#gchqreception

“dj martin garrix? no way.” asher looked down at the itinerary in his hand like it might be lying to him, then snapped his head back up, eyes bright with genuine, almost boyish excitement. “this is going to be awesome,” he said, voice pitching higher on the last word because he couldn’t help it. “that dude is one of the top djs in the world.” he scanned the page again, thumb tapping the paper like he was already hearing the set in his head. “like… the production alone is going to be insane.”

his eyes kept moving down the schedule, mouth twitching with a grin until he hit a certain line. he paused, looked up at them slowly, and lifted his brows. “are you going to do this singles dance?”

As he had already promised, he would stay late, he would dance with his friends, he would send them safely home, and he would help Emily out whenever she needed a break to go have some fun. Honestly, she's probably know how to have more fun than he did anyways, he was put to better use as helping hands to keep the bride and groom enjoying themselves too. They certainly had proper bartenders doing the drinks, so Ashton simply situated himself to help get them out once they were done. "Espresso Martini? We got a non-alcoholic option too." Ash pushed up his jacket sleeves so they didn't get wet as he greeted the next person coming up to the bar, "I've tried the latter only but know they're equally delicious."

emily had been on the property for hours at this point floating between tasks. she’d helped in the kitchen, fetched whatever ingrid needed before ingrid even had to ask, smiled through a hundred little conversations, and finally gotten herself dressed for cocktail hour. now she’d slipped outside near the pool for a second of quiet, just long enough to let her shoulders drop before she put her party face back on.

the night air was cooler out here, the kind that made it easier to breathe. she turned and nearly jumped out of her skin. “fuck,” emily blurted, clutching a hand to her chest as she laughed at herself a beat later. “i didn’t see you there.” she exhaled, still a little keyed up, and tilted her head at them. “what are you doing out here?”

valentina had come to the party with autumn, but she’d lost sight of her somewhere in the crowd. now she stood near the bracelet station, eyeing the display as she tried to decide whether or not she should take one. they were cute, whether she planned on dancing or not. when someone stepped up behind her, she turned with one of her polished pageant smiles already in place. “i hope i’m not in the way,” she said lightly. her gaze flicked back to the bracelets before returning to them. “i was just trying to decide if i should take one. even if i don’t dance, they’re still cute.”

hera was just like that taylor swift tune—getting older but never any wiser. Her head-melter of a depression always fancies a night shift, and she knows rightly she shouldn’t be left to her own devices. yet there she is, having a cry and putting the blame on this grand reception, dwelling on what she lost while watching them win. it leaves her properly bitter because she realises, as an afterthought, that she’s the one at fault. she’s the anti-hero of her own story, brave enough to stare at the sun but never in the mirror, haunted by the ghosts of folk who aren't even in her life anymore. there’s no one else to blame but her own self.

she scurries across the garden, the blue ribbon bracelet on her arm looking completely out of it against her floral dress in those fairy-like shades. she isn't really taking it in, though; she’s just replaying the past, wondering if she was the one who’d buggered it all up. was it her doing, or were they all just too young and thick? she could honestly say she regretted every time she’d shoved them into the back of her mind just to let them haunt her later. she perched in a corner, lonesome as a magpie, knowing there were bits of her soul that needed handling with care—and right now, her head was doing a total number on her.

“ oh, you lot are here too? ” she gasps, sounding a bit choked up as she dabs her eyes and lets out a weak laugh. “ the flowers are spot on, aren't they? everything’s so lovely it looks like it’s come straight out of a storybook. can you even believe this is actually happening? ” she wiped away the tears as best she could and turned her face toward them. “ joel’s speech was massive—so touching, don’t you think? bloody hell, i look like a total soft lad crying like this. ”

Everything had been going so well, until certain people. Claudio sat, at the edge of their seat with a plate balanced in their lap, eyes big and wide, caught staring. Every so often, they lifted another fresh raspberry to their mouth, mindlessly chewing their a decent handful of them already.

Hattie. Just seeing her now, caused their heart to sink into a miserable depth. There was no denying a certain allure, despite a severity to her somehow. Sharp, dark features flattered by equally dark clothes; the dress was amazing on her. Better than anything would ever look on them. She never really smiled. Didn't exactly have happiness spewing out of her. Asher and she couldn't have been more different than the moon and sun, and Claudio thought, doleful, that might be why they made perfect sense. Why the sun sought the moon's shadowed glow. Opposites attract, as they say, like magnets.

The longer they stared, the more forlorn their features twisted. Unaware, even, that they were pressing the raspberries against their lips firmly, squishing them, their fingers painting the red stain across their full bottom lip. Lipstick but not. They wanted to be pretty like that. They wanted to be wanted like that. Hattie was so unapologetically herself, she didn't care what anyone thought. Or, she certainly gave the perception of such. Claudio couldn't stop letting in the doubts, the fears, the negativity. The comparisons of everything they weren't and would never be. Wetting their lips, tongue wiping away the carcass of that fruit, their lips stained pinker for it. As did their fingertips.

Finally, their gaze shifted just some. March had showed up. For Ashton. And Ashton... He looked so happy. Claudio could imagine the tears in his eyes from where they sat, only a spectator now. A certain nostalgia tugging inside because, at one time, he used to look at them that way. And that all just made things heavier somehow. It was okay he didn't anymore. That kind of pain had lessened years ago. It was more a sense of loss, of what could have been, that they truly mourned over. If only these insecurities hadn't eaten them alive back then, too. Inwardly, the dichotomy of genuinely being glad this person they cared for so much was finally moving on, and yet feeling left behind somehow, warred.

Tristan lingered near the edge of the bar with a whiskey balanced loosely between his fingers, looking completely out of place among all these rich folks.  Everything seemed too perfect, too expensive, too carefully put together.  While he spent a good portion of his life with his uncle, moving from town to town…bouncing between motels, cramped apartments, and townspeople he barely remembered.  So standing here at the wedding reception full of money and carefully rehearsed smiles felt like he accidentally wandered onto a movie set. Still, he cleaned up well when he wanted to, after all his uncle taught him how to blend in. His tie hung slightly loosened around his collar now, dark sleeves rolled to his forearms as he leaned against the bar watching couples drift across the dance floor beneath soft golden lights.

A faint smirk tugged at his mouth as he noticed someone nearby looking just as overwhelmed, or bored as he felt. “Lemme guess,” he said casually, turning slightly toward them, “you’re either hiding from your family, escaping a drunk ex, or trying to figure out which fork you’re supposed to use at these rich people events.” His tone carried easy charm, warm enough to invite conversation without pushing for it. Tristan lifted his glass slightly in a mock toast before glancing back toward the crowd. “Personally, I’m about ten minutes away from stealing a bottle and disappearing into the gardens where nobody can ask me what I do for a living.”

closed starter for @autumnonheels

This was Ingrid and Joel's evening, and the whole town (and more) celebrated with them, but one person appeared there for a whole different reason: tonight, he knew exactly where Autumn Manchester would be. Tonight and only tonight, her presence in Carroll was a given because tomorrow she could be partying her anger away on the other end of the world.

Eric tried to attract as little attention as he could while he snuck past the guests Bond style. Casual, but taking strategic pauses whenever his cover threatened to blow. Not that he expected to find Autumn in the middle of the dance floor, but as soon as he spotted Mr and Mrs Hawkins dancing, his gut told him he should be looking for Auttie somewhere close... And there she was: standing with a flute in one hand, looking stunning, and watching her friend dance with his wife, with that mix of joy and sadness in her eyes that made Eric want to run to her. Close her in a tight embrace and never let go... Or maybe he should stay there, watch her from afar, safely, and head back to Italy.

No, he only had two or three hours, and he didn't want to waste a single second. In the sea of lights, loud music, and laughter, Eric made his way towards Autumn unnoticed and stopped right by her side. Not more than two seconds must have passed before he made another move or uttered a word, but it felt like an eternity. His fingers reached for her hand, froze mid-way, and he retreated them before trying again. Finally, he decided the worst had already happened, and he had nothing to lose.