#*ungodly elephant noises*

[jacksoldsideblog]

I'm completely and utterly obsessed with these btw. Whenever I see them I'm struck with ungodly levels of compassion. The pictures don't do them justice you need to see them stomping and jumping and making distressed noises because they're upset they got mold on their rocky elephant feet :( and you get to help them so they can settle down like a cat or dog :(

[thegreatarlecchina]

pspspspspsps tell me about your star palace ocs please

*ungodly gremlin noises* WHO SUMMONS ME!?!

But for real tho, thanks for asking! I currently have four Star Palace OCs, two of which are robots. For brevity’s sake I’ll only discuss the robots right now, but let me know if you wanna see more!

First up, my first and oldest robotic SP Oc, Nill! Nill is a love bot that comes from the same manufacturer as Zavy, and is in fact the same model as well! (Without the modifications of course) Since he is a domestic love-bot, he stands at about 6’7ft tall and only has one set of arms. He was given to a rich exec during a white elephant Christmas party as a gag gift, and since then he’s been tossed around between abusive owners. He was often labeled as “defective” because he doesn’t enjoy sexual intimacy, and after he had finally had enough of his last owner, he decided to run away. He’s currently on the lamb, never staying in one place for too long for fear of getting dismantled, or worse…sent back. Eventually though, he gets caught sneaking around the backrooms of Star Palace by none other than Mirage. Unfortunately, nobody believes them for the time being, the employees and other bots believe Nill is just another figment of Mirage’s wild imagination. And Nill doesn’t mind milking that.

Next up, Zari Safari, or as she’s known in Star Palace, Madam Zahra! Zari Safari was the mascot and tour guide for a very popular Zoo, programmed with extensive facts about all kinds of animals. She is a falconer, zoologist, zookeeper, entomologist, and much more! However after her mascot was phased out. She was then renamed, re-wigged, and shipped to Star Palace. There, she preforms as a singer, acrobat, and aerial silkist under the name Madam Zahra. Her old programming surprisingly wasn’t scrapped due to how intensely it was woven into her memories, completely wiping her would result in an awkward boot up. Zari is a curios and good natured boy with a love of learning, teaching, and observing the world around her. But when she’s suddenly thrust into the flashy, fast-paced world of Star Palace, she can’t help but feel lost, and the fact that almost her entire appearance and identity was stripped away from her doesn’t help.

P.S I have some more art and information about my OCs here: https://www.tumblr.com/thegreatarlecchina/720470855075938304/did-some-expressions-for-mah-boi-nill-just-fyi

[machinegunbun]

2

The house you eventually park in front of is much like yours, just a bit bigger, since Colson didn't live alone. The sound of sirens outside is carried almost melodically in the freezing wind. You soak it all in, wondering about who else in this city felt so far from home and yet right in the thick of it.

"She's a beaut, huh?" Colson quips, motioning to the steps, "but at least we got it to ourselves tonight," his grin could stretch a city mile.

Once inside, Colson immediately turns on a nearby heater and clears the couch, grabbing his RAW tray off the busted up coffee table, almost muscle memory, it seems, for both of you. You lay a fat sack down on the rolling tray as he sweeps the papers out of the way.

"Damn, do you really got glaucoma?" He snorts, untwisting the top. "No wonder I can smell it thru your backpack." He is all smiles while he breaks it down. "Have a seat, make yourself at home," he offers, pointing to the couch cushion free next to him.

You sit down on the very edge, causing Colson to stop in his tracks.

"Aw, come on, don't do me like that," he pouts, pulling a folded blanket from the chair to his left. "I got blankies," he teased, knowing how drafty all these houses are the heater won't cut it. "I said, make yourself at home," he playfully insists, and unexpectedly, he grabs your thigh to pull you so close, you can feel the heat emitting from his jeans.

He continues as if nothing had even happened, luxurious tongue peeking out to seal the blunt. So you wrap the blanket across your laps, and act nonchalant, too, trying to force the lump in your throat all the way down.

"A backwoods, that's classic," you offer as a change of subject, watching mesmerized as the ambient lighting and warm tones of the fake flames of the heater danced across his chiseled face. Godddd, why couldn't you control yourself?

Colson smirked before running a lighter across it. "Only the best for my guest."

The two of you sit cozy under the blanket for a short period of time, passively hitting the blunt and savoring before passing, while Colson rigged up a speaker. As the hip hop played softly, you felt your muscles relax a bit, most they had in 6 years.

Colson began probing you with his eyes again, like he was about to start 20 questions back up.

"So, you're not really from around here, are you?" He digs, pressing a thigh against yours to turn to face you better.

"Ah, no," you say, nodding

"From....?" He prompts, rolling his hand before passing the blunt.

"Down South," you're ashamed the more you divulge.

Colson pulls a face. "You don't have an accent, though," he contests.

"Got rid of it," you shrug. "People think you're stupid," you smile back.

Colson takes a hand and begins rubbing your thigh softly, as if to comfort you, although he can feel the tension increasing doing just the opposite. "I wouldn't think you're stupid, at all," he husks quietly, serious.

You don't want to make a sound for fear it will come out as a squeak.

"Look, I would ask what brings you all the way out here, but..." He trails off before hitting the blunt hard. "I'm a blunt motherfucker, so I'll just say it. I know about the..." He is swallowing the wrong words, struggling despite his frankness. "Well, the whole crew knows about the... The statutory situation," he whispers, like someone is listening. "You don't really talk to nobody, so.. They got curious. There's... There's lots of articles."

You almost disassociate, so he takes it as a sign to continue.

"I couldn't imagine. So, if I'm making you uncomfortable..." He begins to look worried, the desire to backpedal immediately written across his face.

You physically snap back, and force him to stop leaning away from you.

"You're blunt, huh?" You ask, now trying to comfort him.

"Yeah. I'm sorry," he relaxes into your touch, though.

"You don't have any chains or ropes here, so I'm not here by force," you smile, darkly, almost transported back to 15 again.

Colson winces, sympathetically, before shaking his head (to no doubt clear images) the articles he had read that paint an all too vivid picture out of his mind like an etch a sketch.

"Look, I ... I really wanted to get to know you, and... Everybody told me it was a bad idea, you know? Like I would fuck up your life. But I just really can't resist, you seem so cool, so sweet," Colson trails off, realizing in your vulnerable state he had began being too vulnerable as well.

"Thanks. I know that sounds stupid, but, most people... Well, most guys, avoid me like the plague."

Colson melts back into the couch, into your warmth surrounding you, before beginning to pull a cigarette out for each of you. He passes it to you, so intuitive to how on edge you're feeling. He knows you too well already.

"You don't have to be scared, you know," you remind him, "you can keep playing 20 questions." You're joking but serious. "I've possibly purposefully not made any friends here yet. I salute you breaking the ice AND addressing the elephant in the room," you admit. "I like cutting thru the bullshit."

Colson takes a thoughtful drag from his cigarette while formulating his next question.

" okay," he sounds more at ease, "do you have a boyfriend?" He risks, wincing at how insensitive it sounds, but he correctly got the impression it was forgiven and you wanted to move forward exactly as he intended originally.

"Oooh, no, actually," you giggle at the spicy question. "Other than, the, ya know... Situation, shall I say, never been with a man before." You're shocked at how honest you're being.

Colson can't help his jaw dropping. "How... How old are--you're still a virgin??" He is stumbling over his words.

"21, and, yeah," you choke out, sudden shyness taking over.

It was so refreshing he considered you a virgin still that you could die on the spot.

"Whoa. Just.... Damn," Colson stuttered, as the etch a sketch cleaned his slate once again. Hopefully be was clearing thoughts of how tight you must be still, not how damaged you are.

"Do, um," he clears his throat while putting out his cigarette, "what kind of tattoos and piercings do you have?"

"None, of either, actually," you admit, eyes hungrily scanning Colson's inked up neck.

It seems he can't believe his ears.

"Are you.. Holy shit, no way? Prove it," he challenges.

You shrug the blanket and flannel off to expose your belly, shoulders, and lift your crop top to show nothing on collar bones. Colson looks like he would spit if he had water he was drinking. He wasn't expecting you to show him anything for real.

He lifts a tentative hand to your cheek to brush your hair behind the ear, "wow, no ear piercings, either. You're magical," he says heavily. "You're younger than me, by, like, a lot, but anyone... like you, I never would have guessed..."

You realize now that his knuckles still lay resting on your cheek, stroking it softly, and he'll be able to feel them burning red hot with embarrassment and desire The shame, because you've never done this before, never been so close and intimate with someone, and the desire as well for the same reason.

"You're better than I ever even imagined," he admits before falling silent, soaking up your reaction fully,

Colson breaks the silence first. "I want to kiss you," he states, voice dripping with lust, and cracking slightly.

As you place a hand over his much larger on your cheek, he takes this as a sign to keep going. Leaning forward, foreheads almost touching, Colson licks his lips and scans your face hungrily.

"Can I?" He prompts, impatient, pupils blown, and jaw tight with anticipation.

You feel like you barely nod, hand dropping off of his, before he grabs it tightly to put it around his neck.

"Like this, let me show you," he whispers, lips ghosting yours.

In one Swift motion he slides a hand under your lower back in order to lay you down gently on the couch, hovering above you, on the edge of deranged with desire, like a wolf standing over a downed deer. You figure Colson has never had to exhibit this much self control before.

"I wanna defile you, take your innocence," he rasps, thumb finding its way to your bottom lip, stroking gently, opening your mouth ever so slightly. "I want it to be mine, I've wanted this for so long," he smiles, his rock hard cock pressing with a ungodly heat against your pubic bone. He's not even hiding anything anymore, using your exposed tummy and clothed pussy to hump and grind softly in order take the edge off.

"Can I touch you?" He asks desperately, biting his lip so hard you thought it might bleed. "I want to help you relax a little," Colson whispers, though you imagine it's just as much for him as it is you.

"Anything you want, Cols." You're almost choking.

He lets out a dark laugh at this, and in an instant his hands feel like they're all over you, exploring, finally coming to rest at your jugular, feeling the intense pounding underneath his fingertips.

"You're scared?" It's a question as much as it is a statement. "Or turned on?" Colson raises a brow, other hand massaging your thigh, slowly curling it around his waist, positioning and posing you like a ragdoll, your body defeated and limp to his touches. You are in a state of bliss and fear. "Maybe both," he concludes, smirking.

At this you close your eyes, expecting any second to wake up from this all too familiar dream, as you've pined for your coworker possibly even longer than he has.

Suddenly, Colson is at your ear, breath hot and desperate. "Don't be scared babydoll, you're in good hands," he reassures, nipping at your earlobe in such a way it sends a shiver all throughout your body. "I... Will go... Slowww," he teases out painstakingly, "slow as you need me to," he adds gently.

It was then you were startled into the reality of the situation by the sound of his belt coming undone, soft noises as it is expertly slipped out of his belt loops in one, fluid motion. Colson feels you panic underneath him, and he is quick to respond to this.

—-

Havent had a chance to read it yet but i wanted yall to have fhis lmfaoo. A gift from bigblakdix to me to you

[tendercoretroglodyke]

ok people dying bc they decided to fuck with a wild zebra isn't THAT funny... but people getting the shit scared out of them by the pre-dawn braying of a herd of zebras is hilarious

like I have seen complete jackasses try and approach wild chincoteague ponies for a selfie and i worked at a zoo where a zookeeper was killed by a loose zebra. if a wild population of zebras was established in the suburbs of maryland, people WOULD die. ...it'd still be pretty funny tho jdskdnd

[violetevents]

Oh wait 39. was taken (am so sorry, I thought it wasn’t, my mistake)

Would I be able request .40 instead

(“Okay, so. No more caffeine for you, that’s apparent”) for Willex if possible!

Hope you have a wonderful day!

aaah don’t worry, thanks for your alternative request!!! i wrote a tiny little collega au, hope you like it :)

40. “Okay, so. No more caffeine for you, that’s apparent”

Willie enters the library fully expecting it to be empty, but finds Alex huddled away in a corner, squinting at his laptop, table in front of him covered in books an papers.

“Hey,” he says, shaking Alex out of his staring contest with the laptop. He looks rumpled, and sleep deprived, and so absolutely goddamn beautiful Willie forgets to breath for a second.

“Willie?” Alex asks, “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Willie says, awkwardly hovering next to Alex’s table. They met in a lecture about music theory only a few weeks ago, he’s not sure they’re good enough friends yet to just unceremoniously plop down at each other’s study tables. “Wanted to get in some late night studying. You still here?” They had spoken, earlier today, when Alex was on his way to the library. That was 8 hours ago.

Alex makes a vague noise. “I have to finish this essay for class tomorrow, but it’s beating my ass. I had a few cups of coffee in the hopes that would revive me and give me the push I need to finish but all its accomplished is that I can now look into five different dimensions all at the same time. One of them has ladybugs the size of elephants.”

“Okay, so. No more caffeine for you, that’s apparent,” Willie says, slightly horrified but not surprised. He doesn’t know Alex that well, but he knows enough to know he doesn’t like failure. Even if avoiding it means drinking an ungodly amount of coffee. “You know what, let me take a look at that, maybe I can help you.”

Alex looks like he’s going to protest, but eventually settles on a relatively weak, “Don’t you have your own coursework to finish?”

“Meh, that can wait.” It can’t, but his professors are just going to have to deal. “Here, give it to me,” he asks, gesturing for Alex’s laptop as he sits down.

For the next hour or so they pour over Alex’s essay together, slowly reaching a point where it’s an acceptable enough product to hand in. Which Alex does, exactly 5 minutes before the deadline.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Alex says, leaning back in his chair, clearly exhausted. “Literally. I was on the brink of insanity. If there’s ever anything I can do to repay you, let me know.”

“I know something,” Willie says, trying to sound cool and aloof and not jittery and nervous when he adds, “you can take me on a date?”

Alex blinks. “Like uh,” he blushes, “like a date date?”

“Yeah,” Willie says, “Like a date date.”

Alex smiles widely as he says, “I would like that,” then he frowns as he ads. “No coffee though. I think I’ve had enough to last me a lifetime.”

Willie laughs so hard the librarian comes over to shush them, even though they’re the only ones still there.

[ayla-221bee]

The Five Times Greg Made Breakfast -Chapter 2. Pancakes.

link to Chapter one - Coffee https://hogwartsjaguar97.tumblr.com/post/623567298016559104/the-five-times-greg-made-breakfast-chapter-one

@piemakerfrom

. Pancakes and berry coulis.

It was the soft rustle of the sheets and the shift in the bed that roused Greg out of sleep. He had been resting his head on something warm and soft before it had been replaced with pillows that were softer and plusher than his own.

It was with great reluctance that Greg opened up his eyes, he wanted nothing more than five more minutes in the realm of sleep. He pulled the duvet over his head and groaned once he realised that he was not in his own bed and that he had potentially made a huge mistake. He did not even have the excuse of being drunk to even somewhat justify what happened.

“Morning,��  Greg offered, his voice somewhat muffled from the duvet.

“Good morning,” Mycroft replied from the other side of the bed, dressed in a tartan dressing gown that clashed somewhat with his pyjamas. “ How are you this morning?”

Greg shifted in the bed and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I’m fine,” he offered. “How are you?”

“I think that it will rain today,” Mycroft offered somewhat awkwardly. “Did you sleep...alright?”

Greg could practically see the elephant walk into the room and settle itself by the wardrobe. Mycroft was acting far too professional for the situation than he should have been. He stood awkwardly by the bed and rambled on about the postal service, the history of stamps and how he used to collect them.

Greg let him ramble on for ten minutes, it was much preferable to the heavy and uncomfortable silence that pressed down in them in the occasional lull of Mycroft’s monologue about the types of stamps. He hardly had anything to contribute to this ungodly hour of the morning without several coffees in his system.

Greg forced himself out of bed and accepted the blue dressing gown that Mycroft had handed to him from the wardrobe. He forced himself to be more cheerful than he felt and he tried to ignore the pressing feeling that the two of them had made a massive mistake last night.

“Why don’t I go and make us some breakfast?” Greg offered, wrapping the dressing gown tightly around his middle. “Fancy anything in particular?”

Mycroft made a non-committal noise. “Do you have food in your dungeon of a kitchen? More than just biscuits?”

Mycroft snorted and folded his arms across his chest. “I have more than biscuits, you did bring flour and milk when you came over last night. You were insistent on buying food.”

“It was the least that I could do,” Greg shrugged. “You are putting me up for a few days while my flat gets sorted out.”

“My brother did put one of those ghastly experiments of his in your home. I doubt that would ever apologise for it,” Mycroft sighed. “The smell was horrid enough to potentially end relations between my brother and Scotland Yard, I cannot let that happen.”

The corner of Greg’s mouth involuntarily twitched upwards and he let out a soft chuckle. “I can assure you that your brother has done worst things and I am still on good terms with him,” he said. “You kidnapped me and interrogated me in a warehouse and now we are good mates.”

Mycroft gave him a tight smile that did not reach his eyes. “Do you mind if I use the shower?” he asked even though he was in his own home.

“I’ll make breakfast, I’m sure that I can find something to make from what I put in the dungeon last night,” Greg said. “Sure that there isn’t anything you fancy?”

“I normally just have tea…” Mycroft murmured.

Greg sighed and wished that things were not suddenly so awkward between them. Mycroft could hardly look at him without a somewhat guilty and sheepish expression on his face. Greg wondered if they had ruined thier friendship from a silly mistake, mates didn’t usually sleep in the same bed and kiss another.

“I’ll go and make breakfast then,” Greg said, somewhat stunted. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

Mycroft nodded and made his way to en-suit, the silence that followed closing door was deafening. Greg stood in the room for a moment until he heard the shower run and glared at the imaginary elephant that watched him in the corner of the room.

He walked into Mycroft’s guest bedroom that he was meant to have slept in last night and dressed before he made his way into  Mycroft’s dungeonesque kitchen.

He cringed at the evidence of the night before, the half-finished Thai take away, the wine glasses, and the Hot Fuzz DVD that was lying on the living room table. The crime scene of a potentially ruined friendship.

Greg was somewhat surprised that Mycroft had had kitchen equipment other than his depressing fridge, a kettle, and a cupboard full of mugs.  He had not expected to see any pots and pans in the cupboard, but he knew that they were rarely used.

He opened up the recently filled cupboards and pulled out the bag of flour. He found a bag of frozen berries that were stashed in the back of the freezer.

Pancakes seemed like a suitable breakfast for a morning such as this.  Greg rarely bothered with breakfast himself. He tended to have coffee and doughnuts in the office and he hardly ate anything fancier than bacon sandwiches on his days off. He felt the need to make something more inspiring for breakfast, he was a guest and pancakes would hopefully act as an olive branch.

He sighed as flour covered his old The Clash shirt from a concert from years ago when he poured it into a bowl.  He could never cook or bake without getting covered in flour, it seemed near impossible for him to do so, even when he wore an apron.

He could hear the shower running and Greg thought that he could hear Mycroft singing quietly to himself. He wondered if Mycroft would still be alright with him staying over for a few days or if he should get a hotel to save any awkwardness and to help spare their friendship.

He had a thing for Mycroft for years but behaved himself, he knew that Mycroft would never be interested in anything. He had been convinced that Mycroft was married for the first two years that they had known another with the ring that he wore and he kept things professional.

He had been pleasantly surprised when Mycroft revealed that his ring was to stop dignitaries and assistants from trying to flirt with him and to save himself and them embarrassment in the workplace. He had been somewhat more hopeful about something happening between himself and Mycroft after that.

Greg had been somewhat hopeful about his chances with Mycroft but didn’t force anything to happen. He had tried to flirt countless times and he had asked Mycroft out, Mycroft never seemed to pick up on his signs or he acted purposely oblivious to his flirtations.

Greg had been fine with that, he was happy just being friends even if he had the feeling that there was something...more between them.

What happened last night was evidence of Greg’s belief.

He heard the shower switch off and he made a large mug of tea and left it on the kitchen table as a peace offering for Mycroft.

“What are you making?” Mycroft asked once he made his way into the kitchen and settled into the table. He was dressed more casually than usual, a nice shirt and jumper on instead of his usual attire of a three-piece suit. He had nowhere to be today, he had a day off from the office and they had been talking about going out for lunch today.

“It’s just some pancakes,” Greg said, flipping a pancake on the pan. “I’ve got a berry coulis on the go as well.”

“I’m sure that they will be scrumptious,” Mycroft murmured with a small smile. “I am always impressed with your cooking.”

Greg pulled out a tea towel to wipe his hands and smiled to himself as he found several bars of expensive chocolate hidden in the drawer. “I rarely get the time to cook so I like to impress when I do,” he said. “ Besides, someone needs to get a good home-cooked meal or two in you. You would live on tea if you could.”

He could practically hear the gears in Mycroft’s head turn, probably thinking about what happened the night before. He wondered if Mycroft regretted it, it was difficult to read his expression.

As much as Greg wanted to talk about it, he knew that Mycroft would be reluctant to do it. He knew that Mycroft was far too  British to talk about things especially when it dealt with feelings. He knew that Mycroft had about two hundred years of British emotional repression in him.

He placed the plate of pancakes in front of Mycroft and smiled when Mycroft practically covered them in the sauce. As much as he wanted to tease him for his sweet tooth, Greg could not bring himself to do so.

“Last night…” Greg said, trying to address the ever-growing elephant in the room.

He wanted to ignore it but he knew that it would be impossible to do so. It would make their friendship awkward and stunted and it would be impossible to go around blissfully ignoring it without tripping up on the trunk.

“We do not need to talk about it,” Mycroft briskly replied, cutting his pancakes into small pieces. “It was a mistake.”

Greg sighed and gripped the spatula with more force than needed as if it was the only thing that kept him present.  “It wasn’t a mistake for me. Was it a mistake for you?”

Mycroft took a long minute to reply, he deliberately took a mouthful of pancake to give him more time to gather his thoughts.   “I am not sure...”

“I’m fine with us just being friends,” Greg said. “ I am not wanting things to be awkward between us...You are my best mate.”

“You are my closest friend,” Mycroft replied firmly.

“What do you want to do?” Greg asked.

“I am not sure...”

“I am more than happy to just be friends,” Greg said with a reassuring smile. “I would hate to lose you.”

Mycroft did not say anything for a very long time. Greg could practically hear the individual drops of rain hitting the kitchen window and each thought going through Mycroft’s head.

“What if... I want to be more than just friends?”  Mycroft finally managed to utter out, his voice hardly above a whisper.

Greg opened up his mouth to reply but no words  came out  as he realised that his pancake starting to burn.

---

Currently doing prompt fics and any suggestions for breakfast foods are welcome!   @piemaker-from-gallifrey

Chapter three:https://archiveofourown.org/works/25128382/chapters/61563904

[samscait]

Trust Me

I stared blankly at the line in my script. I had been going over the same scene, alone in my trailer, for the past 40 minutes. I wasn’t retaining a thing, and my mind was all over the place with memories of a sleepless night. I read it again, and stared into my vanity mirror. What the fuck, Balfe. It was a single sentence. 

“I’ve asked Brianna–”

My mind blanked again. I picked up my phone and saw an unread message.

Dusty Rose: Christ, if Matthew doesn’t stop crying. He screams every time we sit him on Sleepy.

Without acknowledging Sam’s message, I typed my own.

Come to my trailer when you’re done with the scene. I’m distracted and need to talk through something with you. Maybe running the lines together will help. 

Dusty Rose: K. I have 20 minutes or so for a reset.

I closed my eyes and fluffed out my flat wig hair. Shit, I was tired and could use a pick me up. Where was that PA with the fucking coffee? I folded my legs up indian style, closing in on myself in the salon chair I was sitting in in front of the mirror. I arched my back, stretching my arms high out over my head and rolled my head around. It was going to be a long night. 

I folded my arms on my head, closed my eyes, and ran through the line again. 

“I’ve asked Brianna to draw some portraits for us. Of all of them, especially Jemmy.”

I was taken out of my reverie by the sound of an elephant wearing boots, stomping and scraping, as the screen door slammed shut behind me.

“Is really it necessary to make that much noise?” I said without moving or opening my eyes.

“It rained a bit. Would ye prefer I left the muddy boots on?” 

I opened my eyes and chuckled at the sight of Sam stumbling around and pulling the heavy boots off in one tug, nearly losing his balance. 

“What’s the deal? What are we rehearsing? I’m not sure if i’m in the headspace to go over that last block again at the moment.”

I gave him a weak smile. “It’s silly really, but it’s just the short scene before the window. My mind’s been elsewhere and I need someone to keep me in the moment.”

He walked over to where I was sitting and propped against the counter, facing me. Looking over, he picked up the script and analyzed the page I was on. He raised his eyes to look at me, brows hitting the ceiling.

“Ye have two lines?”

“....yes,” I hesitated, lifting my chin up a bit.

“Where is Caitríona and what did ye do with her?” He gave me an incredulous look, tilting his head to the side.

I rolled my eyes and let out a small snicker.

“What’s going on up there?” He said, and swatted the side of my head with the script.

I sighed and covered my eyes with my arms once more, afraid that I had reached the point of exhaustion where I may actually shed tears. 

“Hey. Balfe.” A more serious tone this time, I thought. 

Letting out another big sigh, I let my arms fall to the arms of the chair, and steeled my expression. His face softened while he waited for an answer. 

“There’s just… a lot going on at home. A lot going on here. A lot to prep for and scenes I'm nervous about. I didn’t sleep well. My mind is racing and I’m having a hard time focusing.”

He gave me a sympathetic smile, which morphed into a more serious “Jamie look.” I always found it funny how he could switch Jamie on and off like that. 

“That’s a braw notion, Sassenach.”

He smiled at me and lifted one eyebrow.

“I remembered you for 20 years, Mo Chridhe. No pictures at all, hm. But it does help.” He gave a smirk, no doubt at the confidence he had in delivering a well practiced line. 

He lifted my hand and pressed it to his lips, lingering for a moment. Sam or Jamie now? We held eye contact, and for a moment, my mind was clear and everything stood still. His expression was soft and warm. The bloody man was always so concerned with how I was feeling. So in tune. Always my calm center, and always making sure I was okay– even if he was mostly to blame for the turbulence at home. But he didn’t need to know that.

“What are you doing?” I said, scoffing, then trying (and failing) to yank my hand away.

He held his grip and tugged at my hand, as he took a step back, and pulled me to my feet. He pulled me close with his hands on my hips and I stood there, looking up at him, frozen, unsure what to do. And then his hands went lower, cupping my ass and lifting me. Before I knew what was happening I was being placed on the counter with him standing close between my legs. He stood still for a moment, giving me time to move, or push him away. I felt myself fighting to give into another moment that felt rather intimate, considering our current dynamic. 

He ran a soothing hand up and down my back, while the other ran up the outside of my leg. Finger tips ever so lightly tracing from ankle to the back of my knee, until they stopped, disappearing under my robe and on top of my thigh. He leaned in, laying his palm flat on the top of my thigh, and spreading his fingertips dangerously close to where I wanted them. His lips hovered closely to my ear and his breath was hot, tickling and raising the baby hairs on my skin.

“Onions.”

I let out a cackle. This was not where I thought things were going.

“Garlic. Mmm. Something hot,” he continued. “Hm...peppercorns, aye. Cloves.”

I pulled back, giving him a questioning look. He wiggled his eyebrows and answered by placing a soft kiss on the skin underneath my left ear.

“Are we still running lines?” I asked, as I closed my eyes and let out a shaky breath.

“Aren’t we?

I pulled back and swatted at him. “Don’t do that.”

He grinned like a devil.

“Sam–” shaking my head, I moved to get down from the counter. “Your driver will be back here any moment.”

He placed a hand on the low part of my stomach to stop me and lowered his head to meet my eyes. “Trust me?”

I hesitated as I felt the fingertips inch closer to the inside of my leg. His hand was now completely under my robe. I felt his thumb brush down and stroke my thigh lazily. As he placed his other hand on my lower back and pulled me aflush with him, wedging my legs further apart.

I looked him dead in the eye, holding eye contact to the point where it was nearly uncomfortable, but he didn’t break. He held my gaze as the hand on my thigh began to move towards my center. He dipped a single, dexterous finger into my wetness, sliding it upwards and swirling around the swelling nub with the lightest pressure. My mouth fell open and his reaction mirrored mine, as I sucked in a heavy breath of air. I heard him let out a low whimper, as a second finger joined in, this time pressing further. I relished in the feel of him moving torturously slow, and struggled to keep our eyes locked. 

My lids lowered and he planted a hand at the base of my hair, tugging hard enough to cause me to to open my eyes further. 

“Let me make you feel good,” he breathed into my mouth, but all I could manage was a sob.

I held his eyes once again, as I watched him drop to his knees, one at a time, and hike my leg over his shoulder. He dragged his tongue up the inside of my knee, pausing to look at me for a moment, then continued up, before he placed his hot mouth over my center and ran his tongue bottom to top.

Sam picked up his pace, urgently swirling, licking, and sucking. Moving to the spot that he had carefully practiced so many times before, sending me into my undoing. I threw my head backwards, slamming it in the cabinet hanging above and letting out an ungodly moan. 

His hand flew up to silence me and I dipped his fingers into my mouth, sucking and following his pace. I heard him growl and let out a low “fuck” myself, as bright spots began to appear, and I couldn’t focus on anything but my completion. 

Looking up at me, he spread me open with his fingers and suddenly the pressure of his tongue was too much. I reeled forward as my hand jumped to the top of his head and my fingers dug into his hair, but I wasn’t sure if I was stopping him or pulling him closer. He flicked his tongue over me, once, twice, and I launched forward again. 

“Let go, Cait,” he breathed. And I did, feeling all the tension leave my body.

I wasn’t sure how long I sat there on the counter, with my eyes closed and resting my head against the cabinets. When I did finally open my eyes, rather regretfully, I was alone and my phone was buzzing across the table at the end of the trailer. I hopped down and padded over to it.

How do we keep ending up here? I thought to myself, running a hand over my face and through my hair. So much for clearing your fucking mind, Balfe.

Dusty Rose: You knocked out for a bit and I’m due back on set. PA is bringing that coffee.

Thank you, I replied.

I watched the three dots appear on the iMessage screen; then disappear. They appeared again, this time staying on the screen for what felt like a lifetime… 

I heard a knock and turned to open the door to see Kerry, my makeup artist.

“Hey, Caitríona! Ready to get into makeup?” 

I gave her a warm smile and nodded.

I looked down at my phone again. His reply never came through.

[taikoturtle]

1. Things you said at 1 am trimberly please!

Kimberly learns that Trini mumbles in her sleep.

Sometimes it’s utter nonsense that spills out of her mouth, like “no, I don’t want to get on the flying snake” or “hands off my hotdog you son of a bitch.” Those are the funniest because Trini doesn’t like to curse when she’s awake - a habit learned by being around her little brothers all day - but man oh man, does her subconscious have things to say.

It happened for the first time in the beginning of summer following Rita’s attack on Angel Grove when Kimberly received a text from her favorite Ranger around ten at night.

can I come over?

Kimberly’s response was immediate.

of course

Trini arrived fifteen minutes later, her knuckles rapping softly on the window under the cover of darkness. After Kimberly unlatched the locks and threw open the frame to grant her entry, Trini swung her body inside in one smooth motion. She stood there in the middle of the room, a hollow look in her red, puffy eyes and a tired sag in her broken posture, but she made no effort to move or speak.

Closing the window securely, Kimberly studied her friend with a heavy heart. It tore her up inside to see her like this, but no matter what troubles afflicted Trini, Kimberly swore that she’d do her best to help her through them.

After what seemed like an eternity, Trini removed her shoes and headed towards the bed, her socks padding softly against the carpet, and crawled under the covers before curling into a tiny ball. No noise emitted from her body, but the subtle shaking of the blankets and muted sniffles could only mean one thing, so Kimberly flipped the lights off and crawled into bed with her to let her know she wasn’t alone.

Ever since then, it’s become a thing.

Trini no longer shoots her texts; Kimberly just knows to keep her window unlocked, and at odd hours of the night a little knocking on her window like a tiny pecking bird alerts her to the subsequent appearance of her best friend.

At times she shows up with a broad smile on her face with food in hand and a boisterous attitude.

“I grabbed some extra glazed this morning and I need your help finishing them.”

“What do you think of the new kid, Tommy? Seems like a cocky dickhead to me.”

“Hey, I came up with a new training technique and I wanna hear your thoughts on it.”

They talk, they laugh, they joke, they smile. Her room no longer feels empty or isolated like it so often did during the school year, not with Trini there to keep her company. Those are the visits that Kimberly looks forward to because they’re fun and lighthearted; they offer a break from the monotony of household chores and incessant Power Ranger training.

The visits she loathes are the ones where they don’t need to speak in order for her to understand the gravity of the situation. She hates those visits because she feels powerless to help Trini escape the monsters that haunt her. Whether they’re nightmares of inescapable claws snared around her neck or intangible demons brought to life in the form of familial disappointment and the crushing pressure of expectations, Trini bottles them up inside thinking it’s only her burden to bear and seeks refuge in the form of Kimberly’s room.

Kimberly never presses her to speak. She simply lets her know that she’ll always be there for her when she’s ready to talk about it. Trini assures her that that’s good enough, but Kimberly doesn’t always buy it - she doesn’t want to be just good enough. It crosses her mind every now and then that maybe Trini’s hiding something else, but she has no way to prove it and figures she’ll share when she’s ready.

But the most eventful night that changed the course of their relationship happened the day before their first class of senior year.

Tap tap tap

The window swings open and Trini pulls herself in with practiced grace. Kimberly had just finished getting ready to go to sleep and was sitting cross legged on her bed reading a book. Kicking off her boots and tossing her backpack aside, Trini jumps onto the bed, landing with a little bounce next to her friend.

“Sewing? Really?” Trini chuckles as she peers over Kimberly’s shoulder and quickly scans the contents of the pages. “Since when do you care about home economics?”

The book slams shut as Kimberly reaches over to grab the beanie off of Trini’s head. She waves it around as the smaller girl tries to snatch it back but to no avail.

“I care because you still have that ugly rip in the side from sparring with Jason and I’m going to fix it up for your lazy ass.”

“Hey,” Trini pouts as she reaches across Kimberly with her arm outstretched. “I’ll get to it eventually, just give it back.”

Unable to contain herself, Kimberly extends her arm as far away as possible as a sly grin spreads across her face, her eyes narrowing playfully in the process.

“Why don’t you make me.”

There’s a spark in Trini’s eyes as her own lips tug upward. “Oh you’re going down.”

Her body launches upwards in the blink of an eye and she nearly catches Kimberly off guard, but Kimberly is equally fast and has the advantage of longer limbs so she narrowly dodges the sneak attack by abruptly pushing herself backwards. She nearly pats herself on the back at her lightning-quick evasionary tactics, but it dawns on her that there’s nowhere left to go as Trini twists back around and throws herself at her with all her might.

Kimberly’s back slams against the headboard of her bed frame, her arm still high in the air with the beanie clenched tightly in her grasp, as Trini presses up against her face to face. Her legs are situated on either side of Kimberly’s hips and she’s essentially got her trapped.

It’s the perfect time to steal the beanie back; she has better leverage and can easily reach Kimberly’s hand from her current position. There’s a victorious smile lighting up Trini’s features because she knows she’s already won, but when she looks into Kimberly’s eyes to rub it in her face, it seems to dawn on her just how close they are.

A mere few inches is all it would take to close the gap. Neither of them say it, but they both think it - they both feel it.

The room is dead silent save for their shallow, uneven breaths as the smile on Trini’s face gradually shrinks from the sobering situation. Her eyes dart down to Kimberly’s lips before flickering back up and it finally solidifies in Kimberly’s mind just exactly what cryptic emotions the other girl is holding back.

She wants to tell her that it’s okay and that everything will be alright because the funny thing is, she feels it too, but the words don’t come out fast enough and Trini’s already rolling off of Kimberly to settle down on her side of the bed.

Her body wriggles beneath the covers to get comfortable before she rolls over on her side, her back facing Kimberly as if it’s an impenetrable shield that’ll protect her from the harsh, cruel pain of falling in love with your best friend.

Kimberly clears her throat and starts, “Hey–”

“I’m tired.”

A beat of silence.

“But Trini–”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

‘It’ is a huge elephant in the room right now and try as she might, Kimberly knows that Trini can’t ignore it any longer, not after what almost happened. They’re going to have to address it, but if she says not now then Kimberly has no other choice than to comply.

A heavy sigh escapes her lips as she clicks off the lights and sinks down into the mattress. “Goodnight.”

“‘Night.”

“Stay with me.”

Darkness still shrouds the room when Kimberly’s eyelids sluggishly open halfway. Her mind is foggy with sleep and half-finished dreams, but she makes out a blurry 1:02 A.M. on the digital clock on her bedside and a feeling of relief washes over her system. 

She still has hours to go before school, but Trini’s muffled, slurred voice reaches her ears. “Don’t… go.”

Kimberly rubs her eyes drowsily as she hesitantly whispers, “Trini?”

She’s met with silence and for a moment she wonders if it was all in her head, but then more words spill out of Trini’s mouth in a jumbled heap.

“I’ve slain the dragon. Princess Kimmy, marry me.”

A loud, ungodly snort escapes Kimberly’s nose and she knows Trini will never live this down. Tiny whimpers drift out of Trini’s lips and it takes all of Kimberly’s groggy willpower to not burst into actual outrageous laughter, but then Trini mumbles again and it’s no longer funny.

“I love you.”

Her lungs seize up and her heart halts to a dead stop as if time is standing still. It’s not the way she ever pictured hearing Trini say those words, but Kimberly can’t unhear them now and she repeats them over in her mind like a broken record. 

She likes the way it sounds rolling off of Trini’s tongue, like it’s a special phrase that’s she’s never heard before until Trini breathed real life and meaning into it. Though Trini is only dreaming, the sentiment is fully there and Kimberly hopes that one day she’ll have a chance to hear it again when the other girl is awake.

Kimberly rolls over and places a soft kiss on Trini’s shoulder.

“I love you too.”

Trini ends up asking her out the next day.

They’re at lunch eating and just as the bell rings to signal for them to start making their way to AP Chem, Trini pulls her aside by a row of lockers. She’s blushing furiously but manages to stammer out a cute and rushed “Will you go out with me?”

Finally, Kimberly thinks, but then…

“Wait,” she says curiously, “what changed your mind so fast? Last night, you didn’t even want to talk about it, let alone mention it.”

Trini chuckles up at her and grins. “You talk in your sleep too, you know.”

Kimberly pales.

“You called me your knight in shining armor and said we should bang.” 

Smooth, Kimberly, real smooth.

[sonxfcupid]

Sweet dreams are made of this

Callum and Z meet each other in the infirmary but Callum’s fatigue leads them somewhere else.

Callum had been sitting in the Infirmary’s waiting room for a while, just incase something happened to go wrong with someone in his Cohort. The constant noise around him seemed to be on repeat, causing his eyes to grow heavy. He found himself fighting a constant battle, struggling to stay awake. With a sigh, he shook his head and stood up. He decided to go for a walk, to get his blood circulating and to wake him up so that if there was an emergency, he was there and ready to help. His walk lead him down the corridor and as he turned a random corner, he bumped into someone at full speed. He instinctively grabbed onto them, stopping them from falling over. “Shit sorry.” He said, almost with a gasp.

It hadn’t occurred to Z that anyone would be rushing through the infirmary. It had been ample time since the initial crisis, which had overall reduced the sense of urgency of those inside. The past few hours, in fact, had been calm enough that the psychologist was able to sit down and eat something. He’d chosen a salad, sans any sort of dressing. It was understandable that he’d rather not smell of vinegar while helping any other patients he may have had for the day, which went along smoothly. It was around the time for his second break that he decided dining out would be for the best. He certainly needed a change of air.

He should’ve been more careful when he went to retrieve his bag from the nurse’s station. If he had, he wouldn’t have gracelessly rammed his face directly into a solid wall of muscle. Instead, he might’ve been able to hear the footfalls as they approached. As it stood, he found himself gazing up at a familiar face. “And here I thought you’d French dip me,” he said easily, raised eyebrows and soft smile betraying the tease that left his lips. “Not that I’m complaining, but I do believe I can stand, Callum.”

In a daze, Callum didn’t recognize the other at first, but as he began to speak, it centered him, and he realized that the voice belonged to the man who he had kissed at the festival. A weak smile spread across his face. “No, je pourrais francais t'embrasser bien que.” He teased, not knowing whether the other could understand him or not. Quite frankly, the French was just Callum slipping into a more natural language as he lost concentration.

“Sorry.” He removed his hands from the other and slid them into his pockets. “I’m glad you’re okay. You did a pretty good job with Hannibal.” Although Callum seemed to be all over the place during the fire, he had taken in everything that was happening around him. Z riding an elephant was one of them.

Z had a rudimentary understanding of classical Latin from his years of behavioral science and neuroscience, but the root words were ones that he had committed to memory. Though, he committed everything to memory. It was a perk, and drawback, to being well-versed in Mnemokinesis. It would be a hassle to try and forget anything he experienced. He tilted his head at the tease uttered to him, blinking wide eyes as he tried translating based entirely on the root words. Kiss? It was the only thing that made any sort of sense.

When he was released, Z’s smile grew a bit wider and much more genuine. “It’s one of my many talents,” he said, waving off the idea of him being okay. He hadn’t slept, which was never good for someone like him. He could feel his powers growing a bit of acidity to them already. In a few hours, he’d have to watch out for causing people ungodly levels of insomnia. “How are you feeling? I saw you rush into that burning building. You didn’t suffer any lasting lung damage, did you?”

‘How are you feeling?’ , a question that people kept asking him. Yes, he had run into a burning building, and yes, he had been treated with oxygen when finally arriving at the infirmary. But he felt that the question was an absurd one for him to be asked. There were demi-gods that had it way worse than he did. “I’m grand.” He lied. He was exhausted and his recent night terrors prevented him from getting any decent sleep. He also had a mild burn on his right hand that he was ignoring.

“The only lung damage I have is from you. You keep taking my breath away.” He said, his classic smirk making an appearance on his face. Callum, remembering their time at the kissing booth, realized that he had run off on Z and hadn’t seen him since. “Sorry about running off. Centurion duties you know?”

It was believable enough. If Z had slept any, he may have approached the reply with his usual level of skepticism, but he’d spent the day before the festival-wide awake and also the day before. An ongoing four-day avoidance of sleep could turn anyone into an optimist, it seemed. “Wonderful. I worried about you and the others,” he shared. It was another thing he wouldn’t have done if he had slept. The psychologist rarely gave away how he was feeling about them when it came to personal matters. He preferred to reserve the open concern only for his clients.

The flirt had shocked him a bit, head reeling around the purity of the phrasing. “Hm...as a doctor, maybe I should refrain from kissing you anymore, then. I would hate to steal any more breath from you than I do just by showing you my pretty face,” he fired back, playfully tapping Callum’s chest. Wow; Maia wasn’t kidding about them earning their muscles. “You don’t have to apologize for doing your job. I understand; and, I had the chance to watch you work in person. I must say...you’re much stronger than I thought.”

Callum’s legs had begun to ache again, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to stand much longer. The fact that he felt so weak had begun to irritate him, and along with Z’s banterful response, he had started to become cranky. His smile began to waver and his eyes dropped to the ground at the mention of his ‘work’. Although he had helped to save people from the fire, and he hadn’t injured himself, it was still a traumatic experience for him.

“I did okay.” He mumbled. He was angry at himself for not being able to do more, so help more. He was angry at himself because his powers were useless in situations like the fire. He had watched Percy put out a massive portion of the fire and break through a wall to save a kid. He sighed as he lifted a hand to rub his palm against one of his eyes. He was too tired to now control his powers and he felt them coming onto him, like a wave, stimulating every emotion from within side. And at that point, in a swift move, he pulled Z into a hug and rested his head on the man's shoulder.

Callum was beginning to lose it and it hadn’t occurred to Z that it was going to be a matter of physical proportions until he noticed that the taller man had swayed on his feet. Before he could ask what was wrong, his body was wrapped in the other man’s arms and he had to steady himself before they toppled to the ground. Under circumstances in which there were a cushion of some sort behind him, it wouldn’t have seemed like a terrible idea. In the hallway of the infirmary, however, sounded detrimental to his health.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you,” he said without thinking about the consequences. His hand lifted to rub circles into Callum’s back and his eyes began to glow a dull pink as he released an aura of calm that occurred just before slumber. It would help keep him together, he felt. “Do you live nearby? I think we should get you somewhere comfortable, love.”

Callum had to concentrate every day on controlling his emotions and on stopping himself from adopting the emotions of others around him. However, in his time of distress, he had no energy to put into his daily control. However, he began to feel a wave of calm fall over him, which acted as a tranquilizer, stopping his powers from stimulating his emotions. He listened to the other comfort him, and as much as he enjoyed the others touch on his back, he felt embarrassed for breaking down in front of the other. He broke away from the hug and crossed one arm across his chest, holding onto his other arm that was at his side.

“My room is in my Cohort barracks, it’s not too far.” But then again, nothing was ever too far away in Camp Jupiter. “Sorry, I — I …” He didn’t even know how to explain what had happened, and instead, trailed off, head tilted towards the floor.

It took a few moments, but Z could feel the tension pour out of Callum. He let out his own sigh of relief as he continued to rub at the male’s back until he finally pulled away. Z had never been one for physical affection, but if it helped another on their journey to recovery, he wouldn’t hesitate to move beyond his comforts. Though, if he were honest, being in Callum’s arms was not the worst thing in the world.

Z nodded to the answer provided. Not too far meant Z wouldn’t have to traverse to far from the infirmary, which in kind would mean he could find his way home easily. “It’s alright, love,” he practically whispered. He then took a step forward into Callum’s personal space and ran a hand down the taller man’s forearm until it reached his hand. His fingers curled around the other’s palm and he looked up at him, eyes filled with an emotion he couldn’t pinpoint. “This is the part where you take the pretty man to your home, Callum.”

When Z slide his hand down into his own, his heart skipped a beat and butterflies erupted into his stomach. He’d held hands with many people before, like Maia and Fergus, but something felt different about Z. Callum gently squeezed the other's hand, having eye contact with Z, and nodded. He considered arguing about how he shouldn’t take him there and that the barracks were filled with stressed out demi-gods, but instead, he decided to go with the flow. He led Z back to his room, his emotions still tranquilized, causing him to not say a word on the journey there. Soon, they arrived and Callum opened the door and invited Z to walk in first.

“It’s not amazing, but it’s home.” He said, looking around his room. For someone’s room, it wasn’t very personalized, with the only indication that it was Callum’s room is a picture of his mom on a dresser against the wall. Other than that, it may as well have been any guys room.

The hand that came to wrap itself around his own was warm and firm. Z could recount the amount of times a man held his hand and it only added up to around eight times; half of which were patients that had required some sort of physical intimacy. He didn’t thoroughly enjoy it, but he knew that others valued the small gesture a great deal more. It was why he clung to the feeling in the best way he could and followed after the man as they walked, keeping his thoughts pleasant to offer him reassurance that things were going to be okay.

When they arrived, Z stepped inside and took in a breath. It lacked the sentimentality that most people included in their personalized domains, but it smelled of him and that mattered. “It’s definitely better than the clinical feel of the infirmary, hm?” he offered, turning to look at Callum with another inviting smile on his face. “So, do you usually bring home sweet men or am I special?”

Callum managed a smile at the others jokes. The walk had woken him up a bit more, but fatigue was settling back in, and now that he was in his room, his bed screamed his name. “I don’t bring a lot of guys here no. Fergus has stayed over a couple of times, but you’re the first other than him.” He rubbed the back of his hand and walked over to his bed and took a seat. For about a split second he fought off the urge to fall back onto it, but soon the urge overtook his willpower and he flopped backward, bouncing a bit. He had managed to take a shower at the infirmary, but his pants were covered in dirt and soot, and the shirt he wore was not even his.

Callum wished that the other would lie next to him, and he was on the verge of asking him, but the fear of the other saying no kept his question at bay for a couple of seconds, and then it slipped, “I know that you might not want anything from me, but would you please mind lying with me? I -- I have night terrors and I think you might help, just having someone there, someone to hold onto.” He thought that if Z had come this far, that perhaps he would go a little further, and it wasn’t like he was asking Z to have sex with him, it was just a cuddle.

With Callum laying across his bed, the psychologist felt that it was around his time to leave. He had successfully walked the centurion to his place of comfort to rest and had done so with little opposition on the other, but he still needed to get ready for his next shift in the infirmary. Z would be working double-time until no help was needed anymore. “Oh! The cute Irish boy? He’s lovely,” he mentioned as he stretched his arms above his head. He was starting to ache all over from the exhaustion. It was really time for a nap.

Just as he was about to turn toward the door, Callum spoke again. Brown curls were raked through by a hand as Z reasoned within himself whether or not it was a good idea. On one hand, he was really only supposed to be out for a quick bite. The aforementioned nap wasn’t even in his personal requirements but he was going to squeeze one in any way. On the other, cuddling up to Callum was probably just as good as resting his head against Ursasaurus back in his flat. Without weighing the options any longer, Z climbed atop the bed and crawled over the resting man’s body until they were face to face. Slowly, he lowered himself down to plant a very soft, tentative kiss to Callum’s lips, before rolling over onto his side. “Just for a bit,” he warned, hazel eyes shining under his heavy lids.

Callum’s heart dropped as the other seemed to hesitate. But then, to his surprise, Z climbed over him and ended up face to face. He stared deeply into the other's hazel eyes before instinctively closing them when Z returned Callum’s previously stolen kiss. He body seemed to move with Z’s as the man rolled onto his side. Reaching for pillows, he propped one under Z’s head and then placed one between his own arm and head. His other arm stretched and wrapped around Z’s back, slightly pulling him closer and treating him as a teddy bear.

“Thank you.” He whispered, trying to keep his eyes open, but the pillow was so soft and comfortable that within seconds, he had drifted off to sleep next to the man that would surely one day break his heart.

[misssophiachase]

Angel of the Morning

So, I kind of did a similar theme on another drabble but didn't think I gave it the proper time and energy given it was during the craziness of 25 days of Klaroline. You can read it HERE if you’re interested. So because I loved the concept here is the similar premise but with a different twist on things. Plus the Bella Hadid/Weekend stuff gave me some inspiration.

Angel and Supermodel Caroline Forbes and Lead Singer Klaus Mikaelson come face-to-face at the Victoria Secret Fashion Show but this isn't the first time they've met.

Beauty and the Beat

Part 1: Angel of the Morning

Miami Beach, Florida - Present Day - December 2017

"This is Amber Daly reporting live from the Fontainebleau Hotel in Miami where anticipation is building backstage with only three hours until showtime. As you can see behind me some of the gorgeous Angels are already in hair and make-up, preparing for this evening."

"So, what do we have in store for this special twentieth Victoria Secret Fashion show, Amber? Given last year's extravaganza with guest performers Taylor Swift and Fallout Boy, there's a lot to live up to tonight."

"Not only do we have some of the most beautiful women and pieces of lingerie on show but this year British Band The Originals, will be rocking the catwalk. They are currently on a worldwide tour promoting their new album Blood Thirsty, which recently topped the charts in twenty-eight countries, including the US. If anyone is going to get this party started, it's definitely these guys."

"They've certainly made a name for themselves and not just for their music, Amber."

"Well, it's no secret these boys are all absolutely gorgeous, especially my favourite lead singer Klaus Mikaelson. Plus, we all know they like to party."

"And I'm sure tonight will be no different. It's certainly exciting knowing that our favourite angels will grace the catwalk including the stunning Caroline Forbes. Surely she's considered a veteran by now?"

"Maybe in modelling terms. This is her third show and I'm fairly certain it won't be her last given just how loved she is in this tight knit Victoria Secret Family."

"I suppose the big question and rather large elephant in the room is how you think she's going to go with her ex-boyfriend singing while she's modelling?"

"From what I know of these two they are both extremely professional. I guess we're just going to have to wait and see but every single camera will be on them tonight and everyone knows the camera doesn't lie."

"I can't wait, Amber. We'll check in with you later."

As the TV camera was finally lowered, Caroline had to fight the urge not to roll her eyes. Yes, it was all part of the theatrics on the day but every once and a while it would have been nice to get ready in peace. 

She also would have preferred not to hear about Klaus bloody Mikaelson yet again. She knew he was performing but it kind of felt like the media were trying to rub her nose in that fact.

"You okay, roomie?" Bonnie asked, rubbing her arm comfortingly.

"I have a mind to stomp on his foot with my stiletto as I walk by and that's only the beginning," Katherine promised.

Caroline knew she was lucky to have her best friends and fellow angels at her side during this difficult time. The Victoria Secret Show had been hers and hers alone the past few years but now Klaus of all people had to come and ruin her parade. 

Caroline had no intention of letting him get to her though. She just hoped that as she wiggled her hips seductively down that catwalk in her brief panties and bra set that he wished he'd never messed with her.

Dubrovnik, Croatia - 7 years ago - July

"God save our gracious Queen. Long live our noble Queen. God save the Queen. Send her victorious, happy and glorious. Long to reign over us, God save the Queen."

Caroline awoke with a start, the strains of the British National Anthem wafting into her room at this ungodly hour. Yes, she was travelling across Europe for some fun and excitement but being woken up by some clearly drunken singers, no matter their raw talent, wasn't too pleasant.

She groaned, placing her pillow over her head, trying to block it out but it was clear after ten minutes that the noise wasn't going to abate anytime soon. She heard her roommate and best friend Katherine groan in frustration nearby. At least Caroline wasn't the only one to lose some sleep tonight.

"What the hell is that?"

"It's supposedly singing Katherine," she murmured.

"Someone thinks they're a comedian," she muttered into her pillow. "Caroline, make it stop!"

"And why is it my job to do that?" Caroline baulked, sitting up and glancing at her friend on the neighbouring bed. 

After High School ended they decided to travel Europe for the summer, desperate to see everything after being stuck in little, old Mystic Falls all these years. Their experiences soaking up diverse cultures had been phenomenal so far but tonight's interruption wasn't so welcome, especially given they were due to depart for Prague in a few hours.

"You're just such a good organiser, Care," she mumbled, her eyes still firmly closed.

"That I might be but crowd control isn't my specialty," she insisted, pushing away the covers and walking towards the window to scope out the party crashers. 

She separated the blinds taking in the activity at the pool below. Four males wading waist deep in the water were clinking beer glasses and singing along loudly still, a few bikini clad girls were swimming nearby. Apparently some people enjoyed their entertainment, go figure.

"Oh come on, you're the Sheriff's daughter. You have that whole reprimanding tone down."

"I am not that bad," she scoffed, finally averting her gaze from the window.

"I hate to break it to you BFF but yes you are," she said. "If anyone is going to listen to your nagging, it's going to be those idiots." 

Caroline wasn't quite sure whether to take that as a compliment or not. However she barrelled onto the balcony, momentarily forgetting that she was wearing a fitted singlet and the briefest pair of shorts. Caroline decided to blame that on the sticky, summer weather and her forced insomnia.

"Could you keep it down?" She yelled, making them all look upwards. 

Caroline was trying to ignore just how gorgeous the curly, haired blonde looked as he inspected her closely, his blue eyes flickering over her body slowly. She hadn't noticed those crimson lips or those dimples earlier but Caroline had to admit they were throwing her off balance slightly.

"Instead of yelling like a banshee, how about you come down and join us instead, darling?" A cocky brunette replied. 

Caroline moved her gaze between them, realising all of the guys were extremely good looking, Caroline had no intention of giving into their charms though.

"I have much better things to do than listen to bad singing at this time of the morning."

"Like what?" The blonde answered, those lips curving into a knowing smile as he regarded her lazily.

"Sleeping," she growled, trying to ignore his hungry looks. "So if you'll excuse me." 

As she attempted to make her way inside, Caroline heard the strum of a guitar and a loud call from below."Oh, I know why she's a little upset," he yelled. "We're singing the wrong song, boys." 

As Caroline closed the door she couldn't mistake the opening strains of the Star Spangled Banner from below. It was hard not to smile as she laid back in her bed. Caroline had never heard it sung so well, not that she would ever tell them that.

On FF HERE