#but there is only ONE young leggy brunette that he’s into

[louisisalarrie]

Twitter likes to use that photo of Louis sitting in the background with Krystle and Helen as proof of something because Krupa deleted it right away but you can see there is someone between Krystle and Louis. Helen is stading and Krystle looks like she is leaning he body away from area Louis is sitting while someone is giving Louis a joint or cig. Unless she is 6ft long then she shouldnt be seen on the other side of Helen while also having her hand near Louis with the cig. Louis is holding said person arm while they are passing it https://www.tumblr.com/dreamings-free/705279583177555968/lt-tour-backline-tech-mike-krupa-instagram?source=share

So why wouldn’t it make sense if Louis was dating Helene… right? I mean, they spend a lot of their time together, and she works for him, and they’re seen hanging out outside of work, which seems to be the only evidence that Louis is dating Krystle too.

[unhealthyfanobsession]

Do you think you’ll continue with the lawyer Nessian fic. It was so amazingly written I’d love to read more! I love all your writing anyways I’ll be happy with anything❤️

Ok not *technically* a Drabble request BUT I’m not ready to commit to a full lawyer AU that happens in order however I did just drum up a part 2 that we’ll say is several years before the previous lawyer AU. Nessian teasing in a bar and Rhys being a dumbass.

FYI the lawyer Drabble I’m talking about can be found HERE.

“I’m in love,” Rhys slurred. Cassian, a decent bit bigger than his brother and two drinks behind him, had a gentle buzz so he could only surmise that his brother was well passed sober.

“Congratulations,” Cassian grinned, clapping his hand on Rhys’ shoulder. “May I lay eyes upon the future Mrs. Dumbass.”

Rhys stared at him flatly. Blew a laugh out of his nose. “She’s not marrying you, brother.”

Cassian snorted, casting his eyes around the elegantly decorated little lounge they’d stepped into for the night. Lounge, not bar. Because they were mature adults now looking to take the edge off after a long day of work, not college students looking to get fucked up.

It was different.

It was different because the cocktails cost $20 and were served in actual stemware instead of red solo cups. They were evolving. Growing. Cassian was a lawyer now and Rhys was supposed to be doing actual work for his dad’s company so… no more dive bars.

Now they frequented little lounges where accountants and lawyers and bankers sat in tailored suits and discussed… adult things.

It was all very civilized.

And yet here was his brother. Every bit the horny college student they were trying not to be. Oh well, old dogs and all that.

“End of the bar.” Rhys jerked his head to the left and Cassian grinned.

“Might be a little old for you, champ.”

Rhys wrinkled his brow and turned to look at the grandmother doing a crossword puzzle on the far left side of the bar. A martini glass in front of her. Good for grandma.

“Other end of the bar!”

Cassian smirked. He didn’t need to turn his head, since he’s noticed her the second she walked in, but he still did. Just so he could look some more.

“Ah, you mean the deliciously dishevelled leggy brunette with her suit jacket on the chair beside her who just ripped the pins out of her hair like they personally offended her and then laid them in a neat little pile beside her Kobo?

“Mmm,” Rhys grinned, “I’d like her to rip those fingers through my hair.”

Cassian rolled his eyes. “Go for it, brother.”

Rhys grinned wider. “I think I will.” He straightened up, ran a hair through his artfully mussed hair, and pulled on the lapels of his Gucci suit jacket until they were even again.

Cassian snickered into his Old Fashioned. Rhys could straighten his jacket all he wanted. He could pretend he wasn’t drunk all he wanted. It wouldn’t matter one bit.

Not with Nesta Archeron.

Nesta Archeron who hated men that stunk of trust funds and privilege more than anything else in this world.

This would be fun to watch.

Watch her try to ignore him at first. Eyes glued to the page of her book, hand reaching up to wave through the air like Rhys was an annoying fly she could swat away.

Rhys, to his credit, was a clever little bastard. He asked the bartender for a refill of her drink and set it down in front of her then sat himself one stool down from her.

He didn’t move her jacket to sit next to her, which would have had her going feral. He just sat there, waiting.

After a few moments Nesta let out an exacerbated sigh that Cassian could hear from across the room. There was his girl.

Well, not his girl. Not even a little bit his girl, but… someday.

Cassian decided that he was going to Marry Nesta Archeron the first time she kicked his ass up and down a negotiation meeting. It was a couple years ago now. He’d been young and new at his firm. She was young and new too, but the words learning curve were not in Nesta’s vocabulary. Everything she did, she did with perfection.

Including getting rid of men she didn’t want hitting on her.

She said something to his brother that made Rhys’ half drunk, cocky, smile fall halfway down his face.

Cassian would’ve given his left eye to know what she said in that moment. She had a knack for jumping at the jugular and Rhys… oh Rhys. So obvious.

After a few moments and the continual fall of Rhys’ face, Cassian decided it was time to intervene. He knocked his drink back and straightened out his own suit jacket. Armani, still overpriced and designer but not so obvious or try hard as Mr. Up On The Trends with his Gucci. Nesta appreciated classics.

Simple. Clean lines, solid colours, classic. Which was why it was so fun just how attracted she was to his half wild self.

Unlike Rhys, Cassian plucked Nesta’s light grey suit jacket up off the stool beside her and reached over her head to hang it on a coat hook at the end of the bar. Settling himself into the chair beside her like it was exactly where he belonged. Which it was.

She turned around with an indignant shriek and a fire-breathing snarl that narrowed into just a hard glare when she realized it was him. Touching.

“This guy giving you trouble, Nes?”

Rhys choked on his whiskey and Cassian fought his hardest to keep a straight face.

“I so don’t need your saviour complex right now, Cassian.” Nesta scoffed.

“No,” Rhys rolled his eyes. “She was doing perfectly well scaring off everyone in a 10 mile radius all on her own.”

Nesta smiled sweetly, “I was just playing your game.”

Rhys sputtered again. Looked up at his brother. “This devil woman that you apparently already know,” he glared, “is all yours. I’m going home.”

“Be sure to drink plenty of water!” Nesta sing songed after him. Rhys flipped them both off on his way out.

“What’d you say to him?”

Nesta smiled. A pretty, feline little thing. “He said he wanted to chat. Suggested 20 question, which is the lamest, oldest, crustiest line in the book. So I went first. Asked just how small his dick was that he felt the need to overcompensate with the swagger and the gratuitous displays of wealth. He thought he was quite clever to use his question to ask if I wanted to check for myself how not small his dick was and then I asked if his daddy never loved him and that’s where all of that machismo masking painfully obvious and deep seeded feelings of inadequacy and insecurity came from. I was going to offer him my friend’s number before you showed up. She’s an excellent therapist.”

Cassian laughed. Hard. For a very long time. He loved Rhys, but sometimes the kid could use a nice set down. It was always sweeter when delivered by a beautiful woman. Not to mention, Cassian himself had gotten the same ice cold rejection the first time he met Nesta. When he asked if she wanted to get a coffee and she looked at him like something she’d scraped off the bottom of her shoe. That Rhys was chased off so easily just proved he couldn’t take the heat.

“You know the walking trust fund, I presume?” Nesta boredly sipped the drink Rhys had bought her. And even that was somehow amusing.

“Only for the last couple decades or so,” Cassian grinned. “He’s like a brother to me.”

“Explains a lot.”

“Your insults are more impactful when you clarify which person is being insulted.”

“I was going for the two birds one stone method.”

“In that case, consider me wounded, sweetheart.”

Nesta scoffed, “Unfortunately not mortally.”

“Oh Nesta, if I weren’t here you’d die of boredom and you know it. No one else can run you up and down the courtroom like I can.” Now. Cassian grinned as he watched the word flash across her eyes. He’d never live that first blunder down.

Nesta rose an eyebrow. “Bold of you to assume you present any challenge whatsoever.”

Cassian signalled for another drink and leaned forward. “Alright, I’ll bite. Who in this entire city can give you more of a run for your money?”

“Vanserra.” Nesta looked him dead in the eye. And managed to keep a straight face. As if that wasn’t the funniest fucking thing he’d heard all day.

“Oh yes, Nepotism and Nepotism LLP certainly has us all shaking in our boots,” Cassian blew out a breath. “What are you working on now?”

“I’m working on upholding attorney-client privilege.”

“So, the Suncurser merger.”

Nesta looked up. “How did you-”

“Helion and I are old friends. I checked the zoning on the lots he was buying before the merger went ahead to make sure the expansion was even feasible. But, as you know, M&A isn’t my thing. So I may have… given him a referral.”

“Are there any rich playboys in this city that you aren’t friends with?” Nesta finished off her drink and pointedly didn’t signal for another. “And if you think I’m going to be grateful to you for sending this my way you’ve got another thing-“

“Helion is my friend.” Cassian repeated, cutting her off. “He believes in this merger and he wants it done right. You’re the best, Nesta. Why wouldn’t I send him to you?”

“It’s not just to get in my pants?” She narrowed her eyes.

Cassian laughed again. “Oh no, sweetheart. When you invite me into your bed it will have nothing to do with work. It’ll be because you’re tired of denying how much you want me.” Cassian leaned in closer, one hand resting on the back of her chair. “Tired of denying the thrill that shoots through your whole body when we lay into each other. In the court room or out.” His nose brushed against hers, just a little, and Cassian felt Nesta tense up. He smirked, mouth just inches away from hers. “Tired of denying how right this is.”

Nesta’s voice was rough, husky. “So your plan is to wear me down?”

Cassian smirked. “My plan,” his hand came up to stroke the silk covered expanse of her upper arm, “is to marry you, Nesta Archeron. But sure, we can start with wearing you down.”

***Feyre and Nesta look physically similar so you can’t tell me drunk Rhys wouldn’t hit on Nesta in a bar before realizing he’d made a terrible mistake and running away thank you***

Also tags yourself, I’m the grandma doing the crossword puzzle with a martini. She’s an icon and she is the moment.

[kmomof4]

CS AU- Coming to Storybrooke (1/5)

It’s FINALLY here!!!!!! I’ve only been talking about this fic for over a YEAR!!! I’m so excited to finally share it with all of you!!!

I have to acknowledge and send all the love and internet hugs to all those who helped me with this fic. I can truly say that I would have given up on it LONG AGO without them.

First to @hollyethecurious​. She was my brainstorming partner and never-ending fount of encouragement. She pulled me back from the brink of deleting this fic entirely so many times. So when I say that this fic wouldn’t be here without her, I’m not exaggerating. 

Second to @profdanglaisstuff​. The best beta in the world!!!! Her suggestions and insights make this writing business so much better! Thank you, babe!

And finally to all the ladies on the @captainswanmoviemarathon​ discord. Y’all’s encouragement and sprinting dates helped keep me motivated and got me over the finish line. 

This fic is a S1 Canon Divergence, sort of, inspired by the 1988 Eddie Murphy movie Coming to America. It is complete with five chapters and I’ll be updating every Saturday.

Fic Summary: Prince Killian of the Enchanted Forest refuses to marry the woman that his brother has chosen for him, so he travels to Storybrooke in the Land Without Magic to find his own bride.

Rating: T for some strong language

Words: Ch1 2224 of 18K Total

Tags: S1 Canon Divergence, Inspired by Coming to America, Neal is an idiot, romantic fluff

AO3 Link

Tag LIst: @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @snowbellewells @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @jennjenn615 @kingofmyheart14 @profdanglaisstuff @branlovestowrite @thisonesatellite @ultraluckycatnd @flslp87 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @let-it-raines @shireness-says @kymbersmith-90 @darkcolinodonorgasm @bethacaciakay @searchingwardrobes @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @aprilqueen84 @qualitycoffeethings @superchocovian @artistic-writer @donteattheappleshook @doodlelolly0910 @seriouslyhooked @tiganasummertree @lfh1226-linda @nikkiemms @xsajx @klynn-stormz @jrob64 @wefoundloveunderthelight @zaharadessert @elizabeethan @xhookswenchx @gingerpolyglot @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 @sailtoafarawayland @justanother-unluckysoul @veryverynotgoodwrites @jonesfandomfanatic @deckerstarblanche

Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.

Under the cut unless Tumblr ate it

Ch1

“Oh, she’s beautiful,” David whispered, awestruck.

Tears filled his eyes as he looked through the door at his other True Love. The little girl sat cross legged on the bed and slowly turned a page of the book in front of her.

David stared, dumbfounded, as a firm resolve filled him.

“We can’t waste another second,” he stated, vehemently. “We can’t wait another second.” He took a step toward the door when Snow’s softly spoken wait stopped him. “What? What’s wrong?” he asked, looking at his wife.

Her eyes were glued to their daughter until they skittered away to their surroundings and the door in front of them. Anywhere but at him.

“We can’t go through there.”

David was stunned, incredulity coloring his features. “Snow, we have to.”

She continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “If we go through that door, Emma will never become the savior.”

He turned back to the open door. To his daughter. He was heartbroken. He knew exactly what Snow was thinking. If they went through that door, they condemned their subjects, their friends, their family, to live under Regina’s curse, separated from their own loved ones, forever. But that couldn’t be true. Rumplestiltskin said to keep the child safe and she would return on her 28th birthday. No mention was made about the circumstances of her return, only that she would.

“She’ll have a new destiny.” He looked at Snow again. “With us. We will teach her. We will tell her everything. And when her 28th birthday arrives, we’ll all come back and she will break the curse.”

Snow’s tear filled eyes finally turned to him. “How do you know?”

“This family finds each other. We’ve found each other,” he said, taking her hands. He tilted his head slightly toward the open door, “We’ve found Emma. We will find the rest of our family when it’s time for her to break the curse.”

He saw the moment doubt was swallowed up by hope in her eyes. With a small nod and a smile, they turned and walked through the door.

Together.

~*~*~*~

18 years later

Emma Swan sat in the back seat of the family SUV with her brother Leo as they sped through the backwoods of rural Maine toward an uncertain and possibly perilous future. It was her 28th birthday and it was the day that her parents had been preparing her for ever since they came through the closet door to claim her so long ago.

The scenery outside her window went hazy around the edges as she got lost in the memory of the first time she met her parents. She hadn’t been frightened when these two strangers entered her bedroom through her closet door. Something about them seemed familiar. She knew in her marrow that she could trust them and when the woman fell to her knees with tears in her eyes, her arms open wide, and calling her name, Emma hadn’t hesitated to run into them. She rose to her feet with Emma held tightly in her arms, sobbing into her hair and placing kisses all over her face. Emma only caught snippets of what the woman was saying, but the words I’m your mom, I love you, we’ll never leave you, we’ll always be together sent Emma’s heart soaring. It was exactly what this little lost girl had always longed to hear. The man wrapped one arm around them both and cupped the back of her head with the other. She had never felt so safe and loved in all her life.

Now all these years later, it was time to fulfill her destiny. It wasn’t long after their reunion that they settled in Portland, Maine and her parents told her a story. A story through the pages of the book that her mother had brought through the door with her. A story that was more than just a fantasy. It was true. All of it. It was their story. It was her story. The story of where she came from… and what she was meant to do. Beginning with the day she was born, her parents told her why they had to get her to safety. How Doc of the Seven Dwarves delivered her only minutes before her father placed her in the magical wardrobe and the queen’s curse swept over the land. From there, they told her the true story of how Snow White and Prince Charming met and fell in love - very different from the Disney version - her mother’s history with the Evil Queen and how her father came to be in the position to even meet his True Love. She’d become intimately familiar with all the true stories in the book as she grew up, first her, then her brother Leo, and now it was time for her to save them all. She had to admit to being rather nervous about it. It was one thing to hear the story from her parents and believe it because of how young she was and because she trusted them. But it was entirely different to be a grown woman and solely responsible for bringing back all the happy endings for real people that her parents knew and loved. She was about to see everything from the storybook come to life.

Suddenly, her mother’s excited voice from the front seat roused her from her musings.

“There it is, David!” she exclaimed. “The town line!”

“I see it, I see it,” he replied.

Moments later, they crossed the town line and a chill passed over Emma’s entire body before something exploded out of her that nearly made her dad lose control of the car.

“What the hell was that?” Emma cried as her mom and brother shouted in alarm. She reached toward Leo’s shoulder while her other hand tried to find purchase on the door handle as her dad brought the car back under control. She looked out the window and saw a white shimmering something traveling across the sky toward the town. She saw her mom, dad, and brother craning their necks to see it too.

“I think…” her mom began, “that you just broke the curse, honey.”

“That’s it?” she asked, incredulous. “Just crossing the town line? That was all it took?”

“Apparently so,” her dad answered. “But that doesn’t mean we don’t still have to be on our guard.” His grip on the steering wheel tightened and his brow furrowed. “We don’t know what we’re going to find when we get to town. Regina and the Dark One are presumably still here somewhere.”

Silence reigned as they continued to drive toward the center of town in the direction of the white blast. A few minutes later, they turned onto the main street of the small town. Filling the street in front of them, people were laughing and hugging each other in reunions that were 28 years overdue. Her dad slammed on the brakes as her mom cried out, her hands flying to her mouth.

“Ruby! Granny!” She bolted from the car and ran toward a leggy brunette and older matronly woman. Emma could see the surprised joy on their faces as they turned and ran toward her mother. Emma and Leo got out slowly as their dad ran toward his wife as she embraced the two women. They approached the reunited and happy foursome just as seven men got their mom’s attention. Wide grins broke out on Emma and Leo’s faces as realization came over them. Snow White and the Seven Dwarves. Emma could hear her mom’s sobs as she tried to embrace them all at once. Once she’d finished greeting her dearest and oldest friends, her mom turned toward them.

“Everyone,” she began, “these are our children.” Her mom motioned them closer. “Emma and Leo.” Her brother suddenly looked quite different from the brash and bold teenager she knew. He looked equal parts dumbfounded and like he’d like to melt into the ground. Her father didn’t miss a beat. He grabbed his son’s shoulder and started introducing him individually to the dwarves, placing his arm around him.

“Emma?” asked Granny, drawing her attention again. “The Savior?” The old woman took steps toward Emma and tenderly cupped her face with her hands before kissing her on the cheek and drawing her into a hug. Emma knew the elderly woman from the storybook, but to be held in her arms in love and acceptance was nearly as good as the hug she received from her parents when they came for her.

“Papa,” another man further up the street shouted. He ran toward an older man that was walking toward the group with the aid of a cane.

The man turned, his face infused with disbelieving joy as the cane dropped and he took a hesitant step toward the other man. “Bae?”

Emma could feel the tears forming in her eyes as the men embraced each other. She had done this. She was the savior and she had given all these people the happy endings that the Evil Queen had taken away all because she refused to place the blame for the death of her love where it truly belonged. She turned back toward the crowd again as more reunions were taking place. She saw her parents embracing a red haired man with a dalmatian. Jiminy Cricket, she remembered.

Just at that moment, a joyous cry reached their ears and they all turned toward the sound. A young woman with wild brown hair and wearing nothing more than a dirty white shift ran toward the still embracing men as she launched herself into the older man’s arms and kissed him. A rainbow blast burst from them startling everyone gathered. They separated as the blast flew through the air and yet also concentrated around the man. The young woman’s eyes grew wide as the rainbow light grew brighter and brighter around him before finally fading away to nothing. The man had tears running down his cheeks as he reached for the young woman again. Emma watched her melt into his arms and could just hear him murmur, “Belle. It’s gone. You saved me.” The kiss they shared made Emma’s cheeks flame as she turned toward her dad.

“Huh,” he said. “Rumplestiltskin has a True Love. Who would have thought that?”

The couple separated again and the man she now knew was Rumplestiltskin, the practitioner of the darkest magic in the realm, the man that she had always thought of as the puppet master, since he seemed to have a part in every single story in the book, gathered both the young woman and the younger man to him as the three made their way toward their own group.

“Dark One,” her dad greeted the man with a curt nod.

“No more,” he answered, raising his chin just a bit. “Belle’s True Love’s Kiss just destroyed the Darkness. With my son here, I was ready to let go of the Darkness and find my happiness with my family beside me.”

Then a stately woman in a nun’s habit approached them.

“Your highnesses,” she began with a bow, “the curse is indeed broken. As is the Darkness that made the Dark One.”

Her dad reached out and placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Blue,” he said. “Thank you.” He turned back toward the crowd and raised his voice in an exuberant shout. “The curse is broken and the Darkness is no more!” The gathered crowd cheered along with him. Emma wiped away her tears and met the eyes of the man that had embraced the former Dark One. His eyes twinkled as he grinned broadly at her. She felt her heart rate increase and cheeks flush again as she turned her eyes back toward her parents.

It was moments later when she felt a presence at her back. She turned around and found herself captured by a pair of laughing brown eyes.

“Neal,” he said, holding his hand out for her to shake. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head as if a sudden headache had come over him. “Baelfire. Neal Cassidy was my cursed name. But you can call me whatever you want.” He smiled again.

She took his hand and smiled back. “Emma,” she replied. “It’s nice to meet you, Neal.”

She could see her mom and brother over Neal’s shoulder exchange a stern and sheepish look. She knew that Leo, at 17, would love nothing more than to tease her about the man in front of her, but thankfully, their mother caught his eye before he could. She rolled her eyes at them before directing her attention back to him.

“Uh, thanks,” he said, “for uh, breaking the curse.” She couldn’t help but smile wider at his clumsy attempts to make small talk.

“You’re welcome?” she answered, with a shrug. “I mean, I didn’t really do anything, just crossed the town line…” she trailed away.

“But, I m-mean,” he stammered, “it was more than that. You…” he shrugged helplessly, apparently at a loss for what to say next. “Listen,” he said, brightening, “Could I show you around town? Maybe buy you a cup of coffee?”

Emma grinned widely. “I’d like that.” She looped her arm through his and he led her away from the rest of the crowd.

[burgers-and-french-fries]

Taking Chances: Chapter Twenty.

Note: This is on the shorter side because this is leading up to some drama but before that said drama, I wanted just add a filler in. I really hope that you like this.

Enjoy!

===

Over the course of the next few weeks, Nicola concentrated on moving to the new house. Tina and Guy had been more than helpful by looking after Jasmine while she ran around town doing errands and trying to get the house organized so that the transition for Jasmine would be a lot easier. Eventually the time came for Nicola and Jasmine to move in and thankfully Jasmine transitioned really well. Tina being the sweetest human known to man, picked Jasmine up from school on Friday afternoon and took her home as well as groceries she had bought for Nicola and freshly made freezer meals for them for a couple weeks. 

"Thank you so much for everything Tina. You have no idea how easy you've made this move for me." Nicola said as she and the older woman stood in the kitchen putting things away.

"No need to thank me, we are happy to help and Jasmine is such a good kid." Tina replied, waving her hand. Nicola smiled and felt the happiest she had in a few weeks.

You see, things between Nicola and Taron were pretty much over. He had been trying to get her to talk to him but after he sent her a text telling her that her reaction was a stupid one, she decided that she had had enough. In her eyes, he was calling her stupid and that was the last thing she needed right now.

"No Mikey, not there." Jasmine said. She and Mikey were decorating for the new playroom that Nicola said she could have.

"Why?" Mikey asked as his slightly chubby hands came up beside his face in a shrug.

"That's where the baby goes." Jasmine answered a matter-of-factly. Mikey decided that he wasn't happy with the answer, thus ensued a little argument. Tina and Nicola rolled their eyes and walked over to where the little monkeys were.

"What's with the fighting?" Nicola asked, leaning on the door frame.

"I want the baby here like yours." Jasmine said, making Nicola's breath hitch in her throat. She could only hope that Tina hadn't heard Jasmine's answer.

"I don't." Mikey added, trying to snatch the calendar away from the little girl.

"No!" Jasmine screeched. 

"Everybody stop right now." Tina said. Even Nicola stopped and looked at her.

"Michael, you have to remember that you are the guest here. Jasmine, why do you want the sad face there?" Tina asked. Mikey crossed his arms and frowned at Tina in a typical toddler tantrum.

"Nacause Lina let me put one on hers." Jasmine answered. 

"That seems fair." Tina replied. Mikey grunted in response.

"That's enough out of you young man. Let Jasmine put the sad face there if she wants." Tina warned the little boy.

"But she said that we have to have a baby then." Mikey grumbled, taking Tina back.

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"Lina told me that the baby goes there nacause she is late." Jasmine explained. Nicola mentally facepalmed herself.

“I see. Well, why don’t you two come into the kitchen for a snack and once you have calmed down, you can go back to playing.” Tina suggested. Mikey and Jasmine jumped up and ran to the kitchen, racing each other and giggling as they went.

Tina and Nicola got them set up with crackers and hummus. Mikey and Jasmine quickly got over their little tiff and came up with another idea for the calendar but that didn’t stop Tina from wanting to talk to Nicola about Jasmine’s answers earlier.

“All done!” Both kids cheered when their plates were cleared. Nicola took the dishes to the sink while Tina wiped their hands. Once deemed ok, the little ones ran back to where they were previously playing in.

“So, do you have anything you want to tell me?” Tina asked, stepping into the kitchen. Nicola shrugged.

“Not that I can think of.” Nicola answered. 

“You know you can tell me anything right?” Tina told her gently. Nicola smiled and nodded. She wanted to tell her but she was so scared of what Tina would think of her and then there was the fact that Nicola still didn’t know what to do about the baby. She was still toying with the idea of getting rid of the baby.

“I won’t force you to tell me anything but please keep in mind that I am here for you whenever you want to talk.” Tina said as she pulled Nicola into a hug. Nicola returned the hug and tried not to cry. This is all she ever wanted and it’s something that she was so scared of losing.

=

A few days later while she was out doing food shopping, Nicola ran into the woman from Halloween.

“Well, well, well.” She snarked. Nicola simply gave her a small smile, already feeling nauseous. The woman scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“I can see why Taron likes you. You’re just like him.” She continued. At this, Nicola stopped in her tracks and looked at the woman.

“I’m nothing like him.” Nicola replied coldly. The woman's face dropped when she recognized the hidden pain in Nicola’s eyes. It was the same hurt that she once knew. A pain that only Taron could cause.

“He did it to you too.” The woman said somewhat nicer.

“What are you talking about?” Nicola asked.

“Didn’t tell you he was leaving until the last minute.” The woman said. Nicola tried not to look shocked.

“Brenna.” The woman introduced, holding out her hand for Nicola to shake.

“Nicola.” Nicola said, accepting the handshake.

“You up the duff too?” Brenna asked. The lack of Nicola’s reaction gave her away.

“I was when he did the same thing to me. I ended up losing mine and then he met and married Kate.” Brenna explained, unknowingly shattering Nicola’s heart and making her stomach churn even more.

“If you ever need someone to talk to, I promise I’m not always a bitch.” Brenna said, handing Nicola a business card. Nicola took it and before she looked up again, Brenna was gone.

“Prick.” Nicola muttered to herself as she thought of the man that had hurt her so deeply.

Nicola finished her shopping promptly and went straight home to unpack everything before she had to collect Jasmine from nursery.

=

For the rest of the day, Nicola thought about everything Brenna had said to her and she was beginning to wonder if Taron would truly do something that horrible to a person. When she first met Taron, she would have definitely believed it but now that she had gotten to know him, she wasn’t sure if she really wanted to believe it. However, just after tucking her sister in for the night, Nicola’s phone buzzed with a notification from twitter. She ignored at first but then when the device kept buzzing, she had no choice but to look and what she saw absolutely shattered her beyond repair. Pictures of Taron with a leggy brunette on his arm, both of them clearly drunk and clearly lusting after each other were everywhere. At that moment, Nicola wanted to hear everything that Brenna had to say.

“I take it that you saw the pictures.” Brenna said after listening to Nicola’s tangent on what she really thought of Taron.

“Who the fuck does he think he is, the queen of Sheba?” Nicola seethed, trying to calm herself down but the more she thought about him fucking another woman, the more angry she got.

“It’s just who he is. If you want to know more, why don’t you join me for lunch tomorrow.” Brenna said. Nicola nodded.

“Brilliant.” Nicola answered simply, really wanting stories of who this man really was and what he’d done in the past. She wanted the full truth and something told her that Brenna was just the person to befriend.

Both Nicola and Brenna hung up and Nicola went to bed that night feeling as though a huge weight had been lifted from her. Everything that had happened between her and Taron only solidified the fact that he was truly a piece of shit.

===

Tag List: @sarahegerton96 @dangerouslcve @dogmom2014 @fuseburner @dragonstarre @jobanan23 @jolovesfandoms @lovefortaron89 @aberystwythboy @stronglyobsessed @hauntedflamingo @superthiccthighssavelives @cilldaracailin @hitmeonmytspot @rocknrollmadden

[youarejesting]

BTS365 Prompts.Week 33

Please tag me in your work if you use my prompts. I want to see your work. Ever your Jester. Tell me your birthday and I will tag you on your special day!

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    July 13th - August 19th

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Kim Seokjin - Booklovers

You were locked in the university library overnight, while studying. “Hello?” You called hoping there would be some sort of security. 

“It’s no use?” A voice said and you jumped shocked. 

“Who are you?” You said backing away. 

“I am Seokjin, we have met before, remember you were in your senior year I believe,” he smiled. 

“Hey Seokjin, don’t scare her,” a voice said and a bright ball of energy bounding towards you, his hair bouncing around his face.  

“My name is Hoseok, you know me right? we learnt magic together.”

“Oh, do you remember me? We traveled through the kingdoms trying to find the sacred sword." 

“Wait a second, you are all book characters that I had read when I was young!”

“Yes and if I remember correctly you declared we would get married.” Seokjin laughed watching your cheeks inflame. 

Min Yoongi - Lazy

Yoongi laid down in the hotel room after the concert and you laughed taking the make up wipes from the table and gently removed everything from his face using light cleansers and a damp cloth. Once he was clean you moisturized his face and took off his shoes, you helped him change taking the wipes and tried to clean off any leftover sweat from his chest, back, and arms. 

You wiped his feet and legs, tucking him in and watching the lazy boy curl up, before collapsing beside him. 

Jung Hoseok - Son and Daughter

Hoseok was on his hands and knees while his children sat on his back and demanded Hobi horse rides. Hoseok looked exhausted but he still kept going and you saw the way his biceps and triceps had become swollen with exercise. 

“Daddy loves you both to the moon and back, he also loves mummy so maybe he could go give mummy a kiss since he is tired and doesn’t want to play horsey all day.”

Kim Namjoon - Middle 

You were staring at your phone, trying to come up with a plausible situation where you both could be together. Namjoon, lived in a totally different country and he hardly had time for you and all you wanted was to be with him. You asked him to visit being the one who could easily afford it but he was busy with his career and you couldn’t keep asking that of him.

You also couldn’t just leave everything, you didn’t have anyone or anything in Korea. But that's what you did a huge gamble but what could you do, if you stayed any longer you would go crazy without him. “Please don’t regret this,” you breathed stepping off the plane, ready to go find him.

Park Jimin - Left Hand 

Jimin had a tendency to be on your left, whether it was while you were at the movies, when you walked through the streets. You didn’t understand why, it wasn’t an accident because he would purposefully have you switch your things to your right hand. Or, he would take the items from your left and hold them while standing on your left. One day you started walking and he was on your right, it felt odd and he laughed switching sides and grinned at you taking your hand.

Stopping on the sidewalk you looked up at him. “Why do you always walk on my left?”

“Because this way I am closer to your heart,” he blushed, rubbing the back of his neck and turning to face you walking backwards leading you down the street. “I am protecting your heart from anyone who would want to steal it.”

“What if you are the one who steals it?” You said thoughtfully and he grinned bashfully

“Don’t let me, if I get your heart, baby, I won’t give it back.”

Kim Taehyung - Relax 

His duality was insane, he acted like an angel to everyone but those who knew him well enough knew he was playing for what he could get. If he needed something he would swindle everything he could get in his huge grasp. But when you were in need he would look down at you with the devilish look in his eyes and a smirk atop his lips.

You had recently helped him and considered him a friend, enough so that you tapped his shoulder in class. “Taehyung, could I maybe borrow your homework, I forgot to do question four and I just wanted to-” 

His demeanor had changed and you knew that look, “Listen Y/n I would love to help but, you see I am really busy and I don’t like cheaters,” he grinned at the way your mouth fell open in response to his words, he even reached over and pushed your mouth shut.

“You asshole!” You shouted slamming your foot into the back of his chair and everyone turned and you received multiple glares from the girls in the class.

“I am sorry, you can have my homework,” Taehyung whimpered pretending to look scared and hurt, “please don’t kick me again?”

Your mouth fell open and he threw you a wink. You wanted to kill him because now you had to deal with all the girls in the school turning on you.

You left class quickly for lunch, trying to escape and heading up to the roof. You sat there and when you headed back to class you were greeted by your desk covered in unspeakable things. You turned and headed to the infirmary without a word. Like two tiny faucets you felt tears drip down your cheeks and onto the bed in the nurse's office.

The door slid open and you tensed sitting up wiping your eyes and turning to see him. “Relax, it is just me.”

Jeon Jungkook - Tell 

It was no question that you were a loser, hell you spent your days eating lunch on your own. All those stupid teen movies where the sporty and rude athlete somehow false in love with the nerd were a load of BS. 

But when you saw him, you couldn’t help but dream that something could tangle you together with some convenient and outrageous plot. “Miss Y/n would you mind being Mister Jeon’s  partner today, he had to shuffle his timetable and he needs a little help with chemistry?”

“Okay” you breathed and he sat down flashing you a brilliant smile that made him even more charming. 

“Thanks I really need this grade to graduate.” You nodded in understanding, taking him through everything and the formulas and he started flirting with a girl across the room. With a roll of your eyes, you focused on your work and ignored him. 

“Okay time to get to work.” The teacher said and he turned to you confused with a soft smile.

“What are we doing?” He asked and you slipped on your glasses and began measuring the acid into the beaker. “Hey let me help, I really want to. I am sorry.”

You gave him the beaker and sighed, “pour it into the flask,”

Holding the flask steady in your left hand he poured the acid getting distracted and turning back to the leggy brunette. He missed and poured acid onto your hand and you swore loudly he stopped panicking as you ran your hand under cold water practically screaming into your other arms sleeve.

“I am so sorry” He pleaded and you kicked him hard between the legs causing a strained wheeze as he fell “Oh fuck”

“You ruined my hand and you think sorry is going to cut it, maybe if you kept your eyes on your work instead of flirting.” You yelled inconsolable from the pain it wouldn’t stop burning and your tears kept flowing “Why don’t you just drink acid you idiot. You may be handsome but you won’t graduate with the rest of us.”

He was on the floor as the ambulance came to take you away, they brought him with you to get his groin checked out and you were reprimanded for injuring another student. You sat on either side of the ward across from each other, you were given medication but it didn’t fully numb the pain and couldn’t stop your crying and the doctor came in.

“Miss Y/n, we found only minor damage to the nerves in your left hand, in the thumb and forefinger, it shouldn’t affect your life to extremely,” he smiled, “you will have a severe reaction to the chemical and I am sorry but the pain will not go away until the burn has developed and healed appropriately.”

“Please, isn’t there anything you can do, I am going insane,” you sobbed, “that asshole ruined my life.”

“I am sorry,” he whimpered.

“Well, the only way to stop you feeling the pain is putting you into a medically induced coma?”

“So I am stuck in pain for how long?” You gritted your teeth to keep from screaming.

“At least six weeks maybe eight,” the doctor said, “It will heal but the skin will be a fresh pink colour where the burn was and will be sensitive to certain products”

“Mister Jeon, You were lucky everything is fine, she didn’t seem to kick you hard enough to damage anything.” The doctor sighed, “you will be able to leave when your parents get here?”

“I hope you got her number, just letting you know, she has three sugar daddies and switches her boyfriend legitimately every few months. So I guess she will be perfect for you,” you sneered, “use a condom, not only do I not won’t your stupid to pass on, I don’t want you to hurt a child with negligence.”

“It was a mistake, okay? I am sorry.”

“I can’t believe I thought you were nice, I can’t believe I thought because you smiled at me you would be a decent person. Boy was I wrong,” you sighed. 

He left that evening and you thought that would be the last you would see him, but he made it a point to come to your ward and hand you the work and notes and your friends texted him working hard. You laughed, his formulas were wrong the next time he visited. You took it upon himself to explain the problem and he listened intently.

[mangled-dreams]

Making Memories: 10

Making Memories 10: Heart to Heart

Chapter 10

Hiding underneath your blankets in your bedroom of your parent’s house, you dread getting out of bed. It’s been three days since Dark pinned you down and somehow convinced you to entertain the idea of an open relationship with him and Anti, and now you’re scared to see either demons.

When Anti had come back home later that evening you’d become a complete and utter mess. Dark had explained the whole thing and Anti seemed to accept once it was clear you hadn’t immediately vetoed the idea, but it did nothing to ease your heart.

You ran into Anti’s arms and refused to leave them until you’d passed out and he put you to bed.

Sighing, a timid knock at your door brings you out of your comforter cocoon. “Yes?”

“Emily, I’ve made breakfast; are you hungry?” Your mother calls.

“Coming.” You respond. You hear her retreat to the stairs, and slowly emerge from your bedding. Changing into a pair of jogging sweats and fleece lined hoodie, you head down stairs to meet your mother.

The moment your mother lays eyes on you, her face brightens. You love your mother and she loves you dearly. Smiling back, you take a seat at the table and load up your plate with scrambled eggs with a light sprinkling of pepper, waffle squares, hash browns, and three slices of bacon.

“My, are you hungry this morning?” Your mother coos happily.

Smiling sheepishly in response, you shovel eggs into you mouth followed by some bacon.

“Emi, I wanted to talk to you about something…”

Pausing, you stare at your mother in question. It’s never been good when she starts a conversation like this. Last time it was to tell you about your grandmother’s hospitalization. She waits for you to set down your utensils.

“Emi, I… I know it’s not my place to question your relationships; but I’ve been wondering if you are,” Her voice drops as if someone could come into the kitchen any moment. “Are you cheating on your punk rock boyfriend?”

Laughter bubbles in your chest at her question. “Jack?” You ask softly. “No, no mom. I am not cheating on him. He goes by Anti.”

“Anti, that’s right! You kids go by such odd names these days.” SHe mutters.

“No, you’re seeing one of his friends. He’s kind of punkish too. He goes by Dark.” You tell her, partially lying. Dropping your gaze to the plate before you, you debate talking to your mother…

“You look troubled. Did this boy do anything to you?” Your mother asks in a serious tone.

Shaking your head, you tell her, “No. No, nothing like that. I just… What do you think about open relationships?”

“Open? What does that mean?”

Biting your lower lip for a second you tell her, “In a context you can grasp; I’m dating Anti, but I also want to date Dark. Instead of cheating or sneaking around, Anti and I have a deal that we can date one, or more people and be truthful about it.”

Your mother gasps at the explanation. “There are people that do that?” She asks, her age showing clearly.

Her expression makes it hard to keep from giggling softly.

“Does Anti want another girlfriend?” Your mother asks angrily.

Quickly you shake your head. “No, it wasn't Anti. I promise.” You assure her. “I just… I think I might be developing feelings for Dark, and I don’t know what to do.”

Your mother coos at your obvious discomfort. “Has this Dark, has he indicated he’d be okay with you cheating on Anti with him?”

“Yes… No… I can’t tell. I’ve only ever been interested in Anti. It’s hard to read other people, especially when it comes to romantic notions.” You explain as best as you can.

Your mother hums to herself, mulling over your words. “How do you feel about it? Even if Anti and Dark are okay with this kind of relationship; would you be happy? When it comes down to it, Emily, you have to be comfortable with the state of your relationship.Some times being in love with two people means you have to make a hard choice and hope it’s the right now.”

Nodding, you slowly pick at your food, eating bits and pieces here and there as your mother moves about the kitchen. When you finally finished breakfast, you thank your mother, wash your dishes, then take your car into town. You need to do some retail therapy to mull something more productive over in your head.

“Can I help you find anything?” A tall, leggy brunette asks walking up to you.

Shaking your head you respond, “No, I’m doing alright.” She nods.

“If you need anything, my name is Tiffany.” she adds before walking away with a painted smile.

Watching the woman move on to another person, you continue your browsing through summer clearance before deciding to move on to fall fashion.

“Did you see that hot guy out front? He looked like he was searching for someone.” A young woman, probaby twenty two squeals happily.

“You should totally go talk to him. I mean, he probably has a girlfriend, but you’re so much hotter.” Her equally aged friend responds.

Rolling your eyes, you try to ignore their squealing, but a part of you has an urge to see who’s standing outside the store. You wonder if it’s a poor soul shopping with his wife or girlfriend and she moved on without telling him.

“Look at him. Go talk to him; go.” The friend urges again.

Unable to hold back, you walk to the windows and peek outside beyond the mannequins. Jaw dropping you realize the two girls are talking about Anti. His head turns, finding you, smiles and heads into the store. The girls cheer upon seeing him enter the shop.

Smiling meekly, you wave to Anti. “Hey.” You greet as he passes the two young women,

“Your mother said you went shopping.”

You nod. “You could have called me.”

He shrugs. “But then it wouldn’t be a surprise.” His smile is all the reward you need.

“Are you hungry?”

“Always.” He teases looking you up and down.

“Food, Anti.” you correct laughing.

He smirks. “That’ll do for now.” He teases again, wrapping his arms around your, holding you tight against his chest.

“Come on, Romeo. Let’s get some food.” You chuckle happily.

“Whatever makes you happy, Emi.” He whispers softly. His lips press into your hair. “I just want you happy.”

His words hit your hard. “I am happy, Anti. I’m happy with you.” You assure him, resting your head against his chest. “We need to sit down and talk about Dark when we get home.” You add quietly.

“I know. For now, let’s enjoy ourselves.” He agrees. Leading out of the shop, Anti shows you down the mall to an upscale restaurant.

[snarkwrites]

FFT: a visit from the sugarplum fairy; daryl dixon

Notes:

So this kinda.. turned weird. Like a vision / dream type thing in some parts. Pretty sure this would fall in either the timeline where Daryl and Evie arrive at quarry camp married or in their non apocalypse au, maybe both. Anyway, here tis.

Summary:

Daryl has an accident while hunting, that leads to a vision. That kind of comes true to an extent when years later, he meets Evie at a bar his brother Merle frequents and they wind up dating..

Warnings:

uhh, supernatural element - visions, injury mention, vague hints of Shane past and fluff.

Pairing:

Daryl Dixon x OFC, Evie

Everything went black and for a few seconds, Daryl Dixon found himself sort of just lingering, floating somewhere between conscious and unconscious. As he slipped between the two, everything around him outside of his mind carried on.

Daryl shielded his eyes at the blinding pure white light. “What th’ fuckin hell?” he muttered. His stomach churned. He couldn’t be dead. The anger bubbled forth, he was supposed to go out fighting, not be thrown from a damn horse. He was too young to die.

He didn’t particularly want to, either.

Maybe that’s why he called out, “Hey, yo, JC.. There’s a mistake, man. I ain’t dyin today. Not like this. Me n Merle, we’re gonna start our own garage when he gets outta th’ pen.”

His voice echoed.

The light seemed to flicker and pulsate and laughter bubbled out from within. Daryl’s brow raised and he stepped forward, hand raised. Into the light he went, despite everything in him knowing it might not be a good idea.

The lanky 16 year old stood there, watching a leggy blonde move around a kitchen, a little boy who looked like he did when he was a younger kid hot on her heels.

“Momma?”

“Yeah, Daryl?”

For a minute, Daryl thought he was seeing what could’ve been. What life might have been like if his mother bothered to sober up and his daddy was outta the picture. If she hadn’t nearly lit the whole damn house on fire and burned to death in her sleep because of her one last cigarette.

But things were… Off.

The house was too clean. There were things inside it that Daryl had only seen on commericals prior to that point. And his momma wasn’t blonde. She had light brown hair like his. The leggy blonde standing in front of the stove at the moment looked like she’d been ripped out of one of his wildest dreams.

He found himself drawn to her, unable to stop himself from moving closer.

The little boy spoke up again.

“When daddy gets home, think he’ll take me out to shoot my new bow?”

Daryl’s mouth curved upward in a smile and he chuckled. He noticed the calendar and he gaped at the date “December 21st 2009”, blinking and rubbing his eyes.

The little girl with her momma’s blonde hair raced into the room, genuinely excited. Like someone had given her all the dolls in the world, a fairy wing flapping crooked and dirty bare feet.

“Momma! Daddy’s motorcycle’s comin! I’ll get him a plate. I bet he’s real hungry.”

The blonde knelt down to the little girl “It is, huh, praline? Well then, I guess you better go get those hands washed. You let Momma worry about the table, m’kay?” and then she turned to the slightly older child. “You too, son. And I mean wash those hands. Don’t just go in and run water.”

“Momma, c’mon. My hands ain’t dirty.” the boy argued, pouting when his mother gave a firm shake of her head and pointed down the hallway. Daryl’s eyes followed her finger’s direction and he turned his attention back to the blonde and the boy, swallowing hard, waiting. Suddenly, he felt like he was standing on pins and needles. Hot ones at that. Her next words had him nearly choking.

“Daryl Jr, you get to that bathroom and wash those hands, sir.”

The boy slunk away, muttering to himself and making Daryl laugh as he observed it. And then, the strangest thing happened.

The little girl looked dead at him and took off at a run towards his denim clad legs, hugging them. Hazel eyes darted around the room and she motioned for Daryl to bend down, whispering into his ear in a rush, “We don’t have much time.. But I know who you are. And you’re not supposed ta be here, you’re supposed to grow up big and meet momma.”

Daryl swallowed hard as the reality of what was happening hit him like a speeding car. “That’s… I’m… We’re married?” he scoffed about it, a little more than shocked. For one thing, he didn’t really see himself married. For another, he didn’t see someone like her, marrying him.

… ain’t no way a woman like her gon’ marry trash like me… she looks like a fuckin angel… the thought came and Daryl found himself just staring at the blonde, watching the way she laughed, hugging what were apparently their kids. He looked from little girl to little girl and scratched his head, confused. She was there, and yet she stood right in front of him also.

… I gotta be dead, there ain’t no other explanation…

The little girl cleared her throat, making Daryl look at her again. “You gotta remember the name Evie. Cos that’s my momma and she loves you. You love her too.You gotta protect each other, okay? Promise me. Keep her away from a man named Shane.”

The little girl hugged him and Daryl, despite his not being a very affectionate guy, hugged the little girl back.  He couldn’t be the same man his own father had been, refusing to show any form of affection to his own kid.

As the scene around him began to fade away and the little girl began to fade, he asked her one more thing. “What if she don’t want the likes of me?”

“She will. Please, you… have to believe me…” the girl was gone, leaving Daryl standing alone in the darkness to puzzle over what he’d just witnessed.

“Hey, kid! Yo! You alive?” the voice kept repeating, poking and prodding. Daryl shrank away, throwing his arms up as a defense before finally opening his eyes and sitting up. He eyed the other teenage boy suspiciously, there was just something totally off about the guy, from the way he stared down at Daryl like he thought he was better or something to the way he held the hunting rifle over his shoulder.

“Shane, is he good? We need to get my daddy out here?” Another teenage male called from the distance.

The name that the little girl had given him came rushing back and Daryl sprang up to his feet, glaring up at the taller teenager. “ I’m good. Don’t need no goddamn help. From either of y’. Fuck off cos yer scarin off th’ deer I was chasin.”

Shane scoffed at the lanky kid, squaring up and Rick grumbled, moving to step between the two, fixing his gaze on his best friend. “Hey, Shane. Calm the hell down, buddy. Let’s just go… Leave this kid to it. He’s obviously fine, despite us findin’ him on the forest floor.”

Shane glared at Daryl and Daryl glared right back.

As the two teenagers wandered off, Daryl stood there scratching at his head, trying to process, remembering what the little girl dressed as a sugarplum fairy from his dream said in vivid detail.

He shook his head and turned away, taking the opposite direction in the forest, heading back for home…

That whole thing had to be a coincidence. Or a concussion, Daryl thought solemnly as he shook his head and wandered through the door of his father’s old trailer.

XXX

Evie eyed the biker bar and took a deep breath, steeling herself. The biggest step to being independent, to standing on her own two feet was a job. And she needed money. Shivering in the December wind, she made her way inside the bar, trying her best not to stare at any of the men present for too long as she made her way to the back, behind the bar.

One of them, a regular named Merle called out, “Hey! Sugartits! Give daddy a beer, yeah?”

“Dixon, I have a name.” one of the female bartenders called out with an annoyed look at the man. Evie tapped the bartender who’d just spoken on the shoulder.

“Hey, I’m… I’m real sorry to bother but I was supposed to be interviewin for a job?”

The brunette eyed her up and down and smirked, shoving a uniform at her. “You’ve got it, congratulations. Go on back and change, darlin because it’s about to get real hectic out here.”

Before Evie could ask where she needed to go, the brunette bartender had turned away and was pouring a round of shots for a local branch of Hell’s Angels, leaving Evie to her own devices. She hurried towards the general direction the other woman had bothered pointing in and in the process, she collided with a man wearing a sleeveless plaid shirt.

“Shit. I’m.. I’m sorry.” she stammered as the man turned, swearing and on the verge of snarling. Something in his eyes changed and he steadied her, staring at her a few long seconds, almost as if he’d seen a ghost.

“You new round these parts, hon?” the man asked and Evie managed to pull herself out of the depths of his eyes to nod. “I am, yeah.. Tonight’s my first night.”

He chuckled and my god, the sound. Deep and husky. Evie bit her lip and tried to focus anywhere but on his lips. But that lead her eyes straight to his biceps. She felt her cheeks heating up and she cleared her throat. “I don’t suppose you could tell me where a girl needs to go change, right?”

“Ladies room is down ‘at hall and to yer left.” the man stepped a little closer, almost as if to shield her when the group he was shooting pool with started to make little comments. He leaned in a little. “Ignore these fuckin assholes. I’ll keep my brother outta yer hair, he’s always had a thing for blondes and he’s the biggest asshole of us all.”

Evie could only nod… and of course stare like a complete idiot.

“Daryl, it’s yer shot, brother.” Merle staggered over, eyeing the blonde up and down and smirking as soon as he bothered to make eye contact. Evie gulped, backing further away from Merle and as a result, closer to Daryl.

“Merle, go on. Leave ‘er alone. Poor kid’s nervous enough without you runnin ‘er off.”

“What’s yer name, sugartits?”

“It’s Evie. Evie Grimes.”

“You new in town? I never seen you round these parts before.” Merle was inching closer. Daryl’s fists clenched at his side and his jaw tightened. “Goddamn it, Merle.”

“Shoot yer shot, brother.”

“Ain’t shootin shit til ya leave ‘er alone.” Daryl stood up straighter, eye level with his older brother and Merle chuckled, glancing from his brother to the blonde with the killer curves. “I see how it is. Well then, I’ll leave y’all to it.”

Evie let out a ragged breath and Daryl told her in a firm tone, “Best get movin, darlin. He’ll come back in about five seconds, he’s fuckin dumb like that.”

As Evie walked away, vanishing into the women’s room in back, Daryl let out a breath he’d been holding as a December afternoon years ago came flooding back. A dream about a little blonde girl in a sugarplum fairy costume her momma made for her and what she’d told Daryl during that dream.

He scoffed about it, chuckling to himself as he turned his attention back to the pool table.

It was just a coincidence, that was all.. It had to be.

XXX

Shane sat on the couch in his living room, watching the ball drop for New Years. The six pack he’d bought on his way in was long finished and the half a bottle of Jameson was on it’s way to being gone and all he wanted to do was drive to Atlanta and find her.

She had to miss him.

He missed her so much sometimes he almost couldn’t breathe.

… but it was yer own fault, you let ‘er go… you let ‘er think there wasn’t no future for y’all…

He stood and pocketed his keys. Maybe a drive would help clear his head. As he rode backroads and sobered up, all he kept thinking about was Evie and what she was doing in Atlanta. How much he missed her and how badly he messed it all up.

As he got closer to the interstate, rather than turning around and going back home, he kept going. By 2 am, he was sitting in the parking lot of the apartment complex she lived in. He saw a motorcycle zip past, stopping in front of her building. Evie got off the back of it, and Shane felt his stomach sink.

“Well. There went that, reckon.” he mumbled to himself, even though every part of him wanted to say something, let her know he was there and he was sorry.

The urge to do so took hold and before he could stop himself, he was getting out of his Bronco, hurrying towards the two.

“Hey! Evie, darlin.” he called out.

Evie tensed and bit her lip, eyes flitting between Daryl, who she’d just had a nice time with and considered a friend to Shane… Her ex. The one she’d hoped would be her happy ending. She sighed when she saw the look in his eyes because she knew then and there that Shane was only there to be all hot headed and cause chaos.

If he said he was sorry for anything, he wasn’t going to mean it. He hadn’t learned, hadn’t changed a damn thing.. And meeting Daryl had been a real eye opener for her in that she’d started to realize there were several varying degrees of love and sometimes, once you leave something behind in the past, it was best if it just stayed in the past.

“Shane, don’t. You need to leave.”

“I drove all a’ this way to see you, darlin.”

Daryl looked from Evie to the familiar looking dark haired man and the man glared right back at him before turning his attention back to Evie. “C’mon, hon.. Come home. You won’t have to do nothin, okay? I just… I need you.”

Evie swallowed hard. She’d been putting off driving that final nail in the coffin for a while now, but she was starting to see that the longer she just didn’t say anything about their relationship either way, the longer Shane would hold onto hope.

….just like he let you do for so long…. The thought came to her and she tilted her head, looking up at him. “We’re over, Shane. I can’t go back there with you and just pretend you won’t change your mind about us… About me… Every single time something better comes along. I’m not gonna spend my life waitin on you to grow up.”

“Evie, it ain’t like that.” Shane reached out for her and Daryl stood, moving closer, glaring at him as he stood taller and made it a point to put Evie behind him. He didn’t like the look of desperation in the man’s eyes. “She said it’s over. Have some fuckin respect for yerself and git.”

Shane eyed him dismissively. “Who the fuck are you?”

Daryl chuckled, “Gonna be yer worst fuckin nightmare if y’ don’t git gone like Evie here wants y’ to do.” as he stepped even more in front of Evie. He wasn’t sure why but something in the guy’s demeanor felt a little off. He could smell the alcohol on the guy and it made him think back to all the times his dad got out of the way with his mother just because he was drinking and she happened to be there. Evie was a close friend -and maybe he felt a little something more, so he wasn’t about to let her get hurt.

Evie looked from man to man and after a few seconds, she leaned against Daryl’s back and answered the question Shane asked.

“Daryl is my boyfriend, okay? Now will you please just go? Don’t keep at this, Shane. I’ve made up my mind.”

Shane felt like he’d been punched in the gut and he glanced at Evie, who was mostly hidden from his view by the other guy. “Darlin..”

“Go.”

“Get goin, man. She said she don’t want you startin nothin.” Daryl tensed, senses going into high alert as he squared up, ready and anticipating a fight.

Shane looked at them and shook his head, walking back towards his Bronco. “You get tired of playin house with that fuckin guy, just come home. I’ll be waitin.” - and even as he said it, he got this strong feeling that Evie wouldn’t be coming back to him. He got into the Bronco and drove away, the shock wearing off about halfway back to King County and becoming this overwhelming numbness instead.. Like someone who’d just lost a limb and wasn’t used to it yet.

He felt emptier now.

If he had to be alone, so be it. He’d go it alone. Because if he couldn’t have her back, he didn’t honestly want anyone.

Daryl turned to face Evie, staring down at her as he chuckled. “Yer man, huh? That really all you could come up with, darlin?”

Evie swallowed hard, her heart about to beat right out of her chest. Before she could stop herself, it was all pouring out. She stepped closer, her arms going around his neck as she pulled him down to her level, mumbling into his mouth, “Maybe that’s all I wanted to come up with, Daryl. What’s so wrong with that, huh?”

Daryl’s hands slowly moved down from her hips to her ass, fingertips digging into her jeans as he pulled her even closer, bringing her mouth into the kiss deeper answering quietly, “Nothin, darlin. Nothin at all. Just shocked I guess.”

“Happy New Year, Daryl.”

“Happy New Year, darlin.”

After a few more lingering kisses, Daryl nodded towards her apartment building and gave a smirk. “Wouldn’t be yer man if I didn’t walk y’ up.” he held out his arm to her and Evie slipped her arm through his, smiling up at him. “You still wanna go ridin again tomorrow? I really like ridin the motorcycle with you.”

“Anytime you wanna, hon.” Daryl answered, giving her a teasing wink as they walked up the stairs leading to her floor…

[deaksandgeeks]

Later That Night

(John Deacon x F!Reader)

3385 words, 18+ (I’m serious). John and Reader meet out at a bar one night with friends, but don’t go home together. He can’t stop thinking about her and the next best thing happens. 

A/N: Only really got into the Queen fandom in a big way in the last little bit. I also haven’t written anything in a really long time (like, years) and I am terrified to post this, but am doing it anyway, because follow your dreams, amirite? Also, there’s a bit of a buildup to the sexy bits ‘cause I like to set the stage. I am a dramatic bitch.

Warnings: SMUT, solo stuff, probably some cursing because it is impossible for me to go more than ten minutes without swearing, even in my writing. 

Touring in the United States for the first time was exciting in the beginning. It was new territory and being popular internationally was something that they had wanted for the band for a long time, especially in a market as large as America. The only problem being, they were away from their lives at home and missed small comforts. John was getting especially restless.

Roger seemed to be handling it the best, clearly trying to make the most of his time abroad. In an effort to cheer the others up, he suggested they head out of the hotel and try to enjoy the city they were staying in. Freddie liked the suggestion, but John and Brian didn’t exactly want to go out and get into trouble. The tour left them with an extra night in Connecticut, of all places, and Roger thought it would be a good chance to “scout the local talent.” They knew he was mostly joking but agreed it would be nice to be able to take a night to blow off some steam.

The place they ended up wasn’t anything special, but it was decently full. It was some tavern within walking distance of the hotel. The main appeal of it was that it didn’t seem too pretentious. They found a round booth near the back that was empty, and Brian and John scooted in to sit down. The four of them removed their jackets and lazily tossed them down on the extra bench space, of which there was plenty. The table was clearly made to accommodate eight or so people. Roger and Freddie tossed their jackets on top of Brian’s and headed to the bar to grab drinks for the table. While they were gone, one of the waitresses walked over.

“Did you guys need drinks?” The phrasing was curt, but her tone was polite. She was cute.

“No thank you, love. Our friends are just up at the bar.” Brian gestured to Roger and Freddie, but it was a second before she turned around to look. Her eyes sparkled when Brian spoke.

“I like your accent.” She smiled and cocked her head, but Brian just laughed gently.

“Thank you.” He dipped his head a little, hoping not to take this any further. “We appreciate the service, love. We’ll find you the next time we need anything.”

She recognized she was being dismissed, however politely, and turned to John to give him a once over. She quickly turned back to Brian. Clearly, she had a preference.

“My name’s Susan, if you need anything.” She brushed her long dark hair over her shoulder before walking away to tend to another table, order pad in hand.

Freddie and Roger returned carrying four beers, and Roger holding a tray of shots. A man on a mission, apparently.

“I thought about getting the bottle, but we’ll see where the night takes us,” Roger professed as he put the tray down and slid it in closer to Brian and John, spilling Crown Royal onto the plastic platter. At least he didn’t get any on the table, which was already a little sticky.

Roger raised his bottle to toast and the other three did the same. “Cheers, boys!” They each took a pull before Freddie sat down and Roger turned to the room. He leaned on the elevated table with his elbow, surveying the other patrons.

The first round was taken down mostly in silence. Everyone was tired and still sober, so they hadn’t much to say, yet. Roger doled out four of the eight shots from the tray to get everyone to loosen up. Freddie was a good sport, but Brian and John already seemed to be ready to call it a night. Roger caught John’s eye roll while they took their shots, and when the bassist went to chase the whisky with a sip of his beer, Roger reached across the table and playfully lifted the bottom of his bottle. John chuckled a bit and took a bigger gulp. Roger seemed satisfied.

Freddie scooted out of the booth and crossed the floor to the jukebox, to see if anything tickled his fancy. On his way he caught the eye of a young lady, who appeared to be focused on his skin-tight jeans, but managed to make eye contact when she greeted him.

“Oh, Freddie’s got one.” Roger nodded over in his bandmate’s direction, as if Brian and John hadn’t seen the whole thing. He gave a whistle. “Great legs. Wonder how long it takes her to figure it out.”

They watched the tall girl nod enthusiastically at whatever Freddie was saying, before smiling broadly. She was clearly gushing over him. He leaned in and gave her a hug and she looked as if she would faint.

“Must be a fan,” Brian suggested. “Don’t bring her over here, Fred.”

They all watched as he motioned over to their table.

“Why not?” Roger contested.

They observed the girl nod and point to the table she’d been sitting at, where another young lady was stationed, eyes fixed on the encounter and eagerly waiting for her to return. The leggy brunette hurried back to where she had been sitting and grabbed her coat off the back of her chair, while she picked up her pint and explained the situation to her friend. The other one gathered her coat and drink, too, as well as a third drink on their table. They patiently waited for Freddie to select a song, then walk past their table to collect them and bring them over to his own.

Brian sighed as he watched the three of them approach. John smirked at Roger, who smiled at the girls in a very welcoming manner.

“Look what I found!”

“Hello, ladies.” Roger opened his arms and slid one around the shorter girl’s shoulders.

She looked up at him as if the sun rose and set in him. Brian and John each nodded politely at their new guests.

“These young ladies are…”

“Cassie,” the tall one offered quickly.

“Natasha.”

“Yes, so, Cassie, Natasha and… there’s a third one, yes?” Freddie looked to them for confirmation, and they both nodded but neglected to give their friends’ name. “These three young ladies drove down from Canada to see our performance last night.” He motioned proudly to the two of them. The band had only started to gain traction in America. It was actually quite flattering that they’d found fans with such dedication.

Just as Freddie was about to invite them to sit down, John, who had been watching their now empty table, began laughing. Everyone turned to see what had amused him. Standing a few tables away in the middle of the room was a very confused looking young woman, scanning her surroundings, most likely for her friends, coat, and purse, all of which had gone missing. She looked comically lost. Cassie waved an arm in the air to catch her attention.

“(Y/N)!”

Her head whipped around, and she started to approach her friends quickly.  Her expression was slightly confused, until the situation dawned on her and she stopped in her tracks. She stood in place for a split-second, before continuing as if nothing happened. Everyone had seen her reaction but tried to hide their laughter to be polite.

Introductions were exchanged and the girls were offered seats in the ample booth as Brian and John tucked their jackets over the back of the bench. (Y/N) slid in without hesitation, securing a spot next to John. Cassie next to her, before Freddie sat against the edge. Natasha picked the seat next to Brian, but kept her eyes on Roger, who remained standing.

The girls explained how they’d made it down from their hometown. One of them had a cousin in the city, who bought their tickets as a lure to get them to come visit. Something about growing up together, lifelong friends, the usual. Apparently, their American host had an overnight shift at the hospital, and wasn’t present that evening, but they assured the band that all four of them had enjoyed the show immensely.

The waitress, Susan, came by again, and gave Natasha a disapproving glance, clearly not realizing that she just happened to be sitting next to Brian, not that she had any real interest in him. She took an order for another round. Roger also made sure to order three more shots, so as not to exclude the young ladies, after which the conversation started to pick up. The girls seemed nervous at first, but the alcohol helped, and Freddie was so welcoming that they quickly loosened up and became less star-struck.

It was becoming fairly clear that Natasha was fixing to end the evening with Roger, and he seemed to be all for that. Cassie watched Freddie with the utmost admiration but didn’t seem to have designs on him. (Y/N) was clearly trying to play it cool, but kept crossing and un-crossing her legs, not-so-accidentally brushing up against John under the table in the process. He’d admit he liked the attention, but it wasn’t what he was looking for tonight. She smelled fantastic, though.

After a few more drinks, a handful more attempts by the waitress to flirt with Brian, and an invitation lacking a modicum of subtlety from Roger for the girls to head back to the hotel, John was ready to call it an evening. (Y/N) was leaning against his shoulder and her body heat was becoming more inviting by the minute. He really didn’t want to be making any irresponsible decisions and was honestly looking forward to a night where he could squeeze in a couple extra hours of sleep.

She’d clearly been very interested in him from the moment they met, and John hated to let such an attractive young woman feel as though she wasn’t appreciated. John indulged (Y/N) a little by putting his hand on her knee and leaning in to whisper in her ear.

“I think it’s time I left.”

Her head snapped around to look him in the eye, her lips parted and eyes blazing. He laughed at himself, immediately realizing his (mostly unintentional) mistake. He leaned in close to her one more time.

“It was lovely meeting you. Would you be so kind?” He motioned for her to slide out of the booth, allowing him to leave. She closed her mouth and her expression changed to one of disappointment, but she nodded obligingly, before giving him a rueful smile.

She gave a gentle nudge to Cassie who was lost in conversation with Freddie, but they both picked up on the signal immediately. Everyone shuffled out of the one side of the booth, and John slid out behind them. They were all pooled at the end of the table, and John brushed up against (Y/N)’s backside as he stood up, trying to squeeze by everyone. He tensed when her back arched instinctively, feeling that he was already semi-hard from how close they’d been sitting all night. He gently placed a hand on her waist as he pulled away from her, and they both let out a slow breath.

Roger tried to convince his band mate to stay, but John knew he had to get going before things heated up any further. He made sure to thank the girls for making the trip to see their show and wished a warm goodbye to everyone at the table. As Brian passed his jacket over their drinks, John grazed the tips of his fingers against (Y/N)’s arm, before sliding them to her elbow and locking eyes with her one last time.

He walked to the door, pulling his jacket on, and headed back to the hotel.

When he arrived in his room, which he shared with Brian, he was glad to have some time to himself. He tossed his jacket on the end of his bed, closest to the door. They had a couple beers sitting on the desk in the room, and he cracked one open. He took a sip and looked around the room, thinking he might still be too wired to fall asleep. Part of him regretted leaving the bar early, but he knew it was the right decision. Still.

The idea that she was so willing wasn’t what excited him. It was just her. She was magnetic, in a way, and while he knew it would have been too dangerous, an ever-growing part of him wished he had stayed, just to soak in a little more of her. He was quite certainly attracted to her, and the clear evidence presented that she felt the same was nearly overwhelming. It was too easy to tease her. He was sure that she was aware of just how much he had enjoyed doing it, too.

He set his beer on the table and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

It had been a while since he’d had enough privacy to jerk off properly. Always having to quietly rush while in the shower, or awkwardly keep silent in his bunk on the bus. Typically, it would discourage him altogether, and he found himself getting cranky the longer they were on tour. He decided to make the most of his time alone tonight.

The mirror came all the way down to the sink and he could see his reflection down to his thighs. He regarded himself while leaning one arm on the counter, before sliding his hand along the waist of his jeans, unfastening the button and pulling the zipper down. Reaching in, he began to stroke himself steadily, still half-ready from earlier in the evening, while gently sliding his jeans down his hips a little. He pulled his cock out over the sink and looked down at himself in his hand. Not bad.

He began slowly, gently. He closed his eyes and inhaled, thinking about the girl from the bar. She was such a good-looking thing. Sharp, too. He thought about a few of the jokes she’d made. The way her eyes flickered with mischief when she knew she’d made him laugh. He thought about the moment she’d lost her earring and had to slide under the table to retrieve it, surprisingly gracefully. He imagined her giving him that mischievous look from under the table, looking up at him with hollow cheeks and her plump lips wrapped around his cock.

He started to stroke himself faster.

He thought about pressing up against her when he left. How her plush ass felt against him, as he was already starting to get excited from her physical flirtations. He started breathing heavier. He thought about the way her back had arched at the contact. He had already known she wanted to fuck him at that point, but that had been too much. He thought about how badly he had wanted to grab her, right then and there, pulling her up against him until he was smothered in her soft ass.

He imagined her arching her back for him now, presenting for him as he pushed her up against the edge of the counter. He imagined running his hands along her smooth skin, up under her skirt, only to find she wasn’t wearing any panties. He imagined how he’d glide his hands over her waist and up her chest, aggressively pulling her blouse open, and the ticking sounds of buttons clattering over the counter and tile floor, before taking handfuls of her firm breasts.

He could almost hear her mewling and sighing as he slipped inside her, and could practically feel how wet she’d be, dying for his cock. He imagined grabbing a fistful of her hair and pulling her head back to him as he’d thrust into her, burying his face in her neck. He remembered how good she smelled.

John bit his lip and watched his own reflection with half-lidded eyes for a moment, before returning to his reverie. He already knew how much she’d love the way he’d fuck her. How she’d call his name, and her gentle feminine moans as she succumbed to pleasure. The sound of their skin slapping together as he bumped up against her ass and the backs of her thighs. The feeling of her juices making a mess all over the two of them.

He was leaning forward now, feeling close as he pumped his fist faster. He looked at the tiny bottles on the counter, grabbing for shampoo, Vaseline, anything. He nabbed the closest one.

Aftershave? Not that.

The next bottle he snatched was lotion and he poured a generous dollop into his hand before wrapping his hand around his shaft again. He let out a low moan, knowing no one could hear him and that he could make as much noise as he wanted. His breathing quickened as he pictured (Y/N) undone and cursing, dying for release. Her hair a mess in his hand, eyes closed and mouth open. How the reflection of her tits bouncing would look in the mirror, as he pushed into her, over and over. Her hands would be clutching the edge of the counter as her hips bucked back into him, matching his rhythm, taking all of him in and adoring him.

He imagined her crying his name one final time, and the feeling of her tightening and flexing around him as she came on his cock, loving having every inch of him buried inside of her.  

He remembered the look of pure lust in her eyes when she thought he was taking her home. The thought occurred to him that (Y/N) would no doubt be in a similar state tonight, indulging in an almost identical fantasy to his. He quickened the pace of his hand until it was nearly frantic.

He could hear her voice, tauntingly innocent. “Should I stop? Am I being bad?”

The image of her touching herself while thinking of him drove John over the edge. Eyes closed, he leaned his head back. With a soft, almost inaudible whimper he came hard, spurting come all over the sink, tap and mirror in waves.

Spent and suddenly exhausted, he took a moment to lean with both hands on the counter, breathing heavily. He cleaned the sink off and refastened his jeans before walking back into the room to grab his beer. He guzzled half of it in one go, then went back into the bathroom and started the shower, just as he heard Brian return.

Brian looked tired as he shut the heavy hotel door behind him as quietly as he could and greeted John with a small wave. The two of them briefly chatted about how the rest of the evening had gone at the bar, Brian not noticing how flushed John was. Nothing too crazy happened after John had left, but everyone had left Roger there with Natasha. The other girls had gone back to where they’d been staying nearby, and Freddie was currently in his room where Brian had dropped him off.

“Do you mind if I get in there before you?” Brian pointed to the washroom. John nodded to him absentmindedly as he picked at the label on the bottle that was still in his hand. He wondered how long the girls had been home and speculated how long (Y/N) would hold out before thinking about him properly. He was vaguely aware of the sound of the tap running and tooth-brushing, while his mind wandered.

He hadn’t even noticed the washroom was free again, until Brian started to change out of his clothes to crawl into his bed on the far side of the room. By now the shower had heated up and steam filled the room, fogging the mirror. John distractedly wished Brian a goodnight as he shut the door. He quickly pulled his clothes off, before stepping into the current and relaxing in the hot water.

As he stood for a moment, feeling the droplets hit his skin, his mind drifted back to (Y/N). Was she thinking about him right now? Maybe she’d already finished. She’d clearly been very eager earlier, it probably wouldn’t take her very long to get off. She could already be on her second round by now.

His cock twitched a little.

He wondered what she’d look like here with him, naked and surrounded by a haze of steam, hair soaked and skin slick with warm running water.

Hm. Something to think about.

[unholyhelbig]

Uh that’s a massive YES to a part 2 of that ‘Old Time AU’ where Beca’s a painter hired by Chloe’s rich old husband to paint his wife - I bloody loved part 1 👍 way to go dude!!

[A/N: Hey, here is part two. Something tells me I have to write a part three, but as always, let me know!] 

CHECK OUT PART ONE HERE!

If Beca Mitchell was confident in any situation, it wouldn’t have made a difference. The resolve that she had built up over years of sailing open water and devoting her life to her art fell away in a matter of seconds. Seconds where the world seemed to the slow and her heart began to stop. Where she couldn’t hear words or feel her own strong stance holding her up.

It all just stopped.

The warm breeze that blew in from the courtyard didn’t seem to thaw her nerves- a thick scent of honeysuckles and lemons coating her lungs as Beca flexed her fingers in her pocket; checking to see if they were real. Checking to see if she was in fact, real.

Chloe tucked the mask under her arm, chest heaving up and down as she stepped foot onto the terracotta patio, red hair almost matching the strong consistency of her coppery locks. Sweat coated almost every inch of exposed ivory skin- and those eyes, those eyes were the spitting image of the very ocean that Beca spent her lively hood navigating.

The woman in front of her didn’t look like a human at all. She looked godly, she looked like the legends that seamen spin about the beings carved into the bows of their ships- clutching onto the material in living creative mutiny. They described them as siren’s, otherworldly beings that would utilize their vocal cords to lure those looking for something more into a deathly trap. Those dumb enough to fall in love, but smart enough to know that it was worth the demise. Worth the pain and suffering.

The leggy chef had effectively moved away from her new companion, fingers reaching for the brass faucet as she filled two crystal glasses with water, ice clinking in its translucent silence. Beca, however, stood in complete awe. Not trusting herself to move even if she had the capacity to do so.

“I see you do have something in common with the rest of them.” Stacie mused, the hint of a teasing smirk in her voice. “They can never help to stare, either. Ramirez very well got lockjaw.”

“Ramirez?” The word dripped like poison past Beca’s lips. She straightened up, that spark from seeing the woman for the first time tapering down to a well-lit flame. The mention of this, this man, who had tried and failed to create a portrayal of someone this deserving. “The Spanish painter?”

“That’s the one.” Stacie cocked her head to the side “Devilishly handsome, a huge ego. You know him then”

“We call him El Demonio” Beca let out in almost a scoff, flashing her midnight eyes to the two women who shared a conversation just on the other side of the glass- Aubrey clenching the handle but not yet pulling the item away from the wall. “He has a harsh way of making a canvas an object to be slathered in red, and not a feeling that should be treated with care.”

“I suppose,” Stacie spoke carefully “His work was a bit… edged.”

“It’s rubbish!” Beca grumbled, turning her back to the scene beside her as she focused on the chef standing idly by the sink. “Daniel Ramirez is a disgrace to the community. When you paint something, it shouldn’t be a chore, you need to feel it through every inch of your body. Somewhere along the line, that man became more about the payout than the craft. Te juro que el hombre folla todo lo que camina”

Her voice turned into a low growl, Stacie letting her shoulders fall back at the twinge of jealousy that bestowed her new-found friend. It was almost amusing, seeing how worked up she got in the presence of another artist. One that she clearly deemed unworthy of being in such a position.

“No lo sé, no era tan malo.” The voice was like silk, a heavy and light property all at once. Beca had never heard anything like it, exposed skin filled with chills as she bolted upright, eyes widening as she noticed Stacie’s attention on something else, someone else. “He did teach me Spanish, so he had the patience of an artist.”

Beca clenched her eyes shut, drawing in a composing breath. The taller brunette with an amusing stare on her lips as she handed over the two glasses of water to the women over Beca’s shoulder. The blonde grasping it with a small nod of thanks before raising the crystal to her lips, taking a few long gulps as Chloe simply wrapped her fingers around hers.

“Forgive me,” Beca mumbled exhaustedly, turning to face the two that almost towered over her. Even with their tired looks, and sweat coated brows, they were still a sight to behold- still keeping a long and pensive stare at the newest addition to the staff. “That was crude.”

“No need to apologize,” Chloe’s voice came out as a low purr, she never broke eye contact with the girl in that stood in her kitchen as she rose the sweaty glass to her lips. She took a few long sips, not stopping as drops moved down her chest and soaked into the white fencing guard. Beca squinted her eyes, watching carefully. Again, this stranger had captivated her attention with a simple everyday action.

Aubrey cleared her throat then, snapping stormy eyes towards the woman. Equally as beautiful, looking more like a descendant of Athens with deep Irish eyes. The sun backlit her, jaw chiseled from stone. “You must be the new artist that Garret hired.” It wasn’t a question.

“The one and only,” Beca let a lazy smile find a way to her lips. She held out her hand, Aubrey hesitating as she took it, touch gentle and hot from the outside activity. “Beca Mitchell.”

“I’ve never seen your work.” She cut straight to the point, lifting her chin.

“Many haven’t, my art isn’t conventional. I don’t paint to earn money, I paint to gain experience. So you wouldn’t see my stuff in a chapel, or hanging on a wall.” She admitted, pulling her hand back. Chloe swallowed the last of her water- placing it on the table softly, her eyes moved to warm blue ones. “I’m not even sure how your husband found me.”

“He has his ways, Beca.” Chloe steeled her shoulders. The tiny brunette lifting her head up slightly. This was the first time since she had been in this house that she didn’t have to correct someone on using the less formal version of her name. It rolled off the older woman’s tongue like hot honey dripping past the beehive. “Now, I’m going to freshen up.”

Dark eyes scanned over Beca’s figure, they had changed color almost completely, dilated and filled with what could only be described as danger. They looked uncharacteristically hungry, not something the young artist expected from her client. Especially one in a committed marriage. Aubrey drew in a sharp breath, noticing the change in atmosphere.

“Beca, are you coming?”

“Am I?” The brunette started to bumble over her words “Do you… want me to?”

A certain heat pushed against Beca’s cheek, her breath short as she looked between the other women in the room. They acted like this was normal behavior, like this is what the artists that were let into this compound did. She was supposed to paint, not follow this mysterious stranger into a shower.

“Of course, I do.” Chloe cocked her head to the side like Beca was the one who had a deep madness instilled in her. “How are you going to paint something you’ve never seen?”  

The bedroom was bigger than anything she had ever seen- the colors translating from the rest of the mansion. There was a central theme of red, something that the girl found odd. No room that was painted with the energetic color ever translated to calm.

It somehow worked for the space; a large wooden four post bed was coated in the most extravagant duvet (probably made out of the best silk and finest fabric). The large curtains were peeled back, bringing in a large rectangle of light.

Chloe cut across it in one swift move, dropping the chest guard on the mattress unceremoniously, leaving her in a black tank-top, the thin coat of sweat catching the rays as she let out a small sigh, Beca creaking the door shut as she stood uncomfortably by them- her back practically glued to the mahogany.

“Red is an interesting choice.” She mumbled, breaking the silence, knowing that it was becoming even heavier than usual. Beca took a small step forward, watching as Chloe started to unbuckle the guards and paddings that came with her choice in sport. “Colorwise.”

“Is it?” Chloe scrunched up her nose nervously.

“It raises heart rate.” Beca mused, not getting to close to the other end of the bed. “People usually use it for living areas or kitchens, but never bedrooms.”

“Oh really?” She smirked, “And what would you suggest I paint this place?”

Beca drew in a small breath, staring around the room as Chloe followed her gaze, stopping where she saw the tiny woman. The woman who had captivated her attention more than any of the other painters her husband had brought in. She was strong and captivating and chilled her to the bone. But she held her composure. Held her trembling hands steady.

“Blue.” She whispered, bringing her gaze up to the woman that stood uncomfortably close. She had taken a few tiny steps across the end of the bed, thumb looped in her belt as she was in the middle of stripping her lower half. “It has the opposite effect of red. Not that harsh stuff your husband put everywhere. It has to be soft.” Beca brought her voice down a bit. “Kind of like your eyes.”

“My eyes?” Chloe eased out. Her breath was hot on Beca’s collarbone.

“They shift from green to blue, correct?” the small brunette let out a half chuckle. By the look of confusion, she got from the redhead solidified her skepticism. “Or, you’ve never noticed, and I sound like an absolute lunatic right now.”

“What kind of idiot doesn’t know what their own eyes look like.” Chloe cracked a smile that brought out the light in the room. A strong and dazzling one that made such a heat press against the smaller girl’s abdomen. Her voice was barely above a whisper, something raspy and hoarse.

There was an odd silence that passed over the room, one that stirred the brunette’s thoughts. “Chloe, do you even want a painting?”

The redhead drew in a thick breath, her stare averting from her new counterpart. The stranger who stood shorter than her. She wasn’t like the other guys that her husband brought in to capture her likeness. She was willing and able and carried a stronger energy than anyone she had met. The passion was there.

“Honestly, no.” She cocked her head to the side. “Garret Beale is obsessed with image. He wants people to see me the way that he does- but as an artist, I’m sure you know that’s near impossible. Everybody interprets life a different way.”

“In other words, he’ll never be satisfied with anyone’s work because it’s not through his eyes.”

She nodded solemnly. “I have no interest in being objectified countless times, Beca.” Chloe lifted her chin “he has brought so many people into my home, into my livelihood just to what? Have a good piece to hang above the mantel.”

Beca’s mouth was dry. She could hear the pain in this woman’s voice. This near stranger that had been subjected to hours a day of sitting still- probably growing a strong hatred to whoever held the brush, whoever drew the lines and colored them in. Because the truth was, her painting would go above a fireplace- maybe in the office, or in the countless studies that Garret owned. That man would sit with delicately wrapped cigars and stare up at his wife’s naked form like she was just that; an object.

“I uh,” Beca swallowed roughly. “I won’t take a part in that if you don’t… if you’re not comfortable.”

“Of course, I’m comfortable, Beca.” She smirked, “I married him, didn’t I?”

She opened her mouth to object, to speak. Nothing came to mind, her own racing as if it never had a pause button. Part of the reason she painted in the first place. It was like a slow button, it let her focus on the hue’s in the flowers, and colors in the skies.

“Now, Miss Mitchell” She dragged out the word huskily, gripping the bottom of her tank-top. In one swift movement she pulled it above her head- hair still falling into her gaze as the top half of her body was left cruelly uncovered. The fabric being discarded onto the floor somewhere. Beca averting her gaze to the ceiling. “Are you going to paint me, or what?”                      

[lostinthe-pines-blog]

Olivia. Ch. 4 - A Country Run by Sex

A multi-chapter story that follows Liam and MC as they spend their first year ruling as King and Queen of Cordonia. As they rule together they realize their strongest ally is the one person from the one place their people have rejected. Questioning why Liam and MC still support Olivia and Lythikos they work together to restore her reputation.

Story-lines from The Royal Romance books have been altered slightly.

NOTE: This is a fictional story based on Pixelberry’s Choices App. *The Royal Romance books. I am not affiliated with Pixelberry nor do I own the rights to their original characters.

TAGS: @katurrade @emerald-bijou @speedyoperarascalparty @captain-kingliamsqueen @purplegreyshrimp @museofbooks

The sounds of rain are similar to that of static on an old television. The drops fall so hard and so fast you can barely see through them. From behind a glass window the sight would have been beautiful, safe, cozy even. But this was going to be one of those Cordonian storms that kept people inside their homes for days. Kept people watching the breathtaking sights from safety. The streets and hills were bare, everyone had found protection now, everyone except Drake and Olivia.  

This storm brought something more than rain with it. It brought the entire court into some kind of royal “funk”. MC could feel it on everyone. She’d never truly thought about how much pain her friends had been through in their life, each year these memories were brought up again because of this one celebration. She was determined to find a reason for them to look forward to this day from now on.

She stared out the window at the rain as she sat in front of a small burning fire. It was mid summer and she was freezing. Liam laid on the floor beside her, his sleeping head in her lap. He fell asleep comfortably due to her fingers running through his still wet hair.

After arriving from the rain she’d forced him into a shower, staying by his side for an hour in the hot stream of water. This wasn’t the shower people lust for in their erotic movies and books. She cared for him she let him cry and share his worries, listening to his stories and his fears for Olivia, Drake, the storm and the coming weekend.  She reassured him that while being King would never be easy, the one thing he was excellent at was supporting his friends, his allies and standing strong by his word. She helped him wash not only the grime form his skin but the pain from his mind. The pair of them would be inseparable in the coming weekend and she didn’t mind it at all. His touch still excited her as it had that night in front of the Statue of Liberty years ago.  

----

Drake and Olivia made it back to the palace and Drake placed a strong hand around her waist helping her walk in her emotional stumble. As he finally made it to her familiar bedroom in the East Wing he left her there at the door. He knew his place was not at Olivia Nevrakis’s side. Except for maybe tonight, for as he turned to leave his hand as jerked back, his eyes meeting Olivia’s.

“Please don’t go.” she begs refusing to break eye contact with him. Pleading for his company with every passing second.

Drake had only seen Olivia like this once before in her life. Drake and Olivia’s history was full of mocking and hate. But as they got older they both realized that the old tale that kids were mean to each other because they had ‘crushes’ might be completely true. At this moment staring into Olivia’s longing eyes his memories flashed through him.

“Liam! You must dance with Olivia tonight, she is your betrothed!” Regina, Liam’s newest mother called to him. Liam rolled his eyes in return, having just turned 17 the young boy of course cared for Olivia but his wandering eyes cared more for a few different girls around the ballroom that evening. “Liam I’m serious!” she demanded looking toward Liam’s older brother. “Leo danced with Madeleine even though he didn’t want too!” she declares.

“Leo’s also going to be king and has to do whatever his Queen Mother tells him..” Liam spits back before stepping away to join Maxwell, Drake and a party of young women he’d yet to meet.

As the night went on dance after dance the love struck Olivia sat in the corner waiting for Liam’s arms to wander to her, to embrace her. This was all she’d wanted even if it was forced. As the final dance of the night began Liam looked to Olivia catching her eyes for a moment before returning his gaze to a young blonde from Canada who was visiting for the celebration.

Olivia hadn’t danced all night, in fact she’d driven herself mad watching as Liam moved from girl to girl, but never to her. She was a cold and strong young woman as her mother had raised her to be, but in this moment she wanted to burst. Her head filled with thoughts of betrayal in their future as she sat assuming she’d be alone again for the final dance. As she looked down to her feet thinking through her terrifying thoughts a hand appeared to be reaching out to her.

“Come on Nevrakis, I know you want to dance. Swallow your pride and come with me.” Drake offered giving her an inviting smile, hoping his caring side could fall in line with hers for once.

Staring up at him Olivia wanted to laugh but for the first time she noticed the hint of green that traveled through Drake Walkers dark brown eyes. She saw him a little differently now; though she’d never thought of it before. She reached for his hand and almost jumped when she felt his fingers find a home at the small of her back pulling her close to him.

Dancing to a final song which neither of them would remember, they would both spend the following weeks trying to forget the shared conversation at the end of their time together.

“He’s just a teenage boy, it’s not an excuse, but he’s trying to explore.” Drake explains for his distant friend.

Olivia scoffs in return “Not like I care, the leggy blondes can have him now but I have him in marriage.” she chimes confidently, though Drake sees right through it.

“I know you care Olivia.” he calls her bluff “I know you care about a lot of things, and people. I’d say you even care for me on your best days.” Drake teases in return.

“I do not care for you Walker.” she spits rolling her eyes letting them fall on Liam crossed the room locking his lips with another girl. Her eyes look back to Drakes as disappointment falls to her face.

As Drake spins he sees what’s caused this look and he tightens his grip on her back hoping to show his support for her.

“Fine… I do care.” she says looking toward the ground still dancing in sync with him. “But don’t ever tell anyone or I’ll destroy you!” she says laying her head on his chest out of weakness.

 And for a brief moment the teenage stable boy’s heart skips a beat.

Olivia’s grip was tight on Drake's hand, he would be staying whether he wanted to or not. Ignoring the pain in his hand he started into her eyes seeing the same look he had as teenagers. “Alright” he responds stepping closer to her his chest almost touching her own.

As she looks up to him, her chest swells with confusion and lust. Her mind plays tricks as the boy she’d been repulsed by for years begins to become handsome through her stare. His stubble peaking through she reaches a hand to his caring face caressing the thick hairs. She wouldn’t remember the exact moves she made later but she would remember the result of them. She stands on her toes barely needed raise her face to his. Their eye contact doesn’t break as she gets closer and closer. In that moment her hand moves from his face to his neck and he closes the gaps pressing his lips longingly to hers. Their eyes close as Olivia returns the kiss, feeling him grip at her sopping wet riding clothes. She pulls away only for a moment and leads him into a room they’d both known as their guest room over the years.

Maxwell wanders down the familiar hallways having arrived in the afternoon he sees Drake’s body language moving close to Olivia before closing the door behind them. Odd behavior for the pair, Maxwell can’t believe what he’s just seen. “No way!” he says to himself running toward the Kings suite. Pounding on the door quickly he yells “MC! MC!” his laughter at his thoughts taking over him.

The pounding at the door wakes Liam in MC’s lap and their gaze turns to the heavy doors. Liam sits up quickly walking toward the loud knocking and opening it to see his boisterous friend. 

“Maxwell some people are trying to sleep.” he protests

“First Liam, you’re the king… you don’t sleep. And second it’s 4 pm bedtime is hours away! And Third! I just saw the strangest thing!” He exclaims looking toward the brunette still sitting on the ground.

Liam was proud of the friendships MC had created with his closest friends, it almost scared him that Maxwell was better friends with her now that he had ever been with Liam.  

MC stands to meet her husband and friend near the doorway. “What?” she asked curiously and quickly as Maxwell pushes his way into the private bedroom. The King and Queen both admired his lack of boundaries.

“Olivia and Drake are…” Maxwell’s eyes go wide as he begins to make obscene sexual gestures with his hands.

Liam playfully slaps down his hands with laughter “Yeah right, Beaumont. You did not see them doing that.” he calls his bluff.

“Okay I didn’t, but she basically pulled him into her room. With those longing and weirdly enticing Nevrakis eyes. Plus her red hair was almost like medusa wrapping around his body pulling him to her.” he continues to over dramatize the situation talking quickly.  

MC laughs twisting her fingers through Liam’s “Maxwell… you sure do have a way of explaining things” she chuckles. “But Drake and Olivia’s sexual exploits are theirs to have not ours. Please leave them alone.” she commands with a genuine tone. “Please.” she emphasizes again.

“Fine, whatever but if we end up with the pitter patter of Nevrakis-Walker babies on the floor of this palace before the sound of your own you’ll have an entire country to face.” Maxwell mocks again. 

In the past few weeks passing the year mark of their marriage the country had been in an uproar about the King and Queen producing an heir. Liam’s family bloodline had been trusted for centuries and he would be tasked with continuing it. Maxwell’s mocking was not the first time they’d been told they needed to procreate.

“Welcome to the palace” MC changes the subject, “I didn’t know you were here…” she says smoothly transitioning out of the awkward topic; knowing it wouldn't be long before Maxwell’s playful personality brought it back.

“Thanks!” he says uninvited jumping onto the unmade sheets of the large bed in the room. “When I got here you two were canoodling in the shower so I figured I’d get some work done in the offices. Ran into Regina and got to catching up!” he explains passing quickly over the topic of her rulers relationship.

Liam looked to MC questioning the last remark, “Regina?” he asked quickly not knowing his step mother was even in the palace today. She’d been spending most of her time at her own duchy with Madeleine and her family. Liam released his wife's fingers and nodded before heading out of the room. He knew if Regina was there she had business and she’d find him eventually.

Leaving MC alone with Maxwell, her regal side dropped and she hopped on the bed next to the man who’d slowly become one of her best friends. “So you’re really into other people sex lives today.” she says flatly “Care to talk about your own?” she mocks now making him regret his choices. “I see you’ve been visiting our dear friend Hana pretty frequently.” while she talks she nudges him playfully with a sense of encouragement. Though her intentions joking she didn’t expect them to be true.

Maxwells face turns flush red and his joking tone turns to nerves “Did she tell you?” he asks fearful

MC’s eyes go wide as she tried to hold back hysterical laughter. “NO! But you just did!”

“Shit.” Maxwell says looking down as his best friend laughs beside him.

----

Liam quickly finds Regina in the Kings office, “Regina?” he questions taking in her stance, she was getting older everyday, the emotions of losing her husband two years ago still taking its toll on her.

Regina looks to the son she inherited with her position. “Liam, glad to see your not in the storm, I was told you went out to the stables.” she exclaims. “I was hoping I’d find you.” she offers him a smile. “The celebration, I need you to seriously rethink Olivia’s role.” she speaks not wasting a moment.

“Absolutely not.” Liam says harshly back to her not matching her smile at all. “The Neverakis Family has turned on us and that is known to the public, but the one member of that family that still stands by us has just stepped into their highest power of leadership. I will not turn on her as her mother did on us. Cordonia cannot survive war set in a weapon masonry country.”

“Liam, do not spend your life fighting for a girl you didn't choose to marry.” Regina warns sternly. Liam didn’t feel anything but friendship for Olivia, he could barely think of a time that he had. He truly questions where that remark had come from.

“Excuse me?” he protests glaring at the woman he reluctantly called mother.

“This country has lost it’s trust, not in the Nevrakis family. But in you, your brother and your father.” she explains. “Your father held three marriages in his time as King. One for love, one for lust, and one for knowledge and power.” she says knowing she was brought into this family only for her position. “Your brother went through his entire courting season lusting for a commoner. His mistakes rubbed off on you when Maxwell brought MC here. You Liam were lucky that your commoner has some sense of poise in her.”

Liam feel himself getting angry now, this wasn’t about Olivia at all. This was about MC. “What are you saying Regina, MC and I aren’t trusted by our people? Thats no secret, and I work every day to change that. And MC works even harder to prove herself, though I see she’s truly yet to prove her self to you. Trust must be shown more than one way. My people must trust their Queen and I their King but trust my strongest and most powerful allies. Such as Olivia Nevrakis.” His tone angry now, he finally has more power than The Queen Mother and he will stand by it “I’m not a boy anymore, I know the consequences my choices have from now on. I appreciate your opinion but I will not adhere to it.”

“You be careful what steps you take, if the people even think for a moment you feel something for the girl from Lythikos it will be your end. Cordonia is done with your family running a country on the ideas of sex.” she spits in return.   

[unholyhelbiglinked]

Artifice | Chapter Four

CHECK OUT THE STORY FROM THE START HERE

[A/N: Heads up, this is a bit of a backstory chapter. Nothing too extensive, but now that this is a full story, I have to backtrack a little] 

“Tienes que concentrarte en el arte, Beca” His words were sharp and laced with a hissing venom. It dripped past his tongue, picked up on every aspect of his thick accent. Each syllable was over pronounced and drawn out. His chin was held higher than his ego at this point, back against a clay wall. It was undeniably steaming from the Spanish sun that bore down on the pair.

His skin was like leather, wrinkled and worn from the countless hours spent in the whitewashed courtyard, a thick sweat forming right above the mans’ brow. He didn’t make another advance towards the young painter- the ran welt on her cheek enough to quell his movements for more than a few moments.

Beca breathed in deeply, chewing the inside of her jaw. Her ear was ringing, pulsing with her heartbeat pounding against the inside of her wrist. He had struck her before, never this hard, never with this much passion behind his movements. She clenched the graphite closer to her palm, not shifting at the black mark it created on her skin.

“vete a la mierda” She grumbled out with discontent. “You don’t think I’m trying, Christian?”

He wrinkled up his nose, making his aged features look even more so. This man, the one in front of her, was supposed to be a skilled painter. One that Beca had traveled months to follow in studies. It took another thirty days to even convince the borderline drunk to give up his seat at the tavern and pick up a pencil again. Except, he hadn’t. Not in the past four weeks.

All Christian Calderon had done so far was lecture the brunette about art styles on his rooftop garden. Something that was a bit extravagant and overlooked the city of Madrid. A beautiful view that Beca wanted to sketch the second she got a good look at the expertly crafted buildings and streetways.

Calderon had refused it, though, stating that she was under his teachings now. She placed her instrument to the paper when, and only when, he allowed it. Now was not one of those times- her back resting against the far side of the wall, a ripe apple in her hands, growing warm from the lack of storage.

“I know you’re not trying,” He let out an exasperated sigh, running his hand through his dark mane of pitch hair. “If you were attempting to see what I am to instruct, then we would not be having this conversation, and I would have had to-“

“Strike me?” She asked, toying with the sarcasm in her voice, “I got it.”

“Then tell me,” he squatted down in front of her, gently, placing his hand over hers as he pulled the apple up to her view, her midnight stare focusing hard on the piece of fruit that he had picked from the tree in a yard three blocks over. “What do you see?”

‘hungry’ hadn’t been the right answer, and neither had red. Beca was stating the obvious at this point. She had even gone as far as stepping into a few different hues of the bloody color, but all was met with a hard glare and an even harder smack to the face. Not out of ill will, out of discipline. She understood- but the taste of iron was itching at her tongue and clawing at her throat. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take of it.

“Please, young one.” His voice began to crack under the pressure. Christian hating this almost as much as she did. Hated drawing his hand back and bringing it against already irritated bone. “Tell me.”

She drew in a small breath, fingers digging into the malleable skin of the fruit. It was smooth, weighted in her palm as she spun it to the side. It was just an apple, the same thing she had seen at every bodega, hanging off of multiple oaks that reached towards the sky- and pressed its branches into the blue depths.

“I uh,” She swallowed thickly, “I see summer, I suppose.”

Beca drew back, wincing involuntarily for a strike that never made contact. He just stared, his chestnut eyes not showing any type of emotion or sign that she was right. A sign that was wrong would have been worse, however, her stance tightening.    

“Red can mean war,” She sounded out carefully, “But it can also mean love. Something that took the time to form around one tiny seed in the soil. It wasn’t instant, but it was there. It grew, and it flourished, and now it’s sitting in my hand in the warmth of a mid-day sun.”

Christian lifted his chin in the slightest of ways, rolling his shoulders back. “Take a bite.”

She was hesitant, raising the item to her lips as she stared at the gold flecks that circled the man's pupil. He didn’t’ make a move to interject, her tongue tankful for the change in taste as sweet juices dribbled off her chin and soaked into her cotton shirt. She chewed slowly, eyes darting down to the sizable dent she had made in the fruit.

“Good,” he breathed out, stare darting to the sketch pad to her side. “When you paint, La Hija, you should remember this feeling of summer, and taste of apples- because it is all you have to hold onto. All you should allow yourself to display within the lines.”

She gulped back the residual taste, staring at him with wide composure. “You want me to?”

“Draw, young one.” He nodded solemnly “make it count.”

Beca Mitchell drew in a soft breath, fingers running over the smooth edge of the apple. It was a deeper shade of crimson than she had ever seen before- grown in different soil and brought up in a different climate of the world. It would be undoubtedly sweet, tooth-rotting.

She held it up, inspecting the bruising and the slight deformed edge that it had to its shape. It wasn’t perfect, but no apple was. The weight of it making her fingers ache. The brunette had lost her train of thought a few moments ago, listening to the steady chopping that Stacie provided each time her steel knife came down on the crisped edge of the fruit.

“I lost you a few minutes ago.” The taller of the two spoke out, swiping her palm against the wooden cutting board, brushing all the juicy pieces to the side tactfully. “Thinking about anything interesting?”

“I don’t like apples,” Beca said, instead, placing it down with a look of disdain on her features.

“Ah, what an eloquent speech you have been piecing together Madame Mitchell.”

“Fuck off,” A smile found it’s way to her lips regardless, she liked the way that Stacie teased and berated her. She didn’t’ tip-toe like the rest of the staff did. They wouldn’t even meet her eyes on most occasions, going about their work just like Beca had intended to do for the past three days of near silence in this place.

However, Chloe Beale is a hard woman to track down within the walls of this estate. It had become apparent to the young artist that if she wanted to be found, she would be. There was no point in looking for a woman who had no interest in the work that was sure to take place at some point- their shared conversation by the Southern swamp was the last she had seen of the girl in forty-eight hours.

For now, she sat at the island, residing to the far corner of the place while she watched Stacie prepare what looked like an apple dessert of some kind- maybe even a pie. She wasn’t sure- she was more focused on the woman’s movements; how fluid and precise they were compared to the clunky ones of her own. Residing to the fact that she was meant to be a painter and not a cook. She had even begun to sketch a rough drawing of the woman in front of her, messy and always coated in some form of baking material.

“Good thing this thing isn’t for you,” Stacie continued her train of thought. “Unless you can get past your unnatural distaste for apples?” She cocked an eyebrow, throwing a glance Beca’s way. By the scrunched-up expression on the woman’s face, she assumed that was a no. She didn’t question the girl, instead, bringing the sharpened edge of the knife into the crisp fruit.

“Does the woman of the house have a thing for them?”

“A thing?” Stacie sounded out carefully, “I would say no. What she does carry an affinity for is my apple cake. No one can refuse it.”

“Watch me, Conrad,” Beca grumbled under her breath. She couldn’t stand the thought of that sickeningly sweet taste anymore. It was just what Christian had taught her- it wasn’t about the object, but the feeling connected to it. This feeling was laced with dread and questioning of self-worth, something her old teacher mastered in. “Speaking of which, have you seen her?”

“Not for a few days,” She lifted her shoulders up slightly. “Are you that keen on packing up your brooding attitude and heading back out to sea?”

Beca drew in a careful breath. These last couple of days had been calming, albeit, strange. She hadn’t stressed the worry of where her next meal was coming from, or how early she had to wake up to be out of quarters before the real owner returned to their storefront. It wasn’t that she didn’t miss life on the streets, and crave for even one bit of danger, because she did. But it was so quiet, and still. She was stuck in time, frozen in golden amber with her wings raised and pension building.

“Aye aye.” Beca gave her a tantalizing wink. It was easier this way, to shove everything off with a light wave of the hand instead of going into her psyche with a girl she barely knew but felt connected to. She wasn’t afraid to talk with her, to open up and share the worries that plagued her.

“And what about you?” Beca asked, not sparing much detail. “Ever see yourself sailing against the Pacific?”  

“Mm, never.” Stacie shook her head. “That’s left for my brother, a sc-all-y wag.”

Beca had to bite down a laugh at the way the leggy brunette struggled through the word. Her tongue stuck out a bit from her lips, eyes staring up at the ceiling as she tried to place her words. It wasn’t natural, almost aloof. It brought a genuine smile to the smaller woman’s features, her fingers spinning the brown stem of the apple absently.

Both women glanced up as someone new entered the kitchen, Beca’s breath catching in her throat like it was sticky, the air humid from the working ovens overtime and the streaming sun still creating a large reflective rectangle against the tile. Chloe’s hair was wet from a shower, her lavender bath soap coating her throat and lungs. It was soothing, catching.

Chloe’s wild mane of copper locks flowed over her bloused chest. An armed guard strapped to her forearm and going up past her elbow. It made her arm look a little awkward and straight- but her shoulders were pulled back in a defined way. She flicked her royal stare to Stacie.

“Is that what I think it is?” She asked, a sprouted smile on her lips. Chloe breathed in strongly, a look of bliss making Beca sit back in her seat, the stem still between her forefingers.

“Mm-hm” Stacie wiggled a bit, shoving more apple pieces to the side, Chloe’s own eyes widening with excitement.

“Seriously,” Chloe pointed a finger towards Beca “her apple cake is the best thing in the whole entire world.”

“I wouldn’t’ go that far,” She laughed “Nothing is better than sex, including this cake.”

The girl let out a huff as she reached forward, attempting to dip her finger in the buttercream icing, resting softly in a spreadable pile. It almost looked too pure, too sweet. Stacie, however, batted the girl's hand away before she got a chance. “Chlo,”

“Come on,” She groaned like a child, Beca smirking until her jaw was sore. She had only seen a poised side of the woman, the type where every little movement was overthought. She had even gotten a taste of the dangerous and daring woman who knew how to fence like no other. But not this, not a girl struggling to get a hold of sweets, just waiting to get scolded. “Stace, you expect me to wait all day?”

“That’s exactly what I expect you to do.” She snipped back, pulling the last apple from Beca’s grasp with a sparing glance. Chloe let out a discontent huff. She quickly got over it, flashing that indigo color back to Beca. It sent a wave of dissipating chills through her spine, lips parting slightly.

“Hi,” Chloe let out a long sigh, a slight smile playing at the corners of her lips.

“Hi,” Beca rolled her shoulders back pulling her arm over the edge of the chair so she could turn to face the woman more, her other hand resting on the table, a leather-clad book under her fingertips. It seemed she took it everywhere, palms coated in black charcoal.

“You need to get changed.” Chloe scanned the length of her stare over Beca, the girl in long sleeves and even longer pants- her whole body always having a bit of a chill to it despite how many layers she allowed herself to hold, Stacie cocking her head to the side.

“What? Why?” Beca held her arm out a bit, staring down at her dark clothing.

“I am going to teach you how to fence,” Chloe stated matter-of-factly.

Beca squinted her dusky eyes, “Gee that sure sounds like fun, Chloe, but I would rather take that fork and stab myself in the throat.”

Stacie drew in a careful breath, slowly pushing the metal utensil away from the small artist. Chloe crossing her arms over her chest as she elicited an amused scoff. “You want to get to know me? Well, you have to know fencing first.”

“It’s a sport with pointy things that you thrust into the air.” Beca waving her hand in the air.

“No,” Chloe took a small step forward “It’s a practice of agility and swift movements that help regulate heart rate and overall pain tolerance. Kind of like painting.” Beca raised her eyebrows, bemused. “Get changed, Picasso. Meet me in the yard in twenty.”    

[womenmyguywomen]

Out of Darkness, into His Marvellous Light

Mulder brings Scully to a weekend at Oxford. They reminisce together and realise quite how much they feel for each other.

Set in the post Millenium kiss early relationship times. Sorry if the switching between PoVs is confusing, thats just how it came out my brain. The music nerd in me had the piece Scully tears up to as Ireland's "Greater love hath no man" (listen to it, its so good, the latter half makes me want to climb a wall), which is also where I got the random title from. A good recording here: 

https://youtu.be/ojHoU00rWDk

Mulder had plenty of good memories from his time at Oxford. He had been young, if not completely carefree, and thinking of that place provided many images of peaceful afternoons spent making the most of a rare sighting of sunshine. Of the unquiely student-y buzz of mad anxiety during a late night study session in the library or the peace of a cycle back from said library in the early hours of the morning, empty streets and birds begining to sing as he finally threw in the towel on an overdue essay. Memories too of Phoebe, before their relationship turned sour. Whispered declarations and giggling kisses in halls, how playful she was. That ridiculous evening by Arthur Conan Doyle's grave, her hand in his boxers and his lip between his teeth as he tried not to cry out.

Of course, for every one of those more lighthearted memories, there were also plenty of less good ones. Late nights lying awake, no birdsong loud enough to distract him from worrying about his sister, where she was, what more he could have done to save her. Memories of how things with Pheobe turned for the worse, how mocking and how cruel she could be, taking advantage of how smitten he was, and how eager to please. 

The duality of these memories had been running through his mind these last few days, since he had recieved an invitation to an alumni weekend at his alma mater, so when Scully saw it, left out on his desk, and asked whether he was planning on going, he answered honestly that he was undecided. 

Scully remained curious about Mulder's Oxford days, always amused by ludicrous images her mind supplied of a younger Mulder, a ridiculous pile of books in hand, always dressed in romantic linen shirts and tailored trousers, like something out of a film. She had yet to ask him to actually regail her much of these times, their relationship shift to newfound intimacy was still new and she didn't know if she could handle tales of Phoebe's unkindness that would fill her with righteous anger, or perhaps worse, tales of the good times with Phoebe which would fill her with a much uglier emotion. Or, god forbid, she may discover memories of another past flame, yet another leggy brunette for Scully to toss and turn over on the nights where Mulder wasn't there. 

"I can take a plus-one" Mulder blurted out, mercifully yanking Scully from her rapidly spiralling thoughts. "Hmm?" She replied, still distracted. "I mean," began Mulder, clearly not having completely expected his previous words to come out, "it's a whole thing for two. Two person accomodation, a plus-one for the dinner-" he trailed off as he realised he was rambling, but looking into Scully's eyes and seeing only her patient smile, he felt emboldened to continue: "I'd really like it if you came with me, if you wanted to, of course." 

"That sounds lovely, Mulder"

---

The flight had been long, but peaceful, and the promise of a long weekend away from everything that had made their lives so complicated had them both in an easy, if unusual silence for much of the journey. Watching the tension melt away from each other's faces, created a virtous cycle for the two agents, as seeing one at peace bought about a new wave of serenity for the other. In the taxi from the airport to the university, they sat unnecessarily entwined, Mulder lazily pointing out landmarks of interest with Scully's hand in his. He could feel the balance of his Oxford memories shifting, difficult memories fading to make way for thousands of images of Scully's smile.

They spent the early afternoon getting ready for dinner. They both showered, to rid themselves of that lingering travel feeling and Scully set about unpacking while Mulder explored the halls, announcing that this room was two staircases down from where he had lived in second year, and that the bathroom looked almost exactly the same as his had. Scully called out to him that it sounded like it was due for a refurb. "Har de har." he replied, and went to carry on his exploration.

"This kitchen is tiny, Scully! No need to worry about me putting mugs away out of reach in here" she smiled as she heard his gleeful shout from down the hall as she hung up his shirts. New though the sex was, the domesticity had come easily to the both of them, having spent so many years looking after each other. Having said this, she still felt a thrill whenever she woke to the smell of coffee and a dopey smiling Mulder handing her a perfect brew and she knew, because he had told her often, that he would never get over waking up with her in his arms. 

Scully wore a simple black dress for the dinner, which Mulder insisted was anything but simple, and was infact, the most beautiful dress he had ever seen. She laughed at him and watched with intrigue as he took his gown and hood out of the cupboard, and set about fastening his hood to his gown and suit with a safety pin, his adorable face of concentration completing the look. Mulder noticed her curious smile and made a face "I know, it's all a bit silly, isn't it", concious of the fact that he was wearing all of this nonsense while she looked so stunning, and would no doubt be causing cardiac arrests to any elderly fellows they walked past. But, easily as ever, she allayed his insecuritys with a beaming smile and a simple comment; "Mulder, you look adorable."

They were both starting to feel rather silly from all the smiling, unused to such simple pleasures, but their smiles only continued to grow throughout the evening. Before dinner, a gong was hit and Scully found herself holding in laughter as a parade of elderly men walked in to sit at the high table, one reciting some latin before they all sat down to eat. Mulder noted her amusement and raised an eyebrow quizzically; "It's just all so surreal" she laughed "I don't want to sound like a tacky american tourist but I didnt think it would be so much like the movies". Mulder laughed "Yeah, you never really get used to it." 

The food was delicious and they made pleasent conversation with the couples sat next to them, both slightly younger than them, Mulder explained the event was for alumni from his college from any year of graduation. He noticed Scully trying to subtly scan the room, a look of slight unease on her face, and leaned in closer "She went to a different colllege, Scully. I promise I wouldn't have considered coming to this if there was a chance of having to deal with that this weekend." Scully blushed, caught out, but smiled at how well Mulder knew her, and at the small sense of victory and ownership she felt at the dismissive tone he used when referring to his ex. 

Well-fed, slightly tipsy and fairly exhausted from their journey, they returned to their room after dinner and both made a beeline for bed. Open as they were with each other, they both bemoaned a lack of energy to do anything more exciting on their first night in Oxford. From his pillow, Mulder proclaimed through a yawn that she would simply have to wear that dress again, because he couldn't live with himself if he didn't get to push it up around her hips and eat her out against a wall at least once in the dress' lifetime. Scully laughed at his wine-induced honesty and ever present obsession with her pussy and almost felt compelled to roll out of bed and put the dress back on, but his arm wrapped around her from behind, and an overwhelming sense of comfort lulled her to sleep before she had the chance.

---

"Mulder, oh my god, you're going to fall in!" Scully was squealing from within the punt as Mulder tried to remember what how to steer the thing. "Ye of little faith, Scully! I have done this quite a few times before, you know." He chose not to mention that he had indeed fallen in on one out of the five or so occasions he went puting during his degree, and had near misses on another two at least. He felt a pang of an unpleasant emotion as he wobbled and remembered the sound mocking laughter from Phoebe on his last punting outing, feelings of sogginess and shame. 

As he looked down to Scully, however, he was once again reminded how different this was. Scully looked concerned, yes, but underneath that, she was smiling. It was a broad smile she used to allow herself only when he flirted with her over the phone, safely shielded from the vulnerability she felt under his gaze. A smile he had only seen a few times up until recently, during moments of particular emotional release, when her cancer went into remission, when he finally, finally, kissed her. Since then, he'd seen it more and more, and he found himself completely, irreperably addicted. That smile said that she trusted him, that she respected him and, incredibly, that being around him made her happy, a fact that was gradually tearing down some of his long-held self hatred, replacing it with yet more love for her. He'd yet to say those words to her, new as this all was, but as he looked at her face in that punt he knew, as he had known at many points throughout the last seven years, that he loved this woman more than anything else in the world.

"We're going to crash into that wall."

"Huh?"

"Mulder, if you continue to stare at my face instead of looking where we are going, we are going to crash into that wall." Scully sounded amused and Mulder quickly recovered and quipped back; "Scully, I can't be held accountable for the hypnotic effects of your eyes." She rolled her eyes and laughed.

As Mulder got more into the rhythm of things, Scully laid back in the sun and relaxed further. They moved slowly down the river, and she alternated between closing her eyes, basking in the sun and staring up at Mulder, watching the muscles in his arms flex as he pushed the stick, the quant, he had informed her, into the riverbed. He pointed out college buildings and gave fun facts, ranging from information about the history of the university to fascinating and sometimes hilarious tidbits about the personal history of Fox Mulder. He showed her the part of the river he fell into when trying to sneak into another college to hand in an overdue piece of work at 2am, the bridge where he used to watch the fireworks after exams in June, a field by the river which had been his favourite place to walk to if his mind grew too loud to cope with in the middle of the night. She tried not to get distracted from his charming tour by the aforementioned muscles, or by his lower lip; pouted impossibly more than normal as he concentrated on not crashing when they passed other punts, or by how serene he looked with the sunlight framing him from behind. She failed.

When they had passed half of the time on their hired punt, Mulder performed an admittedly impressive 180 degree turn, and asked Scully if she'd like to have a go for the journey back to the hire station. Curious, she agreed, and after a wobbly change over, she found herself stood at the back of the punt, trying to get to grips with how to steer. Mulder talked her through it patiently and understandingly, explaining how it was counterintuitive, but that she had to move the quant (just call it a stick, Mulder) in the direction she wanted to turn. She remarked with a laugh that it was a shame his usual teaching technique would likely end up with them both in the river, and they both smiled, remembering his baseball "lesson", their first almost-date. Excusing a few moments where her ingrained sailing techniques from childhood took over and she had to remind herself to push the quant the other way, she got the hang of things pretty quickly, and she remained in control of the punt for the whole journey back.

As she looked down at her passenger, she thought about how different he was from the boys she had dated at university, content as he was to lay back and allow her to take over, not making any snarky comments when she accidentally turned them the wrong way, or feeling the need to posture his masculinity, to be the one showing off. She found his easy acceptance of her control undeniably attractive and she told him as much once they were back on solid ground, walking back to his college. "Scully, I don't think there is a single aspect of life that would be made worse by you being in control." She raised an eyebrow up at him, her smile growing, and he laughed, "Yes, incuding in the bedroom." 

"Is that so?" She questioned teasingly and he made a mental note to take her away more, to places where they didn't have to worry about being Agents Scully and Mulder, fighting the good fight and absolutely, definitely not distracted by caring for each other. "Yup." He popped the 'p' sound joyfully. "I have -uh-" He trailed off, unsure how much he wanted to give away here, his mind supplying unhelpful images of evenings spent alone on his couch in Alexandria, hand around his cock and desperate moans on his lips and he imagined Scully having her way with him, but, as ever, she helped: "Fantasised?" she prompted, and he found himself holding back a moan. 

"Jesus christ, Scully." He looked around, but they were alone, the sun was setting as they walked down the cobbled street, arm-in-arm. "Yeah, fantasised", he let out on a breath after a second, and then, suddenly overcome with the need to do so, leant down and kissed her. 

As they broke from the kiss he heard singing and he checked his watch. "5.30!" He exclaimed to her confusion. "That's a choir rehearsal for Sunday evensong, Scully. Its an anglican service, but they welcome all denominations and I think you'd really like it. It's at 6.00, we should be able to make it back in time!" She had been planning a hasty return to bed with him, but seeing his excitement, she agreed to accompany him to the chapel, the knowledge that this was something he thought she'd like making her sure it would be enjoyable.

---

As expected, the service was beautiful, Scully felt truly emotional to be in such a place with Mulder, a chapel he said he'd come to a few times during his degree, not for religous reasons per se, but to hear the music, and to feel a connection to something bigger than himself. Mulder found himself enjoying Scully's enjoyment more than anything else, straining his ears to hear her quiet singing in the congregational hymns, and feeling a swell of affection when he saw tears forming in her eyes at a particularly stunning piece of music from the choir. 

After the service, they made polite conversation with the chaplin and congratulated the choir and organist on a wonderful performance, before making their way back to their room.

"That was perfect, Mulder." She was fully huddled into his side now; the sun had set and the summer clothes she wore for punting meant that mulders arms around her offered a welcome shelter from the cool night air. "Thank you so much for bringing me." She looked up at him and he smiled impossibly wider. "I knew you'd like it." He proclaimed triumphantly, as though he'd just been proven right about one his far-fetched theories and not about the rather unshocking revelation that his religious partner would enjoy a beautiful choral religious service. She didn't understand that the truth of what made Scully tick would always be as rewarding as any other truth he could hope to find, that each time he was the cause of a smile from her, it became the new greatest revelation of his life so far.

"Seriously," she turned to look at him as they stopped to open the door to their accomodation. "Thank you, for this whole weekend, for thinking to bring me along and for sharing all of this with me, its been magical." Mulder chuckled slightly and replied "Scully, of course I thought to bring you along, I had all but decided against coming unless I could pluck up the courage to ask you to come with me, I wouldn't want to do this with anyone else." And then, to diffuse the tension he added, self-depricatingly; "Besides, can you imagine how depressing this would have been if I was alone?" Scully was struck then with the tragic, if ridiculous, images of Mulder going through this weekend alone; safety pinning his hood alone in his room, sat alone at dinner, in a punt alone, always with those green eyes awash with tears and his beautiful mouth downturned in a sad little frown. The mental images were stupid; Mulder wouldn't have gone punting if he'd been here alone, and that look, that sad puppy look as she had come to think of it, was very rarely seen by anyone, let alone strangers at a dinner. It was a look she herself had only caught glimpses of when he hadn't quite got around to rearranging his features from how they had been in her embrace, his face over her shoulder or buried in her stomach where he felt safe to let it all out. It was a look that never failed to break her heart a little bit.

"God, you make me want to protect you." She let out, not entirely intentionally as they stepped into the room. He laughed at that, closing the door behind them and let out a slightly incredulous "What?" She replied, completely serious "Mulder, you have a tendency to look like a wounded puppy when you're sad-" he was fully laughing now "- and it always makes me want to hold you tight and tell you it'll all be ok." His laughter died down as he looked into her eyes and saw how much she meant what she was saying "I want to wrap you up in my arms, to stick to your side and stay there until you finally believe I'm never going to leave you." 

"Then do that." he whispered, letting himself be vulnerable for her, just her, in the safety of this little room. "What do you think I've been doing these last seven years?" She smiled softly.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he thought of all the time they'd spent together, of everthing she'd stuck with him through. "I love you, Scully."

"I know."

"You know?" he was slighly taken aback as she nodded with her same patient smile. "How long have you known?"

"Since the cancer." They were both whispering now, as though talking any louder would break the fragile agreement they seemed to have made to finally be honest about the way they felt this evening. He looked confused as he replied "But why didn't we- we could have been- that was so long ago" he finally got out, thinking of all the missed time, time he could have spent kissing Scully, loving Scully.

"I was scared, Mulder. I've never been good at letting myself love and be loved. And just when I had worked everything out and I was finally ready,-" she cut off there. She didn't need to say it, they both knew what, or who she was referencing and another unspoken agreement seemed to have formed that they wouldn't say her name, a stubborn rebellion or bold promise that Diana wouldn't spoil this thing that they had, this wonderful thing they had finally found.

Still, he felt the need to say something "I'm sorry, Scully. I'm sorry that I ever made you doubt it, how much I loved you, how much I am and have always been yours."

"Mine." Was all she replied as she pulled him down to kiss her. "Mine." it came out lower in pitch as she pushed him down to sit at the side of the bed and kissed him harder, a knee on either side of his legs. He moaned into the kiss as she pulled his hair, and he remembered their conversation from earlier. Oh yeah, Scully in control was a very good thing.

Moving away from his lips, she kissed and bit up his jaw as his breathing became uneven. "Shirt off, Mulder." She whispered directly into his ear and he found himself taking off his shirt, without even really conciously deciding to do so. At her request, his shoes and socks were miraculously also off and kicked across the room. She pushed him to lie down on the bed and straddled his stomach, biting at his collarbones as her fingers played with his nipples. He noticed that his hips were moving under her, at the same time also noticing quite how uncomfortable his jeans had become. Mercifully, at that point she asked "Would you like to lose the jeans, Mulder?" He nodded almost comically fast and, on a laugh she said "Go on, then". After the most frantic jean removal he'd ever performed, he found himself dimly remembering the pscyhology lectures he had attended here on neuronal plasticity. He wondered what his professors would have to say about the idea of his brain developing a Scully pathway, bypassing any normal mental processes. If it makes Scully happy, he does it, all other brain function be damned. He thought they'd probably tell him that was ridiculous, and then her hand was in his boxers, pulling his cock out, and he stopped thinking at all.

"Scully, please." He whined. He was whining already, but he couldn't bring himself to care. "Please what, baby?" He let out a truly embarassing sound at the use of the pet name, alongside her hand tightening around him, but he realised he certainly couldn't care less about the sounds he was making, not when they resulted in a look in Scully's eyes that could only reasonably be described as ravenous.

"Please, Scully, I'm not- it's too much" He was panting, and he closed his eyes tightly to try to cope with the pleasure he was feeling. "Aw, baby" Oh god not that tone. "Poor Mulder, can't cope can you?" Absolutely not, no "Scully-" with one last little squeeze, she let go of his cock and he sighed gratefully. He opened his eyes again, no longer feeling immediate panic at the idea of going off early and was met with a Scully grin. Not the same patient, calm, joyous smile that he'd seen so many times that weekend, but a wide grin, full of mischief. He couldn't remember seeing it before, but he got the distinct impression that it was a sight that would forever more be accompanied by a general feeling of "oh my god, this woman is going to kill me" and he found himself enamoured with it.

She moved down his stomach, and positioned her entrance over his obscenely hard erection, rocking back and forward against it as he whimpered. His eyes clamped shut again and, as she reached down to take hold of his cock, slowly sinking down onto it with a quiet moan, she also leaned down to bite his irresistable bottom lip. His hands were twisting in the sheets beneath them as he began to let out low, desperate moans. "Look at me." She said against his lips, and his eyes opened, his brain's Scully pathway working as intended. She sat up and began to ride him harder and more quickly and his head tipped back, his moans increasing in frequency. Her Mulder was absolutely wrecked, and she never wanted to stop seeing him like this. She noted to herself that she would have to ask him what else he fantasised about, to recreate those as well, if this was what the result would be. 

Scully knew she wasn't going to be able to finish before him, as Mulder looked to already be having considerable difficulty holding back and, while she was certainly enjoying herself, she wasn't close yet. "Its OK Mulder," She said, more gently than her previous statements. "I want to watch you come." At that, a louder moan came from Mulder, and she noticed his hips had started making little thrusts up to meet her. "Are you going to come for me?" A clearly ridiculous question, to which they both knew the answer, but which also seemed to drive Mulder completely insane as he nodded and moaned out "Yes- yes Scully, yes, please, yes, Scully-" Oh wow, he was completely gone, and she was addicted. His hands moved to her hips, holding on and trying to thrust up into her, but she couldn't have that, so she grabbed them and pushed pushed them back down into the matress by his wrists. The sound that he let out in response to that convinced her that maybe, that was exactlly what he had been hoping for. The whine that he let out when she informed him of her suspicion made her certain.

As she looked up at his face and saw the tension there, his eyebrows knitted together, she knew he didn't have long left. "So beautiful beneath me, baby." a moan from Mulder, she continued; "All whiney and desperate, aren't you, Agent Mulder?" And she hadn't really meant for his title to come out like that but suddenly Mulder was practically roaring as his back arched and he came into her. Scully hadn't been lying when she said she wanted to watch him come. While they had had plenty of sex since their relationship began, his focus on her pleasure meant that, during this moment, she was often either mid-orgasm, or recovering from one and as such, rather distracted. Free to fully focus on the sight before her now, she attempted to commit it all to memory. His eyes, still open, apparently trying very hard to follow her earlier instruction, seemed impossibly wide as though shocked by the pleasure she was causing in him. His mouth hanged open as his primal roar turned slowly to a whine as his orgasm stretched out. His chest was flushed and heaving with heavy breaths, his eyebrows were pinched together, his neck, his thighs, his shoulders all tensed, then relaxed as she moved off him. She had never seen him so relaxed as the few seconds after he came until- "Scully? You didn't come." 

"That's alright Mulder," she smiled "I promise I had plenty of fun" she really did. "But I want you to come, Scully." He sounded almost petulant and she giggled. "Mudler I don't think you could move a single muscle in order to achieve that right now." She remarked as she looked down at his spent form, with a not insignificnant swell of pride at what she'd reduced him to. "I think you'll finding I'm moving the only muscle I need, right now" he responded with a cocky smile, before sticking his tongue out and wiggling it about a bit, to make sure she understood. "Oh really?" she began to move up his body and he let out a pleased hum "Sit on my face, baby" he winked and she laughed at her stupid, stupid, sexy man.

As she lowered her sex to his lips, he reached up and eagerly closed the distance, resulting in a surprised moan from Scully as he licked through her folds. "God, you're wet" he mumbled into her and she realised this really wasn't going to take long, watching him come had done a lot for her. She thought briefly again of the differences between mudler and her college boyfriends, who often came before her, apologised half-heartedly and quickly dozed off, not even considering doing anything about it. Boyfriends who wouldn't have dreamed of letting her sit on their faces. She laughed as she thought of how Mulder had responded when she asked if he'd let her. "Let you?" he'd said with wide eyes and a huge dopey smile on his face and she'd laughed. He'd only repeated that phrase "Let you?" growing louder more and more incredulous until she stopped him and replied "I guess thats a yes". She'd squirted for the first time that night.

At the sound of her laughter, Mulder briefly stopped his movements and asked what was so funny. She explained what she was thinking about and he responded with a raised eyebrow "You're thinking about your college boyfriends when my tongue is in your pussy?" She didn't get a chance to reply that no, she was thinking about how much better than them he was, before he honest-to-god growled and took her clit into his mouth. Her moans became higher in pitch and got louder as he sucked on her clit, flicking his tongue across it until she came with a shout of his name. 

Spent, she flopped down next to him on the bed and leaned over to turn off the light, before returning to lying down on her back. He moved in for a cuddle, one of his arms and one of his legs draped over her and his head on her chest. Her arms moved down to hold him; it seems appropriate that she be cradling him, protecting him tonight just like she'd admitted she always wanted to. 

Exhausted from the weekend and tonights excursions, in the dark of the room, the emotions flowed with ease.

A yawned murmur: "Goodnight Scully, I love you."

A tentative whisper, but the strongest words he'd ever heard: "I love you too."

[elizabethsaige]

“My shower’s broken but I’ve got a date tonight could I possibly use your shower please?” “Oh sure (neighbour that I’ve been crushing on for the past six months) of course you can use my shower to get ready for your date (fuck fuck fuck)” with whatever ship you like, lmao go crazy my dude

If you know Beca, like at all, you would know that most of her time is spent in her little apartment, usually working on mixes and trying to avoid human interaction. It’s not that she didn’t like people, she just can’t handle them most of the time.

Well, except for a certain someone.

A tall, leggy brunette that happened to live three apartments down from Beca was another story. Needless to say, Beca was pretty much in love with this girl. The only problem is, the two have only talked maybe two times since she’s moved in.

This girl, Emily, was just so adorable and oh so beautiful, and usually, Beca doesn’t go for girls like her, but there’s just something about the way that Emily smiles that makes Beca weak at the knees, oh boy.

Both times that the girls had interacted, Beca was an awkward mess. She doesn’t know if it was Emily’s beauty or that fact that a girl like Emily was talking to her that was throwing Beca off of her game, but man, she couldn’t get a word out without stuttering. Emily found it quite funny though.

A knock at the front door interrupted Beca’s thoughts. She was quite confused as to who would be knocking on her door on a Saturday night. She slowly made her way to the front, unlocked the latch and opened the door.

Oh, speak of the devil.

A flustered Emily stood in the doorway with a towel around her naked body and a book bag in her hands.

“Uh, hi?” Beca looked at the young girl, trying to keep her eyes on Emily’s, avoiding anything below the girl’s face.

“Beca! I’m so glad you answered your door,” Emily exclaimed. She seemed stressed.

Beca nodded slowly, a slight frown appearing on her forehead. “Yeah,  um, what can I do for you?” The tall girl sighed heavily and walked into Beca’s apartment without permission, but of course, Beca didn’t care.

“Well, my power went off in my apartment, and along with that, my shower broke. The landlord said he can’t fix it until Monday. Do you think maybe I could use your shower and get ready here?”

Beca stared at the tall girl, not paying attention to anything she was saying. All she could think about was that Emily was standing in her apartment…in nothing but a towel.

Beca, focus.

“Um, yeah s-sure. That’s fine,” Beca stuttered as she ran her fingers through her hair.

“Really? Thank you so much, I totally owe you one,” Emily said frantically with a smile on her face. Beca nodded and smiled back, and within seconds, Emily was off to the bathroom.

//

“So, what are you getting ready for?”

Emily looked up from her mirror to find Beca standing in the doorway of the bathroom.

“Oh! It’s a date. My friend set me up with this girl, and I’m totally nervous about it,” Emily explained.

The small girl nodded slowly, carefully watching Emily as she applied her eyeshadow. It was kind of fascinating. Beca was never really great at doing her makeup, and the tall girl made it look so easy.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. Where are you guys going?” She didn’t mean to pry, but Beca couldn’t help herself. The girl she liked was going on a date with someone else, of course she wanted to know everything about the evening.

“I think she said something about a carnival. Honestly, I don’t even want to go on this date,” Emily said as she put all of her makeup back in her bag, “I only agreed to it because my friend was so excited about it.”

“Yikes, that sounds horrible, going on a date just to make your friend happy. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t even go. Screw that.” Emily giggled.

“I wish I could do that; I’d rather do anything but this tonight.” Emily looked into Beca’s eyes. The small girl was wearing an empathic smile. The two stood, staring into each other’s eyes, Beca glancing at Emily’s lips every so often.

Emily broke her gaze with Beca, clearing her throat. “Um, I just gonna get changed now,” She whispered. Beca nodded and closed the door behind her as she walked out of the bathroom.

What the fuck was that?

//

“Thanks again for letting me get ready here,” Emily spoke as Beca walked her to the door.

“No worries. You look really nice. Whoever this girl is, she’s really lucky.” Emily smiled.

“Thank you, Beca. Maybe we can hang out sometime, you know, properly. We could get some coffee or something?”

The small girl broke out into a smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d really like that.” Beca proceeded to open the door and watched as Emily stepped out of her apartment. The tall girl turned to take one last look at Beca, shooting her a wink as she started down the hallway.

“Good luck!” Beca shut her door, biting her lip to keep from smiling like a big idiot. Did that really just happen?

[imnotasuperhero]

DAY 5 of PP Rare Pair Week 2018 is here!!

I hope you all enjoy this little something I did. Stemily was sooooo cute for me. Who knows what could continue this ;)

Pairing: Stemily

Theme: High School AU

Type: Fluff

Summary: Emily was the best of both worlds. A hot athlete and a fucking nerd. Stacie would be a shame if she wasted the chance.

Wordcount: 1028

Her heart was trying to get out of her chest and her whole body started to hurt. Taking a look at her phone, she decided to call it for the day.

'You should polish your moves, Stace' she could hear Megan's voice in her head. Even after she had improved the damn jump-split, she still felt it wasn't enough. If only she was a few inches shorter...

"You have to be kidding me" a whisper-like voice came from her right. Looking up, she saw her standing still. Emily, her sweet beautiful Emily, was staring at a bicycle - more like a unicycle now - with tears forming in her eyes.

"What happened?" She asked frowning as she made her way to the young brunette.

"Some asshole took one of my bike's wheels" she sighed. Hands flying to her eyes in an attempt to cover her face. "I'm so tired of this shit" and Stacie's heart broke at the sight. She didn't deserve any of this.

"Come on, Emily. Let me-"

"I... I didn't tell you my name?" Emily cut her. Confusion clear in her features.

"No need to. We have Chem together and you're one hell of a smartass" Stacie smiled proudly. "I'm Stacie, by the way"

"Thanks?" She could see Emily's blush. "It's just... You're a cheerleader" her words came whispered.

"Yeah... Well, I'm a cheerleader and a nerd myself. So I kind of get you" she shrugged it off. "Come on, let me take you home"

Emily just stared at her extended hand as if analyzing the out turns but accepted after a few moments. "Can I..." she motioned to her bike, clearly not wanting to leave it.

"Oh... I'm on my motorcycle" Stacie cursed herself. If she only picked the car instead.

"Oh, there's no problem. I'll just call my mom" the younger girl took her phone.

"So, what were you doing at school this late?" she asked after Emily ended the call and sat beside her.

"I have this huge ass math exam and with volleyball and all I just can't find the time at home," she explained calmly. "You?"

"I bet you'll kick that exam's ass" Stacie sent her a supportive smile. "I was practicing some moves. Being this tall doesn't help that much, you know?" and oh sweet lord, did she loved Emily's laugh. Something she didn't know she needs till this exact moment.

Both girls enjoyed each other's company. Bonding over some things and arguing about other. The fact that both of them were literal nerds didn't help their differences. Yet, they managed to keep it calm and even joke about it sometimes.

Emily listened intently to whatever Stacie said. The passion the other girl spoke with, made her smile.

Her ride home was full of questions about her bullies, though she tried to give the less information she could since her mom could drag them down with just a call. Perks of being a lawyer -as her mom said.

"So, you're stuck with your mom's carpool till you get a new bike?" Benji asked as he approached her locker.

"Yeah. Sometimes I wonder what did I do in my past life to deserve this karma" Emily shrugged as she got her books.

Just as the bell rang to inform the student body of a new day of school, someone ran past them, bumping against her shoulder, hard.

"Sorry, Em!" Stacie called looking back. "Hi Benji" she greeted him too before disappearing through the mass of moving bodies.

"Do you know her?" Benji asked raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah" they started to walk to their first class together. "She stayed with me last night till my mom came to pick me up"

"See? I told you she was nice" he sat at his desk, earning a muffled hum.

Her day's lessons were pretty easy for her, so she spent most of the time daydreaming about a certain leggy brunette. After all, yesterday turned on her favor, for once.

What she didn't expect was for Stacie to grab her wrist making her stop.

"Do you want to have lunch with me?" She asked her in a pleading tone. "Please, don't make me face Aubrey's rant about her current project"

"You know she's my cousin, right? I don't want to hear it either" Emily just could shudder at the handful Aubrey could be sometimes when Arts were involved.

"No. We'll get lunch outside. I have the perfect spot" she practically dragged her. Something she didn't want to fight.

Yep, she was falling for her apparently, new friend. The current smiles Stacie sent her during class had become her favorite thing. That's how she knew she was screwed. She was screwed and she didn't want it any other way.

"You know... I have the perfect idea for your teammates to stop bullying you" Stacie spoke breaking the comfortable silence.

"Oh yeah? What's it?" and Emily regretted to look at her at that moment. Her faces were closer than before, her hands started to sweat at the sudden wonder of the taste of those lips. She could help but to feel the need try them and put an answer to that question.

"Go on a date with me" she proposed wiggling her eyebrows. And Emily's heart jumping on her chest.

"I'd like that" she nodded shyly. "But how that would help me get rid of them?" Her brow frowning.

"Coming from a straight A's student, you can be very dumb sometimes" Stacie rolled her eyes. "It's basic maths. You get rid of them without stop being this cute shiny nerdy athlete chick and I get to know you better and, if the chance is given, we can be more than friends" she spoke seriously. Confidence taking over her slender body.

"You really want to date me?" Emily couldn't believe what Stacie was saying. She knew she was good-looking and all, but she wasn't sure of relationships per se.

"If you want to, that's it" the older brunette waved her hand as if it wasn't something important. "I like you"

And yes. She was sure that Stacie would be the death of her. And no. She would regret nothing.

[mascaracoffee]

Mistletoe ~Sonny Carisi Imagine~

Summary: Sonny invites his partner, Calleigh, to his Carisi family Christmas when the pair get caught under the mistletoe.

Author’s Note: Something I just threw together for Christmas, not crazy about it but I hope yall enjoy! Merry Christmas!!

. Christmas Eve at the Carisi household was just as I expected. Sonny’s mother, Marion, had every visible inch covered in some sort of twinkling lights, garland, or some reindeer or Santa figurine to greet you cheerily. The two story Staten island house was brooding with what was left of the mouthwatering turkey and the sweet aroma of nutmeg.  But most of all, the Carisi household was loud. 

Over the sound of Christmas carols playing from the radio in the kitchen mixed with the Staten islands accents, Sonny’s nieces Clara, Arabella, and Mia all sat watching Elf in the living room, their mother Gina organizing the small table of treats and desserts while the three generation of Carisi men sat telling old police stories.

I retreated from the kitchen after Marion shooed me out claiming I was the guest and should not bother to lift a finger to help, much to my dismay.  Sonny shot me an ‘I told you so’ smile before returning to his conversation with his father, grandfather and bother-in-laws. 

 I made myself comfortable at the floor beside Bella who was burping her daughter, Sophia. We talked casually, mostly fawning over the small dark haired girl in her arms. “It’s amazing to think Gina’s on baby four” Bella nodded to her sister “I swear she mixes fertilizer in her coffee every morning to give her ovaries an extra kick. ”

I chuckled watching as Gina attempted to talk to her sister Teresa who was busy tapping away on her cell phone.  I glanced at Bella in curiosity.

“Apparently she’s talking to a stockbroker this week.”   She added an eye roll for effect.“So” Bella began, adjusting Sophia in her lap. 

“You and my brother, what’s going on there?”I felt my face flush as I reached for my glass of wine that had been left abandoned on the coffee table from earlier. She was biting her lip and waiting patiently a look of giddiness on her face.

 Bella and I had gotten close when a case involved her fiancé Tommy and his parole officer. We had remained close since then.

“We’re just good friends Bell. We’re around each other all the time since we work together let alone he’s my partner.” I tipped my glass back tacking hearty slugs of the wine.  God had the room gotten hotter?

Bella gave me a knowing look as she stifled a laugh. “He’s had partners before Calleigh. Never has he brought one to family Christmas.”

I turned my body toward Bella “Well none of them were single with no family this side of the country.” I countered.The blonde pulled her mouth in to a tight thin line before sitting back seemingly defeated. I smiled triumphantly and turned back to watch the rest of the movie with the girls. 

“None of them were cute leggy brunette’s either.” Bella whispered lowly in my ear.I gaped at her and slapped at her leg as she giggled.

I brought my knees up and rested my face on them with my arms crossed only my eyes peeking over the arms of my maroon sweater to hide the color of my cheeks.

  Sonny Carisi and I were close, probably closer than NYPD would like actually. Maybe it was the endless late night talks we would have over cannoli’s or him being sure to bring me a piping hot coffee on his way in to work or how we would help each other study, him for law school me for my psychology degree. As partners we spent a lot of time together and I soon found myself starting to fall for the Italian New Yorker, although, I didn’t realize it until an unfortunate case where Sonny was held at gunpoint on a roof. 

 Once Finn had gunned down the perp I ran and threw myself at my partner only then realizing tears had been flowing down my face. As Sonny’s blue eyes met my grey ones no words were exchanged but I knew I had fallen, hard for my partner.

“Oh brother dear” a voice snapped me from my thoughts as Teresa stood at the entrance of the living room, speaking in an overly cheery voice “didn’t you bring more wine?” she shook her empty wine class for effect. Suddenly, I remembered the three bags of assorted wine in the trunk of the car, I meant to grab it but my hands were full with my overnight bag and helping Sonny bring in his abundance of Christmas presents. 

“Ill get it!” I offered standing up and grabbing my coat from the back of the couch.

“That’s ok doll. I got it under control” Sonny argued standing up and stretching his lanky form.

“No, Sonny really it’s the least I can do!” I countered heading toward the foyer as I zipped my coat.

“Cal its freezing” Sonny piped in grabbing my arm at the threshold that separated the foyer and the living room. “I’m not having you go out into that!”

“Sonny” I whined “you don’t think the academy prepared me for a mad dash in freezing cold temp for wine 20 yards away. Please I mastered that in college.”  I winked. 

We continued to bicker for a few moments as Marion entered smiling softly as she watched us. Arabella stood and yanked at her grandmother’s shirt 

“Gran look!”

The young girl’s observation caused Sonny to stop and follow the little girls gaze and pointed finger above us.

“Wha-“

 My gaze followed Sonny’s , perhaps staying a little longer on his strong jaw then cheek bones and lingering at his lengthy eyelashes before taking in the vegetation that hung above us. I sucked in a sharp breath as I recognized the green leaves and small white buds held in place by an immaculate red ribbon.

“Oh! We got you two under the mistletoe!” Marion chimed delighted “Let me grab the camera!”

Air seemed to liquefy in my lungs as I met Sonny’s gaze. There was a mix of emotion in his eyes as he began to shuffle nervously rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Cal” he whispered softly “we don’t have to do this. If it makes you uncomfortable..”

I finally found my voice and gave a soft chuckle “And disappoint the kids?” I cocked my heard towards the three little girls. Sonny glanced over and realized that his nieces, as well as the rest of his family were looking at us expectantly.

“Go on Dominick” Sonny’s grandpa chided “Show him what us Carisi men can do!”

I felt my blush burn my cheeks that matched Sonny’s cheeks and ears. He puffed up his cheeks and breathed out seeming to be giving himself a pep-talk as he cupped the side of my face. My heart began to quicken, pumping loudly in my ears, bringing an exciting heat to the tips of my toes as Sonny’s lips came closer and closer.

His lips brushed the corner of my lips as light as a whisper before pulling away. Disappointment fell into the pit of my stomach like a boulder and I hoped that it wasn’t obvious on the outside. Marion and Bella held a similar face of contentment, as the girls giggled. Sonny’s grandpa and father both huffed asking each other who taught Sonny how to kiss.

  I cleared my throat and tucked my hair behind my ear “I’m uh-gonna go get the wine”After a few more hours of socializing and desserts it was time for the kids to go to bed.  After helping herd the girls to the basement that had been converted t an extra bedroom/theater I stayed with them to watch Polar Express until I was sure the three were asleep snuggled together on the blow up mattresses with their sleeping bags and abundance of pillows.

 After changing into my leggings and NYPD oversized shirt I curled up into the spare bed in the room. I sighed resting on my back and staring out the window as the snow came down heavier and heavier.My mind began to fill with thoughts and possibilities. Would that kiss effect mine and Sonny’s friendship? We hadn’t talked much but short one-word sentences since the being caught under the mistletoe and I worried it would be the end of our friendship. What if Sonny didn’t like me as anything more than a friend? What if he regretted inviting me to spend Christmas with his family? What if he no longer wanted to be my partner? What if the whole thing made him uncomfortable? What if-

I felt a touch on my shoulder and my body jerked in response reaching for the gun that was normally tucked under my pillow only to feel cool sheets and my eyes met Sonny’s. 

“Woah easy sparky. It’s me.”

“What the hell Sonny? Its..” I paused when I realized the clock that was beside me was blank.

“It snowed heavier than we thought knocked the power out. Pop’s starting the generator but we only got enough to heat one floor. So you’re bunking with me.”

I nodded pulling the covers back and shivering as I felt just how much the temperature had dropped. Sonny stopped by the three little girls and picked up Clara and Arabella, the little girls stayed sound asleep wrapping her arms around Sonny’s neck I did the same with Mia as we tiptoed through the ice cube of a house to the second floor helping Gina and her husband set the little girls up on the floor of her old childhood room.

 She smiled thankfully, hand supporting her baby bump before bidding us goodnight. Sonny led me to his childhood room and I couldn’t help but smile as I looked around wrapping my arms around myself to conserve warmth. There were numerous NYPD posters and news articles framed along with a rosary hanging from his dresser mirror.  

“Alright I think I got us set up for the night” Sonny spoke I turned to look and noticed he had pulled more blankets out for the full size bed 

“Sorry but we’re gonna have to share or I can take the floor.”

“Don’t be silly Sonny besides we could both use the body heat” I smiled as I took in his appearance flannel sleep pants hung low on his hips and a Fordham law Tshirt over his torso. His usually perfectly coifed hair, messy and curling on the ends. We both climbed into bed and I couldn’t help myself from wrapping my arms around his chest and curling up to him.

“you’re incredibly warm” I mumbled inhaling his cologne with the slight hint of mint that lingered from both his gum and toothpaste.

“Comfortable?” The rumble that vibrated through his chest was harmonizing as I nodded. Sonny’s fingers began to swirl slowly into skin having slipped under the hem of my t-shirt.

“It’s like when we had to go undercover as a couple. Remember I told you, I take care of my partner” 

Partner.

That’s all I would ever be. 

 “Yeah.” I swallowed thick, managing to keep my voice even. “Thanks for that and for inviting me.”

 “No problem Cal” I could hear the smile in his voice, I felt a warm softness brush against my cheek, Almost nonexistent like the feeling of a warm Spring wind.

“Night doll”I slipped into sleep a lot quicker than I expected to wrapped up in Sonny’s arms with his heart beating soundly in my ear, his cologne lulling my senses into a relaxed state. In the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but think how nice it would be to fall asleep like this every night. 

  “Merry Christmas doll”

 “mm” I grumbled burying my head further into the warmth. I heard a hearty chuckle. 

“No sense in hiding doll face the girls will be up in a few to open presents.”I peeked up at the blonde New Yorker with heavy hooded lids, still not seemingly impressed at the early hour.“I’ll make you coffee” My body jerked up at the sound of caffeine and I dug through my bag to start looking presentable. Sonny chuckled behind me before emerging from the warm cocoon.  

After washing my face and brushing my teeth I pulled a sweater on over my tshirt. I pulled up the top half of my hair and began twisting it into a top knot leaving the other half down my shoulders.Sonny appeared behind me and wrapped his arms securely around my waist hugging me from behind.

 “Merry Christmas Caleigh. I’m glad you’re here”

“Me too.”

We shared a smile through the mirror, Sonny’s arms giving my waist another squeeze.  A third feather light kiss was placed on my cheek. Third time was the charm right? I quickly swallowed down any doubt.

“We really need to work on your aim” I said absentmindedly adding a touch of eyeliner and mascara.

Sonny turned away from making his to give me a questioning look. “My aim?”

“Yeah” I confirmed turning back toward him and leaning back against the dresser nonchalantly “That’s the third time you’ve missed.”

Sonny’s eyebrows were furrowed together in confusion as he looked at me clearly confused. Here goes nothing.

 I took a good step forward, my eyes locked with Sonny’s. My hand gently cupped the back of his neck bringing his head down lower to mine finally connecting our lips. Sonny quickly responded wrapping an arm around my waist and cupping the side of my face softly. He tilted his head deepening the kiss. My tongue slipped out gently swiping at him bottom lip.  Sonny groaned giving me access as our tongues explored one another. 

“Sonny, Caleigh come on down and lets see what Santa brought!” Gina’s voice echoed loud through the second floor followed by excited giggles. We pulled away, our lips still only a breath apart and our eyes still focused on one another.“We’ll be down in a minute” Sonny responded back to his sister before cracking a typical Carisi grin at me 

“I guess I’ve been a good boy this year” he pecked my lips once more. “but if we keep this up doll” he took a haughty breath, his voice deepening “I’ll definitely wind up on the naughty list.”

I smiled a deep blush burning my cheeks before pressing my lips to his once more.

“Merry Christmas Dominick” 

[kingsmanstories]

Just Like I Was

THREE

Pairing: Eggsy Unwin x Reader Warnings: swearing A/N: Part three! Feedback and recommendations are always welcome.  PART ONE | PART TWO

As you walked into the awfully clinical looking room, all eyes fell on you. You was definitely out of place here. Stood before you were twelve well dressed, well groomed ladies and gentlemen, who definitely didn't get bailed out of a prison sentence that morning.

Before you even had a chance to say anything, the leggy Scotsman had entered the room. “Fall in.” he announced.

Having no clue what that meant at all, you quickly followed the others into a huddle in the middle of the room. Maybe this was going to be much more difficult than you thought.

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, my name is Merlin. You are about to embark...on what is probably the most dangerous job interview in the world. One of you, and only one of you, will become the next Bedivere,” he said, clearing his throat before moving on. This seemed so surreal, you glanced at the candidates beside you, before laying your eyes back on the Quartermaster. He picked up a khaki bag on one of the beds. “Who can tell me what this is?”

A keen young woman stuck her hand up, and Merlin nodded at him to answer. “It’s a body bag, sir.” 

“Correct. Beatrice, isn't it?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

“Good work.” He gave her a small nod before moving on. “I’ll leave you to fill in the details on the form. It requires your name, your next of kin’s name, your blood type, and your next of kins details. We will reconvene for your first task.” he said. “Fall out.” And with that, he left the room. 

You barely had time to choose your bed before a figure approached you.

“Where did they dig you up from?” A woman scoffed as her eyes scanned you from head to toe. Her brunette hair was tied in a neat bun, and she wore tapered trousers with long boots and a tweed jacket and white blouse. It was the same woman who answered Merlin’s question. This seemed to be the general outfit choice of almost everyone in the room. Here you was, again, in last nights dress.

You gathered they were her friends around her that chuckled at her reaction, and you raised your eyebrows. “Th’ fuck d’you think you’re talking to, sunshine?” you quipped, leaning to one side with your arms folded. “It’s none of your business who brought me here.” 

“She’s is only joking, aren't you, Beatrice?” One of the other girls said, holding out her hand which you ignored. “Isabelle.” she said.

“Y/N.”

Isabelle gestured to the third girl, who had a smug smile. “Y/N, Harper. Harper, Y/N.” 

“Nice, leave me alone, will y’?” you huffed, walking over to one of the beds, scribbling down the details onto the form enclosed in the body bag. Until now, you didn’t really know what you was in for.  

The girls seemed to follow you, and you groaned. “Yeah?” you said as you looked up at them. Great, more posh gits, you thought. 

“Nice dress, where did you get it? I’m sure it took a lot of your dole money saved up to get it.” Beatrice said, with a smirk on her features. That was low, even for her.

You rose to your feet and opened your mouth to speak, but somebody beat you to it. A lad around the same age as you stood at your side, arms folded over his chest. “Beatrice, fuck off.”

“How nice, you have a little friend.”

“I said, fuck off.”

The brunette huffed, before following her friends to choose a bed. The man beside you turned to shake your hand, and you obliged this time. “Edward, but call me Ed.” he introduced, sending a polite smile your way.

“Y/N.” you said, giving a small smile in return. If you had one person fighting your corner, this would’t be as bad as you thought.

Eggsy watched from the surveillance room. He hadn’t noticed his hands were balled into fists until he sighed a breath of relief when someone intervened before you caused serious damage to that brat and lost your place. He was definitely relieved that you had someone on your side, at least. Just like he did with Roxy.

He found himself glued to the screen, unable to take his eyes off you. Something about you caught his eye, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. 

Nerves built up inside him as he saw the candidates getting ready for their first night at Kingsman. Still, he didn’t take his eyes off you. He knew exactly what you was about to endure. He was worried about you, you was his candidate, of course.

However, he knew you was a lot more intelligent than what you made yourself out to be.