#britney spears packs

[joshwnder]

britney spears headers

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[ecile]

RETRO FUTURISM

[yongblock]

titi me pregunto to to to to

all headers by me

[icardigan]

[sgftxtinajb]

Selena Gomez and Hailey Bieber

[roweicons]

like or reblog if you save

[neverscreens]

— CROSSROADS, SCREENCAPS.

Part One, 319 Screencaps.

Part Two, 315 Screencaps.

Find in GALLERIES. Like or reblog the post it was useful. Your interaction shows me that I should keep making screencaps. And if you want me to post some in separate posts, tell me! ♡

[dokyeomini]

im going home tomorrow:o

[freemansgirl]

“get naked, i got a plan.”

pairing: amber freeman x fem reader

genre: smut

summary: reader confides in amber to make her mask & costume kink sex fantasy come true.

words: 4.6k (enjoy the details 🙈)

warnings: knife kink (ambs fucks you w her knife handle, cuts your tits with it, and holds it against your neck), mask kink, degradation kink (use of “slut”), praise kink, reader gets her tits sucked, amber talks abt wanting to kill men for you, cowgirl position (you’re riding her), bottom!amber.

a/n: halloween special for you guys, happy halloween 🖤

on this exciting halloween night, the air was charged with a unique blend of spooky anticipation and joyful excitement. in order to live it up this amazing, scary holiday, what better way is there to do that other than partying at your girlfriend’s place?

it was the perfect opportunity since amber’s parents were currently gone for the night, which gave her the idea to throw the party while having you help her host it, it being the two of you’s idea. amber always knew how to throw the best parties, the guests and her friends always had the best time of their lives when participating at them. you and her always had a lot of fun such as dancing together (mainly you dance on her) and getting drunk together for shits and giggles.

when you had hit some liquor in your system, you found yourself being really touchy feely with your girlfriend and you wanted her and only her right now. she was constantly whispering sweet nothings in your ear while you grinded your hips against hers to the rhythm of the beat. your ass underneath the black tutu of your witch costume just pressing against amber’s dick made her get so hard. she wanted you so bad that she shamelessly started to attempt rubbing her finger against your clothed, wet pussy under your tutu at one point. she could care less knowing majority of these drunk or/and high teenagers weren’t paying attention to anything around them.

she just couldn’t help herself at all, you were too hot for her to keep her hands to herself. it’s not like you didn’t mind either when both of you were infatuated with just how hot the other looked in their costume, so this was okay. your enchanting, sexy black witch costume matched perfectly with her intimidating, mysterious ghostface costume. amber thought you looked so hot in it, the wide-brimmed hat, your black t shirt exposing your bust perfectly, your thighs looking sexy in your mesh black, thigh high socks, and the way your black tutu bounced everytime you walked, made you looked so good.

usually, you’d tell amber to stop teasing you because “people are looking” but she was wearing a ghostface costume, anonymous to anyone so you weren’t too worried. not to mention, it was pretty packed in this party so no one could really see you guys getting dirty on the dance floor. your girlfriend was really jealous and couldn’t help but let her possessiveness take over. she caught so many prying, inappropriate eyes dawning down on you, watching your every move. she hated seeing all of those people look at what was hers, which would cause her to glare at them or make threatening gestures (the main one being she’d drag her index finger across her neck to mock a “knife slicing throat” emote) towards them behind your back.

you had this sudden burst of confidence due to the liquor consumption, enjoying all of the attention that amber have gave you when you were moaning so subtly. thank god the music was so loud that no one could hear all of the cute, lewd noises that you released for your girlfriend. as amber understood your needs, she wanted to kick everyone out of the party so it was only just you two.

as the clock hit midnight, you guys began to thank everyone for coming out to this party and wished everyone a good night. the atmosphere was now a blend of playfulness and excitement as the two of you started to go up to amber’s room, ready to fuck. you guys will have to clean up the mess of the party later, needs and wants always come first. seeing all of the costumed guest leave brought you guys a sense of intimacy leading up to a deep, lustful makeout session.

“finally, some alone time, am i right?” amber smiled, cupping your cheeks. she starts to pull the chin of the ghostface mask upwards, moving it back some so she could lean in for a kiss. there was a mischievous gleam in his own eyes, displaying her own growing excitement while she looked at how pretty you looked. you start to nod, smiling when you wrap your arms around her neck as your lips meet her own in what starts off as a soft, lingering kiss. the two of you closed your eyes, feeling lost in each other’s embrace.

then, the kiss deepened as it began to feel intense and hungrier, while amber’s free hand gropped your soft, bare ass right under the tutu like she was doing earlier. you let out a gasp which causes her to explore deeper inside of your mouth, dominating the kiss and she starts to push you towards her bed. the two of you pulled back from the kiss, your eyes meeting with lust and satisfaction from this make out session. there was a share of panting between you two.

“you are so sexy, baby. maybe, you really are a witch with the way you got me in a trance when i see you.” amber complimented you, studying your beautiful features and also your witch outfit. she started to hover on top of your body, planting small kisses over your neck to chest. she was thankful that the party was over so she can just have some one on one time with her girl. the make out session was very much needed, considering the two of you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other the whole night.

“you think that’s a trance? you haven’t seen nothing, yet. get naked, i got a plan.” you whispered seductively, looking up at the girl dressed in the ghostface costume. amber pulled away with a pretty shocked expression on her face when hearing you say this, wondering what plan is there. “and what plan is that, love?” she smirked at you, raising a brow to see what is there to come out of your mouth.

you start to sit up, using your elbows to prop you up so you’re sitting up on the bed properly to face your girlfriend. you wanted to have a proper conversation here, serious and all, no bullshit. the only issue is… how could you tell your girlfriend that you wanted her to fuck you in her ghostface costume? your liquor courage from earlier wasn’t here to help you out, it was you, the real, sobered you. your girlfriend studied your features, she can tell you looked worried and she didn’t understand why the sudden mood change. she wouldn’t mind stopping and just going to sleep with you to show how much of a respectful, caring girlfriend she is.

“what’s wrong, (your name)? if something’s bothering you, we can stop.”

your girlfriend rubbed your shoulder with a reassuring look on her face, to show how much she cares about your consent and well-being. as a result of this, you give her a sweet smile and shake your head at her.

“no, it’s not that… lately i…” you trailed off, no longer looking at your girlfriend and you’re looking down at the ground now, out of shyness, before looking back up at amber. “i been wanting to try new things in sex with you, if that’s okay? the sex with you is always amazing, don’t get me wrong, ambs. i just.. wanna spice things up. so with that being said, could you fuck me in your ghostface costume? since it fits the halloween spirit and all….?”

your eyes started to turn into big, doe ones as you stared into her dazed, dark brown ones while she’s processing the information you just told her. you innocently bat your eyes at her, hoping it would convince her. with eyes like yours, how could she even say no? the way your girlfriend stared at you with her eyes now suddenly shocked at this information you told her, worried you. should you just take back everything you said now?

“wait—what?”

these are the words amber could only respond with right now. she was really shocked to hear you even ask for such a request. she wasn’t complaining, hell, she was turned on by the fact that you even asked! she would’ve never thought in a million years that you would ask her to fuck you in her ghostface costume. especially considering that you hated when she would playfully prank you when she would jump out in her costume around her house or the fact that she would joke about fucking you in her ghostface costume once you found out she was ghostface. of course, she never did fuck you as ghostface because she knew how much you hated that costume and she also doesn’t want to hear you complaining about the suit being a turn off as she fucks you.

at first, you disapproved of her being ghostface for self explanatory reasons but you had no choice but to stay with her. knowing amber, she wasn’t gonna let you out of her sight that easily due to her overbearing possessive nature. over time, you had no choice but to accept this but a part of you was… actually turned on by her costume and mask the more you seen her wear the costume. at this point, you couldn’t stop your mask kink from forming and turning into something more, you accepted it.

“you heard me, ambs. cmon, stop playing dumb before i change my mind.” you sighed, a frown was drawn on your lips while you crossed your arms. there was a hint of blush that came across your skin, showing that you felt embarrassed and flustered for even bringing up the suggestion to her. you started to turn away from her but she grabs you by your body and makes you turn back to her.

“no, baby, don’t hide yourself from me. don’t worry, i’m not complaining, it’s just i didn’t know how much of a freak in the sheets my girlfriend was.” amber spoke, lightly laughing before a smirk was plastered to her face. she was right, yes you were definitely freaky, but not this freaky that it caused her shock. there was a blush on your face when she called you a freak. honestly, she loved this so much, seeing you all flustered and shy asking her to fuck you in her costume. at the sound of her words, you feel yourself getting really excited because you’re getting what it is that you asked for.

that’s when she started to actually undress herself underneath the black ghostface robe, taking off her jeans and boots so she can kick them to the side. she moves onto pulling the robe over her head, so she can remove the black t-shirt and her bra she was wearing now. she pulls down her boxers, her 8 inch dick was showing. after she’s fully undressed, she puts her robe back on and pulls her mask over head, covering her face.

at the sight of her getting fully invested into this ghostface costume, you felt your panties dampen with a moist liquid. you were already wet from earlier when amber was touching you underneath your tutu, but damn you just got even wetter for her. before your wanted to get to the actual fucking, she wanted to do some foreplay. she takes out a shiny, metal knife from the pocket of her ghostface costume and walks towards you.

“spread your legs, love.” amber demanded, her eyes narrowing from behind the eyeholes of her mask to look at your very innocent, curious eyes watching her. you looked so nervous and scared of her with that knife in her hand, wondering what she was planning to do, it was just too cute. you slowly spread your legs for her, inviting amber to come and take you on the bed right here and there.

“i’m going take real good care of you, baby. i’m not going to hurt you… yet, that is.” she reassured, hovering her body right on top of you like it was earlier. her pale hands grabbed your black, fluffy tutu to push it down to your ankles so it wasn’t in the way as she works on you. amber took her knife and turned the blade to her, so the handle was facing the entrance of your slick, clothed pussy. her leathered gloves moved your underwear to the side, so it was just your pussy on display.

she pressed the handle right against your slick fold, rubbing it against your the folds of your vagina. you began to let out a groan at how the feel of the handle going up and down against your vagina, it felt so good. when amber saw how your wetness grazed over the knife’s handle, she let out a pleased sigh at how wet you are. “so wet for me as always, you’re so good to me, baby. now let me return the favor tonight.” the black haired girl cooed, while running her left hand all over your thighs as the right hand kept moving the handle on your clit.

the sensation of the handle sliding right inside of your wet folds was enough to cause you to whine, you felt your back start to arch slightly. you grabbed onto amber’s left hand for support and something to grab onto. your breath started to shake when you felt that handle enter inside of you, your mouth turned into an “o” shape.

“fuck, amber…” you groaned, watching her press the handle inside of you deeper. just as soon as things were getting really good, she pulled out the handle abruptly. you looked at her with the most confused look on your face, unsure of why she stopped. “now, sweetheart, if you’re gonna let me fuck you with this costume on, at least use the correct name when i’m fucking you.”

you didn’t understand what she meant by this, because this was your first time letting her fuck you with the costume on. that’s when it hit you, you immediately understood what she meant by her sentence.

“ghostface?”

“nailed it, baby.”

when she heard you called her ghostface, her dick got harder than it already was. hearing you say it so innocently made her want to fuck you. however, she can wait after shes done fucking you with the handle of the knife. she stuck the handle right back into your entrance, picking back up on where the two of you just started. she started to put it right back in there, pushing the handle slowly, taking her time with you so you can adjust.

you let out a wince, trying to get back into feeling the handle inside of you. amber’s left hand moved from holding your thigh to grasping your waist and gave it a small squeeze as a nonverbal cue to stay put. she didn’t want you to move at all because she wanted you to enjoy yourself while she fucked you with this knife. your girlfriend started to speed up her pace, causing you to moan a lot.

if it wasn’t for the ghostface mask, you would be able to see the look on your girlfriend’s face. she was getting so turned on through her lustful, hungry eyes watching you moan all over her knife. that same knife that she used to attack and murder many people in woodsboro, some of them being you and amber’s mutual friends. the same knife that she used to protect you from any creeps trying to mess with you. she had so much blood spilled onto this knife. this was the knife that was the talk of the town, it put so much fear into citizen’s hearts.

you had no business fucking a serial killer, it was wrong and you knew that but you couldn’t help yourself. the thought was starting to turn you on so much, you loved the taboo aspect that came with this. unfortunately, it was a guilty pleasure. your thoughts were being clouded as the knife handle went in and out of your clit, each thrust getting faster, brutal, and harder. your hips were arching as your eyes rolled back into your head, the pleasure was taking over your body.

“good girl, fucking yourself all over my knife. this is what i like to see.” amber’s muffled voice from behind her ghostface mask filled the room, watching you take her knife in. you start to feel your body rise and rise, you can feel yourself getting stimulated down there. a deep, heavy groan escaped your lips when you felt yourself getting close.

“more, ghostface, more! i’m so close! keep going!” you cried out, grabbing onto amber’s left arm even harder when you kept watching her. taking notice of your features scrunching up from the pleasure, she started to thrust the knife even more into you. you started to jerk your body a lot, once your orgasm was approaching. you felt yourself shiver, finishing all over her knife handle. amber pulled the knife out of you, throwing it to the side for now.

she allowed you to catch your breath for a couple of minutes, watching you pant from her hard work of fucking you with the edge of her knife handle. she started to caress the right cheek of your face, rubbing her thumb on it so gently. she lifted up her ghostface mask to plant a kiss to your forehead. “you did so good for me… but i know you’re gonna do even better when i fuck the shit out of you. time for the grand finale, babe.”

there was a smirk plastered on her beautiful, pale features when she stared down at your figure. too bad you couldn’t admire her forever because she pulled the mask right back on, to get back into character. the glistening, shiny knife that she threw away to side was now back into her hands again. the blade of the knife was pressed into the skin of your cheek as it trailed down to your black t-shirt, causing you to let out soft, pretty whimpers here and there for her. “aw… baby, you’re so cute when you whimper for me.” your lover laughed softly, giving you a fake pout to pretend she felt bad about the blade making you whimper.

the knife stopped at the right cup of your bra, her blade poking your right boob. she licked her lips at just how nice and perfect your boobs were sitting up in your black t-shirt. she loved seeing the breastbone of your breasts, the peak of side boobs sticking out from each boob. too bad she was going to ruin your shirt so she can see those pretty titties of yours. “god, i am so lucky to be blessed with the best set of boobs i ever seen in my life. you’re my everything, babe.” she sighed lovingly, before running her blade on the fabric of your shirt, slicing it in half to reveal your beautiful black bra that matched your lacey black panties.

as much as you wanted to complain about your girlfriend cutting off your shirt, you rather save it for after the sex because you wanted her to perform whatever acts were to come next on your boobs. she taps your bra strap with the tip of her knife, giving you a look. “go on, princess, take off your bra for me.”

with that command being said, you started to unclasp your bra in the back letting it drop down to the ground. your bare boobs were now in front of amber, only for her to see. “so pretty, all for me and only me. been wanting to suck on these, the moment i saw all of those losers looking at what belongs to me.” she whispered, fondling each of your breasts, the leather fabric on her hands groping all over your soft boob tissue.

“mhmm, baby. you’re the only one that gets to see me like this.” you gasped at how her leather fabric felt against your body. you started to touch her mask with your thumb, rubbing it in a caressing manner. she takes the knife in her hand and holds right in front of your face, the blade is an inch away from your eyes.

“now, see this knife, right here, darling?”

you nodded at her, eyeing her to see what else she was about to say. “i wanted to slice off every single guy’s head that even fucking took a look at you. i was so close to slitting their fucking throats and placing their lifeless heads on the dresser so they could watch me fuck the shit out of you.” she advised, clenching the knife handle, her knuckles were getting pale out of the jealousy that was being shown through her behavior. you felt yourself getting so hot and bothered when she said that, you couldn’t fight your feelings. you loved it when she showed her possessiveness and jealousy, it was hot when she wanted to kill for you.

amber pressed the knife onto the areola of your right breast, gently dragging it down so it could create a scar. there was some winces of pain that came out when you watched her do this. she lifted up her ghostface mask, so you could only see her mouth but not her whole face. she began sucking on the scar and consuming the blood that was oozing from it while she massaged your left nipple to make you feel better. the way how her tongue was circling and swirling all over your scar made you breathe heavily, it all felt so good because it didn’t hurt as much anymore.

“i always knew your blood would taste good, baby.” amber pulled away, a smirk on her face, pleased with the tangy, sweet taste of your blood. she went to work on your left breast, kissing all over then putting her mouth on it since it was neglected earlier. she gave a nice, long lick to your nipple which caused you to shudder at how wet your left nipple suddenly felt. her licks started to change speed, each one was getting faster while she sucked on it. you grabbed her by the back of her ghostface costume hood so you can push her more into you. after making you moan so many times from the affection, amber was now finished from sucking off your boobs causing her to stop.

she took a good look at your boobs again, admiring just how sexy they are. they were definitely sexy alright, but they’d be even sexier bouncing when you ride her. at the thought of that, amber smirked, there was some excitement behind her eyes at her idea. she put her mask over her head again before patting your ass lightly with the blade of her knife. “get up, i wanna see you ride my dick right fucking now.”

you immediately listened to your girlfriend’s words as the two of you swapped spots. the black haired girl leaned her body against the bed frame, while she watched you across from her. amber grabbed you roughly by your thighs, so you were pulled towards her legs. she started to lift up the ghostface robe up, so she can reveal the lower half of her body, mainly her hard 8 inch dick that’s been eager to enter you the whole night.

“sit that pretty pussy right on top of this dick, baby.” she called out, patting her thighs to motion you to come sit on her dick. you crawled over to her, positioning your vagina to sit right on top of amber’s dick. the two of you share a groan of pleasure when you feel her dick sliding into your wet folds so easily. you could feel her tip getting deeper inside of your hole, stretching you out nicely. “mmm, fuck… ghostface.” you let out a soft moan, while taking your time to move your hips on your lover’s dick.

you started off really slow, taking as much time as you can to move against her. amber stroked her hands against your body, feeling every curve of it. she moved her hands down to your ass, giving it some nice squeezes here and there. your eyes started roll back at how good everything was feeling, you threw your head back in ecstasy. so many moans came from out of your mouth from how good her dick felt against your pussy.

“faster, slut. i wanna see your knees tremble when you ride me. i don’t wanna see you be able to walk in the morning, understand?” your girlfriend ordered, there was sense of harshness to her tone. she started to slap your ass with a hard smack, it leaving a tense sting on your right ass cheek. amber let go of the right side of your hips with her right hand to grab her knife. she picked it up and pressed it against your neck, the blade sitting right above your skin. you nodded, starting to obey what you were told as your body moved quicker onto her dick.

amber started to grab you to guide your movements with her left hand as you rode her dick. she squeezed your ass and pushed it onto her dick, showing that she was in control of your every move. she start begins to put her knife back down so she can grab onto you with both her hands now. she grabs your hips and slams it onto her cock, your whole body jerking upward from the slam. your boobs were bouncing at every single hop that was on her dick.

you press your hands against her body, grabbing her waist to hold yourself up for support. sometimes, you’d take your hands off of her waist to feel up on your body especially your breasts because you knew that was her favorite sexual part of your body. “that’s right, touch yourself while i fuck you.” she cooed, continuing to move you against your hips.

when watching you slam against her thighs, each slam was getting more and more powerful by the second. she licked her lips as she watched your pussy consuming her whole dick, the sight being a beautiful one. you felt amazing on your girlfriend’s dick, so tight, yet it felt so good when you squeezed around her hard dick. “god, fuck, baby you feel amazing on my dick like always.” the raven haired girl let out a groan, praising you for your hard work.

you couldn’t really say much but moan because of how she kept shoving your pussy onto her. “a-all— for… you, ghostface.” you spoke, in between continuous moans at the feeling. the more you rode her, the more you were starting to see stars. you could feel your knees trembling from how much skin was slapping against skin, the only noise happening in this room. you felt your knees about to give out. amber could feel her brows starting to narrow and tighten from all of this pleasure, she was very close to cumming.

“fuck— i’m about to cum. shit.” she breathed out, letting curses roll from her tongue so effortlessly. after you hit you hit your last final jump on her dick, you just sat there and buried your pussy on her twitching dick. she rolled her head back while saying your name as she started to let her cum shoot inside of your vagina. the two of you remained in your same spots, neither of you moving. amber took off of her mask, revealing her fast, heavy pants that were kept behind it.

she could see that you were panting just as much as she was, the two of you had your eyes staring right into each other. you started to lean onto her body, snuggling into her warm, comfortable embrace. her pale hands snaked their way around your hips as a way to bring you more comfort. you were laying your head on top of her shoulder. she gave you a small kiss, before chuckling at your exhausted, laid out position on her.

“i wish you would’ve spoken up about this whole dirty little secret of yours earlier, love. we were missing out on so much fun that could’ve happened sooner.”

[joshwnder]

⠀the weeknd & britney spears packs

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[guess-my-next-obsession]

Elementary, Finale:

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

rating: E (18+ only—i choose not to list warnings for this one as not to spoil anything but you know how we get down over here on GMNO, happy endings only. read at your own discretion.) unedited/not proofread (for now)

wc: 7k

series masterlist | joel masterlist

June, 2004

“Don’t you dare,” Joel ordered as he surprised you from the doorway of your bedroom—your former bedroom.

You stood in front of a stack of cardboard boxes labeled “linens”, your hands resting on two sides as though you were caught mid-lift. He walked over to you with a smirk, shaking his head before lifting the box for you.

“You’re already carrying enough,” he said, eyes falling to your swollen belly, six-months into your first pregnancy.

“I think I’m more than capable of carrying a box of sheets,” you countered with a matching smirk, reaching for the box that sat below the one he just stole from you.

“Uh-uh,” Tommy came rushing in, sweeping the box from your grasp. “You got my nephew to worry about.”

“How do you know I’m having a boy?” you asked, following your fiancé and soon-to-be brother in law out of your old home to watch them load the moving truck.

“I can just feel it,” he replied, earning a smile from his older brother.

“I’m still hopin’ for another girl,” Joel admitted as he walked down the rickety metal ramp to meet you as you stood in the walkway, his hands sliding over your belly to rest on your waist. He placed a sweet kiss on your lips before letting you go. “You should go sit in the sunroom with Sarah and Jessie. Make sure they’re keepin’ room for Jesus and all that.”

“Oh, let them be. Not like we have to worry about teen pregnancy—“

“Alright, alright.” Joel covered his ears, wincing at the thought. “Still, I don’t want you workin’ too hard.”

“Joel, I promise, I’m not working hard at all. You and Tommy won’t give me the chance.”

“That’s how it should be,” he countered, walking inside the house with you following behind.

“Guys, guess what?” Sarah and her newly defined girlfriend, Jessie burst into the half-packed kitchen as you stood slowly making your way through your pantry, organizing a keep pile and a donate pile. Joel lifted a brow at her as he started on taking the metal barstools that stood at your kitchen island apart so that they could take up less room in the truck. “Britney Spears is coming to San Antonio next month.”

“Praise to the heavens,” Joel mumbled under his breath, earning a chuckle from you as you rolled you eyes at his lackluster reaction.

“That’s fun!” you replied, looking at the two fifteen year-olds. “How much are tickets?”

“Like thirty bucks,” Jessie sighed, frowning. “My mom’s gonna make me work at the restaurant to earn it.”

“Well, she’s got the right idea,” Joel stood, having disassembled the first stool. “Sarah, why don’t you come work with me and Tommy this week and I’ll buy your ticket.”

“Really?” she asked with a hopeful smile before remembering her fathers line of work. “Wait—at the site? I won’t know what to do.”

“I’m sure we can find somethin’ for you to do.”

“Yeah, I mean…Britney’s worth it,” Sarah sighed and shrugged before walking back into the sunroom with Jessie in tow.

“Hey, did I tell you we got a new hire?” Joel spoke to you as he started on the second stool.

“Oh, that’s good. I thought you were having trouble finding someone?”

“We were, but she got the seal of approval from Tommy. Guess she’s a real jack-of-all-trades type’a builder. S’just what we needed.” You smiled at him proudly, his construction company having taken off this last year and a half. They were almost too busy, too booked, leaving Joel and Tommy to stay behind and work the amount of four people instead of two just so that their projects remained on time. “Hopefully might start gettin’ two days off a week instead of one.”

“That would be nice,” you hummed, walking over to him to slide your hand over his sweaty but irresistible back as he crouched down to unscrew some bolts from the legs of the stool. “I’ve been like a lonely little housewife these last few months. Holed up waiting for my man to come back from the coal mines.”

“Oh, is that right?” He looked up at you with a smirk. It had been a few weeks since the two of you had last been together, long days at the site and, for you, at school forcing you apart. Aside from a few steamy but quick makeouts, you were left longing for your soon-to-be husband. “I been neglectin’ you, huh?”

You nodded, your smile spreading wider as you played along, your voice dramatic and theatrical as you tried on an old-timey southern belle persona. “All I got is this baby I’m brewing to remember you by.”

Joel stood up and dropped his tools on the kitchen counter before letting his hands find your waist, tugging you as close to him as your belly would allow. He leaned in, pressing a featherlight kiss to your cheek that caused your entire body to light with chills as his kisses traveled down your neck.

“Why don’t I take you into the bedroom and give you that attention you’ve been needin’ so bad,” he rasped against your skin, dizzying your mind as you clung to him, breathless and wanting.

“House full of people,” Tommy’s voice sounded, reminding the two of you why you’d gone so long without each other in the first place. “Thought this would be done by now. Been, what, three years?”

“Don’t mind him, his longest relationship has been with the goddamn Longhorns,” Joel mumbled, keeping you hugged to his body. “Don’t know a thing about real love.”

“Yeah, yeah, save me the lecture, old man.” Tommy batted his brother’s teasing away and continued on packing and moving in the living room.

“Have I really been neglectin’ you, baby? All jokes aside,” Joel asked in a whisper pressed to your ear. You squeezed him closer and laid your head on his chest, Joel’s chin resting on top of it as he held you.

“No, I mean…I do miss you, and it has been a while since we last were together, but you’re not neglecting me. You still come home and hold me and talk to me and makeout with me,” you spoke softly, your voice a soothing hum against his chest. “We’re tired people, and especially now with the baby…I didn’t expect you to be clawing my clothes off when I look like a whale—“

“Excuse me?” he snapped, pulling your head from his chest so he could sternly look into your eyes. “None’a that. You’re beautiful…carryin’ our baby. Drives me fuckin’ wild seein’ you like this. M’sorry I haven’t been energized enough to show it, but I promise you, baby…you’re drivin’ me crazy walkin’ around like this.”

His hands slipped to squeeze the globes of your ass that had grown along with your belly and hips and, well, everything else.

“Tommy’s gonna see,” you scolded in a whisper as Joel’s fingers pinched the fabric of your dress until it started to lift, allowing his hands to rest against your skin and the cotton of your panties. Weaker and breathier, you exhaled, “Or the girls.”

“I promise no one’s gonna see,” he rasped, pressing his against your neck.

“Dad, come out here quick! There’s—oh my god! There’s a scorpion!” Sarah’s high-pitched squeal had Joel rushing out into the sunroom, his teasing long forgotten as he searched the room frantically. Sarah pointed in the corner and Joel spotted it, black and bigger than any scorpion he’d seen before.

“How the hell’d you get in here?” he muttered to the insect as he guided the girls inside the house before coming inside as well to grab a cup and the dust pan.

You stood in the frame of the sliding glass door, watching him as he carefully approached the scorpion as though he was Steve Irwin approaching a crocodile.

“They don’t jump, do they?” you asked, wincing as Joel started to make contact, guiding it towards the cup. The girls were behind you as though you were a shield, both of them letting out a squeal when the scorpion tried to strike Joel’s wrist, just barely missing. “Joel, just leave it! This can just be his house now, it’s not worth it.”

“Oh, hush,” Joel barked, keeping focused on the task before him. With either skill or luck, Joel managed to sweep the ground-hog sized scorpion into the glass cup and placed the dust pan over the mouth to keep him inside. “See, I got it.”

“Dad, don’t!” Sarah got gravely serious, sternly ordering her father to remain where he was with a point of her finger. Joel grinned and continued over, making both of the girls squeal and run off through the house.

“It’s so gross,” you cringed, leaning over to look at it through the glass with extreme caution and hesitancy.

“I don’t know,” Joel lifted it to his eye level to study it. “I think he’s kinda cool lookin’. Maybe we can keep ‘em as a pet.”

“Yeah, ri-IGHT—Joel!” you shrieked in terror as he pushed the glass towards you with a bark, making you jump backwards. Joel cackled as he watched you stand with your hand over your heart, your stern eyes watching him unamused. “That wasn’t funny.”

“I thought it was,” he chuckled. You watched him walk out to the backyard and set his new friend free, your heart still thumping in your chest. “Gotta get your heart rate up every now and then.”

“I don’t think you do.” Joel laughed and walked to hold you but was stopped by your hand pushing against his chest. “No, you don’t get to touch me. I almost pissed myself!”

Joel laughed again, proud of his prank. “God, it was good.”

“I’m glad you’re satisfied. I can promise you that’s the only satisfaction you’re gonna get for a while, pal.” Joel poured immediately, following you as you walked through the house out to the front yard where Tommy, Sarah, and Jessie laid out in the grass, staring up at the sky. “Everybody, we’re shunning Joel.”

“What?” he chuckled, looking at you with amusement and affection, so rarely seeing you worked up like this.

“Sure thing,” Tommy replied, mellow and relaxed as he looked at the clouds, a beer in his hand.

“Sounds good,” Jessie agreed before pointing at the sky. “That’s a dragon.”

“Yeah it is,” Sarah agreed. “And why are we shunning dad?”

“He threw the scorpion at me.” You knew you were exaggerating, your smirk growing as you watched Joel scoff at the claim, a look of amazement on the entire time.

“I did no such thing,” he defended. “I jumped it at her—“

“Oh, that’s right. He jumped it at me,” you repeated, still smirking at him. “A pregnant woman.”

“Oh, the pregnancy card again,” Joel playfully sighed, earning a gasp from you.

“Pregnancy card? How dare you?” you laughed. “I rest my case, Sarah.”

“Alright, yeah. Dad’s shunned.” Joel rolled his eyes at you before walking over, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he sang, widening your already smitten grin. “I promise not to throw any more scorpions at ya. You forgive me now?”

“Mmhm,” you hummed, melting into him.

“I ain’t shunned?” he murmured, kissing your shoulder innocently.

“No, but the threat’s always there. As you just saw, I have the votes.” Joel chuckled against your skin.

“Trust me, I know my place.”

A Week Later

It was a Friday, you’d been stuck at the house all alone, Sarah off with her dad at the site to earn her Britney Spears ticket money. After doing a few hours of nesting, marrying your things to Joel’s around the house, you perked up at the sight of Joel’s name on the caller ID of your cell.

“Hi,” you sang with a smile.

“Hey baby,” he greeted. “Was wonderin’ if you could pick me and Sarah up in about a half hour?”

“Ooo, I get you home early tonight?” Your smile turned into a grin.

“Yeah, but Sean’s havin’ a barbecue at his place. Invited the whole crew so I guess we should show up.”

“Well, I’m in.”

“See you in a little?”

“Sounds good, baby.”

You smiled as you flipped your cell shut, but the task of dressing yourself quickly wiped your grin away.

You felt like a whale in everything these days, and despite Joel’s eagerness for you each and every day, you felt like a stranger to yourself. Even in the dresses you’d been living in, you felt every change in the way your body used to fill them out. You quickly shooed the insecurity from your mind and dressed yourself for comfort before heading out to go pick the Miller’s up.

Rolling into the construction site, you spotted Joel and Sarah standing in the dirt parking lot out in front of the project, a woman in front of them talking. You furrowed your brows as you got closer, seeing that whoever this woman was, she was pretty—the kind of pretty that makes you wonder why the hell she’s here in a construction lot instead of on billboards and magazine covers.

Your chest felt tight with insecurity as you pulled up to them, hoping with all your might that Joel didn’t try to introduce you to Construction-Barbie.

“Alright, Meg. See ya at the party.” Joel waved to her as he opened the backseat for Sarah, a friendly—too friendly—smile on his face when he hopped in the passenger seat. “Hey baby,” Joel leaned forward for a kiss but you were still too jealous to oblige, giving him your cheek instead. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” you lied, nodding as you pulled out of the lot, the rest of the drive silent besides the pop on the radio and Sarah's soft hums.

After giving the two of them time to change into nicer clothes, all three of you piled into the car again with Joel in the driver's seat. Sarah talked about her day at work, how cool it was to work with Meg, and how surprising it was that the newcomer managed to make her dad laugh. You tried not to picture the scene.

Joel stopped at a grocery store, running in quickly to grab some beer and a few bags of chips to bring to the party while you and Sarah remained in the car.

“Meg sounds great,” you spoke, unable to keep your jealousy to yourself.

“She’s alright,” Sarah replied, seemingly noticing your insecurity. “A little chatty.”

“Your dad didn’t seem to mind,” you mumbled, mostly to yourself.

“She was a little flirty,” Sarah replied. “But dad didn’t seem to notice.”

You tried to shake the jealousy, knowing that it was silly and hormone-driven. Joel loved you. But that didn’t mean that he still couldn’t find someone else attractive at the same time.

At the party, you kept mostly to yourself. You were introverted on a good day, but with this heavy insecurity weighing you down, you found yourself retreating inward while everyone else mingled and carried on.

You were inside the house of Joel’s lead plumber, his wife buzzing around the house as she tried to corral her five children under five. You sat in the living room, watching and praying yours didn’t come out like that—loud and disobedient and restless.

“So, how far along are you?” she asked, breathless as she gave up and sat down on the loveseat across from you.

“Six months,” you replied with a small but friendly smile. “Got any advice for me?”

She chuckled and rolled her eyes. “Besides not havin’ ‘em in the first place? I don’t know—sleep whenever you can. They’ll suck the life outta you if you let ‘em.”

“A little bleak, honey,” Sean, her husband, walked in through the patio door, Joel following behind him.

“It’s the truth,” she argued, giving him a passive aggressive sigh. “It ain’t easy. ‘Specially if there’s only one parent home to do it.”

“Alright,” he chuckled, trying to ease the tension.

You stood, ready to venture beyond the tension anf chaos of the house, even if it meant having to enter the crowded backyard.

“You comin’ out?” Joel asked, holding his hand out for you to take. You accepted it and let him walk you outside. “That was brutal in there.”

“Yeah,” you agreed. Joel’s eyes scanned you as you stood beside him, staring ahead.

“You sure you’re alright? Been awfully quiet,” he noted.

“Yeah, just…feeling a little off today,” you lied.

Spotting a familiar head of strawberry blonde curls snorting with laughter as she stood with Tommy and Sarah by the grill. They both looked comfortable around her, making your stomach curl with a new type of jealousy. She wanted your entire family.

“Joel!” she called once she caught you staring. “Come over here and join us, darlin’!”

You resented the petname. Turning to Joel, you watched as his cheeks flushed, his eyes flickering to yours.

“C’mon,” he looked to you fully, attempting to slide his hand across your back but you stopped him, swatting his arm away. “Baby,” he began, but you were already too worked up to be consoled. “She calls everybody that.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” you muttered.

“Baby, you ain’t really jealous, are you?” He chuckled. Wrong move. With a furrow in your brow, you reached your hands into his pockets and tugged out the keys to the car.

“I’m going home. Call me when you wanna be picked up from your date.”

Joel called after you only once, not wanting to make a scene by raising his voice or following you out.

Back at home, you stewed. What started as hormonal territorialism quickly snowballed into justified rage. She’d clearly met your eyes, seeing you standing there beside him, and ignored you. Then, she proceeded to flirt with him right in front of you. Joel did nothing about it except for defend her, which was what you were currently most angry about.

As you aggressively turned the pages of the book you were reading to distract yourself, you were surprised to see headlights through the window. Closing your book, you got up and peeled through the blinds to see Joel and Sarah stepping out of a taxi, your cheeks heating as guilt set in. You didn’t mean for Sarah to get involved in your fight with Joel.

Hurrying upstairs, you heard the front door open, the two of them speaking downstairs but it was too faint to make any sense. As you stood in the bathroom, hurting your clothes off so that you could jump in the shower, you felt more than heard Joel’s heavy footsteps up the staircase. Soon, after you stepped into the shower, Joel found his way into the bathroom, announcing himself in the doorway.

“We’re home.” His voice was gentle, but carried a sadness to it that made you feel less angry and more guilty.

“Okay,” you managed.

“Can I come in?” he asked, the question lingering in the air for a bit before you answered.

“Yeah,” you decided.

In the matter of a few seconds, Joel was stripped and stepping in behind you, his eyes locked on yours.

“I’m sorry,” he started, stepping closer to you and the stream of water. “I told her that pet-name stuff wasn’t cool with me, but I guess she ain’t as good at listenin’ as she is talkin’.”

“She’s pretty,” you replied, desperate to keep hold of this jealousy.

“Tommy thinks so,” Joel added.

“And you?” He shook his head and rested his hands on the swell of your stomach.

“I’m too busy thinkin’ about you,” he replied. “Thinkin’ ‘bout our family.”

“I know you love me, Joel. It’s not about that,” you sighed, moving to turn around but he stopped you before you could even flinch, forcing you to look at him when you continued. “I want you to think I’m…pretty like that. To want me.”

“You don’t think I want you?” He chuckled, shaking his head in utter disbelief. “For someone who ‘doesn’t want you’, I sure seem to paw at you every minute of every day.”

“I guess you’re right,” you chuckled, finally seeing the light beyond all the dark gray that this storm of jealousy and insecurity you were caught in. “Just seeing you with someone so pretty, who does what you do—“

“First off, she’s alright. She ain’t half as good as Tommy promised me was. M’pretty sure they’re fuckin’ and that’s why he recommended her.” You laughed. “Secondly, I need you to know that it doesn’t matter who I’m standin’ next to. I’m only ever thinkin’ about the next time I get to see you.”

“You’re good at this,” you smiled, reaching to hold his face in your hands. “Defusing the bomb that is a pregnant woman’s mind.”

“You know…I think that’s the first time I ever saw you jealous,” he hummed, leaning in to press a soft, teasing kiss on your lips.

“It happens a lot, I’m just usually good at hiding it,” you whispered back, stealing a few kisses for yourself. “Think you should prepare yourself for more of this crazy. Might be this way until the baby comes.”

“I like the crazy,” he smiled.

Five years later — December 25th, 2009

“Iris, watch out—“ Your five year old daughter ran full speed through the kitchen and living room, your two year old son, Miles, clumsily chasing her with his brand new stuffed dinosaur. It was hard to be mad at either of them, their giggles filling the room along with the crunch of the wrapping paper littering the carpet beneath their feet.

“Alright,” Joel scooped both of his children up and threw them over his shoulder, earning squeals and laughter as he walked them over to the couch you were sitting on. He plopped kids onto your lap but only Miles stayed. Joel sighed and sat down beside you as Iris got up again, a mischievous grin on her face as she stood before the three of you, all eyes on her. “Well,” Joel started, lifting his hands before dropping them back onto his lap. “We paid for a show. Are you gonna sing for us, Hannah Montana?”

“Daddy, where’s the phone?” Iris asked, making a fist and then tapping it to help illustrate what she wanted.

“The microphone? Somewhere in all this mess,” you replied, gesturing to the mountain of wrapping paper on the floor. “Gotta go fishing for it, baby.”

Iris quickly got to work, making an arguably bigger mess as she searched for her brand new toy, a microphone that was supposed to be its own speaker as well, but truthfully wasn’t much louder than Iris’s voice.

“Hey, hey!” Sarah walked in the front door with a smile, two large bags in her hands stuffed full of wrapped presents. When she took in the mess, she frowned. “Ah, did you guys already do gifts?”

“Iris already had them open before we even got downstairs,” Joel replied as he walked to the door to take the bags from his now twenty year-old’s hands before giving her a tight hug. “Martin come along?”

Martin was Sarah’s boyfriend of two years, the pair meeting in her biology class freshman year of college.

“Yeah, he’s getting the bags,” Sarah replied before coming over to hug you tight.

“How are you? How’s school?” You missed having Sarah at the house but were more than proud of her for getting into the pre-med program at Stanford.

“School is school, but it’s been way easier now that we aren’t living in the dorms anymore.”

“Sissy!” Iris rushed up to her sister and waved her new Hannah Montana microphone in her face. “Sing with me.”

“Oh…yay,” Sarah forced a smile but looked to you for help.

“How about we open the gifts sissy brought instead?” you proposed and your daughter instantly agreed.

“How was the drive?” Joel spoke to Martin as he helped him carry the bags upstairs to Sarah’s old bedroom.

“Not too bad. Sarah snored the entire way.”

“Sorry ‘bout that. Think she gets it from me.”

When Joel and Martin returned from the second floor, they immediately found their spots beside their partners, each of them making the same pained groan as they sat down.

“God,” you chuckled, looking to Sarah who was already looking at you. “They’re the same person.”

“Gross. Hate that.”

“You gonna pass out the gifts or what?” Joel asked, unamused by the comparison.

As Sarah and Martin sorted out the gifts, handing a few to Iris, a few to Miles, two to you and one to Joel. Joel shook his head at the box handed to him, but Sarah’s round eyes got her her way every single time.

“Told you no gifts for me,” Joel grumbled as he ripped the wrapping. “Don’t want you spendin’ your money—“

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” she smiled, sitting down beside her boyfriend. “I think you’ll like this one. It’s a gift for everybody, but I think you’re going to have the most fun with it.”

You watched him rather than opening your own gifts, the small black box in his hand opening to reveal a key. Joel looked up with boyish eyes, shocked and excited and near tears all at the same time.

“What is it?” you asked, plucking the key from his hand.

“This ain’t—how—what?” Joel spoke through his shock.

“What’s it a key to?” you asked again, chuckling at the tears welling up in your husband’s eyes.

“My parents used to own this beat up old ranch in San Antonio, but had to sell it off when Sarah was a kid. I always wanted to buy it back and fix it up, but I just…never got around to it,” Joel finally replied to your questioning, turning to you with wet eyes and a big smile before looking at his daughter and her boyfriend. “How did—“

“My dad’s a realtor and knew the guy who was selling it, so Sarah and I put our money together to buy it back,” Martin detailed.

“In your name, so don’t get too excited. Mortgage isn’t gonna be that bad because we got it at twenty thousand and we put down a decent down payment,” Sarah added. “So, just a few hundred a month.”

“Baby girl,” Joel shook his head and looked down at the key. “How much do I owe y’all—“

“Dad, you took care of me my whole life. You deserve this. Besides, I just signed with a publisher for my book, so—“

“What?” you practically squealed, Miles covering his ears as he sat in your lap. “Congrats, baby girl!”

“Thank you, thank you,” she smiled and bowed, bringing your eyes to the shining rock on her ring finger. Joel seemingly noticed it too because his clapping suddenly ceased.

“What’s that?” he asked, his eyes shifting to Martin’s nervous stare.

“Shit—we were gonna announce it at dinner so Uncle Tommy could be here too, but…” She looked to her boyfriend. “We’re engaged.”

“Oh my god,” you gasped, your hands lifting to your mouth to hide the joy in your smile. “I’m so happy. Oh my god!”

“That’s bad, mommy,” Iris scolded. You nodded but pointed at Sarah’s ring.

“I known, but sissy’s getting married, baby!”

“Dad?” Sarah spoke to her father who sat frozen in shock. You turned to him as well, studying him carefully for any signs of anger or disappointment, but instead found only pride and joy. “Please don’t be mad. Martin wanted to ask first but I told him that’s too old school—“

“Baby, I’m not mad,” he assured softly, shaking his head as his eyes welled with fresh tears. “I’m just so happy.”

“Oh, dad,” Sarah cooed, her own eyes shedding tears as she walked over to hug her father close as he stood up. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, baby girl. So much.” Joel squeezed her once more before letting her go and turning to her fiancé. “And you too by proxy.”

After a long afternoon spent beside Joel at the computer studying the state of the ranch from the pictures Martin pulled up from the realtor, it was decided that Joel would take weekends off of work—not that he usually worked them anymore, the business having taken off so much that it forced him into a more managerial role—and drive down to the ranch to work on it, the kids and you invited of course but he understood if you didn’t want to, after all, “It ain’t gonna be pretty for a while, baby”. You agreed to let him check it out in person first before coming along because it seemed a little too dangerous for the kids with the property’s long, unmowed yard and old, untouched cabin.

Dinnertime came and so did Tommy and his girlfriend of one year—who also happened to be your good friend and a successful attorney—Maria, the two of them walking into a cleaner home than the one Sarah and Martin were greeted with. She had a six year old son, Kevin, who loved to play with your babies every time he came over.

“No fuckin’ way,” Tommy held up Sarah’s left hand to stare at the ring. “You were just a snot-nosed kid a second ago.”

“Yep,” she giggled.

“Well,” Tommy dropped her hand and looked to Martin, giving him a handshake. “You know who you’re gonna answer to if you hurt her.”

“Alright,” Joel interjected as he returned to the kitchen table that the adults were sat at while the kids played in the living room, The Grinch on in the background to busy them even more. He set a bottle of beer down in front of each of you, but Marin was quick to slide her bottle away from her. “No? And I bought the good shit just to impress y’all.”

“It’s just…” She looked to Tommy for help, the younger Miller smirking as he turned to the table.

“We’re havin’ a baby,” he announced and the table roared with applause and cheers. Joel’s smile was the widest, the two brothers locking eyes. Joel lifted his beer up to toast to life and the rest of you gladly clinked your bottles together in agreement. To life, indeed.

March, 2010

“So,” Joel started, a proud but nervous grin on his face as you climbed out of the passenger seat of the car to get a good look at the ranch. “What d’ya think?”

The long, unmowed grass was now trimmed neatly, making the land look so much bigger. Joel had fixed the gate, but you noticed that when he pulled in; he made sure to have a sign placed at the entrance reading “Miller Ranch” to properly fulfill his lifelong dream. The old, rickety cabin was now renovated and converted into a private den in case Sarah and Martin ever wanted to come stay for a while. Beside it stood a brand new ranch house, modest in size compared to the surrounding ranches, but it was big enough to hold three bedrooms, two baths, a kitchen, and a living room. But the part you loved most was the wrap-around porch he built by hand, painted a soft, pale yellow to contrast to the white of the home.

“I think,” you started, a smile growing on your face. “I wanna live here now.”

“Yeah?” he chuckled and approached you at the passenger side door, pressing you against it. “Why don’t we go inside? Maybe…test it out.”

“Mm, might as well take advantage of Tommy and Maria watching the kids,” you replied, your lips ghosting over his.

Joel tugged you along by the hand up the gravel driveway, allowing you the time to admire the little details like the swing he built onto the big oak tree between the den and the house, or the sneak peek you caught of rose bushes in the backyard. With each detail, you fell more and more in love with the property, and what was once a joke now turned into a serious longing—you wanted to move here. Bad.

“Ready?” Joel asked as he opened the screen door and rested his hand on the doorknob of the main, wooden door painted that same, soft yellow. You nodded at him and he opened the house, letting you walk in first, he flipped on the lights behind you as he entered. You gasped at the living room, how spacious but cozy it felt with a fireplace built in, not that the San Antonio weather ever really called for it.

Turning to the other side, you saw the dining room that connected into the kitchen via a square archway. You started that way, admiring the hand-made dining table before walking into the kitchen of your dreams. You let out a moan at the size of it, the brand new appliances that were a surprise but don’t worry, they’re on a lease.

Back in the hall, you carried on, admiring the framed pictures he’d hung of your joined family over the years, the smiling image of Sarah’s mother and Mary and Paul and everyone you’d lost bringing tears to your eyes.

“This is gonna be Miles’ room,” Joel opened the door to a room set up for a kid rather than a toddler aside from the bed with safety rails on it. You smiled at the thought of your son growing up here.

“And this?” you reached for the door across the hall and opened it to find a bathroom, modest but new.

“Kids bath,” he replied. Guiding you to the room beside Miles’, Joel opened it and displayed a soft pink painted bedroom that Iris was going to absolutely adore. “For baby girl.”

“Which means this has to be our room, right?” you asked, reaching for the door across from your daughter's room. “Little close, no?”

“Mm-mm,” he shook his head and entered the room, shutting the door behind him. He made a lot of noise, or at least that’s what you assumed from his heavy feet jumping on the hardwood floors, but you couldn’t hear much of anything. When he emerged, he was breathless and smiling. “Hear anything?”

“Felt you jumping around, but no,” you grinned. “You soundproofed it?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Took me a while to get it right but…we can make all the noise we want now.”

“Well,” you began, sliding your hands up his chest as you batted your eyes at him. “Why don’t we give it a proper go?”

“Yeah,” he hummed, leaning down to kiss you teasingly, forcing you to seek more of his mouth in yours. “Come on,” he rasped, tugging you into the bedroom. “There’s one more surprise on the tour before I can get you naked. Go take a look in the bathroom.”

You did as you were told, leaving him by the bed to walk into the en-suite. You gasped at the clawfoot tub perched by a large bay window, looking out at the garden of flowers he’d planted.

“Joel…you—“ You shook your head, eyes now raining tears as you stood in the middle of the bathroom. Joel laughed and came over to hold you as you buried your face in his chest. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, baby,” he chuckled, amused by your reaction. “You like it, I take it?”

“Like it?” you lifted your head and shocked him with the amount of tears soaking your eyes. “I’m about to get down on my knees.”

“You can get down on your knees after I get my fill, how about that?” he husked against your cheek as he kissed your tears. “Go lay down on the bed, baby. Everything off.”

You didn’t waste any time in obeying, practically skipping out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. Your shoes and jeans came off first, then your top, and finally your undergarments before you climbed onto the mattress to test it out. Joel walked in but remained patient at the foot of the bed as you laid in the center of the mattress, beckoning him closer with the curl of your finger. Joel grinned and peeled his t-shirt off before slowly, painfully slowly, undoing his belt and jeans.

“Roll over,” he commanded. “Wanna see somethin’.”

“I wonder, what ever could that be?” you joked, rolling onto your stomach and instinctively arching your ass into the air. Joel’s knees dipped the mattress as he crawled onto the bed behind you, his hands gripping the globes of your ass as he let out a groan.

“So pretty like this,” he hummed before surprising you with a broad lick up the seam of your cunt. “My country girl.”

“I’ll be whatever you want me to be, just don’t stop.” Joel laughed at your plea but obliged, licking you again. He kept at it, his tongue greedily and filthily lapping up every inch of you it could find before tensing and burying into your cunt while his fingers rubbed circles over your clit.

“Mm,” he hummed as he pulled away for a moment to speak. “There’s a gift for you in the nightstand. Why don’t you have a look?”

You chuckled hesitantly and crawled over the mattress to reach into the nightstand on your side of the bed, finding a long black box inside. You pulled it out and turned over to sit, facing Joel as he sat on his ankles at the foot of the bed. “Open it.”

“Is this—“ You silenced yourself by opening the box, your eyes taking in the sight of one of those wands you’d been desperately dropping hints about wanting to try out. “Oh, baby. You’ve got competition now.”

“Oh, do I?” he smirked, crawling to lay over you, forcing your head to rest back against the pillows. “That’s alright. Gettin’ too old to do all that work anyways. Might as well take all the help I can get.”

“You know you’ll always have one thing no one else has,” you purred, reaching to stroke his cock as it rested on your belly. “They couldn’t replicate this if they tried.”

“Mm,” he smiled against you. “You’re just flatterin’ me now.”

“Uh-uh,” you shook your head. “It’s perfect. The way you fill me up, the way it feels inside. I’ll never get enough.”

“Fuck, baby,” he whined against your jaw as he nibbled there. “Turn it on, wanna get you ready to take me. So damn hard for you, can’t even think.”

You flipped on the vibrator, gasping at the power behind it while Joel simply groaned.

“Go on,” he urged. “Press it to your clit, baby.”

“Fuck,” you hissed as you lowered it to your bundle of nerves, the whir of the vibrations making your thighs tense and jerk, but Joel’s hips stopped them from closing.

“Does it feel good?” he asked against your pulse as he kissed the skin there.

“Yes,” you panted. “But I want you.”

“Not ‘til you cum,” he replied, trailing his fingers down your belly, past the vibrator, and into your soaked entrance. You let out an animalistic moan, something primal and so unlike yourself. “God, baby,” he moaned against you as he curled his fingers up towards that dizzying spot inside. “You don’t make those noises for me. Maybe I do got competition.”

“Joel,” you whined, unsure of what to say or how to describe how good it felt to have him inside you along with this gift of an invention. “Please. Please.”

“Cum on my fingers,” he ordered, low and dark and right into your ear. “Then I’ll give you what you want.”

As if your body had simply been awaiting the order, you came immediately, squeezing him as you writhed beneath his weight, the vibrator turned off and tossed across the bed. Joel slid into you while you were still clenching around nothing, your breath getting knocked out of your lungs at the force of his thrusts inside. You felt like you transcended into some sinful sort of heaven, one where only you and Joel resided.

“God, baby,” he whined, his arms slid beneath the arch of your back to hug you tight as he pounded into you. “So fuckin’ wet. God, I need to cum. Been too long.”

“Those fuckin’ kids,” you managed a joke, earning a laugh before he found his rhythm again.

“Baby, fuck,” he warned, his voice as wrecked as yours as you screamed his name into the empty home, your nails scratching down his back as you begged him to let you cum again, as if he ever denied you. “Go on,” he urged, sitting up on his knees to watch his cock disappear into you only to come out covered in your shine. “Fuck, come on. Cum for me. Right fuckin’ now, baby.”

“Oh!” you screamed, again unlike yourself, and clawed at his arms for purchase as your orgasm hit so hard it might have been painful if it hadn’t felt so fucking good. “Joel, please, please, please. Cum inside me.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, his face scrunched up as he watched himself let go into your pussy, his eyes glued to where you were connected while pulsed inside of you with a deep growl. When he pulled out, he quickly lowered himself to the mattress and nestled between your thighs, fucking his spend back into you with his finger while his tongue swiped round and round over your clit until you were begging him to stop. “Too much?”

“For now,” you grinned. “How much longer do we have until we have to get back on the road?”

“I’d say a couple hours,” he replied, sated but a hint of mischief in his voice. “We could always try out that new bath.”

“God, I love you.” You pulled him up and kissed deeply. “So glad you showed up to that parent teacher conference.”

“Thank you for givin’ Sarah and I a family again,” he whispered. “I love you so much, baby. I—gonna get me all choked up. I love you.”

“I love you.”

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[paradisedixon]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴏꜰꜰɪᴄᴇ, ᴘᴛ 2

leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: au where no outbreaks have occurred. chris, jill, leon, and you all work for the RPD, you working as the STARS secretary. you’ve had a crush on a certain blue eyed officer for nearly a year, and chris and jill are getting impatient.

warning(s): bestie!chris redfield, kissing, swearing

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

“Chris.. why are you here?” Leon had his front door open directing a deadpan stare at Chris Redfield, who stood at his doorstep with a 12 pack of Coors Light under one arm and about a dozen magazines under the other. Leon was a bit mopey that weekend, his year-long crush had just told him she liked someone else. He couldn’t bring himself to ruin the friendship they had, so he kept himself silent. All he wanted was for her to be happy and if this was the way, then so be it. He could move on. Hopefully.

“I heard.” Was all Chris said before he pushed passed the young officer and into the small apartment. Leon stared at the now empty hallway in front of him where Chris used to be, shaking his head in exasperation. Not like I wanted to relax on my day off.

“Yeah, sure, come on in!” Leon spoke sarcastically into the air, shutting his door and locking it. He turned on his socked heel and watched as Chris placed the beers on his coffee table and plopped the stack of magazines next to them.

“May I ask what you heard, exactly?” Leon folded his arms together in moderate annoyance, and Chris placed his hands on his hips and observed his friend. Leon had on a plain black wrinkled t-shirt, a pair of gray sweatpants, and a pair of white socks on his feet. His hair was frizzy, telling Chris he’d been in bed all day.

“Come on, it’s four in the afternoon and you’re not even dressed, which is not you. There’s only one explanation for this behavior, Kennedy, and I think it had to do with our favorite secretary.” Chris’ implication coaxed a groan from Leon’s lips, and Chris hummed in contentment and Leon’s reaction.

“How the hell do you know about that?” Leon finally made his way to his couch, practically flopping down on the soft, blue cushions, crossing his ankles on the coffee table. Chris followed suit, cracking open two beers in the process.

“I know everything.” Chris spoke as if his statement was the most obvious thing in the world, a sarcastic shrug eliciting a light scoff from Leon, who accepted the beer from his friend reluctantly. Chris sighed in preparation, staring at the magazines.

“Should I even ask what those are for?” Leon sipped on his beverage as Chris tossed one onto Leon, taking another one from the pile for himself.

“We’re coming up with a plan to get you the girl.” Leon stared in bewilderment at the magazine in his lap that read Cosmopolitan across the top in big, pink letters. He then shot a glance at Chris, who was already reading the How to know a guy likes you article in his Seventeen magazine.

“Uh.. Chris, I don’t think this is gonna help me much.” Leon picked up the magazine, Britney Spears staring back at him with a pout. Tell me about it. He turned his gaze to Chris, who sagged his shoulders and let the magazine fall limp in his grasp.

“That’s exactly what Jill said.” Chris murmured, closing his eyes.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Chris yanked the magazine from Leon’s hand and threw them back on the pile, sitting back against the couch and sighing dramatically, “so what the hell are we gonna do now?” Leon furrowed his brows and scoffed.

“That was your big plan?”

“I had to call my damn sister for these,” Chris sighed in disappointment and sucked on his teeth, “anyways, it’s more than you’re doin’, buddy.” Chris took a few chugs from his beer, then let it rest on his thigh. Leon rolled his eyes at his friend. I can’t believe he actually thought I’d read these for advice.

“Seriously, though. What are you gonna do?” Leon sighed and shook his head, simultaneously tapping his finger on the neck of the bottle.

“Nothing. She likes somebody else.” Chris rolled his eyes at his oblivious friend.

“Right,” Chris said flatly, “somebody else. Who is this somebody else, may I ask?”

“She didn’t say.” Chris hummed in an exaggerated acknowledgment of Leon’s answer.

“She didn’t say, huh?” Leon looked at Chris with a mixture of confusion and suspicion. Chris was stroking his chin as if he were in deep thought. Yeah as if there’s anything up there.

“What do you know?” Leon finally asked. Chris’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree, and a smile tugged at his lips.

“I may or may not know who this mysterious crush is.” Leon straightened his back on the couch, practically throwing his beer on the coffee table.

“You do?!” Chris nodded.

“Mhm. Matter of fact, we both know him. Well.” So he works at the station. I could’ve guessed that. Probably one of the older guys, they usually have a good reputation with the women in the department. Well we did get a few new recruits, but they seemed too immature—

“You have no idea, do you?”

“Nope.”

“I bet he still has no fucking clue.”

Jill was standing next to you in your kitchen as you washed your dishes, her arms crossed over her chest. She called you while you were stress cleaning your apartment, so she came right over and was trying to talk your anxiety down.

“Why can’t I just tell him? Or kiss him? Or.. do something other than kiss him?” Jill gave you a look and you sighed.

“We’ve been over this. It’s way more fun to see him squirm.” You groaned as Jill chuckled.

“But I’ve liked him for so long and only now figured out that he likes me too! Now I won’t be able to focus on anything else,” you gasped, “how am I gonna be able to work?! Before it was just daydreaming about his face, but now I won’t even be able to look at him without thinking about how big his—“

“Okay, okay! Down, girl,” you giggled at Jill’s disgust, “if you really want him that bad just go to his place now. Chris told me he’s home, just give me the word and you’ll have him all to yourself.” You gaped at her and she raised a brow, pulling out her flip phone from her pocket. You threw your eyes back and forth from the phone to Jill’s smirk. Dreams really do come true!

“..really?” Jill rolled her eyes and pressed a button on her phone and placed it against her ear. You dried your hands off in your towel and kissed her on the cheek, taking off to your bedroom to change out of your lazy day clothes.

“Hold on, man, it’s Jill.”

Leon sighed heavily at the suspense as Chris pulled out his phone.

“Yes, Schnookums?” Chris cooed, and Leon groaned, chucking the throw pillow he previously leaned against at Chris’s head, eliciting a cackle from the larger man.

“I can’t believe you just called me that— Anyways, our girl wants alone time with the Rookie, so make sure he stays home until she gets there.” Chris gasped softly and glanced his eyes down at Leon, who had a scowl on his face from the disgusting pet name, his beer raised to his lips.

“Already?” He mumbled into the phone, and Jill laughed.

“Just stay there, and let it be a surprise.” Chris and Jill said their goodbyes and hung up. Chris looked around the room, trying to find a viable excuse to stay. He spotted a set of dvds in Leon’s entertainment center below his TV.

“Boys night!” Chris hollered, and Leon groaned into his hand loudly, throwing his head back against the couch as Chris shuffled through his movie selection.

“I knew I should’ve never told you where I live.”

*✩*

“Alright.. how do I look?” You wore the best date outfit you could find, and you were currently nervously fiddling with the strap of your purse hanging from your shoulder. What if it’s too much? What if I read him wrong? Oh fuck what if I try to kiss him and he totally rejects me!I’d have to quit my job—

“Hot!” Jill exclaimed, mouth gaping open. She looked you up and down and you felt your cheeks turn red, shifting from foot to foot. The skirt of your dress flowed freely to just above your knees, the bodice hugging your chest in all the right places. The dress was casual enough that it didn’t look like you were trying to hard, but sexy enough to catch someone’s eye. You had put on light makeup, just your mascara and eyebrows with a bit of lipstick.

“What if I totally read this whole thing wrong?” You admitted your doubts, and Jill’s shoulder sagged.

“Trust me, you didn’t. I’ve been telling you the whole time that he likes you! You only thought I was teasing because you couldn’t see it for yourself.” Jill’s words of assurance relaxed you, and you nodded, gaining some of your confidence back. She stepped forward and rubbed her hands up and down your arms soothingly.

“You look hot as fuck, and I would be truly surprised if he doesn’t see that. I would also be red hot and murderous.” You giggled at her temper, taking her hands in yours.

“Okay, okay, I’m hot. Thanks, Jill.” She nudged your cheek with her knuckle and nodding her head at the front door.

“Now go get him, Tiger. I expect details in the morning.” She winked and you groaned.

“I swear you’re just like my mother. Although I’m not particularly opposed—“

“Just go!”

*✩*

Leon was currently staring at his television screen, four beers in, and absolutely hating Chris Redfield. He glanced over at his friend who was currently sobbing at The Notebook, two throw pillows clutched to his chest.

“They loved each other so much.” Chris cried, tears streaming down his face. Leon threw a hand onto his back with a sigh and rubbed between his shoulder blades as Chris buried his face in the pillows.

“It’s okay, buddy. Just let it out.” Chris’s sobs continued and Leon rolled his eyes.

“Could you believe Jill has never cried to this movie? She’s made of stone, man!” Could this night get any worse?

A knock on his front door freed him from his current suffering.

“I’ll get it!” Leon jumped up and briskly walked to his front door, throwing it open, but stopping short.

“Hey, Leon.” You shyly smiled up at him. You giggled as his mouth flopped open and closed, staring you up and down. You blushed, shifting on your feet.

“H-Hey! What are you doing here?” A smile quirked up on his lips, and you were about to answer when Chris interrupted, no trace of tears on his face.

“I’ll see you later, Rookie!” Chris walked past the both of you, patting your shoulder and giving you a wink, the blush on your cheeks deepening. Leon was giving him an incredulous look before shaking his head.

“Come on in.” He chuckled, and he stepped aside for you and closed the door behind you. You looked around his apartment, cocking your head at the sight of the stack of magazines on his coffee table.

“Why do you have, like, thirty Cosmos?” You chuckled, picking one up with Lindsay Lohan. Leon made his way over to you and laughed with you, though his sounded a little more nervous.

“Oh, you didn’t know? I love these things,” you quirked an eyebrow, “y’know, hair care is everything.” You giggled at his nervousness as he plucked the magazine from your fingers and placed it on the stack.

“So this is how you get it to look so good?” Leon’s eyes widened at your flirting, and you smiled with feigned innocence. Then he started thinking about his hair, and he almost panicked when he realized he probably looked like a bum. I didn’t even do my hair today!

“Speaking of, I didn’t actually expect to see you today.. especially at my place.” You laughed nervously and glanced down at your shoes. You can’t go back now, just say it!

“About that, Leon..” You plucked up your courage and took a step towards him, closer than you’d ever been, looking up at him through your lashes. He looked as if he were frozen as he stared down at you, a light red gracing his cheeks.

“There’s something I need to tell you, but I think it’s be better if I just showed you..” Leon nodded mutely, and you took another step. Your chests brushed up against each other and you heard him suck in a breath as you raised a hand to drag it up his arm, the muscles feeling better than anything you’d imagined. Your other hand raised to connect with his other arm and his large hands instinctively snaked around your waist, resting on your hips. His touch sent sparks throughout your whole body, like an unseen force pulling you closer to him.

You reached your nose up and brushed it against his, as light as a feather, asking him for permission. A beat passed, your heart was in your throat in doubt, but your eyes fluttered closed as his lips finally pressed themselves to yours.

The butterflies in your stomach erupted like a volcano as you dragged one of your hands to place on his chest and the other to his cheek, resting them there. One feather-light kiss turned into two, then three, and soon they were deepening as you brushed your tongue against his lips.

Leon’s grip on your hips got tighter as he pulled you impossibly closer to him, his warm, wet tongue licking into your mouth seductively. You let him kiss you silly, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting your fingers impulsively run through his soft hair. My fucking god what conditioner does he use? Okay not now—

You tugged on his hair just a bit, not even paying attention—maybe a little, and Leon moaned into your mouth, making you weak at the knees. Leon broke the kiss with a pop to look at you with hooded eyes, his lips now plump and wet. They then turned up into a playful smirk.

“So the guy-?”

“Is you, Leon.” You both smiled wide and Leon chuckled, rubbing his hands up and down your back.

“I should’ve known.” You giggled as he took you lips once more, and gave you arguably the best night of your life.

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

[A/N] im so sorry i robbed y’all PLEASE FORGIVE ME!!! but thank you guys so much for reading part 1!! i didn’t expect the amount of support and it means so much! i had a lot of fun writing this i hope you had fun reading <3

[[decided to tag everyone who asked for a part 2 <3 @drizzyxrs @kittenkiryu @angiekurosaki @wanderlustingcastaway @dargoww @worriedweirdo @brittlecakes92 @quartzzzzzzz]]

[evsstolenhearts]

FUCKING IDIOT

YOUR A TEENAGER IN THE SHAW PACK AND MISSED YOUR BUS. YOUR PARENTS ARENT ANSWERING THE PHONE, WHO DO YOU CALL?

David: will pick you up and see why you missed the bus, if the bus never showed up and your friend is there, he'll give em a ride as well and talk to the school. If you where late and missed it, he might scold you a bit, but will be surprisingly chill bc it wasn't completely in your control. Tells you that if you need a ride home, to call him.

Asher: idk man..... you DID miss the bus.... your gonna be LATE anyways..... let's skip school :] will pick up, give you a ride, and go shopping.

Milo: pulls up blasting Gimme More by Britney Spears, specially at the "ITS BRITNEY BITCH" part, honks his horn and yells "GET IN BITCH, WE'RE GOING TO GET STARBUCKS" and somehow getting Starbucks gets yall side tracked where you then go and get pancakes, then there's a mall near bye... you get the idea. Sweetheart is laughing their asses off, David a bit upset and your parents are kinda, maybe, a little... pissed? NO one expected this from milo.

Tank: sends Sam. Awkward ride to school, they both will pick you up after school tho. Your gonna be walking to the bus and all of a sudden a black car with heavily tinted windows pulls up blasting "Hollaback Girls" by Gwen Stefani while Tank is halfway out the window with a shit eating smirk.

Marie: answers, picks you up, checks you into school, makes sure your safe, gives you rudes the rest of the weeks without giving you shit bc it's a bus ride, not missing an exam, or the SAT, or anything else. She understands school is hard and doesn't need to put more pressure on you.

[sgftxtinajb]

[theold-ultraviolence]

hey irma!! for the valentines prompts can i request aemond with you’re driving me crazy and mutual pining? 🖤💋

You Drive Me Crazy • Modern!Aemond Targaryen x reader • 18+

summary: There's no way Aemond Targaryen would ever notice you, a waitress from the dingy little diner...or is there? NSFW Warning: Itty bitty glimpse of public sex (?) they're in an empty dinner, no one sees // Song prompt: (You Drive Me) Crazy by Britney Spears // Vday prompts: #6 mutual pining, #12 secret admirers. • 2023 Vday ficlet fest masterlist

Baby, I'm so into you

“ – AT” Is your only clue. There, in one of the diner tables you were cleaning, someone had left a single red rose, with those initials on a note. 

‘AT’ could stand for a number of names, but you can only associate those initials to bright lilac and silver blonde.

What can I do?

He drives you absolutely mad, bonkers, insane – just – fucking crazy. 

You’d never have imagined a guy such as Aemond Targaryen, one of the snobby art history students, in a dingy place like the little diner across campus, where you work at. As a starving college student you had to make ends meet, but him? 

And yet, he was here almost every night, with a book as his sole companion, always ordering either the soup of the day with some lemonade and tea afterwards, or a cup of coffee with a pastry. 

He drives you crazy because he never says a thing. But regardless of his silence, he just has something that intrigues you – attracts you, so damn much. You exchange glances from across the diner, he lingers for a bit while ordering his meals. When other waitresses go up to serve him he always dismisses them politely, waiting until you come by his table. Then there’s the way he flushes when you take him by surprise and ask about the books he reads. The way you catch him staring at your legs in your uniform dress. 

You feel like you’re losing it. 

Tell me I'm not in the blue, 

That I'm not wasting my feelings on you

February knocks on your door, bringing with it the promise of change. The month of pink and red roses and romance in the air. It thrills you, pushes you to take the risk and leave your phone number on one of his receipts one time. 

All night, you tossed and turned, waiting, wondering if he was gonna call or text. 

But he never did. 

Was he ignoring you because he’s not interested? Are you that low on the social sphere for him? 

You drive me crazy

I just can't sleep

Dreaded Valentine’s day rushes in with zero prospects except for an evening on your feet and the diner jam-packed with annoying couples who couldn’t be bothered to turn down their ruckus or clean up a little bit after themselves. You could barely catch a break, much less look around for a glimpse of him. He must’ve had plans with someone else already. And you swear, regardless of how busy you were, you definitely would’ve spotted his gorgeous head of silver hair. 

There’s no way he had left you that rose, probably someone else had forgotten it. 

You trace the soft petals with yearning, all alone, stalling on cleaning the dining floor because your heart beats too loudly within you, renderring you motionless.

The little chime of the doorbell rings – and you’re ready to send the customer out with a huff until you turn and see him. 

Your breath escapes you.

Everything around you dims except for his luminous pressence.

“I see you got my note.” His voice is a soft contrast to all the leather he wears, his lips curl ever so carefully one might miss it if you’re not looking closely. But you do, you always have. 

You smile, bringing the rose to your chest. “You didn’t get my phone number.” You just had to throw it out there. You had to know. 

“I did. I couldn’t tell you how many times I pulled up my messages, ready to text you, but I never knew what to say. I’ve never been good with words.” 

You bite your lip as you look at him.

Step by step, he approaches you, with his eye intently fixed on yours. 

It’s valentine’s day, after all.

Maybe all that February magic would find you once more, if only you took a little leap of faith. With a rush of adrenaline pumping in your veins, you ask. 

“Then what are you good with?” Your voice comes out way more sultry than you’d intended, and the way his pupil dilates has you clutching at your rose or else your hands would be on him in a second. 

And they are. 

I'm so excited, I'm in too deep

crazy, but it feels alright

They are.

Not just your hands, but your legs, snaking around his waist the moment he sits you on the counter and fits himself all snug against you, grinding on your throbbing core.  

“You drive me crazy,” You whine, grasping at the lapels of his leather jacket, urging him to take it off now, though he’s too busy with one hand unzipping your uniform dress and the other hiking up your skirt.

He’s hungry for you, desperate to feel every inch of your skin that's revealed when the top half of your dress slips down your shoulders. 

“Just as you do to me,” He rasps as he showers you with kisses – his presence all consuming, it leaves you trembling, struggling to unzip his pants. 

You don’t even remember how you managed to do it, or if it had been you who’d done it – all thoughts wipe out of your brain the moment you feel him entering you, splitting you open and embracing you with all his warmth. 

You’re thankful the curtains of the dinner are all rolled down so no one would see you clinging to his shoulders; thankful for his intoxicating scent right underneath his jaw where you muffle your moans. 

He drives you crazy, he still does. He's never stop.

He doesn't stop until every muscle in your body has been left shaking.

Doesn't stop, even after you’re wiping yourselves down when you’re through, kissing each other delicately, as if each kiss carried all the words that had been meant to be said all this time, but could never make it out of your lips.

At night, you lay awake reminiscing about the feeling of him inside, when a beep from your phone startles you. 

 Finally.

All the wait had been worth it, the moment you see his text, shining brightly from your phone screen:

Baby, thinking of you keeps me up all night

A/N: BESTIES thank you SO, SO much for participating in my little ficlet fest!! it means a lot and it fills my heart with joy to see that you coincided with the prompts! I'm sending you all a big bouquet of your favorite flowers and all the valentine's goodies!! hope you enjoyed this!! x

[karahalloway]

(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 19 - Field Day

Fandom: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series Summary: The social season may be over, but Harper Gale’s problems are just beginning. With everyone at court a potential suspect, can she and Drake survive the engagement tour and get to the bottom of the plot against her and clear her name? An AU take of TRR2 featuring my OTP - Harper & Drake.

Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions

Chapter Summary: It's off to the bridal boutique, but Harper and Olivia have a secondary agenda...

Word Count: 6,200

Rating/Warnings: M (royal bitchiness, possible emotional abuse, kidnapping, threats of murder)

Chapter theme song:

A/N: So, I have tried to keep everything as realistic and accurate as possible in terms of the locations that are touched on in this chapter. The only thing that is made up is the antique store. As usual, translations for the French and Italian are at the end.

Chapter 19 - Field Day

The five-minute drive to the bridal boutique is every bit as excruciatingly awkward as can be expected.

"What part of we are already running late is so difficult to comprehend?" derides Madeleine before the limo door even shuts. "When I tell you to hurry, I expect you to do exactly that!"

"I'm sorry, Lady Madeleine," stammers Penelope tearfully. "The heel of my shoe became caught on—"

"Save it!" the Countess of Fydelia snaps. "If you cannot do something as simple as totter down a corridor without breaking your neck, then frankly, I do not see how you are supposed to be of use to me."

Penelope's face turns whiter than a sheet. "I—"

"As lest you forget, I took you on as a lady-in-waiting as a favour to your family, given the historically close personal relationship between our fathers," Madeleine reminds her with a steely edge to her voice. "But that does not mean that I cannot send you packing just as easily. And if you do not get your act together, then that is exactly what will happen. Am I clear!"

"Yes," Penelope whimpers, lowering her gaze.

"What was that?" demands Madeleine imperiously.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"And the same goes for the rest of you," adds Madeleine, casting the haughty gleam of her gaze over the limo. "One misstep — proverbial or otherwise — and you are gone. Not just from my employ, but from court as well."

Shifting my gaze over to Hana, I see that she is just as perturbed as I am about this borderline psychotic power-trip.

Talk about being a queen bitch...

Olivia scoffs from her seat in the corner. "How about you try making a threat you can actually carry out..."

Madeleine bristles. "As Queen I will have the authority to—"

"Do exactly what Christian permits you to do," Olivia interjects flatly, examining her nails. "As lest you forget, you will only ever be a queen consort — not queen regnant."

The Countess of Fydelia's eyes narrow. "That is but a technicality."

"I still wouldn't overplay my hand," Olivia cautions with a smile. "Wouldn't want to get caught out on a technicality now, would you?"

Madeleine glares down the length of the limo like a viscous viper.

"Didn't think so," smirks the Duchess of Lythikos as the driver pulls the vehicle to a stop...

...and the paps immediately descend on us like a swarm of black flies.

"What the—?" I blurt, catching the flash of the cameras through the blacked-out windows. "When did they get here?"

"Five minutes ago," replies Madeleine tartly, slotting a pair of shades on.

My jaw drops. "You... told them where we were going?"

"Of course," she affirms as the Royal Guard who had been riding shotgun manages to squeeze his way through the human press to open the door. "Royal patronage elevates the esteem and profile of any institution. It is only right that the press should be invited to cover the visit."

"Like that's the only reason..." I mutter as Madeleine steps out of the limo and the roar of the crowd becomes deafening.

"Contessa!" several people shout. "Contessa Maddalena! Quaggiù, per favore!"

"It's horse shite, by the way," Olivia advises as she slides past me. "The only thing she is looking to promote is herself."

"Well, she definitely seems to be succeeding..." I admit, watching the Guards struggle to hold the photographers back as Madeleine sashays her way towards the doors of the boutique.

Olivia scoffs. "It's an act of desperation. Nothing more. She knows she is on thin footing with Christian... and the public."

"Great..." I groan, pulling Drake's blue aviators from my clutch as I, too, exit the limo.

Rather than being an unfortunate one-off, it seems like yesterday's altercation at the Apple Harvest Festival was actually the opening salvo in a concerted campaign of media brinksmanship that Madeleine is determined to win.... at my expense.

Yet, I'm just not sure I have it in me to play her contrived publicity game. The paps have already up-ended my life more completely than I would've ever thought possible, so the last thing I want to do is pander to their voracious appetite for scandal.

"Duchessa Harper! Duchessa Harper!" the photographers shout as I step out onto the sidewalk. "You made it to Italy! What do you think of the city so far?"

"You did not travel with the King and future Queen! Were you forced to make alternative arrangements because of your argument?"

"Will you attend the opera tonight?"

"When was the last time you spoke to your family? Is it true you cut all ties with them?"

Gritting my teeth, I force myself to keep my head down and my feet moving forward as the invasive questions zing over my head like bullets. Camera bulbs flash in my face as the photographers press in, trying to get that front page close-up...

...and that's when I spot him.

My heart skips an uncomfortable beat as recognition hits me like a punch in the chest.

Oh, my God, the photographer from Applewood!

He's standing in the second row, regarding me almost casually, like a tourist at a zoo, faded red baseball cap slung backwards over his head, just as in the picture Ana de Luca had saved on the flash drive.

Our eyes meet and I stumble to a stop, unable to tear my gaze away, my morbid curiosity overpowering my senses even as the paps close in around me...

...but then I feel the warmth of a hand on my back and the sound of a familiar voice brings me back to earth.

"Nous vous tienons, Demoiselle," Allard assures me, appearing at my side to shield me from the press invasion.

Glancing up, I see that Schweitzer has taken up position in front of me, using his body like a blocker to force a path through the crush.

Curling into the safety offered by my Guard's no-nonsense attitude, I let them whisk me into the boutique.

"Thank you..." I say sincerely as we pass through the doorway into the foyer.

Allard relinquishes his hold on me with a nod. "Certainement. Vous allez bien?"

"Yeah..." I reply, heart pounding as I try to recollect my bearings. "I just—"

"Oh, my gosh!" gasps Hana, stumbling into the boutique behind us. "That was horrible!"

"C'est le bordel!" agrees Kiara as she and Penelope manage to squeeze themselves through the press before the Guards shut the door. "Qu'est-ce qu'elle croyait?"

"She wasn't," Olivia replies flatly, shooting an accusatory glance over her shoulder at Madeleine, who is already being given a queen's welcome by the boutique's owner.

A tense silence descends as we all process this assessment.

"I... I suppose we should go through," Hana suggests eventually.

"Oui," Kiara affirms with a huff, smoothing the front of her dress. "Sa Majesté expects our assistance."

Penelope glances uncertainly towards the fuss being made over Madeleine. "I don't think she's expecting mine..."

"Don't be silly!" Kiara admonishes, looping her arm through her friend's to tug her forward. "She just had a petite éclat. Every bride gets nervous and she is under a lot of pressure to maintain constant perfection. But that is why we need to help her, non?"

Penelope looks like she's about to disagree, before finally acquiescing with a sigh. "I just miss Merlin and Morgana..."

"J'sais..." consoles Kiara, patting her reassuringly on the back of the hand. "Hopefully once the tour is finished, Madeleine will allow you to send for them."

"I doubt it..." Penelope mutters meekly as they join Madeleine in the store proper. "She said she hates yappy little dogs. You don't suppose they have anything here with poodles on them, do you?"

"I don't think this boutique specialises in that type of lingerie..."

"Oh..."

"I'm sure they have some pretty floral designs, though!" Hana offers encouragingly. "Italian lace is known around the world for its intricate rebrodè detailing."

"Yes, because that's what men care about on the wedding night..." Olivia mutters dryly, turning towards me. "You coming, or what?"

"Huh?" I ask, snapping my head up. "Umm... Yeah. Sorry."

"You better be," she snips disdainfully as she starts down the foyer as well. "I refuse to be the only sane participant in this clown show..."

I glance warily back towards the front of the boutique, where the paps were still battling each other, trying to snap a shot of us through the tastefully curated window displays.

"What?" Olivia objects after a beat. "No snide comment? No wry clap-back? You're not conveniently coming down with a sudden fever, are you?"

"I... I saw him," I admit, tearing my gaze away from the feeding frenzy outside.

Olivia grabs my wrist to yank me to a stop. "Saw who?"

"The photographer," I say tightly, pulling my arms around myself in a bid to stop myself from shivering, despite the record-breaking temperatures outside. "From Applewood."

"Dion Guillard..." clarifies Olivia, staring at me intently. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," I nod.

Olivia purses her lips. "He could be here on his own volition, or because someone invited him. Either way, we should make use of this opportunity."

"How?"

"By making him an offer he can't refuse," she replies slyly, pulling her phone out.

My eyes widen. "You mean right now? But Madeleine—"

"Has enough sycophants coddling her already," she counters flippantly as she quickly types up a text. "We only have one chance to do this. Do you want the truth, or not?"

I swallow down the lump in my throat. "I do."

"Good," she nods, slotting her phone away again. "You don't mind if I borrow your hunks, do you?"

"Umm..."

"I'll take that as a 'yes'," she responds, clicking her fingers authoritatively at Allard and Schweitzer. "Meet me in the back in fifteen minutes."

Before I have a chance to respond, Olivia has already spun on her heel and is striding towards the rear of the store, my two Guards in tow.

"'Kay..." I mutter under my breath.

I have no idea what Olivia's plan is... much less how she thinks to arrange a clandestine meeting with the photographer under Madeleine's nose while there's an entire army of paps parked outside watching our every move.

But I've learned during the course of the social season that the Scarlet Duchess is as enterprising as she is resourceful, having pulled a number of successful ploys in a bid to advance herself in the competition. And Drake seems to trust her implicitly, otherwise, he wouldn't have asked her to keep an eye on me while he's off in Dubai.

So, it looks like I'm just going to have to trust her, too.

Taking a deep breath, I move towards the other end of the shop floor, pretending to peruse the various items on offer while I wait for the allotted time to tick down.

Luckily, Madeleine is busy loudly shooting down each and every lingerie option that is presented to her by both the boutique staff and her increasingly frazzled ladies-in-waiting, so nobody really notices when I announce a pretend visit to the restroom.

Slipping back out into the foyer, I move as casually as possible towards the back of the store, knowing that the paps are still watching me like hawks through the windows.

Rounding the corner, I allow myself to speed up a bit, casting my gaze left and right, looking for Olivia...

...when I'm suddenly yanked into a dimly-lit storeroom stacked with cardboard boxes and plastic-wrapped veils and dresses.

"Hey! What the—?" I protest as the door is shut promptly behind me.

"You're late," Olivia informs me dryly, clicking the lone light bulb on above us.

"Sorry, I had t—"

I reel back in horror as my eyes land on the bound and gagged form of Dion Guillard perched on top of a box of lingerie.

"Oh, my God!" I gasp. "When the heck did this turn into a kidnapping?"

"Ten minutes ago," she replies breezily.

I drop my head in my hands. "I am going to jail... I am literally going to jail..."

"Oh, ye of little faith..." Olivia admonishes, stepping over to the photographer.

He shrinks instantly back from her.

My brows shoot skywards. "Jesus Christ... What did you do to him?"

"Nothing," she shrugs. "Yet..."

A chill runs down my spine. Apparently, Olivia's reputation is more than well deserved...

"I presume you know who we are?" she asks Dion levelly, coming to a stop in front of him.

The man nods tightly, brows bunched together beneath the line of his baseball cap.

"And your current circumstances leave you under no illusions as to the lengths we're willing to go to obtain — by force, or otherwise — the clear and unvarnished truth?"

His gaze slips to meet mine for a second before sliding back to Olivia's to give her the barest of nods.

"Good," she smiles, reaching towards him. "Then this will go that much faster."

In one quick motion, she yanks the scrunched-up handkerchief from the photographer's mouth, making him wheeze.

"Sa mère la pute de—"

"Who are you working for?" Olivia demands, folding her arms.

Dion spits on the floor next to her feet. "I'm a freelancer. I work for—"

"We know who you are," Olivia interjects with a wave of her hand. "You're a lowlife slug who's willing to do anything to make a name for himself. You demonstrated as much when you sold compromising photos of my friend here to the press. The question is, who hired you?"

Dion scoffs. "Nobody hired me. I work for myself! That is what I've been trying to—!"

"Liar," Olivia accuses. "We know you didn't just stumble upon this by yourself. Who's your client?"

"Nom de dieu..." he disparages under his breath. "I told you already, I—"

Olivia is suddenly up in his face, knife pressed to his throat. "And I didn't like your answer."

Dion jerks back instinctively. "Your petite friend is correct... You are going to jail..."

"They'll have to find your body first," she tells him silkily. "What little will be left of it, anyway... Because no one here is going to the police. And I'm sure that your so-called friends out the front will secretly be glad for your unexplained loss. The freelance photography business is oh-so cutthroat, after all..."

"Tu es une salle grace..." he snarls through clenched teeth.

Olivia presses the knife tighter. "Then you should know that it's not in your interest to test what's left of my patience..."

Dion laughs bitterly. "À quoi ça rime? You say already that you will just—"

"What if we paid you?" I interject, stepping forward.

Olivia's head snaps angrily around. "Harper, stay out of—!"

"Paid me?" the photographer cuts in, eyes swirling to meet mine with interest.

"To give us the information we're after... voluntarily," I clarify, in a bid to avoid the impending bloodshed. "And to sell us the photos from Applewood."

Dion frowns. "I already sold the pictures to the papers..."

"Not all of them," I correct, hoping against hope that my gut instinct is correct and I haven't just torpedoed Olivia's interrogation for nothing. "You only sold the ones you were told to sell — the ones that fit your client's narrative."

Dion seems to assess me in a new light. "You come prepared... Fine. I'll do as you ask... for five million."

"Ducats?" asks Olivia.

"Euros."

I very narrowly catch my jaw from falling to the floor at the sound of the obscene price tag.

"You've been paid once already," counters Olivia. "The highest we can go is one million."

"Four," insists Dion, somehow managing to find the balls to negotiate even with a knife pressed to his throat. "There are a lot of pictures."

"Which no one else is willing to buy, so two is our best and final offer."

"Three," declares Dion. "And I'll forget this conversation ever happened."

Olivia purses her lips for a moment, before whipping the knife away with a flourish. "Fine. Start talking."

Dion lets out a low exhale. "I received a call some days before the Jamboree. The person had a tip on one of the Prince's suitors, and said it would make big news if it got out. Naturally, I was interested."

"Who was this person?" I ask.

"I don't have a name," he replies. "The tip was anonymous, and the call came from a hidden number."

"Was it a man or a woman?" Olivia queries.

"A man."

Olivia and I exchange a glance. Tariq or Godfrey.

"How did you get into Applewood?" I ask, turning back to Dion.

"A security pass was delivered to my apartment. No return address," he adds before either of us can ask.

"And that didn't seem suspicious?" I press.

"Demoiselle," he scoffs. "I am a paparazzo. I am not going to... How you Américans say? Count the teeth of a dog?"

"Look a gift horse in the mouth..." I correct dryly.

"Once on the estate, I took some pictures of the Jamboree — in the event, you know... nothing came of the tip — but then I received a message on my phone that the suitor in question was on her way back to her room with her paramour, andI should make myself ready."

"How did you know which room to go to?" I cut in.

"There was a blueprint of the manor included in the same envelope that provided me my security pass," Dion explains. "It was your room that was marked."

His words hit me like a kick to the guts.

It's been clear for a while that my run-in with Tariq has been anything but chance. But to learn the malicious extent of the planning that had gone into setting it up makes me want to actually puke.

Who was sick enough to even think up something so twisted?

"What then?" asks Olivia, diverting Dion's attention from my momentary muteness.

He shrugs. "I took the photos, and left."

"How?" I croak in disbelief. "How could you just stand there while—?"

"I am a journalist," he shrugs apathetically. "My business is to be impartial..."

"You watched me get assaulted," I hiss through trembling lips. "There is nothing impartial about that!"

He shrugs again. "Affairs are messy. Maybe you should choose your lovers more carefully."

I feel my fists clench at my sides as I take a step forward. "He is not—"

Olivia's hand pulls me back. "How did you deliver the photos?"

"There was no delivery," Dion counters with the same level of nonchalance that he's exhibited since he started talking. "I selected the best pictures and put them out to offer to the newspapers. The Sun offered the most for them, so I sold to them the exclusive rights to publish."

"That's it?" queries Olivia. "No one else was given copies?"

Dion scoffs. "Absolutement pas! Selling copies to anyone else would violate the license agreement with the most influential tabloid newspaper in the country! Why would I put myself out of business? I am not an idiot..."

"You didn't send any samples to the person who tipped you off?" I press, having finally managed to regain my composure somewhat.

"Non," he insists. "I said before — he was not a client. I have no obligation for him. And even if I did, I have no way to contact him because—"

"—the conversations were anonymous," I finish wearily.

Apart from lending credence to our suspicions that Godfrey may have had a hand in the set-up, this conversation has confirmed literally nothing.

The people involved in the plot have been too careful in covering up their tracks.

Which means that all our hopes now rest with Tariq... and Drake's ability to find him.

Dion nods. "C'est correct. And I told you everything you asked. We still have a deal, yes?"

"On the condition that you hand over all the remaining photographs — including any digital and backup copies — and disappear off to a godforsaken island somewhere," Olivia clarifies.

Dion nods eagerly. "Naturellement. I always desired early retirement."

"Good," she approves, cutting the bonds from his wrists with a cold smile. "Otherwise I will personally ensure that you don't live to spend a single Euro of your newly acquired millions."

The flash of the wicked-looking blade so close to his groin causes the photographer to blanch involuntarily. "Je le jure."

Olivia flashes him a cold smile. "We'll be in touch..."

"You're just letting him go?" I hiss into Olivia's ear as Dion pushes himself up.

"Unless you would prefer to dump him in the Tiber?"

I reel back. "What! No! I just—"

"Your instinct was right," she advises softly, as Dion gathers his bag and Allard escorts him back out. "He is an opportunistic shark. He just had to be made to believe that he was fleecing us."

My eyes widen. "So, you played bad cop deliberately."

"As you said, this is my area of expertise," she smirks. "And I knew you would not be able to keep your sentimentality at the door."

"Umm, thanks... I think..." I mutter. "But where are we supposed to get three million Euros from? We may both be aristos, but neither of us is Jeff Bezos..."

"The Palace has a designated slush fund set aside for these sorts of expenditures," Olivia assures me breezily, slotting her knife away. "Since you are now a member of the royal family, we'll just send the bill to Jonathan."

I slant her a wry look. "I'm pretty sure that's not what either he or Christian had in mind when they decided to clean up my image..."

"Oh, please!" she admonishes, stepping back out into the corridor as well. "As recently as last year, Constantine was authorising expenditures of five to ten million Euros to stop pictures of Leo shagging B-list actresses on top of various vehicles making it onto the front pages. Three million Euros is trump change for the Rys."

"If you say so," I concede, my mind still reeling from astronomical sums of money that had been so casually bandied about. "Let's just hope Dion doesn't screw us over..."

"He won't," she assures me. "Nobody is stupid enough to cross a Nevrakis."

"The people who blackmailed you did..." I remind her cautiously.

Olivia's mouth tightens as we reach the end of the corridor. "Which was their first mistake. And one that they will pay for dearly."

"You never actually told me what they threatened you with on the night of the Coronation Ball..."

Olivia glances at me sharply. "The less you know the better."

"But—"

"It is for your own protection," she insists. "You haven't played this game long enough to know how to handle something so... explosive."

My eyes widen. "What? More explosive than—?"

Olivia clamps her hand over my mouth. "What did I tell you on the plane?"

"Sorry..." I mumble through her fingers.

She withdraws her hand. "If — on the very slim chance — I require assistance, I'll ask for it. In the meantime, you should rejoin the bridal parade."

"Why? Where are you going?" I ask as Olivia moves towards the back loading doors.

"None of your business," she ripostes, disappearing outside.

"Bye to you, too..." I snip as the door slams closed in her wake.

Olivia may now be on my side, but she is still as caustic as ever.

Turning back towards the main part of the boutique. I barely make it four steps before Madeleine's shrieks of outrage — and the sound of breaking glass — echo down the hallway.

"How many times do I have to tell you, no thongs! They are ribald and tasteless!"

"Yeah, no..." I mutter under my breath as I promptly spin on my heel to head back towards the rear of the store.

I don't care what Kiara may have said earlier; I have no interest in spending the rest of the morning being trapped in a bridal boutique, being screamed at by Madeleine. I have much better things to do with my time... and sanity, especially given that I'm still trying to mentally and emotionally process what the photographer had said. And after everything else that's happened in the past twenty-four hours, a small break would definitely go a long way in diffusing my pent-up stress.

Admittedly, a part of me feels bad for leaving Hana behind to suffer the full brunt of Madeleine's tirade, but trying to pull her away as well would only jeopardise my chances of making a successful getaway. I'll just have to think of some other way to make it up to her.

Not wanting her to get into any unwarranted trouble on my account, I decide to pull out my phone to send her a quick text letting her know that I'm not feeling well, and that I'll hopefully see her at the opera in the evening.

Slotting my phone back into my clutch, I push the back doors of the boutique open with a decisive shove, and step out into the sunshine.

Letting my eyes adjust to the brightness outside, I find myself in a small courtyard. On a whim, I turn back towards my Guards.

"Which way to the Trevi Fountain?" I ask, pulling my sunglasses back down over my face.

Allard and Schweitzer trade glances, clearly uneasy with this request.

"Demoiselle, that is not a prudent—"

"—way to get lost in the crowd?" I counter. "I can't think of a better one. If I don't advertise myself, no one will know I'm even there. Especially while the paps are tied up on the other side of the building."

My Guards don't seem convinced. "Commandant Walker left specific instructions to—"

"I'm not planning on disappearing on you," I assure them. "I just want to make a quick detour to grab some pastries, and check out the fountain. So, which way is it?"

Perhaps seeing that I'm not going to be swayed by any cautionary counter-argument, Schweitzer gives Allard a one-shouldered shrug of acquiescence.

Allard pulls a face before finally resigning himself as well. "Par ici," he says, indicating the far side of the courtyard.

"Thanks," I chirp with a smile, setting out across the cobblestones...

...and promptly get the heel of my stiletto pumps stuck in a crack between the stones.

"Eugh," I grumble, as I manage to wrench myself free after a brief battle. "I really didn't think this through..."

"Would Demoiselle require a taxi?" asks Schweitzer as he helps steady me from behind.

"I was hoping to walk..." I admit sheepishly.

"Via Borgognona is nearby," Allard suggests. "It is a well-known shopping street, though quieter than the more famous Via Condotti. Demoiselle might find more... comfortable footwear there."

"Not to mention some more appropriate clothes in general," I gripe, already feeling the tight fabric of my pencil dress start to stick to me. "How far away is it?"

"Just around the corner."

I flash him a bright smile. "Perfect!"

With Allard leading the way, and Schweitzer holding my hand, we manage to cross the courtyard without further incident, and sneak past the paps still thronging the front of the bridal boutique without getting spotted.

Crossing the pedestrianised thoroughfare, my Guards usher me down a narrower street that is lined on either side by cream-coloured buildings casting some welcome shade in the midday heat.

We pass a smattering of tourists and locals, but luckily everyone seems to be too absorbed in their phones or personal conversations to pay any specific attention to me.

And — more importantly — as Allard promised, the street is composed entirely of fashionable-looking independent boutiques.

"Let's try this one," I suggest, indicating the arched entryway of a store with an Italian name that I do not recognise, but which nevertheless seems to have several options for sandals on offer. And — given the scalding nature of the weather — an open-toe option is definitely appealing right now!

Stepping into the air-conditioned entranceway, I am immediately greeted by an immaculately made up woman with a severe ponytail, who starts questioning me in rapid-fire Italian.

"Umm..."

Luckily, I am saved from the embarrassment of trying to cobble together some kind of inappropriate response with the very limited — and wholly unhelpful — Italian that Bertrand had managed to teach me on the plane by Allard, who steps deftly up to my side.

"Lei è alla ricerca di alcune nuove scarpe."

"Che tipo de scarpe?"

"Sandals," I say, having understood the gist of the question. "No heel."

"Prego," the assistant says, flicking her hand towards some minimalist shelving.

"Gracia," I acknowledge with a smile.

Moving over to the indicated section, I quickly assess the options...

...and nearly die when I lay eyes on the price tags.

"Almost a thousand Euros...?" I gripe under my breath "For a few scraps of leather...?"

But then my eyes land on a pair bejewelled, gladiator-style sandals.

Given my limited window of opportunity to sneak in some sight-seeing before people start to question my absence, I don't have the luxury of being able to hunt for a bargain. And if I'm going to end up forking out this much money on a pair of shoes, I'm at least going to spend it on something that I like the look of.

And these sandals definitely fit the bill.

Decision made, I pull out my phone to quickly find out how my normal US shoe size converts to the vastly different European sizing, and turn back to the patiently waiting assistant.

"Size 36, please."

With a nod, she disappears 'round the back.

While she's gone, I take the opportunity to look up the location of the little pastry shop that the President had mentioned.

Since I'm heading towards the Trevi Fountain anyway, and Madeleine had pulled us out of this morning's meeting before the refreshments could be served, I had been serious when I told my Guards of my intent to tackle two birds with one stone. Especially since it's nearly lunchtime, and chances are I won't otherwise see food until the opera this evening.

The assistant reappears with my selection, and after a quick try-on, I give her a nod to ring up the extortionate purchase, being excessively grateful that I still have cash left in my US account, given that I don't actually have access to my new Cordonian accounts yet.

Stepping back out onto the street, I change out my shoes, slotting my pumps away into the high-end bag that I've been given, and dumping the shoebox in a nearby trash can.

My toes flex gratefully in their newfound freedom as I cross the street to the clothing boutique, wondering how much a top and pair of jean shorts is going to set me back...

In the end, however, I am pleasantly surprised to emerge back onto the street in a simple, white wrap-dress, a straw Panama hat, and a matching straw bucket bag in which I've stowed my old dress and shoes, all for under two hundred Euros, which means I was able to make recourse to the money Drake had given me, and still have plenty of cash left over for other potential emergencies.

"Thanks for the suggestion," I tell Allard sincerely. "It has definitely saved me from melting into the pavement!"

"De rien, Demoiselle," he acknowledges with a smile. "Are you ready to continue?"

"Lead the way, Monsieur!" I tell him with a grin.

Taking up poll position with a scoff — with Schweitzer bringing up the rear — Allard takes us left at the next intersection to zig-zag us down various side streets, presumably in a bid to avoid both the ferocity of the midday sun, and the chances of me being recognised on the busier avenues.

But, the back route pays off, and within ten minutes, I find myself standing on the edge of the crowded plaza that serves as the gateway to the romantic monument.

"Wow..." I breathe, taking it all in. "It sure is busy!"

Allard and Schweitzer exchange a tense look, no doubt worried about the prospect of being able to keep tabs on me in the press.

"I'll be fine," I assure them. "Just a quick peek and then we can get moving."

Neither of them look convinced, but they don't try to dissuade me as I plunge into the crowd.

Skirting around wedding parties, tour groups, and other miscellaneous sightseers, I manage to work my way to the front of the throng, and my mouth parts with a gasp at the sight spread out before me.

The four-storey monument rises up from the base of the fountain, framing the dynamically positioned statues from under whose feet the water gushes into the aquamarine pool.

It's like a Renaissance painting brought to life.

But, while I'm glad to have made the trip out here to see it in person, I can't help but feel my chest tighten morosely as I gaze up at the beauty of the world-famous landmark.

I didn't necessarily realise it at the time, but part of the reason why I enjoyed my outing in the Cordonian capital so much was because I had Drake to share the adventure with. And it was the same in Avignon — his wry quips and local knowledge had definitely brought the whole experience to life, making me see the city through different eyes than I probably would have had I been by myself... like I am now.

Eugh... I miss him...

Reaching for the ties of my bag on impulse, I pull the fastenings apart just enough to plunge my hand inside. Finding my purse, I snap it open and extract a Euro from the coin pouch.

Squeezing my fingers 'round the warmth of the metal, I clench my eyes shut with a heartfelt wish as I turn back towards the fountain...

...before sending the coin flipping through the air to land in the water before me with a soft plop.

Blinking my eyes open, I am somewhat disappointed to find myself still standing solo by the railing, and Drake has not magically appeared before me like the hot Italian guy did in The Lizzy McGuire Movie.

"Worth a shot..." I console myself somewhat dejectedly as I reach back into my bag to extract my phone so I could snap a couple of pictures to send to my mom.

Mission accomplished, I turn away from the fountain to make my way back to the edge of the square, Allard and Schweitzer falling into step behind me as I scan the various store-fronts clustered around the fountain, searching for the bakery with the pistachio croissants.

My eyes suddenly land on something in one of the window displays...

...and without really thinking about it, I let my feet carry me inside.

The little brass bell above the door jingles as I step into the cramped confines of what appears to be a shop selling a motley collection of antiques and touristy knick-knacks. A wizened old man sporting glasses and a thick head of white hair looks up at the sound of my arrival.

"Buon pomeriggio, signorina," he greets. "Posso aiutarla a cercare?"

"Umm... sì," I say hesitantly. "Hai avo... in the window?" I point at the item that had caught my eye with an embarrassed flush.

The man's face cracks into a grin. "Ah, certamente!"

Stepping out from behind the counter, he ambles his way over to the window display, to pull back the protective glass. Reaching in, he lifts up the silver chain and holds it out to me.

I run the tip of my finger across the edge of the pendant with a smile. "It's perfect."

"For you?" he asks, lifting the chain up to my neck indicatively.

"No," I laugh. "It's a present... Por mi amore?"

His eyes light up. "Ah, bellissimo! Lo avvolgerò in su per voi!"

"Gracia," I say as he scuttles excitedly back behind the counter in search of a box.

Pulling one out with a conspiratorial flourish, he sets about packaging up the piece as if he were swaddling a precious child for a hazardous journey, even managing to dig out a slightly dusty ribbon to tie on top.

"Cento euro," he declares, presenting the completed ensemble to me.

Pulling my wallet out, I extract my card. "Visa?"

"Sì! Ovviamente!" he proclaims, slapping a brand new Square card machine onto the counter, that was starkly at odds with the otherwise Ollivander-esque décor of the place.

Slotting my card into the reader, I complete the purchase, and am just about to reach for the box to stow it away in my bag when I feel a sudden presence behind me.

"This is becoming a bad habit with you..."

I freeze at the sound of the familiar voice.

No way...

The story continues in Chapter 20 (Coming Soon!)

A/N: As per usual, translations below:

At the bridal boutique: Contessa! Contessa Maddalena! Quaggiù, per favore! - Countess! Countess! Over here, please!

Nous vous tienons, Demoiselle - We got you, m'lady

Certainement. Vous allez bien? - Certainly. Are you alright?

C'est le bordel! Qu'est-ce qu'elle croyait?" - What mess! What was she thinking?

Sa mère la pute de— - Your mother is a whore of a—

Nom de dieu - Oh, my God!

Tu es une salle grace - You're a real bitch

Absolutement pas! - Absolutely not!

Je le jure - I swear

Out and About Par ici - This way

Lei è alla ricerca di alcune nuove scarpe - She is looking for some new shoes.

Che tipo de scarpe? - What kind of shoes?

Prego - Please

Gracia - Thanks

De rien, Demoiselle - No problem, m'lady

Buon pomeriggio, signorina. Posso aiutarla a cercare? - Good afternoon, miss. Can I help you find anything?

Por mi amore?* - For my love? *This is a completely butchered attempt at Italian. The grammatically correct way to say it would be 'È per il mio amore'. However, Harper is improvising, so she's not going to get things completely correct 😇

Ah, bellissimo! Lo avvolgerò in su per voi! - Ah, lovely! I will wrap it up for you!

Cento euro - One hundred Euros

Sì! Ovviamente! - Yes! Of course!

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