#my family needs to stop having fancy events and just celebrate a birthday ordering a pizza and eating at home

[torialefay]

"(Birthday) Queen Reigns Supreme" 🎂👑

chan x bday!fem!reader x felix smut 🔞

✨ synopsis: no birthday plans means you get dragged along to your best friend's company dinner party... no plans after that means you're getting fucked by your crush(es?).

✨ warnings: kinda possessive chan, felix is a little more than a cuck, unprotected sex, etc.

✨ notes: this work was catered towards our sweet Reign [ @chrizzztopherbang ] for her birthdayyy 👑 some of the plot is specific at the beginning (i tried (very poorly) to make things more british-y), but it becomes less specific after the first few paragraphs 🌟

“You have literally zero plans. Please, just go out with us. It will be way more fun than staying cramped up inside all day on your birthday,” Minho stated matter-of-factly. “And between me and you, if I have to go out, you should have to go out too.”

You stared at your best friend, annoyed. “I shouldn’t have to do anything when it’s my birthday.” You crossed your arms.

As much as you would have loved spending your birthday with family, it was so hard with them being spread all over. Even with your twin sister, you’d have to settle with a video call to celebrate each other as she was too far away. Each of your friends, including Minho of all people, had made prior commitments, leaving you pretty much alone for your birthday.

Not that you particularly cared. You’d never been one to care about your birthday actually. To you, it was just another day. Nothing special. Ordering in some food and cuddling up on the couch hadn’t sounded bad at all.

You had thought that your best friend felt the same way about birthdays, and to be fair, you were pretty certain he was just using the day as an excuse to get you to come with him to his company’s dinner party. You knew there was no way he could get out of it, because if he could, he would have shut it down 2 minutes after being told about it.

You fidgeted with your hair, contemplating just how many people you were going to have to talk to if you said yes. You had a massive case of RBF, so were you going to have to worry about it all night? Would you have to wear a tight, fancy dress? You always preferred something more loose. How long was this gonna last? Your social battery ran out after so long. Would you even know anyone else there? What if it’s just Minho and things get awkward?

“Chan will be there,” Minho stated, as if reading your mind.

You froze. ‘Yeah, I guess a company party would include Chris… and the rest of the boys.’ It had honestly just skipped your mind. You loved Minho’s friends, so you were at ease knowing that you’d get to see some familiar faces. But Chris? Chris Bang… he makes things different.

“Well now I extra don’t want to go!” you exclaimed, feeling your heart rate rise.

“Why? I thought you’d be happy to know that the guy you’ve been crushing on for, hmmm, I don’t know, 4 years now?, would be at an event you were attending… So you could actually, you know, talk to him?” Minho countered sarcastically.

“Absolutely not. I would rather die.”

That settled it. You weren’t going.

“Why?! I have begged you for years to let me put in a good word for you, and you won’t let me. You’re in love with him. He needs to find someone who will actually be nice to him. I have to hear about both sides every damn day. Please, just do it so that my life will be easier,” he huffed.

He was always on one.

“You know I can’t talk to him. I get so awkward, and I can’t think straight. Embarrassing myself in front of him isn’t exactly my idea of a great birthday.”

Minho rolled his eyes, letting out a deep puff of air. “Fine. Well, if you won’t go for him, will you go for the free alcohol? That, plus the members all miss you. They ask about you a lot. Even Chan,” he emphasized, making his eyes go big. “But we’re not talking about him. So the others and the alcohol. Come onnn- I swear I’ll make it fun,” Minho pleaded.

You shook your head with a smile. “Fine, you win. But we’re still stopping to get my favourite cake on the way home.”

"You know you're not sly, yeah?" you laughed at Seungmin while clinging tightly to the glass of wine in your hand.

You and the boys had basically ditched the dinner party at this point, opting instead to sit out on the rooftop patio while continuously refilling your drinks. After a few shots had been downed, Binnie suggested his go-to game of truth or dare. And there was no use in telling drunk Bin “no.” He was gonna win every time.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Seungmin replied, cocky grin on his face, as he walked back toward the table.

“We saw you put your hand over his mouth! Do ov-er! Do ov-er! Do ov-er!” Changbin began to chant.

Felix, following quickly behind Seungmin plopped himself back down at his spot at the table. “Why am I being punished? It’s not even my turn!” he jokingly yelled.

“That’s what you get for having the most delicious looking lips out of everyone here!” Changbin drunkenly yelled, dramatic as ever. “Raise your hand if you too would have picked Felix if you were dared to kiss anyone here,” Bin addressed the group loudly.

One by one, smiles arose on faces as each member snaked a hand up, including Felix. Laughs broke out as they realized they were in unison… until noticing you were the only one without your hand up.

Changbin was the first to notice, pointing his finger at you to draw attention. “Y/n doesn’t have her hand up!” he showed in his loud voice.

You just dropped your mouth wide open, staring at Binnie with a look of disbelief. You tried your best to act mad at him for pointing it out, but failed miserably. The wine circulating through had put you in too much of a good mood.

“What?! You would pick someone else over me?!” Felix pried, bringing his hands to his chest as he faked being offended.

Minho must have sensed the slight panic you were feeling, taking it upon himself to speak. “Considering Got7 is here, she’s picking either Jinyoung or Jackson. You boys were never in the equation.”

‘Thank god for you, Lee Minho,’ you thought, grateful for his quick cover-up. Although it was basically the truth.

Considering the fact that Lee Know was the only one who wasn’t drinking tonight, you knew he’d never let you live this favor down.

“Well then if you had to pick someone hereee, right now,” Felix continued.

“I’m not sayinggg,” you giggled.

“Well fine,” Felix said, sticking his tongue out.

“It’s your turn now anyway,” Binnie started. “Y/n, truth or dare?”

“Truth,” you responded without giving yourself time to think.

“Okay. Then who out of the members would you rather kiss?” He asked, smirk stretching across his face as he laughed.

“Fucking hell,” you smiled while rolling your eyes. “Nevermind. Dare.”

“I DARE you to tell us who out of the members you would rather kiss.”

Cackles erupted from the rest of the members, scrunching up their eyes and bringing their hands up to cover their faces or to clap excitedly. This was too good for them.

You stuck your tongue in your cheek, shaking your head in disbelief. You chuckled lightly, knowing you should’ve expected nothing less from Changbin… or any of them really.

“You’re not gonna let this go, are you?” you giggled, looking directly at Bin.

“Hey, you’re the one who didn’t put their hand up for Felix! You did this to yourself!” Bin said, putting the focus back on you.

“Fineeee, fine,” you said, blushing while directing your attention down to your glass. You couldn’t bare to say it while looking at them. “If I HAVE to pick… I’m choosing Chan,” you mumbled.

“Oooo”’s and little kissy noises popped up out of the members’ mouths as you continued to look away. You wanted to disappear.

“What does he have that I don’t have?!” Felix said dramatically, clutching his chest. Wine-drunk Felix’s antics were good enough to rival even the best of actors.

You finally brought your head up to face the members, feeling more confident that you now had something to work with. “I just always thought he was the cleanest one out of you lot,” you joked, hoping to mull over the situation.

As you finally locked eyes with Chan, you saw a subtle smirk on his face. Did he know? Had he always known?

“That’s not true,” Felix said with a pout, crossing his arms to give up.

“You’re just hurt that not every one of us is in love with you! Don’t lie, little lover boy!” Bin threw back to Felix.

Felix didn’t bother to respond, still fake-pouting and looking away.

“You’re my next choice, Lixie,” you reassured him, reaching your hand out and making a patting motion, hoping it would pacify him… And it did.

“Okay, fine. I can accept that,” he said theatrically, holding his head high.

All you could do was shake your head and laugh as you all went on with the night.

“Hey, y/n, could I talk to you for a second?” Chan asked, walking up from behind you as you’d been making your way with Lee Know through the car park.

You shot Lee Know a quick look, mouth dropped slightly as your brows turned inquisitive. Minho nodded, trying his best to hold back a greedy smirk but failing miserably. You wanted to hit him over the head, but knew it was inappropriate considering the situation.

“Yeah, yeah sure,” you said, pulling back from Lee Know a bit.

“I’ll go ahead and warm up the car. Just come on whenever you’re ready to go,” he nodded at both of you before turning on his heels to head off. You knew that the second his face was out of sight that he had put on a shit-eating grin.

Suddenly feeling a bit nervous now that you were alone with Chan, you knew you’d need to try playing off any nerves you felt. The last thing you wanted on your birthday was to feel like a blubbering idiot in front of your crush.

“What’s going on?” you asked, trying to seem nonchalant.

“What you said earlier about me. Did you mean it?” he asked plainly, as if he had not a care in the world.

Chan smirked as it took you a moment to get your footing. You never dreamed he’d be this direct about it.

“I mean,” you looked off to the side a bit. “Yeah, I think you probably do have the best hygiene. It just made sense,” you shrugged.

Chan wasn’t fooled in the slightest, just bouncing his head up and down to follow along. “If that’s the story you want to go with, then okay,” he said lowly, coming in closer and bringing his mouth to your ear. “Or you can be honest with yourself and come home with me tonight instead.”

Your face turned bright red. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t dreamt of a scenario like this before, but dreams were just dreams. You could act cool in your dreams. But right now? You had no clue what to say.

“Chris, I-,” you struggled to find the right words. “I don’t want things to be weird between us just because of what I said. I don’t want you to think that this is what I was after. It’s not like-.” Chris cut you off.

“Y/n, I’ve had my eyes on you for well over 2 years now and never did a damn thing about it because I didn’t know how you felt. Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, but for fuck’s sake, just come home with me and let me treat you to a good birthday.”

You felt a light sensation on your palm as he reached for your hand, locking it into his own.

You looked up to find his eyes. “Fine... But Minho promised me cake first.”

With devious grins, you both ran to the car where Lee Know was waiting, sliding yourselves into the backseat.

“Mind if we throw in a different stop?” Chan said enthusiastically as he climbed in. “My place?” He smiled, looking at you as he projected his voice toward the front.

“It’s about fucking time,” Minho huffed, chuckling to himself. “Cake first, and then I’ll take you two wherever you want to go.”

“I really am the best fucking friend ever,” he mumbled inaudibly, shaking his head as he threw the car in gear.

Chris wasted no time once you’d entered his house, slamming the door behind him and automatically pinning you to the wall.

“What does the birthday princess want, huh?” he growled, going in directly to cage your body in and connect his lips to yours. He left no time for you to give a response, instead opting to throw his tongue across yours and bite all around, hungrily.

One hand of his pressed against the wall next to your head and the other holding taunt to your jaw, his chest pressed into you so tightly you almost couldn’t breathe. There was no way you could get so much as movement in from this position. He had fully control.

Moans escaped his mouth as he continued to throw himself into you, using his hand as leverage to pull your face into his so there would be no time for space to come in between you. With a quick pop, he pulled his mouth from yours, a string of saliva still intermingled to connect your lips to each other.

As hungrily as he’d started on your lips, he found his way down your neck and onto your collar bone. He licked and bit away until small welts began to form, causing a breathy moan to escape your lips.

“Chan,” you breathed out, trying to collect enough cognition to verbalize your thoughts. “Chan you can’t. People can’t know.” You strained your face. It pained you to even have to say it.

“Can’t know?” He brought his head up. “Can’t know that I’m good to you?” His hands grabbed at your waist, smoothing down your sides to firmly grasp your ass. “Can’t know that I’m giving you a good birthday?” He leaned his head in until his lips were around your ear, nibbling the tiniest bit. “Can’t know… that I’m fucking crazy about you,” he breathed out deeply as he said this, automatically letting his tongue run down along the outside of your ear. “Why can’t they know?” he whispered.

Fuck, he was making this hard. If your mind wasn’t so clouded over, maybe you could have come up with a better response. “Just… not yet.” That would have to suffice.

“Not yet…” he kissed your ear lovingly. “But one day,” he said as he smiled into you, using his hands to scoop up under your ass and lift you so that you were thrown over his shoulder.

“Christopherrrr,” you giggled, getting the wind knocked out of you in the process. “Put me downnnn,” you wiggled your legs, making it harder for him as he began to walk.

“I will, I will!” he laughed as he gripped onto you more securely, making sure you wouldn’t fall. “Just gotta make sure you get to the couch safe.”

“I know how to walk!” you tried to protest, but sounded too cute to be taken seriously.

“Barely… Here,” he said, letting you down slowly and placing you so that you were sitting on the couch. “Is that better?” he asked, half-laughing.

“Much,” you smiled, pulling on his hand to bring him in closer.

“Now, you’re gonna have to trust me and let me take care of you for your birthday, yeah?” he looked at you, face stern and serious.

You nodded as you let your tongue run along your teeth, ending in an anticipating smile.

Not being able to stand the sight of you being too far from him, he quickly fell to his knees in front of you, letting one hand relax on your thigh while the other gripped the side of your jaw. He leaned in to begin kissing you all over again, just as much force as he’d thrown into you mere minutes ago.

Slowly, you felt his hand run along your thigh, massaging gently before running over to pay attention to the opposite side. Before you knew it, he was rubbing up and down the entirety of your leg, pulling your shoes off of you forcefully.

It was crazy how Chan could be saying something so sweet, but then behaving so aggressively back to back.

You felt his breathing quicken into your mouth as he threw his tongue further into you, letting his hand drag the bottom of your dress upward until it was above your hips.

Only then did he disconnect his lips from yours, pulling his head back to look at your body underneath. Your pretty underwear that he convinced himself that you’d worn just for him. His jaw dropped the tiniest bit, seeing how pretty you looked for him.

His mouth found its way back to your neck, more gently this time. His hand ran slowly between your legs, teasing a big before using his entire forearm to separate your legs apart. You felt his lips curl into a smile as you let out a tiny moan.

Taking his time, he walked his hand until it lingered just above your underwear, continuing to gently tug them down until they were completely off, leaving you fully exposed to him. Normally, you may have gotten a bit nervous at this point, but with Chan, you couldn’t process any emotions but pure lust.

Chan’s hands found their way to your core, running gently a few times along the outside before letting a finger wander inside of you, dipping into your entrance, which was absolutely soaked at this point.

“Damn, baby,” Chris giggled, loving how worked up you were for him.

Moving a couple of fingers against your wetness, he gently worked his way up until he hit a spot that made you wince and had your breath hitch in your throat.

“Is that it princess? Is that where it feels good?” he smiled, pulling himself from your neck so that he could watch your face.

You nodded, throwing your head back and taking deep breaths to try and keep yourself from slipping away.

“Do you like it like this?” he asked, running his fingers up and down precisely across your clit. “Or like this?” he added, moving his fingers now into a circling motion. The movement sent a quick chill down your spine.

“Like that, like that,” you huffed, reaching down to stabilize his wrist where it was. Your hips reflexively bucked up into him, only adding to the pleasure you felt.

Chan smiled, loving what he knew he was doing to you. The way your body arched for him as he went the tiniest bit faster.

“Hands off, princess. It’s just me taking care of you tonight,” he teased, moving your hand away while still rubbing you in just the right way.

Suddenly, you heard the door burst open, hearing footsteps until a disheveled-looking Felix appeared.

“What the fuck, bro?” Chan yelled, jerking your dress down a bit so that it was covering you but leaving his fingers in place all the same. “What are you doing here?!”

“You told me I could come over,” Felix whined, obviously still drunk off his ass. He took a couple more steps forward until he realized. “Wha- what are you doing?!” he asked, as if he’d just walked onto the scene of a crime.

“What does it look like we’re doing?” Chan yelled, obviously annoyed now. “Go to my room and play a game or something, or just leave and come back later.” With his last sentence, Chan became a bit more comfortable, secretly moving his fingers again as he spoke. The mixture of his voice, his touch, and the scene around you, it was all too good. You bit down on your lip to stifle the moans that were begging to be let out. You couldn’t stop yourself from grinding down a bit on Chan, forcing his eyes to dart back down to you instead of Felix.

“Channie-hyung, you knew I liked her first!” Felix complained, throwing his hands out, obviously still talking out of his ass. “It’s not fucking fair.”

“Fair?!” Chan yelled, getting even more heated. His hand still didn’t let up on your clit, instead working faster now. He was quickly gonna bring you to the edge, and you knew it. “She CHOSE me. Now get out of here and stop ruining her fucking birthday!”

“Y/n, tell him! Tell him you want me to stay. You want me too, I know you do!” Felix begged, walking closer to the scene. From here, he could tell that Chan still had you going. Your face was contorted in all kinds of shapes and slow, steady breaths were all that were keeping you sane. He was sure it was the hottest thing he’d ever seen.

“Holy shit,” Felix breathed out, savoring the sight of you. “Fuck,” he tipped his head back, not being able to stand it anymore, his senses coming to him.

“Lix can get in,” you tried to get out to Chan, though it sounded more like a whisper.

Chan’s eyes looked at you daringly, picking up the pace on your clit as if he was waiting for you to change your mind. Challenging you.

“Fuck Channie,” you moaned, arching your back and reaching for his wrist yet again. Another second of this and you were going to explode.

You yanked on his wrist, moving his hand back for a second to allow yourself to get a few breaths in. You waited until your heart began to slow before proceeding as Felix brought his eyes back down to you.

“Christopher,” you said softly, leaning up towards him to reach his lips. You planted a small kiss onto the side of his mouth as you took your hands to cup his face, holding it there for you. “Please baby,” you kissed him again. “Let Lixie in this time. For my birthday.”

You looked into his eyes deeply, slowly nodding so that hopefully he would join you and give in.

He granted your wish, nodding back and taking your hand in his to plant a kiss to it.

“Fine...” Chan said, turning his head around to find Felix. “But you’re not allowed to fuck her. That’s all me.”

Felix smiled, not needing to hear another word.

Chan rose to his feet with his hand still holding yours. “Stand up, princess,” he instructed, helping you get to your feet.

As soon as you stabilized, he hiked your dress back up, helping move you back onto the couch, now on your knees with your back arched ever so slightly.

You heard his belt unzip behind you as he shimmied his pants down and released his cock, which was already bulging and hard.

Spitting into his hand, he stroked himself a few times before lining up behind you and letting himself rub around your slit and across your clit a few times.

Felix, starting to catch on, walked himself around to the other end of the couch. As Chan got ready behind you, Felix slipped himself down so that he was lying flat on his back, inching his body up until his face rested right underneath your core.

You almost jumped at the feeling of Chan entering you slowly, feeling how big he was- much bigger than you could have imagined. He filled you up until you were completely full, not understanding until that moment how much you’d needed this. You let out a deep sigh as he bottomed out, hearing his moan from behind at how tight you were around him.

Slowly he inched out and back in until he felt comfortable enough to go harder, gripping tightly around your waist so he didn’t knock you away.

“Fuckkk,” you let out, reveling in how good he felt inside of you. Each new thrust sent a new wave of pleasure upwards. You didn’t know how any of this could get better.

Felix, too turned on by the noises overhead, brought his mouth to your pussy, just to where he was watching Chan now pound into you. He licked a few long stripes around your entrance, letting his tongue hit you, but also accidentally running slightly along Chan’s shaft as he railed into you. Felix rested his tongue here for a moment, letting it hit back and forth between you and Chan. The moans escaping your mouth were unreal. You just couldn’t help yourself. Felix’s hot breath on you only made it that much better.

“Ahh fuck,” you heard Chan curse under his breath, feeling the new stimulation from Felix’s mouth as he began alternating between licking and sucking at the area. Chan would never have admitted it, but fuck did it feel better than anything he’d ever experienced.

In unison, the three of you became a wild, moaning mess, each of you going harder and harder. Chan pounded into you as quickly as he could, beginning to hit the most perfect spot as you threw your hips back into him. He was so deep- so fucking deep that you almost couldn’t stand it. You could feel it hitting something inside you, radiating back with the most delicious feeling you’d ever experienced.

Felix’s mouth did wonders around you, having you wetter than you’d even thought possible. As his tongue moved to your throbbing clit, you audibly screamed. Your head began to spin as he swirled around you, giving you just the right pace and the right pressure.

“Oh Lixie,” you breathed out, almost in tears of how good he was doing for you.

“Mmm,” he moaned with a tiny smile, using his mouth to suck on you now, just as sweetly as before, making sure the flat of his tongue was winding you up to where you needed to be.

That’s when you felt it. The warmth growing in your stomach was starting to burn. Fast and hard. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you said, arching your body backward. “I’m gonna cum,” you repeated, closing your eyes tight as your mouth dropped open, feeling everything pent up ready to release.

Chan quickly brought his hand to your neck to hold you upright, fucking into you just right. His hips snapped up as you felt the heat of his mouth move up next to your ear.

“You’re gonna cum with me right now, pretty girl. Gonna cum together. I’m gonna fill you up right now...” His voice sped up, yelling urgently. “Cum with me right fucking now. Right fucking now,” he growled, groaning out as he fucked into you with a few final strokes.

Felix continued lapping at your clit until you couldn’t stand it. Suddenly, you snapped. Your thighs shut together around Felix’s face as you began convulsing nonstop around them both. You screamed, your arms reaching up to claw at Chan who was still fucking into you with everything he had.

Felix wouldn’t let up either, causing you to go intot he biggest overstimmulated panic you’d ever have.

You continued to thrash and to yell and to scream until tears were streaming down, unable to move or do anything anymore. You were completely spent. Completely used. And fuck did it feel amazing.

Satisfied and exhausted, Chan finally pulled out of you, cum following the direction. A bit of the cum landed right on Felix’s face, forcing him to let off of you and pull back.

“Damn,” you said, body still shaking as you took deep breaths, trying to process what had just happened.

You quickly rolled yourself back until you were able to stand again, pulling your dress down to cover you.

You brought your hands up to cover your face before laughing a bit, wondering how in the fuck this was real life and not just your imagination.

Felix dabbed at his face as he hoisten himself up back to sitting and Chan pulled his pants on. You all stood for a few moments, unable to say a single word.

“Well,” Chan finally got out, cocking a brow and trying to put everything together. He shook his head in disbelief as he fiddled with his fingers. “This was fun… but Felix…” he looked in his direction. “Never again,” he laughed, pitching his voice up at the end.

Felix nodded, holding in a laugh himself. “Yupppp,” he said awkwardly.

“And y/n,” Chan continued, looking over at you, “never again… with Felix.” He cleared his throat before going on to clarify. “With me, yes. With Felix, no.”

Felix flew his hands up, finally letting out a laugh. “Alright fine, I’m just going home,” he put on a fake pity voice before standing and walking to the front door.

You giggled in response, rolling your eyes. As you heard the door close behind Felix, you continued on.

“Ya know,” you said, looking into Chan’s eyes with a teasing smile, “you don’t get to tell the ‘birthday princess’ what to do?” you mocked his little nickname for you.

He moved in closer, placing his hands on your waist as he pulled you directly in front of him. “Technicallyyyy, you’re not the birthday princess anymore,” he smirked, nodding his head in the direction of the overhead clock hanging from the wall. “But, you can still be my princess. And my queen. And my everything else too. If you want,” he smiled.

[thetriangletattoo]

.

[selene-tempest]

It’s my birthday and apparently the hubby isn’t going to let me ignore it...

((Author lady is putting this up now to celebrate, but it won’t be uploaded to Ao3 yet because it doesn’t fit the timeline at the moment, so you’ll have to wait.))

“What do you mean she’s not coming home?” Scott asked.

“She’s not coming home,” John replied with a shrug. What else was there to say? How else could he make that simple sentence any clearer?

"Like never again?" Alan whimpered. 

John didn't dignify that with an answer. 

“But why?” Gordon asked.

“Because she doesn’t want to.”

“Did you try to talk her round?” Scott asked.

“Of course I did, but she’s being stubborn, and you know what she's like when she sets her mind to something.”

“Why? Did we do something wrong? Does she not love us any more?” Alan asked, looking like he was about to cry.

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course she still loves you. Do you honestly think that after four years in this family and all the things we’ve been through, this would be the time she decided she wanted out?” John couldn’t believe how dramatic they were all being about it.

“But it’s her birthday, she should be here with us,” Scott said firmly, like that was all there was to it. 

“Yes, her birthday, and she does have a choice in the matter,” John reminded him.

“No, she doesn’t.”

“You can tell her then,” John said. “Because I’m certainly not going to get involved with that.”

“Did she at least say why?” Virgil asked, ever the sane one.

“Yes, she said that she isn’t having a birthday this year, she’s ignoring it because someone,” John paused to glare meaningfully at Scott, “keeps teasing her about getting old because she’s hitting the big Three-O.”

Scott sniggered quietly to himself.

“I wouldn’t be so proud of it if I were you,” John warned him,

“I didn’t even say anything that bad to her,” Scott protested weakly.

“No, but you asked me what it was like being married to a cougar that only wanted me for my youthful body.”

Scott sniggered again, turning it into a cough when John’s glare rached up a notch.

“And yesterday you got up off the couch and asked her if she wanted to sit down,” Virgil added.

“I was being considerate!”

“If that was the case you shouldn’t have said that you were doing it because it’s only polite to give your seat up for the elderly,” Gordon laughed.

“Oh for the…” John dropped his head into his hands in utter despair. Scott was just lucky that he was only there in hologram form or he’d have punched him. 

Scott just shrugged. “She needs to come home, it’s her birthday.”

“Well she’s not going to,” John told him, wondering if he should whip out the hand puppets to get him to understand the simple answer of no.

“Go and get her, she’ll do it if you tell her to,” Alan tried.

“Let me think about it...no.”

“Aw, come on, John, please?” Alan was going to pout, John just knew it.

“I’ll try,” John sighed, knowing he was beaten.

-x-

“Come on, love, get out of bed.”

“No,” Selene said, her voice muffled since her head was currently stuffed under a pillow.

“Everyone wants to see you,” John wheedled.

“I don’t care, I’m not moving.”

“You have to celebrate your birthday.”

“Lies! I say the same thing to you every year and every year you tell me you don’t want a fuss. No party, no going anywhere, no nothing. Why can’t I do the same?”

“Because I’m me and you’re you. You’re the sociable part of our couple, you’re the one that forces me to go places I don’t want to by insisting that I'll have a good time when I get there.”

“And you still argue, complain and refuse to go. Maybe I’ve finally started to listen to you and realised you were right all along, birthdays are bad, social is bad, celebrating anything is bad. I get it, you were right.”

“Don’t even try that,” John warned her.

“Try what?” she mumbled innocently.

“Telling me that I’m right so I’ll be so shocked I won’t argue with you any more.”

“It was worth a shot,” she grumbled to herself.

“Enough of this,” John declared, grabbing the edge of the duvet and yanking it off the bed, revealing his darling wife lying flat out on her belly like a dead starfish. “Come on, get up.”

“No! I’m not getting up. If you really loved me and wanted me to celebrate you’d go and get a Chinese and eat it in bed with me.”

John paused for a second, because honestly that did sound very tempting… no, he had a duty as a husband, a duty to give his wife a birthday she wouldn’t forget for such a milestone. 

“No, we’re doing something for your birthday and that’s final. You asked me to trust you for my birthday last year-”

“And you didn’t! You bitched and tried to seduce me into staying on Five and ignoring the trouble I and everyone else had gone to.”

“Never happened,” he lied smoothly. “You have two choices, get up and come with me or I’ll call your mother and let her drag you out of this pit.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she hissed. 

“Oh, wouldn’t I?”

“No, because then you’d have to talk to her and you know how that would go,” Selene left the threat hanging in the air.

John paused, his brain frantically scurrying to come up with something like a hamster spinning on its wheel. What could he do that would be special for her birthday? He’d used up his one good idea planning a night away for the four year anniversary of the night they met… huh..maybe he could… 

He pulled his phone out and sent a quick message to EOS asking her to get to work rearranging the surprise. Selene's birthday was close enough to their anniversary, shifting the two bookings he had made shouldn't be too much trouble.

“Fine, then you have two more choices, get up and pack yourself an overnight bag and be waiting patiently for me to get back so we can go, or I’ll pack for you and throw you over my shoulder and drag you out. Choose wisely.”

“I choose door number three.”

“Stop being dramatic, plus you know that’s not an option. You can see your family tomorrow, for today you’re mine. I would strongly advise you pick the first option as you know my idea of suitable clothes to pack differs wildly from yours, you know I can’t be trusted…”

“Not convinced.”

Huffing he grabbed hold of her legs and yanked her backwards down the bed. She shrieked like a fire alarm. He ignored it. Flipping her over he tugged on her arms, pulling her into a sitting position.

“There’s my beautiful wife,” he lied, taking in the messy hair, mascara smudged around her eyes and the fact she was wearing the hideous nightshirt that he loathed with the fire of a thousand suns. 

She snorted, clearly not falling for his line.

He knelt down beside the bed, taking her hands in his.

“Do you trust me?”

“Most of the time.”

“Then trust me now, do as you’re told and stop being obstinate for the sake of it. Think about it, you and me, a whole night away…”

“And no mention of my birthday?” she clarified.

“Not if you don’t want it,” he promised. “I had something arranged for our anniversary but I think you need it a little earlier.”

She still looked suspicious but she reluctantly nodded her agreement. “Alright, I’ll trust you.”

“Good. I’m going to head back to the island to pick up Dad’s plane-”

“Plane? Just where are we going, exactly?”

“That’s on a need to know basis and right now you don’t need to know,” he told her. “Just concentrate on getting yourself ready, have a shower if you want to, dress in something you feel amazing in and be ready in two hours.”

“You’re really not going to tell me anything?”

“Nope, now move your backside,” he ordered, giving her butt a little swipe.

-x-

John had walked straight out of their flat after giving her her orders, leaving her to it. She procrastinated for half an hour, feeling that he would have totally won and she would have lost if she got up and did as she was told straight away. She needed to keep some form of dignity and control over her own dramatic leanings. 

She then slowly packed a few essentials, throwing in a nice maxi skirt, some leggings she could wear under it if they were going anywhere cold, a peasants blouse along with underbust corset she could add to jazz it up in case they went anywhere fancy, a thick shawl for chilly weather, a T-shirt to wear in bed, fresh underwear, makeup bag, toiletries and she was done.

She did take a shower, not because he suggested it but because she felt a bit grotty and knew it would make her feel better. She resisted the urge to stare at herself in the mirror and scrutinise her naked body until she wanted nothing more than to hide back in bed again, and got on with the laborious task of hair washing, leg shaving and getting dressed.

She was just about ready in jeans, T-shirt and a hoodie she’d stolen from Alan, comfy travelling clothes, when he texted to demand her presence downstairs. 

He had an automated taxi waiting that took them straight out of town to the nearby private airfield that Scott used whenever he was taking a break and leaving One at the island in case of emergencies, although this wasn’t a surprise since he had said he was going to get Jeff’s jet. 

The flight time had been relatively short in relation to standard commercial flights, only an hour and a half, but when you were used to being in a family that could zip across the globe in half an hour it was quite long. This comparison did absolutely nothing to tell her where they were at any given moment or where they were going to end up, so she stuck with sitting quietly, letting him get on with the whole flying thing.

“Are you still grumpy at me for making you leave the house?” John asked after half an hour of mostly silence from Selene.

“No,” she sighed, “I just really didn’t feel like doing anything, I’m not sure I’m going to be the best company at the moment.”

“Did I ask for you to be good company? It’s not like I’m a shining example of how to be the life and soul of a party.”

“I know, sorry, I just kinda wanted to forget about it. Everyone wants to make a big deal about my birthday and I don’t. Mum wanted to drag me around to visit people, to which I firmly said no, so she’s not really talking to me at the moment. She did that a lot when I was a kid, kept having parties and events that were loosely based on one of our birthdays, but she’d invite a lot of her friends and family members we didn’t really like. She’d have a great time but we didn’t because it just wasn’t what we wanted to do."

“I can understand that, Grandma was much the same.”

“Plus it’s the first big thing, apart from our wedding, without Dad and I’m just not really in the mood to celebrate, I’d rather just have a quiet night in and get a pizza or something.”

So that was what was really bothering her. Not so much the fact that she was getting older, though he was sure that wasn’t helping, but the fact that her Dad wasn’t going to be there. He could understand her point. Scott had turned thirty while their father had still been missing, presumed dead and it hadn’t been the celebration it should have been. Birthdays without their Mom had been much the same, celebrating milestones without important people was always hard. Maybe they were a little guilty of forgetting what that felt like, since their Father had been recovered after so many years. They were used to him being there again and didn’t let themselves dwell on the past if they could help it. 

“I promise you that we don’t even have to think about your birthday,” John assured her. “This is just us, having a night away from the madness that is our lives and tomorrow I’ll send Virgil to pick up Celia and Adam, she loves him so she'll behave, to bring them back to the Island for the night so we can have a quiet family dinner. Will that work for you?”

She thought about it for a moment or two, but could see no other way of getting around it.

“Yep, that’ll do.” 

"Good," he smiled, turning away tk check on the course settings. 

Watching him fly the plane, knowing he had put in a lot of effort already made her feel  like a complete bitch.

“I’m sorry, it’s not that I don’t appreciate you going to all this effort to arrange something, I didn’t mean to be a grumpy cow.”

“I’ll let you off this once, because it’s your birthday,” he teased, earning himself a half hearted glare that turned into a giggle as she finally let go of the tension she had been holding onto.

“I’m gonna smack you, you know that, right?” she warned him.

“Not while I’m flying, and maybe wait until after dinner, I’ll be slower then and easier for you to catch.”

“Noted,” she nodded, reaching over to drop her hand on his knee.

“I hope you’re not planning on distracting me,” he said mildly, acting as if nothing was happening, his eyes on the sky. 

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not, or is that another thing best left until after dinner when you’re too full to run away?”

“I could handle a little distraction now, but if you want me to be able to reciprocate with a little distraction technique of my own, you’re going to have to wait.”

“I’ll wait,” she decided, but that didn’t stop her leaning closer to smack a kiss to his neck. “Have I told you today that I love you, husband?”

“No, you were too busy ignoring me, wife. My heart is shattered by the way.”

“Oh, yes, you seem so very heart broken.”

“I’m hiding it well.”

“Sure you are,” she drawled, trying very hard not to laugh. “I do love you though.”

“As you should.”

His tone was so serious that she lost the battle to hold herself together and started to laugh. John smiled to himself, relieved to see that she had perked up. Hopefully she would have loosened up enough to enjoy the activities he’d planned for them both that evening as they were certainly more her thing than his.

John landed the JT1 on what appeared to be a small runway with a barn, in a field, in the middle of nowhere. He had refused to let her see where they were travelling to, insisting she pull down the window blind next to her as they got closer and close her eyes for the last three minutes of their descent and landing.

A local woman was there to meet them, her accent saying she was american, southern by the sound of it, although Selene wasn’t too good at identifying accents. After the woman had opened the barn doors and John had taxied the small jet into it, she introduced herself as Cherise. Hands were shaken and pleasantries exchanged before she led them to the small truck that she had parked nearby. A five minute drive and…

“Is that a river boat?” Selene asked, unable to figure out just what the heck was going on.

“Yep, now get on,” John instructed, guiding her onto the walkway with one hand while grabbing their bags with the other. They waved a goodbye to Cherise who assured John she’d be ready and waiting the next day and to just text when she was needed, and went in search of seats.

The boat was more of a ferry, containing around 150 seats, only half of which were filled.

"Now will you tell me where we're going?" 

"No, I don't think I will."

"You would if you loved me."

"Its because I love you that I'm not telling you," he replied cryptically, getting up from his seat and moving to the front where an attendant sat. 

“What river is this?” Selene sneakily asked a nearby passenger as John paid their fare, a measly sum of five dollars each.

“Please don’t answer her,” John called over, obviously overhearing.

The man chuckled, having been shamelessly listening in and finding the situation most amusing. “Are you being kidnapped?” 

“I don’t know, you'd better ask my husband,” she pouted. 

“It’s her birthday and it’s a surprise,” John explained as he returned to his seat next to her. “She’s being impatient and sneaky.”

“You’ll only have to wait five minutes,” the man told her, patting her shoulder. “Surely that’s not too bad?”

“You’d think so,” Selene huffed, crossing her arms as the boat slid out of the dock and out into the open water.

Just as their fellow passenger had promised, just a shade under five minutes later the boat cruised into another dock and they were ushered off.

“Now will you tell me where we are?”

“Nope, not quite yet,” John grinned, enjoying this game immensely. Tucking her hand into his they followed the stream of passengers out of the dockyard and onto the streets beyond.

It wasn’t until she saw the streetcar waiting for the offloading passengers that she figured it out. 

“Oh my gods, you didn’t?” she gasped, the pieces of the jigsaw finally sliding into place. The river, which surely had to be the Mississippi, the streetcars and the friendliness of the locals, there was only one place they could be. The city of New Orleans was famous for being one of the only places in the world to still have a working historical streetcar line, something she had heard all about from her friends who had been lucky enough to visit. It was one of the places on her bucket list, her spiritual home for her laidback, chilled out self.

“I did,” he smirked, feeling incredibly pleased with himself at that moment, knowing that his hunch had been correct.

"You are amazing!" she screamed, throwing her arms around his neck. 

“Finally you realise it,” he teased, wrapping his arms around her waist for stability as she bounced enthusiastically on the spot, almost knocking him over. “Shall I assume you approve?”

“Hell yes I approve!” she squealed, smacking a kiss to his lips.

“Good, because we’ve got a full evening booked up.”

“And time factored in for a wander?”

“Translation, time to look at some shops?”

“Obviously.”

“Maybe we can find a little time tomorrow morning,” he allowed. She smiled happily, knowing that was a yes. 

She squeezed up as close to the window as possible on the streetcar, wanting to see everything, squeaking and pointing like an excited child whenever she saw something she recognised.

When he had been thinking of somewhere to take her for an overnight stay he'd happened to overhear a phone conversation between Selene and another friend. They had been discussing a mutual friend and their shop in New Orleans and had spent ten minutes talking about the area with Selene saying how much she wanted to go, how it was on her list of places to visit before she died. The answer, it seemed, had quite conveniently fallen into his lap. 

It had been simple enough to organise, just a hotel booking, pick up from the landing area in St Bernard Parish and tickets for the tour he’d found. He’d planned on surprising her for their anniversary, knowing that it would never be something she would think to plan herself. She knew their busy lives, knew that time off was a rarity that could never be counted on, plans often had to be ditched at the last minute and so she never made them, not wanting him to feel bad if her efforts went to waste because IR were called out and he had to return to Five. 

He had thought she would want to do something with family and friends for her birthday so had booked for the week after, but once again she had surprised him with her insistence that she wasn’t going to celebrate. So he’d had to make some quick decisions, adapt, improvise, overcome.

He kept his eye on his phone, watching the little dot moving on the screen that was them and their streetcar, waiting for the right stop to disembark. Seeing the stop for Toulouse Station coming up he grabbed their bags and waited for her to notice. When she didn't, so engrossed was she in the streets going past, he had to catch her hand and tug her out of her seat. 

“Come on, we’re walking from here,” he instructed, pushing the bell to indicate to the driver, nothing was automated in New Orleans if they could help it, that they wanted to get off.

The stop wasn’t terribly close to the hotel he’d booked, but he’d thought it would be nice to walk, allowing her to see the sights a little and familiarise themselves with the layout of the area.

They walked hand in hand through Jackson Square and out onto St Ann street. St Ann’s was a pleasant walk past a number of shops, bars and restaurants, the end of which intersected onto Bourbon Street. Selene insisted on dipping into a gift shop and grabbing a few items for the family, just in case they didn’t get a chance to later. It took all his skills in sneaky manipulation, and promises of later distractions, to get her moving again, following the street until they reached their hotel. The whole walk took them less than half an hour but they were already feeling a little damp and sweaty.

The Lafitte Guest House was on the quieter end of Bourbon, something he knew both of them would appreciate. Selene liked her sleep and hated being woken suddenly and, although she suffered it well on the island, he knew for a fact that she would not appreciate it while they were away. He’d debated the wisdom of knowingly booking into a haunted hotel but experience had told him that his wife would find a spirit no matter where they were and at least this way they would be forewarned.

“This place is so nice,” she had cooed, running a hand along the ornate wooden handrail on the staircase. 

“It’s a little smaller than some of the fancier hotels, but I thought you’d prefer the atmosphere here.”

“I do, it’s the perfect choice,” Selene agreed as they were shown to their room. And it was, a three storey building that fitted in perfectly with its surroundings, the classic New Orleans French inspired architecture.

“This building was constructed in 1849,” their concierge told them, “by the same man who designed our opera house, Robert Seaton."

He turned down a hallway, beckoning them to follow along. 

"I’m afraid, although your original booking was for our most haunted room, room 21, it is already occupied, I do hope that won’t be a problem?”

“Not at all,” John assured him. “Any room you have will be fine, we’re just thankful you could accommodate us at such short notice.”

“No problem at all,” the man said, leading them up a flight of stairs and along a corridor. He opened the room with a flourish, stepping aside to allow them to enter.

The room itself, much like the rest of the hotel, was like stepping back in time, containing period furniture, a lovely large four poster bed and large french door windows that opened out onto a small wrought iron balcony overlooking Bourbon street. 

“It’s gorgeous,” Selene sighed, flopping backwards onto the bed with a woop of delight.

“Happy wife, happy life,” John quoted, much to the man’s amusement. 

“Will you be requiring anything else, sir?”

“No, thank you, we’re just going to freshen up and then head out to dinner," he said, dropping Selene's bag in a nearby chair." Actually, is there anywhere you can recommend?”

“Many places, but I’d say the best idea is to follow your nose and your stomach, although I would encourage you to try something authentic, the gumbo at SoBou is my favourite.”

“Then we’ll be sure to try there,” John promised. “Sel, are you done messing up the bed?”

“Nope,” she answered, continuing to roll around like a happy puppy, burying her face in the pillow.

“I’ll leave you in peace,” the man laughed, backing out of the room after John shook his hand, discreetly pressing a twenty into the man’s palm.

“I’m going to freshen up with a shower,” John told her. “Try not to fall asleep.”

“I could come with you,” she offered, perking up at the idea, sitting up on the bed expectantly.

“No, I’m far too hungry for that, besides which we have somewhere to be tonight, so your continued attempts to distract me will have to wait,” he told her, grabbing his bag and firmly shutting the bathroom door behind him.

“Unfair,” she pouted, flopping back down again. “It is my birthday you know!”

-x-

“I literally can’t eat another bite,” Selene complained, pushing her bowl aside with half the, admittedly delicious, Jambalaya still in it.

“That’s because you ate four bits of bread before they brought the food out,” John told her, finishing the last bite of his gumbo and wiping his mouth with a napkin.

“I regret nothing,” she insisted, reaching over to swipe the crust of a piece of bread off his side plate, wiping it through the sauce left in his bowl.

“I thought you were too full to eat another bite?” he asked as she popped it in her mouth, chewing hard before swallowing to answer him.

“Of my own food, obviously, yours is fair game,” she sipped her coke and smiled sweetly.

“Of course, how stupid of me not to realise that.”

“It really was,” she agreed, holding in a giggle at the martyred look on his face.

“Dessert?” he eventually asked once she stopped sniggering like an idiot. 

“Obviously, do you want to share one?” 

“Sure,” John shrugged, at ease with pretty much anything at that moment. He had worried that he might find the whole area overwhelming as it had a reputation as a nonstop party town. He’d been dreading crowds of people getting too close for comfort, being too loud, too boisterous and invasive. But he’d found that, while it was loud it wasn’t unbearable, seeming to consist of a lot of music, laughter and the occasional shout. 

Although it was crowded, they weren’t shoving and barging, they were respectful of personal space and friendly enough without being over friendly.  It was a pleasant surprise, one that was reflecting in his current mood. Selene, for her part, was so chilled out she was practically horizontal, four witch types had already waved hello and greeted her like a long lost friend even though she didn’t know them at all and she seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the experience, her grumpy mood of earlier completely forgotten. 

“What do you fancy?” Selene asked, currently studying the dessert menu on the board.

“Besides my gorgeous wife?”

“Yeah, besides her, wives are not for eating,” Selene snorted.

“I beg to differ.”

Selene tore her eyes away from the menu to look at him. He lifted his bottle of beer and took an innocent sip, his eyes projecting trustworthiness. She wasn't fooled. 

“Something chocolatey?” she offered, trying to distract herself away from the thought of his mouth on something other than the neck of the bottle.

He thought about it for a second or two then shook his head. “Maybe something with fruit?”

“ Or possibly Ice Cream?”

“Maybe,” he studied the menu himself. “Bananas Foster?”

“Perfect,” she nodded.

They finished up the last of their meal at a leisurely pace, chatting in between sharing bites of the delicious dessert. Bananas Foster was a favourite of Gordon’s and she snapped a picture to send to him later, wanting to make him jealous.

John paid the bill, leaving a generous tip and reached for her hand, guiding her outside. He took out his phone, checking the time and location for their next activity. Keeping hold of her hand, using it to pull her in closer to his side, he led the way further down Bourbon and onto St Peter’s where the tour guide would hopefully be waiting.

"Hello!" one of their guides greeted them as they closed in on the group of maybe twenty people already waiting there. "Tracy, party of two?" 

"That's us," John confirmed and Selene nodded too. She had no reason to, she just wanted to look like she had some kind of clue as to why they were there and what was going on. 

"Good, then you're the last ones, let's get started. I'm Delphine, this is Remi, and we'll be your guides on this, the world famous New Orleans Ghost Tour." 

Selene squeezed his hand excitedly and he allowed himself to release the breath he had been holding. It was always a bit of a gamble with her when it came to planning anything like this. In most things she was incredibly laid back, but when it was anything that involved the potential for witchcraft, mediumship or ghosts then you were swimming in muddy water. It depended on how respectful the people involved were. He had done his research as best he could, seeing that the tour had been running for more than 80 years in some form or another and that they didn't employ the use of jump scares, people in costumes or sensationalise it in any way. He just hoped it was all it promised to be. 

"This is a two hour walking tour, ending with a visit to the beautiful and very haunted St Louis Cemetery No 1," Delphine informed them all. "But we're going to start right here in the heart of the French quarter where murder, mystery and voodoo magic helped shape our history."

The other attendees ooed and ahhed, already impressed by the mere thought of ghosts and ghoulies. 

Selene was busily looking around them curiously as they wandered slowly down the street, Delphine and Remi giving them a run down on the architecture, the history, the customs and the people that make up New Orleans. But he could feel that she was already on alert, the hand that held on tightly to his arm seeming to warm against his skin, letting him know that her gifts had already awoken, sitting up to take notice. 

As they walked they were told a little about the Le Petite Theatre and the young chorus girl who, falling out of favour with the producer, hung herself above the stage during the opening night's performance. Legend had it that every opening night her shadowy form could be seen hanging against the backdrop of the stage.

The first place they stopped at properly to take pictures and listen to the full history was the Andrew Jackson hotel, somewhere John had looked at as a possible place to stay but had decided against it when he had realised it was on the tour.

“The Andrew Jackson, once a boarding house for boys, fell victim to two major fires at the end of the 1700’s,” Delphine told them. Her voice was pleasant to listen to, loud enough that they didn’t have to strain their ears but soft and lilting in that southern way that put you at ease instantly. 

“One of those fires burnt the school to the ground, killing a number of young residents. The spirits of the boys are often seen and heard in the hotel, being described as mischievous spirits who like to play outside people’s rooms at night. One guest reported waking up in the middle of the night to see three small boys sitting on the end of her bed. Of course, she screamed, which the boys copied, screaming back at her in terror before vanishing.”

“Can you sense anything?” John whispered to Selene, making sure to keep his voice low, not wishing to interrupt Delphine or distract the other people listening. 

Selene waggled her hand back and forth in a ‘meh’ gesture, indicating it could be something or nothing. 

“I can feel energy from there, but nothing is coming forward to say hello,” she whispered back. “If we were inside I’m sure I’d get something more but out here, not being funny but the spirits are probably so used to tourists coming through that we’re boring to them now. That and, where I’m usually one of the only mediumistic people to come in to talk to spirits, there are tons here, you can trip over a witch by accident. So they are probably just keeping themselves to themselves.”

“Fair enough,” John chuckled, he always loved the way she explained things, a mixture of simplistic and colourful language with a hint of ‘I’m the expert’ that he so admired.

They continued walking, Remi pointing out interesting landmarks and telling the odd story of a murder or some other tragedy that had occured until they reached their next proper stop.

“Here we are at the historic, and very popular, Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop Bar, the oldest in the city. History is mixed on whether this building was owned by the famed Lafitte brothers, Jean, or John, and Pierre or just named after them. Some accounts say that they ran the blacksmith shop as a front, others say that they cannot find any actual evidence of their involvement. All we know for sure is that they were nasty pieces of work.” Remi swept a hand out, gesturing towards the bar that was already hopping even though it was still relatively early.

“Jean and Pierre, the Pirate Captains, were instrumental in helping to win the battle of New Orleans during the war of 1812 against the British,“ Delphine continued to explain, glancing at Selene and winking at the mention of the British. “Jean was given a pardon for all his misdeeds as reward for their help, but in exchange he was ordered to leave the state of Louisiana.”

“Bit mean,” Selene whispered to John, who nodded in agreement, imagining how it would feel to help save a city only to be thrown out of it. 

“It’s said that they left great treasures around the French Quarter and in the Mississippi itself which have never been found. The only other person that knew of their whereabouts was a fellow pirate that Jean made the mistake of trusting. Unfortunately, as is often the way with pirates, he was untrustworthy, returning again and again to the cache's to skim a little off the top, so to speak. When Jean found out he did a little skimming of his own, he killed the pirate and it’s said that his spirit is cursed to guard the treasure forever more.”

“That’s a bit of a rough deal,” Selene muttered. “All eternity guarding something he can’t have? That’s like Virgil dying and hovering over the coffee pot.”

John snorted out a laugh, picturing his brother in ghost form, wailing as Scott took the coffee pot, poured himself a cup and drank it in front of him. 

As they wandered on, John and Selene were asked for a few selfies by tourists not in their group and they had to hurry to catch up a few times, finding it impossible to be rude and refuse even though John would have much rather done so.

They were told of the Pharmacy Museum. The building had the dubious honour of being the first licensed pharmacy in the United States but the treatments offered often did more harm than good, verging on barbaric. From drilling holes in skulls to relieve the pressure as a cure for headaches, to chemical concoctions that would have you put in prison were you to use them today. 

The second doctor to practice there was known to kidnap pregnant women and perform horrific experiments on them and it was his grizzly spirit that was said to shunt the building still.

They stopped outside a large, three storey building, getting comfortable as their guide started her story.

“The Palace, the Sultan’s house and the murder house,” Remi called out over the increasing noise of the streets and the chatting of the tour attendees. “All names for this building. Originally the second home of a wealthy businessman, he was hardly ever in residence and often rented it out in exchange for some extra cash that he probably didn’t need. Legends differ, one saying that the mysterious young man, a tall, dark and handsome stranger, was the brother of a sultan, hence the name, while others talk of him being some kind of demon or devil.”

“Demon’s aren’t real are they?” John asked Selene in a side whisper. She didn’t answer but her scrunched up nose and avoidance of his eyes told him all he needed to know. 

“Do you know any?”

She nodded vaguely, clearly not comfortable talking about such things out in the open as they were so he took the hint and shut up, tuning back into the talk.

“The man was very exotic,” Delphine was saying. “He had an accent that no one could place, he arrived with a full entourage of young and beautiful people, both male and female. Again, here accounts differ, some say that the Sultan actually hired a number of assassins to murder his brother and his entourage but others are far more sensational.”

“How much more sensational could it get?” an older woman whispered to her partner. 

“I don’t know,” the other woman whispered back, “maybe an orgy?”

John dropped her chin to Selene’s shoulder, burying his face in her neck as he tried not to laugh. Selene was less composed, out right giggling as he pulled her closer, his arms around her waist so she could lean back against his chest.

“The man and his ‘family’, for that was how he referred to them on the rent agreement, moved in. They immediately closed all the window shutters, hung heavy drapes and weren’t really ever seen again, although the neighbors knew they were in there. They could smell food cooking, they heard music playing at night and the smell of incense often wafted out. But, more disturbingly, the sound of screams would be heard, although it was never known if they were of pain, or pleasure. After a while the house grew quiet, no signs of life were seen and with the silence came a sickening smell. When the police broke down the door they found a scene that they likened to a slaughter house. Dead bodies were everywhere, blood splattered the walls and in the garden they found a freshly dug grave that contained the body of a man, supposedly buried alive. “

“Damn,” the woman who had suggested the orgy, muttered to her partner. "That's definitely not as much fun."

“As I said, accounts vary, some say that it was the sultan’s brother’s harem that had been killed and the brother was the body found in the garden, others say that the family escaped and killed those that either attacked them or that they were demons feeding on the flesh and souls of their victims. We will never know for sure. But rumour has it that the ghost of the sultan’s brother haunts these halls, that passers by still smell the incense and that the echoing screams can still be heard coming from inside.”

“Anything there?” John murmured in her ear, nodding towards the big building.

“There’s definitely an energy of some kind in there,” she answered, keeping her voice low and quiet. “It feels more like residual energy though, not so much an active spirit, but I'd have to be inside to know for sure.”

As they walked Delphine told them of another house, 734 Royal Street where a young black woman had frozen to death on the roof, having been told to disrobe and wait up there by her lover as a joke. He never expected her to do it and was the unlucky person to find her the next morning, naked, frozen, dead on the rooftop. It was said he died soon after from a broken heart.

Some people report to have seen a woman standing on the roof, being concerned enough to call the police. But as soon as the police hear the address they are known to dismiss it as just Julie, still waiting.

Next on their stop was the LaLaurie Mansion. Delphine, their guide, told them the story of Delphine LaLaurie, the beautiful lady of the house who married a man named Louie LaLaurie, a doctor from Europe. They were what was considered an it couple of the time, the height of fashion and threw extravagant parties to show off their wealth and to network.  

The only thing of note that anyone found strange about them was the high number of slaves they seemed to own. Delphine LaLaurie would explain it away as nothing if you asked, brushing it off but if you continued to press the issue, or asked anyone else, you would find yourself ousted, shunned, never to be invited back again.

On the tenth of April 1834, whilst hosting another of their elaborate events a fire broke out in the house. The fire brigade were called and soon had the flames under control. Everything seemed fine, the damage seemed to be minimal but they checked the area thoroughly, just to be sure.

The fire looked to have originated in the kitchen and there they found an older enslaved woman, huddled close to an open window, coughing harshly, almost overcome by smoke. They wondered why she had not left through the window to save herself, but they soon found the answer. They discovered that she was chained to the stove by her ankle, unable to even leave the room, let alone the house itself.

They questioned her on the fire and she admitted that she was responsible, she had set the fire. When they asked why she pointed above her head and told them to look in there. In the room above the kitchen, the slaves quarters, they met with the most horrific sight.

The attic room was full of tortured, mutilated slaves. The doors had been locked but they had soon broken it down. As soon as the doors had opened the smell that hit them had made them heave, some of them needing to turn away to vomit. Papers from the time told of at least seven slaves, chained, beaten, tortured. Victims of pain experiments, their muscles and limbs stretched and broken.

Even though the people of time didn’t hold slaves in the same regard as others they were up in arms, calling for the LaLaurie’s blood. A mob gathered outside but they could not find them, the LaLaurie’s had made their escape in a carriage.

“People talk of a dark and depressive atmosphere in the house,” Remi continued, “and many have reported to have seen the ghost of LaLaurie. A young couple once lived here with their baby. One night the man awoke to see a woman standing over the crib. At first he thought it was his wife but she was right there in bed beside him and she didn’t have long, red hair. He yelled out loud and the woman turned to look at him before running away. He made to follow but something told him not to, instead he stopped to check the baby. The baby’s sock had been removed and had been stuffed deep down into the baby's mouth, partially down its throat, choking it.”

“I don’t like this one,” Selene whispered, her eyes fixed on the building in front of them. Even though it was a lovely warm night and she had her shawl around her shoulders, John could feel that she was shivering and wrapped his arms around her tighter.

“There’s a darkness in there, not like at the Sultan’s Palace, different. I feel that this building still has evil inside it. The energy is so...spikey,” she finished, not really knowing how to describe it. “Like it could prick you or hurt you just because you were there. I can’t say if there are any spirits in there, I’d have to go in for that, but the things that happened in there, it’s soaked into the walls, the floor, everything.” 

She shuddered again, taking an instinctive step backwards, forcing John to do the same or have her knock him over. He knew what she meant, the house felt strange even to him, like every instinct he possessed was screaming at him to turn around and leave. He was a Tracy, he didn’t back down from anything, even with the fine hairs at the back of his neck standing to attention, but he was more than happy to start walking as the tour moved on.

The last stop on their tour before they moved on to the cemetery was the famous house of Marie Laveau, the Voodoo Queen of New Orleans who, despite being dead for over 250 years, still seemed to hold some sway over the city, still having powers from beyond the grave.

“Born in 1801, to a wealthy white plantation owner and her black mother, Marie was said to be incredibly beautiful,” Delphine told them. “She married and went on to have two children before her husband mysteriously went missing. After this she called herself a widow, though some people believe that this was simply to save face and that he had actually abandoned her and their children.”

“Is this place any better?” John asked, his voice low in her ear, making her shiver for an entirely different reason.

“Much better,” she replied, keeping her voice quiet. “I can feel power here, but it’s neutral, nothing that I would call malevolent or nasty.”

“After her husband’s disappearance she was in need of money with which to take care of herself and her children. With precious little options, she began working in a hair salon, serving wealthy white and Creole women of New Orleans. Just like the salons of today they were a hotbed for gossip and secret spilling. She hoarded the information she was privy to, using to her advantage to rise up the ranks of society.”

“Honestly, I  can respect that woman,” Selene muttered. “I gather gossip and use it to my advantage too.”

“Sweetheart, you said that finding Grandma’s old photo album and stealing the picture of Dad’s emo phase was you doing the Gods work.”

“I stand by that,” she sniffed, ignoring the giggle from the young man standing behind them.

“Marie entered into another relationship with a wealthy and powerful man from a prestigious local family,” Remi continued. “And they had a total of fifteen children in quick succession.”

“Sod that!” Selene yelped, crossing her legs in the ultimate act of self defence. 

“And you said I have too many brothers,” John teased, hugging her tighter when she attempted to elbow him.

“Obviously, with so many children to look after she found that her time was limited,” Delphine said, ignoring Selene’s outburst. “She quit her job at the hair salon and devoted herself to raising her children. It’s believe that this was the time when she started to pay more attention to her mothers voodoo beliefs and practices.”

The story, which Delphine and Remi continued to tell them as they walked towards their last stop of the night, St Louis Cemetery number one, said that while she had a basic knowledge from her mother she learnt most of her craft from a voodoo doctor known only as Doctor John.

Selene turned her head back to look at John as she walked beside her. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a side hustle in Voodoo? You’ve been making me do all the magical heavy lifting for years.”

“Well, I had to leave you with something to do to make you feel useful,” he retorted, smacking a kiss on her lips when she squeaked a protest.

“Quite Christian based in the prayers used, voodoo combines the use of saints, incense and dance into its practice,” Remi continued as they walked. “She was known for her pet snake which she had named Zombie, and for providing Gri-Gri bags, spiritual readings, spells, fortune telling and mediumship for the wealthy of New Orleans upper class. She was said to have died with a smile on her face in 1881 and, when her death was reported in the newspapers they called her the kindest woman that had ever lived. She was said to have nursed the sick and helped out with all manner of problems that people might have, although many said it wasn’t so much because of her magical abilities that she was so powerful, but the secrets that she kept. Secrets that kept many politicians in her debt.”

They came to stop outside the crumbling white walls that surrounded the cemetery, glowing eerily in the rapidly darkening twilight between dusk and full night. The walls themselves were actually made up of wall tombs, a place for families who couldn’t afford a large above ground one.

“Marie Laveau was laid to rest right here in this very cemetery. It’s said that she still wields a remarkable amount of power even from beyond the grave, so much so that people often petition her spirit in the hopes that she will grant their wishes,” Delphine said as they entered. 

She and Remi led the way through a maze of tombs, some old and crumbling, others surrounded by iron railings that tilted at odd angles due to age and decay, some large, some small, some classical, some extravagant while others were just so outlandish that they looked completely out of place.

They stopped beside a rather plain white tomb, relatively small in comparison to some of the others they had already seen. Delphine reached out a hand to touch the side of the tomb, right beside a green X that had been scrawled on the paint.

“The practice has since been banned and is considered a criminal offence, but in the past people would mark her grave with an X, although as you can see some people ignore the law. The ritual stated that you should mark the grave with an X, turn around three times, knock on the tomb and then yell out your wish. If the wish came true you were supposed to return, draw a circle around your X and leave an offering to the lady.”

“I can think of a few wishes I’d like granted,” a lady in their group stated, making a fair few people laugh. “Not much, just a few million in the bank, a nice house and a good looking man on my arm.”

“Well, I can’t help with the millions,” her husband said, “but at least you have the good looking man.”

“Yeah, in my dreams,” she countered, although he didn’t seem too offended by it.

“Marie’s ghost has been spotted in many locations throughout the French quarter where she made her home," Remi told them. "She is most recognizable by the red and white turban tucked around her hair and the bright clothes she wears. People are still drawn to her and often follow her wanting to introduce themselves but she always vanishes, sometimes right in front of them, before they can do so.”

“She doesn’t sound scary,” a man said dismissively. 

“Oh, she’s seen as very friendly,” Delphine answered, “until you cross her. She’s been seen many times in this cemetery, walking between and sometimes through the tombs. Usually she leaves you be but, if you do anything that she deems disrespectful, such as disregarding or insulting her beliefs or religion she has been known to scratch, pinch and shove people to the ground. Voices have been heard coming from inside her tomb and some people that get too close have reported feeling sick.”

“She’s not too bad,” a voice beside Selene and John said in a conversational tone.

“Have you seen her?” Selene asked, keeping her voice low so as not to disturb Delphine and Remi as they told of the cities other famous inhabitants of the cemetery such as Bernard de Marigny and Barthelemy Lafon.

“Seen who?” John asked, dragging his attention away from the talk and back to her.

“Sorry, wasn’t talking to you,” she whispered.

“Do you happen to know where the Vignes tomb is?” the man asked, changing the subject from ghost talk to something more mundane. 

“No, sorry, we’re just on a tour here, we don’t know the area,” Selene admitted.

“Who were you talking to?”

“This guy,” she said, nodding towards the blond man who had begun to wander closer to the front of the tour group, obviously wanting to take advantage of listening to the information without having to pay for the privilege like the rest of them had.

“Who?”

“Him,” she replied, waving in his direction. "That new guy, he definitely wasn't with us at the start. He must have joined in along the way."

“There’s no one there, Sel,” John said quietly. She looked at him, studying his face to make sure he wasn't messing with her, but he seemed serious enough. She sighed, for someone so observant John certainly seemed to be missing the obvious. 

“Yes there is, he’s right there,”  she insisted. Praying for patience she grabbed his hand to drag him closer. “See? He's right there.”

“Yes,” John gulped, eyes widening, “I actually do see him.”

“Right, so he was saying that Marie Laveau isn’t as bad as everyone says she is, I assume he meant that her spirit isn’t that menacing, I was asking him if he’d seen her but then you interrupted and-”

“Sel,” John interrupted, his eyes locked on the man who was meandering back their way, “I don't think he joined the tour, he just walked straight through that tomb.” 

“Damn, then he’s got some serious energy in him,” she breathed, catching John’s meaning. “He must have if I didn’t sense it straight away.”

“Sorry, I had to listen to make sure they told my story right,” the ghost said, reaching her side. John’s eyes almost fell out of his head, confirming that he could now hear him as well as see him.

“Oh, are you a famous one?” Selene asked as the tour moved on, affording them a little more privacy to talk. 

“My name is  Henry,” he told them, dipping in a courtly little bow. “Oh, that's my cue, if you’ll excuse me…”

Henry vanished and reappeared nearer the front of the tour. Making a face of pure boredom he stepped into a gap between two tombs and moaned in a low, quiet voice. “I need to rest.”

Several people in the tour jumped and an older lady stumbled. John, actinb on instinct, reached out to steady her, letting go of Selene’s hand in the process.

“Where did he go?” John asked, returning to her side after assuring himself that the lady was unharmed. 

“No where, he’s still right there,” she answered, giving Henry a small wave.

“No, he’s not.”

“He is,” she insisted, “come on, we’ll go talk to him again.”

“As we were saying,” Remi could be heard above the mutterings of the other attendees. “The story of Henry Vignes is a sad one. A sailor who trusted the wrong person, Henry died having no place to be laid to rest, his tomb sold by the lady he had entrusted with his most important papers.”

Henry nodded sadly, leaning casually against the side of a tomb.

“He has been seen by many people, usually so clearly that they do not realise that he is even a ghost,” Delphine told them. Henry preened a little at that. 

“He often strolls right up to tourists and asks them where the Vignes tomb is located as he’s having trouble finding it himself. He’s even been known to appear at funerals and ask if there is any room left in there for him.”

Selene giggled, she couldn’t help it and Henry winked at her, tipping his hat before fading away.

“Are you sure he was still there?” John asked later that night as the tour returned to the french quarter meeting place. 

“Yes, I’m sure,” she sighed. “I don’t know what happened there, you seemed to see-”

“And hear,” John added.

“And hear him just fine. Then all of a sudden you couldn’t anymore.”

“I couldn’t at first either,” he reminded her, “I thought you were talking to yourself.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” she grumbled. “Sometimes I’m the only person that will listen to me.”

“Was there anything you did that might have allowed me to see him?” John asked, ignoring her insinuation that he never listened to her. He listened to her all the time, he was just selective with what he chose to reply to, knowing she needed very little encouragement with some of her more ridiculous ideas.

“No, I didn’t do anything at all,” she promised him. “All I did was move you closer so I could point him out.”

“You took hold of my hand,” he said, mentally rerunning the moment in his head. “And kept hold of it the whole time.”

“Not the whole time,” she reminded him. “When Henry did his haunting voice that lady stumbled and you caught her before she hit the deck.”

“And I didn’t hold your hand again until we were walking back,” he finished. 

“Nah, it can’t be that simple,” she scoffed. “I hold your hand all the time.”

“But have you ever done it while there was a spirit around?” he asked, guiding her around a group of drunken young ladies all carrying brightly coloured cocktails in yard long plastic containers with straws sticking out of them, most of which were being eagerly slurped from as they walked.

���I don’t know,” she admitted, thinking about it. “I don’t think so now that you mention it.”

“Do you think that could be another side effect of that little bonding mistake we made?”

“I guess anything is possible,” she mused. “Tanzi did say that we might keep noticing new things for a while after.”

“I guess there’s only one way to know for sure,” he shrugged, “you’ll just have to make sure you tell me next time you see one.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she promised him. He smiled at that, knowing how just a few years ago she would never have dared to even agree to try, let alone have any intention of doing so. Her ex, Nathaniel was responsible for messing up many things in her life, her confidence in herself and her abilities being one of them, but John was determined that, no matter how long it took, he was going to prove to her that she never needed to be wary again.

Bourbon street at night was like no place they had ever been before. They heard it before they even got close, the neon lights glowing from a distance. The lights reminded Selene of London but that was where the similarities ended. 

The entire street was a wall of noise, music of all kinds seeming to spill out of every single bar on the strip on either side. She felt John tense beside her, knowing that it wasn’t somewhere he would be at all comfortable.

“Do you want to try and avoid it?” she asked and he nodded gratefully. A quick word with Remi and they had secured directions and a suggestion to head down Dauphine St instead of continuing onto Bourbon. They could follow it until they reached St Phillip’s St which would lead them to the intersection where their hotel was located.

They thanked him and Delphine for a fun and informative tour and struck out on their own. Dauphine street was much quieter than Bourbon appeared to be, there were still small crowds milling around outside but not enough to send John into flight mode, so they took that as a win.

“Want to grab a drink?” John offered but Selene shook her head.

“No thanks, I’m not really feeling it today, maybe it’s the crowds or all the walking but I think I’d rather wait until we get closer to the hotel, that way we can find a quieter one to try before we head to bed.”

“Good plan,” he agreed, pulling her in closer. It was only eleven at night, relatively early for them, but they had had a long day and the thought of the comfy bed awaiting them was a very pleasant one.

They located the intersection where Dauphine met St Paul's and soon hit the tail end of Bourbon. From there the music was far more bearable, seeming to be a mixture of classic rock, Selene could hear Smoke on the Water playing from a bar, and some kind of Jazz.

With Virgil, Scott and Jeff being fans of old fashioned Jazz music they decided to move a little further in that direction, meaning to take a video or two to show the others when they got home. That was their first mistake.

“No, no way,” John protested as a woman separated herself from the crowd outside the bar where a band was playing and grabbed his hand.

“Come on, honey, you have to dance,” she insisted, swirling on the spot and dragging him with her.

“Help!” he yelped as his arm was pulled this way and that by the enthusiastic woman. 

“Little busy,” Selene laughed, having been swept up into the arms of a man who was trying to lead her in some kind of 1920’s era Jazz hop dance that involved a lot of quick footwork and much arm waving.

John managed to escape as the band paused before launching into their next number and stole Selene back. She took full advantage, holding on to his hand as the music began to play again. 

A couple near them started something that looked vaguely like a charleston mixed with a waltz that Selene was determined to try to copy. Neither she nor John were very good, not knowing the steps or the music enough to actually follow along and ended up finding their own rhythm, not caring that they didn’t match the others, not caring that they were slower and less energetic. It was nice, it was simple and it was very much them.

“Thank you for forcing me to celebrate my birthday,” she said, pulling him in closer to steal a quick kiss.

“My pleasure,” he grinned, twirling her on the spot then dipping her in his arms. “Anything for the birthday girl.”

-x-

“It was so nice to see Myst again,” Selene sighed, relaxing deeper into the passenger seat of Jeff’s jet as they cruised over the Pacific, on course for Tracy Island. 

“I haven’t seen her in two years, not since she last visited Tanzi, I can’t believe how great the shop looked, they’ve run it for years but don’t get to spend much time there.”

“Well, with what we spent they'll still be open for at least another ten,” he teased, not in the least concerned by her shopping spree. You only turned thirty once and if she wanted to buy up half of the shop that was her choice.

“I didn’t buy that much,” she pouted, but couldn’t hold it for too long when, with a no doubt on purpose twitch of the controls, the little plane rolled sideways, sending a number of bags cascading to the floor.

“You were saying?”

“That doesn’t prove anything,” she huffed, trying not to laugh. "You said they were birthday presents.”

“So I did,” he agreed, lifting his hand off her knee to poke the console, bringing up a comm line to the island, announcing their impending arrival.

Virgil had messaged earlier that morning to say that he was picking up Celia and Adam in time for their return, so all they had to worry about was enjoying a leisurely breakfast.

They took him at his word and shared a delicious three egg omelette, an order of beignets and the best coffee she had tasted in forever.  Bellies full and suitably rested after an uneventful nights sleep in the hotel, the resident ghosts declining to visit, they had wandered around Jackson Square and the shops of the French quarter. 

John had insisted that he was hungry again and craving something special for lunch, that something special had turned out to be oysters. Selene had watched in morbid fascination mixed with horror as he had proceeded to devour a dozen oysters speckled with hot sauce, which she refused to try, while she munched her seafood salad. She was still undecided if watching him swallow them down whole so easily was hot or disturbing, the jury was still out.

Cherise had been as good as her word, waiting for them to dock from the ferry and taxing them to the bar where the jet waited for them. They had waved a happy goodbye after awkwardly stuffing their shopping (the pieces they hadn’t arranged to have delivered) and overnight bags into the back and taken off for home.

“I hope mum doesn’t make dinner awkward,” Selene sighed, knowing that with her family anything was possible. “I know she’s going to be a bit disappointed that I didn’t want to spend the actual day with her.”

“Then let her, you can always blame it on me.”

“My hero,” she smiled, lifting his hand to her lips to kiss it. “What would I do without you?”

“Marry Scott?” he joked, ducking out of the way of the smack she aimed at his shoulder. 

“I think Cat would have something to say about that,” she huffed. “Besides, you know you’re the only man for me.”

“I know, but it’s nice to be reminded now and then.”

She was still giggling, feeling relaxed and happily clinging to his arm, as the lift from the hangars completed its ascent, the doors opening to spill them out into the hall just beyond the lounge.

“Why do I hear music?” Selene asked suspiciously.

“I have no idea,” John admitted as they rounded the corner into the lounge.

Selene stopped dead in the doorway, as did John, unable to believe what they were seeing with their own two eyes.

“Am I that old now that I need glasses,” she whispered, “or am I actually seeing this?”

“Unfortunately it’s very real,” he whispered back, wrapping his arm around her protectively.

The lounge lights were flickering to the beat of the music, someone had laid out food on the coffee table, including a plate of mini sausages that Armstrong was steadily working his way through and someone had opened the concealed drinks cabinet.

It wasn’t the fact that there was quite clearly a party in full swing, a party that she had said on no uncertain terms wasn’t to happen, it wasn’t the fact that the entire family , plus her mother, Adam, Cat, Penelope, Parker, Bandon, Conrad and Moffie were all there.

No, it was the fact that each and every one of them was sporting a wig in various shades and stripes of purple and black. Wigs they had apparently teamed with half the contents of her wardrobe and every band T-shirt Jeff had ever collected.

“What the ever loving fu-”

The music quietened as the party animals realised they were no longer alone. They looked at John and Selene rather guiltily, not saying a word.

Scott, who had somehow squeezed his chest back into her favourite corset, was tossed under the bus and shoved forward to greet her.

“I’m going to kill you,” she hissed, trying to back away as he advanced on her, arms open in anticipation of a hug.

The world's most annoying best friend simply grinned at her, flashing those dimples that he knew she could never resist.

She tried to duck behind John but Scott was too quick for her, herding her directly into the path of the oncoming Virgil.

She was swept up into a bone crushing bear hug, vanishing under the tide of Tracys that descended to join in.

-x-

“Admit it, it wasn’t that bad,” John said, catching up with her beside the pool and handing her another can of her favourite cherry coke.

“I didn’t want a party,” she argued.

“But…”

“But I guess it wasn’t that bad,” she admitted, moving over on the padded bench seat to make room for him to sit next to her.

“They only did it because they love you.”

“I know, but they are all idiots.”

“I know, but it was a special birthday and they wanted to celebrate with you.”

“I know,” she said, leaning against his side with a contented sigh. 

"I've got a present for you," he announced, jiggling his shoulder to get her to move and shifting so he could dig into his hoodie pocket. 

"Really? Why?" 

"Because it's your birthday."

 "You really didn't have to, New Orleans was more than enough."

"The trip was supposed to have been for our anniversary, I just moved it forward," he reminded her. "Besides, I'd be a pretty lousy husband if I didn't get you something special to mark the occasion."

He offered her a bright green velvet pouch which looked to contain something rectangular and hard. 

"Open it," he instructed. 

"OK." She did as he bid, noticing that he was watching her very closely. Did he think she wouldn't like it? 

She loosened the draw strings and tipped the pouch up, catching the bundle of cards that slid out. 

"Tarot cards? What are they…" she paused, turning them over, her eyes widening as she realised exactly what they depicted. 

"Oh my gods," she gasped then burst out laughing. "These are amazing!" 

She flicked through them quickly, laughing even more at some of the pictures, each matching perfectly with the subject. 

"Where the hell did you find Muppets Tarot cards?" Kermit was the Emperor, Miss Piggy his Empress, Fozzy the Fool, Sam the Eagle as Justice, Animal as the Devil and most perfect of all, Statler and Waldorf as Judgement. 

"Tanzi put me in touch with someone who makes one of a kind sets to order," he replied, breathing a little easier now that he saw she liked them. 

"They're perfect, absolutely perfect. I love them so much."

"Good," he smiled, slipping his arm back around her waist and pulling her in closer. "I wasn't sure if it was something you would like or I should actually buy for you and didn't want to do the wrong thing. But Tanzi said that tarot cards are often gifted to people so it was OK." 

"Why would you think I wouldn't like them?" she asked softly. 

"I know how important your tools are to you and how Nathaniel never respected them. I guess I wanted to show you that I care too, that I'll always respect you and your beliefs."

"You are the best husband in the world," she assured him, pulling him closer for a kiss. "I love that you did this and I love that you know me so well that you could commission the most perfect set of cards just for me. Thank you, I love them."

"You're very welcome. I'm glad you like them."

"You always surprise me, just when I think you couldn't be any more amazing you pull something like this out of the bag, literally," she laughed, holding up the green pouch. 

"So, does this mean that you enjoyed turning thirty?" 

“I guess, as birthdays go, it wasn’t too awful.”

“Not too awful?” he mock gasped, clutching his heart. 

“Not awful,” she repeated, tipping her head back for another kiss. “Did you know they were planning all that?”

“Not all of it,” he admitted, “I suspected that they might not stick to a quiet meal but the rest was as much of a surprise to me as it was you.”

She let out an elegant snort in response, clearly not convinced.

“Honestly it was,” he promised, making the rescue scout sign. "Scouts honour."

“OK, I believe you, even though you weren't the scout, Scott was.”

“Thank you,” he grinned, draping his arm around her shoulders, his head tipped back to look up at the night sky above their heads. “All over for another year, how do you feel?”

“Better than I did yesterday morning,” she answered.

“Good, then my work here is done.”

She nodded, resting her head against his shoulder, just enjoying the peace of the late night,

“You’re quiet,” he said softly a few minutes later. “Everything alright?”

“Yep,” she promised. "I'm just thinking.”

“Care to share what you’re thinking so hard about?”

“Yep,” she repeated, grinning evilly. “I was thinking that mine isn't the only special birthday this year.”

Realisation dawned on him, a feeling of dread skittering up his spine.

“No, absolutely not.”

“But you said it yourself, you only turn thirty once.”

“No.”

“You forced me to celebrate, so it’s your turn next.”

“No, listen to me very carefully. I, as your husband, forbid it.”

“I’m thinking of a nice, relaxing trip somewhere quiet. I’ve heard that Finland does an amazing range of glass igloos to stay in to watch the sky, it's supposed to be beautiful that time of year.”

That didn't sound too bad, he had to admit. 

“OK, that wouldn’t be too terrible,” he agreed, breathing a sigh of relief. “For a second I thought you were going to say you were planning a party.”

“Would I do that?” she asked innocently, sliding out of his arms and off the bench. "I'm just going to show these to Mum, she'll have a fit."

“No, you aren't. Get back here. I forbid you to even think about planning a party."

"I'm not planning anything," she said, deftly avoiding his attempts to catch her and pull her back down. 

"Promise me you won't plan a party," he pleaded. 

"I promise," she vowed, dancing around the side of the pool towards the kitchen. 

John's eyes narrowed, she looked entirely too suspicious…

“I’m going to leave that to Scott.”

She dropped her bombshell, turned tail and ran like her life depended on it. 

[hoodwinkd1]

the stars that shine Ch 2

Ch 1 here.

Chapter 2: woke up to find that summer gone

Evangeline sat at the dark cherry desk in her bedroom, staring down at the piece of parchment which seemed to be staring right back at her. She had picked up a pen almost half an hour ago and had successfully written one line.

Dear Lys,

“Damn this!” Tossing the pen to the side, she stood and began pacing around the bed. Normally, her letters back to Caraverre were pages and pages of stories, filled with every minute detail and every silly joke that Lysandra and Aedion might enjoy. Tonight, she could barely get her thoughts in order enough to discuss what she’d eaten for dinner two hours ago.

Evangeline knew exactly who to blame for this conundrum. Hollin Havilliard.

Her first two weeks in Rifthold were amazing. Ever the social butterfly and lacking peer friendships back in Terrasen, Evangeline absolutely loved getting to know the other students in her lessons.

“You should come shopping with us next week,” Regina suggested, her smile genuine. As the third eldest daughter of the Callot family, the largest noble support of Adarlan’s fashion industry, Regina would certainly have good taste. “Anya and I are looking for springtime outfits.”

The other girl had jumped in then. “How long will you be staying? My parents always plan a trip to the country house right after the Spring Solstice and I can bring a few friends.”

So yes, Evangeline had no problem making friends. She was downright delightful and ready to try anything, go on any adventure.

Her lessons were equally wonderful. Part of the reason she came to Rifthold was to expand her education, filling in gaps that Darrow had no expertise in, and she enjoyed the challenge immensely.

Point being, she should have plenty to write home about. The shopping trip, the mathematics concept she finally mastered, even the amazing duck stew she tried two nights ago.

Unfortunately, the fond memory of her duck stew faded when she remembered what had immediately followed.

Dear Lys,

I had the most awkward night of my life. I’m relatively confident I’ve made my first enemy and I may never go back to the ballet after this traumatizing experience.

No, she couldn’t possibly send that. Aedion would charge into the palace and demand revenge at the mere thought of anyone disliking Evangeline, if he didn’t laugh himself to death trying to imagine the concept first.

Her popularity aside, she was still in disbelief. Hollin had approached her first, offering to escort her to the royal box at the Rifthold Theater for a travelling dance troupe that evening. Evangeline accepted (delightfully and more than ready for an adventure). She even dug through her closet for the stunning cerulean gown Aelin had gifted for her fourteenth birthday.

And then the prince proceeded to ignore her. All night.

“Who goes two entire hours without speaking one word?” Evangeline grumbled, moving towards her closet to grab a nightgown. The letter could wait until tomorrow. “Why bother inviting me in the first place?”

Whatever. She would be just fine with her new friends, who’s families also owned boxes at the theater.

----

“It’s been two days.” Dorian dropped into the chair next to Hollin. “Two whole days, and I haven’t heard a word from either of you. Quite rude, if you ask me, considering it was my idea to take her to the ballet.”

Hollin kept his eyes on the book in front of him. “Some people think it’s rude to speak in a library. And yet, here we are.”

The king sighed, as if his little brother’s social life was as draining as running a nation. “At least tell me if you enjoyed yourself. Or if you think Eva enjoyed herself.”

“The dancers were talented.” Hollin turned a page. “I can’t speak for someone else’s opinion.”

Dorian huffed. “I meant, did you enjoy spending time with her?”

Hollin shut the book with a bit more force than needed. “Do you have nothing better to do than force me to go on dates with your friends’ wards? I’m working on something here.”

“It wasn’t meant to be a date!” Dorian protested. “Just...Evangeline is so delightful. And friendly. I thought she could, you know, be a friend?” His words trailed off at the end.

He heard the unspoken words. Hollin was not delightful and not friendly. Dorian probably hoped this picture-perfect girl could change him, mold him into a better prince.

“She has friends. And I have work to do.” He looked pointedly at the book strewn across his lap.

Dorian, finally, took the hint. “Fine. Enjoy your suspicious research.” He stood up, fixing his tunic. “I expect to see you at the merchant’s council dinner tomorrow night.”

Hollin waved him off. “See you then.” He’d been searching for some excuse to get out of that event, some way to avoid all the grouchy, greedy men that tried to grab the king’s attention.

Maybe if he fell off a horse, he could avoid politics for a few days.

----

The two months passed quite quickly. Evangeline was expected home in time for Aedion’s birthday celebration, so she took the last day in Rifthold to search for a gift. He might grumble about her spending money on him, letting his annoyance over aging take over his usual good mood, but Eva knew he would secretly cherish something special.

Anya had offered to join her, commandeering her family’s carriage for the trip. The two of them, along with Regina, had become inseparable during Evangeline’s stay.

She had never had friendships that were entirely her own before, outside of her family’s vast and unyielding legacy. Spending the day shopping tasted like freedom and youth.

“Where are we heading first?” Anya asked, shifting her long skirt to make room for Evangeline to sit on the bench next to her. “What does one even buy for the most infamous General in the world?”

So maybe she never could fully escape that legacy. Evangeline chose to ignore the honorific. “Aedion? He can be quite the sentimental type. I was imagining some sort of calendar he could use; one that I’d add drawings and photos and secret notes to. Something useful, but still personalized.”

“Oh, thank the Gods. I was terrified you would drag me to some boring weapons shop.” Anya fanned herself in mock horror. “Minsky’s has the best stationery.”

Once they arrived, Evangeline lost herself in the rows of parchment. She adored the smell of the shop, somewhere between a library and perfumery, thanks to the variety of candles that lined the walls.

She wandered for a while, enjoying the feel of books, journals, scrolls, and other trinkets underneath her fingertips. Anya struck up a conversation with Minsky, the elderly owner who apparently had very strong opinions about what time of day one should light lavender candles.

Evangeline stopped in front of the rack she’d been looking for, eyeing the different color choices. Each calendar looked sturdy and durable, perfect for Aedion’s regular travels, but only a few had carrier cases. She selected the emerald one, to match Lysandra’s eyes.

“Oh that’s lovely!” Anya beamed as Evangeline joined them at the counter. “Very practical.”

Minksy nodded solemnly as they checked the price. “Smart child, finding a way to stay organized.”

“It’s actually a gift,” Evangeline corrected. “Would you have any wrapping supplies?”

They pulled out a few choices of paper, and the girls left the shop with the package securely tucked under Evangeline’s arm.

Anya opened the door of the carriage to let her enter first. “Do we have any other errands - Gods!” Her question was cut off with a curse. “Galen, you scared the life out of me.”

Evangeline found herself face first with Anya’s older brother. He shot her an apologetic look.

“I spotted the carriage and didn’t fancy a walk back to the house,” he explained, musing at his dark locks with one hand. “Any change you two lovely ladies want to go out for lunch?”

“You are unbelievably annoying,” Anya sighed. She moved to sit next to him, glancing at Evangeline. “What do you think? One last meal before you go?”

Galen turned to face her as well. “Leaving so soon?”

Evangeline hadn’t had many interactions with the older boy. Galen had danced with her at one of their parents’ parties, and had teased her a couple times when she joined them for dinner. But all of a sudden, Evangeline found herself wishing for some more time in Rifthold for an entirely new reason.

“I have to return to Caraverre tomorrow,” she informed him. “It’s my....it’s Aedion’s birthday.” Explaining their relationship was difficult enough, and easily avoided since everyone knew exactly who he was.

“Pity,” Galen replied. “But that just means I have to treat you to the best sandwiches Rifthold has to offer before you go.”

Anya groaned. “He always drags us to this tiny little place, when there are plenty of nice restaurants around.”

“A tiny little place sounds perfect,” Evangeline reassured. The carriage jolted forward, carrying them away from the main streets.

An hour later, she wasn’t lying in the slightest when she praised her meal. The sandwiches were really quite good. And the twinkle in Galen’s eyes when she stole one of his chips was even better.

“Oh goodness,” Anya interrupted as they stepped outside into the twilight hour. “I left my pouch at the table. Be right back.” She strode back into the restaurant, leaving Galen and Evangeline alone by the doorway.

Galen leaned against the stone. “Do you have plans to return to Adarlan?”

“Not in the next half-year,” Evangeline admitted. Her thumb rubbed the edge of her pointer finger, a nervous tick despite her calm tone. Was there meaning behind his question? “I’m due to spend two months with one of my mentors in Arran after some time at home.”

“Pity.” He offered her a light smile. She prayed to the former Gods to keep her face from turning pink. “Next time you come around, I’ll have to move faster. Ask you on a date at the beginning of your stay, instead of the end.”

Evangeline couldn’t hold back a wide grin. “Yes, I suppose you will.”

---

Hollin threw himself onto his bed, head spinning a bit from the wine he snuck during dinner. Evangeline was leaving tomorrow, a fact that wouldn’t affect his life much since Dorian had stopped forcing a friendship between them.

Maybe the wine was a mistake. The prince didn’t like alcohol much, knew he was far too young to start drinking, but insomnia had plagued him for weeks now. Hollin tried so many home remedies, from herbal teas to meditation, before attempting to drink himself to sleep that night.

It wasn’t working.

He still couldn’t force his mind to relax. Ideas for new experiments and inventions swirled around, mixed with memories of his most recent failures that stabbed him with self-doubt. Then came the childhood memories, the horror of being raised by the devil without noticing and the shame of past cruelties keeping him far from relaxation.

Hollin groaned into his pillow. He wanted someone to talk to. It was such a simple solution, one that most people would find easy. Dorian had even hired a specialist, a healer who worked with minds as well as bodies, for palace staff who needed help after a traumatizing war. Hollin had paced by their office more times than he could count, never entering.

Somehow, he fell asleep before sunrise. A sharp knock at the door yanked him out of restless dreams.

“Hollin?” He recognized Herina’s voice, one of his personal servants who was years past using formalities. Changing a baby's diaper gave one that privilege. “I have your schedule for the day.”

Hollin stood up, blindly feeling for the robe hanging next to his dresser. “Come in, thank you.”

She pushed the door open, pulling a cart of food behind her. “I didn’t see you eat nearly enough at dinner last night, certainly not enough to be stealing drinks of wine like you did.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but shut it quickly. “I - thank you,” he said again, too tired to form a better sentence.

Herina left the cart by the entrance and walked further into the chamber. “You have a couple lessons scheduled, one before lunch and one in the evening. Light day.”

“Not too terrible.” Hollin took the parchment from her. “Herina..” He trailed off.

“Yes?”

“Could you - do you know how to add things to my schedule?” he asked.

She nodded. “Of course. What grabbed your interest?”

He pushed past his discomfort at the idea. If he didn’t sleep well after, that would be the end of it. “Training. Physical, that is. I’d like to learn how to fight.”

Herina eyed him warily, no doubt taking in the lanky and awkward features that haunted most fourteen year old boys. “You know the king would never expect you to fight. He knows that isn’t where your interests lie.”

“I know.” Gods, he was blushing now. “It’s for myself, just a new hobby.”

Thankfully she moved on. “Well, alright then. Don’t be late today.”

With a final meaningful look at the breakfast, she left. Hollin thought about ignoring the food and falling immediately back to sleep, but his stomach chose that moment to growl loudly. He would need the calories if he planned to actually follow through with his new training idea.

If getting knocked on his ass for two hours a day didn’t help him fall asleep, then nothing would,

[joyful-soul-collector]

About Me

I was tagged by @theswordofpens! I started a new post for this cuz the other one was getting hella long with reblogs lol. Anyway, let’s get on to the questions!

How tall are you?

5′7 or 170.18cm

What color and style is your hair?

That is a debated topic actually. My hair is dyed bright blue, but the natural parts of it people can never decide if it’s black or dark brown. In the summer sun, it’s dark brown, but it’s not always summer and I’m inside 90% of the time, so it looks black very often. So really depends on the lighting of the situation. Though people tend to focus more on the fact that my hair is blue rather than what color the natural parts are lol. My hair is a pretty basic short haircut, short on the sides, little longer on top, a bit of bangs that get in my eyes sometimes. 

What color are your eyes?

Again, debated topic, and for the same reason as my hair. Sometimes dark brown, sometimes black, depends on the light. 

Do you wear glasses?

Yep! They’re red on the inside and black on the outside. 

Do you wear braces?

Yeah, my family was finally able to get me braces a while ago! I guess most kids get them when they’re younger, before their teeth have the chance to get worse, and they only have to have them on for a year or so? But we were only able to get them when I entered sophomore year of high school, so I have to have them for three years since my teeth had gotten so bad. They’re a lot better now, and hopefully I’ll be able to get them off before I go to community college 😅

What’s your fashion sense?

Does fandom nerd count as a category of fashion? I wear a lot of shirts with references to tv shows. All of my shirts have some sort of graphic on it, and I also have a couple zip-up hoodies that are tv show references. I also wear bright red sneakers every day, big bright red headphones that I wear every day, and a wallet chain that I wear every day. So all of that, combined with bright blue hair, seems to make for a... noticeable person haha. 

What is your full name?

Marko Polo

(Nice try, I’m not saying personal stuff on here haha)

Where were you born?

Not gonna say exactly where, but in the more southern part of California. 

Where are you from and where do you live now?

Alright, so technically I’m from a few different places. I was born in southern CA and lived there til I was 8, then we moved to super north-western WA where I lived until I was almost 13, and then we moved to central PA, where we celebrated my 13th birthday like a week after arriving. I’ve lived here in PA ever since, so that’s five years here in a couple months. 

What school do you go to?

A High School

What kind of student are you?

I’m an alright student? I struggle with school, especially with all the moving I’ve had to do. Different schools have different expectations and vary in a lot of ways. I also have ADHD (more inattentive, less hyperactive) and Anxiety, which has not exactly been a help haha. I’ve always needed tutors and extensions and my 504 Plan, but if I have those I can often get good grades!

Do you like school?

School is meh. It’s stressful and exhausting, which is frustrating because I have other stuff I want do outside school, but I can’t do half of it because I have hw and chores and any other random things that need to get done. But my school is very high quality compared to most public schools! We have so many resources and amazing classes, and I love attending there, but unfortunately the people are not my favorite. Most of them are rich kids who have never attended anything other than really fancy schools, so they often take what they have for granted. I’ve heard kids say “our school is trash” while sitting in our Forensic Science class, in front of a school issued computer that we get to take home every day. It bothers me to NO END how some of these people act, but oh well. 

Favorite subject?

English! English has always been my favorite subject, I love stories. 

Favorite TV shows?

Ohhhhhhh man here we go (in no particular order): Firefly, Dollhouse, Buffy: The Vampire Slayer, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Demon Slayer, Legend of Korra, My Hero Academia, Sense8, Sherlock, Death Note, Lovesick, One Punch Man, Series of Unfortunate Events, The Good Place, Galavant, Parks and Rec, The Office, iZombie, Kill la Kill, Community, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, The Umbrella Academy, Brooklyn Nine-Nine, Naruto, Batman The Animated Series, Travelers, Sex Education, Cells at Work, Death Parade, The Promised Neverland, RWBY

Tbh there might be more but those are the ones I could find haha. If you haven’t seen these, watch em, pretend this is a rec list, and then come and yell at me about how good they are. 

Favorite movies?

Again, here we go (in no particular order): The Iron Giant, 10 Cloverfield Lane, Cabin in the Woods, any and all MCU movies (but especially Spider-Man), Into The Spider-Verse, Scott Pilgrim vs The World, anything Bo Burnham, anything John Mulaney, James Acaster: Repertoire, The Prestige, The Usual Suspects, Planet of the Apes, Lars and the Real Girl, Her, Newsies, Baby Driver, Serenity, Liar Liar, Crazy Stupid Love, Bandersnatch, ARQ, Cloverfield, A Silent Voice, Klaus, How To Train Your Dragon, Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog

There are definitely more, I just couldn’t think of them haha. Again, watch these, and then come and freak out with me about how they’re amazing. 

Favorite books?

Let’s do this one last time (in no particular order, of course): Ready Player One, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Harry Potter, the Gone series, Saga, Sweet Tooth, Chew, Nimona, The Tea Dragon Society, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Lumberjanes, Invincible, Runaways, Calvin and Hobbes, Prince and the Dressmaker, Here, Plutona, Sculptor, Invincible, The Sword, Ultimate Spider-Man, Holes, Saving CeeCee Honeycutt, The Giver

There are definitely, 100% more books that I haven’t listed, again, I can’t think of them rn. Also, if you don’t recognize half of these titles, you probably don’t read comics/graphic novels. You should be reading those. Read them and then come and rant about how good they are so I get to tell you I told you so. 

Favorite past time?

Writing! Watching tv! Reading! Spacing out so much people have to say my name ten times before I come hurtling back to earth! Talking to friends!

Do you have any regrets?

Yeah, I wish I’d stood up for myself when I was younger. I was bullied for a really long time, and even though it’s been a couple years since the last I was bullied, it’s still really hard for me to tell people what I want and and don’t want. I think I’m a little better than I used to be though, which is good!

What’s your dream job?

Author definitely, but I doubt I’ll be able to do that for a real job. Tbh I just want a job that I can do in my sleep. Repetitive, pays well, not too exhausting, that way I have energy and time to do my writing and all the things I want to do at home. 

Would you like to be married?

I think so. I want to have a person I can live my life with, who I want to care for and who wants to care for me. If I’m not married I’d like an S.O. or even just a really good friend to live with. I think I’d get sad living by myself haha. 

Do you want kids?

I want to be a foster parent! I’ve loved helping people my whole life, and I think this is one of the best ways that I can help someone going through a rough time. I don’t want biological kids though tbh, not really for any one reason, just for a bunch of little ones. 

How many?

Dunno man. I wanna help as many kids as I can. 

Do you like shopping?

I do! However I don’t do it often because I have no money. I do like walking around stores and looking a cool stuff though, especially nerdy stores like Hot Topic or Boxed Lunch or any book/comic shop. 

What countries have you visited?

Canada, usually to visit family, once to see Niagara Falls! Never been anywhere else though, but I have a whole list of places I wanna see

Scariest nightmare you’ve ever had?

TW: SELF HARM/DEATH

Oof, see my dreams are always nightmares, and my nightmares are always hella terrifying. Often they’re of my worst fears: family telling me they hate me, finding the body of someone in my family, old bullies coming back, but in my worst one I found my little sister cutting herself in an old warehouse. I don’t actually remember much of what happened after I woke up, it was so bad I disassociated for the whole day. But luckily, I don’t dream often. 

Do you have any enemies?

No? Maybe? I have people I hate, my old bullies mainly, but I’m not around them anymore so it’s not like I spend time hating them. 

Do you have any self doubts?

Yeah I have this hilariously fun thing where I think everyone is just pretending to like me because they can’t pick up the courage to stop hanging out with me. Or that if I talk about what’s making me sad/stressed out then I’m being a burden on other people or being dramatic. Slowly working over that but it’s still hard. 

Do you have any significant others?

Nope

Do you believe in miracles?

Depends. I don’t believe in fate or the idea that something higher up is pulling strings. But I think crazy cool stuff can happen. But that’s just luck and coincidence. For me, miracles are the positive ends of luck and coincidence. 

How are you?

Meeeeehhhhh. School sucks, my sisters stress me out, and my parents are breathing down my neck about fifty different things. But I have a couple good friends and my writing and good stories to read and watch, so it’s not all bad :]

Tag ten tumblrs (tag last ten people in my notifications): @tracle0 @humblesavant @holystudenthologramy @federluftmask @phahbiyah @topazastral @dragon-s-bane @cassius-mortemer @saiko-tsuki @writing-another-star

[emma-nation]

Without You - Bloodbound AU (Chapter 6) *For You Sequel*

Summary: Gaius is back. While coming up with a plan to take him down, the gang must deal with some new life-changing events.

Genre: Angst/Adventure/Romance

Rating: T - Warning for violence and language

Tag List: @begging-for-kamilah, @lulu-the-cat, @ilovekamilahsayeed, @zoe6111, @kennaxval

Notes:

- English is my second language, please forgive me for any mistakes.

- Hope you enjoy it, your reviews and likes are always appreciated.

- My apologies for taking so long to update. Between family problems and my computer dying, I had no internet access for almost a month.

Amy

The sunlight reflecting on her face made Amy wake up from her sleep. Drowsy, she realized she had fallen asleep at the Hamptons’ house doorstep. Still no signs of Kamilah, but Lysimachus replied her text.

After giving him the directions, her brother-in-law arrived some time later.

“Well, it seems like we’ll have to do it the wrong way,” he started picking the door lock. “If the house really belongs to Kamilah I’m sure she’ll eventually forgive me,” he shrugged.

"Whoa,” Amy opened her mouth in astonishment as she followed him inside. The modern-styled house was huge and incredibly beautiful. It had a large swimming pool and a spaceful backyard with direct access to the beach.

“Hey, she brought some clothes,” Lysimachus announced, emerging from one of the bedrooms. “This is definitely where she spent the last few days.”

At the kitchen, they found two empty glasses, suggesting Kamilah also had a visitor recently.

“We’ll never find out who it was,” Amy complained.

“Don’t be that pessimistic,” Lysimachus quickly grabbed his phone. “Most of these fancy houses have surveillance cameras.”

They sat on the couch and he hacked through the security system, searching for footage from the last couple of days.

“Found it. It was Kaira, a member of Kamilah’s Clan. I’ve met her once.”

“How long did she stay?”

“Quick visit, less than one hour. Only time enough for a drink. I’ll get her number and try to obtain some information.”

After many attempts, Kaira was unreachable. She had been declared missing, like three other members of Clan Sayeed.

“It has Gaius’ name written all over it,” Lysimachus angered, slamming his fist on the coffee table.

Amy felt a strange pain in her stomach. If Gaius had really gotten Kamilah, at this time she could be dead. Walking away from her brother-in-law, she went to one of the bedrooms, where she grabbed one of Kamilah’s shirts and held it tightly to her chest. It still had her fragrance on it.

“Please, be okay. I need you to be okay.”

Inside the drawer, she found a binder with plans for their wedding.

Not only Kamilah had bought that house for the party, but she also picked the most beautiful flowers for the decoration and a sophisticated buffet menu. The cake was Amy’s favorite flavor and she didn’t forget to include the chocolate fountain Amy begged for, even if she mocked it in the beginning.

“Amy, are you getting married or throwing a birthday party? Chocolate fountain?! Please.”

Amy gave a small smile, followed by a tear that streamed down across her cheek.

“Amy, let’s…” Lysimachus entered the room, noticing she was crying. “What is that?”

He took the wedding plans from her hands and read it.

“She planned us the most perfect wedding party and I threw everything away! Because of a psycho bitch that manipulated every inch of my stupid brain!”

Her brother-in-law involved her in a warm and assuring hug.

“We’ll find her alive and safe. You are having this party, are you listening? I promise you. I’m Kamilah’s best man after all.”

“Oh,” Amy let out a small laugh, “I thought there was a dispute between you and Adrian?”

“Yeah… she has two best men. And it’s their duty to assure she’ll make to this wedding.”

Amy smiled and hugged him back.

“Now let’s go. We need to find your runaway bride.”

———-

Kamilah

Taking a deep sigh, Kamilah looked to both sides before deciding to leave the car. Her mind still wasn’t working properly. Driving without a specific direction, she stopped at her penthouse’s edifice. Her clothes were covered in blood. Human blood. She couldn’t allow herself to be seen or caught. Using her vampire abilities, she streaked up using the emergency staircase, until she got home.

Throwing herself at the couch, she was unsure of what to do. It was only the beginning. That was only the first proof she had to give Gaius of her loyalty. There was more to come, she knew. Things she would no longer accept to be submitted to. And there was Amy… Amy was her biggest weakness at the moment. He surely knew that. It was a matter of time until she had the same fate as many of her past lovers.

“I need to end this,” she clenched her jaw.

After making sure Lysimachus wasn’t home, she used the extra key she had to explore his apartment. He had a secret weapon against Gaius. An old ritual he hadn’t told anyone about. She just needed to find it and perform it. All by herself. She wasn’t going to risk anybody else’s life.

Between short and shallow breaths, she opened every drawer, checked every shelf, before noticing the ancient book was lying open on his desk. Using her cell phone’s camera she took pictures of the pages she needed.

A click coming from the front door made her freeze in place. She needed to leave or hide immediately, but before she could even act, Priya was standing in front of her.

“Kamilah?!” Somehow she looked surprised. “What are you doing here? Jeez, you look terrible! Is that blood…”

“Priya!” She frowned, censoring the younger vampire with her furious glare. That sadistic imbecile had probably been sleeping with her brother again. “Where is Lysimachus?”

“He left a few hours ago. He went to meet…”

“Good,” Kamilah interrupted, giving her no more time to speak. Knowing her brother was alive was enough. She passed by the fashion designer and left the apartment, returning to her penthouse.

Under the shower, she frantically rubbed her arms and hands while tears kept streaming down her face. It didn’t matter how much she had already washed herself, it seemed like the blood of all those mortals was still impregnated in every layer of her skin. As well as the feeling of Gaius’ lips being pressed on hers.

She looked herself at the mirror and all she could see was a monster. His Queen again.

When she left the bedroom to get dressed, she heard a noise. The penthouses’ door opened. It could only be Gaius, she thought. He knew she hadn’t been hypnotized. Like he always managed to find out everything. Holding both of her daggers firmly, she walked in stealthy steps. When the figure passed through the door she was ready to strike.

“Amy?!” Her eyes went wide in shock. Her fiancée was the last person she expected to see in that moment.

———-

Lysimachus

It was around lunch time, but Lysimachus was sitting at a bar, staring at the bottom of an empty glass. The third he had so far. Alcohol never fails to dull the pain, Kamilah would always say.

Aside from his sister’s possible kidnap by Gaius Augustine, something else was puzzling his mind. Priya.

After hours of intense sexual intercourse he was exhausted, but not enough to make him fall asleep. Lying on his chest, he watched her. She looked almost… innocent. There was so much about her he didn’t know. He wondered what was her story. What could be hidden behind vicious and cold personality?

“I’m sorry, Hunter,” she murmured before falling asleep. “I mean it.”

Yet, when she woke up she was back to her usual self. While having breakfast, she was focused on an app, that she paid to be created for herself. ’Bleeder’ it was called. Using it, she browsed for mortals that were willing to satiate her blood thirsty, as if she was picking a date.

“Ha! That’s a match!” She celebrated, staring at the picture of a middle-aged man on her screen. “Gotta go.”

“What’s in your head?” A female voice coming from behind brought him back to reality.

“Hey you,” he turned around to see the young witch who helped him to obtain the daylight rings. “Thanks for meeting me.”

She ordered herself a meal. Chicken nuggets. He only observed, as she teased and mocked him, knowing it was a common distaste among vampires.

“So… you’re not having any of these,” she playfully took a bite.

“Not today, no.”

“You’re not in a good mood, I can see.”

“I had a difficult night. I couldn’t get any sleep.”

“Oh.”

He gulped, wondering what was giving it away. Were there any bruises on his neck that hadn’t healed yet?

“This is not what I meant,” he felt he was blushing a little. “I can’t stop worrying about Kamilah.”

“So… let’s change the subject, why did you want to see me?”

He grabbed copies of the pages from the ancient book. Though she had examined it before, she had been studying Wright’s books, to see if she could offer any help.

“This symbol,” he pointed. “I can’t find its meaning anywhere.”

“Hmmm,” she was pensive. “Neither did I but…” she ran a finger through the page. Lysimachus knew she was trying to obtain a vision, a connection with her witch ancestors.

“This symbol was created to protect something… a great source of power…” suddenly her eyes went wide in shock. “S-Sorry, I can’t say anything else.”

“Come on, you’re the only person that can help me to rescue my sister!”

“I-I… The ancient witch power is blocking me. I’m sorry.”

He sighed in frustration. After she left, he called Lily. Apparently she had news for him, about the remaining parts of the ritual. When he entered the car, a message appeared on his screen.

Hunter. Come home ASAP.

I can’t. I have important matters to take care of.

It’s a f****** EMERGENCY!

Rolling his eyes, he wondered what trouble Priya had caused this time. As he promised himself, it was the last time. Depending of the damage she caused, he’d kick her out of his apartment and take the case to The Council. She had no right to jeopardize the most important mission of their lives. The one that was supposed to decide their fate and the fate of humanity.

“Forget it,” he turned off his cellphone, “I’m meeting Lily first.”

However, when he returned home, Priya was impatiently waiting for him, with a surprised look and a grin on her face.

“Why did you took so long? I did something that will make you forgive me… I found Kamilah.”

———-

Amy

In a fancy restaurant, Amy studied Kamilah’s behavior. That wasn’t the Kamilah she was used to. She looked extremely anxious, uncomfortable and avoiding her gaze the entire time, as if she was trying to hide all her distress. When Amy entered the penthouse, the first she noticed was her fearful expression and the daggers, being held firmly in her hands.

After dodging all her questions with technical answers about the legal procedure that was being moved against her company and the solutions her lawyers were working on, Amy finally concluded that behavior had nothing to do with Ahmanet Financial. It was deeper than that.

“So… uhhh…” Amy tried to break the silence, “have you canceled our wedding party? I mean, if you want… we’re still in time.”

“We’d have to rush a lot of things,” Kamilah coldly replied, her eyes never leaving a glass of wine. “The dresses aren’t finished. I told you Priya should not be trusted.”

“That was my fault, she went to London to make the final adjustments but I missed the sessions. I was too focused on…” remembering Wright made her twitch in anger.

“I forgot to cancel. Actually, we can solve that tomorrow.”

“Now I’m back, there aren’t any reasons why we should cancel. Priya can make the final adjustments, after all she has been living with your brother.”

“She has been… what?!” After almost chocking with her wine, Kamilah shook her head in a mix of disappointment and shock.

Another silence settled between them. She didn’t answer what Amy wanted to hear.

“Are there, Kamilah?” She insisted. “Any reasons why we should cancel our wedding?”

“I-I…” she bit her lower lip. “You should return to London.”

“I’m not returning. The course is over and I’m no longer part of the… fair.”

“You didn’t tell me about it, what happened?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

When Amy noticed she was raising her voice, she concluded it was time to call it a night and go home. The first thing she did once they got home, was to confront Kamilah again.

“You’re hiding things from me again. It’s Gaius, isn’t it? He came after you!”

Kamilah looked down at the floor. Amy noticed she had stopped breathing.

A realization suddenly came. The things Kamilah told her about her past with him. The things he forced her to do. The manipulation, the punishments, the trauma.

“Oh my god! W-What did he do to you?” At this point, Amy was trying to not cry. “H-He didn’t…”

“Amy…” Kamilah finally shouted, firm and demanding. “If you have any love for your life, I suggest you to leave through this door right now and forget you’ve ever met me. My brother can debrief you, if you want.”

Amy stared at her in silence for a brief moment before involving her in the tightest of the hugs. She could sense Kamilah’s insecurity, her fear, her vulnerability and that, broke her heart more than anything. She couldn’t hold back her tears anymore.

“No,” she shook her head and wiped the tears from her cheeks, “I don’t fear Gaius. I’m not going anywhere or leaving you. We will fight together.”

———-

Lysimachus

"Don’t joke about it. Okay, Priya? Not about my sister!”

“Gosh, you won’t ever trust me, will you?!” She frowned. “She was right here, in your office! With a maniac look on her face and clothes covered in blood. Human blood. I sniffed it.”

“What?”

After leaving the restaurant, Lysimachus decided to ignore Priya’s supposed emergency and meet Lily at the Shadow Den. That was his priority. She had news for him about the ritual.

“This symbols,” she pointed, explaining, “are telling you need to trap him inside a magical seal.”

“Easy,” he sighed. “I’ve learned how to create a magical seal.”

“Then, you need another spell. To weaken him. I’m figuring out the ingredients we’ll need.”

“Good. And the two remaining items? Could you figure them out?”

“Not yet, but… we’re getting close.”

He didn’t believe Priya at first, but after going to the penthouse to check on Amy, he found her sitting on the couch. Paralyzed and frightened. Kamilah had indeed returned. She told him everything. The few details she was able to make Kamilah spill.

“So, he lured her into a trap and attempted to hypnotize her?”

“Yes, somehow she managed to break the spell, but Gaius doesn’t know it. He thinks she’s under his influence, after making her prove her loyalty.”

“What kind of proof?” He narrowed his eyes in pure rage, imagining what that son of a bitch could’ve possibly submitted his sister to.

“He uh… made her slaughter and feed from a group of mortals.”

While Kamilah was no longer very sympathetic of mortals, Lysimachus knew that at this time she should be feeling somehow guilty. After Amy, her views about the mortal world had softened a little.

“Where is she now, Amy?”

“Sleeping. I discreetly gave her some tranquilizers, she was in too much distress.”

Lysimachus went to the mastersuite where he stroke his sister smooth hair and kissed her forehead. He was relieved she was safe, and he’d do anything to protect her. Even if that meant he’d have to sacrifice his own life.

Later, he was sitting at his home office with a smirk on his face when Priya arrived.

“Where were you so late?”

“Worried much, Hunter?”

He rolled his eyes in response.

“I was at my house, with some members of my Clan.”

“Hmpft,” he took a sip of his drink. “I can image doing what.”

“Training,” she placed herself in front of him, facing him closely. “After all, I’m supposed to kick Gaius old ass, right?”

“Hmmm, growing responsibilities…” he mocked. “I like it.”

“What about you? What’s with that smirk?”

Lysimachus served her a glass of his whiskey.

“Know why we get along, Priya?”

“We’re both good in bed?”

“Other than that. We know how to play games.”

“What do you mean?”

He told her his latest plans. He was one step ahead of Gaius, like the old times. Lysimachus knew his location, but he wasn’t aware of that.

His next move was to forge a document, where Kamilah supposedly gave him entire control over her Clan. The word spread to the hypnotized members was that they were sent to different parts of the country, searching for Gaius. In truth, they were all safely hiding in a small town in Indiana. Gaius would have to find new manners to recruit servants.

“Smart move, Hunter,” she extended her arm, clicking her glass on his. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

———-

Kamilah

“Morning, sleepyhead,” waking up to Amy’s voice sounded almost unreal, considering how long she had been away.

“I missed waking up like this,” Kamilah forced a smile. Although she was glad to have her fiancée back, she knew her life was in danger.

Amy placed a tray of food in front of her, containing the black, strong coffee she liked, a small vase of flowers and the usual pancakes, with a smiley face with fangs.

“Don’t give me this look. You’re already starting to think about that stuff again.”

“That stuff is a threat to your life.”

“We’ll solve it. Lysimachus is already working on it.”

“Is he?” Kamilah took a sip of the coffee.

Amy informed her about some books and articles they retrieved from the University she was attending. Kamilah could tell she was omitting parts of the story, details she knew that could possibly cause her more stress.

Whenever she started spacing out again, remember she was under Gaius sight, Amy would find a way to distract her, whether was singing or complaining about how Kamilah’s hair looked perfect even when she had just woken up. She decided to embrace it. She didn’t know what the future held for them or how much time they’d have left, so every moment from now, was precious.

“So,” she teased, “you’re finally proving you can actually cook. Those pancakes were the best I’ve had in a while. In decades, perhaps.”

“See? I told you the day I almost set the penthouse on fire was an accident.”

Pushing the tray aside, Kamilah was suddenly on top of her, planting soft kisses on her neck, while her hands cherished the softness of Amy’s skin.

“Whoa,” the girl grinned, “you still need your real breakfast, right?”

“Actually,” Kamilah remembered the last time she fed, “thinking of this kind of breakfast makes me feel sick right now.”

“I’m sorry,” Amy noticed her expression changed, “I forgot…”

“But there’s something I really want right now.”

“What is it?”

“To show you a small surprise I bought you.”

She smiled, planning to finally take Amy to the house in the Hamptons.

[mariequitecontrarie]

All of Me: Chapter 16

The Fic: Belle French is a pudgy librarian who’s in love from afar with “town monster” and ace reporter, Mr. Gold. Little does she know, he’s head-over-heels in love with her, too. Chapter Summary: Belle and Emma go shopping in Portland to prepare for a big night out with Gold and Neal at the Storybrooke Winter Gala. Emma runs into an old high school rival and shares a secret. Rating: T A/N: Guys, it’s been 84 years! Much love to @galactic-pirates and @magnoliatattoo for putting up with me. Artwork by the talented @wizzygold @a-monthly-rumbelling: “I’m not dressed for this.”

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | 

Stay with Me (bet. Ch 9&10) | Spiked Chocolate (bet. Ch 16&17) | Pieces of Me (Q&A)

ON AO3

“The quickest way to know a woman is to go shopping with her.” - Marcelene Cox

***Three weeks after Belle has moved out of her parents’ house and into Marco’ s.***

Belle picked up the telephone to call Gold at the newspaper, her day planner spread open on the desk.

Yes, it was old-fashioned, writing things down on a calendar and lugging the thick planner around in her bag, but she liked old-fashioned. She liked books, and fountain pens, and the rustle of paper—both crisply new and faded with age. Besides, she didn’t trust iPhone calendar apps.

She’d forgotten Daddy and Edith’s anniversary one too many times thanks to those finicky electronic calendars. Whenever it happened, she rushed to write a card at the last minute but instead of being grateful, Edith seemed to enjoy shaming her for “neglecting her family.” Personally, Belle felt anniversaries were about the couple celebrating each other…but her thoughts were veering way off course. If she ventured down the dark road of worrying over Edith, she could end up in bed with a box of snowball cakes for the rest of the day.

But falling into depression was less likely now that she no longer called her father and Edith’s house home. After three weeks of living with Marco, there was no denying how much better she felt; the freedom of coming and going as she pleased was a heady sensation. Sometimes Gold joined her at Marco’s house in the evening and the three of them played Scrabble together. Once, she had insisted Marco not cook dinner after cooking at the restaurant all day long and dragged him to Emma’s house for a family dinner where Henry chattered about school and his friends and made everyone laugh until their sides ached. 

But most often, Marco would come home from the restaurant and the two of them would eat a pasta and salad dinner, and then spend the evening in the comfortable quiet of his small, cozy living room. His overstuffed couch and chairs were such a contrast to the hard, slick leather furniture Edith filled her house with, and Belle loved sinking into the corner of Marco’s huge couch and covering up with a fluffy throw blanket.

Sometimes they would make small talk about their days but on most evenings, Marco would be bent over a notebook making notes for the next day’s specials at the restaurant, and she would pull out her laptop to research books to add to the library. Usually, either the Cooking Channel or HGTV played in the background. She’d had an older television in her bedroom at her parents’ but no cable connection. Marco, however, had a new flatscreen and Belle indulged in her love of watching House Hunters International, which combined two of her favorite pastimes: seeing home interiors and a peek at exotic destinations.

Gone were the days of being chased into her bedroom, hiding her diary, and hoarding snacks. Some days, the years spent in Edith and her dad’s frosty household seemed like a bad dream. 

At least twice a week, Belle offered to pay Marco rent. It didn’t seem right to eat his food and live in his space and offer nothing in return. But he refused every time she asked. “No,” he had said this morning over breakfast, flipping eggs with a stubborn twist of his lips. “We are family, Bella. La famiglia. And when life is hard, family is a soft place to land.” Her eyes had burned with grateful tears, but she kissed his cheek and ate her breakfast and let him fuss over her until they went their separate ways—he to the restaurant and her to the library.

Besides, she thought as she punched in Gold’s number, she didn’t have time for wallowing.

She needed to talk to Gold about the annual Storybrooke Winter Gala today. On impulse, Neal had bought four tickets and insisted he and Emma and Belle and Gold make a double date of the occasion. He’d even arranged for their next-door neighbor, Ana, to watch Henry.

Every December, the Mayor’s Office hosted the gala to benefit the city schools. This year, all proceeds would go toward school Arts programs—music, theatre, writing, and art workshops. Emma and Gold usually attended every year, Gold to cover the event for the Times and Emma to capture photographs to accompany the story. Belle had never been invited to the ball before, though, and she wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Part of her didn’t want to be seen in public with so many shiny glossy people she couldn’t measure up to, but another side of her was excited to play princess for an evening.

She glanced again at the date and punched in Gold’s phone number. Today was Friday, November 16th. Thanksgiving was next week, which meant the gala was only three weeks away. There wasn’t much time to get ready. Finding a dress could be difficult and she would probably need to take it to a tailor, too. The thought of shopping for formalwear made her palms begin to sweat.

“Gold,” he answered on the first ring.

“What are you wearing?” she asked in a rush, followed by a breathless pause.

He answered with a laugh, the deep, rich sound making her spine tingle. She imagined him setting down the newspaper proof he was holding to turn in his chair to peer out the window toward the library. Since her office was in the back of the building he couldn’t actually see her, but she felt the admiring burn of his eyes all the same.

She heard a rustling sound as he set down the pages. When they talked or spent time together, he always gave her his full attention. It was certainly a refreshing change from Sean distractedly glancing at her during one of his marathon video game sessions and asking her to repeat what she’d said for the third time.

“A naughty call in the middle of the workday?” Gold drawled into the phone. “Sweetheart, men dream of these sorts of calls from their girlfriends. It’s not even my birthday.”

Belle blushed. She hadn’t stopped to think how awkward the question would sound out of context, but now that it was out, she teased him right back. “Mmmm nothing naughty to say today but just wait till it is your birthday,” she said. “Now that you mention it…”

“Yes?” He drew out the word, filling it with expectation and making her giggle.

She could almost see him leaning forward across the desk, a mischievous gleam in those caramel eyes.

“When is your birthday?”

“January 14th,” he answered promptly. “And tell Marco I prefer ice cream cake.”

“You prefer every cake,” she shot back, smiling into the phone. When it came to baked goods, Gold had an enormous sweet tooth. “But I think it can be arranged.”

“That’s excellent news. Just don’t tell Marco how many candles to put on it because the thing will be melted before we have a chance to slice it.”

Belle knew he was still self-conscious about the difference in their ages. She also knew exactly how to soothe him when he worried. “Then it’s a good thing I prefer mature men.”

“Indeed,” he said, sounding pleased.

She flipped her planner forward and marked his birthday on the calendar in bold, red ink, surrounding the date with fat, bright hearts. The birthday of the man she loved was an important day—far more worth remembering than the wedding date of her stuffy stepmother and emotionally unavailable father. At least she knew Marco wouldn’t snoop through her things and read her planner or her diary. But she was digressing again.

“Now, back to my question,” she ordered, feigning sternness. 

“You have my full attention, General French.”

She laughed and rubbed the thick holiday gala invitation between her fingers. Its embossed gold lettering and sprigs of holly in metallic ink screamed expensive. Everyone knew the Storybrooke Winter Gala was the social event of the season. From the chilled seafood towers bursting with crab claws and lobster tails to the elegant champagne cocktails, no expense would be spared.

Belle fanned her warm cheeks with the cardstock, her clammy fingers leaving damp smudges at the top of the matte stationery. “The invite says formal attire, but you’re almost always formal. Were you thinking suit or tuxedo?”

 “At the moment, I’m in my usual. I did opt for the socks with the turkeys today as a nod to next Thursday.”

Belle giggled and dragged her teeth over her lower lip. His Thanksgiving socks were adorable and he was being terribly sweet in his attempts to put her at ease. She wanted to go to the gala, but she didn’t want to look like a country bumpkin who had never been anywhere. Gold had attended fancy dinners and parties all over the world. He’d been to a State Dinner with the President, for goodness sake, while Belle had never ventured beyond the Portland city limits. “You know what I mean. It’s not like we can show up in sweatpants and be all ‘sorry, I’m not dressed for this.’” Oh, how she wished.

“Sweetheart, you can wear anything you like. You’re gorgeous no matter what you have on. That said, I’m not really the proper person to offer advice on evening gown selections. Why don’t you talk to Emma?”

She sighed. “Honey, I have talked to Emma. We’re both going shopping and we both need to know. It’s not like we can ask Neal for guidance.” Exasperated, she pushed a curl off her forehead, wondering why she had to explain this. “You know what he’s like. Emma said, ‘Neal would dust corn chips off his construction clothes, zip a hoodie sweatshirt over it, and head out the door.’ That’s a direct quote, by the way.”

Gold burst out laughing. “Sounds like my boy. I’ll make sure he’s dressed appropriately.”

“Anyway,” she continued, “there’s not much of a boutique circuit here in Storybrooke and I’m not exactly a candidate for Rent the Runway.” She sucked in the inside of her cheek as soon as those last words were out. Since they’d started dating, she’d been making a concerted effort not to say self-deprecating things about herself. At least not out loud.

Gold hadn’t seemed to notice her negativity, though.

“Which would you prefer I wear? Tux or suit?”

The image of whirling on the dance floor with Gold in a sleek black tuxedo was doing crazy things to her insides. “Tux,” she said in a breathless whisper. “Tux sounds good.”

“Tux it shall be then. And Belle?”

“Yes?” She was still picturing Gold in black tie and her stomach was doing gymnastics.

“Love,  I meant what I said: you’re gorgeous no matter what you wear. We’re going to the gala so we can dance and eat shrimp cocktail and support the Arts, not so you’ll worry over competing with silly girls and stupid women who wouldn’t know true beauty if it ran over them with a sleigh.”

“I wish you and Emma and Neal were going to be the only ones there,” she murmured, feeling silly. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t known about the gala and been given every opportunity to decide against going. The event had been on the calendar for weeks, yet the closer it came the more she fretted about fitting in. An inexplicable craving for belonging tightened her chest.

Gold hummed into the phone. “This is about more than a dress, isn’t it, sweetheart?”

She closed her eyes and took a deep, slow breath, letting the weight of his understanding settle over her like a comforting mantle. Her head lolled forward until her forehead rested upon the top of her desk. The smooth, cool grain of the wood felt good against her flushed skin and she forced out another lungful of air. Gold didn’t deserve to be at the wrong end of her short fuse. She tried to tell herself she belonged at the gala because he’d invited her, but the heart didn’t always believe the head—no matter how sensible the head was being.

“It matters to me that I at least look like I belong, even if it isn’t true,” she admitted.

Gold was quiet for a long moment. “It is true, sweetheart. For as long as I draw breath, you will always have a place to belong. If Marco, Emma, Neal, and Henry were here, I know each of them would say the same. I also know it’s going to take more than hearing the words to make you believe it. You have to know the truth deep down. I love you so much, and I only hope and pray that one day you’ll see yourself the way we see you.”

Belle pressed her lips together, muffling a sob. “Thank you for understanding,” she whispered tearfully. “I love you.”

“It’s nearly five. I’m coming over to the library.” Through the phone, she heard the distinctive click of his pocket watch as he snapped it closed. “When I get there, I’m going to kiss you till you’re breathless, then take you out for a nice, quiet dinner, just the two of us. How does that sound?”

Belle smiled and wiped her tears and her worries away with a tissue from the box on her desk. “It sounds perfect.”

“So we’re here.” Emma sucked down the dregs of her iced latte in a noisy slurp and wiped her hands on her black jeans. “Portland. Boutique Row. What do we do now?” She tossed the cup in the trash can inside the door.

Like aliens on a foreign planet, they hovered inside the doorway of Posh, the largest formal boutique in the city.

Belle eyed Emma suspiciously. “I thought you said you knew about shopping.”

“Yeah, for denim and dry fit. Where to get the best doughnuts. And the occasional piece of leather. Not evening gowns.”

“But you’ve been to this gala before?” she pressed.

“Yeah, as the photographer. No one pays attention to what you’re wearing when you’re behind the camera. I got away with black pants and a dress shirt three years running.”

Belle looked her friend up and down. Perspiration was dotting Emma’s temples. Her cheeks, ruddy from the winter air outside just moments ago, were ashen. She knew that deer-in-headlights look: Emma was on the verge of an anxiety attack.

Belle ran her teeth over her lower lip, discouragement slithering around her and squeezing the air from her lungs. “Are we in trouble?”

“It’s possible,” Emma acknowledged, then shook her head hard enough to cause her ponytail to sway. “No. No! We’re two grown women. We can handle one small town formal.”

“You make it sound like war,” Belle said wryly.

“It’s worse. Other women. Rich, polished, cold as ice.” She rolled her eyes at a chic blonde dripping in Chanel and carrying a Louis Vuitton handbag bigger than Belle’s suitcase. “Maybe we should invest in suits of armor.”

“Or maybe we should eat them for supper.”

Emma snorted, their laughter breaking the tension. It was rare for Emma to be intimidated, and Belle patted her shoulder. Misery loved company, and somehow knowing she wasn’t alone in her insecurity gave her hope for more than the hunt for an evening gown. “We can do this, as long as we do it together.”

Emma’s reached for Belle’s hand and squeezed. “Right. Together is better.”

”Exactly.”

Emma gave a long, slow whistle and they moved into the store like two people tied together in a three-legged race. “Where should we start?” Belle stared at the array of gowns and began to shuffle through the racks, heading in the direction of the plus sizes. She’d come here expecting to have maybe two choices in style but after a few minutes of browsing, to her surprise, there were many gowns in her size—short and long, tight and flowing, beaded and glittery. And though she hadn’t tried on a solitary dress, she was still convinced there wasn’t one in all of Portland designed to flatter her physique. In one fell swoop, she’d gone from zero choices to too many. So many dresses, so little time, and so much Belle.

Even the eggnog lattes and cream-stuffed doughnuts she and Emma had feasted on in the car on the way here left her feeling hollow. She was at her worst at formal events—the last one she’d been to was her high school senior prom and not one person had asked her to dance. She’d gone stag simply so she didn’t have to sit in the house with her father and Edith. With the exception of going to the refreshment table to sneak brownies, she had sat in the corner the entire time.

But she wasn’t in high school any longer. She had a handsome escort in Gold and friends to spend the evening with. The steeply priced gala tickets had already been purchased and paid for and supporting the Arts in their schools? She couldn’t think of a more excellent cause. Besides, backing out three weeks before the event was paramount to announcing you had no interest in seeing Hamilton. It simply wasn’t done.

She squinted in the direction of the lingerie. Spanx were what she needed—something to suck her in and smooth her out—injected with industrial-strength elastic.

“Black. Black is the slimming choice,” Belle decided aloud, pushing through the rack toward a plain A-line silk sheath gown.

At least if she stuck to basic black, she and Gold would match. Like two penguins. One sleek and sophisticated, the other round and plump, carrying a lot of blubber around to make it through the hard, cold, South Pole winter.

“No black! Black is the safe choice,” Emma countered, smacking Belle’s hand when she reached for the hanger on another simple, nondescript black gown with clean lines.

“And that’s bad why?”

“Because it’s drab and washes you out. Go for color. Like gold.”

“Suddenly you’re a Pantone expert?” Belle winced. “A gold dress? Isn’t that a touch…cliché?”

“Alright. We’ll keep looking.”

Belle nudged Emma in the direction of a tall, willow-thin woman with striking black and grey hair and the pointiest red stilettos she’d ever seen. “Maybe we should ask someone. I think she works here.”

Emma squinted and slid more dresses down the rack. “The one with the scarf on?”

“It’s a poncho.” She knew that much.

“Wait! Wait! Try this emerald one! Gold will go crazy when he sees you in this!” Emma whipped a dazzling, jewel-toned gown with a daring thigh-high slit off the rack. Belle stared at the stunning gown then glanced back at the saleswoman. “Five minutes ago you didn’t know anything about dresses.” “You’re right, I don’t. But I know my father-in-law and he’s going to love that dress. Well, he’d love you in a life-sized paper bag, but this dress will make even Mr. Smart Ass Newspaper Dude speechless. God, I can picture him drooling already!” She thrust the dress into Belle’s arms and gave her a playful shove. “Go try it on. And remember, the only person who has to know how beautiful you are…”

“Is me,” Belle finished. They’d had this conversation often during their walks over the past few months, and Emma had reminded her yet again on the two-hour drive here. She fingered the rich velvet skirt with trembling fingers. Now she had to walk the walk. “I’ll try it. What color are you looking for?” she asked, backing into the fitting room.

“Black.” “Emma!” she whined.

Emma yanked the fitting room curtain closed with a laugh. The dress was crushed velvet with full-length sleeves, hard to find, even in the middle of a brutal Maine winter. She slid into the gown, the silk-lined velvet feeling decadent against her skin. Even without the back completely zipped, she liked the look. Emma was right, she realized, turning this way and that in the three-way mirror.

The scoop neck hugged her shoulder blades, emphasizing her thinnest feature—her shoulders—and the color made her blue eyes sparkle and skin creamy even under the garish fluorescent fitting room lights. It was a few inches too long for her 5-foot, 1-inch frame, but the skirt length was easily remedied at a tailor. Not hating it, she took a deep breath, lifted the skirt so she wouldn’t trip, and opened the curtain. She hoped Emma was nearby because she didn’t want to make a spectacle of herself. Those stupid little fitting room closets were designed to thrust you back out onto the floor where commission-hungry salespeople could tell you how good you looked and convince you to buy.

“Em,” she called out, “could you zip—” She swallowed the rest of her words. Emma was face-to-face with a dark-haired woman, and looking even more nervous than she had when they walked into the boutique. “Emma? Emma Nolan?” The stranger wore a smart navy pantsuit and a light blue silk blouse, and her blood-red lips spread in a wide smile. Everything about her, from her perfectly coifed hair to her buffed, nude pumps, screamed suave and important.

“Yeah, who’s asking?” “It’s me, Regina Mills. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten. We graduated together from Storybrooke High! I sat next to you in Mr. Walsh’s English class.” “Oh, hey.” Emma kicked the carpet with her boot, looking anything but thrilled to meet an old high school friend. “Good to see you. You remember Belle French, I’m sure. She graduated the year after us.” Regina frowned at Belle, making a small scar on her upper lip stand out. “Sorry, doesn’t ring a...bell.” “It’s fine. We didn’t really travel in the same social circles anyway,” Belle said.  Regina pouted, as if trying to decide if Belle’s remark was a put-down.

Well, she could interpret the comment however she wished. Belle didn’t care for the change that had come over Emma since Regina had appeared or the barely-veiled insult that she wasn’t worth remembering. Now that she’d had a good look at her, she remembered Regina well enough. Then again, it was hard to forget the most popular girl to ever come out of Storybrooke High School. Student body president, prom queen, and girlfriend of Daniel Colter, captain of the football team. Belle would have called her a high school cliché, except that Regina had carried her smooth, flawless reputation into adulthood. She was still the most beautiful woman Belle had ever seen close-up.  “I’m just in town for meetings today. I’m an attorney and planning to run for office next term.” Regina’s frozen smile was back in business. “I’m thinking start small with state Senate and work up from there. So, Emma, what have you been up to since graduation? I haven’t seen you since we walked across the stage.” “Um, well.” Emma shoved her hands in her pockets and looked toward the racks of dresses. “Emma is a gifted photographer,” Belle said, sliding to her friend’s side. If Emma wasn’t going to boast about her accomplishments, she sure as hell was going to do it for her. “How exciting!” Regina’s grin was wolfish, her dark eyes sparkling. “Are you exhibiting your portraits at any galleries?” “Uh…” Emma looked at the floor. “No time,” Belle put in. “Right, Em? You’re much too busy with your son, Henry and your husband, Neal.” “Oooh, a husband.” Regina’s eyes flashed again, reminding Belle of a shark circling its prey. “Is he a doctor?” “Nope.” “Hmmm.” She tapped a red nail against her jaw. “A lawyer then?” “He’s in construction,” Emma said, looking to Belle for help. “For your information, he runs his own construction company. He’s built most of Storybrooke’s new buildings in the last ten years.” Belle glared at Regina, daring her to make another cutting remark. “So he’s a working man,” she said, managing to make the term sound neither positive nor negative. “Yeah. Yeah. He’s great.” Emma’s laugh was feeble and she ducked her head.  Regina clapped her hands. “This has been fun, catching up. We should do this again sometime.” She flashed another gorgeous, winning smile, and moved in the direction of the lingerie. “Best of luck on the campaign trail,” Belle called after her. Waiting until Regina was out of earshot, Belle whirled on Emma. “Excuse me, but what the hell was that?”

“Never mind. We have shopping to do.” Emma cleared her throat and tried to slide past her, but Belle held her ground.

“The shopping can wait. Who died and crowned Regina Mills queen?”

Belle had zero patience for people who clambered for social standing and pronounced themselves better than others. Having been so often on the receiving end of other people’s sarcasm, Belle rarely talked down to people. But standing up to bullies didn’t count. Something about watching Emma cower in front of Regina caused an angry fire to blaze in her belly. Maybe she was lousy at defending herself, but she’d be damned if she’d let anyone walk all over her friend. Emma shrugged and studied the dresses. She was pretending not to care about the awkward encounter, but Belle knew better. “I don’t like small talk. ‘Hi. How are you?’ she parroted. ‘Oh, I’m fine, how are you?’ News flash: nobody’s fine.”

“Em…”

“No matter how she makes it sound, Regina and I weren’t friends in high school, we were competitors.” She rolled her eyes. “She reminisces about Mr. Walsh’s English class like that was the only time we saw each other. I guess she forgot about the four years we spent one-upping each other on the cheerleading squad, softball team, and the debate team. Always trying to be smarter, stronger, and skinnier than the other. We were out for blood.”

“Then why are you letting her get under your skin?”

Emma sighed and pulled on her ponytail. “You know Cora Mills?”

“Cora Mills, the mayor? Of course.” Belle suppressed a shudder.

Regina’s mother, Cora, had been mayor of Storybrooke for as long as Belle could remember. Cora was a cold, calculating woman, but what she lacked in lovable qualities, she made up for in efficiency. She ran Storybrooke like a machine and no one could argue with her methods, not even Gold, who was paid to search out everything. From the few times Belle had met her, she realized Cora wasn’t mean so much as devoid of emotion.  Beyond a perfunctory review of the library budget once a year, Belle was fortunate to rarely communicate with the Mayor’s Office and even when she did, it was strictly emails between Belle and Cora’s assistant. The library and its services were beneath Cora’s notice; so long as Belle didn’t ask for too much money, she stayed under her radar—which was exactly the way she liked it.

Emma wandered to a bench next to the row of fitting rooms and plopped down. “My mom always wanted to be like her, you know.”

“Really?” Belle would never have expected sweet, kind Mary Margaret Nolan to want to emulate Cora Mills.

Emma smirked. “Once, a long time ago, Mom even tried bidding against her for Mayor but she was too nice. She was laughed out of the first debate, and it’s a good thing because the town would have walked all over her. Since Mom couldn’t be like Cora, she decided the next best thing would be for me to be like Cora’s daughter, Regina. I spent every day of high school trying to beat Regina for one reason: because my mom couldn’t beat hers.”

“Wow,” Belle said. “I would never have known. Your mom is such a great teacher and your parents are like a fairytale marriage. Talk about relationship goals.”

“Exactly. The thing with my mom is she’s incredible just as she is,” she said. “Former prom queen, straight-A student, a born teacher. She’s smart and pretty and married to the perfect, charming husband. And she loves Storybrooke—but not for me.”

“But your parents live in Storybrooke.” Confused, Belle furrowed her brow. “That seems like a bit of a double-standard.”

“Yeah.” Emma shook her head. “’Why do you want to take pictures of engaged couples and local pet adoptions?’ she said, mimicking her mother’s innocent tone. “She would rather I was out on the front lines of some war documenting the dying.” “Like Gold used to?” Belle nodded in sympathy and claimed the empty side of the bench. She knew all too well the feeling of being expected to be someone you couldn’t be and dashing parental hopes in the process. “She feels like you shouldn’t be satisfied with a simple life.” “Bingo! And she resents the hell out of Gold for telling me what it’s really like out there. I think that’s why I’m closer to him now than I am my own parents. He understands weakness and failure in a way I don’t think they can. I’m not some conceited little bitch who’s hiding in the bathroom to throw up everything she eats to fit in anymore, but sometimes that really sucks, you know?”

“Yeah, I do.” Belle’s heart clenched in sympathy. Sometimes she still got sucked into the vortex of her own self-pity and forgot that everyone—even gorgeous, wonderful Emma—was fighting a battle. Trying to be yourself was hard work. It was so much easier to toe the line of people’s expectations, to do and say what made others feel comfortable and safe. “So there’s Regina, first conquering the state of Maine, then the world.” Emma put her head in her hands. “And here I am...not running for a spot even on the PTO. Married with a kid and pregnant again.” “You’re pregnant?” Belle slung an arm around Emma and dragged her against her side in an awkward hug. “Oh, sweetie, that’s amazing!” “Ya think? Emma sniffled but looked hopeful for the first time since they had entered the boutique. “Really? I wasn’t expecting another baby. It just happened.”

“Henry is going to be a big brother!” Belle squealed, excited enough for both of them. “Does your mom know yet?”

“Are you kidding?” “What did Neal say?”

Emma shook her head and touched her belly. “You’re the first soul I’ve told.”

“Me?” Belle crowded closer to Emma and drew her head down on her shoulder. She smoothed Emma’s hair back from her temples, soothing her the way her mother used to when she was little while she tried to process the news. To think she was the first to know about the new addition coming to the Cassidy household. She hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t think I’ve ever been first in someone else’s confidence. At least not...well there’s Gold, of course.” She felt Emma nod against her shoulder. “I know what you mean. I’ve had friends. Acquaintances. Then when I met Neal he satisfied any need I had for friends. He’s a great husband and I love him to pieces, but it’s not like this. Like us. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, Belle.”

“Me too,” she said, tears scalding her eyes. She’d known it was true—had felt the stirrings of their bond deep in her spirit ever since their first real conversation at Henry’s birthday clambake. Between family dinners, walks, and girls nights out, the invisible force between them only grown stronger. Somehow acknowledging their friendship out loud made it seem more solid. Precious. As important to her as her love for Gold, but in a different way.

“Now stand up,” Emma said, fishing into her pocket for a crumpled tissue. “I wanna see this dress!”

Belle shot to her feet and smoothed the skirt, her fingers fluttering around the waist and hips while Emma zipped up the back.

“I love it,” she said, motioning for Belle to twirl around.

“Really? You don’t think it makes me look like a medieval strumpet?”

“Hell no!” Emma whistled as Belle turned around again. “You’re stunning. All we need now are Spanx and shoes. And maybe some lingerie for the after-party?” She wiggled her eyebrows.

“Maybe.” Belle’s face flamed at the thought of wearing a negligee for Gold. “What about you?”

“We’ll get to me after lunch.” She patted her still-flat tummy. “There’s a place down the street serving yummy cheese-covered waffle fries and this kid wants some now.”

Belle’s stomach growled in answer. “Lead the way.”

Their waiter was clearing the lunch plates at the café when Belle heard a knock on the window. She did a double-take as her father waved through the glass with a sheepish smile. Her turkey club sandwich, which had tasted so delicious a few minutes ago, now lodged in her stomach. What was he doing here in the city?

“I’ll grab the check, Belle. You go talk to him,” Emma urged. “If I see things are getting bad I’ll come outside and rescue you.”

Nodding, she gathered her coat and made her way outside, wondering what would bring her father looking for her in Portland of all places, when she hadn’t seen him once on the streets of Storybrooke in the three weeks since she’d moved out.

The air was frigid even in the sunshine, and she seemed to grow colder with every step she took toward her father.

“Daddy?” She wrapped her arms around herself to keep from reaching for a hug. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s the Portland flower show.” He brushed a bit of pollen off the sleeve of his coat. “I was in the neighborhood and saw you having lunch in the window.” “Ah.” Her dad attended the vendor-focused flower exhibition every year. She should have prepared for the possibility of running into him in town, but she’d completely forgotten it was this weekend.

“We haven’t heard from you in weeks, darling. Edith was devastated when you collected your things and left us.”

Belle gave a noncommittal grunt and thrust her cold hands in her pockets. Edith was devastated? Perish the thought her own father actually missed her.

“Marco treating you well?”  he asked gruffly.

“Like family,” she retorted, her voice carrying a sharpness she hadn’t intended.

Her father’s face paled and she instantly regretted her tone. There was no call to be so mean-spirited, especially when it somehow succeeded in making her feel worse instead of better.

He sniffed. “Will we see you for Thanksgiving?“

Belle looked into the clear blue sky, distancing herself from his hopeful gaze. "Marco’s cooking a huge feast, so I’ll be eating with him and Gold and the Cassidys.“

“Christmas?“

She blew out an exasperated breath and hugged herself again. “Let’s push through one nightmare holiday at a time, okay?“

He huffed. “I didn’t realize things had gotten so bad.”

“Are we still talking about holidays, or are you referring to other bad situations?” She thought back to the horrible family dinner she’d put Gold through when she’d tossed a roll at Edith’s head and stormed out. “I can’t live like that anymore. I won’t.”

“You’ve changed, Belle. Is this…is this Gold’s influence on you, then?” He seemed to deflate before her eyes, this giant of a man shriveling down to a pathetic shell. “When did you become this way? So stubborn. So willful.” His lips shook as he spoke. “If your mother were alive, she…”

“But she’s not, Daddy,” Belle interrupted. “Mother hasn’t been with us for years. She’s not here to tell you what to do and what to say, and for that matter neither is Edith. You’re the one who changed. It’s as Erskine said, you don’t even see me. Maybe you never did.”

“Belle!” Emma jogged over to the rescue, her breath a white cloud in the cold afternoon air. “Hey, Mister French. We really gotta get going if we’re going to finish shopping and I promised Henry I’d be home in time to tuck him in.”

“Great. I’m freezing anyway.” She looped her arm through Emma’s and mustered a sad, parting smile for her father. After years of trying to gain his attention and approval, she wasn’t sure when she would see him again and at the moment, she didn’t care. “Take care of yourself, Dad.”

###

[wri0thesley]

Surprise (Bruno)

Bruno Buccellati has done a lot for Passione, and this year on his birthday, you just all want to thank him. [SFW, neutral reader]

this is late its 2am here and further past that in Italy but HAPPY BIRTHDAY ZIPPER MAN I DIDN’T WRITE ANYTHING NAUGHTY THIS YEAR! this piece can be considered a sequel to this VERY NSFW piece, but it’s not needed to understand what’s going on here or anything!

Bruno doesn’t like a fuss. The first year you’d been together, Giorno had had to tell you it was his birthday so that you’d make the man take some time off of his work and relax; and you had had a very relaxing time together indeed (your face flushes at the memory). He’s not the kind who thinks of himself at all; it’s not even that he puts other people in front of him, but that his own being doesn’t cross his mind to begin with.

This year, though, Giorno intends things to be very different. Apparently he’d expected Bruno to resist your attempts to get him to stay at home and unwind with you; and now that he’d discovered that Bruno could indulge himself if the proper incentives were offered, Giorno intends to make sure that everybody in Passione who owes Bruno a debt of gratitude gets a chance to say thank you to him. On his birthday.

You’d be a little perturbed this time was being taken from you if the Don hadn’t looked so earnest about enlisting your help to plan a surprise party.

Giorno Giovanna isn’t the kind of man who comes to mind when you think of surprise parties. He’s rather more sophisticated than that; if a cardboard tube of a party hat has ever adorned those golden curls, you’d be surprised; if he’s ever had a hideously sugary fondant sandwich cake and taken home a party bag filled with tat. He’s the kind who looks like he came out of the womb sipping wine and demanding Versace; there are whispers among Passione, of who exactly he came from, but you do not pay mind to rumours.

Rumours say some very nasty things about you and sleeping your way to the top and your position at Buccellati’s side, none of which are true. Whether Giorno Giovanna’s father was a vampire, or a cult leader, or whether he was abandoned by those he needed and gave his mother a million Euros to never contact him again - those are unimportant. Giorno Giovanna’s family is the inner circle of Passione that he surrounds himself with, and you and Buccellati are both counted among that number. So you have learnt to deflect, with smiles and kind words, and make a note of who it is whispering about Bruno’s lover so that Bruno knows exactly what kind of person he’d be promoting if the chance came up.

If Giorno came from nothing, it doesn’t matter. If he came from everything, it doesn’t matter.

“I just want to show Buccellati how much we appreciate him,” Giorno says, and his voice is sincere; everything Giorno says seems terribly well thought out, but you have never heard him sound so imploring. “Fugo says he never let them celebrate his birthday even when they were running burn jobs and had all the time in the world and much less of the pressure. Bruno’s been a member of Passione since before he was a teenager--”

“Alright,” you’d said, smiling, secretly thrilled that the Don was relying on you for something - and, honestly, thrilled at the idea of being able to surprise Bruno. Bruno does things for you with regularity; he brings back sweet things he know you’ll like from the local bakery, picks up knickknacks and trinkets and anything he thinks you’ll like, buys tickets to operas and movies because you’ve mentioned them in passing, remembers everything he’s told you despite how much pressure he puts on his own shoulders. You want to pay him back as much as they do.

“Wonderful,” Giorno says, beaming.

You did not know what you were signing up for, really.

Giorno runs the idea of Bruno Buccellati’s surprise party as a military operation; it’s hardly surprising, when you consider what his line of work in, but it’s startling to see the man you’re used to taking orders on who to murder pop up with intensity in his eyes as he asks you if you know what Bruno’s favourite flavour of cake is. It takes you a minute, wide-eyed and fumbling, and you feel more than a little silly telling him that Bruno likes vanilla best; he’s not a man of excess in any way, really.

Eventually, all roles are meted out. Narancia is in charge of getting food, with Abbacchio beside him to make sure that he doesn’t eat it all before it gets back (Bruno is in charge of so much of Passione’s paperwork, he’d notice the orders for his favourite bakeries and he really is very clever; Giorno had thought it best). Fugo, whose (despite his terrible fashion sense) aesthetics are a little more refined than some of the other options, is in charge of decorating. Giorno has bought lavish gift upon lavish gift. Mista has been beside Giorno the whole time, distrustful as event halls are booked out and musicians are spoken to and invitations have been extended (in the end, it’s become rather a private gathering - the upper echelons of Passione, and one more). Polnareff has been fabricating fake emails, sending Bruno on various goose chases of response because they share the consigliere’s responsibilities, but one of them is much more capable of running about and solving problems and it is not the one confined to a turtle. Trish is flying in to be there, has organized getting a copy of her new album well before the release date to play (Bruno might not like her music’s style very much, but he is very much a proud and doting older brother of her success and will love hearing it all the same).

And you have been left with the most important job of all. Making sure Bruno gets to the party.

*

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” you say, voice soft, hands gentle as you shake your boyfriend’s shoulder. His blue eyes blink open slowly; even in sleep, he’s handsome enough for your breath to stop. His lips are full and lush, eyes still dark from his dreams, hair mussed around a lovely face with perfect cheekbones - pyjama shirt (polka dotted, naturally) half unbuttoned to reveal a lean chest in a way that makes you wish you could spend all day in bed with him. “We’ve got work to do today.”

“Amore?” He says, voice lazy. “Do we?”

“Lots,” you affirm, pretending you don’t see the brief flash of hurt that goes across those eyes. This is only your second birthday of his with Buccellati, and he hasn’t mentioned it in the lead up beyond a vague statement that he’d cancelled the meeting he had on the twenty seventh followed by a lazy smile as he looked at you. You’d already been well in the swing of party planning, then, and you couldn’t let him know - so you’d nodded, and changed the subject.

If he has to think that you’ve forgotten his birthday so that Giorno’s plan works--

Well. The hurt in his gaze is painful to bear, but you hope it will be worth it. You lean over and kiss his forehead, hair still a mess, and a smile splits his mouth despite itself. He won’t hold it against you, thinking you’ve forgotten - but you can hardly bear it, when Bruno deserves the entire world handed to him on a silver platter.

“What’s first on the agenda, then?” He asks. He thinks he is a good actor, and he is when it counts (in missions, when the two of you are playing up to the enemy) - but he is not so talented with his emotions. There’s the lightest wobble to his voice and your heart seizes and you almost give up the plan then and there; the only thing that stops you is the reminder that Giorno has been working so hard, and it is not a wise idea to cross the boss of the Naples mafia. Or, indeed, your boss; it is not a good idea to get yourself on his wrong side when this whole idea of giving Bruno what he deserves has been such a passion project.

You and Polnareff have discussed this; your alibi for Bruno’s surprise party. A fancy mission that you’re supposed to be running (an excuse to get all dolled up without arousing too much suspicion) to be taking place at an expensive hotel (the owners owe Giorno enough favours to ensure Passione has the run of the entire place). Mista is supposed to be there to scout out for you both; Bruno will call him later, and he’ll pretend that everything is fine, but the target you’re trailing got here a little bit too early and perhaps you two should similarly accelerate your entrance.

It’s not a high profile target. Nobody had wanted to use a fake with too much riding on their defeat; so it’s a petty little mission, really, if it were true, and you almost feel guilty that Bruno is ‘missing’ his birthday for it. As you remind Bruno of the particulars, he nods, his face lovely and serious, and then he smiles a little sadly.

“Wear the black outfit with the white lace, won’t you? That one’s my favourite.”

You look like polar opposites next to each other in that one, and Bruno knows it; he loves you matching without really matching, and he has an eye for fashion despite humble beginnings. So you blow him a kiss as you go to change and to do all of the other things you need to (you want to look perfect for Bruno), and as you head into the bathroom you grab your phone and make a few last minute calls.

Narancia has so far been stopped from eating any of the cake, but Abbacchio thinks he’s going to run for it any minute. Giorno and Mista had to make two journeys to the hotel with all of the presents that Buccellati has been bought. Fugo has gone through Narancia’s tracklist, too, and removed lots of rap music with copious references to drugs because although Narancia does not understand all of the words, Bruno definitely will.

It’s all the usual chaos you’d expected; bits and pieces falling into place and bickering in the background. Trish is laughing on the phone to you; you’re still a touch intimidated by her, but she sees it as you being Buccellati’s partner makes you part of her family too, and you can’t help but enjoy it. It’s nice, to be liked.

You gingerly touch your own present for Bruno, where it’s nestling in a gift box in the little clutch bag you’re taking tonight. It’s not much; certainly, even on a gangster’s salary, you can’t afford the same things that Giorno can - but it had reminded you of him, and you hope that he likes the little golden clips - so similar to the ones he already wears, but dotted with tiny black and white stones. You don’t think they’re diamonds - for that price, they’d have been a steal - but you hope he likes them all the same.

You emerge out, later on, ready to go - present securely in your bag, outfit adjusted. Party horn tucked in the one pocket you currently have.

“You look beautiful,” Bruno says, voice sincere, and you can’t help the flush that comes on your cheeks - next to him, you’re nothing, but he always knows how to get you feeling embarrassed and pleased all at once. “I wish we didn’t have to go out today. I wish we could stay in and do something more fun--”

His tone is meaningful, and it’s almost painful to ignore it as you blink at him innocently.

“Bruno Buccellati?” You ask him. “Wanting to skive off his work? What have you done with the real Bruno?”

His smile is sad as he offers you his arm and you begin the walk out of your shared home; you hope by the end of the night, the smile on his face will be somewhat more cheerful.

~

Bruno doesn’t often show much emotion beyond intense concentration and slight smiles, but the look on his face as he opens the door, intending to find a fancy gathering of the rich and slink towards the wine table, is clear shock. It’s almost comical, the way his mouth falls open - and then, he turns to you, tone almost accusing, and says;

“I thought you’d forgotten! I was all set to be broken-hearted, amore!”

“I’d never have forgotten!” You tell him, moving towards him and placing a hand on his arm. He looks around the beautifully decorated room (Fugo did do a good job, after all), eyes skimming the pile of presents, the cake, his friends and his ragtag found family all surrounding him with shouts of ‘buon compleanno!’, hands touching his arms and smiling. He looks beautifully, radiantly happy.

“I’’ve never had a birthday party,” he confesses, and Giorno - charming, finally getting to take over his duties as host, steps forward.

“You deserve one,” he says, simply. “I’m glad we could give you what you deserved. Come. See what we’ve been working on.”

You don’t mind that Bruno is being monopolised; at the end of the night, you’ll get home and curl into bed beside him with your head on his chest. Giorno worked so hard during all of this; buying presents, bullying people into helping, securing places to stay and making sure everyone moved like a well-oiled machine--

If he wasn’t already in the organised crime business, he’d do a racket as a party planner.

Bruno allows himself to be lead around. He allows Narancia the first slice of cake, Abbacchio to finally remove the ridiculous party hat (his is the most garish and ugly of all, complete with resplendent pompom; you think Giorno had something to do with it), gushes to Trish about her new album as it plays behind them. He throws out compliments, all of which feel earned and well-deserved (Buccellati does not speak praise lightly).

He opens all of the presents, marvelling over them, gushing - some of them you know he’ll hate and never use, but he’ll have on display in the house anyway because Narancia said it made the younger boy think of his Capo.

You do feel a little worried by the time that Bruno is back at your side, flagging a little, eyes tired. You cannot compare with the Versace and the Gucci and the expensive wines with names you can’t pronounce. But as you pull him into a private alcove to give him your gift, Bruno’s eyes and mouth soften as he looks down at the box.

“I’m glad you didn’t forget,” he admits. “Having you remember last year was . . . nice. I forgot how nice it could be.”

“You have me every moment of every day,” you tell him, watching his long, clever fingers make quick work of the ribbon. As he nudges the box open and his eyes sweep over the new clips, his smile widens.

“I love them,” he breathes, and you feel a worry you hadn’t realized you were dwelling on fade away from you. “I’ll think of you every time I wear them, amore.”

You reach up a hand, cupping his cheek, and his smile does not falter a watt as he looks at you. Being looked at like this by Bruno always makes you feel like the sun has decided to shine on only you; he has that effect. You want to please him. You want him to love you as much as you love him. You want to spend the rest of your life with him.

“Happy birthday, Bruno,” you say, soft. “I hope we’ll have many more together.”

[shrunkyclunksbigbang-blog]

(i’ll leave my love) Between the Stars by Chicklette ART BY: Bear_shark

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(You’re) The Magic In My Soul by CaliHart & cettevieestbien ART BY: Mypissedoffsandwich

A year after the Battle, Steve still finds himself adrift in the future. It isn’t easy connecting to his teammates, who do their best to crack his shell. During a night out he meets Bucky, who claims to be a friendly witch, as well as Steve’s soulmate. It takes some time for Steve to get used to the fact that magic exists, and that Bucky’s family is brimming with it.

One day Bucky and Steve find a dragon egg in the park. Unsettled, Bucky tells Steve not to touch it when they take it home–unable to resist, the egg hatches into a small, sun-colored dragon right in his hands. Now in the possession of an illegal baby dragon, they turn to Bucky’s grandma, who apparently has a whole life outside of family and the family’s magic shop. They soon discover that dragon eggs are being smuggled in the black market. It takes more than Steve expected to save the day.

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The Sokovian Accords were created right after the Battle of New York. It’s 2017, and the Avengers are stuck under the UN’s thumb. Captain Steve Rogers is mostly retired and doesn’t protest when Tony drags him out to a movie premiere. Out on the red carpet, he bumps into Oscar-nominated actor James Barnes and falls so hard that Tumblr and Twitter won’t stop shipping them.

It’s 2017, and the Winter Soldier can’t stand idly by while his city falls into ruins from the rampant crime, the Avengers made practically useless. He just doesn’t expect to run into Nomad in a back alley.

Or, a two-dimensional love story told in three parts. TUMBLR MASTERPOST

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Steve meets and gets to know one of the chefs at Stark Tower. They’re pretty sure they’re perfect for each other, until a secret from the past comes to light. They have to figure out what’s true, what isn’t, and what matters to each of them. It’s not easy, but then, it wouldn’t be love if it was. TUMBLR MASTERPOST

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All Steve wanted was to take a breather, decompress after a mission and go out for a jog in the rain. He wasn’t expecting to hide out in a bookstore filled with new and used books or that the employee that worked there thought he was an absolute loser and didn’t even realize he was insulting Captain America. TUMBLR MASTERPOST

Call For a Good Time by Mypissedoffsandwich ART BY: Drowningbydegrees & Tyranttirade

Tony had probably been joking when he’d passed Steve the business card for a Phone Sex line. But Dammit, Steve was lonely and his neighbor had been driving him crazy for months.

Captain Cosplay by Ignisentis ART BY: alby_mangroves

James Barnes loves to cosplay as Captain America, and not just because he’s damn good at it, either. No, it’s the feeling he gets when he puts on the suit, the light in people’s eyes when they see him, the thrill of getting the details just right. It also helped him feel connected to New York after he moved back there for work. Well, cosplay and his landlord,Clint. So when Bucky gets an invitation to his dream cosplay event, hosted by none other than Tony Stark and judged by the Avengers themselves, he knows he has to pull out all the stops and make a new Cap cosplay: the elusive Stealth Suit. Clint turns out to be surprisingly resourceful in that endeavor, and Bucky’s more than pleased with how his cosplay turns out. As the day of the event dawns, he can only hope that Steve Rogers feels the same way. TUMBLR MASTERPOST

Continuing Education by romanticalgirl ART BY: 743ish

Steve is invited to be a guest lecturer on the WWII unit for Bucky’s college course. Bucky’s more than happy to glean any extra knowledge (in more than just history) from Steve, and Steve’s happy to educate him. But then Bucky has to decide if he can handle the fact that Steve throws himself into danger, and if the sex is worth it. Or if it’s not just sex anymore. TUMBLR MASTERPOST

don’t quote the Wikipedia page by PolzkaDotz

Bucky Barnes is Steve Rogers’ (most commonly known as Nomad) boyfriend, but sometimes he kind of wishes he just… wasn’t.

Or

Bucky and Steve can see ghosts, one of the ghosts is a fan of Bucky, mischief happens and Bucky fucks it up royally for the entire world to see. Typical.

Great morning in the neighborhood by capsiclemycaptain

FANART

Hey, Asshole! A New York City Love story by bunnymaccool

Bucky’s running late for the bus and he’s stuck in line behind some ridiculous shoulder to waist ratio bastard who’s too busy flirting with the baristas to get his frickin’ order in. After he tells the dude off, completely in his rights he feels, the damn oversized puppy-faced ass keeps following him around and trying to apologize. And okay, dude is hot like burnin’, but Bucky just doesn’t have the time or patience for soothing the wounded ego of some gymrat wannabe with an obsession for dressing like he’s hiding from the mob and …. why are you laughing, Sam? TUMBLR MASTERPOST

It’s a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood by deepspaceprincess ART BY: esaael

When Steve moves in next door to Bucky and his family, it throws Bucky’s comfortable reality for a loop. Steve shakes up Bucky’s belief that he needs to dedicate his life to his family and Bucky’s family seems to think that’s good for him. As much as Bucky fights back against the pull he feels to Steve, he can’t win when his family is doing their best to push them together. TUMBLR MASTERPOST

It grew on me by Bear_shark ART BY: esaael

Steve Rogers isn’t good at taking care of himself. So when Tony and Natasha strong arm him into going to a fancy hair salon, he’s not expecting to like it. Enter barber Bucky Barnes. Soon Steve is trying different hairstyles and growing out a beard, anything to get Bucky’s hands on him a little more. Unfortunately, on the path to true love, sometimes fate (and Hydra) has other plans. TUMBLR MASTERPOST

Just Dropkick The Shame by rohkeutta ART BY: Missprintrash

List of Stuff Bucky Shall Never Do: 1. Give up spider solitaire 2. Tweet TMI shit to celebrities 3. Get a fucking raise, it seems 4. Sleep with a coworker He HAS tweeted TMI shit about celebrities, but he also has some common sense and knows that some people actually read their replies, so he a) posts only on his private account and b) never tags. Bucky’s pretty sure that he’s not the only person to have drunk tweeted about Captain America’s daddy level, but at least he doesn’t fucking call Steve Rogers ‘daddy’ to his face. Until he kind of does, and breaks his fourth rule in the process.

Life of the Party by AggressiveWhenStartled

“You know, kids,” Steve heard from the backyard, “one of the most common threats a superhero has to face is inside an active volcano! We’re going to have to work on your evasion skills, so for the next five minutes, the floor is lava!” This was met by a sudden spike in both volume and pitch from the small children as they scrambled onto every raised surface they could find and immediately launched themselves right back off.

“I’ve never seen actual lava in my entire life,” Steve said, vaguely offended.

“You got a superhero impersonator for The Falcon’s niece’s birthday party,” Sam said, incredulous. “The Falcon, who is an actual superhero.”

Memories Turn Into Daydreams by StarSpangledBucky

When Bucky heard the rumours about Captain America, he took a risk. The dating profile had his name, his picture, even the bio was accurate. But with the amount of times Bucky had been catfished, he wasn’t sure. That is until on the day of the meeting, Steve Rogers himself comes into his life. It becomes as bittersweet as every love story should be… TUMBLR MASTERPOST

Movie Barnes by SMDarling

While catching up on 21st Century pop culture, Steve hears about Blockbuster but misses the memo that it no longer exists. When he goes looking, he finds a video rental store run by Bucky Barnes, back from war missing an arm, with PTSD from his time as a POW, and unwilling to accept how much the world moved on without him. He used his combat pay to buy up an old Blockbuster building, full of old VHS rentals, moved in upstairs, and now “runs” a not-very-popular business, supplemented by his VA benefits and repairing electronics (specializing in VHS players). It’s a quiet life for Bucky, with only his movies to keep him company, until Steve shows up, confused and just as lost in the 21st Century as Bucky once felt. Bucky agrees to show Steve what he missed, and somewhere along the way, Steve returns the favor. TUMBLR MASTERPOST

No Rest by Luckybuckyboy ART BY: Mypissedoffsandwich

Steve is pulled from the ice, angry and tired and wishing he was dead. He is sent to the Retreat with Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. James Barnes to recover. Steve doesn’t want to be there in the cabin and also in the future, but the more he gets to know James, the more he’s not sure he wants to leave.

old situations (new complications) by ChibiSquirt ART BY: Drowningbydegrees

A soulmate AU where your soulmark is the first thing your soulmate thinks when they meet you. Bucky is a normal, Level Six SHIELD agent who stumbles into a time machine while on a mission. When he travels back sixty-four years and lands ass-up on the wartime desk of one Agent Carter, his soulmark—“Who’s that with Peggy?”—goes from fairly distinctive, as thoughts go, to maddeningly common.

The Weight We Carry by Queerily_kai

Bucky agreed to go to the PTSD support group at the VA, but he never agreed to stand up and talk. Things start to change the day Steve talks to him.

What’s The Sitch? by urbanconstellations

“A day where Bucky Barnes wasn’t thrown into some kind of insane, life threatening situation was an unusual one. He’d gotten used to the constant rush of adrenaline in his ears, and the way his focus sharpened in line with his goal. This wasn’t normal for someone in his line of work, but he couldn’t quite seem to break the habit.” Bucky Barnes is a war veteran/perpetually exhausted nurse who happens to think Doctor Steven Carter is super duper hot. Bucky Barnes is also in the habit of heroically running into burning buildings to help people. He can’t really help it at this point. When Bucky runs into Captain America himself for the first time, he has no idea how close the guy might really be. Steve Rogers wants nothing more than to have life that’s as normal as possible, and maybe get up the nerve to ask that cute nurse, Bucky out. He’s finally using his medical degree for something, as well as stopping the occasional terrorist when SHIELD asks. He’s changed his name and always wears the cowl when fighting, but a certain nurse might ruin the whole cover. TUMBLR MASTERPOST

Where All Roads Lead by DrowningByDegrees ART BY: alby_mangroves

When Steve Rogers inadvertently touches a relic in the course of a mission gone sideways during WWII, he’s catapulted seventy years into the future. Before he’s even sure where he’s ended up, his search for help puts him in contact with Bucky Barnes, a historian and college professor who has built a career around studying Captain America. With Bucky’s help, Steve means to find out how exactly he ended up in 2017, and solve the bigger mystery of how to get home. There’s just one problem. The closer they get to their goal, the less certain Steve is that he wants to go home. TUMBLR MASTERPOST

Opportunity Cost by detour ART BY: ChibiSquirt

It’s hard for killers to start over. But Buck comes to New York with a new name, a new identity, and and plans to discover who he is. It should be easy to be Buck the average worker, meeting this guy Steve to talk about baseball, even if it doesn’t feel like it’s enough. Between the secrets and the ghosts from his past following him around the city, it’s bound to get messy. TUMBLR MASTERPOST

The Passionate Gardener by velvetjinx ART BY: esaael

Bucky is feeling burned out by a string of unsuccessful dates, and would much rather just spend his time among his plants. Enter one mysterious red headed customer who wants to set Bucky up with her friend. Little does he know that his agreement will lead to an encounter with… the world’s least likely Angry Birds enthusiast? TUMBLR MASTERPOST

The Purrfect Brew by Florianna ART BY: Queerily_kai

Meet Bucky Barnes, reluctant owner of the café Purrfect Brew, in Brooklyn, where clients can get their fills of books, coffee and cats who are too smart for their own good. His life is quiet and that’s the way he likes it, until aliens hit Manhattan. Steve Rogers, aka Captain America, has been in the 21rst century for two weeks when aliens hit Manhattan. He’s not sure what to do with himself afterwards and is half considering the offer to work with SHIELD. Bruce, recognizing a lost soul, drags him to his favourite quiet place, the Purrfect Brew. Steve, being intrigued by the quiet barista and his sisters, come back often by himself, determined to learn more about the Barnes family, mostly Bucky. And when the past comes back, somehow it’s still not as bad as it could have been.

The Rainbow by anice_1 ART BY: Brooklyn-bisexual

Bucky Barnes’ job as a nurse on the children’s ward is demanding, but he loves it. What he’s not so fond of? Obnoxious celebriities trying to use sick children to boost their own public image. So naturally Bucky isn’t exactly thrilled when Captain America himself, camera team in tow, is announced for a visit to the hospital. Maybe though, just maybe, not all celebrities are self-centered assholes after all? TUMBLR MASTERPOST

Relationship Goals: Have a Relationship by cleo4u2, xantissa ART BY: Fannishlove

When Bucky gets a message from an unknown number, he never expects it to lead him on an exciting journey filled with naked pics, hot sexting and surprise flights over Manhattan with Iron Man himself.

The Roommate by Niitza ART BY: layersofsilence

In which Steven G. Rogers, a.k.a. Captain America, gets a roommate. Who rapidly turns into his “roommate"—in the euphemistic sense of the word. It takes SHIELD and the rest of the Avengers an absurd amount of time to notice. TUMBLR MASTERPOST

Salt by littleblackfox ART BY: Chibisquirt

The cinnamon roll is gone in four bites. Four indecent, jaw-unhinging bites, and Steve sucks the last traces of lemon and icing from his fingers with a low, throaty sound of satisfaction. He glances up at Bucky, who is leaning against the counter and watching him with avid fascination. “Um…” Steve says around his index finger. There’s still a little icing on the bed of his fingernail, and he stops trying to work it off with his tongue. “You know those movies where the girl eats an eclair or something, and it’s really, like, sexually charged?” Bucky asks. Steve pulls his finger out of his mouth. He’s never seen that kind of movie, but the thought of Bucky eating an eclair is certainly… well, it lingers. “Uh?” “Yeah, well that was the exact opposite.” Steve scowls, and Bucky cackles gleefully. “You are something else, Steve.”

say you’ll bee mine by deceptivesoldier, obsessivereader, talkplaylove

When Steve glances over at Hot Guy again, Hot Guy catches his eye and gives him a tentative smile. Steve’s brain shuts down and he looks away. But the serum gave him great vision, so out of the corner of his eye, he sees Hot Guy stand up, take two steps, get his foot caught in a backpack strap, trip, and fall down. Steve’s out of his chair and next to Hot Guy before he even has time to think. “Oh my God, Hot Guy! Are you okay?” His hearing is sensitive enough to pick out Sam’s whispered “Did you just call Hot Guy ‘Hot Guy’?” at the same time as he realizes what he just said. Hot Guy blinks up at him from the floor, probably too confused to stand up. “Did you just call me ‘Hot Guy’?” TUMBLR MASTERPOST

Shared Life Experience by assemblingbrokenmemories ART BY: DrowningByDegrees

When Principal Morita offers Bucky the chance of having Captain America come into his classroom as a guest, he is over the moon. As a history teacher and an enthusiast when it comes to the story of the national icon, it was a dream come true. What he didn’t expect was the ridiculous PSAs, inappropriate laughter, and the burgeoning chance at something more. TUMBLR MASTERPOST

Sorry, Not Sorry by SoftObsidian74 ART BY: DrowningByDegrees & The_She_Devil

All Steve Rogers ever wanted was to do what’s right. So when he drops in to volunteer at the Brooklyn VA Outpatient Center, he’s surprised to learn some veterans actually resent Captain America and everything he represents. One veteran in particular is determined to make sure Steve understands just how much he dislikes him. TUMBLR MASTERPOST

The Stars Crossed Right by cettevieestbien ART BY: everybodyhateselliot

Steve returns from the bathroom as soon as Bucky’s eyes close. “Buck!” He groans. “Nope. I’m going back to bed. Nope.” “Bucky.” “No.” “We’re going to be late.” “To what?” “Your surprise.” Steve waits for Bucky to move, gives up after a moment. Then, like an asshole, he settles his tiny ass on Bucky’s hips and fucking tickles him. “Goddammit, Steve,” Bucky nearly shrieks. He opens his eyes wide and pushes at Steve’s massive shoulders. “Off, off.” Steve relents, but doesn’t get off — apparently, it’s just too funny. He drops so they’re chest to chest, laughing so hard he’s making them both shake with it. “Stevie,” Bucky complains, but he’s smiling wide enough for it to hurt. It doesn’t quite hit the intended mark. – A fic spanning from April 10th, 2011 to August 21st, 2016. Read as Bucky and Steve encounter relationship woes, superhero-dom, cute animals named after beloved characters, Bucky’s hilarious family, tragedy, and the Accords. Not necessarily in that order. (Written for the 2018 Shrunkyclunks Bang!)

The Station by Queerily_kai ART BY: krycekasks

Bucky is a professional climber and writer trying to finish an article. Steve is trying to avoid the Avengers tower and team needing a break from it all. Despite recognizing Steve as Captain America from the start, Bucky ignores his superhero identity, and finds himself falling for Steve Rogers, the human. Steve is happy to forget about his public persona, and gets to be himself again, having his first friend since waking from the ice two years previously, and then the first boyfriend who doesn’t have to be a secret. Everything changes in the Alps when Bucky’ team is caught in an avalanche, and he ends up in a world he never expected.

Sunlight on Still Waters by sparkly_butthole ART BY:  cobaltmoony

Steve Rogers lives in a broken-down building in Brooklyn, shops at Whole Foods, and plays Captain America as necessary, adjusting to the twenty-first century as well as can be expected. He’s not looking for a sub, not actively, but when he stumbles - literally - upon his neighbor Bucky Barnes, that old spark lights up once more. But things have changed since Steve went into the ice. Society’s gone forwards in many ways, but not all, not by a longshot. And soon enough, he’ll have to play a hero of a different kind.

Technicolor by starmaki, themirrordarkly ART BY:  layersofsilence

Bucky Barnes has been cast as Captain America in an up and coming film. In researching the part, Bucky comes face to face with the living legend over a sushi lunch. Steve is uncomfortable about his life being portrayed on the silver screen. But it is part of the course of being famous and an icon. Meeting the actor who is to portray him, Steve is both annoyed and intrigued by the man. One meeting should have been enough, but Steve keeps finding excuses to see him again. All to help with the movie, he keeps telling himself. Steve was such a bad liar. TUMBLR MASTERPOST

Thank You For Calling by MarleyMortis ART BY: The_She_Devil

“Thank you for calling Superhuman Disaster Insurance; this is Bucky Barnes speaking. How can I help you?” Wherein Bucky Barnes, frustrated millennial, helps clean up after messes made by superhumans, stumbles upon a plot to ruin a non-profit charity, finds out his leukemia is back, and absolutely does not have a thing for Captain America’s smile. Probably.

Use Your Agency by romanticalgirl ART BY: Taste_is_sweet

Bucky is given the assignment (punishment) of being the agent whose job it is to integrate the newly-thawed Captain America into life in a new century. Only maybe it’s not so bad. Because Bucky ends up dealing with Steve Rogers, who is nothing like the Captain America in Bucky’s history books. From coming out of the ice through AoU. TUMBLR MASTERPOST

To Catch a Soul by layersofsilence ART BY: DrowningByDegrees

When Steve Rogers pilots the Valkyrie into the cold waters of the English Channel, he expects to die. He doesn’t expect to wake up on a beach, he doesn’t expect to bump into the wireless operator he’d talked to on the way down, and he certainly doesn’t expect to like Bucky as much as he does. But, according to the angel now following him around, it turns out that Steve had been supposed to die, on that fateful morning. And to stay on Earth – to stay with Bucky – Steve faces what is, quite literally, the fight of his life.

True Lord of the Dance by QueenoftheRandomWord42 ART BY: Thunderboltsortofpenny

Honestly, Steve never expected to have a moment in his friendship with Howard Stark that he’d regret. “…but It’s easy to get distracted by the big picture, so remember to stop and treat yourself to a nice dance from time to time.” Howard read aloud, then he paused, “Wait, is the fourth of July really your birthday?” “Yes, yes Howard, it is.” Steve laughed. “And I’ve seen one of your shows, you’re a real lord of the dance.” Howard rolled his eyes at that with a bit of a laugh. “Laugh it up Howard.” Steve muttered. But when a sarcastic comment gets taken out of context, and Steve wakes up in the 21st Century with a sudden dancing reputation and Steve is expected to perform, he’s gotta learn to dance. Learning to dance proves to be challenging, but it might be made easier by a classmate of his who answers to the name Bucky.

Walk, Walk, Fashion Baby by sunrow ART BY: Bear_shark

Tony, fed up with Steve’s utterly dull wardrobe, drags him to a fashion show in an effort to show him some more stylish options. But it’s not the clothes that catch Steve’s eye, and instead a gorgeous male model named Bucky. As luck would have it, not only does Bucky openly flirt with Steve, much to Tony’s amusement, but he also agrees to be Steve’s personal stylist. It would be perfect, if only Steve could get over his awkwardness and just ask Bucky out already.

[losille2000]

Green-Eyed Monster, one-shot

TITLE: Green-Eyed Monster CHAPTER NUMBER: ONE SHOT AUTHOR: Losille2000 WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: Actor!Tom GENRE: Romance/Drama FIC SUMMARY: Sometimes it’s difficult balancing a romantic relationship with a career and other obligations, but sometimes chances have to be taken. Sometimes, even, the green-eyed monster needs to be let out of his cage to get results. RATING: T (language) WARNINGS:  None. AUTHORS NOTES: This is for the Anon who sent me a kind message requesting a fic. I don’t always do requests, but this sprang to my mind soon after I received details. Thank you, Anon, for the messages. Also, Happy Birthday, again!

Green-Eyed Monster

What right did he have anyway, accusing her of being impossible to pin down for a date? This was the man who spent the better of the year out of the country for his career and he had the fucking audacity to insinuate she didn’t want to make this relationship work because she was too busy with her own career, friends, and family? Well, screw him. If he kept harping on about it, he was going to have another thing coming to him.

 “Ja,” said the resonate, but demanding and terse, English voice on the other end of the mobile call. “Are you there?”

 She clenched her jaw. Gritted her teeth. Okay, maybe they had a lot of things they had to work on—neither one of them had given an inch in their respective lives for each other since they’d started whatever this was between them—but that still didn’t give him the right to act like this. And on her birthday of all days!

 “Yes, I’m here,” she said though her teeth.

 “Look, I’m sorry. Truly,” Tom said.

 He sighed into the phone, the sound of scratching audible through the line afterward. If she wasn’t mistaken, he was nervously fidgeting with his slightly overgrown beard again. She liked the look of the beard well enough, and she loved the way it rasped her thighs when they made love, but she’d spent the better part of a fortnight trying to convince him to trim it up a smidge. Frankly, she could do without a mouthful of whiskers every time she kissed him.

 “I’ve really got to go, Tom,” she replied, looking at the mountain of paperwork on her desk. “The longer I spend on the phone arguing with you, the longer I have to stay at the office.”

 He sighed again, this time more peevishly. “Please let me know about later. I want to take you out today, on your actual birthday, for a change. Before I have to go to my thing tonight.”

 His… thing. Oh, right, the premiere. She waited for him to bring that bit up, too, about how she refused to attend any public events with him because it seemed so… permanent. For a relationship that had been on and off for a little less than a year, with no defined roles beyond that of close friends who fucked, it wasn’t something she wanted to get involved with. None of that attention had ever appealed to her. Especially when she knew how quickly her life would change—how invasive and nasty people could be. Accompanying him to anything like that was tantamount to a pledge of love, and she didn’t know yet if that’s what she was feeling for him.

 “Speaking of,” she said, some demon inside of her making the voice come from her mouth. She knew she should shut the hell up, lest she make the gulf between them even worse, but nothing she did dispossessed her of the thoughts in her head or the devil sitting on her shoulder. “If you’re so keen to get me all to yourself, why don’t you cancel your appearance?”

He scoffed. “You know I can’t do that. I’m second billed!”

 “Yes, right, well, so the fuck am I,” she deadpanned. “I don’t like it any more than you do, Tom, but this is our life. And until we agree to meet halfway, this is how it’s going to be.”

 At that moment, her boss, Bill, stepped out of his office with his overcoat hanging on his arm, ready to leave for lunch. Older, wealthy, the definition of a silver fox, she’d once fancied she had a thing for him. But that was going on seven years ago, and she didn’t necessarily like how he handled his love life. As his assistant, she’d been tasked with sending too many break up gifts through the years. What he had turned into, though, was an intelligent man and a very faithful, giving friend.

 Which, of course, Tom hated. It wasn’t that Tom didn’t trust her—he simply seemed to hate not being able to show possible challengers for her hand that he had her. In fact, the irony of it was that Tom and Bill would probably be the best of friends if they pulled their heads out of their respective arses. Instead, both men resorted to their testosterone-driven hindbrains when she was around, thinking they were each protecting her from the other man, though for very different reasons.

 Bill stopped in front of her desk and rested a hip against the edge, fingering the silky petals of the two dozen red roses delivered to her this morning, from Tom. In hindsight, she hoped he realized he should have just left his birthday wishes at that. Not the calls and texts, trying to get her to commit to taking the afternoon off work to be with him.

 “I have to go. Bill is taking me to lunch.”

 “Are you—,” he spat, but stopped himself. He reined in his voice, just barely, before continuing. Not that what he said was much better said evenly. “Maybe you shouldn’t go with him if you’ve got so much work to do?”

 Enraged didn’t even cover it. “Get stuffed, Thomas. You had better have a change of heart by the time we meet up later or I’m locking your arse out of my flat. Clear?”

 “Crystal,” he said a moment before the line went dead.

 She tossed her phone on the desk, letting her body sag into her seat and her forehead fall on the calendar book in front of her. She hated arguing. Absolutely hated it. But for goodness sakes, something had to give if this was going to work. They couldn’t keep going on like this.

 “Trouble in paradise, love?” Bill asked, a triumphant laugh in his voice. He’d told her Tom was a jealous one. She hadn’t believed him. Sure, she liked knowing Tom wanted to keep her all to himself, but when he didn’t allow her to have the same access to him… well, it just wasn’t going to work.

 “Sod off, Bill.”

 He laughed loudly. “Come on. I’ve booked us a table at Le Gavroche.”

 “What’s the occasion?” she asked, collecting her purse and coat.

 He helped her into the coat and they made their way to the lifts before he spoke. “I thought we were celebrating today?”

 “We are,” she chuckled lightly. “Le Gavroche is a little much for lunch, though.”

 “When have I ever skimped on you, Ja?” he asked, a salt-and-pepper eyebrow rising curiously.

 She shrugged. He hadn’t really. That’s what made him a good boss. Other assistants got the short end of the stick, as far as she was concerned. He gave her a more than healthy salary, exorbitant bonuses, and additional gifts. His office philosophy was that if the company did well for him, then he did well for the staff, which made them all work very, very hard to impress him.

 They made small talk, and he received a short call from one of their clients in the cab on the way to the restaurant. Soon they were seated in the sedate ambiance of one of the finest French restaurants this side of the Channel. Two Michelin stars, to be exact. He ordered wine, and they chose their main courses—she went with Coquilles St. Jacques—before he looked across the table at her with a look of concern.

 “What?” she asked.

 “How long have you been working for me, Ja?”

 She frowned. Great. He wasn’t about to fire her, was he? “Uh, seven years.”

 “Right,” he said, nodding his head, scratching his square jaw.

 “Why?”

 He stretched back in his seat, relaxing against the pillowed booth-back behind him. “So you would say we know each other pretty well, right?”

 “Bill, I go to your family Christmas parties,” she said. “If that doesn’t mean we don’t know each other well, then I don’t know what does.”

 “True,” he responded. “Then you wouldn’t balk were I to give you a little advice, would you?”

 Her frown deepened. “Advice?”

 “Yes. Advice,” he said.

 “Have I done something wrong?”

 He started. “What? Of course not, Ja! You’re the best assistant I’ve ever had. In fact, I’ll be loath to break in someone new.”

 She felt her world closing in around her. This wasn’t happening. “Excuse me? You sound like you’re going to—”

 “Oh, God, no!” he said, waving a hand at her. “I spoke too soon. Let me start at the beginning. Please. You’re not going anywhere. Verity Investments needs your talent. You’re brilliant!”

 She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “I’m not understanding.”

 “When was the last time you took a holiday, Ja?” he asked. “Like a real honest-to-god holiday with sun and surf and no work at all. Not days off to visit doctors and such.”

 Ja laughed at him. “With all due respect, Bill, keeping your life and business running smoothly does not lend itself to holidays.”

 “My point is,” he began, “is that we need to do something about that. You need to have a life, too, and I’ve monopolized you for seven years. Though your work has only got better, it has also made you rather…intense… with your work. You’re in there all hours of the day, shutting yourself away from having a great life.”

 “I like my life just fine,” she replied, even though she rethought that the second after she said so. She loved her job. She loved her boss, her fellow co-workers. A dream, really. But he was right. She hardly ever saw her family, and her love life… well, her love life left a lot to be desired. The number one reason she didn’t want to meet Tom halfway was because she didn’t have enough brainpower left in the day to manage that relationship. Relationships were tough enough on their own, but adding in who he was… well, she just couldn’t do it.

 Bill gave her a knowing glance with a shake of his head. “You know that’s not true. You didn’t say it earlier, but I heard it in your voice when you were on the mobile with Tom.”

 “If he only knew you were helping him out right now.”

 “Yes, well, we’ll just keep that between us, shan’t we?” he said. “He needs to have a healthy fear of other men in your life. It’ll keep him on top of his game.”

 “All his game is doing is giving me grief,” she said.

 Bill rolled his eyes. “You are probably one of the most intelligent women I know, but sometimes you can be quite dense.”

 “Why?”

 “He’s been in London for three whole months doing Hamlet, and you’ve hardly seen him at all,” he said.

 “That’s hardly my fault,” she said. “He was rehearsing all the time and I had things to do.”

 “Did you really have things to do, or were you making things to do so you wouldn’t have to spend time with him?” he asked. “What are you afraid of, anyway?”

 Ja cast him a grimace. She hated how well he knew her. Seven years of being work husband and wife clearly had given him quite the insight to her psyche. “What isn’t there to be afraid of? You saw what happened to him last year in the press. I don’t know if I can handle that myself.”

 “You’re not a pop tart,” he said. “I rather think you outclass her in every category… and people will see that. He’ll be so happy to have you around, people will see it. And they’ll love you.”

 “But will he be happy? We argue about the lack of time together all the time,” she said. “Even when I do try to give him time.”

 “I think you need to take some personal time and see if it’s worth it.” He reached a hand into his suit coat and withdrew from the inner pocket a white business envelope. Unsealed, though thick with folded paper, he pushed it toward her on the linen-covered table top. He held a hand over it until she looked at him. “Before you open this, you have to promise me something.”

 “Promise what?”

 He cleared his throat. “That you’ll take the next ninety days off—use up most of your accrued leave time—and enjoy life.”

 “Three months?!” she screeched, drawing attention from the tables around them. She put her hand over his. “I can’t leave everything for three months. What are you going to do?”

 “Hire a replacement,” he said. “Because even when you come back, you’re not coming back as my assistant.”

 “I’m… not?”

 He shook his head and removed his hand. “Inside is a contract for your promotion to CFO.”

 “What?” she squawked. This was… everything. Everything she had worked for, ever. All the blood, sweat and tears she’d poured into business school, the long nights spent poring over the company financials for him, teaching herself the workings of their business. “What about Gordon?”

 “Gordon is retiring at the end of the year. We’ve not announced it yet,” he said. “I was hoping to get you signed before any press releases were made.”

 Ja didn’t know what to do. Her hands shook as she opened the envelope and read the front page. Sure enough, it was a contract for employment, with her details in all the right places. “Where’s your pen?”

 Bill laughed heartily at that. “I’m not letting you sign it until you agree to the following terms.”

 “Right, right, I’ll take the three months,” she said.

 “Nuh-uh,” he shook a finger at her. “There’s more. I also insist that you take weekends off, like the rest of us.”

 She nodded. “Fine. Pen.”

 “And, for as long as you have a globetrotter for a boyfriend, you’ll take a mandatory two-week holiday every quarter,” he replied. “Presumably, to be with him.”

 “That’s ridiculous, Bill. No one gives that amount of leave.”

 Bill laughed. “Well, I do. Now, shake my hand and agree to it. I will be checking up on you to make sure you’re following the terms of the contract.”

 She didn’t hesitate to shake his hand, or sign on the dotted line. She did, however, resist calling Tom to give him the good news. He could stew in his juices for a little while longer. Served him right, anyway, after the way he’d treated her earlier.

  That was how she found herself standing around like an idiot, all alone, just on the edge of the red carpet leading deeper into Leicester Square and the Odeon for the Thor premiere, dressed to the nines. Somehow, Bill had talked her into taking the company credit card and spending the rest of the day on a good pampering—sod all the work needing to be done. Bill had clearly called ahead to various places, knowing where he was sending her and what she needed for entrance into Tom’s world. Because she sure as hell didn’t know what she needed, and they’d outfitted her in all the latest fashions with fancy hair and makeup to boot.

As far as birthdays went, even with Tom’s whinging earlier, it had turned out all right.

 Until then, she breathed in and out in an effort to find calm, trying not to freak out in the sweltering sea of bodies bumping back and forth, against her, into her, all around hugging and talking and making a ton of noise. That didn’t even include the flashing cameras and the yelling. Good God, the yelling! From both fans and paparazzi. She didn’t know how he did it. And, in fact, she considered turning right around on her ridiculous heels and heading home.

 But Bill had been right, like he was always right. Ripping it off like a plaster was the best thing for it. Then it would give her the appropriate amount of time to see if she really could deal with this life—with Tom—before her three-month sabbatical was up. Now, all she could hope for was that he actually wanted her here.

 He had been livid when she rang to tell him that she couldn’t get away to have dinner before his premiere… that they’d just have to meet later. So livid, in fact, he said nothing and hung up. She’d almost canceled everything—called Luke back to say never mind on messengering the pass to her and everything. But she didn’t. She wanted to take the chance. For once in her life.

 An incredibly tall older guy with grey hair passed beside her, his arm brushing hers.  He paused a moment, smiling brightly down at her. It took another full second to realize it was Jeff Goldblum which precipitated ten-year-old her having a minor meltdown. Okay, maybe it wasn’t minor. She was practically vibrating with anxiety, blinking wildly, as her mouth dropped open.

 Jeff smiled charitably at her, pressing a warm hand to her arm and cocking his head to the side. “Hello, dear.”

 “I’m, um… hi,” she wheezed.

 He laughed and looked at the pass hanging around her neck. “Why don’t you, uh, come in with us instead of waiting out here? No sense standing out here getting trampled on.”

 She shook her head. “I’m waiting for Tom.”

 “Aren’t they all?”

 “I suppose a few of them are,” she murmured, glancing across the street at a group of women wearing very large Loki helmets of different fabrications. “I’m his, er, girlfriend.”

Well, she supposed she was. She didn’t know anymore.

 Jeff clapped his hands gleefully. “Oh, I knew you seemed familiar. He was going on and on about you during our downtime between press this week! He showed us a few photos.”

 Her face inflamed and she looked away from him nervously. “Really?”

 “Just between you and me,” he said, leaning in conspiratorially, “he’s smitten.”

 “Thanks,” she said.

 Jeff let out a laugh again, a full deep one, then slipped a hand around the pretty woman beside him, who must have been his wife. “We’ll see you inside, lovely.”

 And they moved on, leaving her with a massive crush and blushing cheeks. Fortunately, a loud roar in the crowd stole her attention, though whatever had happened was then blocked by a large black SUV.  She breathed in, then out, listening to the insanity, making out the name they’d begun chanting.

 He had arrived.

 She stood on her tiptoes—which, really, she already was in these shoes—trying to see over everyone, but she was too small. So, she resigned herself to waiting until he was done doing whatever. The car pulled away, leaving him in full view as he worked his way down the line signing things, taking photos and shaking hands. It was insane. But it did give her ample time to look over his svelte form, in a dark charcoal grey suit, cut to his body, perfectly tailored. She’d always admired that about him—how well he dressed. Okay, dressed when he was on the job. The everyday clothes? Those would need to change if she was going to be around him more.

 Heck, she’d be perfectly fine if he wore nothing in the privacy of their respective homes. But when they went out? She didn’t want to be staring at the same thing all the time.

 When Luke pulled him along, toward her, she noted that he’d also cleaned up his beard, trimmed it a bit. He looked better. Better than better. Except for the way his lips were pressed together, like this was the absolute last place he wanted to be. Sullen. Fuck, why had she given him such a hard time on the phone this morning?

 No, wait. He deserved it for unleashing his green-eyed monster earlier.

 Still, she realized, belatedly, how much she’d hurt him, too. It softened her more than her nervousness already had.

 Finally, they moved nearer to her, joining the throng slowly making their way down onto the main part of the red carpet. They didn’t seem to notice her—which wasn’t hard, surrounded by so many large people—so she elbowed her way through the black-clothed handlers and stopped dead in front of him, just as he began to pass by.

 He froze, frowned, squinted his eyes as if trying to make sense of the moment like people do when they see an out of place object. Then, before she could prepare, his arms shot around her, crushing her to his chest, lifting her in his arms and spinning around. She wobbled in his secure embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck for support just as she felt a giddy giggle springing from her throat. Then he kissed her, full, and long, with demanding lips and teeth and a bit of tongue—for good measure—in full view of everyone. Fuck, he never ceased to steal her breath away.

 “What are you doing here?” he asked, a huge smile splitting his lips.

 “What does it look like I’m doing?” she retorted and fingered the lanyard and pass around her neck so he could look at it.

 When she finally met his eyes again, she saw tears in them. Maybe not full blown “I’m about to sob” tears, but definitely a little mist. And it broke her. Literally broke her. Why hadn’t he just pulled his head out of his arse and told her how much something like this meant to him anyway? Bloody man.

 “Did you know you were doing this from the first time we talked this morning?” he asked. “If so, I apologize.”

 “No, I didn’t,” she said. “I really did have work to do… but let’s not talk about it now, okay? We do need to talk, though. You need to stop being such a jealous arse, and I need to stop letting good things pass me by. But right now, I just want to enjoy the night with my boyfriend.”

 His shoulders stiffened. And he suddenly looked like a boy who’d just won the top prize at some sort of school event. “Seriously?”

 “Seriously… what?” she teased him, making him work for it.

 “Boyfriend? Not ‘friend’ or ‘lover’ or any of the other ridiculous names you’ve applied to what we are, but never really committing to it?” he asked.

 She blushed. Had she really been so bad? Maybe so. “Yes, boyfriend.”

 “Well, then,” he replied, entwining her hand with his, “since you’re my girlfriend, I think you need to come with me.”

 “Of course I’m coming with you,” she said.

 “No,” he said and waved his free arm at the brightly colored screen with the Thor Ragnarok logo printed across it, and the many, many flashing camera bulbs going off at the latest celebrity to stop in front of it. “I mean, you’re coming with me, and I’m showing you off tonight.”

 She frowned. “But Tom…”

 “Nope. Stop. You’re here with me now, and I don’t intend on letting you out of my sight.”

 She sighed. He was right. This was what she’d agreed to by coming here—it was what Bill told her she needed to do to figure out if she could handle this life with Tom. There was only one thing to do for it. Follow him in front of the firing squad.

 “Don’t let go, okay?” she pleaded, her voice tremulous with nerves.

 He shook his head. A giant grin made her insides wibble. “Never.”

[rowanismybae]

Happy Bday Pri!!!

My wife @deathbytitanium it’s getting older today and I’m so freaking happy to be a part of her life! It’s amazing how close we got in such short time, but I’m really happy I got to know her because now I can’t imagine a day in my life without her. Even though we live in different countries, our lives now are linked and that makes me feel blessed beyond measure.

I wish you a very happy birthday my babe, and may your life be filled with joy, success, love and may your dreams come true. And I only pray to God that he may take special care of you while I can’t! 

Since I couldn’t send you a gift ‘cause I’m poor, I wrote you something... A Nesian fic, because I know you love them. So, I hope this works as your gift until I can give you a proper one. (Keeping in mind that here it’s already midnight, so to me, you are already older)

The fanfic starts under the cut. Love ya, my girl!

Nesta hates birthday parties. Especially hers. But, since she and Feyre are trying really hard to bond over the past year, she decided to let her baby sister throw her a party in celebration of her 24th birthday.

The house was decorated in a pool party theme and only Nesta’s closest friends and Feyre’s new family were present. It looked beautiful and Elain helped with the decoration and the flowers. They ordered food and drinks and the party could be easily a huge thing, but for her sake, they kept a low profile. She liked things that were less crowded and more intimate.

The day was amazing, she had to give her sisters that. She had fun with her friends and the food was so good she wanted to die. Even Cassian, the stupid prick, was behaving. He said it was her birthday gift. And she almost missed their bickering. Almost.

The night fell way too quickly. Her friends said their goodbyes and she stayed with her other friends, the ones that were starting to make her feel at home. It was strange, but it was true.

Mor, the ever excited ball of joy, told her to open the gifts and, rolling her eyes, she obliged, but not before rolling her eyes. She wanted to see what people have got her, but she didn’t want attention while doing it. But she opened them with the others around her.

She started with the ones from her friends. A coat, three books and a dress that was kinda out of her comfort zone, but she liked anyway. Then she opened Mor’s first. They didn’t have the most friendly relationship but they were both trying, for Feyre’s sake. The package was black and gold and when she opened it, she felt her cheeks blush furiously.

“Show it to everyone, Nesta…” Mor said with a smirk. Damn her.

Reluctantly, she pulled out the most indecent and gorgeous set of black lingerie that she had ever seen. It made the guys whistled and the ladies woo and she couldn’t be more embarrassed. She glared the blond that just shrugged and said with the smirk still on her lips:

“Every girl needs a set of sexy lingerie, Nesta. It was time for you to have yours.”

Nesta wanted to punch and thank her at the same time. And she felt one set of eyes burning her skin more than the others. Of course, it had to be Cassian.

“What?” she asked and he shrugged.

“It’s a beautiful lingerie…” he said nonchalantly.

She rolled her eyes and Elain handed her and Azriel’s gift. It was a beautiful pair of nude stilettos that made her jaw drop.

“It’ll go well with the lingerie…” Elain said and giggled. Nesta was so surprised that she burst into laughter and the others joined her, making her sister blush furiously. Azriel placed a soft kiss on her temple and said something that made her expression switch from embarrassment to mischief. Nesta thanked both and moved on.

Feyre and Rhys’s gift was a gorgeous black long cocktail dress with a slit that went up to her thigh and a discreet cleavage and some golden embroidered on it.   She looked around and noticed that everything matched…

“Did you guys planned on giving this a set?” they nodded. Of course, they had. “Why?”

“Oh, nothing special… just if maybe someday you have a nice event to attend to, you already have the perfect set…” Feyre said shrugging.

“You’re all insane. But thanks, guys…” Nesta said.

“Hey, what about mine? I need to give you my contribution to this wonderful set of gala dress up.” Cassian said and handed her a black velvet box square and she already knew it was a jewel.

“You said that your gift was that you weren’t going to annoy me today, Cassian.”

He smiled. “I just omit the fact that it wasn’t the only gift.” She rolled her eyes but took the box from his hand muttering thanks.

It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. It was a choker made of black diamonds and a small tear drop shaped ruby in the center.

“Cassian, this must have cost a fortune!!!” She whispered, her eyes were wide and she was… speechless.

He had the audacity to shrug. “It was nothing.��� she was about to protest when he added “plus it’ll look amazing with the dress… and the lingerie.” he winked and she was still having trouble understanding why did he spend so much money on a gift that she didn’t even have a place to wear. The other gifts were also expensive, but except for Mor, the others had shared the gifts. He didn’t. And his was the most expensive of the bunch.

She was touching the necklace with her fingers and when she looked at him, he had another gift in his lap. She gasped and shook her head vigorously. “Tell me that’s not another gift Cassian Starlight!”

“It’s a book!” He said defensively.

“I can take the book, but not the necklace. It’s too much,” she stated and he handed her the book.

When she opened the wrapping, she whimpered. It was a ‘Beauty and the Beast’ in French written by Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve in 1740, the story was the original one, but the publication was an older one since the first editions had collections of other tales combined. When she went through the pages she saw that it was one of the earlier editions, near the 1890s; it still had an inscription from a father to his daughter. She looked at him and he had an intense look in his eyes and a soft smile on his lips.

“Cassian, how-?” she wasn’t able to form words anymore.

He shrugged. “ I remembered that you cried your eyes out when we watched the movie and I noticed you knew basically every line. A few questions here and there and I confirmed that it was your favorite fairy tale. And I looked for the original book and I’ll admit, it took time, but for the look on your face, it was worth it.” he smiled.

She heard Feyre usher everyone else out of the room leaving the two of them. She never stopped looking at him, he was calm and happy with himself.

When they all left, she looked back at the book in her hands and a tear slipped from her eyes. She was so… damn, that was more important to her than every other gift she received. Ever.

“Look, if you don’t like it I can take it back or change for something else... I really wished you could take them both, but if I screwed things up then I’ll -”

She took his face between her hands and kissed him. At first, he was too shocked to move but then his hands went for her waist tugging her closer to him like she was the most precious thing on earth. She would never say anything, but she wanted to do that quite some time and now that it happened, she felt at home.

When he broke the kiss he had the most stupid grin on his face; it was also the most beautiful one she ever saw him share.

“I’ll take that as a sign that you like the gifts…” he said with his husky voice. She chuckled and pecked his lips once more.

“I loved it, Cass, it was the most beautiful and thoughtful thing someone has ever done for me.” She said with a smile dancing on her lips.

“I - uh - I also wanna ask you something…” she looked at him and waited. “There’s the Company gala in two weeks and I’d love you to be my plus one…” he was playing with a strand of her hair.

“That’s why you all decided to buy me fancy things?” She asked and chuckled when he shrugged. “Okay. I’d love to be your plus one.” His face lit up and she smiled seductively. “And maybe, if you behave, you’ll get to see me wearing the nothing but the choker, heels, and lingerie by the end of the night…”

His throat bobbed and she leaned forward and bit his lower lip and pulled; he groaned and she giggled. Yes, Nesta Archeron giggled. After letting go of his sinful lip, she stood up and offered a hand to ease him up. He arched a brow.

“Let’s go enjoy the pool with the others, it sounds like they’re having fun...”

“Uh, you go ahead… I need to… you know…” he looked at his waist before looking at her and she noticed the effect she had on him and laughed. “After I cool down, I’ll be right there.”

She shook her head and tugged his arm. “Nope. It’s dark and no one will see it. And if they do, so what? I like to be the reason for… that.” She looked pointedly at the bulge in his shorts.

He laughed and they went party with the others.

Definitely the best birthday of her life.

[imlessashamedofmyfanfics]

Birthday Lunches (Woozi)

Birthday Lunches (by imlessashamedofmyfanfics)

Pairing: Reader/Woozi (side, platonic reader/seungkwan) Reader’s Gender: Female Genre: Fluff Universe: General AU Rating: G rating Length: Oneshot (2327 words) Warnings: None

Notes: happy birthday @ichigoyuuki. when you read this i will have written it MONTHS ago.

Summary: Lunch with your crush and best friend on your birthday? It sounds nice and all until you remember that Seungkwan is evil. Well, evil may be giving him too much credit. He was trying to make your day nice.

When you wake up, your clock reads 7am and your phone is lighting up with messages. For a second, you consider not checking them and rolling back over to let sleep retake you, but you decide against it and sit up. When you pick it up, you’re first greeted with the date- your birthday, you smile- then with the names of who’s been messaging you. As well as the messages themselves.

Though you have one from a few people- all ‘happy birthday’s as expected- most are from your best friend, Seungkwan. On the days leading up to today, you’ve become convinced he’s more excited than you are. You’re pretty sure he’s planning something he wont tell you about- despite you begging for no surprises- but you can’t actually prove it. You save replying to him for last, first thanking everyone else for their well wishes, and sitting up in your bed.

Then you look at Seungkwan’s messages. Starting from 6:58am, he’s sent you 14.

SK: happy brithday my dear best friend~ SK: you’re the best and i love you SK: and i know you didn’t want any surprises SK; so heres a warning! SK: We’re going to have lunch together! SK: with Jihoon too SK: Okay? SK: Hey! you’re up right? SK: maybe not? SK: hey i know it sounds like i was plotting but it wasn’t my idea SK: the lunch, i mean. It was Jihoons SK: So don’t be mad at me? O~O please SK: <3 SK: wait, maybe you are asleep

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head. Part of you does want to be annoyed at the last minute warning, but it was hard to be mad at him since he gave you warning at all. That, and he added a 15th message, a picture of himself pouting, as well as another ‘don’t be mad at me.’

You: I’m not mad You: Maybe a little? You:  thank you for the warning You: and birthday wishes You: when’s lunch?

SK: 3!

You: Okay, see you then.

SK: you’re really not mad?

You: no

Sighing, you decided to get up and get ready for the day. Once you’re dressed and fed it’s 8am, and you realize you need to fill the time until lunch. You’d celebrated with your family early, being that you were expecting to end up spending time with your friends today, anyway, even though the actual event hadn’t been what you anticipated.

Another message pops up on your phone, and you almost expect it to be Seungkwan again, but to your surprise it’s not. It’s Jihoon. While you’re busy being surprised, he adds to the number of messages, before you finally read them so you can respond.

WZ: Happy Birthday, ___. WZ: Seungkwan said he already told you about lunch? WZ: the original plan was to invite more people, for the record. You can blame it being down to just him and us on him. he insisted. WZ: I don’t know why. but he’s your best friend, so i figured you’d prefer it this way, if he was insisting. So, see you then? WZ: happy birthday WZ: again. WZ: i didn’t realize I’d said that first.

There’s a pause that follows, where he doesn’t send anything else and you try to find responses to what he’s said. Talking to Jihoon was never your strong suit, even if text messages were easier. It shouldn’t be that hard, either way, you tell yourself. Yet, talking to your crush was never so easy. Pushing that thought away, you form a response.

You: Thank you! You: Well, i’m not a huge fan of crowds? You: or large groups? he probably was thinking about that heh.

More like trying to give you more chances to talk to Jihoon. You can’t say that, of course, but it wasn’t that hard to figure out knowing Seungkwan and how much he knew. 

You: anyway, yeah, see you then

Feeling like that’s enough of a response, you set your phone aside. Then, after a moment, you pick it back up and pull up Seungkwan’s contact.

You: you’re mean You: apparently, you recommended it just be us three You: why

SK: because i love you? SK: It’s your chance!

You: to suffer?

SK: No, __ :)

You: :(

Seungkwan doesn’t respond. You frown, setting your phone aside- for real this time, and going to find something to occupy your time.

Being your best friend and the person who arranged the whole thing- even if it wasn’t technically his idea- Seungkwan comes to pick you up just before 3pm, to take you to lunch. Though, ‘pick you up’ is a bit too generous. He can’t drive, and you don’t have a car, so instead he walks you to the place you’re getting lunch. 

“It’s not far,” Seungkwan assures you. True to that, it isn’t more than a few blocks away that Seungkwan stops in front of a restaurant, and opens the door for you. You laugh at the mock-bow he gives when you walk in, and he grins. The place is by no means fancy, which you’re thankful for, but it is rather nice. Soft colours and a warm atmosphere.

Before you can ask where you’re supposed to sit, or anything really, Seungkwan is pulling you to one side of the restaurant, where you can see Jihoon sitting. When he notices the two of you, Jihoon raises a hand in greeting.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” You say, quieter than you intend, and are glad when Seungkwan gives a louder greeting. Being a booth, someone has to sit on near the wall. You’re not a big fan of the idea, considering your company, but Seungkwan pushes you to sit down before you can argue. He slides into the spot next to you, and you suddenly feel trapped.

He’s doing this on purpose, you think. You try to glare at Seungkwan, though it goes unnoticed by him, before turning to face Jihoon, who sits across from you. Jihoon seems to have notice your glaring, at least, because he raises an eyebrow and motions to Seungkwan with a tilt of his head. You shake yours, not up to answering the silent question.

You couldn’t very well say “he’s trapping me so I can’t escape’ when that would bring the question of what you were escaping from. Saying you were escaping from Jihoon to his face wouldn’t sound very good, without knowing about your feelings.

You feel a bit better once there’s food in front of you, since it offers a reasonable distraction. You feel less better when Seungkwan’s phone goes off and he excuses himself, leaving you alone with Jihoon. Though you can’t call the silence between you totally awkward, you- at least- can’t call it comfortable either. Jihoon isn’t usually the one to initiate conversations, outside of certain circumstance, and you were still nervous around him, meaning you weren’t sure how to start one either.

“So,” Jihoon starts, drawing your attention, “how’s your birthday been?”

“Um, boring? No I mean, it’s good, I got lot’s of birthday wishes, but so far I’ve just sat at home and watched movies.”

“Is that bad?”

“No, It’s fine, just not anything worth calling exciting.”

“That’s good, at least.” Jihoon nods. Then, he makes a confused expression at something behind you, when you turn, you can see Seungkwan waving, before he turns and is out the door. You open your mouth, ready to say something, anything, but can’t really think of anything. Seungkwan passes the window next to your booth and mouths an apology, before running away.

“What a-” You stop yourself, because you’re close to saying something you don’t mean.  You love Seungkwan, he’s your best friend, but he was sort of awful, you decided. How could he just leave you, alone, with Jihoon.

“I guess it was something important?” Jihoon offers, trying to make you feel better presumably. You’d like to believe that, but you know Seungkwan. Instead of arguing as much, you just nod.

“I guess so.”

“Should we cancel the rest, then?”

“The rest of what?”  You look up, finally meeting Jihoon’s eyes for the first time since you’d gotten here.

“Your birthday? Seungkwan said he told you the plans, I figured he meant all of them.”

“I... wasn’t this lunch it?”

“No.”

“Oh.” You make an expression to mirror the word, and Jihoon offers you a smile in turn.

“I wonder why he didn’t tell you the rest?” Jihoon hums, pulling out his phone and after a moment of doing something, shows you his messages.

SK: she probably doesn’t have anything else planned SK: so lunch isn’t enough!

WZ: Okay?

SK: oh i know! SK: Movies~ SK: and ice cream! SK: Ice cream is important

WZ: sure it is. 

SK: lunch, then movie, then ice cream SK: perfect da y

WZ: Da Y

SK: Day! don’t mock me

WZ: sure, why that order?

SK: most effective

WZ: effective how?

SK: Happiness! Trust me, i know my best friend

You try not to frown at the messages. Now you were sure, Seungkwan had planned this from the beginning. He was sending you on a date without you or Jihoon knowing that was what it was. Jihoon puts his phone away, looking at you in silent question. Right, you remind yourself, he had asked if you were canceling the rest of the day. Part of you want’s to say yes, and just go home.

But movies and ice cream did sound nice. Though Jihoon’s presence was both a gift and a chance to ruin your day, you decided to take it as the positive Seungkwan meant for it to be. 

“I mean, I don’t have anything else to do today...”

“Neither do I,” Jihoon says, nodding.

“So... why not?”

“Okay.”

Movies are easier to handle. You don’t actively have to look at Jihoon, and if you do he hardly notices, you have a distraction, and it’s dark enough that you feel like you can hide if you somehow manage to embarrass yourself. You like movies. It helps that the movie you choose is actually really entertaining, you find yourself able to forget you’re here with Jihoon and not just by yourself or with one of your friends who don’t make you nervous.

And there’s popcorn.

Once the movie is over, though, you’re reminded you are, in fact, with Jihoon. He doesn’t ask what you thought of the movie, you’re sure the smile you wear leaving the theater answers that question anyway. Instead, he just smiles and walks by your side as you leave. It’s once you’re outside of the theater, that you remember the next part of the day.

It’s a bit darker out, though not near evening yet, and you almost aren’t sure if ice cream is a good idea. Still, it’s not cool enough out to stop you, so when Jihoon asks if you’re still up for it, you nod.

You’re following Jihoon, just a half-step behind so you’re still close enough to see his face, when your phone goes off. You stop- and Jihoon stops a second later- pulling it out to check who it is. Seungkwan’s name pops up, along with the first few words of his texts. You pull open your messages, sending Jihoon an apologetic look for having stopped suddenly, and read them.

SK: how’s the date? SK: :) SK: you didn’t leave right? SK: I planned this just for you!

You frown, turning off your phone screen without replying. If he’s going to do this without warning, you can ignore him until you go home. Jihoon raises an eyebrow in question, when you put your phone away.

“Seungkwan, apologizing for leaving.” You lie, because you’re certainly not going to say what Seungkwan actually wanted. Jihoon accepts the answer, anyway, and you go back to walking.

Ice cream proves to be a good decision, and a nice way to end your not-date with Jihoon. You manage conversation, even, and you feel probably the most relaxed around him you ever have.

“Thank you, by the way,” You says, once ice cream is gone and you realize you should probably go home. You don’t want to walk home in the dark, by yourself, that’s for sure. So you decided you should head home before then.

“For what?”

“All of today? Seungkwan said the lunch was your idea, at least, and you didn’t have to stay when he left.”

“It’s your birthday,” Jihoon shrugs, “I wasn’t going to leave you by yourself.”

“Well, still, thank you.”

“No problem.”

“So I should... head home. Since we’ve done everything and it’s almost dark, you know?”

“___, you,” Jihoon frowns and titls his head, “are going to walk home, by yourself?”

“Yes?”

There’s a pause. “I’ll walk you.”

“What?” You blink, once, twice, then shake your head. “It’s okay!”

“I want to.”

“Oh... okay.”

So you let Jihoon walk you home. You avoid looking at him, despite being right beside him, and focus on your footsteps. It really had turned into a pseudo-date, you realized. You’re not sure if you should be thankful or not.

Once in front of your home, there’s a pause, before you smile. “Thank you again.”

“Yeah, no problem.” Jihoon pauses, then opens his arm. “Want a hug?”

You try not to laugh, because for once he’s being the awkward one and something about that is rather nice, before you nod. It’s a short hug, because you know he isn’t huge on the things, and because you don’t want to give yourself a chance to reclaim the awkward title.

“Goodnight, Jihoon.”

“Goodnight, and happy birthday again.”

“Thank you.” You wave, before heading inside. Once you’re alone, you allow yourself to sigh in relief and smile. It was a good day, you think.

You: thank you, seungkwan You: i had a nice day You: don’t ever do this to me again

SK: <3 SK: what are best friends for?

You decided to be thankful, this time.

[chainedtm-blog]

Aaand here’s a campaign canon post and it is MUCH , much longer :

After discovering the ancient artifact and stealing it back from the guy that hired them to get it in the first place , they decided to figure out what it was. Q asked if he could be the one to hold onto it , as ancient artifacts are kind of his thing , and the group allowed it , far more trusting than he gave them credit for.

From there , they spent a lot of time together trying to travel around and figure it out , which is difficult when , in my canon , magic is not exactly welcome in most places. Luckily for the group , Q and Fang came from places where it was accepted , Dove was very accepting , Rae had magic , and Trixy just didn’t give a shit.

They bonded as they attempted to learn more about this thing , earning money and doing what they could to earn money to support themselves along the way. At the same time , Q was dealing with new and strange abilities manifesting , and trying to hide it from the people he was slowly starting to see as family.

Eventually they discovered an old wizard who told them about ancient gear known as Champion Relics , as they were bestowed upon mortals by very powerful beings like gods and demons and the like. This particular one was Balthazar’s Calling , and he immediately used it to summon demons into his home to kill the party so that he could keep it for himself. Unfortunately , the demons escaped the home and made for the town , intent on killing everything they saw.

The party stopped the demon invasion and turned in the wizard , thus becoming heroes of the town and inadvertently saving the king himself. When asked what they would call themselves , a group of metallic dragons flew overhead , one of each color , and the bard and barbarian declared them THE METALLIC GUILD. No one else got a say , but they liked the name anyway. They assigned their colors later that night.

Fang’s backstory arc began shortly after this , where his family sent him a letter calling him back home because his brother was killed by a werewolf. The MG went and slayed the beast , only to find that it had been his brother the whole time. The rest of the Vibrant Plains Clan said that it was necessary , and they would kill anyone else who got infected , but Fang nearly killed the lot of them for not trying to find a cure first. Disgusted , the party left to find a cure for future incidents after burying Fang’s brother. They are successful , and they leave after Fang convinces the Clan to split between the sympathetic and the merciless , and allies himself with the former.

In a mission to Champion Relics that occurs not too long after , Fang’s more reckless nature after the events of his arc gets him killed and resurrected. It puts things into perspective for him and he realizes his brother would not want him to die after everything that’s happened , even if he feels like he wants to. His party members are there for him , and try their best to help their friend heal.

After this , Trixy’s parents find her due to her fame and try their hardest to play up the fact that their daughter is a hero and invite the MG to a fancy dinner party , only to be publicly shut down by Trixy for her shitty childhood and how they’re only happy with her now because she’s famous. The party leaves and sets off for Zeftrix’s tribe next and have a much better dinner with lots of arm wrestling matches.

The crime ring Dove used to be a part of comes after her , capturing and torturing her about where she hid the money she took upon blowing up the base. The rest of the MG rescue her and kill as many of the remaining members as they can , though some surrender and are turned into the authorities. Dove dies temporarily in the effort. It is here that Q realizes he’s in love with Dove , through his sheer panic of losing her , but he says nothing about it.

Canorae’s goes much smoother , as they party simply has to go home for her grandfather’s birthday. But , it is here that they learn the most about the Champion Relics , which they had been learning about and trying to find to keep safe after the incident with the wizard. All of them have at least one by this point.

It is a nice respite after Dove’s arc and she and Q talk about what happened to her in the torturer’s chair. Dove eventually deflects and mentions how she knows there’s something that’s been going on with Q this whole time that he hasn’t told anyone about. He admits only to her that he’s been having strange visions about the past he cannot remember , and he is not sure what the pieces all mean. She advises he tell the rest of the group because clearly keeping everything to yourself helps no one and can get you tortured for information.

He doesn’t have to wait long because the Order sends Seekers and Defenders after him , as they think he completely defected and were going to kill him. Q knows in his heart he was very willing to , but plays it off as following multiple leads on Champion Relics.

He very much returns to his Initiate Mode , which unsettles many of the MG members because he is so emotionless and submissive and distant , like when they first met.

He returns to the temple with is friends and he is welcomed back , but the rest of his friends know this is not a welcoming environment. They are right because they are nearly assassinated in the middle of the night to protect the Order’s secrets. In the end , Quelrin has to confront the men he saw as his father figures , who tell him his true past.

Q was an ancient gold dragon known as Qyrenox , the Warbringer , that would act as an intimidation tactic by good forces in the world and incite loyalty and battle rage to fight against forces of evil. One such force , during the ancient war between the gods , working for the side of evil captured him and used a profane ritual to bind him to his current moral form. The Order is the remnant of that organization , once turned good after so many died now seeking to rebuild itself to its former evil glory under Drokol and Mevull’s rule , Remash nothing more than a coward they forced into cooperation. He then kills the two , with every intention of finding where Remash fled later.

However , Drokol had stabbed Quelrin with a poisoned blade that ultimately killed him , and then he was brought back by the remaining Order members who did not want any of this to happen. Dove confessed she was in love with him as part of the resurrection ritual , and he hears her.

He then calls together the remaining Order members and states that he will be taking over and making the Order good yet again , turning it into a hub of knowledge for those who wish to protect the world... but first he needs time. He tells the Metallic Guild that he also needs time away from them to work through this information and grief alone , but he promises to return once he is in a better place. Dove comforts him to the best of her abilities , but his mind is made up. He kisses her on the forehead , and his wings then grow from his back and he takes off into the sky.

A year later he returns to the Order , now only filled with those of good intentions , to properly help rebuild , officially taking over as Head Keeper. Remash is returned as well and resumes his role as Head Seeker , though some are wary they learn to accept him again as he was a tool like the rest of them. Another member that had been close with Q growing up was put in charge of the Defenders.

A year after that and things are stable in the Order , he returns to his party , who have since gone their separate ways. Fang returned to his fractured Clan and helped them reconcile into one once more , much more merciful this time around. Zeftrix made a name for herself in fighting for coin , no one being able to match her strength. Canorae told the party’s stories across the realm , making them even bigger in their time apart. Dove , meanwhile , could never really let the Relics go , her inquisitive mind always looking for a puzzle to solve. She is the one who has a quest ready to go for all of them again when the Metallic Guild ends their hiatus. But she waits until everyone’s caught up before talking about it.

Dove and Q flirt a lot in the reunion , now that they are both in a better place emotionally , but they’re both too chicken shit to say anything concrete.

So they go off in search of more Relics , as there are splinters of Dove’s crime ring , Fang’s Clan , Trixy’s family , Canorae’s bard college , and Q’s Order that all banded together to search for these artifacts too. There is a lot of collecting and storing at the temple as they continue on , but a fair number of “ side quest ” they go on as well.

On Q’s 55th birthday ( making him roughly 33 / 34 in human years , and yes he still celebrates his mortal birthday which was just the day he was found ) he and Dove get tipsy enough to admit they like each other and her present to him is a kiss.

For another year ( wherein Zeftrix and Canorae die temporarily ) they unravel the plot that they had apparently been following all along : there are evil gods and monsters that are looking for these Relics and this new group is trying to give them to these creatures for power , and to hopefully bring evil beings into the mortal plane to rule. They have been cutting off good being access to this plane along the way.

Eventually they discover that this is actually false , the neutral gods of the world demand the world be righted. Originally , it was only the neutral gods that existed , good and evil only came about when humans created morality , and so the now neutral gods lost power and many want it back. They tricked the cult into working for them , but many do not care at this point.

In the end , they battle the strongest of the cult members who still remain and cut off the ritual to allow the neutral gods complete control over their planes and reset the balance in the world once more.

Fang goes on to become a revered defender of the realm , becoming a wandering knight that defends all things good and bringing smiles wherever he goes.

Zeftrix goes back to fighting in a ring , loving the rush it gives her , but can be known to be more than willing to throw her hammer into a cause she thinks is worthy if you just ask.

Canorae went on to become a storyteller of legend , spreading the tales of the Metallic Guild wherever they could.

Dove Flint did have money she stole from the crime ring stashed away and used it to open a shelter for the poor that she contributes too regularly , and is known for helping out low income neighborhoods.

Q remained Head Keeper of the Order , and made it a public archive of sorts , knowing that not all knowledge ought be shared , for it could fall into the wrong hands , but everything that could be should. Anything of cultural relevance he returned to their respective locations , and anything dangerous was kept in a vault under the mountain.

Now , he is happy and he knows the truth of who he is. He is Quelrin Flint , Qyernox , Warbinger , half --- elf , ancient gold dragon , Head Keeper , and Legendary Hero.

[havekiddoswilltravel]

A Long Weekend in Santo Domingo, DR With Kids - Trip Report

Mother – Daughter 13th Birthday Getaway – Yes Trip to Santo Domingo

My eldest daughter and I enjoyed a mother – daughter 13th birthday Yes Trip to Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic and I’m ecstatic to share our trip report. It’s kid 1’s 13th year of life and I spent months planning a way to celebrate this milestone in a memorable and affirming way. Check out my two prior posts explaining what a Yes Trip is and the reasons why every parent should embark on one with their child - by clicking here and here. Now it’s time for me to report back on our trip and share more details about what we did while on the island. I traveled with over 22 letters from women in our lives and started sharing those letters with kid 1 as soon as we were sitting at the airport in NYC. Throughout our trip, I would hand her a letter, allow her to read and ponder the wisdom shared by so many amazing women in our lives. I’m so grateful for every amazing woman who took time out of their busy lives to speak into the life of my teen daughter.

How we got there?

We departed from New York City - JFK airport on a 5 am direct flight to Santo Domingo. This meant that we left CT at about 12:30 am and drove 2 hours to Queens, NY. I parked the car right at the terminal 5 parking and walked over to the departure area. Both kid 1 and I have TSA pre check (please note that children 13 and over are required to have their own TSA pre check number, but children 12 and under are covered by their parent’s). We encountered no traffic on our middle of the night drive into NYC and arrived at JFK prior to the TSA pre check lines even opening. We decided that it was worth waiting for TSA to open up and were the first in line at 3:15 am. We breezed through security and arrived at our gate to wait patiently for boarding. Who knew that a Jet Blue flight leaving NYC at 5 am would be this popular, but let me tell you, terminal 5 was packed with tourists and Dominicans taking advantage of the off-season deal!

Dominican travelers are the best. They get dressed up like they’re going to a fancy event in order to travel back home. They lack boundaries and are overly friendly to complete strangers and I soaked up every single part of this experience. I found myself being engaged in conversations with so many people at 4 am and you would have thought that we were family. This was the first of many signs for kid 1 of what her experience in Santo Domingo was going to be like. I always have an emotional response to landing in Quisquella and experiencing an entire plane full people cheering and clapping. Kid 1 was convinced that we Dominicans are “extra” and I’m more than happy to own that claim.

Customs in Santo Domingo

Our flight was uneventful and we arrived to Santo Domingo 30 minutes ahead of schedule. Unfortunately, there was still a plane using our arrival gate, so we were held off from taxing to our gate. Toward the end of our flight, we were given Dominican Customs forms to fill out. There are two different forms, one for foreigners and another for Dominicans. My daughter was considered American and I was considered Dominican, though I am a US citizen and travel with a US passport. I was born in the Dominican Republic and they recognize Dominican dual citizenship. Once we disembarked, I was so glad that I had the Dominican form, as the tourist line was incredibly long and the Dominican line was significantly shorter. We were allowed to go through customs together, even though my daughter had a tourist form. We traveled with carry ons and were through customs and outside looking for our ride within 15 minutes.

Transportation in Santo Domingo

Santo Domingo SDQ – Las Americas International Airport is actually not located in the city proper, but rather 32 km or 20 miles east of the Dominican capital city of Santo Domingo. While on past trips, when on vacation with my entire family we have rented cars, on this trip I didn’t want to waste precious travel time dealing with the hard sales that happen at Santo Domingo rental car agencies. We’ve had some pretty bad experiences while arguing about rates and insurance with car rental agencies in Santo Domingo. I had arranged for family to pick us up at the airport and drop us off at our hotel and was planning to either walk, Uber or taxi around the city.  This is pretty safe to do, if you’re staying in touristy areas and have some street smarts.

Where we stayed

I’m a pretty brand loyal costumer and have spent time at various Marriott properties in Santo Domingo. On prior trips, we’ve stayed at the Renaissance Jaragua, the Courtyard Santo Domingo and for this trip decided to take advantage of the Marriott Bonvoy changes and booked the Sheraton Santo Domingo, located on the Malecon (road parallel to the ocean). My aunt and cousin picked us up at the airport and we were sitting in the conference room at their place of business enjoying breakfast by 10 AM. After breakfast, my aunt convinced me to take their extra car and kid 1 and I made our way alone to the Sheraton Santo Domingo - thanks to Waze. Wow, Waze really works in Santo Domingo, it will even give you directions through callejones (alley ways).

Check in is normally at 4 pm, but I was hopeful that my Marriott loyalty level would allow us to check in early in order to head out to La Zona Colonial (The Colonial Zone) and get our trip started. I had the currency converted app on my phone and used it to keep track of my dollars and pesos. At the time of our trip in March of 2019 $1 US Dollar = $50.59 Dominican pesos. Prior to our weekend trip, I had researched what we wanted to see and planned how many dollars I needed to convert. I took into consideration which restaurants and tourist locations would take American Express and attempted to minimize how much cash I traveled with.

What We Did

Day 1:

-          Arrived to Santo Domingo by 8:30 am via Jet Blue direct flight from JFK.

-          Checked into The Sheraton Santo Domingo by 10 AM.

-          Explored La Zona Colonial

o   We took a short drive from the Sheraton Santo Domingo – Malecon to the Zona Colonial, found parking a few blocks away and walked to the Calle de las Damas. We were headed to the Kahkow Experience, but I kept getting distracted by the amazing architecture, streets, windows and doors that date back to the colonial period. Check out my VLOGs below to see pictures of the colonial architecture.

o   We ran into a large group of school children entering La Fortaleza Ozama on a field trip and decided to join them and explore the historical site. Fort Ozama was built in 1502 by the Spanish at the entrance to Santo Domingo’s Colonial Zone and overlooks the Ozama river, after which it was named. The castle which is also referred to as “La Fortaleza” is the oldest formal military construction of European origin in the Americas. It’s a Unesco World Heritage Site and a nice place to spend an hour while visiting Santo Domingo. Pro tip: pack water and a hat, as even in March it was incredibly hot and humid. The entry fee was $70 Dominican pesos, which is less than $1.50 US dollars per person. There are guides that you can pay for a formal tour, but I just wanted to take some pictures and explore on our own prior to heading to our next stop. You don’t have to use a guide in order to explore, so skip the non-affiliated people, walk right in, pay a few pesos and enjoy as long as you wish.

o   Next on our agenda was a tour of El Kahkow Experience. The Kahhow experience was the perfect way for my chocolate loving teen daughter to kick off her 13th birthday trip. We took part in the English language tour and make your own bar add on option. The building in which the Kahkow Experience is housed is an old colonial property which was architecturally preserved. The entire experience is well done and it was one of the highlights of our weekend trip to Santo Domingo. The tour started with a video explaining the history of chocolate, harvesting and the process of making chocolate from cacao farm to consumption. We visited on a Friday morning in late March and literally had the entire place to ourselves. We were the only two in the beginning part of our tour and then joined six others for the chocolate bar making portion. Cost: $672 Dominican Pesos for 2 for the initial tour (equals 13.28 US Dollars) and $1440 Dominican Pesos for 2 (equals 28.46 US Dollars) for the make your own chocolate portion.

o   We then headed to the square in front of the first cathedral in the New World: Catedral Primada de America and a stroll through the coffee shops, restaurants and stores of La Calle Conde. By then it was almost lunch time and we were melting, so we decided to head back to the El Malecon for lunch at Adrian Tropical.

-          Adrian Tropical is a typical Dominican Restaurant which benefits from its location on Avenida George Washington on the Malecon near major tourist hotels including the Sheraton. We always enjoy at least one meal at Adrian Tropical when visiting Santo Domingo, because nothing says I’ve arrived to Santo Domingo like enjoying a traditional meal of rice, beans, chicken, sancocho and mofongo while drinking a fria (Dominican’s call their Presidente beer “frias”) and taking in the view of the ocean and listening to the waves crash nearby. Service was slow and leaves a lot to be desired, but that pretty much was the theme of all of our eating experiences on this trip. You’re in the Caribbean, I highly recommend heading to any restaurant to order food about one hour prior to you being really hungry.

-          After lunch, we headed back to the hotel and put on our bathing suits. We live in Connecticut and it seemed like we hadn’t seen the sun in months. We laid out by the pool and enjoyed some vitamin D before heading back to our room to shower and change for dinner.

-          Dinner with family at my aunt’s house. I have a lot of extended family that lives in Santo Domingo, but 4 days on the island with the intended purpose of connecting with my teen daughter, did not leave any time for visiting family. My cousin had coordinated for any family members who wanted to see us to join us for dinner at my aunt’s house in Santo Domingo, thus kid 1 and I jumped into our borrowed car and I endured rush hour driving to arrive at my aunt’s house for dinner. Wow. That was an experience. I quickly learned that using my turning signals was just a sign of weakness and making eye contact led to people cutting me off and blocking us in. Public transportation cars and buses constantly stop for passengers on the right-hand side and would just block traffic flow. Driving in Santo Domingo is not for the faint of heart. I’m accustomed to driving in Boston, NYC, DC and LA and while it prepared me for the lack of common courtesy, I still arrived to dinner with a knot in my neck. Somehow my teenager slept through much of the driving madness and only woke up a few times while I jerked to avoid a huge pot hole or a motorist. I was proud of myself for driving in Santo Domingo, though the lack of driving rules really stressed me out, as I’m a type A, uptight rule follower. Waze did save the day, as it was extremely reliable and even navigated me out of heavy traffic. We ended up enjoying hours of Spanish language practice, food and sweetened coffee and tea at my aunt’s house with over 40 of my extended family. I finally had to tell my family that I didn’t drink sugar in my coffee and tea and it’s still a running joke in my family WhatsAPP group chat. If you’re like me and enjoy your coffee or tea without cream or sugar, be prepared to get weird looks and comments from Dominicans. They drink their milk and sugar with a little bit of coffee.

Day 2:

-          Traveling with a teen means that I got to enjoy lots of quiet time, because not once during our trip did my daughter wake up in time for breakfast. As a mother of four children ranging in ages from 6 – 13, It’s rare for me to enjoy a quiet breakfast, so on day 2 I got up and left kid 1 sleeping in our room while I enjoyed the included breakfast buffet at the Sheraton Santo Domingo. The buffet includes traditional Dominican breakfast items like mangu, queso frito, boiled yuca, salami and fresh fruit. After breakfast, I lounged by myself poolside while soaking up the morning sun. What a perfect start to what would prove to be an amazing day. Plans for day 2 included a road trip to Las Terrenas beach in Samana. My cousin, her husband and two kids picked us up in front of our hotel and off we went down the new highway to the Samana peninsula. My parents are originally from Samana and Sanchez and thus, I grew up taking long road trips to the Samana beaches, however with the toll road it only took us a little over 2 hours to arrive at a secluded and beautiful beach in Las Terrenas.

-          The beaches in the peninsula of Samana on the northeast coast of Dominican Republic are one of the reasons why I’m a total beach snob. The turquoise blue water is bath water temperature and perfect for a swim. The palm tree lined beach provide the perfect mix of sun and shade. It’s literally paradise. If you’re ever in the Samana area, ask a local how to get to Playa Marico near the piedras de las ballenas. You won’t be sorry and you can join me in the ranks of total beach snobs. Las Terrenas is known as a European settlement in Dominican Republic, but it seemed that all of the locals were recovering from a late night, because we enjoyed having the entire beach to ourselves for the morning, prior to heading to lunch.

-          Next, we headed to Restaurante Luis in Playa Coson. My cousin called ahead and reserved a table for 6 at the outdoor shack -restaurant, that was packed with locals and tourists. The restaurant consists of an outdoor kitchen – beach hut and outdoor plastic tables and chairs randomly placed on the sandy shores of Playa Coson. The kids literally played in the sand and swam while we waited for our meal. We hand-picked our fish and they cooked them for us while we sipped on pina coladas served in pineapples. I highly recommend eating fresh food while the ocean breeze cools you off and live musicians serenade you. Esa es la buena vida (that’s the good life)! Restaurante Luis is a must for anyone looking to experience Dominican Republic like a local. Just don’t tell too many people and spoil the exclusive vibe of this off the beaten path dive.

-          We had packed so much into our one-day road trip to Las Terrenas that we decided to stop by my grandmother’s country home (now owned by my uncle) in Las Garitas. I loved reminiscing with kid 1 about summer vacations running around the campo, eating mangoes right off the trees and spending hours playing outside with neighborhood kids. We drank coffee and ate snacks on the porch with my uncle and cousin while laughing hysterically about our shenanigans as young kids. We were off and back to Santo Domingo by 7 pm. We spent a total of 12 hours including travel time in Samana and were able to pack in a ton in that short period of time. On the way back to Santo Domingo we stopped at Helados Bon for ice cream, because one can’t visit DR and not eat their ice cream.

-          Our second day in Santo Domingo ended with what I call adventures in La Zona Colonial. Two of my cousins picked us up at 10 pm post a shower and nap and we headed to the Colonial Zone for a late dinner. Yes, I had my 13-daughter year old out at this time. This is DR and it’s Dominican time. In retrospect, we should have left their car at the Sheraton and taken an Uber to the restaurant, but our adventures in attempting to find a parking spot on a Saturday night in The Colonial Zone just gave us lots of opportunities for laughter. In true teen fashion, kid 1 fell asleep as soon as we got into the car and thank God she did. We drove around for over an hour prior to finding a government parking garage that was full, but the attendant agreed to allow us to park there as long as we were back by 2 am. We walked toward Calle Conde to Jalao Restaurant. Even though it was 11 pm, the Colonial Zone was packed and we quickly learned that there was not one available table inside the Jalao Restaurant, which had a live band and large groups celebrating birthday parties. We were able to score a table outside and ordered our dinner. Dominican Republic is not known for quick service, so we should have guessed that it was going to be a long night, when our waiter warned us that the kitchen was backed up and that we should order soon. It did take 1 hour for our food to come out and we did not make our way back to our car until 1 am. Thankfully, we were among family and we laughed and joked through dinner and loved people watching in the Zona Colonial.

Part 2 of my Mother – Daughter #yestrip will be forthcoming, but prior to signing off I wanted to share a couple pro tips about traveling to Dominican Republic with kids. Also, click here to see more pictures and lives posts from our Yes Trip to Santo Domingo. 

Check out my VLOG of Day 1 for many more pictures of our adventures in Santo Domingo.

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Pro Tips:

-          Pack your patience. Americans, especially those of us from the Northeast cities are always in a rush and always have an agenda. Dominican culture is not like that. Even in a major city like Santo Domingo, people move at their own pace (unless you’re driving and then everyone seems to be in a rush).

-          Even in March, Santo Domingo is hot. Pack a hat, sunblock and a refillable water bottle like my extra-large hydroflask which helps keep bottled water cold longer in the hot DR sun.

-          Practice your Spanish Language skills. Santo Domingo is a bustling city and it’s helpful if you can speak some Spanish.

-          As aforementioned, Santo Domingo is a large city and as such I highly recommend that you leave your flashy jewelry and accessories at home. We were two women traveling alone and never felt unsafe. I travel with my favorite Ebag cross bag purse and leave my large wallet safely at home.

-          Unless you’re an aggressive driver and have a thirst for adventure, leave the driving to the Dominicans. Car seats and use of seat belts are not common. It may require you to take a deep breath and relax your expectations a bit on this issue.

-          Dominicans are friendly people and always ready to engage you in conversation. When traveling with kids, be prepared for total strangers to engage your family in dialogue. Everyone called us familia (family) or prima (cousin). Kid 1 is convinced that Santo Domingo is a city of extroverts.

-          Take time to slowly explore the cobble-stoned streets and architecture of the Colonial Zone. Take lots of pictures and make beautiful memories.

-          If you’re planning a trip to Samana, I highly recommend going in January and adding a whale watching trip to your itinerary.

-          Water is not safe to drink from the tap in Dominican Republic. The Sheraton provided 3 bottles of water per day, which I used to refill my hydroflask water bottle and we picked up bottled water whenever we were out. We had no issues with GI side effects and even ate street food. We travel often though, and as a Dominican I think my GI system is probably stronger than most. If you’re worried about illness, stick to bottled water, ice in hotels and major restaurants are safe to drink.

Day 2 VLOG with many more pictures:

[amoretheiwa]

The Dark Knight and the Boy Scout

On time! For once! Here’s the end of my pre-written stuff so hopefully, I can get back ahead before next week. Enjoy!

Read on AO3

Breanna Wayne is turning 23 years old. It has been 4 months since Batman fought the Joker. While getting to know someone new at her birthday party, the contraption the media has taken to calling the Batsignal (thanks a lot, Gordon) lights up the sky. In the name of safety, Breanna sends her guests home and dons the cowl—only to run into the Man of Steel himself just a few hours after taking care of the situation. It turns out they’re both looking for the same thing, and Breanna reluctantly agrees to work with him for just this case.

Chapter 2: Enter Last Son of Krypton B

Close to two hours later and they walked out into the hallway, just 30 minutes before the gala was supposed to start. One of the people working for Ms. Iverson had directed a very shocked delivery boy to the upstairs at one point when the two women had ordered pizza. Even though there was going to be food at the party, it was considered rude to eat too much and it was not uncommon for guests to eat a small meal on their own beforehand.

Now, however, there was no reconciliation image of the two women messily eating pizza in sweats and t-shirts just an hour or so ago. Lois was wearing a dark red gown with no fancy beadwork or design on it. The neckline was cut close to the base of her neck, and instead of a regular sleeveless cut where the fabric would just end at her shoulders, it came in with a sharp point accentuating her shoulders. It was a little longer than floor-length and her shimmery gold heels peeked out with every other step that revealed toenails that matched the color of her dress. Her black hair was pinned back, the ends gently curled.

Breanna’s dress was a lighter fabric but just as dark but a blue rather than red. There was a slit that showed some cleavage and from the front that seemed to be it but the back was a rather sizeable cutout that stopped just above her hips. Her hair, with its natural curl, was pinned in a half-up-half-down look that showed plenty of her back’s skin. Her dress was the same length as Lois’ but with her extra two inches on the woman, her silver heels were visible with every step. Her toenails, like Lois’, matched the color her dress.

Where Lois wore a simple sparkling silver chain on her left wrist and a pair of gold and diamond earrings, Breanna had a thick, dull, silver bangle on both arms. A set of slim silver rings—just individual bands—on a few fingers added to the look, and her earrings were like a sheet of glowing silver that hung to just above her shoulders.

Their makeup was simple, the most attention paid to their sharp eyeliner and false eyelashes that had been placed masterfully. They were giggling, whispering to each other as they walked into the foyer. The door was open, and the event planner stopped her conversation with the head of security to stare at them for a moment. She excused herself quickly and caught them before they walked into the ballroom.

“Miss Wayne! Miss Lane!”

They both stopped, waiting for her.

“If I may say, you both look gorgeous tonight,” she began with a rushed breath. Breanna smiled, and Lois thanked her.

“Before you two enter the ballroom and truly finish preparing for tonight, I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday Miss Wayne.”

Breanna smiled again and put a hand on the woman’s shoulder.

“Thank you, Racheal. This wouldn’t have been the same without you. Remember, once all the guests have arrived, you are more than welcome to join us. You look stunning yourself.”

Breanna gave the woman a once-over with her eyes and ignored the light blush that it brought forth on her dark cheeks.

Lois made a face at Breanna as they turned and walked into the ballroom. Breanna ignored her as well and waved at the quartet who were warming up. They would be performing throughout the night, and Breanna was finally feeling herself get excited. She had not allowed herself to celebrate her birthday in many years, and when she had it was more for others than for her own enjoyment.

Less than an hour later and everyone was there, even those with a tendency to show up fashionably late. Breanna greeted all of her guests with the courtesy her parents had instilled in her before their passing, and it was with a twinge in her heart that she made small talk with a few old family friends. It was with partial relief that she noticed a tall blonde man stumbled his way in her direction.

“Excuse me, if you will Mr. and Mrs. Hendrickson. I have a friend to see,” she said with a smile. It was with a forced air of joviality that Breanna greeted Oliver Queen. He for once did not ignore her hand as it was stuck out in a handshake, and they both squeezed a little tighter than necessary.

“Ollie, good to see you well!” She said.

“Not as good as it is to see you, Bre.”

“How are things in Star City? Business going well?”

He nodded, eyes sweeping behind her.

“Things are pretty swell, even with Queen Consolidated. What about here, in Gotham? How’s Wayne Inc going?”

Breanna pulled her hand back, making a show of rubbing it on her dress.

“Gotham is Gotham, as always, and we’re about to change it to Wayne Enterprises soon.”

His eyebrows shot up as he redirected his attention back to her.

“Really? That’s an odd change.”

Breanna shrugged, grabbing two flutes of champagne as a server walked back. She handed on to him and took a sip before replying.

“It was time for a change.”

Before either could say something else, Lois appeared, towing someone as tall as Oliver over behind her. She grinned at Breanna and more or less pushed her into space next to Ollie. He had hair just as dark as Lois’ or Breanna’s, and blue eyes as well, but his face was smooth and handsome in ways Oliver’s was roguish. He wore a pair of glasses that Breanna immediately saw as fake, but as he nervously pushed them back up on his nose she recognized him as Clark Kent, a writer for the Daily Planet. Or, as Lois often referred to him, Smallville.

“Breanna, Mr. Queen, this is Clark Kent.”

As Oliver shook Lois’ offered hand, Breanna couldn’t tear her eyes away from Clark’s. He smiled at her and cleared his throat. When they shook hands, it wasn’t like when Oliver had tried to squeeze the life out of hers. His grip was gentle, and his hands were barely calloused. It took an extra second to fully pull her hand back but she swallowed before speaking.

“Wonderful to finally meet you, Clark.”

He flashed a smile that Breanna couldn’t help returning.

“Thank you for inviting me, Miss Wayne. Happy birthday, by the way.”

Breanna shook her head.

“Please, call me Breanna, and thank you.”

Oliver barked a laugh and Breanna turned to face him.

“That’s right! It’s your birthday, that’s why we’re here. Happy birthday, Bre! Maybe now that you’re older you’ll stop being so serious.”

Breanna closed her eyes and didn’t care that she was visibly losing her patience with the man. Lois’ suppressed laughter didn’t help and Breanna opened her eyes to see a waiting Oliver sharing a look with Clark.

“Tell me, Ollie, how long have you been back? Three months? Five?”

He narrowed his eyes at her and took his time answering.

“It’s been close to a year now.”

“Ah,” she said, raising a hand to brush against her chin. She turned to face Clark and Lois. “You see, Oliver here was presumed dead five years ago when his father’s ship was lost at sea. He was quite the party animal in his prime, but I never shared the same tastes.”

Oliver quirked his lips.

“Seems like you still don’t.”

He clapped his hands together.

“Well, with that, I think I’m going to find a different crowd to hang with. Ladies, Clark,” and with that he was gone. Breanna let loose a sigh and put a hand to her forehead.

Lois couldn’t stop herself anymore and let out a pealing laugh, and Clark looked back and forth between the two women.

“Am I missing something?” He asked, not unkindly. Breanna waved a hand at him.

“No, it’s no secret that Oliver and I have never gotten along. I’m sorry that you got somewhat involved in that, Clark.” He shook his head, pushing his glasses up on his nose again.

“No need to apologize.”

Lois glanced between the two and slung an arm around both of their shoulders, bringing the three of them awfully close—Clark was taller than Breanna and Breanna was taller than Lois.

“C’mon, let’s find somewhere better suited to talking.”

Ten minutes and three conversations later the trio finally found their way to the breakfast table in the Manor’s kitchen. It was a diner-like booth that curved so as to accommodate more people, while out of the main walkways of the rest of the kitchen. Breanna was sipping from a glass of almond milk, listening to Lois recount one of her funnier incidents that resulted in yet another rescue from Superman. Breanna laughed, moving her glass farther away from her face, and tried desperately not to snort. When they all calmed down and it was quiet, the heiress turned to face the newcomer.

“So, Clark, tell me—is Smallville really as small as Lois makes it sound?”

Clark glanced at his colleague with an exasperated expression. She just shrugged her shoulders and took a long drink from her glass of water.

“It probably isn’t if Lois has been exaggerating again. There’s a lot of farms so geographically wise it’s not so tiny but it’s the population that really makes the name match the place.”

Breanna nodded once and leaned forward.

“Did you grow up on a farm, then?”

Lois snorted and they looked at her.

“Bre, you’re looking at the most country boy you could hold to find this far north.”

Clark rolled his eyes and leaned back in his seat, swirling the water in his glass.

“I’ve adapted to city life fairly well,” he met Breanna’s eyes. “Mostly.”

“Mostly?” She asked, and he winced.

“There have been a few mishaps over the years,” he started. Lois chortled and sat forward.

“He just isn’t as lucky as me and doesn’t have Superman picking up after him.”

They all laughed, the conversation continued for another twenty minutes. It ranged from the differences between small town and big city life to the differences between Metropolis and Gotham. The topic had just turned to Batman and Superman when Alfred appeared behind Breanna.

“Miss Wayne, what is the point of hosting such an elaborate party if you yourself do not attend?”

Breanna leaned back, tilting her head so that she was looking at her surrogate father upside down. She grinned and he felt a twinge in his heart; it wasn’t often she was happy without some sort of regret or heavy air degrading the emotion.

“But Alfred, what’s the point of having a party if you can’t sneak away?”

He rolled his eyes and walked around the back of the booth, sliding in to sit next to his charge. She scooted over slightly, giving him more room, and he rested his hands on top of the table. Lois smiled at him.

“Alfred, this is Clark Kent. He works with me at the Daily Planet.”

Clark stood up just enough so that he could reach across the table and shake Alfred’s hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Pennyworth.”

“The pleasure is all mine, and please, call me Alfred. I enjoy reading your articles, especially the culturally focused ones.”

Clark blushed a little, a light pink that dusted his entire face.

“Ah, thank you, sir. I never really got to travel as a kid and so when work sends me anywhere I’ve never been I try to learn about the culture, local and national, and end up writing an extra two articles.”

“Tell them about that time you almost ended up married to a chieftain’s daughter in the Amazon,” Lois elbowed him, grinning.

Clark groaned but Breanna didn’t let him get away with telling the story.

More time passed and eventually, Alfred nudged the three of them back out into the foyer, which had some people mingling but not nearly as many as were still in the ballroom. It was while they were there talking that Breanna noticed something that made her entire countenance shift. Lois noticed first and followed the young woman’s gaze through the windows over the door.

“Oh,” she said softly, and soon everyone in the foyer was also looking out at the Gotham skyline. The Batsignal was lit, throwing the shadow of a stylized bat against the permanent cloud cover. Breanna sighed and put a hand against her temple. Lois gave her a look, and she shook her head.

“I guess it’s time to send everyone home,” she said mournfully. Clark turned back to look at her, no longer as distracted as he had appeared the last few seconds.

“Why? If the Bat’s signal is up wouldn’t that mean it’d be safer to keep everyone here?”

Breanna shook her head, already turning towards the ballroom.

“The Batsignal goes up whenever the commissioner wants Batman’s help, and if could be something as little as information on a case or as big as the Joker showing up again. It’s better if my guests are safe at home than here, a potential target regardless of what is happening.”

Breanna took swift strides into the ballroom and it was obvious by the hushed chatter that the party goers had also noticed the light in the sky. She signaled the quartet and they paused their playing. It took almost a full minute but eventually, she had everyone’s attention. She took a deep breath and grinned, making sure to look at the entire room.

“Thank you, everyone, so much for coming and helping me celebrate my 23rd birthday. It has been wonderful chatting with each other and catching up with some amazing refreshments and spectacular music,” she nodded at the servers standing together and the quartet that was already packing up their instruments.

“I’m afraid, though, that in the interest of safety, it is time for everyone to go home. There’s no rush but I wouldn’t want anyone to get stuck here should something happen in the few minutes.” There was a polite scattering of laughter and the chattering picked up again. This time, the entire room had a lighter feel to it as the guests each began to shuffle their way towards the front doors.

Breanna turned to face Lois and Clark, sighing.

“Anyone out in the gardens will be found by security in the next few minutes and sent on their way as well. Can Lois and I walk you out, Clark?”

The man exchanged a quick look with his colleague before nodding.

“Of course, thank you again for inviting me.”

As they walked out, Breanna smiled up at him. The height difference wasn’t severe enough that she was craning her neck, but it was obvious enough that she was grateful for her heels.

“No, thank you for coming! I’ve heard so much about you and read enough of your articles that I knew that I had to meet you.”

Clark smiled, that light blush covering his face again.

They stood outside, on the brick roundabout that circles the foundation 30 yards away from the front door. Lois gave her coworker a quick hug and Breanna shook his hand and they said their goodbyes. He walked off towards the valets with a wave and the two women turned to go back inside. They had their arms looped together and were silent as they watched the rest of the guests file out.

As soon as the cleaning was started by Ms. Iverson’s people Breanna was heading towards her study. Lois followed her, not quite sure what she was supposed to do. As she followed her younger friend into the room, Breanna locked the door behind them. Alfred was already standing there, waiting by the tall grandfather clock. He nodded at them and reached up to rotate the hands into a specific arrangement—12:17—and pushed the center, and with a low rumbling the clock swung out, revealing an elevator. Lois knew her mouth was hanging open but she couldn’t help it.

Breanna smirked and put her hand on a scanner. When it flashed green the door to the elevator opened with a quiet hiss and she stepped inside. She gestured for her friend to follow, and Lois eagerly stepped inside.

“I will take care of Ms. Iverson and her people, Miss Wayne. Expect me on the comms as soon as I am done.”

Bre nodded and pushed the down button. The door closed and they began to go down. It was when they stopped that Breanna spoke again.

“Welcome to the Cave, Lois.”

[djgblogger-blog]

An anthropologist explains why we love holiday rituals and traditions

http://bit.ly/2l4KgA9

Working together on a once-a-year project feels festive and special. Flotsam/Shutterstock.com

The mere thought of holiday traditions brings smiles to most people’s faces and elicits feelings of sweet anticipation and nostalgia. We can almost smell those candles, taste those special meals, hear those familiar songs in our minds.

Ritual marks some of the most important moments in our lives, from personal milestones like birthdays and weddings to seasonal celebrations like Thanksgiving and religious holidays like Christmas or Hanukkah. And the more important the moment, the fancier the ritual.

Holiday rituals are bursting with sensory pageantry. These (often quite literal) bells and whistles signal to all of our senses that this is no common occasion – it is one full of significance and meaning. Such sensory exuberance helps create lasting recollections of those occasions and marks them in our memory as special events worth cherishing.

Indeed, there are plenty of reasons to value family rituals. Research shows that they can provide various psychological benefits, helping us enjoy ourselves, connect with loved ones and take a respite from the daily grind.

An anxiety buffer

Everyday life is stressful and full of uncertainty. Having a special time of the year when we know exactly what to do, the way we’ve always done it, provides a comfortable sense of structure, control and stability.

A holiday toast can have special weight. diane cordell, CC BY-NC-ND

From reciting blessings to raising a glass to make a toast, holiday traditions are replete with rituals. Laboratory experiments and field studies show that the structured and repetitive actions involved in such rituals can act as a buffer against anxiety by making our world a more predictable place.

Many of those rituals may of course also be performed at other times throughout the year. But during the holiday season, they become more meaningful. They’re held in a special place (the family home) and with a special group of people (our closest relatives and friends). For this reason, more people travel during the year-end holidays than any other time of the year. Gathering together from far-flung locations helps people leave their worries behind, and at the same time lets them reconnect with time-honored family traditions.

Happy meals

No holiday tradition would be complete without a festive meal. Since the first humans gathered around the fire to roast their hunt, cooking has been one of the defining characteristics of our species.

The long hours spent in the kitchen and the dining room during the preparation and consumption of holiday meals serve some of the same social functions as the hearths of our early ancestors. Sharing a ceremonial meal symbolizes community, brings the entire family together around the table and smooths the way for conversation and connection.

All cultures have rituals that revolve around food and meal preparation. Jewish tradition dictates that all food must be chosen and prepared according to specific rules (Kosher). In parts of the Middle East and India, only the right hand must be used for eating. And in many European countries, it is important to lock eyes while making a toast in order to avoid seven years of bad sex.

Hosts pull out all the stops for over-the-top holiday feasts. +Simple on Unsplash, CC BY

Of course, special occasions require special meals. So most cultures reserve their best and most elaborate dishes for the most important holidays. For example, in Mauritius, Tamil Hindus serve the colorful “seven curries” at the conclusion of the Thaipussam kavadi festival, and in Greece families get together to spit-roast an entire lamb on Easter Day. And these recipes often include some secret ingredients – not just culinary, but also psychological.

Research shows that performing a ritual before a meal improves the eating experience and makes the food (even just plain carrots!) seem tastier. Other studies found that when children participate in food preparation they enjoy the food more, and that the longer we spend preparing a meal, the more we come to appreciate it. In this way, the labor and fanfare associated with holiday meals virtually guarantees an enhanced gastronomical experience.

Sharing is caring

It is common to exchange presents during the holiday period. From a rational perspective, this might seem pointless, at best recycling resources or, at worst, wasting them. But don’t underestimate the importance of these exchanges. Anthropologists have noted that among many societies ritualized gift-giving plays a crucial role in maintaining social ties by creating networks of reciprocal relationships.

Gifts under the tree can be a key component of Christmas celebrations. Andrew Neel on Unsplash, CC BY

Today, many families give each other lists of desired presents for the holidays. The brilliance of this system lies precisely in the fact that most people end up getting what they would buy anyway – the money gets recycled but everyone still enjoys the satisfaction of giving and receiving gifts.

And as this is a special time of the year, we can even allow ourselves some guilt-free indulgence. Last year, my wife and I saw a fancy coffee machine that we really liked, but we decided it was too expensive. But in December, we went back and bought it as a mutual present, agreeing that it was OK to splurge a bit for the holidays.

The stuff family is made of

The most important function of holiday rituals is their role in maintaining and strengthening family ties. In fact, for relatives who live far apart, holiday rituals may be the glue that holds the family together.

Ritual is a powerful marker of identity and group membership. Some of my own field studies have found that taking part in collective rituals creates feelings of belonging and increased generosity toward other members of the group. It’s no surprise, then, that spending the holidays with the in-laws for the first time is often regarded as a rite of passage – a sign of true family membership.

Holiday traditions are particularly important for children. Research shows that children who participate in group rituals become more strongly affiliated with their peers. In addition, having more positive memories of family rituals seems to be associated with more positive interactions with one’s own children.

Rituals and traditions can help make our memories of holidays good ones. Darren Coleshill on Unsplash, CC BY

Holiday rituals are the perfect recipe for family harmony. Sure, you might need to take three flights to get there, and they will almost certainly be delayed. And your uncle is bound to get drunk and start a political argument with his son-in-law again. But according to Nobel Laureate Daniel Kahneman, this is unlikely to spoil the overall experience.

Kahneman’s research shows that when we evaluate past experiences, we tend to remember the best moments and the last moments, paying little attention to everything else. This is known as the “peak-end rule.”

In other words, our memory of the family holiday will mostly consist of all the rituals (both joyful and silly), the good food, the presents and then hugging everyone goodbye at the end of the night (after your uncle made up with his son-in-law). And by the time you get back home, you’ll have something to look forward to for next year.

Dimitris Xygalatas does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.