocky smirk curled Matt’s lips. “Alex is a sl—”

Trent lunged for him, but Nick pushed him back. Chuck ran over and grabbed Nick, spun him around and tossed him away, and with the coast clear, Trent speared Matt into a stack of equipment crates with a violent crash. The four of them starting brawling, throwing fists left and right, but the chaos was short-lived. Jurassic Express pried apart Chuck and Nick while SCU did the same for Trent and Matt. The latter pair fought tooth and nail to get back at each other.

“You want your mixed tag match?” Matt shouted as he strained against Kazarian’s grip. “You got it, next Wednesday. And I’ll make sure I knock you the fuck out.”

“You’re on,” Trent spat. “But trust me: you won’t even get the chance to try before Alex makes your girl tap.”

He shoved Scorpio off him, and he, Chuck, and Alex backed out of Gorilla, the gauntlet officially thrown.

Chapter 25

They all reset, and Shawn served the ball. Chuck easily bumped it back, but when Callie scrambled to hit it over the net, it flew straight up into the air instead. Cash rushed forward as it came back down and whacked it as hard as he could—sending it flying like a missile right at Alex. She didn’t even have time to pivot before it beaned her hard in the shoulder and careened off into the water.

“Shit!” she cursed.

“Point!” Dax loudly proclaimed.

“Really?!” Chuck shouted. “You have something smart to say about Alex spiking the ball but nothing about Cash hitting it as hard as he can right at her?”

“Come on, it wasn’t on purpose,” Cash defended. He looked at Alex through the net. “I’m sorry. Are you alright?”

Alex gripped her shoulder as she stared back at him. It stung from the impact of the wet volleyball and was throbbing already. There would undoubtedly be a nice bruise there tomorrow. However, to Cash’s credit, he seemed genuinely remorseful—but then she noticed Callie roll her eyes over his shoulder. She bit down on her jaw.

“I’m fine.”

He frowned, but she turned away and looked at Trent. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.

She nodded. “Serve the ball.”

She rolled her shoulder and turned back to face the net. Trent served the ball. It went right to Peyton and she hit it back over. Orange popped it up, and just like she had before, Alex spiked the ball to the other side.

Crack!

“FUCK!”

Except that time, it hit Callie right in the face.

Blood poured from her nose and dripped into the pool. Peyton told her to pinch her nostrils and tilt her head forward. Cash rushed to her side through the water. He glared daggers at Alex.

“What the fuck, Alex?”

She opened her mouth to say it was an accident, to assure them it was, but no sound came out. Her vocal cords were frozen.

“It was an accident,” Trent returned.

“Didn’t look like it from here,” Dax chirped.

“Oh, shut up,” Chuck groaned.

“It was an accident!” Alex finally blurted. She looked at Callie’s retreating back as Cash helped her toward the pool steps. “Callie, I’m sorry.”

But she didn’t acknowledge her at all, and then Cash whisked her away, holding a towel to her nose. Thankfully, Dax went with them.

“Well, I guess that’s the end of that,” Shawn awkwardly announced. Peyton shot him a chastising look, and then they exited the pool and left, too.

Alex stared in silence into the water. Her nose burned. She hadn’t meant for that to happen. She hadn’t meant for Callie to get hurt. She didn’t want it to be like this between them anymore. She wanted her friend back.

“Hey,” Trent waded over to her. She felt him put his hand on the small of her back underneath the water. “It was an accident,” he gently repeated. “She’ll be alright.”

Alex’s nose burned even more when he said that. “I’m gonna go see if Kenny’s ready to leave,” she said, and she didn’t wait for a response before she climbed out of the pool, grabbed her things, and left.

#aew fanfiction #trent?#trent beretta #best friends #best friends fanfiction #trent beretta fanfiction

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

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68 from the winter prompt list seems Very sternclay and I would love to see your take on it, nsfw if it fits would be great too, thank you!!!

Here you go, it is indeed NSFW!

68. you’re obsessed with my homemade soup that I serve at my cafe and I’m too embarrassed to tell you that I’ve only been trying out new recipes to see you get excited for the soup of the day

Stern tries to avoid being rude in public, or in general, really. But right now he’s wondering if he can get away with shoving his face into this soup bowl and licking out the bottom. The food at Amnesty Lodge has always been stellar, but lately the soups are the highlight of his day.

Reluctantly, he leaves the last delicious dregs at the bottom of the blue ceramic bow and heads to the counter to pay his bill.

“How was everything?” Dani rings him up with a smile.

“Incredible. I swear, Barclay out does himself every time I come.”

“Great! I’ll tell him you said so. I know he loves getting feedback on new recipes.”

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

“You did not say that.” Barclay drags the rag down the counter top.

“Okay, so I didn’t add ‘especially from guys who he thinks are hot,’you got me.” She smirks as she clocks out.

“It’s not my fault he’s so cute when he gets excited about food.”

“Barclay, just ask him out already.”

“But he’s a customer!”

“Who you also see once a week at game night at Duck’s. He’s for sure in friend territory at this point.”

“She’s got a point. Besides, sometimes flirting with customers ends well.” Aubrey leans against the kitchen door, twirling her car keys and winking at her girlfriend, “right, honey?”

“Absolutely, firebug.” Dani loops her arm around Aubrey’s waist, then levels Barclay with the look that routinely makes people mistake her for his little sister, “ask him out, or I am going to leave your number on his check the next time he comes in.”

“Okay, okay” He holds up his hands, chuckling, “you win.”

He waves goodnight, finishes locking up once the two women are gone. Then he climbs the stairs home. Amnesty Lodge was a real lodge, once upon a time. But as the city grew and buildings were divided and repurposed, only the restaurant and the rooms above it, plus the small house next door, remained. Mama, the owner, lives in the house, and Barclay has the apartment. It’s nice; he has no commute, he can run up and change if he gauges his layers wrong, and he likes being able to hear the river running nearby and the traffic humming through his window.

Maybe Joseph would like to come up here after closing some night for coffee? Or is that too forward? Would he be interested if it was forward, or if they took it slow? Would he be interested in Barclay at all? Does he just like him for his soup?

God, the soup. He never meant for it to become a thing. His usual menu had three or four soups of the day in rotation, but then Joseph ordered a bowl of the corn cheddar chowder to go with his club sandwich and ate it so joyfully that Barclay caught him licking his spoon. Which did nothing to quash his budding crush on the guy. So he started trying out new recipes just to see Joseph get excited, and now it seems like Joseph is coming in just for the soup, and the upshot is he may be stuck forever in a soup-loop because of the way Joseph’s eyes crinkle when he’s happy.

He knows that Joseph agreeing to a date would make him happier than a fresh produce delivery. But he has no clue if he really stands a chance with a guy who’s always well-dressed and friendly, when he himself is an often quiet, scraggly looking cook.

Well, if nothing else, he has to try. Dani is not a woman of empty threats.

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

“How do you do it?” Joseph rests his chin in his hand, spoon sitting in his empty bowl. He’s at the counter seating, so he can see Barclay working at the grill.

“Do what?”

“Come up with such good recipes. And don’t try to say it’s cookbooks; you said last week that you’ve come up with a lot of them on your own.”

“It’s, uh, it’s nothing special, just a lot of tinkering.” He gets an idea, one that flashes over him so hot and fast he’s afraid the stove caught fire.

“Would, uh, would you like to help me out with the newest one? I get off in an hour since I was on the early shift today.”

“I’d love to! I have some errands to run downtown, so as much as I’d like to hang around for an hour and watch you show off, I’ll see you at seven.” He sets down the cash to cover the bill and a tip, winks, and heads out the door. Barclay really hopes he stays in the suit when he comes back.

“Uh, dude?”

“Yeah, Jake?”

“Toast’s on fire.”

“Fuck!”

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

Barclay finishes setting out his mise en place right as there’s a knock on the front door. He swings it open and finds Joseph waiting patiently, a grocery bag slung over his shoulder. He’s still in his suit; Barclay can just spot his black tie with little ufos on it peeking out of his winter coat.

“Dani said I should just come on up.” He slips off his shoes, revealing socks with Bigfoot on them, “and I brought some wine, and a fancy beer I found at Jenny Street Market, since I wasn’t sure what kind of soup it is.”

“My take on a traditional Irish stew, so let's do the beer.” Barclay grabs two pint glasses and pours as Joseph finishes hanging up his coat and joins him in the kitchen. He’s down to his dress shirt and slacks, eagerly rolling up his sleeves before taking the glass.

“Right, what do we do first?”

Barclay takes a prolonged sip to avoid blurting out his real answer, then starts explaining that they need to figure out the right ratio of vegetable to lamb and which spices work best in the stock.

They talk as they work, Joseph sharing his theories on the plausible plot twists in this season of Agent X and Barclay teasing him whenever he gets going on a tangent about the monster of the week episodes. The easy back and forth, the warmth of the apartment as the air fills with spices and butter, the way the kitchen lights plays off Joseph’s face; it feels like a home, and his stomach twists whenever he remembers that the other man will leave in an hour or two.

“Barclay, I have to ask; why the sudden zest for soup?” Joseph sets his glass down, still half full because they’re talking too much to drink more than a sip at a time.

“Uhhh, just, uhh a good fit for a winter menu.” Barclay sets the lid onto the dutch oven; it’ll take at least forty-five minutes for this batch to thicken and develop flavor. When he hazards a glance at Joseph, the man is studying him, one eyebrow raised.

“Is that all?”

He washes his hands to buy time to build up his courage, then sighs, “Nope. It started after the first time you ordered it. You just got so excited whenever I had a new soup of the day, and I liked making you feel that way, so I just kept finding or making new recipes I hoped you’d like. Heh” he rubs his wrist, anxious, “sounds hella weird when I say it out loud like that.”

Turning, he finds Joseph with his hands covering his mouth.

“Fuck, sorry, probably shouldn’t have confessed that when we’re alone-”

“What? Oh, Barclay,” Joseph steps forward, taking his hands, “I’m not upset, I’m shocked. That’s, um, that’s one of the sweetest things anyone’s done for me, going to all that trouble, you didn’t have to.” The words are a bit stuttery and jumbled, Joseph going pinker after each one.

“I wanted to. I’d make a whole new menu every day if it’d make you smile that way.”

His lower back bangs into the counter as Joseph crowds him, fingers digging into his hair so roughly that it starts coming loose from its tie. He tastes like beer and stock he kept sampling, and Barclay licks it up, pressing his tongue between his welcoming lips, desperate to bring them as close together as possible.

Joseph pulls away, resting their foreheads together, as he undoes Barclay’s shirt with ruthless efficiency, “Do you have any idea how hot that is?”

“The...doing nice things for you part?” He cups Joseph’s cheeks, trailing his thumbs over the hints of five o’ clock shadow.

“You went to all that trouble, just for me.” Joseph drags his mouth up Barclay’s neck as he continues, “just to make me happy.”

“I mean, made me happy too.” He mumbles into black hair.

“I’m trying to compliment you, big guy.” Joseph nips his bottom lip.

“Oh fuck.” He whimpers at the nickname, at the way the other man doesn’t hesitate to shove his hands up his now-bare chest, demanding and adoring, “guess all those jokes about the way to a man’s heart being through his stomach are true.”

“While the food helps, there’s so much more about you that I like. For instance” he drags his hands down to Barclay’s stomach before palming his hardening cock through his jean, “you’re the most handsome man in town.”

He whimpers louder this time, Joseph keeping up the light pressure on his cock.

“Bedroom?” It’s both an encouragement and a question, the ton letting Barclay know he’s welcome to continue but not obligated to.

“The, can’t, can’t leave the stove unattended.” He gropes Joseph’s ass through his slacks, kisses his neck as he tries to calculate if turning off the stew will mess up the recipe.

“I love how responsible you are.” It’s another compliment, a dead serious one, “and I have an idea.” He steps back, hurries over to the grocery bag, and pulls out a small, rectangular box.

“I couldn’t tell if this was a date, so I decided to be on the safe side.” He surveys the kitchen, “feel like picking a surface to bend me over?”

Barclay practically knocks a stack of cookbooks off the tiny kitchen table, dragging a laughing Joseph over to shove him across it.

“This okay?” He pants as he covers the back of his neck with kisses.

“Better than okay. Barclay please, I’ve, um, I’ve been thinking about this for weeks, and basically non-stop for the last two hours.”

“Fucking-A” He’s amazed there isn’t a cartoonish boi-oi-oing when he gets his pants and boxers down, his cock--his whole being, really--aching for the chance to fuck the man in front of him. Getting Joseph’s pants down takes two tries, and opening the condom takes three because he’s shaking so hard from excitement.

“Need a hand, big guy?”

“Nope. Just need this.”

“FUCKohfuck, shit” Joseph reaches forward, gripping the far edge of the table as Barclay sinks into him, “yes, need it too, need you so bad.”

“You got me babe” he loops one arm around Joseph’s hips, sets his free hand next to his on the table for balance, “and I got you.” He starts slow, relishing every little sound he gets in reply to his thrusts, kissing any exposed skin he can find, then rucking Joseph’s shirt up his back to find more.

Joseph’s hand moves down towards his cock, but Barclay gently guides it back onto the table, “No need to babe. Like I said, I got you.”

He doesn't mean to start railing him the instant after his fingers find his cock. It’s more that feeling him soaking and hard, all because of (and all for) him, the grateful moan he lets out at the contact, the way he grinds his hips back and forth, it sets off every part of Barclay’s brain at once, and all he wants to do is take him, make him cum, break the fucking table showing him how much he wants him.

“Ohmylord” Joseph gasps, raising his head, “oh my fucking--Barclay yes, like that, lord you don;t disappoint.” His smile is ecstatic, more than the worlds clumsiest hand-job deserves, and Barclay forces his fingers to find their professional finesse, rub and stroke in the ways that make Joseph beg for more.

He growls as he feels his orgasm building; not yet, no fucking way, he wants to feel Joseph cum around him. With Herculean effort, he stills his hips and focuses, growling again as Joseph tightens around him. When the man beneath him cums, the last of his restraint evaporates and he hammers into him, table scraping forward inch by inch in time with his grunts and Joseph’s weakening moans.

His climax doubles him over, and he spills with a muffled moan, mouthing at Joseph’s shoulder through his shirt.

Then his legs give, ten minutes of furious fucking after a ten hour shift enough for them to peace out. He lands with an “oof” on the floor, and Joseph is laughing again as he turns to stare down at him.

“Are you okay down there?”

He gives a thumbs up, “Cute guy just shorted out all my circuits, no big.”

Joseph fixes his pants and shirt, joins him on the floor and pulls him into his arms, “I’d say it was very big.”

Barclay snickers, rests his head on his shoulder, “Walked into that one. Gimme sec, then I can make us some dinner. Don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

“We’re not having soup?”

Barclay kisses his cheek, “Nah, you can have that for dinner tomorrow at the Lodge.”

Joseph’s smile is full of delicious trouble, “How about for breakfast?”

He holds him close, smiling at him, “Babe, you got yourself a deal.”

#agent stern/barclay #sternclay #winter fills #trans agent stern

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