valerie

Juniper stood just beyond the spill of light from the main ballroom. She was dressed in a tailored charcoal suit that screamed quiet authority. She had organized this entire gala, every detail from the seating chart to the vintage champagne. She let Catherine’s apology hang in the air for a long, deliberate beat, one perfectly arched eyebrow lifting. "Why exactly are you apologising?" She took a slow drag from her cigarette, then tapped ash into a discreet crystal tray on the nearby ledge. "You shouldn’t throw that word out so fleetingly. It cheapens the currency." Only then did she extend her hand. "Juniper Armstrong. I orchestrated this little circus tonight." Her gaze swept over Catherine once more, taking in the subtle signs of exhaustion beneath the practiced poise. A faint, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Not having fun?" She released the handshake but didn’t step back. "Most people would kill for an invitation. Yet here you are, hiding in the shadows with me." Her tone dripped with dry amusement.

Juniper listened without interrupting, the faintest flicker of surprise crossing her features at how quickly Catherine spiraled into paranoia about headlines and perceptions. Still, her expression remained largely unreadable. She took another slow drag from her cigarette, the ember glowing brighter for a moment before she exhaled a thin stream of smoke to the side. "I doubt they would," she said dryly, her voice smooth as silk, "and even if they did… would it matter?" She studied Catherine for a moment longer, taking in the way she caressed her own arm. A small, elegant shrug followed. "Only the ones that matter." Then Catherine expressed surprise at not having heard her name before, and Juniper’s lips curved into the ghost of a wry smile. "And I’d prefer to keep it that way." The corporate world bent to June’s will in silence. She had no interest in the spotlight that seemed to chase people like Catherine. Anonymity was her sharpest weapon. Her eyes flicked briefly toward the glow of the main event. "It’s exhausting, isn't it? All that performance. I suspect you’re far more interesting when you stop performing politeness."

@siinncrs

Laura's laugh filled the entire suite as soon as Eoin opened the door, the buzz from the alcohol was evident and she delighted in it. To some, marrying in Las Vegas on a whim could seem like a harsh decision, something that they would later regret, but Laura had absolutely no doubts about Eoin. When he suggested it she didn't even think twice before saying yes, they had no rings, she found a white short dress in a store near their hotel and wore golden platform heels. They even got their photo with Elvis, it was all so cliche and at the same time so them. As her weight dropped on the huge mattress she propped herself up on her elbows looking at him. "We should open that expensive champagne then." She said as her eyes focused on the champagne that was already chilling for them. "We need to make a proper toast." She sat on her knees moving to the edge of the bed pulling him closer by his shirt. "And then..." The blonde grinned towards him, looking him up and down. "I should have my wedding night with my husband."

Eoin looked down at Laura with dark, hungry eyes as her short, barely-there, white dress rode up those thighs. Fuck, it was so inappropriate for a wedding dress and he loved every inch of it. From the moment they’d met, being with her had felt stupidly easy, like the universe had finally thrown him a bone after all the beatings in the ring. He popped the expensive champagne with a loud thunk, pouring her a full flute before keeping the bottle and stalking back to the edge of the bed. "To my beautiful wife," he toasted, clinking his bottle against her glass, "the only woman who could drag my sorry arse down the aisle half-pissed and make me the luckiest bastard alive. May we fuck like rabbits and fight like hell." He took a long swig straight from the bottle, before claiming her mouth in a deep, messy kiss. "I hope you like this room, love… because you’re not going to be able to walk in the morning."

"Aye," Eoin grunted low in his throat at her playful question, the sound rough and appreciative as he eyed her from the fire. He straightened to his full height then, the wife-beater clinging to his still-muscled frame, and his jaw tightened at the mention of the ranch kid.

Laura's lips turned into a smirk as she heard the annoyance on Eoin's tone, her arms crossing just under her breasts as she laughed clearly mocking him a little. "We don't know how long Daddy is staying this time." She teased him, it didn't bother her that he went away, it was part of their routine. "He is a little shit, but I need him, he's been doing good work, he just need to be a little broken into, maybe you could work with him." She suggest with a soft shrug of her shoulders. "You could rough him up a little, it will do him good." She meant that, even if Laura was a tough woman she always had good intentions deep down, she cared for the kid and she thought that learning to work had was going to do him some good, Eoin could help with that. As soon as her husband was sat next to her, Laura stretched her legs over his lap, her body invading his space almost instantly and accepting the glass of wine offered. She took her first sip as she watched him light the joint, setting her glass down when he offered it and bringing it to her lips, inhaling the smoke feeling it invade her mouth and move down her throat and into her lungs. As she exhaled the smoke Laura coughed a little with a smirk handing him the joint back. "You're spoiling me huh?" She said with a smile as she leaned in to take a bite of the steak he had cooked. "If you weren't my husband already I'd say you're trying to get laid."

Eoin shrugged broad shoulders. It was true, he didn’t know how long he’d be sticking around this time. Never did. Eoin wasn’t exactly a role model, but could he teach some manners to a kid who’d been mouthing off at his wife? "Aye, I'll teach him some manners." His big hand slid slowly up her leg as she draped them over his lap, calloused palm rough against her smooth skin, while he grabbed the wine bottle and took a long swig straight from it. When Laura handed him the joint he took a deep drag, inhaling and holding it before exhaling a thick cloud toward the dark sky. He waited until she’d chewed her bite of steak, then claimed her mouth in a messy, hungry kiss that tasted of grilled meat, wine, and that sweet weed. He didn’t care how vulgar it was; he loved spoiling her like a princess, but also loved being filthy with her too. Pulling back with a smirk, he growled, "Yeah? And is it working?" Without missing a beat he grabbed his own steak with bare hands, tearing into it like the animal he was, juices running down his chin as he chewed.

@badrcmance

She’s half yelling, asking him what the fuck he’s doing here. He hears the words but they slide over him. He’s too stunned to answer. The afternoon light catches her as she stands over him. It hits the line of her jaw, the curve of her mouth, the familiar shape of her eyes... She is as beautiful as he remembers. More so, perhaps, as the years have added something steadier, something that makes his chest ache. Only when she finally steps closer and offers to help him up does the world snap back into focus. He takes the help, rising unsteadily.

closed starter for @prxfessors

Juniper stood just beyond the spill of light from the main ballroom. She was dressed in a tailored charcoal suit that screamed quiet authority. She had organized this entire gala, every detail from the seating chart to the vintage champagne. She let Catherine’s apology hang in the air for a long, deliberate beat, one perfectly arched eyebrow lifting. "Why exactly are you apologising?" She took a slow drag from her cigarette, then tapped ash into a discreet crystal tray on the nearby ledge. "You shouldn’t throw that word out so fleetingly. It cheapens the currency." Only then did she extend her hand. "Juniper Armstrong. I orchestrated this little circus tonight." Her gaze swept over Catherine once more, taking in the subtle signs of exhaustion beneath the practiced poise. A faint, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Not having fun?" She released the handshake but didn’t step back. "Most people would kill for an invitation. Yet here you are, hiding in the shadows with me." Her tone dripped with dry amusement.