#yes this is the sole reason i asked for ice cream suggestions for the party a couple of weeks ago lmao

[runninguplenorahills]

A bitchin’ summer!

Will: strawberry, Mike: cookie dough, Dustin: neapolitan, Lucas: rocky road, Max: berry mix

ice cream suggestions from:

@madwheelerz @autistic-robin @googoogagaeyes @stormcloudsoverthemountains

[songtoyou]

Chapter One: West Bridgewater

Paring: Ransom Drysdale x Fabiola Rossi (OC)

Rating: This story will mostly be rated 18+ as it is revolves around a relationship that is Dominant/submissive. For each chapter, I will do my best to rate it accordingly, but please know that the overall story will have very adult themes.

Warnings: None for this chapter

Word Count: 2,305

Description: Huge “Ransom” Drysdale always thought of himself as a powerful man. With his family’s money and status, Ransom could get away with anything. He had the power and control others would envy. Ransom could get any woman he wanted with a snap of his fingers. He was always in charge. He commanded attention. And he hated it. Never having a job in his life (thanks to his mother, father, and grandfather always there to supplement his bank account) or any real-life goals, Ransom felt incomplete and directionless. That is until Fabiola Rossi entered his life and turned it completely upside down.

A/N: I have not seen Knives Out. This is an AU of that world. I do not own any of the characters created by Rian Johnson. I have always thought of Ransom as a sub rather than a Dominant and this idea has been on my mind constantly that I needed to write it down. Anything in italics are to represent Ransom’s thoughts. 

I do not permit any of my fics to be distributed on other sites without my permission.

Updated for grammar and punctuation edits.

What is a dominant-submissive relationship all about? As mentioned previously, there is an energy dynamic between the two partners. It is the Dominant’s duty to protect and guide his or her submissive. The submissive, also called “the bottom,” relinquishes some or all control to the Dominant. He or she is playing out their own kinds and fetishes through the guidance of a Dominant. No actions or scenes can be played out unless the submissive has consented to everything the Dominant plans to do during a play session. A D/s relationship is not solely about sexual activities but exploring new and interesting ways to connect beyond sex. For example, the Dominate can set up simple rules that the submissive must follow, such as asking permission to stay out late or have ice cream for dessert. A healthy D/s relationship can lead to a life of self-improvement. 

“You got some mouth on you…I bet a ball gag would fit nicely around those pretty lips of yours.”

For some reason, Ransom could not get that comment out of his head. It was so unexpected and out of leftfield. He never had a woman said anything so bold towards him. No stranger to bondage with the opposite sex, it was always Ransom who was the one in charge. Women were more than happy for him to lead the charge. It was the only time Ransom was ever put to work, so to speak. Fabiola Rossi had managed to not only mystify the spoiled playboy, but he was not determined to find out more about her. 

So, Ransom did one any person in their mid-30s did when trying to find information about another person, he stalked her social media. He came up short. No Twitter, Facebook, or Instagram that he could find of her unless they were private.

“This is Fabiola Rossi. She is an inspiring editor herself. I have taken her under my wing as a mentor.” Ransom remembered from the night before when creepy old Charlie Van Houten introduced his grandfather and him to Fabiola. 

Of course, Fabiola had a LinkedIn page as she was a young working professional. Ransom saw that she graduated with a Bachelor of Arts in English and a minor in Psychology at Boston University. He noticed it had only been five years since she graduated from the university, so he suspected she was in her late twenties. Most of the jobs Fabiola received were internships or part-time positions. Not unusual for graduates looking to enter into the workforce. There was not much to offer due to the Baby Boomers not wanting to retire or companies being stingy with providing decent living wages or health benefits. 

“Intern. Van Houten & Thompson Publishing. March 2019 to current. Performs proofreading and editing of manuscripts and additional documents before the final publication,” Ransom read out loud as he continued to look through Fabiola’s profile.

He got up to reach for his coat to pull out his wallet. Inside was a business card of Charlie’s that he gave Ransom before leaving his grandfather’s party. Charlie told Ransom to keep in touch and that they both could talk about possibly working together. 

“If you have been working on anything, send it over. In fact, send it over to Fabiola. She’d probably love to read it and give you feedback. Give him your email address, honey. Any work you send over to her will be in great hands,” Ransom remembered Charlie saying to him last night. He looked over the business card and traced his thumb over Fabiola’s handwriting of her email address. 

He could not understand why this particular woman intrigued him so, despite only meeting her briefly the night before. However, Ransom knew he had an itch to scratch, and it was better to get it taken care of now before things got too out of hand. Before he became too obsessed.

Turning on his laptop, he waited for it to boot up. Opening his email account, Ransom began composing a new email to Fabiola. He kept it short and simple by asking if she was still up looking over what he was currently working on. 

Hi Ms. Rossi,

It was a pleasure meeting you last night. Hope you are doing well. If you are not too busy, do you mind if I send over the story I am currently working on? I do not want to impose if your schedule is too busy, but Charlie had such high praise for you, and I would appreciate the feedback and insight from you.

Talk to you soon,

Ransom 

He clicked the ‘send’ button and waited. Thankfully, he did not have to wait too long for a response back.

Hi Ransom,

I am so glad you reached out. Please call me Fabiola. 

Yes, I would be more than happy to beta read anything you send over.

Sincerely,

Fabiola

“Hook, line, and sinker,” Ransom said to himself with a smirk plastering over his face. He knew exactly which of his work he would send over. It was one Ransom had finished a while back. A story about the measures of what a mother would do to prove her child’s innocence when they are accused of a crime. It was one of his more personal pieces of work. He was somewhat anxious to get feedback on it. He sent it over to Fabiola as an attachment. Now, Ransom was in wait and see mode. ‘Who knows how long until she gets to actually reading it,’ he thought to himself. 

Three long agonizing days later, Ransom finally heard back from Fabiola when he checked his email that afternoon. 

Ransom,

How are you? 

Sorry I have not gotten back to you sooner. Your story is amazing! I could not put it down. I actually read it twice. It had me on the edge of my seat the entire time and had a lot of heart. You are such a good writer.

I do have some suggestions for you if you do not mind. However, I do not want to merely give them to you via email or comments in the document. Would it be okay if the two of us meet up for coffee sometime this week? It would be easier to talk to you about the recommendations face-to-face.

Any suggestions on where we could meet up? I don’t mind traveling to your neck of the woods if it is more convenient for you.

Fabiola

Ransom was thrilled that not only did she like his work but was willing to meet him in person. He quickly wrote her back suggesting a meeting at a little coffee shop in West Bridgewater. It would only be a 34-minute drive for Fabiola to get to him. Honestly, Ransom was a bit taken aback that she was willing to drive all the way out to the boonies to talk to him in person. 

The two decided to meet up on Saturday afternoon at The Bridge Coffee House, a new town establishment. A Starbucks it was not, thankfully.

When Saturday finally rolled around, Ransom dressed in his usual simple attire: gray cardigan, white long-sleeve shirt underneath, dark blue jeans, and Louis Vuitton black loafers. He gave himself a look over in the mirror one last time; he exited the house, got in his 1972 BMW 3.0 CSi, and headed to the coffee shop.

Once there, Ransom ordered an espresso and settled in a seat near the corner, but still visible for Fabiola to see him. As Ransom waited for Fabiola to arrive, his leg was shaking underneath the table. He was nervous, which was an unusual feeling for Ransom. Women hardly ever made Ransom nervous, but the woman he was meeting was for business, not pleasure. 

‘Note yet at least,” Ransom thought to himself as he sipped his espresso. 

The ding of the bell on the entrance door made Ransom lookup. There Fabiola was wearing a white long-sleeved fitted sweater with light blue jeans, white sneakers, and a light gray messenger bag slung over her shoulder. She looked around and noticed Ransom. Giving him a smile and wave, Fabiola made her way over to him. He stood up as she neared the table. 

“Hi. How are you?” she asked and stuck out her hand for Ransom to shake.

He reciprocated the gesture and replied, “I’m good. Do you want something to drink? My treat.”

Fabiola accepted Ransom’s offer with an iced tea. “Is there a restroom around that I could use?”

Ransom pointed to where the restrooms were, and Fabiola excused herself while he got her iced tea. Paying for the iced tea, Ransom went back to the table and proceeded to wait again. 

“That was quite a drive,” spoke Fabiola as she sat down in the seat across from Ransom, “Gorgeous scenery. I tend to not venture too far outside of Boston much.”

“Yeah, it is a nice quiet town. Not much goes on here.”

“I’m kind of surprised that you don’t choose to live in Boston. Figured you would want to be in a more urban area,” said Fabiola.

Ransom shifted in his seat to cross his legs, “I used to live in Boston during my 20s. Decided to move here a couple of years ago. Helped clear my head a little.”

Taking a sip of her iced tea, Fabiola asked, “Is that when you really began to write?”

Ransom let out a small laugh and cleared his throat, “Yeah…I just…needed a hobby to preoccupy my time.”

“Well, I have to tell you that it was a good idea,” said Fabiola as she began to rummage through her bag and pulled out a binder to place on the table.

“This story is outstanding,” she complimented.

Ransom felt the heat on his cheeks from her praise. It felt good to have someone appreciate his work, which was not a feeling he was used to. 

“I do have some questions if you don’t mind me asking? Nothing bad, just some clarifications.”

“Sure. Ask away,” Ransom responded casually. He was doing his best to not seem too eager. 

“What made you decide to have the main character a mother rather than a father? I ask that because, normally, male authors tend to write the protagonist as male. You don’t really see many male authors write crime novels with a main female character,” Fabiola pointed out and went on to tell him, “You also wrote the character really well. Like, she feels like a real person. She was fully developed and fleshed out. I was totally rooting for her throughout the whole story. And the side characters are nicely written as well. Each chapter kept the reader on its toes. You never knew what to expect. Nothing felt forced or out of place. Nothing dragged on. Here is a copy of my notes. Nothing too major. Only certain suggestions like clarification or more descriptive details for certain paragraphs.”

Ransom looked at her incredibly detailed notes. “I appreciate you doing this. Thank you,” Ransom said earnestly.  

“Do you plan on getting that published?” Fabiola asked him.

Letting out a light chuckle, Ransom told her that most likely he would not.

“Why?”

“I prefer to write for myself. Not for an audience. Plus, there is the likelihood that I’ll get compared to my grandfather or people thinking that nepotism is involved,” answered Ransom as he continued to flip through Fabiola’s notes.

Fabiola merely sat back and took the time to really look at the man before her. With dark hair and blue eyes, a strong jaw, and a somewhat crooked nose, Fabiola could not deny that he was handsome. Before the meeting, Fabiola asked Charlie about what he knew about Ransom. Boy, she got an honest earful from Charlie. While Charlie complimented Ransom, there was a hint of pity in his voice.

“He’s got so much potential, but he wastes it with booze and women. The poor boy did have a stint in rehab when he was younger. It’s so parents of his. Always giving him money instead of love and affection,” Charlie shared with Fabiola. 

 “You don’t want to fail at the one thing you believe you are actually good at,” Fabiola stated to Ransom and added, “So, it is easier to not put yourself out there in the first place.”

Scoffing, Ransom sat back and stared at Fabiola. Now it was his turn to really look at the woman before him. With her long dark hair, brown eyes, and slender figure, he had to admit to himself that she was beautiful. But he could tell that there was more to this woman than meets the eye.

“You like to think you have me all figured out, don’t you? You think I’m some poor little rich poor?” Ransom asked with a hint of defensiveness in his voice.

“Yes,” Fabiola simply said as she folded her arms to rest on the table and continued, “You’re not some riddle, Ransom. You are quite easy to figure out. Just as I mentioned to you at the party, you are bored. However, it is not the excitement that you seek. Instead, you want guidance. You want someone to look after you and care for you. You want to surrender control. Am I wrong? Tell me I’m wrong, and I’ll shut up.”

With his silence, she had her answer.

“I can give you what you need, but to do that, we need to develop trust between one another,” Fabiola communicated and reached out to grip one of Ransom’s hands. She entwined her fingers within his.

“How much?” Ransom spoke up as they looked at their entangled hands. 

Fabiola shook her head and clarified, “Nothing. I’m not proposing you sex Ransom. I’m proposing to you something completely different. What do you know about BDSM or a D/s relationship?”

[alitheamateur]

Special Delivery

Warnings: Language, because well, Colton Ritter’s mouth.

Summary: Colton Ritter hates birthdays. Always has, and was determined he always would. His wife, however, cheeky with her newlywed bright ideas, makes it her mission to change his mind with a special birthday delivery.

A/N: I swear to you, the second part of The Grind-A Wedding is coming! But, sense it doesn't seem to be falling into place as quickly as I would like, I wanted to try and spread a little reward for my readers and their patience!

(gif not mine)

Colton Ritter was a bear about birthdays.

Was it the bitter swallow of becoming another year older? The fear that with age, would come the fizzle of his talents and abilities inside the cage? Was his ego simply weak to the thoughts of balding?

The reason a mystery, the fact a definitive reality regardless.

He wouldn’t eat cake because of a convenient ‘intermittent fasting’ that I wasn’t aware of until there was suddenly birthday cake involved. I tempted him with ice cream, his favorite, from the grocery store on 5th, and nothing broke his resisting stance.

This year, with a wedding, and a current pregnant under my belt, I was inflexibly determined make him appreciate the joys of a birthday. Knowing going after his sweet tooth was a bust, I let my brain storm, and mull over other ways to get him to finally smile on the 8th of September.

His belly may have been a dead end, but I knew one thirst that Colton could never truly quench.

Me.

One avenue of enjoyment that Colt always enjoyed exploring lie between my hips, and there was no amount of fight he could put up, and win, against it.

The day arrived, and I tested the waters at breakfast with a muffin and a candle for the occasion, only for it to be disregarded altogether when he strolled straight to kiss my neck as I poured his coffee. His pouty, gorilla grunts concluded his still present resentment towards the particular day of the year. I made a call-in to the bakery near the Pilot office before he woke, asking them to wait on standby with my order for a chocolate layered cake had things turned out different at this morning.

He trucked through the front door, gym clothes and a birthday card tucked away inside his duffle, not forgetting our routine morning game of ‘grab-ass’ before he left me to ready for heading into the office.

 We could argue about the singing hallmark surprise over dinner tonight. While he nagged and grumbled about the balloon I planned to pick up on my way home.

I ended the call to the delivery service as I stepped into a hot shower, reiterating that his special birthday gift would be distributed today at 11:00 sharp, right before Colton was due to begin his kickboxing class. I was feeling less than desirable these with the stretches of our baby girl spanning over my belly, and swelling my tender breasts. Newlyweds, we were. And instead of leather garter-belts, and edible underwear, poor Colt was sleeping next to an oversized, less than new t-shirt I refused to let him throw out. He’d never go a day without asserting in every way possible that no matter what condition, my body only furthermore secured my goddess-status in his opinion. The lovemaking was, is, it’s, well clearly, there aren’t enough inappropriate words to illustrate what he does to me beneath the sheets of our bed. But, if a woman doesn’t see it, feel it herself that she’s marvelous, no amount of fervent praises can suffice.

So, this year, I’d give a gift to my newly crowned husband, with every intent to reinvent a love for birthdays, and maybe remind myself that I was fierce. The fiercest in all the land, and the fiend starring Colton Ritter’s wet dreams for the next 75 years.

I twiddled through the copy of an office memo brought to my desk this morning at least 32 times, never absorbing a single line of its contents. Rattling with the clock on my desk, I fiddled with the big hand, checking that it wasn’t indeed frozen in time for the last hour of work. I couldn’t get anything done, eager and dizzy with the apprehensive exhilaration for 11 o’clock to arrive, and Colton’s gift fall into his hands. I reminded the lady from my call this morning repeatedly that only Colton Ritter be responsible, no ifs, ands, or buts.  

  Colton

I hated these fuckin’ birthdays, damn it. I didn’t have a reason. It wasn’t about some suppressed scarring from my childhood because my parents never threw parties, or got me presents. As a matter of fact, Ma went all out with the stupid streamers, and the singing middle-aged men dressed in superhero costumes smelling like vodka. Something in me just hated the reminder that my life was drawing closer to an end. Especially now, since I actually liked the one I had. The one with Livvy, and little my Livvy, due in a few months.

And of course, the evil little minx had to go and remind everyone down at 21 Punches what today was, including Mac who led the stupid birthday song before the door had even shut behind me this morning.

Liv had been a little deflated this morning when I brushed off her subtle hints that she wanted to celebrate the day for me, and the more I stewed on it, the bigger my head grew into a dick. Maybe with her at my side, now as my wife, I should give this whole thing I try? I never want to be the reason her sideways smile fades again.

Just as I was about to tuck my phone into my desk drawer after sending her an apology text for the less-than-grateful behavior earlier, someone rapped a knock on my unlatched office door. I pulled the handle to, confused at the sight of a post-man standing in waiting, and even more confused at the large package tucked under his arm.

“Hey man. You could’ve left that at the front desk, no need for you to carry this shit across the building,” I signed his chipped clipboard.

“Special orders that this be delivered solely into your possession, Mr. Ritter. Have a good one, sir.”

I felt along the hard edges of the package, gently molding my hand around its shape to make sure it wasn’t some gag from one of the fighters on roster for my birthday. There was a tag dangling off the red bow, and I pulled the paper loose, careful to close the door behind me before I opened what was inside.

Happy Birthday, old man.

You only get better with age, my love!

Just a little something for you to look at….

X

Liv

Beautiful, stubborn, and persistent, she was.

I smiled, the way I always do when Liv wrangles me by the balls and just does whatever she damn well pleases whether I like it or not. The crisp paper was neatly creased at the four corners, secured with too much scotch tape for my patience, or lack thereof. So, I simply tore through the middle, short on time, and short on amusement with whatever Liv was playing at.

The image seemed abstract, or obscured initially, but I thought somewhere hidden in the black and white mess I saw long, blonde hair… Shifting the canvas, and tossing the paper in the can of trash beside my desk, my teeth gnawed suddenly.

My eyes instantly alert, and aware at the image before me, and my cock seeming to bust up in and all out hard-on without warning. The slight haze from sunshine beating through the window she looked to, made her glow. White light snuck into every curve of her body, except for the round, need-to-be-bitten curve of her perfect backside, barely covered by the taut lace of her bodysuit lingerie. Her veil grazed the silken, flushed flesh of her arms, and her hair at perfect length hid her angelic face. I touched the picture, wishing I could brush it back and see the soft look of slight, bashful pink on her cheeks, and that heart-shaped gap between her swollen lips. She was an angel caught in front of a lens, with every intention to drag me to the sinful, tight darkness between her thighs. 

This, is how I want to always remember her. Draped in white, goosebumps mounting across her rose-smelling skin, bare. The image captured the essence of where every light in my life came from.

I was moved by the innocence of her sweet, almost timid, oblivious sexiness in front of me. But, the way she was mounted on both of her knees, eyes down like she was waiting to be taken by a dangerous, lethal storm like myself, motivated my insides to painfully pump. Refusing to turn loose of the picture, I searched blindly inside my desk for my cell.

“Hey, birthday boy…” She impishly chided. As if her intent to drive me off the fucking wall with this little delivery of hers wasn’t already clear, the way I could hear her biting her lip as she fiddled with her keyboard secured my assumptions.

“Hey yourself, you little troublemaker.”

Fuck. The giggles… Her laugh was connected with every muscle of control over my dick.

“Troublemaker? I have no absolute idea what you could possibly be referring to, husband of mine.”

“No? So, some other delicious blonde in Pittsburgh with ass for days sent over this glorious fuckin’ photo sitting on my desk right now?”

I heard her gasp as if someone could eavesdrop on the awful things I said to her.

“Okay. Maybe I had a little something to do with that.”

“Oh, I know that for certain, baby. I’ve seen those hands wrapped around me enough to recognize ‘em.”

“Colton Ritter! You know, they say the baby can hear inside the womb. Your poor daughter...” Liv squealed, words on the cusp of a whisper.

“Then I suggest we buy some ear buffs to put over your little belly tonight. I wouldn’t want our girl to hear all the awful things I’m going to have her mommy screamin’.”

“Happy birthday, you sex-crazed pig.”

“I can’t help it my wife is smokin’. And Livvy?” I questioned to her.

“Yes?”

“Thank you. This birthday thing may not be so bad after all now that you’re around.”

TAGS: @miidailyinspiration @torialeysha @mollybegger-blog @eap1935 @littleluna98

[fallen029]

Parenthood: Beach Retreat.7

"It's so weird to think about, isn't it?"

"What's that?"

"How we never had this. And if we did, there's a good chance we wouldn't be together now."

Mirajane only stared across the table at her husband, grinning at him slightly. They were out on one of their very few dates and, as with most, he felt the need to bring that up.

"Lax," she giggled slightly. "We did have this. We went out on dates."

"No." He even shook his head. "Not for more than an hour or two, because we had to get back to Nate. And even then, we weren't doing so great. Everything was rushed. And we already had a kid, so it wasn't like we could take time to really get to know one another."

"We knew each other already. For years."

"Not in a relationship way and you know it."

Never one to like when he said these sorts of things, Mira only shrugged. "I liked it better the way that it was."

"Why?"

"Because, Lax," she giggled. "If it wasn't for Nate being there, forcing us to be together, we never would have been. Or even tried. And we definitely wouldn't have stayed together those first few months. He was the sole reason that we even started dating. You were a jerk before him. I would have never dated you. Or even thought about it."

He gave her a wry smile. "Thanks."

"You know what I mean." Grinning as well, though less sardonically as usual, she added, "Besides, dragon, you were never into me either."

"Oh, no, I was," he assured her. "Very much."

"Not exclusively."

"You got me there."

"Besides," she went on. "What difference does it make how we got here? I'm just glad that we are."

Shrugging, he pushed the rest of his plate of fries across the table to her, knowing she'd end up taking them if he did so or not. It was only lunch anyhow; he was totally going to be keeping dinner for himself.

Mainly by only ordering things that he knew she wouldn't want.

It was the only way, really.

"Mmmm," Mira hummed as he only took to looking around the place. That was just a trait he couldn't shake. Laxus was always on the lookout for potential threats. "What do you wanna do after this?"

"I dunno," he said with a shrug. "We got ice cream, went for a walk around the town, and now are eating lunch. Anything else you wanna do? Shop a bit? Or something?"

"Or something."

"It's whatever you want, demon," he insisted as she dug right into his fries. "Your day, huh? All day."

Mira was more than down with that. And Laxus was too. Begrudgingly, but still down.

Nathan and Pike? Not so much.

"Will she come home now?" the oldest of all the boys asked as his Aunt Lisanna made him and the others some lunch. Freed was helping too. "I miss her."

"Nathan," Lisanna complained as she cut Pike's sandwiches into pieces and his and Mace's in two. "You're too big to whine like this."

"I'm not," he said. "I was just asking."

"Get out from under my feet," was all she said as he and Mace continually rammed their toy cars literally into her feet. "I mean it."

"Leave Lisanna alone," Freed chided from where he was chopping lettuce over at the table as well as tomatoes and onions. "You are both extra annoying today."

No. It was more that they were all having to take on the burdens that Mira faced every day and they did not like them. Not one bit.

Pike was spending his time trying not to panic and keeping Gramps from falling asleep. Naptime was after lunch those days. Someone had forgotten to inform the old man about this though.

"G'amps," he complained, banging his little fists against the pages of the large children's book the elderly man was reading from. "Wake!"

"Huh?" Groggily, Makarov groaned as he opened his eyes to find himself still sitting in the den of the massive house Ever had scored them, apparently reading to his youngest grandson. Blinking, he mumbled, "I'm up, I'm up."

"Read, G'amps." Pike snuggled back against him. "Not sleep."

"I wasn't."

Hn.

"Let's see here," the man went on as he glanced over the page. Turning it, he said, "Ah. See, Pike? The little puppy is just running into some other dogs. I remember that. Because I didn't fall asleep."

Sure.

Settling out in his lap once more, the little boy only waited to have his story finished and then some lunch and finally a nap. Then hopefully Mommy would come back. Daddy too. Then they could play together. It'd make the day, not great, but acceptable.

Because being left alone without the two of them just wasn't. Acceptable, that is. At all.

Why they all couldn't just stay together forever and never have to go anywhere at all and ruin their perfect family bond that they all had no matter what anyone thought especially Nathan when he got into one of his moods was just beyond Pike.

Completely.

"Don't do that, Pike."

So was why picking your nose was so bad.

"No," he complained when his grandfather forced him to take his finger out of his nostril. "G'amps, no!"

"You blow your nose if you have to."

"No!"

"Stop it. Are you grumpy?"

"No!"

Maybe a little.

"Or are you just hungry?"

"No!"

Definitely a lot.

That was what was great about Gramps though. He didn't reprimand Pike when he got loud and yelled. The only time that he really got in trouble was when he hit or bit. Other than that, he was pretty much free to do as he pleased. The man was awesome that way.

Lunch went okay. Nate and Mace were distracted mostly by Elfman and Bickslow, who spent the duration of it arguing while Pike mostly just took to feeding his Aunt Ever her lunch. She was never much one for this sort of thing, but if it kept the child from crying, she would suffer.

Nate and Mace were to the age where naps weren't important and, after lunch, sent Pike off for his as they took to begging Elfman to let them go down to the beach.

"Really?" he asked, almost shocked. "You've gone to the beach every day this week. You're still interested in-"

"Yes!"

Of course. They still hadn't tracked down that treasure.

Lisanna and Freed easily shifted watching duties onto Ever (who needed to tan anyways) and Elfman, leaving them alone in the house with the sleeping Makarov and Pike as well as the very rambunctious Bickslow. And the latter would not be taking a nap. Not for anything.

"I," he declared to his best friend and girlfriend once they were by themselves in the game room, "have something to announce."

"Announce!" his wooden babies proclaimed. "Announce!"

Freed, who was setting up the balls for a rousing game of pool, hardly glanced up. "Please do so quietly. Pike is napping."

"Downstairs," Lisanna pointed out from where she was lounging on the couch in the room, flipping through a magazine.

"Still," the letter mage insisted. "Sometimes it is better safe than-"

"I," Bickslow kept up, standing more over Lisanna and speaking to her mostly while ignoring Freed than anything else, "have secured us something to make today even more perfect."

"Perfect? Is that what today was?" Lisanna hummed, hardly glancing at him. "I was thinking more dull and boring, but what's the point of being with someone if they don't see things a bit differently than you?"

"Stripes," Freed called out to the seith then, still thinking they were going to have a game of billiards. Yeah, right. Bickslow was schmoozing his woman at the moment, pool be damned.

"Would you just let me talk?" the man grumbled, glaring from Lisanna to Freed. Without his visor on, he always looked a little odd to his green haired friend, but unbelievably attractive to his girlfriend. Not a hard decision when it came to the mask around the house. Off. Always off. "Jeez."

"What is it, Bicks?" Lisanna sighed, moving to sit up some and drop the magazine. It was dated anyways. "Huh?"

Huffing, he took a moment before saying, "I think that the only way to have any real fun around here is to what? Huh?"

"Kick you out of the house?'

"Get rid of the kids," Bickslow said, ignoring Freed's suggestion. "No vacation's fun with kids. I mean, sure, I like the little runts, but-"

"You can't be serious," Lisanna complained. "I mean-"

"I agreed, actually," Freed said as he just went on with the game himself, figuring Bickslow could join him when he finished being foolish.

"Really?" The seith turned to grin at him. "You do?"

"Yes. Your dolls have always annoyed me."

Bickslow growled then, but not loud enough to drown out Lisanna's giggles.

"I wasn't talking about them and you know it!"

"How could you possibly know what I knew when I said something that I clearly didn't know?"

"Don't try to confuse me, dude! You know exactly what I meant and you totally know it."

"As I previously stated how could you possibly know what I knew when-"

"Okay, okay," Lisanna intervened, sighs taking over her giggles. "Knock it off."

They were glaring at one another then and the last thing she wanted was some sort of battle between the two of them.

"How would we even get rid of the kids?" she prompted. "Bicks? Huh? I mean-"

"With Ever, of course," he insisted, turning his attention back to her. "She's the other one that's driving the enjoyment down around here. Her and Gramps. Master is great, but come on."

Rolling his eyes, Freed went back to his game though he did say, "What good would any of that do? Mira would fret the entire time over the children, Laxus would be annoyed that she was fretting over them, Elfman would be worried about Ever watching young children because, of course, that would be warranted, you would be annoying as always, and Lisanna would be- Do not glare at me, Lisanna. I was merely going to say that you would just go along with Bickslow because you always go along with Bickslow."

She couldn't fight him on that one. She did, however, sit back and try to think up a way to.

With her distracted, Bickslow took over.

"I've thought about this before, bro," he said simply, walking over to the pool table then as his babies took to landing on Lisanna and the couch around her, giving her comfort in her deep thinking. "Why do all our parties fail? Hmmm? For all of those same reasons. Other than, like, Ever watching kids. We never let that happen for a reason."

"Not for long periods of time at least," Freed agreed. "We rather like them alive, I've found. And not lost."

"The biggest one though," Bickslow continued, "is the boss."

"The boss?"

"The boss! Laxus!" He even nodded his head when Freed shook his head. "Yes. I know you won't believe it-"

"Never. So do not try to force me to."

"-but it's true," the seith insisted. "Laxus is a real hard person to please. Honestly, I don't know how Mira does it. I'm thinking a lot of blows and telling him what a good dragon he is because he really likes that last one and I'm just guessing on that first one, but-"

"I tuned back in on the completely wrong portion of this," Lisanna remarked from the couch. "But please stop talking about my sister in that way. Thanks, babe."

"Of course, babe."

"Double thanks, babe."

"You're welcome, babe."

"Babe, you're really killing me with these babes."

"Sorry, ba-"

"Could we," Freed complained, "stop with the madness? How Mira pleases Laxus is of no one's business."

"I'm really leaning towards those blows that," Bickslow kept up. "And I think anal. What do you guys think?"

"Not at all," Lisanna said with a blink. "About that. Ever."

"Oh, no, she doesn't do that. I mean, could you imagine-"

"Bickslow," Freed groaned. "What is it that you were trying to tell us? Huh?"

"Oh." He snickered then, reaching up to rub at his Mohawk. "No, I's just gonna say that we gotta keep the boss happy, you know? To have a good time? Because if Laxus is happy then he won't hound on making Mira happy and it'll give her a chance to actually be happy and then she'll make Lissy happy which will keep me happy and stop me from bothering Evergreen and keep her alright which means Elfman will be alright and Freed, dude, if we keep Laxus happy enough, maybe you could keep him please. You know what I mean?"

"I know that you're about to get kicked out of this room," Lisanna said as Freed's eyes darkened and he looked ready to remind the seith of his place. "And that is sorta my sister's husband. I feel like we have to keep going over this. Stop talking about my brother or sister or the people they're with having sex or anything close to sex. Please. It's really awkward. I think we've done a good job of it recently, but you just keep sliding back into it-"

"Well, you didn't like me being mature before," he complained. "What? Am I supposed to just figure this stuff out on my own?"

"I don't know, Bicks, but-"

"What," Freed said, eyes still locked in a glare, "is your plan to loosen Laxus up? Hmmm? Can we just get to that?"

"Oh." Rooting around then, the man produced a baggie from his pocket, holding it up proudly. "I didn't find any fireworks, but when you stopped into that shop to use the bathroom a few days ago, Lissy, I ran into a guy that sold me some shit. I got some other stuff too. And man! Boss'll lose his-"

"His shit," Lisanna finished with a frown. "Laxus will lose his shit when he finds out that you have drugs in the same house as his kids."

"What? Nah. I-"

"Boom goes the dynamite." Freed grinned then, as it was almost the perfect revenge for the comment the seith had made before. "When Laxus hears that you've had-"

"What is the big deal?" Bickslow seemed nervous then, his excitement fading as he took to just walking around the room. "It ain't like I'm doing anything around his boys. Right? Right?"

"Hmmm," his friend hummed. "If I know Laxus like I do, he won't see it that way at all."

"Or Mira," Lisanna agreed with a frown. "I mean, Bicks, I know that sometimes you don't get it, but they're really strict about their kids."

Glaring up at her then, he said, "Oh, so what? You don't want any then?"

"Are you stupid? Of course."

"You don't even know what he has," Freed grumbled with a frown. "And Laxus will yell at you just as much for…for… Whatever it is that the two of you are planning to doing with that stuff-"

Bickslow snickered again finally. "Bro, you sound so old."

"And you sound foolish," the other man challenged. "What? Recreational drug use in a house that Ever's friend is kindly letting us use that Laxus, who treats his body like a temple, also is allowing his sons and grandfather to stay in sounds like a wonderful idea, Bickslow. You're so intelligent. Why does no one brag on you for being intelligent? Hmmm?"

His face dropped right back down. "You're not funny, bro."

"And you're not eighteen. Grow up."

"You grow up. You stupid-"

"What is with you guys?" Lisanna complained as Pappa, who was in her lap, took to making loud noises, as he usually did when someone was arguing. None of the babies liked that. Not when it was two people they cherished as much as their papa and Freed. "You've been at each other since we got up here. What? Have you been spending too much time together or something?"

Or something.

"Oh, hey, I know," she kept up. "Are you guys, like, drifting away from one another? Is your friendship in crisis? Man, this feels like something Mira would love."

The two guys weren't joking like she was though and only looked off. Slowly, Freed went back to setting up a shot and Bickslow walked over to where the movies for a movie lacrima sat, glancing through them.

When the two of them fought, it was never fun. For anyone. Settling back into the back, mindful of the wooden dolls up there with her, Lisanna picked back up her magazine to wait it out. She knew it wouldn't take long.

"I just," Bickslow mumbled after a few minutes off pure silence, save the sound of the balls on the pool table smashing into one another, "thought it'd be fun. For us to all get together, smoke a few, laugh, kick back, not have Ever hounding us, or the kids bothering us. That's all."

"And I just," Freed added, "think it was in poor taste. All of it. Your entire behavior recently."

Again, silence befell them. Then, slowly, Bickslow shrugged.

"It's a lot of weight, man," he said simply.

"What is?"

"Having to be entertaining. You guys are all so boring that it all falls on me."

Lisanna figured it was a guy moment or something stupid and kept her two cents out of it. Besides, the look Freed was giving him at that comment pretty much summed up everything she wanted to say.

"I do not think," the letter mage said simply, "that anyone has ever asked you to be the entertainment. Nor would they."

"What do you mean? I'm plenty entertaining!"

"Sure."

"I am," he argued. "What? If I'm not the entertaining one in the group, who is?"

"I fancy myself as pretty-"

"Freed."

"What?" the man stifled. "I'll have you know that Mira tells me that I'm plenty-"

"Dude, Mira finds ants entertaining."

"It's true." Lisanna couldn't help herself from chiming in then, glancing up from her magazine. "She also thinks that beetles are just amazing. They have their own personalities. She swears by that."

Still, Freed said, "I see ourselves set up in many subgroups, as it is."

"Meaning?" Bickslow prompted, not liking the direction of the conversation at all.

"Meaning that there is no one person that is always plays a single role," he said simply. "When it is just Laxus and I, he entertains me."

"You're really setting yourself up for the jokes there, Freed," Lisanna commented, going back to her magazine. "I mean even I have a few."

"Then, when it is Mira, Laxus, and I," he continued, ignoring her wholly. "She entertains us both."

"Lissy's right, man," Bickslow insisted. "So many. So, so many."

"Then when you factor you and Lisanna into that equation," he kept up, still determined to block them out. "I feel as if there is no one entertainer. There are usually so many things going on all at once that none of us can focus on only one. And when you add in Ever and Elfman, well, they almost demand attention with their constant bickering. And you and Lisanna are not much help, the way that you both insist on being utterly annoying-"

"Uh, that's the entertainment," Bickslow argued. "You're getting it confused is all."

"No." Freed had no play in his tone. "I am not."

"Bro-"

"Stop…saying those words to me." He shook his head. "I am not saying that your role is a serious one, but to think that it is still the same after all these years, regardless of whether it is as an annoyance or as entertainment isn't the main issue."

"Then what is?"

"That you think that it has stayed the same throughout the years is astounding and asinine. We have all grown up. You especially. To think that you still have to get high to feel good about yourself or your relationship with any of us is just pathetic. We're better than that. You're better than that. At least I thought you were." He took a shot then, one that wasn't too good and made him sigh. His concentration was shot. "Then again, considering that Lisanna was more than on board, I have a feeling you two never cut down any on your usage of such things anyways."

"We all have vices," Lisanna challenged when Bickslow stayed silent. "You still do Laxus' bidding like he's a god. You haven't gotten out of that."

"I do not think of his as a literal god."

"Dude," Bickslow said. "Seriously."

"I don't," he defended. "I only think that if there was a man who might be considered as a god, if our society d to that point, then I would definitely-"

"Please, just stop," Lisanna begged. "Please."

"You two are the ones that brought it up," Freed defended. "Do not seek my opinions if you do not wish to have them."

Again, a moment or two passed when they all just looking between one another. Freed took another shot, Lisanna flipped a page, and Bickslow finished with the movies.

"You're not completely unentertaining," Freed offered up finally, glancing over at his friend. "Perhaps not my choice, but surely others. I think that Elfman finds you…interesting. And Lisanna clearly enjoys you."

"Yeah." The seith glanced over at her and their eyes locked for a moment. "She thinks I'm pretty great."

"Someone has to," she mumbled. "And I think your babies are beginning to tire of the job."

"What? Nah."

"Definitely."

"Definitely," the wooden dolls all mimicked. "Papa."

Bickslow only huffed. "They're just confused is all."

"Sure, Bicks. That's it."

That time when they were all silent, it wasn't so bad. Lisanna went back to her magazine, Bickslow went to pick up a pool stick, and Freed didn't mind disregarding his game without a single word. He and Bickslow were so in sync when they weren't fighting that there was no need. They'd spent enough time together that they could practically read one another's actions before they occurred.

Mirajane and Laxus had that too. That synced up thing.

Most of the time anyways.

That day they seemed a tad off. At least they were where it counted. Or maybe Mira just refused to pick up on the signal he was putting out. Either way, she was rather shocked when she learned about how, fine, most of the day and evening were for her, but the ending definitely was not.

"-think we should head back," Mira told him before they even got to dinner. Hardly even after lunch, really. They were that bored together. Huh. "I mean, we can still be together back at the house, huh? We can make the others still keep the boys and we can go sit down at the beach together or maybe try the hot tub again-"

"We're not going back to the beach house, demon."

"O-Oh, Lax, did you think that I meant that I wasn't having fun?" His tone didn't hint at that, but she had a bad feeling that he was just masking it. The two had taken to walking around town again, after shopping turned up that she wanted nothing (shocking as that was), and Laxus had his arm thrown over her shoulders, but that wasn't too unusual. At all. "Because I am. This has been great. Really. I just-"

"No, demon," he grumbled, glancing down at her. "I meant we're not going back there tonight. At all."

"We're not?"

"Nope." He even shook his head. "I rented us a room, yeah? At the motel up the road. I mean, it's not my normal quality, but-"

"Laxus, are you serious?"

Now Mirajane, she was not a tone hider. Not when she was mad, anyways. And boy, he could tell that she was peeved.

"What?" He held down a groan as she came to a stop there in the middle of the sidewalk, forcing him to do the same. "Demon-"

"What are we going to be doing, Laxus? Huh? Back at this motel?"

"Mira-"

"Pretty presumptuous of you to think that we would-"

"That my wife, after I take her out to a nice lunch and an ever nicer dinner, if you'd have let me get to that, would want to go back somewhere to, like, at least bang a little. So sorry. Many pardons."

She only narrowed her eyes at him before saying, "I told Pike and Nate that I would be back soon."

"Tomorrow is soon."

"Laxus."

"I mean compared to, like, three tomorrows-"

"We're going home. Now."

"Mirajane-"

"Go to your hotel room, Lax," she said as she started walking again and, with a groan, he followed. "Have a nice nights rest and-"

"I've just been tense, alright?" He rushed to put his arm back around her shoulders. "Really stressed. And I know what's happening when we get back home with Gramps and-"

"Shush."

"Mira-"

"We're not going to talk about that." She glared up at him then. "Not until we speak with him. Nothing's final."

No. It was. Since a few months ago when Mirajane decided that, if they were even going to think about another baby, they needed to start looking at purchasing a home, he knew his life was over. Mainly because Makarov was, of course, only getting older. And more senile. It didn't take long for Mira to mention to him that, if their house was roomy enough (or not), she wanted the old man to come live with them.

Which would be a battle, Laxus knew. One that he really didn't want to fight. If Makarov came to him and said that he needed help, of course Laxus would offer it. But he would always be too prideful for that.

But that was why they had Mira in their lives, he figured. She was there to take care of them. And it wasn't fair for her, he knew, to constantly having to make the trek back and forth from the apartment to Makarov's place. When the man finally did retire, she'd have to do even more as he wouldn't be going up to the guild as often, forcing her to make more trips to his place to check in on him.

It would be better, if he moved in with them.

Laxus just knew that Makarov would never see it that way. Never. He'd never needed anyone and he was sure that he never thought that he would. Mira though was big on family and, Laxus was nearly certain, if she could swing it, she'd have them all living on one big compound with her creepy siblings and the Thunder Legion and, hell, probably Erza, Natsu, Lucy, the Exceeds, and every freaking one else too.

His woman was a little loony, but given her upbringing, he figured it came with the territory.

Honestly, he was trying hard to figure out just what Mira was planning as far as the new baby went. Surely the woman didn't think that they could juggle living with two young boys, an aging dog, and a decrepit (and kinda pervy) old man all while they were trying to get pregnant again.

Then again, it was Mirajane. She probably would even add a cat to the mix if she could.

Lord, if there was any idea he wanted to keep her (and the boys) away from…

"Yeah, well, we don't got many more days out here," the man grumbled slightly as he followed her along. "And you know as well as I do that if there's ever a time to corner him about it-"

"I'm getting to it, Laxus."

"Yeah, well-"

"You know as well as I do that it'll hurt him." Her annoyed tone dropped then and it became softer. Losing her glare, she said, "He'll think that we think that he can't take care of himself anymore."

"He can't half the time," Laxus said simply. "And-"

"And I know that. And he knows that. But he won't want to admit that."

Yeah. Laxus knew. The old man had always taught him to know when defeat was imminent, but the geezer seemed to forget how to follow his own advice somewhere along the way. If it was up to him, he'd let the old guy live alone as long as possible, but as he'd learned from the start with getting involved with Mirajane, it wasn't up to him. From keeping Nate onward, Mira'd been in control.

Sometimes he just liked to delude himself into thinking otherwise. That was all.

Hence the reason he was being led back home instead of to a motel room to fuck like rabbits with his woman.

Ugh.

Mira was lucky she was perfect. Otherwise there might've been a few problems.

"We just love him," she decided after a moment or two of silence. Swallowing, she said, "And he can hate it, he can hate me, but we love him. And he needs us right now. After all he's done for us, we owe it to him."

Letting out a long breath, Laxus only leaned down and nuzzled his head against.

"Yeah," he agreed softly against her white locks. "We do."

"Mmmm." She was relaxing again. He could just tell. Then she had to go and say, "And you owe it to our sons not to try and whisk me away without warning them first. They're fragile."

"And you're psychotic."

Perhaps. But no matter what he said, she knew he liked it.

And he did.

A lot.

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Celebration Ideas 80th Birthday party Gathering Disk operating system And Carry out n'ts For A.

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[maple-keenes]

@bmcfemslashweek

There was something to be said about that day, far too sunny and bright for Chloe’s taste. Not enough sadness in the air. Jenna insisted it was better. Less movie-esque.

It didn’t really matter. The fact that there were birds singing wasn’t gonna change the fact that Brooke was dead.

Chloe barely remembered that it was… that day. Her mind was desperately trying to pretend like everything was okay. That Brooke was still by her side.

Michael and Christine weren’t there, but Rich confirmed they hadn’t moved from his and Michael’s couch since the accident. Survivors’ guilt, something or other. As much as Chloe says she doesn’t blame them, that there was no way they could have predicted it, her subconscious kept telling her it was their fault. That maybe if Christine and Brooke had switched seats, or if the car had hit on Michael’s side, she’d still have Brooke.

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to put that upon Rich, though. Lord knows how much the poor guy had had to deal with. So she stayed silent as her dad recounted all the great things Brooke had done, all the people that would miss her. They had tried to get Chloe to speak, saying that her girlfriend should get to say something, but Chloe just shook her head numbly.

“Chloe?” Jenna nudged her shoulder. “We can go home if you want.”

Chloe shook her head. She was determined to make it through the funeral.

“Chloe, you don’t have to. It’s pretty obvious this hurts.” Jenna rested her hand on Chloe’s leg.

“I - “

“Hm?”

“Can we go home?” Chloe said in a small voice.

“Of course.”

Jenna and Chloe stood up, Jenna leading Chloe out of the place.

“Chloe, I know this is really hard on you -”

“Jenna, I don’t wanna talk.” Chloe snapped. “Just… you know where my house is.”

Jenna shut up. “Yeah. I’ll drive you home.”

Chloe sighed. “Thanks.”

They rode home in silence, Chloe desperately trying to keep from crying. Just until you get home, she thought. Only ten more minutes.

Jenna pulled up at Chloe’s house. “Your parents home?”

“No, t-they’re not. They - aren’t usually.”

“Do you want me to come in?”

“Y-yeah. If that’s alright, I m-mean.”

Jenna blinked a couple times, as if shocked. “Yeah. I can do that.”

They walked inside, the tears stinging at Chloe’s eyes.

“Chlo, do you want some food or something?”

“Y-yeah. Can you check if there’s any ice cream?” She sniffled. “I’ll be up in my room.”

“Mhmm.” Jenna made her way over to the freezer. Chloe sprinted up the stairs, ran into her room, and slammed the door. She collapsed on her bed, sobs racking her body.

“Why? Why her? What did I do? What did I ever do?” Chloe cried. “How do I make it stop?”

She glanced at the stupid acetone stain on her carpet. “And why didn't we ever try and get that out?”

You couldn't! Tried for hours, we did.

“What the hell… is that Brooke’s ghost?”

A blonde girl shimmered into existence and smiled. No. That would be stupid. More like a physical representation of your grief.

“Because that makes perfect sense.”

Not-Brooke glared at her. It's a side effect of the SQUIP, I believe.

“The what?”

The SQUIP. The night of the play? I'm technically a SQUIP. But as soon as I complete my goal of getting you over Brooke, I'll disappear.

“I doubt I'll ever be over Brooke.”

Not-Brooke grinned. Not over her death… I exist solely to get you over her love.

“That makes literally no sense.”

Well, fuck you, Chloe.

“I'm not -” She thought for a second. “Am I allowed to turn you off?”

Of course. Though I'd keep crying as Jenna gets here. Not-Brooke winked and flickered out.

Chloe rolled her eyes, and grabbed a box of tissues. She turned her mirror towards herself. “Stupid puffy eyes.”

Brooke used to tease her about that.

Puffy eyes, don't you cry, I'll dry your tears and help you smile, if I'm not mistaken.

“Didn't I turn you off?”

Well, yes, but I can turn myself back on fairly easily. Not-Brooke laughed, a slightly metallic sound. Wanna see what else I can do?

“Wait - “

Tear ducts activate.

Chloe started to cry.

Jenna knocked on the closed door. “Chlo? Do you want me to come in?”

“Y-yeah!” Chloe called through the mostly-SQUIP-induced tears.

Jenna opened the door and set the bowl of ice cream on Chloe’s vanity. She sat down next to Chloe. “Are you alright?”

“I-I'm fine.”

“Chloe, you have every right not to be fine.” She paused. “Is it okay if I hug you?”

“Y-yeah, sure.”

Jenna put her arms around Chloe, and Chloe buried her face in Jenna's shoulder and kept crying.

“Shh, shh, it's okay.”

“Jen, it's not okay, she's dead, she's fucking dead, and - “ Chloe’s throat felt like it was closing up.

“Chloe, Chloe, it's gonna be alright.”

Keep crying. It's helping.

“You can go fuck yourself, not-Brooke.” Chloe thought. “My girlfriend's death is none of your business.”

Chloe, there's a reason I took the form of Brooke. I am here to help you. If you keep crying, Jenna will be able to help you.

“Chloe?” Jenna let go of her. “Do you want me to leave?”

“Don't leave!” Chloe blurted. “I mean, please stay.”

Smooth.

“Shut up.” She thought.

“I won't leave…” Jenna looked confused. “Are you alright?”

“No, but… I will be. Someday.”

“it's okay to cry all through today. You'll get back on your feet tomorrow.”

Chloe sniffled. “Thanks, Jen.”

“Alright. What was your favorite thing you ever did with Brooke?”

Accessing memories.

“The hell?” Chloe thought.

I can access your memories and give you memory of things you had forgotten about, like, say… eighth grade dance?

Chloe smiled a little bit. “One of my favorites… our eighth grade dance. I was supposed to go with Jake, but he didn't show up. Brooke, she found me crying in the bathroom and comforted me. We ended up ditching the dance and getting Pinkberry. Walked all the way there in our nice dresses and heels. It was one of the best nights of my life.” Chloe rubbed her eyes. “We stayed there until it closed. Brooke’s house was too far away, so she slept over at my house. Her parents were so mad, but… we didn't care.”

“That's so sweet.” Jenna laughed. “Any more?”

Not-Brooke made a face like she was thinking. Sophomore year. Jake’s basketball game.

“Oh god… when Jake and I were dating, in sophomore year, he asked me to go to one of his basketball games. I was kind of scared to go alone, so I invited Brooke, and we talked through the whole game. I forgot what I was there for, honestly.”

Senior year. The day you asked her out.

Chloe took a shaky breath. The memories were getting a little bit closer to home, but she was determined to tell them. “The day I asked her out… she and I had gotten into a fight about something that seems so stupid now, but at the time, she was really mad. I stormed over to her house and tried to talk it out, and it ended in a screaming match. Eventually, she broke down, and… well, the rest is history.”

The night of the party.

“And how could I forget that last night? First kiss… the best memory.”

Jenna laughed. “I can't believe… how close you two were.” Something about the way she trailed off led Chloe to believe that wasn't what she had planned to say.

“Yeah.”

“I'm so sorry.”

“What did you do?”

Jenna laughed bitterly. “Well, it was my idea to have her ride with Christine and Michael, wasn’t it? Some suggestion about keeping the lovebirds apart.”

“Oh, Jen…”

“Hey, I bet you’re telling yourself the same thing.”

“I am, but still…”

“Chloe.” Jenna forced a smile. “You did nothing wrong.”

“I guess not…”

“Let’s just… enjoy each other’s company for now.”

“Yeah.”

They sat on Chloe’s bed for a while, Chloe crying off and on, and Jenna occasionally comforting her. Eventually, Jenna didn’t let go and she held her until both girls were almost asleep. It came very close to feeling like one of the many times she’d shared with Brooke, and… maybe she didn’t have to go through this alone.