#and his eyes in particular get so soft and twinkly here

[ingravinoveritas]

Michael Sheen as the bloodhound:

Who else needs The Vet Detective with David Tennant and Michael Sheen? :D 🙋

[arhvste]

KOZUME KENMA - WORK OF ART

request - could it be possible to get a kenma fic/scenario where his gf or girl crush is an artist and often draws him- probably hides it n testu or someone finds it and shows him so now they go on lip dates where kenma just plays his games and she draws him just like extra fluffy if you can I love kenma so much 🥺🥺🥺 if it’s too much then just something fluffy with ken ! thank you!

warnings - none

an - thank you for the request anon i just know kuroo the little shit would show his best friend all the drawings he finds 😈

-

classes were boring enough as it is but learning about the history or hiragana? what was the need? 

sitting by the window seat, you had the obvious choice to stare outside the glass as class dragged along but you hardly found yourself looking outside at the window. instead, you would look and admire a classmate of yours.

kozume kenma.

he was one of the prettiest boys you’d ever seen. even his actions were so delicate and gentle to which would encourage the light butteries in your stomach to flutter a little more while you watched him. it wasn’t long before you found yourself sketching the bleached haired boy.

you were an avid artist with a beautiful talent. drawing kenma seemed a little out of your comfort zone at first. when you noticed you’d been sketching him for a few weeks you tried to consciously stop yourself, you didn’t want to feel like a creep who would just stare and draw someone. these sketches captured the boy’s calmness perfectly though and you found you couldn’t help yourself but continue, even deciding to add more detail into particular pieces you liked.

you told yourself that you were just using him as inspiration. you weren't infatuated with the boy, just inspired. no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself of this though, you found yourself enjoying drawing him more than anyone or anything else bringing you to the conclusion that yes, maybe you were perhaps a little smitten with him. not that you’d ever let him find out though.

-

your sketch book was littered with an assortment of drawings. some finished down to the smallest detailed and others half done, lazily sketched and yet to be completed. kenma took up most of the occupation of the pages though. surrounded by statues, flowers and other pretty things you often drew kenma as the centre piece for all your pages.

the drawings you skillfully created depended on your mood and kenma’s mood on the day. some days, kenma would be struggling to keep his concentration on the lesson going on in front of him, other days he’d be almost interested and looked as if he was putting more effort into his work. your most favourite days, were ones where kenma was lazily interested in the lesson. he would often propt is chin under his hand, eyes prettily fluttering occasionally while trying to stay awake (probably sleep deprived from excessive hours of gaming) and he would sometimes even use a thin black bobby pin to pin his long hair out of his face to stop his field of vision from closing in tempting him to fall into a slumber in the midst of class. those days were your favourite. he looked extra pretty.

today just happened to be one of those days as you gazed at kenma who at this moment had his hair messily pinned out of his face, eyes drooping every so often with the setters head dropping ever so slightly every time he felt the weight of sleep too heavy to handle. one hand placed under his chin, keeping his head from completely falling onto the desk and the other weakly holding his pen as he attempted to keep up with the classes notes.

you wanted to draw him in this moment really, but you did happen to feel bad for the blonde. he was obviously struggling to keep his head clear enough to focus so you decided now was a good opportunity to step out of your comfort zone a little.

“kozume-san? you whispered ever so gently.

kenma’s eyes widened slightly at the sound of his voice being called. he tilted his head in you direction and blinked his twinkly golden eyes at you

“hm?”

“d-do you want me to uh keep up with your notes for you?”

kenma’s eyes softened at the sound of your gentle voice.

“why would you want to do that l/n?”

“i can see you’re struggling to stay focused. we sit near the back and the teacher isn't interested in looking in our direction. you can catch up on a bit of sleep - o-only if you want though you don't have to!”

you knew you were blushing now. maybe you should’ve just minded your own business but in a split second you knew it was all worth it.

kenma gave you a small but genuine smile. fuck. it was so pretty. he was so pretty. his smile wasn’t blinding no, more of a gentle angelic glowing light that warms ones heart. the rare sort of golden light that can only be captured in a small time window each day and only through clear skies. you had made kozume kenma smile and you knew you were right to have stepped out your comfort zone.

“you’re observant. its much appreciated l/n, thank you. let me know how i can repay you after.”

his soft voice heavy with sleep sent the butteries in your stomach to go off in a frenzy. his delicate hands handed you his class book and he blushed so lightly it wasn't even noticeable at the subtle contact of your fingers brushing past each other.

he gave you a gentle nod as he laid his head down gently on his desk and gave into the strong craving to fall into a sleep.

drawing and writing were two things that came naturally to you. you were able at completing both tasks at a quick speed but you did it so flawlessly. you took a shy pride in your notes and classwork as you did with your drawings. both aesthetically pleasing to look at, but full of appropriate and useful content.

writing kenma’s notes alongside yours wouldn’t be a problem to you.

however, this would cause one in the unbeknownst future to you.

-

class ended about 50 minutes after you had encouraged kenma to have a small sleep. classmates were closing their notebooks and packing up their things. you gently tapped the sleeping setters shoulder with notes in your hand.

after a few taps the boy slowly lifted his head and gently rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. your heart melted at the sight of his eyes flickering while adjusting to the light. the slightly darkened sun depicting his eyes as gold speckled pools of honey, his nose scrunched up as he allowed his body to wake up. was there ever a time this boy was ugly? he seemed to be attractive doing everything, it wasn’t fair.

taking the book from your hands he nodded and gave you a shy smile.

“thank you, l/n. please tell me how i can repay you”

“oh! please don't worry about it! you looked like you needed a recharge i’m just happy you were able to do just that.”

“you’re a kind person l/n. but don’t hesitate to let me know if you ever need a favour.”

and with that, the setter packed up the few papers he had been resting on and then slightly bowing at you before heading out the door most likely to get ready for practice.

you smiled to yourself and headed out your classroom to leave for home knowing you had done a good deed for the day and you had happened to have your first direct interaction with the boy you’d been delicately sketching for the past couple of months.

-

“kenma! you’re 2 minutes and 38 seconds later than usual! we can't afford to have the brain of the team slacking.” kuroo teased his best friend with an irritating smile.

“was talking to a classmate. she helped keep me up with the class notes.” kenma spoke boredly as he set his bag down so he could change into his gym clothes.

“notes eh? offended you wouldn't just ask me for help. this feels like betrayal.” 

kenma rolled his eyes at his friend’s childish behaviour and dug through his bag to look for his clothes.

“the offer was there so i just took it. besides, l/n’s handwriting is much more eligible than yours.”

“ouch. are they as detailed though?”

“probably even more.”

“i don’t believe you.”

“look for yourself.” kenma shrugged nodding towards his schoolbag.

kuroo wandered over to kenma’s bag and pulled the classwork book out.

“uh yeah i guess these are pretty ne- oHOHO what do we have here?”

kuroos eyes danced over the pages, a shit eating grin spreading across his face.

“i hate when you pull that face what’s wrong with you?” kenma’s disgusted face looked up at kuroo who looked like he was having an internal field day.

“l/n eh? i think someones got a little crush on you kenma.”

“what?”

kuroo turned the book around to show the pages to kenma who’s eye widened.

there was the pages you had littered with beautifully depicted drawings of kenma. 

both boys were silent as kenma’s eyes scanned over the pages.

“no reaction? personally i’d be flattered if someone drew me that much and with such good detail too.”

kenma was still processing all the drawings as a million possible reasons for why you’d drawn him so much ran though his head.

did you think he was attractive?

was it a crush like kuroo had teased?

did you just need a reference and he just so happened to be there?

were the drawings actually him or were they just someone scarily similar?

“sooooo... you gonna talk to her then?”

kuroo smiled teasingly at the now blushing setter.

“i’ll just give this back to her. it’s obviously personal and she might even explain herself when she sees that i have her book.”

kuroo shrugged and put the book back in kenma’s bag. 

“i think it’s cute kenma, take my advice, you should take the opportunity to get to know her a little, she's obviously interested in you.”

kenma snorted at his friends words slightly as he begun to follow him out the changing rooms and into the gym to join the rest of the team.

“ironic the relationship virgin is giving me advice.”

kuroo could only roll his eyes and laugh.

“to think you’d be the one to get a girl first, in my defence i’m too busy for relationships.”

“okay mr docosahexaenoic acid, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

-

you had just arrived home and you felt the weight of the day lift itself off of you as you threw your shoes off and dropped your bag to the floor in your bedroom.

you bag tipped over with some of the contents spilling out causing you to huff but get up and pick it up anyway.

then you saw it.

your heart dropped.

“fuck.”

‘kozume kenma’ was written on the front of one of your classwork books. how had you been so stupid in getting them mixed up.

you began to panic and think of solutions to this fresh dilemma.

“maybe i should just tell him that i just like him nows a chance? no that's stupid why would i do that? i’ll just tell him it’s a model that just looks similar to him. no, that’s not believable is it? fuck it. i’m moving country.”

you screamed into your pillow but then stopped when you remembered something. 

kenma was in practice right now. there’s no way he could’ve opened the book and bothered checking the work right? why would he bother doing that?

you checked the time on your phone. 3:28pm. you still had a while until practice was over. that would be more than enough time to go into the changing rooms and swap the books before anyone notices. and even if he had opened the book already, when he saw his book was back in his bag, you could easily play it off as if he had dreamt the drawings up as he would’ve just woken up and still been drowsy.

you wasted no time grabbing your shoes and the book to sprint out the door. school wasn’t too far from your house, a 17 minute walk to be exact. your legs started to ache at the sudden intense action of you sprinting like your life depended on it. well, your life did depend on it. if kenma saw them and thought you were weird, what were you to do then? dropping out of school seemed like the most reasonable option.

finally reaching the gates you caught your breath. getting to school was a 17 minute walk but a 9 minute run. once you gathered your thoughts you quietly approached the gym to peek inside. there the team were training and focused on the court. going in through the front of the school and walking through the halls to get to the changing rooms through the back way, you gripped the book tightly as you got to the boys changing rooms.

a quiet prayer was muttered before entering. the changing room was surprisingly clean and didn't smell like over sprayed deodorant and excessive sweat like you’d imagined. you let out a sigh of relief as you scanned the room for kenma’s stuff before noticing it at the end of the room.

“just in and out.” you muttered under your breath as you walked swiftly over to the setter’s belongings

digging through kenma’s stuff proved to be quite stressful. you were so focused on not getting caught, you failed to noticed the door separating the gym and changing rooms open.

“uh l/n?”

you jumped and turned your head to the owner of the voice.

there stood a slight sweaty and tired looking kenma who had offered to return to the changing rooms to grab one of yaku’s extra kneepads.

“uhhh i can explain.. our books got um mixed up and i uh well -”

“you’re talented you know.” kenma gave you a small almost ghost smile.

your face instantly heated up at the small praise the boy had given you.

“w-what?”

“the drawings. i must say, i was surprised when i saw them but, you have talent y/n and... i don’t mind if you keep drawing me...”

kenma’s shy persona caused the last part to come out so quietly you almost didn't hear him.

“i’ll keep that in mind.” you smiled as you approached kenma to give him his book back.

he muttered a quiet thanks and went through his own bag to fish you out your book to give back to you. the tension was awkward but not heavy enough to drive either of you away instantly. both of you holding back in anticipation waiting for one of you to talk.

“so um, do you wanna maybe go out sometime? you don’t have to.”

your eyes softened again as you shyly nodded.

“i would like that kozume-san.”

“kenma. call me kenma.”

-

months had passed since then. you found you had things in common with the setter and found his neutral presence calming. he wasn’t too loud or in your face but he also wasn’t completely extroverted to the point where you’d sit in awkward silence like people often assumed he was like. 

you had met his team and family and they all welcomed you with open arms eager to get to know the girl who had drawn kenma not only on paper but drawn him out of his comfort zone gently. 

the two of you weren’t big on going out on dates. you would both often opt to stay in and enjoy each other’s company. kenma would game and you would draw, the two of you engaging in soft and relaxing conversation. kenma would never admit it out loud, but he loved the days where you would draw him. he would act like he was too immersed in his game to notice you sketching away but he felt a sense of pride in him whenever he noticed you using him as your model.

you had grown more confident in yourself and often allowed kenma to see your drawings. you decided since you were using him as your reference, the least you could do was show him how you portrayed him and every time he would compliment and praise you for your work.

“you know i’m glad i felt extra tired that one day you offered to do my notes.”

you hummed and looked up at your boyfriend.

“yeah? i’m just gad you weren’t weirded out by my book.”

kenma offered a gentle smile at you.

“weirded out? i was taken aback but not weirded out. i was ever so slightly flattered even. thank you for seeing some sort of beauty in me.”

brushing his hair out of his face you smiled softly as you leaned closer to his face to whisper your final words before pressing a delicate kiss to his lips.

“no, thank you for being a work of art.”

[yelenasdog]

romance and espionage (eggsy unwin x fem reader)

genre: fluff w/ whole lotta angst

summary: who knew names could be such a touchy subject?

words: 2.4k

warnings: literally saying fuck everyother sentence, kissing, golden circle spoilers (is that a thing? idk), mentions of harry’s supposed death, mentions of roxy’s death, guns, and i think thats it.

ok, all my cm moots don’t judge me. 

a/n: ight so uhh as i’m posting this i’m finding out taron is an incel so that’s kinda oW but uhh i haven’t seen the secret service, i just rewatched the golden circle the other night and hyperfixated on taron so... uh here’s this LMAO. also! this takes place after the golden circle, and reader took roxy’s spot as lancelot. ok enjoy!!

♔♂♔

“God, Eggsy, would you quiet down?!”

He snarled meanly in a way that could make Bennie and Jet’s metallic forms cower in fear, his thin lips turning into a grimace.

“Don't call me that here. It’s Galahad, and Galahad only.”

The other agent only scoffed, rolling her eyes.

Lancelot’s surroundings were dark, although quite stunning nonetheless. It was clear and starry night sky, perfect for romance, the worst for espionage. The air felt so refreshing on her skin, allowing her to feel free in some way, even just for a moment, which she savoured, as a feeling such as that was rare in her line of work.

Now, if the girl had been with someone other than the annoying, prickish, and (even though it pained her to the highest degree to say it) handsome fellow, she maybe would have tried to have a little fun to pass the time. Maybe fool around a bit, fraternize with a coworker, eh?

But alas, ever the one with amazing luck, she was stuck with him. 

Which meant rather than perhaps getting crescent shaped markings on her hips from a quick rondevu under the indigo sky and sparkling stars, so roughly placed to match the moon that hung in it, she was crouching uncomfortably, only wishing that the former scenario was taking place.

 Not that she meant with fucking Eggsy, of course.

Well ok, maybe, just a tad.

“Fine, have it your way, Galahad.” She flailed her arms about in a jazz hand motion, making the blondy roll his twinkly eyes in a boyish manner. She fought the urge to grin widely, a warm feeling blooming in her chest, even at his obvious arrogance and upset towards her.

She wanted to blame his feelings towards her on her being a freshmen agent, recruited right after the convergence of Kingsman and Statesman in an effort to rebuild the organization. She had been childhood friends with Roxy, who had long ago tried to get Y/n to join the agency. When faced with her friend’s death, she wanted to honor her wishes, even if this wish was a little, well, extreme.

He only sighed in response to Y/n, tapping the side of his thick rimmed glasses twice.

Y/n’s eyes followed his hands as he did so, enjoying what she was seeing a great amount. She bit her bottom lip subconsciously, losing all focus that was there to begin with.

“Lancelot? Lancelot? For fucks sake, Y/n!”

She snapped her head up, her eyes becoming magnified even further through the faux tortoise shell glasses that Unwin would never admit framed her face wonderfully.

No, not a chance.

He wouldn’t dare even let the thought about how the soft skin of her freckled nose looked even more kissable, her eyes even more full of depth and wonder, or how kind and sweet she looked when she tucked a stray strand of hair away from her face. All because of the damned glasses. Never.

So rather, he settled for pointing over to where the subject of their stakeout was now standing, gun in hand as he conversed with one of his comrades.

But although her body followed his, listening to his directions, most of the information was going in one ear out the other, her brilliant mind occupied by a certain agent and his endeavors.

She was hard in thought, wondering about names of all things. A simple subject, easy to address, you would think. But apparently it was not so, not at all.

You see, Eggsy never had called Y/n by her name. It was always either “Lancelot”, or “Agent”, Y/n only being used for the exception of if he needed to quickly grab her attention.

And on the flip side, she was never allowed to call him anything other than Galahad. Agent was sparse, it put her on very thin ice, close to splitting at any second with no prior notice.

Now obviously, with Y/n being Y/n, she was determined to crack his rough exterior, despite however much he presented himself as “unbreakable”. (His words, not hers.) So, much to his displeasure, she often called out a quick “Oi, Unwin!”, or a “Jesus, Eggsy!” whenever he got in her way, which usually resulted in a similar distasteful glance to what she was recieving now being shot in her direction.

“Alright, Eggsy, I’m thinking that his partner is-“ She used her glasses X-Ray feature, confirming her suspicions. “The partner is in the abandoned pharmacy across the street, should we wait or go now?” He was silent, staring straight ahead, scrutinizing nothing in particular with a stare that was set in stone. 

She whistled lowly, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Eggsyyy-“

“Lancelot, would you shut the hell up! Don’t fucking call me that!” He stood up, leaving a vulnerable feeling Y/n in his wake.

Y/n’s jaw was suddenly like it was wired shut. She was paralyzed, unable to speak, only keeping her gaze fixated on Galahad.

“Look, I’m sorry-“

“Yeah, well good, then! When will you ever learn, we’re not friends, nor will we ever be. Get it through you’re fuckin’ head. It’s like you think you’re Roxy or some shit-“

Sadness and guilt turned to anger rather quickly for Y/n at his unfortunate choice of words.

“Stop it! Would you please, just stop it! For fucks sake!” Her voice was harsh, something he never would had never expected out of Y/n. Tears sprung into her eyes, and her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, no doubt drawing crimson liquid in the process. She tasted iron on her tongue, feeling it seep into her taste buds.

“Lancelo-“

“Fucking hell, shut the fuck up! Really, please, Galahad, listen to me, for once in your life.” She was the one who shot up, inching closer to him with every word. The sticks and leaves crunched under her feet, causing her to cringe at the sound, hoping it didn’t alert the targets.

He nodded solemnly, his jaw locking up, and his hands she had been admiring only seconds before clamped into fists at his sides.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, Harry’s words of “remember your training” ringing through her head. She internally began chanting it like a mantra of sorts.

But if she was being honest, she couldn't quite remember a chapter in the Kingsman handbook (that she most definitely did read during training) that talked about emotional distress due to your coworker who you’re extremely attracted to calling you only by your dead best friend's name, but hey, who knows.

“I know I'm not Roxy. Nobody else could ever be Roxy. I know that, you know that, hell, she knew that. And I would say that you have no idea how it feels to be reminded of one of your closest friends who is dead every time someone calls you by a name that feels as if it isn’t your own, but you do, Galahad. Or you did. But now Harry is back and- and Roxy, well Roxy is gone!”

A single tear slipped out of her left eye. The agent in front of her felt a strong urge wipe away the tears he now felt guilty for playing a large part in. But he resisted, his hands remaining stuck to his side.

“So why would you do this? Say these things, act this way, when you know I have to live every day with you for some reason calling me Lancelot in every situation and me having to call you Galahad all the same! Maybe I shouldn’t have stepped up to be Lancelot when Roxy was killed, if I can’t handle it, can’t handle the dehumanization that comes with only being known as an emotionless fuckin’ agent to you.” 

She stopped, hanging her head. She looked over to the flickering neon lights of the pharmacy, watching the outlines of the targets move around.

“I honestly have no idea if any of that made sense, or if I’m just rambling, I don’t fucking have the slightest idea what the fuck I’m even doing anymore.” Her voice got significantly more quiet, her sentences reduced to mumbles.

Aside from the target and his partners yelling at each other, it was so silent you could hear a pin drop.

His usually stern tone he took with the girl was softer now as he spoke, “You made perfect sense.”

She gave him a half smile before continuing, feeling oddly validated by his words. 

“But what I’m trying to say, Galahad, is that I’m a fucking human being. I have a life outside of this Godforsaken job, and-and emotions, too! I mean, I might even have kids that you don’t know about!”

He internally rolled his eyes, yet again fighting another urge, this time to smile widely at Y/n. Weird.

“Do you have kids I don’t know about-“

“Of course I don’t!”

They shared a short laugh as their words overlapped, harmonizing in a sweet way, their voices like thick and golden honey. Weird.

The two were then succumbed to a blanket of comfortable silence, but only for a short moment before the hushed whispers of Unwin’s voice were heard.

“D’you wanna know why?”

Y/n cocked her head, beckoning him to go on with whatever it was he was going to say. “Why what?”

“Why I only call you Lancelot, why I don’t let you call me Eggsy.”

She nodded, sitting down once more and tucking her leg under her chin in a manner that Eggsy found endearing and adorable. It distracted him slightly, but not long enough for his starry eyed staring to become creepy. Not that Y/n would have it in her capacity to ever think that of him, if she was being honest.

“If I start to think of you as ‘Y/n’, rather than Lancelot things get too real. If you hurt, o-or if you get kidnapped, or God forbid- die.” He momentarily paused, looking up to meet Y/n’s eyes.

“It would make it all too real. I can’t do that, Y/n. After what happened to Harry and then Roxy, and everyone else,” he shook his head, his expression showing him close to crying at the thought of what he was speaking of.

“I can’t lose you too.”

It was like her soul had become visibly lighter, feeling an unimaginable relief flood throughout her system at his proclamation. She was able to come down from her, so to say, “high” almost as soon as she had started it, placing her hands on his, using them as leverage to pull herself up.

“You can’t be so afraid, Galahad. You gotta, you know,” she shrugged, offering him a small smile.

“Live a little.” She moved to look down to meet his eyes where his head was suspended in shame, forcing him to look back up.

“And also, try not to let your fear turn you into a dick, which is by all means just a suggestion.” Y/n laughed at the last bit, smiling and glancing to the side slightly.

They both shared a second laugh together, and it seemed as if for a short while, time stopped. It was just the two of them, features illuminated by the pale moonlight. No target, no saving the world, nothing. Just them. 

So he reached forward, unsure if what he was doing was the right thing, just like always. The damn question of righteousness was engrained in his brain, restricting him like it did majority of the time. But for once, he decided to disregard it in it’s entirety.

So throwing all caution to the wind, unable to contain himself any longer, he closed the small gap left between the two, connecting their lips in a long awaited kiss.

One of his hands flew to the side of her face, the other wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer with a squeal. He laughed into the union, and she only smiled. One of her hands went to entangle itself with his on her waist, the other resting on his shoulder.

She could smell his cologne that he most definitely should not have been wearing per Kingsman on the job regulations, and welcomed the scent, doing her best to commit it to memory, a permanent reminder of what it felt like to be so close to the man.

After what seemed like a long time (but never long enough, honestly) they pulled away, panting for breath. Their foreheads rested on each other’s, the cool night air flowing around them, calming the pair completely.

Still struggling to catch his breath, Eggsy reached forward, taking both of her hands. He ran small circles over her knuckles in a way that made her heart flutter, before dropping them gently, reaching a hand out.

“Let's start over.”

She giggled and widely grinned, and he swore it was becoming his favorite thing in existence when she would do either of those wondrous things.

“Come on, put her there.” He shook his hand slightly making a silly face as well, widening his eyes and looking back and forth from his hand and her face. She placed it in his, proudly smirking as she did so. Their shiny rings clanged, which resulted in another small giggle errupting from her throat.

 He shook it back and forth, a sly smile painting itself on his lips. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Eggsy Unwin.”

She quirked an eyebrow, retracting her hand momentarily, letting it linger in the air.

“Eggsy, hmm? Bit of an odd name, don’t you think?”

He scoffed, placing his hand over his heart in false offense.

“Well if it’s so bad, what’s yours then?”

“Y/n Y/l/n.”

He looked to his feet momentarily, lifting his hands on either side of his head. “I digress, you win.”

She bit her bottom lip again, wincing as she hit the same spot from before. She ran her tongue over it, breathing out quickly.

“I’m not so sure. I think Eggsy is growing on me.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah.”

They smiled at each other like lovesick teenagers, still lost within the moment.

And although the bubble of ignorant bliss they were in was something the two of them never wanted to leave, it was sadly inevitable that it would be popped at some point in time.

And almost like an alarm to wake them up from a beautiful dream, gunfire was able to be heard ringing throughout the building across the way.

They pulled apart with a groan coming from Y/n, and a “For fucks sake” from Eggsy. With displeasure lacing their expressions, they began to run towards the pharmacy when Y/n felt a hand tug at her wrist.

“Y/n wait!”

Her eyes widened as she looked at him as if he was a mad man, only slowing to a backwards jog. She gestured around her to the burst of red and orange explosions that were now going off around her, screaming “What?!”

He sprinted to catch up with her forcing her to come to a complete stop with a firm hold on her shoulders.

“Eggsy, come on! Lets go- Ah!”

He cut her off with a firm kiss, gripping the sides of her head, scrunching his fingers in her hair. She let a small moan slip out at the feeling, which he responded to by chuckling. He then pulled away, a shit eating grin written on his face. 

She stood in shock, unable to move from her place. He started running, turning over his shoulder.

“Come on, Y/n, keep up!”

Not focusing on where he was going, he tripped over himself, letting out a small yell of surprise. Y/n laughed loudly, going to chase after him with a miniscule shake of her head at his antics.

But nonetheless, the only thing going through Y/n’s mind during that situation that should have been horrifying, was that maybe she was wrong all this time.

Romance and espionage did go well together, especially when it was with Y/n and Eggsy.

♔♂♔

hello!!! so this was a multi-fandom account to begin with anyways so honestly i feel like i should start a seperate masterlist for “hj’s hyperfixations”. but yah this was my first fic for him and idk if i’ll do another but i hope u enjoyed this! also it’s my bday tomorrow (sept 7th) so this is a self indulgent fic. as a treat. ok love u bye!

xx hj

also avery asked me to tag her so @spideyspencer​ LMAO i’m so sorry for this mess.

[masterweaverx]

Pit Stop

"So you hear about that Ruby transmission?"

Cinnamon chuckled. "It's all anybody's talking about," she said as she handed a plate to him. "We only get spotty transmission out here, you know."

"Yeah, I know, but... still." The customer laughed a little awkwardly. "Atlas being under attack, magic being real, this... Salem person... It's a lot."

Cinnamon nodded, looking around the pub. It wasn't anything too fancy, they were just a village after all, but it was an informal gathering spot for both the villagers themselves and travelers just passing through. Some tables had people clustered around them, while others had but a single customer apiece; it wouldn't have been anything unusual if it weren't for the hushed murmurings and occasional glances northward.

"Well, it's only been about a day, right?" Cinnamon reassured the man. "They're probably still holding out up there."

"...right." The man took his fork and began poking at the food in front of him.

Cinnamon sighed, heading back behind the counter. It was a slow day... which, given what that Ruby girl had said, was only to be expected. The casual vibe of the pub didn't really gel with the tension in the air; even the stress drinkers had just dropped by, bought a bottle or two, and walked out. She could see some of her customers eyeing the kegs.

Just scrub the glasses, she told herself. Scrub the glasses and look calm and relaxed. She wasn't a huntress, but damned if she didn't know the importance of image in keeping negativity down...

They'd get updates, eventually. Probably from some force heading up from Vale. Or... maybe, if things were really horrible, from some Atlesian refugees. No matter what, it would take a few days.

She couldn't help worrying, of course, who wouldn't be worried, but it wasn't like she could make time move faster. It had only been a day, after all.

There was a strange sound from outside, an oddly growling hiss. For a moment Cinnamon gripped her cleaning rag tighter. There would have been shouts from the lookouts if Grimm were approaching, right? Unless they'd been so rattled by the transmission that they forgot to--

--no. Even with that message, they wouldn't have abandoned their posts. They didn't during the fall of Beacon, after all.

"Somebody's just messing with burn Dust," she suggested casually, to nobody in particular. "Probably just a few teens... hopped up on bravery and wanting to go fight monsters in Atlas, you know?"

There were a few chuckles, but they were strained. The sort that were made by obligation--

One of the customers, leaning to peer out a window, jumped back with a yelp. "It's--! There's a Grimm woman!" he gasped. "It's gotta be Salem!"

Another customer rolled her eyes with a nervous chuckle. "Okay, you've probably had a bit too much to drink--"

Twinkli-linki-link...

Cinnamon looked at the door as it swung open, and her breath caught in her throat. The figure that practically glided in was breathtaking, in the same way a Sea Feilong was; tall, elegant, pristine, and as clearly capable of slaughter as any Grimm she could name. Her black dress, lined with red, certainly made her look like one; it was a resemblance only furthered by her bone-white hair and skin. Purplish veins crawled up her arms and under her sleeves, reemerging round her neck to frame a pair of dark eyes--utterly black, save for the rings of red that ross from their shadowy depths.

One hand was wrapped around an ornate golden staff, which was capped with a blue gem. The other, bearing a ring that resembled nothing so much as a beetle, gestured around the room surprisingly gently.

"I see you have a table available."

It took Cinnamon a couple of seconds to process that. She looked to see that, yes, there was an empty table--there were quite a few, in fact. "Ah... so I do," she replied, voice quavering.

"I believe we will take it. If you would be so kind...?"

Cinnamon put down her glass, quickly reemerging from the bar. "Right this way, ma'am," she said automatically.

The tall woman walked past her, and only then did Cinnamon register the second woman following behind her. The gold-embroidered black garb she wore was short but elegant, much like the hair covering her eyepatch. In fact, she almost looked like a freshly graduated huntress; if it weren't for the fact her left arm consisted of Grimm flesh and the way her amber eye produced literal fire, Cinnamon wouldn't have any idea why she'd be smugly trailing after the bone-white woman.

She shared a nervous look with one of the customers, flicking her eyes toward the door. The man's eyes widened, and he nodded subtly, casually walking out as the new pair seated themselves.

"...So." Cinnamon said, forcing her fear out of her voice. "What will it be?"

"Oh, nothing too much," the pale woman assured her. "A small meal will suffice."

The younger woman frowned for a moment, but nodded. "Perhaps... do you have fish and chips?" she asked.

Cinnamon almost said no, out of habit, but cut herself off. "We... have a salmon soup," she offered hesitantly. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the other customers quietly filing out.

"Hmm." The younger woman shakes her head. "I'd prefer something more... solid."

"Would a chicken sandwich do the trick?" Cinnamon offered.

The younger woman nodded. "I think it would, actually."

"And..." Cinnamon turned to the beautiful violation of all she had ever thought she'd known. "What will it be for you, ma'am?"

The Grimm woman smiled wryly. "I don't suppose you serve the souls of the innocent here."

"No ma'am. Innocence is a rare commodity these days."

The younger woman actually smirked at that. "Isn't it though."

"Well... perhaps I shall have the salmon soup," the woman offered.

"Of course." Cinnamon took a quick look around the pub; it was almost empty now, save for one horrified customer staring at the scene. She turned back to the pair. "It might be a minute."

"We have all the time in the world."

Cinnamon nodded, heading around the bar. "Get out of here," she hissed to the last customer as she passed.

"You're just serving them--?"

"The longer they're here the longer you have to get to Vale, now move!"

The customer blinked twice, before her eyes widened. She vacated her table with haste, rushing out the door.

"I'm beginning to think the locals don't like us," the younger woman noted calmly.

Shit.

"Ah, it's nothing too much," Cinnamon assured her as she went behind the counter. "Just a bit nervous about celebrities visiting our little village."

"Celebrities?"

Cinnamon very carefully put the pot of soup on the stove, stirring it slowly. "You didn't catch the transmission?"

"Ah," said the bone-white woman. "So, Ruby Rose's message did reach the outside world."

"Whole world, if I heard right." Cinnamon set aside a plate, carefully putting together a sandwich.

"Wait, what transmission?" The young woman looked from Cinnamon to the other. "Was that what Penny was doing with Amity?"

"It was," the bone-white woman replied. "If I recall, you were unconscious at the time."

The younger woman stiffened... and then bowed her head. "I... yes, master. I made an error in judgment."

"Mmm..." The bone-white woman put a hand on her shoulder. "Not all lessons can be taught gently, Cinder."

Cinnamon checked the soup, subtly activating the recording function on her scroll. "So, yeah. What happened after that anyway?"

The bone-white woman gave her a coy smile. "Now, why do you ask that?"

"I'm just a small village chef," Cinnamon replied, pouring the soup into a bowl. "Can't help but be curious about the outside world."

The younger woman--Cinder--examined her Grimm nails. "It was a very busy day in Atlas, honestly."

Cinnamon assembled the sandwich, taking the bowl and plate out to her customers. "I guess it'd have to be. Can I get you anything to drink?"

"I suppose I wouldn't mind a glass of wine," the bone-white woman allowed.

"Just water for me," Cinder added.

"Of course." Cinnamon prepared the drinks, surreptitiously looking out the window. Entire families were loading up tightly in the delivery trucks, rolling out through the gates--

"Is something going on out there?"

"Farmers headed out to bale hay," Cinnamon lied smoothly. "Big deal for us small-town folk."

Cinder gave her a look as she put the glasses down. Cinnamon shrugged, retreating behind the counter.

For a minute or two, the only sounds came from Cinder and the other woman quietly eating. She could see how much Cinder savored every bite. And... the other one, she did seem to enjoy the wine, if the way her eyebrow quirked was anything to go by.

"...Three questions."

Cinnamon looked up, keeping a mask of calm even as her heart pounded.

"You have been an excellent host," the bone-white woman continued, "and you reek of fear. So. Three questions."

"Ah." Cinnamon glanced at her hidden scroll, still recording the entire conversation. "How's Atlas doing, you reckon?"

"Oh, it's flooded," Cinder replied casually. "Entire city."

Cinnamon blinked at her, almost opening her mouth--but, no, three questions. Atlas, flooded... well, it was a floating rock, for one. How could they get water up there? Even with a magic rainstorm... no, it didn't make sense. A city in the sky couldn't...

...unless...

Cinnamon swallowed carefully. "I see... what happened to the survivors?"

Cinder frowned, biting into her sandwich aggressively.

"Apparently miss Rose came up with a scheme to get them all to Vacuo," the bone-white woman replied, sipping at her soup. "Which, of course, means I'll be meeting them again fairly soon."

Her smile was far too soft for such a threat. It almost looked motherly, in a way.

Cinnamon felt her heart beating. She glanced out the window again. She couldn't see anybody.

"...How am I going to die?"

The bone-white woman turned to her, then. "Now that is certainly an interesting question. Especially as I don't have an answer. What do you think, Cinder?"

Cinder finished her sandwich, taking a long draft from her glass.

"I think she has options," she said eventually. "We could lock her in this building, weld the doors shut so she can't escape with the rest of her village. I could burn her to death, or freeze her. You could summon any number of Grimm, or even use magic."

"We might do nothing at all," the other woman mused. "Let nature take its course."

"...we could take her with us," Cinder offered. "Hazel was our primary chef, before... well, before."

The bone-white woman quirked a brow. "And how would we carry her?"

Cinder glanced at the staff. "We're not using that for anything right now. An airship would be easy."

The bone-white woman considered this. Cinnamon felt her hands trembling.

"...I will prepare the airship," the woman finally said, standing up. "You will help our new... associate gather what she needs."

Cinnamon flinched as Cinder stood up, quickly ending the recording and sending it out on broadcast. "I, uh, I'm... it might take me a few tries to get your food like you like it--"

The bone-white woman smiled at her. "Oh, don't worry. I have all the time in the world."

[slightlymore]

friends with benefits? part 1

genre: smut | series pairing: collegestudent!jaehyun x fem reader warnings: car intercourse | unprotected | alcohol  words: 2k

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

You met Jaehyun through a common friend. Although you’ve been seeing him around the college dormitory corridor, you’ve never spoken before. His room was the last one on the right, part of the “noisy” group of rooms your floor offered. There were four in total, all occupied by boys, and although they weren’t bad people, those rooms were never quiet. 

It was always fun to hang out with them, in fact, their doors were hardly ever closed and different people entered and got out of them at any given time. You talked to a few of the boys before since you shared a few classes and you were neighbours, but you never had the chance to talk to Jaehyun in particular. You knew he was studying Business and that he was a rather charming person, was good at basically anything from sports to cooking to music and that he was constantly single. Single didn’t mean alone, it meant that he was seen with a different person every day.

Your friend introduced you to him during a college party. It was a nice night, the music was good, there weren’t too many people to make you feel claustrophobic and you were actually enjoying the cocktails.

“Yes, I’ve seen you around before,” said Jaehyun shaking your hand. He had a warm smile, twinkly eyes and cute dimples. You could definitely see why he was so sought-after. His handshake was firm but friendly while the other hand hold onto the same cocktail that you’ve been drinking. He asked what were you studying and said that Marketing was his second choice, but was glad to have gotten into Business. His favourite painter was Monet and he didn’t read much fiction but enjoyed Donna Tartt’s books (“me too!” you replied excitedly). Of course, you would be glad to see the Goldfinch at the cinema with him, you said when he asked, and no, you weren’t really into sports but liked to go to the gym occasionally or on hikes. Yes, hikes are definitely funnier with some company rather than alone and yes, you were free next Sunday for a mountains trip with his friends. Only half an hour passed since you and Jaehyun started to talk in the corner of the club, but you already considered yourselves friends and had two plans for the week. It was surprising. You were usually social enough as well, but you’ve never been in such perfect harmony with someone before. It was easy to talk to Jaehyun, he was funny and open-minded. It was not a surprise that he was so popular.

“Why are you smiling?” asked Jaehyun after a while. You shook your head. “Nothing in particular. I’m just amused at how quickly I’ve opened myself with you” you replied. Jaehyun looked at you for a few seconds. “I thought you were naturally inclined in making new friends” “Not really,” you said before sipping your drink. “It usually takes me a while. I think that you’re just gifted in making people feel at ease”

Jaehyun smiled at the compliment. His cheeks were red from the alcohol and his dark eyes were fixed on your face. Yours, on the other hand, couldn’t look at his, and your gaze wandered on his neck, his black T-shirt, his bracelets on the wrist, his black, ripped jeans. You were tipsy, you could tell that, but you could control yourself. Or so you thought. Because when Jaehyun got one step closer, you suddenly were aware of your heart beating faster and your breath slightly irregular. Jaehyun’s hand touched yours lightly as if wanting to intertwine his fingers with yours and you couldn’t make sense of why. Then you remembered Jaehyun doing the same with other people, at other parties, and you realized that maybe he had other goals besides being friends with you, and you moved your hand away.

“I’m sorry,” he said, slightly startled as if he didn’t expect you to refuse his advances. “I might have read you wrong” he added. You didn’t know what to say. You did look at him with hungry eyes, and you did think about his reddish lips and his chest muscles and jawline and at how his hands would feel like on your skin, but you thought he wouldn’t realize. You felt slightly ashamed. Not only at the fact that you couldn’t hide your attraction, but also at the thought of feeling ashamed itself. Was it wrong to be another of Jaehyun’s prays? Maybe Jaehyun was one of your prays, who knows? What’s wrong in making out with a person you’ve just met? Why was your pride hurt? It was a stupid feeling. “I thought you actually wanted to be friends with me” you managed to say. Jaehyun’s ears got slightly red even if he tried hard to maintain a confident expression, and in the back of your mind, you thought it was adorable. “I do,” he said. “I really do. I’m sorry, I just…” he continued but couldn’t complete the sentence. “It’s doesn’t mean I don’t want to be friends with you,” he said in the end. You finally looked at him in the eyes. He looked sincere. “I know, I’m sorry, I just panicked” you replied straightening yourself. “It’s just…” your thoughts were as blurry as Jaehyun’s probably. You were about to say that you didn’t want to be another of Jaehyun’s companies, you wanted to talk to him again and actually be friends. You didn’t want to sleep with him and end it all there. But you know it sounded kind of lame so you didn’t add anything else. You knew there wasn’t anything wrong with people behaving that way, and you secretly wanted to sleep around as well, it’s just that being a woman, it definitely gave you a bad, useless, reputation, while Jaehyun, and men like him, were considered gods, and it made you angry. “I do not have bad intentions with you, Y/N,” he said seeing you quiet. “I genuinely want to talk to you again and me being here it’s not an intricate manoeuvre to get between your legs” he added. “It’s just… I wouldn’t be mad if it happened though” he said quietly as you barely heard him. His honesty shocked you and you felt your core tingle. Jaehyun was definitely cool enough to have sex with you then have a friendly brunch the day after. “Friends with benefits?” you asked brave thanks to the alcohol. Jaehyun’s lips curved in a smile.  He took your drink and put it near his on the table behind you. Then he kissed you. His lips were plump and soft as you imagined and as his velvety tongue made his way into your mouth he finally intertwined his fingers with yours. He was as close as to push you slightly into the wall and press his chest onto your breasts. You didn’t care if people saw you, you didn’t care if someone was going to talk, you only cared about Jaehyun and what he was doing to you. His thigh was between your legs and his hand on your hips. His kisses were so intense what you whined slightly into his lips and hoped it got concealed by the loud music. As you bit his lower lip he dug his fingers into your ass and pulled away. “I’m sorry” you managed to say, worried. Jaehyun looked at you with a dark gaze before resting his head on your shoulder and breathing deeply. “No, I stopped because I was being carried away too much” he explained in a deep voice. After a few seconds he straightened his back and holding your hand he made way through the crowd towards the exit in a hurried manner. You followed him wondering what his intentions were and when you saw him directed to the parking lot a pleasant shiver when down your core. His car wasn’t parked there though, but on a darker alley and you wondered if he intended to take you to his room or fuck you directly in the car. “I had some alcohol and can’t drive now” he explained as to make you understand his choice and you didn’t mind at all. You opened the backseat door and pushed him slightly as to indicate to him to get in. He chuckled and obeyed. He sat comfortably and looked at you expectantly. In a few seconds you were straddling him, your arms around his neck and his hands on your ass as your tongues met again in a wild dance. Your skin was hot as if boiling and you desperately needed to take off your top. As you did, Jaehyun’s lips got quickly onto your neck and with an expert move, he opened your bra and tossed it away. Cupping both of your nude breasts he looked at you intensely and squeezed them firstly gently then a little bit rougher making you whine lightly. You placed your own hands on his as he pinched your nipples and closed your eyes. The grip of your thighs around his torso tightened when you felt his tongue flicker your nips and suck them intensely. You didn’t stop him as his teeth gingerly bit you or as his hand opened your shorts button and slid underneath the fabric. The feeling made you jolt up a bit to get to a more comfortable position making Jaehyun bury his face deeper into your breasts. Your mouth was open and a broke sound came out of it as he rubbed your clit making you reach for his pants with a trembling hand. “It’s fine,” Jaehyun said. “I want you to concentrate on just how you’re feeling for now” he added with hoarse voice. You slid your hand back up, on his toned arms until reaching his neck and tugged at his hair. Your shorts and panties were down around your thighs and with a quick movement Jaehyun made you turn around to sit on his lap and dragged them down for you. With your back against his chest, he opened your legs again and started to finger you while gingerly biting your ear lobe. His other hand was tirelessly caressing your torso while his clothed bulge twitched under you. You let yourself go and threw your head back while unceasingly mumbling his name. His mouth moved from your ear to your neck and he bit your tender skin before sucking on it willing to give you bright red hickeys. The car windows started to get as steamy as your head and thoughts, so near to cum on Jaehyun’s hand. “Oh don’t stop, please” you mumbled. Jaehyun chuckled and took off his fingers from you. You whined in protest but as you turned your head around you saw him reaching his back pocket and grab a small square packet before ripping it off with his teeth. You shivered in anticipation and unbuttoned his jeans then supported yourself up to make room for him to place the condom. In a few seconds, he grabbed you by your waist and directed you down his erect cock. In a single movement, he filled you all up with a grunt and waited for you to adjust yourself to the feeling. It was an ethereal sensation. “You’re wrapped so perfectly around me, Y/N” he whispered as his cock twitched impatiently inside you. You whimpered at his words and started to ride him slowly. Jaehyun threw his head back on the seat and tightened his grip on your waist. After a few seconds, without being able to control himself, he started to thrust into you as well while deep, raw sounds escaped his throat. You both let yourself drown into the sensations as the car started to shake uncontrollably. Jaehyun was already hitting all the right spots before he decided to add to it by rubbing your clit again and it got so intense that you unwillingly gripped his hand and came messily. “Fuck” he grunted through his teeth and squeezed one of your nipples hard.

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 37 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Things looked up for Violet as she finally settled into the new normal of working in design.

This Chapter: One of New York’s most illustrious editors-in-chief turns 40--in style.

***

Shit.

It had been an absolute hell week, Courtney being run ragged all day, everyday. She’d missed more meals than not, barely slept, had gotten used to only using the bathroom when Fame was occupied.

It was really the first time that she and Miss Fame had to interact directly for more than a few words, and if Courtney thought she was high-maintenance before, she had no idea how weird it would get.

On Tuesday, Courtney had been torn a new one for ringing the doorbell when she had dropped off a package at Fame’s house, Fame looking at her like she was absolute vermin.

How was Courtney supposed to have known that it was a deathsin not to just let herself into her boss’ house, Fame explaining to her like she was a retarded toddler that she valued her family life and private time too much to be interrupted, not at all catching the irony of the fact that she was imposing on Courtney’s private time by forcing her to come to her house at 10 pm.

And now, a casual text from Adore that she’d be there around 7:30 reminded her about Bianca’s party and she was absolutely panicking. She had less than an hour to make herself presentable with literally nothing to wear.

She’d meant to ask Ivy about a dress, days ago, and then again yesterday when she was arranging the delivery of Miss Fame’s present to the Marie Claire offices, but it had slipped her mind amongst all the other things she had to remember.  

She jumped up and raced into Raja’s suite, a cramp in her side, relieved to find the redhead still at her desk.

“Courtney? Are you okay?” Ivy rose from her seat, a concerned look on her face, ever the empath.

“I just...I forgot…” Courtney tried to catch her breath.

“Okay, take a breath. Whatever it is, it’s fixable. I promise.”

Courtney gulped. “I forgot that I’m supposed to go to this party tonight at the Guggenheim and it’s super fancy and my ride will be here in 40 minutes and I don’t have anything to wear and I don’t even know what the dress code means and I was just wondering if I could borrow something and I promise I’ll have it cleaned and returned by Monday but-”

“Courtney, breathe. Okay?” Ivy took her hand, inhaling deeply and then blowing out dramatically.

Had this job really killed so many of her brain cells that she needed assistance breathing now? Regardless, Courtney followed Ivy’s lead, taking a few deep breaths to slow her racing heart.

“Now,” Ivy began. “What does the dress code say?”

“Creative black tie?”

“Ah. Okay. Follow me.”

Courtney nearly cried with gratitude as Ivy led her into the wardrobe closet.

“Luckily, you’re a sample size, so this shouldn’t be too much of a challenge,” Ivy said. “It’s Bianca Del Rio’s party, right?”

“Yeah,” Courtney said, watching her paw expertly through the racks.

“Are you going for anything in particular?”

“I guess I wanna look…” Courtney racked her brain, unsure of what to say, when the word, “older” slipped from her lips.

Ivy paused, clearly not expecting that answer, and gave Courtney a curious look before nodding.

“I can work with that. Now, Bianca likes bold colors and dramatic silhouettes with clean lines, so I think something like this…” Ivy pulled a stunning, beaded blue cocktail dress out off the rack. “This will look good on you.”

Ivy was truly a gift from god. Not only did they find a dress that fit perfectly (they settled on a short, fire-engine red silk number with a plunging neckline), along with shoes, accessories, and a glamorous faux-fur wrap, but she even stayed to help Courtney with her hair and makeup, giving her a chic updo and dramatic winged liner.

“Ivy, honestly, if you ever need anything. Someone to cover your desk...a kidney...whatever...you know who to ask.”

“Good to know.” Ivy laughed, checking her makeup one more time, adding a little more glimmering highlighter to her cheekbones, and then proclaiming, “Alright, I think you’re done.”

“Thank you so much,” Courtney said again, pulling out her phone. She hadn’t heard from Adore in awhile, and wondered if she was stuck in traffic or something. She seriously hoped that she hadn’t rushed like crazy, inconveniencing Ivy and nearly giving herself an ulcer worrying, just to sit around waiting for an hour.

COURTNEY: ETA?

ADORE: Soon, I think. I’m on my way to Pearl’s, then we’ll pick you up. Do you want a gyro?

COURTNEY: I’M A VEGAN

ADORE: Oh yeah. Gross. I’ll text you when we’re close.

***

“Bianca! Darling!” Fame reached out her arms to pull Bianca in for a tight embrace.  “Happy Birthday!”

She and Patrick had just arrived at the stunning event space a few minutes earlier, and were immediately whisked off to a VIP area with a private bar, where Raja and Raven were already relaxing on sofas, Sutan and Violet standing at the bar chatting with Detox and Jujubee.

It was perfect, removed enough from the chaos of the dance floor, but with a perfect view over the railing. And the speed with which Bianca had arrived to greet her told her that she’s given special instructions for the staff to alert her to Fame’s presence--exactly the kind of preferential treatment that Fame expected.

“Thanks, blondie,” Bianca grinned, “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Fame smiled widely, fluttering her lashes. “So do you. I love this dress!”

“Yeah, your tits look great!” Raja chimed in.

Bianca was wearing a sinfully tight black bandage dress, the neckline showing off her breasts and glowing skin, the hem just above her knees, her legs one of Bianca’s best assets.

“You can barely see that you’re turning 40.” Fame grinned, which earned her a pinch from Bianca, the other still keeping her in her arms.

“Shush.”

“Please,” Fame squeezed Bianca’s forearm, “So, tell me the truth, do you like the ring?”

Bianca held up her hand, where it glittered on her index finger.

Yesterday, Fame had had Bianca’s birthday present delivered to her office at the exact time of her birth, 3:57 pm. Fame knew Bianca liked her statement pieces, so she had custom ordered a cocktail ring, but not just any cocktail ring. Instead of the usual single band, a stone in the middle, Fame had gone for a three part twist in gold, sparkling garnets adorning it.

“It’s perfect, I love it,” Bianca said.

“Wonderful!” Fame clasped her hands together. “You’re impossible to shop for.”

“No I’m not! I love stuff,” Bianca countered. “Plus, you know...I’ll never say no to a present that’s unavailable in stores…”

She grinned wickedly, dimples deep, hand drifting down to Fame’s ass. Fame swatted it away with a scolding look.

“Really, Bianca.”

“What, it’s my birthday!” Bianca said. “You gotta give me something.”

“Fine, a tiny something,” Fame laughed, leaning in and giving her a sweet kiss on the lips, then following up with a light smack to her cheek.

“That’s not where I like being spanked,” Bianca said.

“Oh my god, you’re impossible!” Fame exclaimed, breaking away and stepping over to the bar while Bianca laughed gleefully behind her. “Now come on, tell me about your presents.”

***

“And a drink for the lady.” Sutan smiled as he handed Violet a glass, his date taking it with a sweet smile and a thank you, Sutan putting his arm back around her waist as they walked around.

He had picked Violet up at her apartment, his heart almost skipping a beat as she had pushed the double doors open and walked down the steps, her dress of the night absolutely stunning, the back open and taunting with it’s promise of bare impossibly soft skin.

“So,” Sutan rubbed his thumb up and down, gently caressing Violet’s back, “are you having fun?”

Sutan was happy that she was there, enjoyed spending time with her, but as he got to know her more and more, he slowly realized how little she actually enjoyed big crowds.

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Sutan bit his lip, hiding a smile at Violet’s quick but short reply.

***

Alaska giggled delightedly, letting Jinkx twirl her on the dance floor. If you’d told Alaska a few years ago that she’d have a friend who she could have this much fun with sober, she’d have laughed in your face. But, even though Jinkx didn’t mind it, Alaska really didn’t enjoy drinking around her. So when they were together, Alaska felt like it was the least she could do to hold off on the booze. What she did enjoy was being with her, sober or not, looking into her sparkling brown eyes as they tripped all over their feet.

“For a Broadway star, you’re really uncoordinated,” Alaska laughed, and Jinkx pretended to be offended, then giggled.

“It’s hard to be mad when you call me a Broadway star.”

“Well, you are!” Alaska said, wrapping her arms around Jinkx’s neck and gazing at her happily. She loved these moments, just the two of them having the time of their lives, dancing and laughing and ignoring every other person in the room. They always had fun, but tonight, Jinkx seemed to have an extra bounce in her step, radiating a kind of joy, and it made Alaska feel so grateful to be around her.

“Thanks Lasky...you’re the best.”

They whirled and stumbled around the dance floor some more, until they were both breathless and needed a break.

“What are we feeling like tonight? Ginger ale? Cranberry and soda?” Alaska asked.

“You choose,” Jinkx said, clinging to her arm.

Alaska ordered a couple of drinks for them and then turned back to Jinkx, who was looking at her with the cutest little dreamy half-smile. She couldn’t help the tingling rush that went down her spine as she lowered her eyes and asked, “So...what’s going on with you tonight?”

“What do you mean?” Jinkx asked, eyes widening innocently.

“I mean...you’re just very...I don’t know...” A smile tugged at Alaska’s lips. “...twinkly tonight.”

“Well...I wasn’t gonna say anything because...it’s kind of silly, but,” she lowered her voice, eyes shining. “I ran into her again. Ivy.”

Alaska felt her whole chest deflate, forcing a smile as Jinkx continued.

“At Zabar’s! It’s like the universe is just conspiring to help us get together, you know?” Jinkx giggled happily.

A lump rose in Alaska’s throat and she nodded, using all her willpower to keep the smile painted across her face. “Oh, wow. That’s...that’s cool. Did you talk?”

“Yes. You’d be so proud of me, I even got her number!”

“Wow. Awesome!” Alaska felt like she was going to throw up, shifting her gaze to the bartender, grateful for the distraction as he slid two ginger ales across the bar. She couldn’t help wishing that half the glass was Jack Daniels. She handed one of them to Jinkx and took her own. It tasted just dust.

“Yeah, but she was still a bit formal, you know? I think I need to see her in a more relaxed setting. Do you think she likes opera? Maybe I can ask her to Madame Butterfly?” Jinkx chattered, away, oblivious to Alaska’s shift in mood.

“You really think the Met is a relaxed setting?”

Jinkx threw back her head and laughed, squeezing Alaska’s arm. “Omigod, you’re right. I’m such a dingbat. What would I do without you, Lasky?”

“I don’t know…” Alaska stirred her drink.

“What do you think she likes?”

“Uh, I’m really not sure,” Alaska said. And it was true. She knew that Ivy was sweet, and professional, and did her job with a kind of calm efficiency. But she didn’t know her very well on a personal level, their professional paths rarely crossing directly.

“Hmm, maybe you can ask around? If that wouldn’t be too weird?” Jinkx looked so hopeful and earnest that Alaska couldn’t help but smile for real in spite of herself, immediately agreeing to help her on this quest to capture Ivy’s heart.

“Of course. I’ll ask around.”

Jinkx sighed happily, leaning on Alaska’s shoulder, eyes falling closed for a moment. “You really are my favorite person, Lask.”

“Back atcha, Jinxky.”

***

Adore walked into Bianca’s party, feeling like a million bucks. Everyone that was anyone and even some who were nothing were there, and Adore knew she looked better than all of them with her purple hair, her pouty red lips, her short black leather dress, fishnets, and best of all… Pearl, the sexiest fucking goddess she’d ever seen in her life at her side.

She hung on Pearl’s arm, enjoying the jealous looks she got; knowing that everyone at the party wanted to be in her place. She even got a nasty look from some models, who were clearly all in love with her girl, but Adore didn’t care.

Pearl was here with her and only her. Pearl glanced at her every few seconds with a smug grin on her face, like the cat that just ate the canary. Well, if the canary was Adore’s pussy. Which would mean the cat was… Well whatever, Adore wasn’t an English scholar. She was in love.

The only thing that sucked was that Courtney looked so fucking miserable. They’d been a little late picking her up, due to getting, well, sidetracked for a while at Pearl’s, and then stopping for food. She thought that Courtney would be a bit more understanding, but she’d barely spoken two words in the car, even Pearl picking up on her obvious anger.

And now, even though she was at the coolest party in Manhattan, she didn’t look happy at all. Adore caught her eye, offering a hopeful smile, but received only a resigned nod in return. She reached out to touch her hand.

“Have I told you how gorgeous you look?” Adore asked, hoping that a compliment and a charming grin would be enough to lighten her mood.

“You think?” Courtney asked, adjusting one of her straps nervously. “I don’t look out of place?”

“Bitch, you put all these other girls to shame,” Adore promised, and was rewarded, finally, with a pleased smile from Courtney.

“Thanks.”

“Pearl!”

Adore looked over at the group of giggling socialites who were approaching them, only slightly annoyed when they swept her girlfriend up. She pouted as Pearl dropped her hand, but smiled again when she doubled back to whisper into her ear, “I’m gonna try and squeeze some gossip out of these hoes, and then I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Okay, but don’t be too long!” Adore pulled her in, branding her cheek with a dark red kiss before taking Courtney’s arm and sauntering away, pleased with herself. She scanned the party, looking for her sister and finally spotting her holding court near the bar. She cupped her hands over her mouth to shout through the crowd. “Bianca! Happy birthday, you ancient whore!”

*

Bianca turned towards her sister’s voice, barking out, “You’re late!”

“Whaddaya mean, we’re right on time for a grand entrance!” Adore countered, laughing.

“Well-” Bianca stopped, completely losing her train of thought when her eyes landed on Courtney. She was wearing a short red dress, the first time Bianca has seen her in a color other than pastels, and she looked absolutely fucking stunning--legs a mile long, one blonde curl falling into her eyes. Damn.

“You look cute, B. Very boobalicious,” Adore said, giving her a hug. “Not bad for an old lady.”

“Yeah, thank you,” Bianca said, eyes still locked on Courtney. “Hi, Courtney.”

“Hi. Happy birthday,” Courtney said, giving her a sweet smile. “Sorry we’re late.”

“Oh, that’s alright,” Bianca told her. “But here, uh...this’ll help you catch up.”

She took a couple of the signature drinks from a passing tray and handed them over. Adore immediately began to suck hers down, but Courtney hesitated.

“Um, what’s in this?”

“Courtney’s afraid of tequila. It makes her messy, right bae?” Adore bumped her hip.

“Something like that.”

“It’s called a Madras. Vodka, orange juice and cranberry. No tequila, but it will fuck you up. Be warned,” Bianca said with a wink.

“Well...cheers,” Courtney said, giving an adorable little laugh.

“Cheers.” Bianca took a sip of her own drink, then leaned in closer. “You look amazing, by the way.”

“Yeah?” Courtney’s eyes shone, her fingers twirling that stray lock of hair.

“Yeah.” Bianca tried unsuccessfully to wipe the stupid grin off her face, and instead broke the tension with, “I’m shocked that someone who’s friends with my sister has such good taste.”

“Hey!” Adore exclaimed.

“Don’t be too impressed. It’s a loaner,” Courtney replied drily, causing Bianca to throw back her head and laugh.

“Fair enough.” She downed the rest of her drink, waving off a couple of acquaintances who were trying to get her attention.

“Be right back,” Adore said, scampering away towards Pearl, of course jumping the second the blonde so much as crooked a little finger.

Courtney reached out for her, but she was already gone. She sighed slightly, looking a little bit dejected, and Bianca cleared her throat.

“So listen, I heard through the grapevine that you’re looking for a way to avoid your, uh, Galactica employers while you’re here?”

Courtney looked up, startled. She seemed shocked that Bianca was still talking to her, and she stammered uncomfortably. “Oh. Yeah, no, I just-”

“Listen, it’s understandable, you wanna have a good time. Can’t do that while your boss is breathing down your neck, right?” Bianca flashed her dimples.

“Well...yeah,” Courtney admitted, laughing a little.

Bianca stepped closer, slipping an arm around her shoulders and lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Fame and Raja are well contained, don’t worry. I made a VIP section since those two need a velvet rope to feel like they’re having a good time.”

Courtney giggled. “Like a rich person playpen?”

“It’s a prison of their own making,” Bianca affirmed,  giving her a wink. “Trust me, they’re looking down on everyone the way they prefer, and they ain’t leaving.”

“Well...thank you.” Courtney bit her lip. It was hard to tell in this light, but it looked like a slight blush had crept into her cheeks, and Bianca found herself even more enamored.

“Anytime.”

A second later, she felt someone tap on her arm: one of the Marie-Claire board members, who she sadly couldn’t ignore.

“Sorry, I have go...do hostess shit,” Bianca said, regret flooding her chest, and Courtney nodded.

“Of course.”

She turned towards the middle-aged man and his young wife, saying her cursory hellos and giving air kisses, making small talk with them both. As soon as she could manage, though, she spared a glance back at Courtney.

The plan, from the moment Adore told her that Courtney was coming, had been to seduce this smoking hot friend of her sister’s. And she figured that the “rough break-up” that Adore’d reported would make it a sure thing. An easy and fun little fling--a birthday present to herself.

But now, something about the wistful, faraway expression on her delicate face as she smoothed down her skirt made her look vulnerable, in a way that gave Bianca pause. As stunning as she was--and fuck, she was an absolute knock-out--it didn’t make Bianca want to seduce her. Instead, it made her want to protect her. Ugh, why did her fucking conscience have rear its ugly head tonight, on her birthday of all nights?

“Thank you so much. Be sure to check out the raw bar!” she said, finally escaping and ready to head back to Courtney--but Adore beat her to it.

She watched as her sister came bounding up, Pearl in tow, and grabbed Courtney’s hands to pull her onto the dance floor.

Well, good. She should have a good time. Lord knows, anyone who worked for Fame deserved to blow off some steam. Bianca snatched another drink from a passing tray, trying to redirect her attention to the Welsh model who’d been giving her bedroom eyes all night.

***

Violet was having a surprisingly good time, taking small sips of her champagne. She had hurried home from work, almost ready when Sutan had texted that he was downstairs, the smile on Sutan’s face when he had seen her dress almost, almost, almost worth it’s price tag.

She had never been to an event of this size without having to worry if catering ran out of ice, or if she’d need to get taxis for whoever got way too drunk. It was nice to just stand by Sutan’s side, nice to be allowed to just be, without having to entertain or constantly think about everything that could go wrong.

“Ah, yes, of course.” Sutan smiled, his thumb rubbing up and down the small of Violet’s back. He was talking to one of the models from Elite, Violet vaguely recognizing her from some of the headshots she had presented to Fame for the fall collection. “I’ll be sure to tell Marcel about that.”

“Excuse me,” Violet turned, her eyes falling on a man with a camera, the card around his neck instantly telling her that he was from OK! magazine. “I was wondering if I could take a few pictures?”

“Oh,” Violet didn’t know what to do, her stomach instantly tightening.

“Sure,” Sutan grinned, turning towards the camera. “Right girls?”

“I-” Violet didn’t want to be in the picture, didn’t want someone she didn’t know documenting where she was, didn’t want to risk it ending up online. “I don’t-”

“Oh of course,” Sutan took her glass, handing it off to someone. “There we go.”

“Sutan”

“Come here,” Sutan put an arm around the model, posing both of them.

“Please-” Violet could feel Sutan’s hand on her hip, holding her tight, keeping her trapped, her throat closing up.

“Should we smile?”

“No,” The photographer looked out from behind his camera, “just be natural.”

Violet pushed away, forcing Sutan to let her go as the camera went off. She didn’t hear Sutan say her name, a quick flicker of a question on his face, didn’t see him smile apologetically to the photographer and pose with the model, didn’t notice any of it as she made her way outside, escaping the only thing she could think of.

***

Juju strolled through the crowd with Raven. She appreciated the whole VIP setup as much as anyone, but this was a massive party, and they’d decided to come spend a little time where the action was, maybe dance a bit -at least as much as her poor pregnant body would allow. They were stopped by a group of models, Raven proudly showing off her engagement ring and letting the other girls fawn all over her.

Juju put up with the schmoozing for a couple of minutes--after all, those girls were potential clients, until she spotted Bianca nearby and politely excused herself from the group, knowing that Raven would be perfectly content with her little fan club.

Bianca was chatting up some sweet young thing (typical), and Juju couldn’t resist messing with her a little. She wrapped her arms around Bianca’s waist from behind, asking in a low, husky voice, “Tell me I’m your favorite, Daddy.”

It was a joke between the two of them, something that had started years ago when Juju and Detox were first dating. They’d shown up at brunch one morning in the middle of a heated argument about whether it was appropriate for her to call him “Daddy” during sex--ironically, only a few months before she got preganant with their first child. It wasn’t a kink thing, exactly, it was just that she thought it was funny, and especially so when she saw his freaked out reaction. The group agreed that right or wrong, if it bothered him then she probably shouldn’t say it. But Bianca, ever the good sport, had pulled the smaller woman into her lap and declared that if she really needed to call someone Daddy, she was ‘willing to take one for the team.’

Juju accompanied her breathy greeting by biting gently on Bianca’s ear, adding, “Pwease?”

Bianca burst out laughing, pulling her close and introducing her to a very confused looking girl. “Tayce, you must know my friend Juju Sanderson. The brilliant hairstylist who owns Jujubee’s downtown?”

“Oh, yeah! It’s an honor!” Tayce said, her brown eyes lighting up as a dazzling smile spread across her face. “I’ve been trying to get an appointment with you, but you’re booked up for months!”

Juju had to bite back her laugh when she heard Tayce speak--Bianca always was a sucker for an accent.

“Well, play your luck with Daddy here, and you might jump the queue,” Juju said with a wink.

“Among other benefits,” Bianca cackled. “You know you’re the only one who I’d let get away with that Daddy shit, right?”

“Yes, thank you. You’re a lot more fun than my husband.”

“In so many ways,” Bianca said, turning to Tayce and giving her a playful smirk.

***

Violet took a deep breath, letting it out through her teeth as she could finally feel her heart slow down, though the knot in her stomach wasn’t going away.

She knew she couldn’t help it, but it was impossible not to feel an inkling of shame travel up her spine, the feeling that she was being ridiculous impossible to push down.

Sutan hadn’t meant anything by it, taking photos a part of his life, being in the public eye something that simply came natural for him.

Violet took a last breath, pushing away from the wall she had been leaning against to go back to the party, hoping that Sutan hadn’t noticed how strange she was acting.

It wasn’t that Violet liked acting this way, that she wanted to feel the panic rising in her body whenever she saw a camera in a stranger's hand, but she couldn’t help it.

She was an adult now, she had her own life, her own money and even her own job and her own apartment, but it was hard not to hide, impossible not to react to the instinctive fear that welled up in her at the risk of being found.

Violet walked back inside, the noise and the amount of people feeling so much more overwhelming when she wasn’t at Sutan’s side. She made her way through the crowd, easily spotting both Fame and Pearl, avoiding both of them.

She was starting to think Sutan had left, Raja nowhere to be found either, when she saw him sitting at a table, surrounded by models. He was laughing loudly, his arm around one of the girls, several of the models’ phones taking pictures of everything that was happening.

Violet’s stomach did a flip, the panic from earlier rushing through her body. She couldn’t go over there, couldn’t be a part of that part of Sutan’s world, so instead, Violet did what she always did.

Turned around, and walked away.

***

[Raja?] Sutan put a hand on Raja’s hip, turning her around. Sutan had been sitting with a group of models, doing shots and having fun right up until one of them had touched his legs under the table, and he had abandoned ship instantly.

[Have you seen Violet?]

He hadn’t seen her in over an hour, and while Sutan was more than sure that Violet could take care of herself, he had started to worry.

[Sutan!] Raja grinned, stepping into his space, looping her arms around his neck. [Hello brother dear.]

[Hello.] Sutan smiled, once again reminded of how much he truly loved Raja. She was tipsy, her eyes swimming slightly, which was probably why she hadn’t responded to his question. [Have you seen Violet?]

[Violet?] Raja tilted her head, her hand fiddling with the hairs at the nape of his neck. [No?]

[Shit.] Sutan bit his lip, his hands resting on Raja’s hips.

[Maybe she just left?] Raja smiled, running her fingers through his hair. [There’s no need to worry.]

[Maybe...]

[She can handle herself.]

[Mmmh.] Sutan knew that Raja was probably right, but it still felt weird that VIolet hadn’t said goodbye, and if he was honest, he was disappointed that they wouldn’t be going home together at the end of the night. [I’ll send her a text.]

Sutan was just about to reach into his pocket, was just about to get his phone out, when he saw a photographer to his left, just outside the VIP section. The paparazzi always loved to get photos of him and Raja together, and while he was sure Raja hadn’t noticed, he made sure to twist her slightly to the left, getting her good side as he smiled at the camera.

***

“Every guy here is drooling over you, bae,” Adore giggled, spinning Courtney on the dance floor before accepting another drink from Pearl.

“Not just the guys,” Pearl added with a wink.

Courtney laughed. In spite of her hesitation in tagging along, she’d been having a pretty good time. The attention was fun, of course, but Courtney’d barely noticed the alleged guys drooling over her. She couldn’t help thinking about the way she’d felt when Bianca put that arm around her, the way her brown eyes had sparkled in the dim light. The way goosebumps prickled her skin as Bianca’s fingers grazed her shoulder.

Her gaze kept being pulled in Bianca’s direction. Eyes drifting over her enticing curves in that tight dress. And occasionally, to her absolute thrill, Bianca would be looking back at her. Every time their eyes met, her stomach flipped around like crazy.

It was silly, she knew that. She knew that Bianca was only being nice to her because she was Adore’s friend. A nice kid. That it didn’t mean anything deep. This was, after all, a woman who dated supermodels and Oscar winners. Like the gorgeous girl by her side most of the evening, who had a face that Courtney instantly recognized from last month’s British Vogue cover.

Still.

The reality of the situation didn’t stop her from pretending, even just to herself, even just for the night, that maybe there was something there, that warranted all these confusing feelings swirling around inside her like a tornado.

And later, when they were saying goodbye, she allowed herself to enjoy the way Bianca’s palm pressed to the small of her back. She even let her lips linger for a few moments on Bianca’s warm cheek, kissing her goodnight.

***

SUTAN: Did you leave?

[MISSED CALL]

SUTAN: The party is still going.

SUTAN: Did you get home safe?

[MISSED CALL]

SUTAN: I can’t find you.

[MISSED CALL]

SUTAN: Violet??

VIOLET: I’m fine.

[meyhew]

Please talk to me about Harry’s eyes

i will Gladly talk to u about harry’s eyes lets begin i’d like to start with this particular photo:

and all i have to say about it is: there’s no such green. THERES NO SUCH GREEN!!!!!!!!!!!!! look how green and pretty that is, how gorgeous the green looks ringed by black wow im alrady raedy to collapse 

before we go on here’s a fun fact: only 2% of the human population has green eyes and of course harry fycking styles is part of that tiny percent bc yes he is that special and unique i despise him 

lets return to baby harry for a bit:

i am… Appalled????? LOOK AT THOSE EYES!!!!! like not to be rude but hol y shit?? look at how the light is hitting him look at that sparkle in those eyes look at how his left iris is slightly darker than his left iris the left one is so Clear and so Crisp it reminds me of a beach i wanan die 

and THIS! ICONIC! PHOTO! i cant talk abt harrys eyes without mentioning this photo bc????theres golden treasures hidden in the green woWoww im jealous no fucking wonder louis’ so gone bye an d dont even get me started on those LASHES bc i swear i will not shut the fuvk up 

and of course……, this Beauty. the eighth wonder of the world. i dont even have proper Words that could do this picture justice i mean… . thats a joyous tear in his eye i dont think i can talk abt this i have to move on 

lets look at this and admire this Gift fro m teh gods about look how SOFT this is his eyes look more grey than green and theres that twinkle again?????? hes a witch im 97% convinced theres no way any one person can look Like That i mean theres just no way its  a trick he uses to lure ppl in 

AND THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!WHEN HIS EYES MATCH HIS OUTFIT!!!! AND THEY GET A THOUSAND TIMES PRETTIER!!! ! i am not even KIDDING i am no T OKAY@! IT LOOKS LIKE HIS EYE IS ON FUCKING FIRE LOOK AT ALL TEH MOLTEN GOLD OH MY DGO????????????????  i need to lay down 

BUT WE ARENT DONE YET FUCKERS 

WE’RE GONNA TALK ABOUT HARRY STYLES BLINKING

im going to ask a difficult thing of u right now. im going to have to ask u to ignore his dimple and his smile and look at the wAY HE BLINKS!! ! ᶠᴸᵁᵀ���ᴱᴿ ᶠᴸᵁᵀᵀᴱᴿ I MEAN COME! ON! who gave him the right i have questions

LOOOKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i am in tears i am genuinyl on the verge of an emotional collapse look how soft! and slow! and gentle! i coutch watch it for hours holy shit damn u styles

AND THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! that is….. genuinly quite ofensive and i refuse to even talk about it so we’re moving on 

that is just…….. it leaves me Breathless bc taht fucker is starng DIRECTLY into my soul he knows all my darkest deepest secrets so we’re going to swiftly transition to the most imposrtant part of this pos t 

ur gonna prepare urself for this one…… we’re gonna talk abt the day i was birthed into this world ur going to need all ur strength lads

are you r e a d y 

A R E Y O U R E A D Y ?

OH M DYD GODODO?// ??4W/??? ID ONT EVEN KNOW WHERE T O START HOLY FUCK I AM SHAKING THEHAIR????? THE SMILE????????????? oh mY fuckgni gOD his eyes are sparklign THRES A FUCKIGN TWINKLY IN HIS EYES HE LOOKS LIKE A REAL LIFE PRINEC ABT TO BLESS HIS PEOPLE OH MY GOODNESS 

THERE ARE TEARS STREAMING DOWN MY FUCKIGN CHEEKS GOD I WISH I COULD CARD MY FINGERS THRU HIS HAIR AND WITNESS HIM BLINK THAT SOFTLEY AT ME ᶠᴸᵁᵀᵀᴱᴿ ᶠᴸᵁᵀᵀᴱᴿ ᵇˡᶦⁿᵏ ᵇˡᶦⁿᵏ  IM suing !!!!!!

shes dead shes typing from the great beyond (im she) 

LOOK AT THAT EYEBROW RAISEHERE LIES TUMBLR USER ROSESAU

[woozoinks]

I was tagged by @zimooy ! this has take me 23 days to get to. im sorry. Would you rather explore the many planets in the universe or explore the wondrous depths of our oceans? That's a toughy tbh. both would be p cool. but I would probably choose the universe. like that would be so cool???? 10/10 a gt im sure Can you describe your favorite color without saying what it is and its shades? Early November Evening In The Heart Of Seattle Your bias texts you, mistaking your number for one of their friends. Do you talk to them and keep up an act or do you admit the mistake? How do you do it? What happens after? I would probably admit from the get go that he has the wrong number but bc coups is a nice guy and im a nice lady, we'd probably continue talking anyways Describe your favorite feature of one of your best friends without saying what it is. Why? can i say everything?? describe a feature of my best friend without saying what it is?? my goodness what is this?? hagge's class??? okay um. it's like??? yknow when you eat some cookies and you wash it down w milk?? yeah it's like that. or like when you come inside after a really hot day and for a solid 15 minutes you are super sweaty but then by then, the A/C has cooled you down and you feel amazing??? it's like that. or when you you are giving someone a hug and they squeeze you in a loving way???? it's like that. or like when you hear the rain outside and you can't really see it but you kNOW it's raining and everything else is just quiet??? yeah it's like that. or when you are super tired to the point where you can't keep your eyes open so you close your book and turn off your light and finally rest your head on the pillow to sleep??? yeah, it's like that. What super power would you have and how would you use it? Hero or villain? mind reading or shape shifter. I can't decide between the two. probably mind reading tbh??? like that would be so cool. nobody can lie to me bc ik what they're thinking. I always know what's going through a persons mind. it would be so cool and personally v useful. but i don't think I'd be a hero or a villan really?? I'd just be doin it for myself yknow. as for shape shifter, that can just come in handy all the time. running late for work??? shape shift into a frickin cheetah and whabam im there. bih. i can even shape shift into the flash if i wanna. you can't stop me. What are three things included in your ideal type? Why? Would you accept someone without these features? they gotta be like friends man. loyal af. im not here for some hot n cold, two faced shiz. nuh uh. nope. i like someone who actually sHows that they care. someone who genuinely wants to be my pal. someone who is Real. no fakes here. having someone who is funny is kinda nice. but like fr i think everything is funny so that shouldn't be hard. I prefer someone who isn't rude or does a bunch of hardcore drugs n drinks n tries to get me to do it w them bc im not about that. I definitely need someone who i can have personal, deep conversations with. that's a must. i like someone who likes hugs but that isn't like a nEED. i could keep going but those are some of the main stuff. and I'll accept just about everyone. but if you don't meet most of these things, I probably just won't be close to you. Vampires, werewolves, or witches? If you could become one, which would you choose and why? a witch. i mean what's the good in being a vampire??? u gotta drink blood and u cant go out in the sun n stuff. lame. and werewolves??? you literally turn into a wolf whenever there's a full moon. I literally don't see why anyone would want that. so definitely a witch. like casting spells n making potions n stuff??? how cool would that be??? i wAnt. if you released a mini album with 4 songs, what would the song titles be? 1- cherry soda 2- queen 3- teacups & oil 4- rose petal gardens Describe what you feel right now by using a metaphor without including the word to describe how you are feeling. an old man is sitting inside a row boat in the middle of calm waters but below the surface, screams are erupting from the gills of scaled creatures Your bias from one group confesses to you in front of your bias from another group. They quickly confess their love. Who do you choose? they cannot be your ult. bias. *calls mo* listen chani and jinjin,,,, I love you both,,,wow um,,,, * aggressively whispers into the phone speaker* mo i need your help rIGht now Your bias promises to go on a date with you on the condition that you plan it. Plan the entire night (where you go, why, what you eat, what you wear, the other places you go, what you talk about, etc.) alright. here goes nothin. they didn't say wHat bias it had to be so um,,,im doin jae bc nobody can stop me. let me just run you through the date. start to finish. I'll start with outfits bc in this friendship with jae, style is Key. jae would be wearing his hp wire frames and wearing an oversized maroon sweater bc gotta have the Sweater Paws. and let's just say for this time, he had the hair he had in the when you love someone mv bc that's a good. okay honestly. that entire swingset look? the outfit, hair, everything. tHAT is what he's wearing. okay. me?? um. probably wearing some cute black skinny jeans and some classic red converse. and probably an oversized, light grey sweater. we just havin those cute sweater paw vibes yknow bc we like that. imma make this a day long date bc i Can. so after we do our things yknow, we meet up at a cute coffee shop (btw we are in seattle) at like 9am bc we are not wasting the day sleeping. we have a casual, flowy, comfortable morning conversation over warm coffee and soft muffins. then at like 10am, we leave the coffee shop and walk down to a library and grab some poetry books and sit on the comfy library couches and read each other some poems to set the mood for the day. at 11am, we walk to through the streets of seattle, having wonderful conversation, even stopping by the bubble gum wall and leaving our mark there before continuing, maybe once in a while stopping to admire the graffiti or art posters along the way. stopping off at a park or a bench to rest. just having no particular destination and simply enjoying the city as it lightly rains. around 1pm, we stop by a cute, old restaurant that has been around for decades and order the oldest item on the menu. we talk, smile at the old man that started the restaurant and shake his hand before leaving at almost 2pm. then we go to pike place market. we watch them throw the fish, we go into every single shop there is & look around. we don't buy anything but we take a few pictures together with his polaroid camera throughout the day. we spend the rest of the afternoon there bc there is so much to do and so much to look at. we buy some fresh berries and snack on them bc seattle berries are truly devine. we even go to the original starbucks and buy a coffee. we take a polaroid picture of course which i will later tape to the wall next to my bed next to all the other polaroids we've taken throughout our friendship. after spending the afternoon at pike place market, we go to dinner at a cute restaurant across the street that jae swears has the best breadsticks. and he's not wrong. we spend the entirety of the 6pm hour and part of the 7pm hour at this restaurant, talking about some of what we've done today as well as other pointless conversations. as 7:30 creeps up, we step out of the restaurant. the sun has already gone down and all the street lamps and city lights are ablaze. we walk down to the space needle, deciding that it's a good way to end the day. so we pay the ever growing price to go to the top (where most people have already begun to leave). we step out onto the outside of the very top and peer out to look at the city. we walk around it once slowly, taking in every inch of nighttime seattle. we point out what we find astonishing while doing so. once we make a full revolution, we walk to the side that overlooks our favorite view (the side that shows the giant ferris wheel and the ocean) and lean against the railing, just staring out. then we start getting into deep conversations about the universe and other personal topics that only the two of us will ever know. we stay there for a while, eventually just sitting on the floor bc our feet and legs have grown tired. i sit against the wall as he lays on his back, his head resting comfortably on my lap. I play with his hair as we continue you our quiet conversation. we stay like this until everyone else has left and even some of the employees have left. we don't leave until the last employee left says that we have to leave bc they are closing. so we get up and walk hand in hand back inside the elevator and back down to the bottom floor. we step outside and agree that it looks less twinkly on the floor then it did at the top of the space needle. we check the time, seeing that it's past 11pm. so jae, being the good friend he is, walks me to my apartment (although he doesn't live in the same complex, it's only a 10 minute walk away from where he lives). as we walk, we have comfortable conversation about the nighttime. once we reach my building, he walks me up the three flights of stairs and 12 feet down the hallway to my door. I thank him for the day and we give each other a hug. we stay in that position, hugging, for nearly five minutes, not saying a word. the only sound i can hear is his heartbeat. once he pulls away, saying that he will see me soon and he promises to text me when he makes it home safely, we bid our farewells until next time and I go into my apartment, waving one last goodnight wave before closing the door, leaning against it as i listen to his footsteps fade down the hallway. ~the end~ okay honestly that was rEALLY fun and I had a gt doing that. thank you mo for tagging me. honestly. I would tag someone else to do it but LITERALLY the only two people ik on here are mo and ri and they both already did it so oop. im not gonna tag n e one bc idk n e one. sorry it took so long for me to fInally do this. thank you for reading!!

[mintyvan]

#12

request: van writing things down in his phone while reader and her gal pals are having a night out

__________________

It was just a regular night out with the girls from university - getting twinkly-eyed in the pub, laughing about encounters with strange people, talking about each other’s sex lives or lack thereof, or complaining about school assignments. There was Martha, busty and loud, a drama student who was always the first to comment on everything; Val, the business major, and the logical one who refereed the drunk arguments; Adelaide, the most suave person you’d ever met, who could get practically any guy wrapped around her finger; and you, quiet but confident, especially when drunk on a Friday night after a long day of classes.

“And so I asked the guy, are you lookin’ at my tits? Fuck, I knew he was, but I just wanted to see his beady little fucking eyes admit it,” Martha cackled. “He was just sat there, eyes dartin’ up and down even after I caught him,” she said. “And then, of course my manager had the audacity to ask me, “are you pleased that the ice man looked at you like a porterhouse steak?”

All the girls at the table laughed loudly, and in grabbing the edge of your stool to keep yourself from falling off, you steadied yourself by leaning to the right a bit. You noticed someone two tables over, sitting alone with a pint, smirking into his phone as he typed. You tapped Val’s hand, and motioned for her to look at him.

“That’s the third time I’ve seen him do this tonight,” you told her. “He’s listening to every word we say.”

“Ah, don’t worry about him. Probably lonely. He’ll fuck off eventually.” Val turned back to the conversation, where Adelaide was now slurring on about her last sexual encounter.

“Do it or don’t do it - you’ll regret both, as I always say.” With that, Martha’s hearty laugh echoed across the bar. Your eyes were still on the guy two tables over. He glanced up, met eyes with you, and looked back down at his phone, obviously up to no good.

“So I’m sitting there, and she’s trying to hand off perfume samples to me, spitting shit like ‘it will add to your ambiance,’ and ‘catching hints of florals,’ and all I can think about is how it’s a matter of time before I just tell her that I screwed her brother.” Val erupted in giggles, accidentally spilling a bit of her drink on her jean jacket.

“Fuck, gotta hit the loo. Spilt my drink on my jacket and it might stain.” She got up, leaving a clear line of sight from you to the man with his fingers just tapping away. He was cute. You took your shot and Val’s - you needed some alcohol to coarse through your veins tonight.

“Oi, Y/N, the fuck you lookin’ at?” Martha asked you. You pointed at him and whispered to her. “Been listenin’ to us all night. Keeps tappin’ away at his phone, like he knows somethin’ we don’t.”

“Think he knows some of the people we’re talkin’ about?”

“Maybe.”

“At the same time, no one from uni comes out this far unless it’s for something special. The reason we do girl’s night out here in the first place. People are fuckin’ weird.”

As the night went on and more gossip was chucked around from person to person, you were more quiet than usual. With someone watching and listening, you didn’t exactly want to spill your business or act a fool. However, the alcohol you’d consumed had different ideas for you.

“Karaoke!” You shouted, and the rest of the girls followed your cue with a “hoorah!” and a jump down from the stools. Since you were a bit more shy, you still recognized that you needed to go after the rest of the girls, and let them sing their love ballads. The entire pub was watching, especially with Martha’s deep vocals, practiced from drama productions.

Then it was your turn. Slurring your words into the microphone before the song started, you said, “I’d like to dedicate this song to that man right over there, spyin’ on everyone in the pub,” you said, pointing. “He’s crooked and I like that.” Smiling, you began to sing the song to no one in particular and made a complete idiot of yourself. When you were done, you stumbled off stage back to the table, people cheering for you.

Sitting back on your stool, you wiped the sweat from your brow and fumbled in your purse for your mirror compact. Digging your hand through your purse and overestimating the amount of force needed to push objects out of the way, you accidentally flung it onto the floor, and it slid right next to the guy who had been watching you all night. However, the pub was loud and he didn’t notice it clack next to his shoe.

Fuck.

You ease off the stool, and walk over as gracefully as possible in your drunken state. He watches you the whole way over. Leaning down, you surprise him as you swipe the compact off the floor and return it to your purse. He looks back down at his phone and types something out.

“Hey, what are you doing every time you look down at your phone?” You ask him. He smiles.

“I get a lot of material from coming in here. People say the wildest things.” Not in on his context, you ask.

“What’s it for?”

“Well, I’m in a band called Catfish and the Bottlemen and I write music -”

“Right,” you cut him off, “like I haven’t heard that before. Joke’s up. Will you stop eavesdroppin’ on us or am I gonna have to shut you up in another way?”

He seemed to consider your offer. You sighed. “If I kiss you, will you fuck off? Not like I haven’t noticed you starin’ directly at me in particular,” you slurred.

He stood up, and put a hand on your back to steady you as he slid from his stool to walk outside. He was tall.

“Goin’ for a smoke. I’ll entertain your query outside. You’re welcome to come with.”

Drunken logic let you fall into step behind him as he pushed the door into the warm summer night. He lit the cigarette between his lips and puffed the smoke to the sky. He let the ash fall between his long fingers onto the asphalt.

“Can I have a hit from that?”

“Love, this ain’t a spliff,” he laughed.

“Never said it was,” you replied, and took it from his fingers. You inhaled deeply, stepped forward, and blew the smoke up in his face.

“You’re quite dangerous, aren’t you,” he teased.

“Here’s your ciggy back. The girls are gonna wonder where I am,” you said, noting how he was starting to flirt with you. This was turning into something you weren’t looking for.

“Hold on, one second, didn’t catch your name?” he called after you.

“Y/N.” As you turned to go, you realized you forgot something, and stepped back in front of him. He smiled, anticipating what you were up to. Balancing on tip-toes, you stood up, put your arms around his neck, and kissed him. His mouth tasted like tobacco and mint, but good, and his hair was soft in your hand. He wrapped his arms around your back, leather jacket rubbing up against your own. You bit his lower lip and pulled back to stretch it away from him, then let it go. You let the heels of your feet fall back to the ground, and took one last look at his plumped and swollen lips before stepping back inside. He said, “C’mon love, that’s naughty of you,” right as you walked back in. He didn’t return to his place at the other table; he kept his word.

It wasn’t until about a year later, while you were driving down the road sometime at night, when a song came on over the radio that sparked something in you. Familiarity. You’d heard those lyrics before, but from different songs, or voices. Something. All of a sudden, it hit you. You pulled over to the side of the road, headlights beaming blankly into the night, listening. Remembering everything that had been said and done. Gaping at the screen in your car, you found the song you were listening to was titled “Y/N.” When it finished, you turned the radio off. Silence. You slowly put your car in drive, and as the gravel crunched beneath your tires to get you back on the main road, you smiled, and drove on into the darkness.

[allbeendonebefore]

canada: story of us premiers tonight so I’mma liveblog it

lol if its anything like mankind: story of all of us im gonna scream (both good and bad)

its the bae trudes

hi justin thank you hello. honestly i appreciate the words that are coming out of your mouth but where are the actions j trudes

THIS INTRO IS LIKE MANKIND BUT BAD AND LOW BUDGET AND CANADIAN I LOVE IT

THESE CGI GEESE AND BISON ARE KILLIN ME

good indigenous representation so far and i understand this is only an hour episode but its like... speedy and glossed like ‘herearethewendatherearetheblackfootinuitexist’ and then EUROPE IS SUFFERING THEY ARE HERE TO STAY

HERE IS SAMMY D CHAMPIGNON

“nothing like the wussiness of our age” please...

[head on a spike] “people think of canadians as mild mannered...]

IM CRYING THEY’RE TRYING TO DO THE INTENSE CGI BUILDING MODELS OF MANKIND and like not that those were especially stellar but these just fall short somehow its so endearing and canadian [logs stack themselves in no particular rush to build Quebec City]

One thing that’s better than mankind is it doesn’t constantly repeat the same two high budget scenes back to back over and over

THIS IS SO CANADIAN they are like trying to be dramatic but the narrator’s not quite into it and its like he needs a certain commodity... tHe BeaVer 35 kilos of GOLD and then the guest speaker is like ‘ya its pretty funny our country depends on this crazy little creature with a furry body and cute face’ LIKE

soft beaver fur is easily shaped into soft hats [guy puts on a fancy hat in a mirror] [dramatic zoom in] I’M DYin

“they will need a key ingredient... WOMEN”

like you gotta understand when i type these quotes in caps its like where the narrator SHOULD be dramatic but shes just kinda ‘meh’

britain is here

Louis XIV TRIES AN UNUSUAL TACTIC.... HE SENDS NOT GUNS OR SOLDIERS BUT WOMEN! 

so many babies catholics why are oyu like this

“but this major expedition........ will be expensive” like im laughing so hard

“the frenchmen return to quebec hopening to excite governor d’argenson” [governor with the least excited face of all time] “he arrests them”

“these frenchmen are willing to do ANYTHING to secure a patron” EVEN go to BRITAIN haha

“they were the bill gates if you like of the time” please give us a knock off canadian example “they are like whoever founded the blackberry of the time”

[frenchmen commit treason by siding with the english] “Canadians... will do anything to overcome barriers!! [twinkly eyes]”

beavers.. so thick

James Wolfe... is determined to get inside its walls

like idkkk im sort of fond of this because its just so... canadian but also... its no good at telling stories, let alone history in context

its the plains of abraham

obligatory slow mo matrix style bullets

its over

god

idk how to feel about this aside from Canada: A People’s History was way better godd

[kat2609]

Need a Little Christmas (1/most likely 3) - A GFSS fic

SANDRA!!!!! You must have guessed it was me who was so super late at posting your GFSS present. I tried so hard to be timely but life and muses and holidays conspired to make that impossible. But finally the first part of your gift, my lovely @laschatzi - a bit of banter, a bit of humour (I hope), some silly outfits and hopefully a tiny bit in the gutter direction eventually :-) 

(PS - I had a go at the world’s simplest heading banner thingy. The visuals helped in writing, hopefully they will help in reading too!)

Need a Little Christmas

There were a number of things that Emma Swan did not enjoy about Christmas.

Untangling herself from the myriad of fairy lights her sister-in-law insisted on stringing across her apartment; finding new and unusual places to hide slices of Granny’s rock-hard fruitcake; avoiding handsy Uncle Leroy any time she found herself under the mistletoe.

There was, however, one notable exception...not that she would ever, ever admit it.

As far as her friends were concerned, Emma’s choice of Christmas wear was 100% a political statement on the ridiculousness of holiday consumerism, or the wasteful nature of Christmas decorations or whatever other tenuous link to a cause she was able to create on the spur of the moment.

In reality, however - Emma Swan loved the kitschy glory of a truly awful Christmas sweater. Adored the scratchy feel of acrylic, the garish reds and greens accented with the tackiest of tinsels. It was everything that she wanted to think of Christmas as being - fun and whimsical and joyful - and everything her actual memories were not.

But somehow, regaling the gathered Christmas crowd with sad tales of your childhood in the foster care system did nothing for the ambience around the dinner table - so half assed political statements it was.

Tonight’s offering was particularly spectacular, if she said so herself; an especially potent shade of green, offset with clashing red patterns and finished with a dainty Peter Pan collar, embroidered with holly. Only a tiny sliver of garish green had alerted her to its presence - but that was all it took for Emma to know she had found a prize. The internet was awash with ugly sweaters these days, she knew, but there was something about the hunt, the methodical search and recover operation of finding the perfect item in a thrift store that appealed to Emma’s determined soul. Emma Swan always got her mark - in work and in holiday festivities and that wasn’t about to change because #uglyxmassweater was now a thing.

Throwing aside a collection of hand knitted scarves, she reached for the trophy, only to find herself engaged in a tug of war with a man on the other side of the bin. Tugging the sleeve towards her sharply, he lost his footing, tumbling slightly before letting go of the sweater and steadying himself against the metal cage. Long fingers grasped the metal, a silver ring on his thumb catching her eye as he righted himself.

“Steady on,” he huffed, eyes following the green acrylic as Emma slid it subtly towards herself. “No need to injure a man over a pullover, love. I’m sure you can find one equally as hideous elsewhere.”

Ignoring the unexpected jolt of attraction she felt at the soft cadence of his accent, Emma tangled her fingers in the sleeve of the sweater, staking her claim unequivocally, and raised her eyes defiantly to his. Dark hair framed a pair of stupidly blue eyes, one eyebrow quirked up in question as he stared back. There was the briefest moment when Emma was sure he had heard the tiny catch in her breath as she took in the soft curl of his lip and the dark scruff that covered his jaw - a tiny second of regret that she had come across him here in broad daylight and not in a dive bar late one night where the options for proceeding were far more varied.

But Emma Swan was Emma Swan - and meet-cutes were decidedly NOT a thing she did.

“Yeah, well, possession is nine-tenths, buddy,” she snapped, reeling in the sweater and stuffing it under her arm. “So looks like you’ll be the one looking elsewhere.” She paused, all but daring him to respond. “And I’m not your love.”

Before he could utter another word, she turned on her heels and made for the register, all but throwing five dollars at the unsuspecting cashier in her haste to escape.

~~~**~~~

The near radioactive gleam of Christmas lights left no doubt as to where the evening’s festivities would be taking place. Emma hesitated as she reached to press the doorbell, unsure she wanted to hear which Christmas standard was set to be butchered by the chimes this year. Sighing, she pressed the button.

Good King Wenceslas, it seemed.

She supposed she should be grateful that David answered the door promptly, despite his loud snort of amusement as he greeted her.

“Classy, Em, even for you,” he said as he ushered her inside, taking her coat and hanging it behind the door. “I especially like the way not one of those patterns match.”

She smiled knowingly at David, picking an imaginary fleck of the checkerboard section of her top. “As you should know by now, David,” she replied, “It’s not about matching. It’s about the…” Emma faltered, distracted momentarily by a sudden memory of just how she had come to own this particular item.

“The all-encompassing consumer machine that is holiday festivities?” her brother finished with a grin.

Saved by her own cover story, she thought. “Exactly.”

Following David into the living room, Emma looked around at the assembled crowd. After several years, the actual ugly sweater part of this annual gathering had lost some momentum - in no small part, she suspected to her own loud rants on the futility of the subject - but there were still one or two guests in various degrees of festive finery. Before she could make a frank assessment of just how superior her own sweater was to all the others in attendance, she was enveloped in her sister-in-law’s arms.

“Emma!” Snow cried as she hugged her as tightly as her heavily pregnant belly would allow. She leaned back, taking in Emma’s outfit and giggling, straightening the white collar. “You’ve done it again,” she chuckled, “I think this is the best one yet. And not a natural fibre to be seen I imagine?”

Emma shook her head, unable to keep the hint of pride out of her eyes.

Snow narrowed her eyes at Emma. “For all your anti statements, I sometimes think you secretly love these hideous things,” she said suspiciously. Emma stood her ground, her face neutral as her sister-in-law studied her closely for several minutes. It was a close won battle of wills, but eventually Snow turned away, though with no less suspicion in her eyes.

Somehow her innate hostess sense always won the day - a fact on which Emma relied quite regularly.

“You need a drink,” she said, looking back at Emma over her shoulder as she weaved through the guests, acknowledging this one and that with a look or a soft touch on the arm or shoulder. Emma followed silently, smiling at the odd familiar face, but with none of the social grace of her sister-in-law. As they reached the kitchen, Snow called to her husband. “David! Have you got a drink for Emma?

“Sure thing, honey,” he replied, his smile soft as he met his wife’s eyes. “Let me just get this beer for Killian.” It would be nauseating, Emma thought, if they weren’t so damned perfect about it, but it was times like these her adopted status came sharply into focus. David’s capacity to love and be loved was in stark contrast to her own “love ‘em and leave ‘em” approach to life.

But she was not allowed to ponder her inadequacies for long.

“Oh yes,  Emma,” Snow gushed, her violet eyes twinkling ominously. “We have to introduce you to Killian.”

“You really don’t…” Emma started, but to no avail. Snow had already grasped her by the elbow and maneuvered her towards the end of the counter, with barely a chance to take the beer David thrust at her. Whoever Killian was, he was slouched at the end of the island bench, his back to Emma and Snow as they approached, his form-fitting black jeans enough of a distraction to keep Emma from disappearing into the crowd when Snow wasn’t looking.

He was clearly another of the Christmas sweater set, the bright green of his top unmistakeable for clothing of any other kind despite the way it pulled tight across the breadth of his shoulders - not that Emma noticed - a fact that was confirmed as Snow called his name and the buck-toothed reindeer head that adorned the front came into view.

Emma’s immediate thought was that she finally had some competition...until her eyes scanned up to meet his and her thinking went suddenly somewhere very different.

“Emma Swan, meet Storybrooke Elementary’s newest staff member, Killian Jones,” Snow chirped, clearly so certain some kind of rainbow magic true love flash was about to wash over them she failed to notice the colour drain from Emma’s face.

Or the smirk on Killian’s.

“Ah, but Emma and I have already had the pleasure,” he said smoothly, his eyes never leaving Emma’s face. “And I must say, love, your tactics may have been underhanded, but the whole effect -” he waved a hand at her sweater - “it’s nothing short of spectacular.”

No amount of sheer will could force down the red flush that Emma could feel creeping up her neck as she tried to look anywhere but at her two current companions. She wasn’t sure which was worse - Killian’s amused smile or the curious yet decidedly smug grin on Snow’s face.  

“Well I’m not sure what we’re talking about,” Snow chuckled, “but it sounds like you two have some catching up to do, so I’ll leave you to it. Bye.” She was gone with a twinkle of her fingers and an air of smug self-satisfaction, leaving Emma to stand gaping at the newcomer.

If he had been attractive in the harsh fluorescent lighting of the thrift store, he was quite something else among the twinkly lights and Christmas decorations of Snow and David’s apartment, despite the huge cartoonish reindeer taking up residence on his chest. Flecks of ginger in his beard caught the soft light and his blue eyes sparkled mischievously, giving Emma little doubt he was completely aware of the effect he was having on her.

“Still not your love,” she managed to respond, the harsh edge to her voice a futile attempt to deny the very real urge to launch herself at him; an urge lessened not at all by the way his tongue swept his top lip as he watched her.

And then, unexpectedly, he changed the subject; the heat in his gaze melting into something very different. Something relaxed and open and somehow far more frightening than blown pupils and quickened breaths.

“Well, Swan,” he said, with an easy smile that Emma couldn’t help but return, despite her unease at this sudden change in the temperature of their encounter. “It’s fortuitous you won our battle, it appears. I’d failed to notice that fetching collar and I have some doubt as to whether I could have carried that look off.”

This was new; this casual charm that made Emma feel comfortable and confused all at once. Heat and raw animal attraction she understood, she knew how to scratch that itch and move on. But this? This felt like more than a prelude to a quick fuck against a wall somewhere and that was terrifying in so many ways.

Sarcasm and snark had always proved effective in the past - why should now be any different?

“And you decided a big ugly reindeer would be what? Super masculine?” she said sharply.

Killian chuckled, clearly nonplussed by her abrasive responses. It was a rich, warm sound that made Emma want little more than to hear it again. “I don’t know, Swan. I thought he was rather dashing myself.“

She arched an eyebrow at the word choice and he laughed again. “Sorry?” he said in a tone that suggested he was anything but.

Taking a long swig of her beer, Emma looked across at a Snow and David, both in an animated conversation with a small group of friends. She envied them their natural ability to do that - to melt seamlessly into a group of people and feel at home. Unlike her, always looking for the other person’s angle and making sure she was gone before they inevitably screwed her over.

The fact she was still standing next to a ridiculously attractive man, having a normal conversation with no sign of impending hook up, was some kind of Christmas miracle in itself.

“Swan?” Jolted back to reality by his hand on her arm, Emma realised Killian had been speaking to her.

“Sorry, what?” she said, kicking herself for the stab of disappointment as he withdrew his fingers.

“Just pondering what type of person adds that collar to a pullover that is already such a visual delight.”

She breathed a sigh of relief - they were still in comfortable territory; frivolous, possibly flirty banter about knitwear was doable, especially if she managed to avoid the way his smile lit up his eyes as he looked at her. As long as they were nothing more than two ships passing in the night, there was nothing wrong with enjoying the company of a ridiculously handsome man at least for a little while.

“Well, it certainly wasn’t me who added it,” she said, fingering the white fabric at her neck. “But when is a Peter Pan collar ever wrong?”

Emma wasn’t sure what reaction she expected to her challenge - but it was definitely not the flash of pain that she saw in his eyes. It passed in mere seconds, almost too fast to be sure it was real.

“Ah, well, if that is its name, all the more reason it was meant for you rather than myself,” Killian said softly.

Emma scrunched her nose in confusion and he raised the arm that had been hidden from her view, leaning on the countertop. Instead of the long, slender fingers with their heavy silver rings that had rested on her arm only minutes before, this arm ended instead in a silver hook prosthetic.

“Funnily enough, Swan, I have something of an aversion to references to that particular tale these days. A little close to home, you might say.” He chuckled darkly, none of the light and warmth that had drawn her in before evident in the sound. He took a long drag from the neck of his beer, and with nothing she could think of to say, Emma followed suit.

The noises of the party were suddenly very loud in Emma's head, her mind swimming as they stood side by side in silence. Wishing desperately once again for the social skills of her sister-in-law, or even her slightly less tactful brother, the words flew from her mouth before she had considered their potential result.

“Wanna talk about it?”

He laughed drily once again. “Not even a little bit, Swan. And I suspect you have no desire to do so either.”

The squawk of protest died on her lips, the expression on Killian’s face making it clear he had all but seen inside her very thoughts. “Don’t think I didn’t see that moment of panic in your eyes, love. You’re something of an open book.”

“Am I?” Emma asked, unable to keep the genuine curiosity from her voice. Or to curb the tingling sense that he wasn’t being quite truthful when he said he didn’t want to talk.  

“Quite,” Killian replied. “Forced introductions to random strangers, for instance, are not your chosen way to spend an evening.”

It was Emma’s turn to laugh. “Are they anyone’s?”

“Typically I’d agree with you, Swan, but I must say tonight I am seeing the appeal.” The catch in her breath was involuntary. If his words weren’t enough to bring her to a halt, the sincerity of his tone certainly was. This was dangerous territory now - too perceptive, too honest, too many feelings she was one hundred percent not going to act on.

There was only one thing for it.

“I think I need another drink. You?” she asked. Denial - denial and alcohol - both viable solutions and potential exit strategies.

She hadn’t counted on Killian Jones.

“I have that covered, love,” he said, reaching under his sweater and extracting a small, silver flask. A practised flick of the thumb had the stopper out and he offered it to her. “After you.”

She sniffed at the neck of the flask before taking a delicate swig. “Is that rum?” she asked, the liquid warming her throat as she passed the flask back to him.

“Aye.”

Emma snorted as Killian took a significantly longer draught. With one eyebrow quirked in question, he looked curiously at her as she held back the urge to chuckle. “Yeah, great job on avoiding the Peter Pan references. Next you’ll tell me you have a ship stashed away somewhere.”

He looked sheepish, passing back the flask and scratching nervously at a spot behind his ear as Emma took another quick sip.

“You do, don’t you?” she said incredulously.

He said nothing, only nodded and drank again from the flask before looping the stopper back into the neck and securing it with the curve of his hook.

“You are not even trying. You may as well get the perm and a twirly moustache and be done with it. In fact, I think I’ll call you Captain from now on…” She trailed off, wondering just how potent that rum had been to loosen her tongue so significantly. Struck suddenly by the insensitivity of her patter, she looked at him cautiously, her teeth worrying her lip between them.

He was grinning.

“Sorry, Killian, I…” she began, but he cut her off.

“No apologies necessary, Swan,” he said quickly. “And I believe you intended to call me Captain?”

Emma laughed, throwing him a mock salute as she leaned back against the counter. They stood in silence for a few minutes - a comfortable silence that was somehow becoming less frightening and more reassuring the longer she spent in his presence.

And that should have been scary enough to send her out the door and into the night.

But instead she stood alongside him, so close their acrylic-clad arms were almost touching, the spark of something that might have been static electricity, and yet might not have been, between them and just let the first thing she thought of break the silence.

As did he.

“I’ve always wanted to go on…”

“Perhaps you’d like to…”

They both stopped, laughed, and gestured for the other to go first...until Emma heard her name called across the room.

David appeared out of nowhere, his phone at his ear as he stepped up to them. Concern on his face, he finished hit the end call button and spoke to Emma. “Fight broke out at the Rabbit Hole,” he said. “Sorry to ask this, but I hope that sweater of yours is up to some police work? Wrangling Will Scarlett might be more than a one man job.”

There was a tinge of regret in her expression as she turned to Killian. “Duty calls, I’m afraid,” she said. “Scarlett had better not damage this sweater, or there will be no Merry Christmas for him.”

Killian grinned. “Feel free to leave it with me, love. I’ll take good care of it.”

Narrowing her eyes at him, Emma smoothed her hands across her sweater protectively. “Nice attempt at plundering, pirate, but I’ll take my chances. See you round, Captain.”

There was laughter in his voice as he answered. “I’d imagine so Swan. You’ll be hard to miss if you dress like that on a regular basis.”

She was smiling as she turned and walked away.

[mille-at-home]

Easter and leave.

I know it’s Easter Sunday but blog I must, as emotions may get the better of me by tomorrow! It’s his last day of leave and he will be returning to base. (Boo hoo!) But what a fantastic week we have had, we are not having the planned extension due to costs but we have a log cabin in the planning stage to incorporate a hot tub, oh and a bar! Well, it’s a luxury item that we have been dreaming about for the past three years, so we did it! Our local store couldn’t get the square one down from the storage as the fork lift truck has broken down, so cue me and a little persuasive ‘nice damsel in distress that we wanted one today’ voice and a nice man agreed he and the manager could “put their hands on one not displayed for £450” (£50 more) Ok, ok I reiterated as long as it’s that price I will send husband back down. He returned home with this huge 4-6 seater thing with bloody LED lights, numerous jets and in short - is shear heaven. We have not watched any TV all week nor indeed, been on the Internet or had any inclination to play candy crush! This tub has been a good purchase!

Then he wants to get a gazebo, twinkly lights and a shed?! The husband has worked really hard in the back garden for the week making it just a relaxing area for us, we have gained a decking area this year as obviously both children do not need to be safely enclosed and tend to play in the woods. The bonus is that we have a whole level of decking previously reserved for the smaller person - it now has a shed (not a man shed) and we are managing to clear boxes from the spare room. We have agree should we go to war at any stage that we could probably kit out a few 'soldiers’ in the bloody kit he has but alas for now it has to be stored until he can get it back to some master?! There is a name for this particular person but I can’t remember, anyway it’s the person who takes all the surplus uniform to be returned to? Well another surplus store which is better than our spare room I might add!

I am so crap at all the army stuff (as you all know) and there is a new blogger in the midst who is raw and very real but I have to say, I can’t understand why - when people respond to her funnies that there is such a bloody need for all the fooking T.L.A.’s it drives me nuts trying to figure out this foreign language other wives talk! Give me a break please - just write it in English eh? It doesn't make you part of the military, neither does it make you important for other subordinates to have to ask WTF is that?! But I guess that’s the downside to MU living. I am just not in the 'zone’. AND another thing that bugs the hell out of me…(sorry, got to just get this off my chest)… A partner, wife, girlfriend or whatever; posts about how sad they are that husband is deploying, this is the most mind boggling, character changing shite any partner, wife, girlfriend or whatever might go through and yet…many see this as a freaking competition with lines like “been there, done that” “husband had done 3,590 tours so far and counting” “mine was away for all children’s births” etc etc etc Ladies - what is this shite?! What’s wrong with saying “Hey, I’m sorry chick, it will be ok, you can do this we know how it feels? Here for you?” Now in my book, that’s far more supportive but noooooo this is too easy for most?! *rant over!

Anyway, onto delightful MU things and aside from hot tub and shed building we have managed to get a family day out or two in. We pottered off to Prickly Ball Farm on Friday. It’s a hedgehog hospital and our children love animals of any description especially if they have a 'rescue story’ to boot. So we walk around this little farm and fall in love with all of the little animals deciding that when we win the lottery this is what we would love to do and of course Erin still has her heart set on a chicken or two! But apart from that I can’t help but notice that most of these places are geared towards your average toddler and pre-schooler with soft play areas and slides etc which every screaming kid around us is enjoying. This is great but as I found with my own two at this age, they have little fooking interest in conservation or rescue animals and actually once you have paid whatever extortionate entrance fee it is to get into these place all the little darlings want to do is go to the play areas?! Ours are older and much more interested in the animals and conservation coupled with a rescue story so when we sit in the hedgehog hospital to meet 'Bob’ the hedgehog, this young girl comes out to tell us about their extra sensitive ears and can we all keep quiet so that Bob doesn’t get too frightened? Yep, all of the 30 odd toddlers got this bit for sure *rolls eyes and the young girl had no control over them! Erin was whispering how worried she was about Bob because 'these kids are not quiet’ I sat very very glad that we had passed this bloody stressful stage in parenting! That said, little Bob coped well and will be released back into the wild this week. I predict little Bob will be a very happy little hedgehog away from the farm!

I collected Mum for Easter dinner today and she is doing well, she is still talking about leaving the home as she keeps getting a bill for the supposed 'care package’ that was taken away from her 7 months ago? £200 a month for hoovering, dishes and a shower? She has had none of it but is still being charged? Guess who is contacting a bloody care manager this Tuesday?! Here we go again! Erin and I did take the staff a bucket full of rice crispie cakes that we made this morning, so at least they have a bit of a sugar rush with their coffee! Husband cooked and I took Mum back to the home at 5pm. Norton is my leach at the moment (actually; hes always my leach) and he watched me intently as I got Mum into the car - I told him I wouldn’t be long (as you do) and drove off. As I drove back down the lane 10 minutes later, there is Norton, half way up the bloody lane having a good sniff around and no one else has noticed he is missing! Erin tries to round him up but he has no collar on (due to the throat tumour) and he is too deaf to hear me calling him! Erin gets in a panic and starts crying so I leave the car and fetch him but he is wet and covered in mud? He had a good ten minutes of freedom but lord only knows what he was doing!

Erin delights in running into Dad and asking if he is missing something?! What a week! A beautiful week to be fair; which I really don’t want to end but reality is happening and I need to do a job search for some more hours! I’m not gonna get that little 4x4 anytime soon otherwise! The only thing I will not miss is the snoring, because quite frankly if I hadn’t have come downstairs last night at 3am I would have smothered the fooker with a pillow! Roll on undisturbed sleep is all I can say!

Have a great week all. Mille xx