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musical-shit-show · 4 years ago

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could have danced all night

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Reader Inspiration: Prompts #2 (“apparently all our friends have a bet going that we end up together.”) #14 (“when i’m not with you, it’s almost like…i can’t breathe.”) and #41 (“i may or may not have left some…marks.”) Warnings: sexual references, kissing, meddling siblings, fluffy fluff Word Count: 3,733 Author’s Note: This is my first request! Big shout out to @acmbooksandfilm for sending this in, I had a lot of fun writing it. Also, apologies on it taking a bit to get out, writing has gotten difficult as my real adult job has slowly turned my brain to mush. But, if you would still like to send in a request, feel free! My DMs and Askbox is always open, even though it may take a little longer to complete requests. And as always, check out my Masterlist, About Me page, and Prompt Lists. Thanks for all the love on my other one shots and enjoy!

“Colin, enough,” Benedict huffed as he threw on his shiny black tailcoat, “Surely you have better things to do than pester me about my love life.” Anthony, Benedict, and Colin often crossed paths when getting ready for the numerous events of the season, and now the younger Bridgerton brother was doing everything to get on his elder sibling’s last nerve.

“I’m merely pointing out the obvious, Benedict,” Colin said smugly, straightening his cravat as he looked at himself in the mirror. He couldn’t help but flash a mischievous smile at his reflection, “Practically everyone in the ton knows about you two, what’s the harm in proposing?”

“What on God’s green earth are you two talking about?” Anthony strode into the room, closing the door in the likely event that Colin said something inappropriate and scandalized one of their younger sisters or, heaven forbid, their mother.

Benedict couldn’t help but flush. Yes, he was close enough with his brothers to discuss all matters surrounding women, but it felt wrong for him to talk about you. Especially when your relationship wasn’t meant to be any sort of relationship whatsoever.

It had started out innocently enough; you had been close with his younger sister Eloise and Penelope Featherington for years, acting as surrogate older sister on account of you being several years older than them. You were also friendly with Daphne and Simon Bassett, and often had tea with the pair when they weren’t off performing their duties as the Duke and Duchess of Hastings.

In truth, you knew Benedict the least out of the Bridgertons who had or were close to coming of age, and was shocked when he requested to have his name written on your dance card at the first ball of the season. When it came time to dance, you had expected Benedict to act shy at first; but after some coaxing from you, he won you over almost instantly with his wit and humor.

He only asked to dance with you once more at that particular event, not wanting to be improper. However, it was clear from the way the two of you looked at each other that there was a spark.

“No one,” Benedict said, almost too quickly, “Our brother is just sticking his nose into affairs that aren’t his own, as usual.” Anthony rolled his eyes, thoroughly unamused by his younger siblings’ bickering. The three of them strode down the stairs of their home and seized a carriage so that the conversation could continue in private.

“So…” Colin drawled, “It is an affair, then?”

“You know that’s not what I meant at all.”

“A slip of the tongue, perhaps? You know, brother, you must choose your words more carefully—"

“Mark my words, Colin Bridgerton; I will kill you in this very carriage if—”

“Will the two of you, please,” Anthony huffed, feeling a migraine coming on, “Benedict, is this about who I think it is about…?” Colin nodded fervently, but Benedict remained stone-faced. He hated keeping things from his family, especially his brothers. But he couldn’t risk tarnishing your name, not after what had transpired between you two.

It wasn’t meant to happen. When Benedict had snuck off one night to another one of Sir Granville’s soirées, he was shocked to see you there, wearing a tightly-laced corset, undergarments, and practically nothing else. As soon as you saw him, your eyes widened to the size of your mother’s best teacup saucers. Without thinking, you grabbed him and pulled him into the nearest empty room.

“Benedict, wha—what are you doing here?!” he remembered you asking him, utterly flustered. His eyes drifted to the sheer robe draped over your shoulders, the fabric floating gently with your every movement.

“I could very well ask you the same question!” he attempted to whisper, now distracted by how your corset pushed up your bosom considerably, “How do you even know about these, um, parties?” For a moment, you hesitated, unsure of what to say as Benedict’s pale blue eyes bore into yours.

You sighed, resigning to come clean, “Genevieve—Madame Delacroix—she told me about them. I confided in her about my father’s money troubles,” you felt the tears start to well up, but could not bear to cry in front of Benedict in the state you found yourself in, “I barely have any money for a dowry to find a suitable husband, and Genevieve and Sir Granville are familiar so…I work when I can and just make the guests feel comfortable—you know, offer them drinks, tobacco, the like—but I provide nothing more than hospitality.”

You felt that you needed to make that distinction to Benedict. Though you suspected that any chance with him was gone now that he had discovered your secret, you wanted to at least maintain part of your reputation, “Granville is generous enough and I could not be more grateful,” you continued, pulling the nearly translucent robe tightly around your body, “And these parties are so secretive that I thought, perhaps, I could scrounge enough money together before the end of the season before I was discovered. Clearly not.”

You couldn’t help but laugh dryly, but Benedict stared at you, his expression earnest, “You need not worry about that,” he breathed, “I won’t tell a soul.” You absentmindedly bit your bottom lip, chewing nervously on a bit of broken skin. Could he really be trusted? Yes, you had crossed paths over the last few weeks, exchanging pleasantries and the occasional flirtatious glance, but would Benedict be able to keep your secret?

“Thank you, Mr. Bridgerton,” you replied coyly, deciding that you didn’t have a choice in the matter, “Perhaps I will be able to repay you one day.” A sly smile spread across Benedict’s face, his eyes flickering to the locked door. Though the party was continuing on the other side, you two had remained virtually undisturbed.

Feeling bold, he traced his fingers over your collarbone, instantly sending a chill down your spine, “Perhaps…you could repay me now?” he posited, trying his best not to sound like a complete and utter rake, “Only if you wish to, of course.” Despite your best efforts, you could feel a palpable spark that had been building between the two of you over the past few weeks. And you had grown tired of restraining your impulses any longer.

Gently, you placed a soft kiss on his lips. Your eyes fluttered shut and Benedict cupped your face with his hand, his grip surprisingly tender. His free arm wrapped around your body smoothly, pulling you flush against him. You frantically thought through the consequences of someone discovering you with a Bridgerton, but you were too preoccupied with removing Benedict’s clothing to pay much mind…

“Benedict!” Anthony snapped his younger brother out of his reverie as the carriage slowed to a stop, “Would you get your head out of the clouds and tell me what’s going on?” Benedict stared at him, utterly panic stricken. He had kept your secret for nearly a month now, and during that time the two of you had gotten even closer, both in the eyes of the ton and after nightfall in your bedchamber.

Benedict’s mind almost drifted to the night he had shared with you only hours before, but focused on the task at hand, “You needn’t worry your pretty little head, brother,” he said coolly, “I have it all under control.” Anthony looked as if he were going to be sick, and Colin smiled with devilish glee. The three brothers clamored out of the carriage and made their way into the bustling ballroom, more of their family trailing close behind.

Benedict could hear Eloise whine as Lady Bridgerton attempted to smooth down her hair, and he felt a small pang of guilt for not coming to his sister’s aid against their mother’s incessant prodding. But now, he had more pressing matters at hand; namely, what in the hell he was going to say to you now that his brothers were onto him.

He spotted you from across the hall, his heart fluttering with every step he took in your direction. He noticed that you were wearing an intricately laced shawl that was tied tightly across your chest, completely covering your collarbone and much of your breast. Benedict felt himself frown slightly, then immediately scold himself for being improper at a society function; surely, you need not show your bosom to the entire ton in order to draw the eye of him and a number of other suitors.

You were conversing with Penelope and Lady Featherington when he finally approached you, eyes wide with fear, “Hello,” he said politely, giving a slight nod to Penelope and her mother, “Is there a spot open for my name on your card?” You quirked an eyebrow, giving him a smirk as you removed the card from your wrist.

“Why of course, Mr. Bridgerton,” you replied in an equally cordial manner. Heaven forbid Portia Featherington get a whiff of your affair; you’d be certain your name would be splashed across Lady Whistledown’s pamphlet before you’d wake the next morning, “In fact, you are the first gentleman to ask, so you may have the first dance. If you are not otherwise engaged, that is.” He shook his head and his eyes gleamed as he returned your card to your delicately gloved hand.

Despite his anxiety being astronomically high, Benedict was delighted that he was able to dance with you so early in the evening. He always thought of you as a fluid dancer, light on your feet as the two of you would glide across the ballroom. He often found himself not being able to take his eyes off you, the lively music and judgmental crowd fading away the moment he embraced you.

More importantly, he wanted to speak to you about the precarious situation you found yourselves in. It was only a matter of time until either Anthony or Colin pried the truth out of him, and he wouldn’t let the news spread across all of London society, besmirching your good name. He cared about you too much to allow such a wretched thing to happen.

A few moments later, all of the couples were signaled that the first dance was to begin. Benedict shot a glance to Colin, who had been talking Anthony’s ear off since they arrived. Now, the two of them were staring him down, whispering like schoolboys. He refrained from scoffing and instead took your hand gently, pulling you into his tall frame as the music began.

You instantly noticed the nervous and almost pained expression splashed across Benedict’s face, and you furrowed your brow in worry. However, you decided your best course of action was to try and alleviate the tension he must’ve been feeling, “I see you haven’t taken a liking to my shawl,” you remarked, a sly smile dancing on your lips, “I will have to tell my sister she has dreadful taste.”

Benedict ripped his eyes from his brothers’ stares and produced a small chuckle at your teasing. He realized he’d much rather converse with you than worry about what Anthony and Colin were up to, “No, it’s uh—it is, quite lovely,” he countered, lowering his voice, “Though I would prefer to see more of you, of course.” You raised an eyebrow, impressed by his boldness.

“I believe you saw plenty last night, Mr. Bridgerton,” you posited, weaponizing his own name against him, “In fact, I suppose you could blame yourself for my more…conservative attire, wouldn’t you agree?”

Benedict couldn’t help but flush, but cleared his throat to attempt to keep up with your rather scandalous banter, “Yes, well…I suppose…” he stuttered, “I may or may not have left some…marks.” He spun you, watching as your dress moved gracefully around your body and fluttered behind you as you gripped his arm once more.

You searched the panicked expression on his face. Surely, he only knew you were teasing, so why did he look like he was on the brink of sickness? “Benedict, why are you acting so strange?” you asked, attempting to keep the mood light while searching for information, “You’re not falling in love with me, are you?”

Benedict swallowed, attempting to maintain his composure. Besides the looming threat of every affluent family in Mayfair uncovering your secret, he was also painfully aware of how nervous you had been making him over the past weeks. The way your smile lit up every room, the way your eyes sparkled playfully, the way your laugh made his heart do a somersault.

“It’s just as well,” you continued, not waiting for him to answer your rhetorical question, “I overheard Colin and Pen whispering earlier, and Simon and Daphne as well. Apparently, all our friends have a bet going that we end up together.” He sighed, a little relieved that you had caught onto his family’s shenanigans before he worried you unnecessarily. He couldn’t help but appreciate your perceptive nature.

“Believe me, Colin and Daphne may be my siblings, but they are not my friends right now,” he joked nervously, only half-kidding, “And Anthony is on dangerously thin ice. It appears my family can’t help but get involved in matters that do not concern them.” You giggled, causing Benedict’s heart to swell. He was growing more infatuated with you by the second.

“I wish my family cared half as much as yours does,” you say, a twinge of sadness in your voice, “They are all so wonderful, and I’m sure they are just being protective.” Benedict nodded, heartened by the kindness and understanding you were showing to his siblings. You already got along quite well with Eloise and Daphne, and you were always courteous to his mother while still being able to hold your own when conversing with Anthony or Colin.

As the dance came to an end, Benedict had begun to realize his affection for you. Not just physically; yes, your first encounter at Sir Granville’s had brought you two together faster than he had ever expected. It was reckless, intimate, and completely wonderful, but getting to know you, without dozens of uppity members of high society leering at your every move, was more valuable than any nights you had spent together.

And he decided in that moment, as your hand released from his and you both bowed respectfully, that he could not bear to spend one more day without you by his side. But he could not profess his love in front of God and everyone, least of all his family; he quickly surmised that he must wait until a moment presented itself.

You were quickly whisked away by your mother, unable to even say a proper thank you and goodbye. But as your eyes met his blue ones, you couldn’t help but notice how they were sparkling in the candlelight, and you felt a twinge of melancholy. You cared for Benedict, but feared it was only a matter of time before your affair ended and he was married to another disgustingly wealthy aristocrat. You gave him a fleeting smile before getting dragged to the other side of the ballroom.

As you turned away from him, Benedict felt two hands grasping each of his arms, one hand belonging to each of his meddling brothers, “I knew it!” Colin whisper-yelled as he and Anthony pulled their love-struck sibling into a secluded corner of the lavish hall, “You know, you really aren’t fooling anyone, Ben.”

“How do you mean?” Benedict asked nervously in one last ditch effort to conceal the truth. He shouldn’t have bothered; his brothers had seen how smitten he was with you, and soon the entire ton would be abuzz with salacious gossip if he did not make his move that very evening.

“Benedict,” Anthony chided sternly, clapping him on the shoulder, “Please, do not deny it any longer. You’re clearly bewitched.” The eldest Bridgerton child could not help but smirk; it was almost entertaining to see his usually guarded brother so obviously in love.

Benedict sighed, defeated, “Alright,” he whispered, his face flush with embarrassment, “I apologize for thinking I could ever keep a secret from you two.” Colin smirked proudly, feeling as if he were London’s greatest detective, “I’ll tell you everything if you want, but for the love of Christ, it cannot be here.” He gestured to the room, which was growing more crowded with preening mamas, hunting for the slightest whiff of a scandal.

While Benedict and his brothers searched for a private room for him to regale your escapades, your night flew by, and hours later you found yourself chatting with Daphne and Simon on the gorgeously decorated outdoor terrace. The night was perfectly temperate, and although the noise had died down significantly as many guests had departed for the evening, your head was still swimming in thought. Specifically, you were overwhelmed by the thought of Benedict.

He was quite kind to you, and a very smart, charming gentleman, but you felt your heart lurch as you recalled the intimate nights you had shared over the last few weeks. Men of Benedict’s status would not wed a tainted woman, no matter how much you wished he would. It was only a matter of time before Lady Whistledown revealed your transgressions, and you would be marked as an undesirable to the entire upper echelon of society.

You shuddered at the thought. “Chilly, dear?” Daphne asked sweetly, noticing the unsettled look on your face, “I would think you’d be more protected from the elements with that beautiful shawl on.” Your heart jumped to your throat before you could cover for yourself; Benedict had appeared on the terrace, looking absolutely petrified. Simon and Daphne exchanged glances.

“Darling,” Simon said, turning to his wife, “It is quite crisp out here, don’t you think? Perhaps we should—”

“Go inside to warm up?” Daphne finished his sentence, that unmistakably mischievous glint in her eye that all Bridgerton children possessed, “Why yes, I think that is a fantastic idea, Simon.” She hooked her arm under her husband’s, and the two of them bid you and Benedict adieu, much to your dismay. You were certain he had been found out by his family and was here to end your affair before word reached the rest of the ton.

Still, you managed to smile politely. Simon was right, there was a slight chill that pervaded the terrace, mostly due to the lack of company that had populated the space only hours before, “Hello, Benedict,” you mutter, shifting your weight from one heeled foot to the other, “Will you be departing soon or—?”

“Erm, yes,” he answered a bit too quickly, and you raised an eyebrow. His strange behavior all night was another indicator that ending things was clearly as difficult for him to initiate as it would be for you to accept, “But first, I, well, I need to tell you something. Something I probably should have told you weeks ago.”

You felt a lump in your throat almost instantaneously. ‘Here it comes,’ you thought, more distressed than you hoped you would be. Benedict took your gloved hand, rubbing circles on the back of your hand with his thumb. If it were not slightly improper, you would almost find it comforting; his touch always seemed to soothe you, ever since your first night together.

“I never expected to…for us to become so close in such a short period of time,” he began, wondering at what point in this silly speech he would make a royal ass out of himself. Though he had gained a little brotherly insight from Anthony and Colin, he still felt as though he could vomit at any second, “And, well, truth be told, I have enjoyed every moment we have spent together.”

You smiled, pleased by his kind words, “Truthfully, I have felt the same,” you remarked, “But it’s quite alright, Ben, I understand—”

“You do?” he cut you off again, a bead of sweat forming on his brow, “Am I really so obvious about my affection for you?” You stared at him, confused. Was this not him ending whatever…relationship the two of you shared? Now you felt like the fool.

“Affection?” you repeated, your mouth twitching, “I thought you did not want to see me anymore.” Benedict’s eyes widened, and he couldn’t help but laugh dryly. You had mistaken his jittery behavior as a bad omen, when that could not be further from reality.

He shook his head, and you felt the pace of your heartbeat quicken, “My dear, I think there’s been a slight misunderstanding,” he joked, clearing his throat, “I know that our relationship has been a secret for some time, but I cannot hide how I feel for you any longer. You are kind, and witty, and strong, and incredibly adventurous, and when our dance came to an end earlier this evening, I…I felt like there was a part of me missing as soon as you left. I…when I’m not with you, it’s almost like…I can’t breathe.”

Your breath hitched in the back of your throat, taken aback by his doting and earnest words. “And it would be my honor,” he smiled, his gaze intense and impassioned, “If I could ask for your hand.” Your eyes sparkled back at his, and you nodded silently, attempting to conceal a squeal of girlish glee. You two were still, unfortunately, in public.

“Yes,” you exhaled, feeling foolish from your assumptions about Benedict only minutes before, “I would be equally honored to be your wife, Benedict Bridgerton.” You snuck him a quick kiss on his cheek, causing him to flush for what was probably the hundredth time that night, “I see our friends were right after all, weren’t they?”

“Yes, yes they were, and I doubt I will ever hear the end of it from Anthony and Colin,” Benedict mused, smiling sweetly as the corners of his eyes crinkled happily, “I’ll see to a proper visit first thing tomorrow morning, I promise.” He studied you, doing all he could to absorb the joyous look etched upon your radiant face. You smirked, turning in the direction of your family’s carriage.

“I shall hold you to that,” you said, pulling him towards the exit, “But don’t think this night is over, Mr. Bridgerton. I’m not done with you quite yet.”

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I hope you enjoyed reading! As always I would love to hear any comments or feedback! Like/comment/reblog, all that good stuff :)

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positivexcellence · 4 years ago

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Jared Padalecki Has Been a Star for 20 Years. There's Still a Lot You Don't Know About Him.

There are few things more awkward than telling a grown man you're about to ask him a series of questions best saved for a second or third date. Especially when that man is Jared Padalecki, the chiseled-jawed heartthrob you've been watching on television for over half your life. But this is Glamour's “Inappropriate Questions” column, and this author has a job to do.

“Game on,” Padalecki challenges over the phone, instantly clearing the air of any nervous tension. In fact, he says to “be prepared” as if I'm the one about to be put in the hot seat. His lack of caution is disarming but not completely unexpected. The actor got his start in Hollywood in the early aughts playing Rory Gilmore's first great love on Gilmore Girls. After five seasons, he left the series to hunt monsters as Sam Winchester on Supernatural, which just ended its 15-year-long run in November. Considering the fanaticism surrounding both projects, there's likely no question he hasn't already been asked by the press or fans.

“I'll have even more inappropriate answers, you're gonna have to have a lot of asterisks in your article,” the 38-year-old jokes with a deep laugh. It's easy to picture the laid back, Texas boy smile on the other end of the line.

Despite initial plans to retire after well over a decade of filming Supernatural in Vancouver, Canada, Padalecki was sucked back into acting almost immediately by his latest project at the CW. He stars and serves as an executive producer on Walker, a modern reboot of the Chuck Norris martial arts procedural, Walker, Texas Ranger. But vocation is pretty much the only thing the two shows have in common.

Padalecki’s Walker centers around a grieving widower who struggles with the death of his wife (played by his actual spouse, Genevieve Padalecki), raising two teenagers, and balancing his duties as a law enforcement officer. The drama, which premiered in January, has already been picked up for a second season and will be filming an additional five episodes for season one.

But what was it about this particular property that halted Padalecki's plans for a long-overdue break? Well, for one, the headquarters of the Texas Rangers is in Austin, Texas, where he and his wife are raising their family. “It's a great sleep in my own bed. It fucking sucks to wake up because the kids are running around and jumping on my head, but it's awesome,” he says. “I feel like towards the end of Supernatural my thought process was like, 'Man, I have a wife and three kids. I'd like to meet them.'”

It turns out, dating your partner again after 10 years of marriage has its advantages. During our call, Padelecki opens up about his ideal date night, working with his wife, and even confirms a long-rumored Gilmore Girls romance. My one goal: surprise Jared Padalecki.

Before COVID-19, you were doing almost 20 Supernatural fan conventions around the globe each year. What's the wildest thing a fan has ever asked you?

Jared Padalecki: I have had a few people asked me to sign something on their body or draw something for them to get tattooed—and then I've seen the tattoos! I haven't tattooed anybody…well, I did tattoo my friend Bruce, and he tattooed me. But that's neither here nor there.

How much experience tattooing do you have?

Zero. We finished filming Supernatural forever on September 10; on September 11, he was like, “All right, have an appointment for us to go get tattooed, buddy.” So we went got tattoos, and he did a little dot on me and I did a little dot on him. Luckily it wasn't something that needed any artistic talent whatsoever.

So, let's talk a little bit about Walker. The premiere was the most-watched episode on The CW since 2018 as well as the network's highest-viewed series debut in five years. Why are people so obsessed with you?

The big forehead. [Laughs] I think a lot of people in the world right now are really looking for something to feel good. My Walker is not the Chuck Norris Walker, where he walks around roundhouse kicking people randomly. Our Walkers are not even related or connected.

My Walker is a guy who's flawed and trying to do the best he can in a world that's hard to navigate. I think it's a universal theme. Whether you're law enforcement or a parent or not, you can find parallels to your own life in somebody who's just a little in over their head and trying to be the best they can in difficult circumstances.

You actually had a Walker, Texas Ranger moment on Supernatural and now you're leading the reboot. Do you have a cowboy kink?

A cowboy kink? I'm not sure what that means…I've got three young kids, man. I know what Frozen is and I know what Paw Patrol is, and that's basically it. Kink…like a fantasy?

Yeah!

Okay, cowboy kink. [Laughs] You know what? Cowboy boots on a woman are very sexy. When I started dating Gen during Supernatural she had these—she still has them, I think she wore them on Walker as a matter of fact—she had these cowboy boots with skulls on them. I was like, damn girl.

There's something that just melts me in all the right ways when you see a woman who's beautiful and soft and caring and has some badass cowboy boots on. So that's probably my kink.

You met your wife when she played Ruby in seasons 3 and 4 of Supernatural. She appeared a few more times throughout the series, but what is it like to really act alongside her again on Walker?

It's pretty awesome. Gen's such a strong woman. I mean, she was a double major, double minor, college soccer player. The first marathon she ever ran was the Boston Marathon, and she missed qualifying by two minutes because her Apple Watch died or something. She's given natural childbirth multiple times. She is so much more tough and badass than I am, so seeing her in her element is so sexy.

I have to imagine, after spending so much time in Vancouver, you're almost re-dating. Do you guys do anything special for date night?

When we really want to have a special night, we will get a hotel room. [The night after the Walker premiere], we went out to the Lake Austin Spa. We got a babysitter for the night, and we're like, “We're gonna get a massage. We're going to watch a movie in the room, sleep, get in the hot tub, whatever, and we'll come home around noon to go watch our son's basketball game.”

OK. It's time to get really personal. Are you ready?

I'm in. I'm sitting.

In 2016, the casting director of Gilmore Girls, Mara Casey, gave an interview in which she said, “We did have a running joke about casting all of [Alexis Bledel's] real-life boyfriends. She dated Jared and [Milo Ventimiglia].” Is that true?

It is true! But I had never met Alexis before the show. We did date, but they cast me as a human being, and then I became a boyfriend.

When Alexis and I met, we were both 17 years old and were both Texans and kind of in this new, strange city and I was like, “Hey, want to go out to dinner?” I know she dated Milo for a while and yes, she and I did date.

Before or…?

It was before because he wasn't on the show until season 2. I think we dated during season 1.

How did you two keep it a secret?

I don't know if we tried to keep it a secret. I wish it was scandalous or something! I think it was more kind of silly. We were two 17-year-old kids who were like, “Hey, you want to go bowling?” It wasn't anything super juicy.

You've said multiple times that you're Team Jess over Team Dean. But do you feel like we, as a society, should still be Team Rory? She kind of sucks, too.

I laugh when people are like, “I'm Team Dean.” Dean cheats on his wife! And Rory didn't help.

Rory had some issues. You know, she was a kid growing up and trying to navigate her way in a weird world without a really solid father figure and with a kind of kooky, neurotic mother. I'll say this: Yes, I'm Team Rory. I think Rory was trying to live her life, and she wasn't malicious. She wasn't one of these mean girls who were like, “Oh, I'm gonna start a rumor about this person or that person. I'm gonna try and ruin this life.”

Did she make some mistakes? Fuck yeah! Of course! We all do. She probably hurt some people, she probably got hurt. But I think she was just trying to live her life and figure it out. She wasn't outwardly trying to hurt people. So yeah, call me Team Rory.

So, did any of these questions manage to surprise you?

I think so! That Alexis boyfriend question. I didn't know Mara had said that.

This was four years ago, you can't get mad at her!

[Laughs] Holy shit, so that was right during the reboot?

Yes, so the statute of limitations on this has long since passed.

#Jared Padalecki

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jayankles · 4 years ago

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Mommy, Daddy, and their Baby Girl

Summary: Y/N been a bad girl, Jared has set out to punish her but gets too caught up in his own pleasure, Gen’s there to even the playing field to be the one in charge.

Request: can you do a Jared x reader x Genevieve where she’s a bit younger than them and she has a mommy and daddy kink please

Word Count: 1167

Written for: @spnkinkbingo | @anyfandomgoesbingo | @supernatural-jackles | @badbitchesbingo | @anyfandomkinkbingo

Squares Filled: Switch | writers choice au | threesome | masturbation | daddy kink

Also for @becs-bunker

Kinktober Day 31: Dealer’s choice

“Please, Daddy?” You say softly, biting into your lower lip before pouting at him. “I’ve been a good girl for you and mommy. Please?”

Jared can’t help the quiet yet harsh grunt that leaves his throat, it’s something in the sweet and innocent act that you put on that makes him almost collapse as you fall to your knees, he would do whatever his baby girl wants. But then he remembers who is in charge. (Most definitely his wife, but we will divulge that scenario another time.) On the other hand though, he wouldn’t just be giving you what you want; he would also be getting what he wanted and he would be giving his wife a little show - or a snack if she chose to.

It’s the clink of his wedding ring against his belt that attracts your eyes to below his waistline. You are not disappointed when you see how hard Jared is in his pants, his cock tightened in the constraints of his stupid clothing.

“Should Daddy give his baby girl what she wants?” His touch against your cheek sends a shiver rippling down your spine. “How badly does she want her Daddy?”

Before you have the opportunity to speak, though, Jared presses his thumb against your bottom lip, pushing it past your lips when he sees you open your mouth to him. “Such a good girl for Daddy. Good little slut.”

He doesn’t let you enjoy the feeling of your mouth against his thumb much longer as he pulls it away. You whine, sitting back on your haunches in a silent disobedient manner. He doesn’t doesn’t pick up on it though. His hands were too busy fumbling with the button on his pants. But she does. She stands there, leaning against the door with her hands on her hip and she watches the two of them together. It’s not jealousy, oh dear, no. She likes the thrill of walking in, catching them in the middle of their sexual escapades. Genevieve likes it so much that no matter how mad she is at the two of them starting without her, she can’t help how her body just reacts to them. How wet her pussy gets as she watches her baby girl pine over her husband. Gen thinks about all the ways that she is going to punish the little girl, and maybe even her husband while she’s at it. She grabs the attention of the both of them when she tuts at their display.

Gen shakes her head at the pair of them, even though Jared thinks he’s in charge she knows that she has Jared wrapped around her finger and she knows she has you worshipping the ground that she walks on. Gen pushes himself from the wall and strolls over to the pair.

“Go lay on the bed, little girl.” Genevieve says, barely above a whisper. Her voice is silky smooth, but you know that you are in for a punishment for not listening to her direct order. She asked you for one thing, don’t touch her pussy. You couldn’t help it when you just thought about her.

“Yes, Mommy.” You say, trying to get up as seductively as possible. Maybe it’s working by the way you catch Jared’s cock twitch in his pants.

“On the bed, too, Mister. You’ve been a bad boy.” Gen shoves Jared on the end of the bed, his legs wide open and hand rubbing against his painfully swollen cock. It’s that moment when you know that Jared is no longer in charge; it’s so much easier to have Daddy give you what you want but with Genevieve? You are screwed, you are hers; body, mind, and soul. Genevieve doesn’t waste any time shoving your legs open, your soaking wet cunt, bare for her eyes and her husbands. You expect her fingers to swipe through your folds but she shocks you with a strike of her palm against your clit. Screaming at the surprise, your body lurches forward at the thwacking sound. “You see this pretty little pussy? This is Mommy’s pussy. The little girl or Daddy doesn’t tough this pussy. Unless. I. Say.”

She accentuates her last three words with a slap. Your pussy now throbbing from both pain and pleasure, you clench around emptiness, nothing to fill you with yet but the silent begging that you are doing with your eyes and the rolling of your hips doesn’t deter Gen’s stoic annoyance.

“Take off your clothes, baby.” She coos, stripping herself from her jacket, loosening her blouse buttons and letting it hang off her body, taunting you with her exposed torso and perfect tits covered with her favourite bra. “You too, Daddy. You’re going to sit there until you’ve learned your lesson.”

Immediately, you obey her orders, pulling off your tee shirt - the only remaining article of clothing, opening up yourself for her as you lie back on the pillows at the top of the bed, your hands resting behind your back.

“Oh, Jared?” She waits for him to look at her fully, eyes less glossed over but still edging with lust. “Don’t come. Don’t touch yourself. Just watch.”

Synchronically, you and Jared moan - although his moan is more of a whine, deep and low in his throat. You know she isn’t going to take it easy on you. You know as you watch the smirk grow wide on her face and Jared can sense that whatever Gen has in mind that it will be for her pleasure and no one else's until she says so, lust and longing washes over him. He can’t help but want to touch himself, especially if his wife was the one calling the shots and their baby girl was only now obeying Gen’s orders after touching herself.

The beautiful brunette stands their nudes before you and you can’t help your eyes as they follow the trail from her hair, hovering between her eyes and her lips before moving on to her supple breasts.

“You like what you see, baby.” She stops your ogling before you move on to her heated core, Jared admiring the way her hips move as she slowly stalks her way to you, quickly stroking his cock before she has a chance to turn around and face him.

“Yes, mommy. You’re so beautiful” You lick at your lips, clenching your lower walls around nothing once more. You wanted her or Jared to fill you up and fuck you so bad. “I just thought of you and I just couldn’t help myself, my p- your pussy was so wet for you. My body is ready to take anything. I just want to please you, Mommy.”

She crawls up the bed, pulling at the back of your neck, pressing her lips to your in a deep, forceful kiss. She allows you to enjoy it for a whole minute before she pulls away and spanks at your wet pussy

“Good, baby, good. I hope you are hungry, little girl.”

I was thinking of turning this into a series? Let me know your thoughts?

Forevers: @super100012 @lupine-princess @plaid-lover-bay25 @atc74 @growningupgeek @sophiebobzz @docharleythegeekqueen @grace-for-sale @mrswhozeewhatsis @jesspfly @supernaturallymarvellous @sammysgirl1997 @roxyspearing @mogaruke @be-amaziing @deanandsamsbitch @frankiea1998 @hennessy0274-blog @iwantthedean @capsheadquaters @emoryhemsworth @notmoose45 @essie1876 @cassieraider @brewsthespirit-blog @its-my-perky-nipples @riversong-sam @jotink78 @captainradicalpassion @jadalecki-jackles-blog @spnbaby-67 @holyfuckloueh @gh0stgurl @alyssa6marie @esoltis280 @alexwinchester23 @x-waywardaf-x @randomparanoid @kellianz @lyarr24

jared: @im-turnip @deans-baby-momma @shamelesslydean @sandlee44 @smoothdogsgirl @plaidstiel-wormstache @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester

#becskinktoberfest #spnkinkbingo #anyfandomgoesbingo #anyfandomkinkbingo #badbitchesbingo #tell me a story bingo #jared x reader smut #jarevieve x reader smut #gen x reader smut #jarevieve smut #jayankles #jayankles writes #bailey writes

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schmweed · 4 years ago

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To be honest, I had every intention of watching Walker simply for new Jared content, but I actually loved the episode!

That closeup of Jared’s kind face was a wonderful beginning! It warmed my heart and lifted my spirits immediately.

I love that Mitch Pileggi is Walker’s dad! So heartwarming to see a face from SPN!

Walker’s son is kind and gentle and I love him. I love that he seems to be aware that his dad is grieving as well. I love how supportive Walker was of his son’s fiddling with Emily’s camera. That look of shared silent grief was touching and sweet.

I love Walker’s son and brother and dad. They’re trying to be kind, be there, and still respect Walker’s grief.

I didn’t like Walker’s mom. She reminds me far too much of so many other parents who insist only they know what’s best for every parent under the sun. That knowing half-glare, half-supposed-to-be-tender look. “We did right by Stella.” I loved that immediately after Walker has to go get Stella from the police station.

I know the “child who resents work because they feel their parent puts it before the child” is both a well-known trope and a real issue for many RL people, but I’ve never understood it, and I can’t relate to Stella at all. I grew up with two hard-working parents and I never felt they put work before us. I remember when the Gulf war happened and all the hospitals in the neighboring countries were put on high alert to receive patients, they were kept at work for over 36 hours at a time. And I never felt like they were putting work before us. It’s fucking work. It’s what they’re doing for us.

This is of course awesome: I enjoy well-written angst, and just because I can’t relate doesn’t mean I don’t get that a ton of other people grapple with this. Like I said, well-known trope and real issue for many people. I’m probably one of many neurodivergents who realize that something may make no sense to us, but are able to acknowledge that it makes perfect sense to many other people.

This is another reason I’m interested in figuring out Walker’s mom and daughter: I like watching characters I relate to and love interact with characters I can’t relate to. It’s proved to be enlightening in the past. It’s helpful to try and understand where the other characters are coming from. and if I still can’t understand, I can at least be aware enough so I don’t turn into what I hate without noticing.

Anyway, kind characters who understand each other and interact like a well-oiled machine would probably make for very poor TV.

I like Micki! I thought I’d only be watching her because I liked Raven a lot from the 100, but there’s not a whiff of Raven about her. It’s a whole new character and I love that while she’s strong, she’s not superwoman. Her boyfriend is hilarious.

I think SPN spoiled me! I was hoping Micki would be single and aro like Sam and Dean, but I don’t begrudge her her boyfriend. I don’t think I will ever be able to wrap my head around how non-aros don’t seem to get tired and bored out of their minds having someone else there. I get it theoretically, though, and I know most characters have to have a love interest. SPN was a beautiful rare exception. <3

I loved Emily. I loved the chance to watch Genevieve act again -- her Ruby was always my favorite. She was good as Emily, and her scene with Walker was sweet.

Walker’s grief was palpable -- also it felt like he’d been grappling with anticipatory grief for a long time, which must make it even harder for him to handle the actual grief when he lost Emily.

The two scenes where he was imagining Emily before him and that helpless smile he gave her -- that was so bittersweet. I think many people who grieved for someone will remember that feeling of succumbing to the memories and wishing the loved one they lost were still there. Again, palpable grief.

The last scene with Walker’s partner-turned-boss promises a lot of angst in the future. Ouch, but yay for the angst!

At the end of the episode I’m curious about what’s coming next, I’m overjoyed at getting to watch Jared again, and I’m here for the Walker family bond, especially what’s shaping up to be a wonderful sibling bond. I love stories around sibling bonds, and I’m glad we get that here.

Most of all, though, I’m glad we get to see Jared tell a story he loves. There wasn’t even one whiff of Sam Winchester about him, which must’ve been quite a feat after 15 years playing him. I also love that he feels safer on this show, and I hope he continues to feel that way. I can’t wait for episode two.

#Walker #Walker spoilers #Cordell Walker #Jared Padalecki

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wonkasmissstarshine · 4 years ago

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The Chocolatier’s Rose {Willy Wonka x OC} Ch.15

GIFs not mine. Credit go to owners.

Summary: Rose is about to marry Harry, but luckily, Charlie and Willy come to her rescue.

Tagging: @holdmeicant @willymywonkers @sleepiesapphicxoxo

Rose stood in front of a mirror in her dressing room, while Harry's sister, Catherine, adjusted the veil that was secured by Rose's braided updo. She was still crying. She was surprised she still had tears left to cry.

Catherine rolled her eyes at Rose. "You have no reason to be crying" She said with an irritated tone. She never understood what Harry saw in this girl. Catherine wished that her brother would end up with another rich girl, but no, he had to pick a poor girl.

Rose glared her eyes at the girl through the mirror. "You don't know what I've been going through these past two weeks!"

"Well you're about to get married, to my brother no less. So, you better start perking up!" Catherine spat. She then muttered to herself, not caring if Rose heard her or not. "My brother could have done so much better than you..."

That felt like a kick in the stomach. Maybe Catherine was right. Who would want to be stuck with Rose Bucket for the rest of their life? Not even Willy wanted to be with her...

"Alright. Are you ready?" Catherine asked, the bitterness still obvious in her tone. She handed the bouquet to Rose. Her favourite flowers weren't even present in the bouquet. It was abundant in lilies and daisies, but none of the very flower she shared her name with. "And wipe that frown off your face! We don't need you ruining all the photos!" Catherine complained.

Geez, when it comes to spoiled families, the Roberts definitely take the gold medal. The Salts would take silver, but knowing Veruca, she'd be demanding to take the gold one.

******

This wasn't the wedding Rose ever envisioned herself having. The music was boring, she'd definitely have the Oompa-Loompas singing as she marched... no, no... danced down the aisle.

And she didn't want to get married in the church. She wanted to get married in that luscious and colourful candy meadow, with a chocolate waterfall as the backdrop for her wedding photos.

She wouldn't be wearing a white dress. She'd be wearing one made of pink and it would be puffy, something that reminded her of cotton candy. And a tiara with candied jewels on her head.

And of course, Harry wasn't the groom in her dream wedding. Her perfect groom would smell like peanuts and chocolate. He'd be dapperly dressed in that velvet red coat, purple gloves, and a top hat. His eyes would be violet, and he'd have the haircut that Charlie found funny, but Rose absolutely loved.

It should be Willy waiting for her on that altar, not Harry.

And the most important thing, Rose's family would be here. There wouldn't be a room full of stuck up, spoiled, snotty snobs silently judging her because of her lack of wealth.

Harry's father walked her down the aisle, and Catherine acted as her only bridesmaid. This definitely wasn't right. Mr Bucket should be walking Rose down the aisle, and Priscilla and Eleanor should be her bridesmaids.

Rose finally joined Harry at the altar. He was smiling at her, but Rose couldn't meet his eyes. The minister looked between the soon-to-be wed couple. He addresses the guests first. "If you'll all please be seated. The ceremony is ready to begin"

The guests sat down and the minister spoke again. "We are gathered here today to celebrate the marriage of Harold Maxwell Roberts, and Rosalie Genevieve Bucket. Before we continue on, is there any reason why these two should not be wed"

"Please, someone speak up!" Rose thought hopefully. No one was objecting. Although, some people looked like they wanted to speak up, but Harry glared at anyone who dared to even blink.

"Let's move on" the minister said, after moments of silence passed. "Can the bride and groom please face each other?" Harry and Rose turned to one another. "We'll start with vows first. Harry, I believe you would like to share first?"

"Yes" Harry said with a curt nod. He pulled out a piece of paper with more writing on it that Rose would have liked. How much could he possibly have to say about her? It's not like he truly loved her!

Harry started reciting his vows. "Rose, it was the very first day I walked into that quaint little pie shop, and I saw you sweeping up the floor. Then you looked at me, and I was immediately taken away with your beauty..." Rose zoned out as Harry droned on.

What was she supposed to say when it came to her vows? I'm only marrying you because I've given up on love.

"And that's why I'm happy, that finally, on this day, you'll finally be mine. And I promise that you will be forever" Harry finished off. Even though Rose was barely paying attention, she did notice a couple things.

One, not once did Rose hear the word 'love' in Harry's vows, and two, she didn't like the way he said 'mine forever'.

If Rose wasn't regretting this before, she definitely was now. But she was too deep into this now, and there was no one here to save her.

The minister turned to Rose. "Do you have anything you'd like to say?"

Rose shook her head and muttered a quiet, "No"

"Very well" the minister nodded. It then came to the part Rose was dreading. The 'I do's'. "Harry, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?"

Harry smiled and nodded, an dark glint coming to his eyes. "I do"

"Rose," the minister started, and Rose swallowed the lump in her throat. "Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?"

Rose's heart beat uncontrollably. Tears were brimming at her eyes. She looked at the seated guests. She didn't like the way they were staring at her.

"I..." Rose's answer was halted when something crashed through the ceiling of the church, making everyone scream in fright. But Rose didn't scream. No, instead she genuinely smiled for the first time in two weeks, when she recognized the glass elevator and the two people inside it.

It was Charlie and Willy. They had come to her rescue.

"What is the meaning of this!?" Harry demanded angrily.

"Charlie! Willy!" Rose exclaimed as the two of them stepped out of the elevator. She grabbed the skirt of her dress and lifted it up so she could run to her two saviours.

"Rose!" Willy smiled at her. "I do hope that we're not too late, because I—" He was cut off when Rose wrapped her arms around him. She held onto him tightly, like she was afraid to let go of him. Her eyes were also closed as she rest her head against his chest.

"I'm glad you're here" She whispered to him.

"You are?" Willy's arms were held out at his sides, like he was afraid to hug her back. He wasn't used to hugs. Especially affectionate ones like this.

"Yes" Rose said softly. "I missed you"

And that's all Willy needed to return the embrace. One arm wrapped around her waist, while the other hand gently cupped the back of her head. His chin rested on the top of her head. "I missed you too, starshine"

Rose opened her eyes, and found herself looking at Charlie, who was grinning brightly at them. "Thank you" She mouthed to him.

"Can someone explain to me why these two are ruining my wedding?" Harry demanded, pointing accusing fingers at the two uninvited guests.

Rose, letting go of Willy, now had the confidence she needed to go off on Harry and his stupid family. "This isn't a wedding anymore, Harry. And you know why? Because I'm no longer marrying you!"

Harry let out a maniac laugh. "Yes, you are. You're going to marry me because I've said so. I've already said I do. Now, you just need to say it, and then we'll be married"

He tried grabbing Rose, but Willy stepped in front of her. "You better not touch her" He warned.

Charlie stepped forward as well. "She doesn't love you. She loves Mr Wonka, and Mr Wonka loves her"

"Really?" Harry scoffed. "They've only really known each other for a day! You can't possibly love someone after only a day!"

Rose glared at him. "That's a bit hypocritical of you, isn't it? Because ever since they day you met me, you've been asking me to marry you!"

"W-well," Harry stuttered, like he was unsure of how to respond. "That's because I love you, silly!"

"Love me!? You don't know anything about me!"

"Of course I do! I know you better than anyone!"

"Oh, really?" Rose challenged him. "Name at least five things you love about me"

"Well, you're... beautiful" Harry answered with a shrug. And that's all he could come up with.

"Rose isn't just beautiful" Willy spoke up. He gazed over at the girl. An adoring smiled danced across his lips. "She's kind, smart and imaginative. She's got the most angelic laugh. You just want to think of ways to make her laugh so you can hear it over and over again. She radiates a scent of vanilla, cinnamon, and chocolate. You can look her in her beautiful eyes, and find yourself getting lost in them for the rest of your life"

Rose was speechless as she heard Willy say those things about her. She had never heard someone, outside her family that is, say such kind things about her.

"There's so much more to Rose than you could possibly imagine" Willy added as he grabbed her hand that wasn't still grasping a bouquet. "And that's why I fell for you, starshine, and I'm sorry for everything I said about....f....f..."

Rose smiled at him. "It's okay, Willy. I forgive you"

"Rosie," Charlie spoke up, making Rose look down at him. "We're going to see Mr Wonka's father. Would you like to come with us?"

"Of course, I would" Rose said.

"No, you're not going anywhere!" Harry protested. "I want you as my wife! And I always get what I want!"

"You know, Harry, you remind me of a spoiled little girl. Do you know what happened to her? She got thrown down a garbage chute by squirrels!" Harry furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, and Willy laughed at the memory. "Now unfortunately, there's no squirrels or a garbage chute for you to be thrown into, but I can do this..."

Rose chucked the bouquet at Harry, hitting him square in the face. All the guests gasped. But Rose didn't stop there. She also reached down, grabbing the skirt of the dress, and ripped off a large piece of it.

"My dress!" Catherine shrieked.

"And one more thing" Rose said, an amused smirk coming across her face. She went over to the table where the cake was. It was a large cake, but it was light enough for her to grab and carry. She brought it over to Harry.

"Don't you dare!" Harry warned her with a glare.

"Oh no, I'm losing my balance" Rose said sarcastically. She purposefully lost her balance, tipping the cake over and making it fall on Harry. "Oops. I'm so clumsy!"

Charlie and Willy stifled in their laughs as all the other guests went into a frenzy. Rose had a pleased smile on her face as she entered the elevator with her brother, and the love of her life.

"That was brilliant, Rosie" Charlie said.

"That's my starshine" Willy said, smiling proudly at Rose, and grasping her hand in his own. Their fingers entwined, fitting together perfectly like two pieces of a puzzle.

Willy reached over and pressed a button. The elevator doors closed and then they were off.

#willy wonka x oc #willy wonka x reader #willy wonka #rose bucket #my oc #rose and willy #the chocolatier's rose

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victoria-daydreams · 4 years ago

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Till Kingdom Come

Chapter One: My Story Is Much Too Sad to be Told

AN: I’m fairly shocked at the reception this story got, I didn’t expect to gain immediate attraction because I posted it at like 3am lol. Nonetheless, I am grateful to all the people who read this story. Once again, this chapter is dark as well. I promise this whole story is not going to be doom and gloom, but it feels inappropriate to even try to glaze over the cruel treatment of slaves in America and to be honest, this chapter is probably just a glimpse of what real life slaves were put through.

Word Count: 3.1k

Trigger Warnings: slavery, violence, physical/mental abuse, racism, racial slurs

Chapter Two: Life Being What It Is

That was seventeen years ago.

Sabine's life had changed for the "better", at least that's what Mistress Genevieve would try to convince her as such. Sabine certainly didn't see it that way, she was still a slave, after all. Not to mention, that the Martin family has for all intents and purposes, mentally and physically scarred her for the rest of her life.

Sabine was fucking miserable on the Martin Plantation.

From the moment Sabine arrived on the plantation as a child, she became something of a pet project to Genevieve. She taught Sabine arithmancy, how to read, write, and to speak proper English and French. This was not out of kindness though, no, this was a source of derision. Whenever Genevieve would host any type of social gathering, Sabine would find herself being paraded around by her Mistress to her guests.

She despised the gatherings with every fiber of her being, she was subjected to the most degrading comments by the party goers.

"Dear me, I didn't know negros had the capacity to learn how to read,"

"Genevieve, you must have the patience of a saint to be willing to teach a member of an illiterate species,"

"You taught the monkey to read and write? What's next Genevieve, music?"

This is what Sabine had been put through for as long as she could remember. Every time she learned and mastered something new, Sabine knew what was to come. She hated the fact that accomplishing something a white person could do was met with oohs and awws in the most mocking fashion from Genevieve's friends. Sabine remembered one night that word had spread at a party that she was fluent in French and for the rest of night she was bombarded with requests of ‘saying something in French’. She felt like an animal in a zoo and she knew that's how most people viewed her in the first place.

"Teach anymore parlor tricks to your pet Genevieve?"

Sabine would internally scowl every time she witnessed Genevieve be lavished in praise by her friends for her work. Isn't it sweet? The benevolent mistress bestowing an education to a lowly slave like herself. The Southern Belle, extending her graciousness to one of her lowliest effects.

Oh, but Sabine would find little ways to carry out her revenge especially as she grew older and was given tasks that held more responsibility. Her favorite way, "accidentally" pulling her mistress' corset too tight or "accidentally" stabbing her in the scalp with hairpins. Her yelps of pain would bring a ghost of smile to Sabine's lips which would instantly vanish if Genevieve turned around to scold her for her carelessness. And of course Sabine would offer a quick apology, telling her mistress that she didn't mean to and will be more mindful in the future. But the second Genevieve left the room, Sabine would let out a snicker only to be popped in the back of the head by Alice, the woman, who's in charge in keeping the rest of the slaves in order.

The blow was not out of malice, further from that really, it was out of love and concern. Alice had been like a mother figure to Sabine since the day she arrived on the plantation.

"One day the Mistress is not going to put up with your 'mistakes'," Alice warned, worry was evident in her eyes.

It wasn't until Sabine would turn sixteen the following year that Alice's warning would finally sink in for her. The most ironic thing about it was the fact that it didn't happen because of one of Sabine's mischievous acts, it happened because of the wandering eyes of Genevieve's husband, Aaron Martin. What's even more ironic, is that Master Martin didn't even want Sabine in the house at first, he wanted to make her a field hand. Genevieve convinced him otherwise, saying that she would be malleable and make the perfect, obedient slave since she had no attachments on their plantation.

She was wrong.

The decision to keep Sabine as a house slave would be one that Genevieve would come to regret, but only out of wounded pride. Sabine, on the other hand, longed for freedom and was desperate to escape the growing tension between Genevieve and Master Martin. She doubted that they knew how many times she fantasized about running away from the plantation. It was more than once as each day passed.

She had good reason to as well, Sabine had noticed that the mistress had been short-tempered with her as of late. And that was never more evident on one fateful day, where everything in Sabine's life seemed to further spiral out of what little control she had.

Sabine wiped down the top of the fireplace on the far wall of the parlor room, humming to herself.

"What's that song?"

Sabine stumbled in surprise of hearing Master Martin's voice, his French accent only slightly there. Pushing away from the fireplace, she tightened her grip around the rag in her hands as she stood at attention. His thin lips were curled up into a smile, a smile that Sabine was sure he thought would put her at ease, it didn't. Matter of fact, the expression had the exact opposite effect, Sabine thought his smile looked like a wound opening. Everything about the forty-five year old man unnerved her, Master Martin had a complexion that teetered between being pale and matte, short, dark brown hair sat on top of his oblong head. His long face made his humped nose prominent, but the most terrifying feature on his face was those piercing gray orbs.

It was the eyes of a predator stalking its prey.

Bowing her head in apology, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you, Master," Sabine apologized, vowing not to hum again.

"You didn't disturb me. What is that song?"

It's something that her mother would sing to her when she was younger. Sabine couldn't remember the words to the song, but she knew how the tune went, it was the only piece of her mother that she had left of her.

Shaking her head, "I don't know," Sabine lied remorselessly.

Instead of letting her get back to her work, Master Martin just continued staring at Sabine, it made her flesh crawl. His eyes traveled from her face before letting them roam down to her neck and then onto her chest. This had become increasingly normal behavior for Master Martin, each week it seemed like he managed to find her alone and just study her figure. His eyes would always linger on her breasts, and that was what made Sabine most uncomfortable in his presence.

Master Martin leaned against the door frame, "You've been filling out your dress quite nicely as of late Cecile," he commented, now looking at slim waist and then her hips as his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

Sabine had to swallow down the bile she felt that might escape her mouth.

"Cecile!" Genevieve's shrill voice called from down the hall. "Cecile! Where are you, you daft girl?!" she yelled, as she stopped right beside her husband. "Aaron, dear, what are you looking-" she began, but cut herself off when she followed her husband's leering gaze. Genevieve's expression hardened and she narrowed her eyes at Sabine, pressing her lips together into a thin line. She stormed over to Sabine and came to a stop in front of her.

"Mistress I-" Sabine started, but Genevieve's hand whipped out and struck her hard across the face. Sabine's head snapped to the side and she lowered her stare to the floor, her breath uneven as she rubbed her cheek.

It was the hardest slap she had ever received.

"You stupid girl! Why are you distracting the Master?" she demanded, glowering at Sabine. "Get out of here and get back to work!" she ordered, her rising temper reflected in her face.

"Yes Mistress," Sabine replied, quickly bowing her head as tears began to well up in her eyes.

"And didn't I tell you to cover that horrid hair of yours? The sight of it is revolting!"

Genevieve had never once demanded Sabine to cover her hair, not until that day. But from that day on, Sabine wore a headscarf religiously to cover her head. Sabine figured that Genevieve's thought process probably fell along the lines of, if Sabine's hair wasn't visible then she'd become less attractive. It was a flawed logic that did nothing of the sort, much to Genevieve's and Sabine's dismay. So, for Sabine, the physical and mental abuse she received from Genevieve increased on a scale that she never experienced before.

The days of Sabine just being a pet to show off to Genevieve's friends to poke fun at her, were long gone.

Genevieve now saw Sabine as competition for Master Martin's attention. Attention that Sabine never wanted in the first place, Genevieve could keep her disgusting husband all to herself for all she cared. But of course, Genevieve would never see it Sabine's way, no, somehow Sabine's at fault for Master Martin's lustful stares.

Things only seemed to get progressively worse for Sabine as the years passed and her body continued to mature. Not only did she draw the unwanted attention from her perverted master, but she unfortunately also captured the eldest son's attention, Marc. He was almost a spitting image of his father, but was by far, worse than him. He's actually touched her in inappropriate ways, too many times for Sabine to recall. At least Master Martin just stared at her, although Sabine was sure that one day he might begin touching her as well, her worst fear was that he would flat out rape her.

Lord knows, Marc had been working his way up to it.

Sabine noticed that he had become increasingly aggressive as of late. And that frightened her to no end. She remembered one time after a dinner party she had to serve in the parlor room where the male guests were playing cards. She had just finished serving a round of drinks to Marc's table and the way he decided to thank her was to roughly squeeze her ass with a disingenuous smile. This action made the men at the table roar with laughter, but all Sabine could feel was mortification.

She wanted to curl up into a ball and cry in the corner of the small shack that she called home.

Sabine wanted to believe that the abuse she was suffering could not get any worse, she thought wrong. For, not only was she terrorized by the Martin's, but Marc's arrogant, smug college friends who often visited the plantation, partook in her torment as well. They would whisper things in her ears that no upstanding, God-fearing gentlemen would ever say to a white woman.

And for having such a supposed repulsion and violent reaction to someone of her complexion, white men sure seem to fancy negro flesh. It was confusing, yet terrifying realization. How could you hate and treat someone with so much scorn, but at the same time want to sleep with them?

Sabine's worst experience with one of Marc's friends was that he managed to corner her and forceful stick his hand up her dress, grabbing her thigh, luckily his hand wasn't able to go any higher thanks to one Alain Martin.

The only kind-hearted Martin in the family.

Alain, the curly headed and bright blue-eyed boy who always had a boyish grin on his face. He actually treated Sabine and the other slaves on the plantation like actual human beings, showing them dignity and respect, something that was completely foreign to them. Sabine wondered how the cruelty that Alain's family gleefully inflicted on the slaves didn't corrupt him and make him turn out like them. Maybe it was because Alain had actually questioned his surroundings as a child and didn't simply just accept what his mother and father told him as fact. She could recall many times Alain saying, ‘that doesn't seem right’ as a child.

And as Alain grew older, he continued to challenge his parents on the practice of slavery, prompting several arguments and debates, especially when it was dinnertime. Sabine had been a witness to quite a few of the shouting matches that would erupt at the table between Alain and Master Martin, Alain would also go at it with his older brother. Marc claimed, 'that because of the negro skull size all they were capable of was menial work and that white people were justified for enslaving them. With no one to oversee the negroes, they would hurt themselves'. This claim only enraged Alain further and Sabine as well.

Sabine had more knowledge in her pinky, than Marc's thick skull.

She pitied Alain, he had become the black sheep of the family. He attended college in the North and his views against slavery had only become stronger. He was an unapologetic abolitionist, which of course was completely the opposite of what his family believed. There would be many times that Sabine found herself listening to Alain as he vented out his frustrations about his family. She didn't mind, because that's what friends do, you let them vent.

However, it was not always like this, the bond they shared now as young adults would seem unimaginable to Sabine when she was younger.

Sabine and Alain had spent a lot of time together as children, but not because she wanted to, at first. The only reason she and Alain were in close proximity all the time, was the fact that she was tasked with fanning him while he had lessons with his tutor. Sabine resented him, they were only two years apart and yet here she was fanning him like he was some type of king. She was cold towards him (as respectfully as possible) and it went on like that for a couple of months, until Alain decided to speak to her when his tutor went inside the house.

"Pssst, Cecile, do you know how to say this word?" he asked, pointing to a word in his book.

Internally, Sabine arched a brow, she didn't know if he was asking out of genuine curiosity or to mock her.

"No sir," she answered, her grip tightening on the fan at the fact that she had to address a fellow child as 'sir'.

"You didn't even look," he argued softly, looking up at her. "Come on, I know you're smart, probably smarter than me," he added, moving the book closer to her eyes.

"Don't let the master and mistress hear that," Sabine remarked mindlessly, before freezing at what she let slip from her mouth.

Sabine expected to hear Alain run from his seat and tell his parents what she said, instead she heard giggles.

"You're funny Cecile," he commented, shaking his head.

A breath of relief left Sabine and she craned her neck, "What's the word, sir?" she asked, her eyes scanning the ink on the page.

"This one," he replied, pointing to the third word on the page.

Sabine nodded her head, "It's glaciers, sir," she said, before looking at Alain.

"Thank you Cecile," he smiled, bringing the book closer to him again.

"Your welcome sir,"

"Alain," he corrected.

"What, sir?" Sabine asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Call me Alain,"

And from that day forward, to some extent a friendship was born. The breaks in between Alain's lessons where his tutor wasn't present, were the only time that the two of them could really speak to each other. Alain did most of the talking, he told Sabine things he probably wasn't supposed to and if his mother ever found what Alain told her, Sabine was sure that Genevieve would just about faint. Sabine on the other hand, was much more reserved on what she was willing to tell Alain. She never told him anything personal, just mainly what she did each day. Sabine was afraid of telling Alain something that could somehow finds its way back to Genevieve. But, as years passed and they slowly matured, Sabine finally felt that she trusted Alain enough to tell him her real name when they were fourteen.

She hadn't heard the name Cecile since.

It was a friendship of secrecy, but that didn't mean Alain wouldn't try to protect Sabine as best he could. Alain could do it overtly, like he done with Marc's friend by yanking him away from Sabine and punching him square in the jaw. Other times, he would opt for more subtle ways that were just as effective. Remember the assault that Sabine suffered in the parlor room? Well, Alain was a witness to his older brother's molesting of her.

Alain strode over to Marc, appearing as though he was going to tell him off, which for Sabine's sake, she hoped he wasn't. It would only lead to further humiliation of her in some sort of fashion and probably Alain as well. Alain approached the table where his brother was playing cards when he suddenly tripped over his feet. Sabine watched in almost awe as the champagne flew in the air before raining down all over Marc, soaking his hair and a part of his evening jacket and dress shirt.

Marc's face turned beet red.

Sabine had to force herself to keep a neutral face, for a grin was threatening to form on her lips followed by uncontrollable laughter.

"You clumsy idiot!" Marc exclaimed, venom laced in his insult.

Alain didn't seem affected by the remark, "I'm so sorry brother," he apologized, without the faintest hint of sincerity in his eyes. "I'll go get some towels for you," he offered, before turning to look at Sabine. "Will you escort me? I would hate for my clumsiness to resort in another mess," he explained, and Sabine nodded.

"Of course sir," she stated, and led Alain out the parlor room.

Once they were in the hallway and out of view from everyone, Alain grabbed Sabine's wrist and pulled her along to the bustling sounds of the kitchen. Entering the room, Alain let go of her wrist and the two of them stared at each other before bursting out in laughter. Sabine felt tears forming in her eyes and used the back of her finger to wipe it away.

"You're going to get an earful from your mother Alain," Sabine warned, with a breathless laugh.

"I don't give a damn," Alain declared, a proud grin on his lips. "Marc deserved it," he added, nodding his head.

Sabine leaned back against the counter, "You didn't have to do that for me," she said, looking over to her friend.

"No," Alain disagreed, vigorously shaking his head. "I had to, Sabine," he corrected, his expression turning serious. "Marc assaulted you. He humiliated you," he continued, his hands bawling up into fists. "Humiliation in return, it was the least I could do," Alain explained, and Sabine ran her hand up and down his arm soothingly. "I know it won't erase what was done to you Sabine, but I had to do something," he finished, his gaze soft as he looked at her.

"It is a small victory I shall revel in for a long time," Sabine said, placing her hand on top of his shoulder. "Thank you, Alain,"

Chapter Three: Steal Away

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therealjordan23 · 4 years ago

Note

i know u usually dont write in the b99 fandom, but can u do some charles boyle angst?

Sure anon :) Takes place after S7E3, Pimemento

ooo

"Boyle?" a voice asked behind him.

Charles swiveled around in his chair to find Rosa staring at him, her expression concerned and confused.

"Hey, Diaz," Charles commented, not bothering to give her another glance, keeping his gaze focused on the case sitting on his desk.

Rosa frowned: it wasn't unusual for anyone to call her Diaz, but coming from Charles? It made her feel uncomfortable, so she set a hand on his shoulder. She noticed him tense up from the contact, and she immediately guessed something had happened between him and Jake.

"What are you doing?"

He let out a groan. "A case, what else?"

Now she was sure something had happened between Charles and Jake. She gripped his shoulder tightly, and spun him around so that he was facing her. To her surprise, Charles didn't shy away from her intense scrutiny like he, or anyone, usually would. He glared right back at her, giving her a harsh look, but Rosa didn't flinch: she knew he wasn't going home, he spent his free days at work, and his wife and son were getting worried. It was also pretty visible that he wasn't acting like his usual self: he was growing out a heavy stubble, there were bags underneath his eyes, and he usually smelled of alcohol. Rosa noticed that he never wore his usual plain shirt, khakis, tie, and dress shoes anymore, opting for a simple NYPD hoodie and jeans. While it wasn't a bad outfit, she knew it wasn't approved by Captain Holt, along with the fact that it was out of character for Charles.

"Take your hand off my shoulder," he mumbled, his voice cold.

"No," Rosa said curtly. "I know something's up, and I want to know what it is. You're never like this."

He let out a harsh laugh, standing up, ripping his shoulder away from her tight grip. "I think that's the problem! Maybe I should be like this more often." With that, he headed towards the evidence room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Rosa spent the day watching the surveillance footage from the evidence room: Charles sat down at the spare desk, finishing cases with alarming speed. He would grab another one off the shelf, and would solve it so fast, she was positive that even Jake couldn't keep up.

Knowing she wasn't going to get to Boyle, she decided to go talk to Jake.

"Peralta," Rosa frowned, crossing her arms, looming over him. "What's up with Boyle?"

Jake frowned. "How should I know? I haven't seen him all day."

"He's in the evidence room, because he doesn't want to face any of us," she said plainly, and his eyes widened.

"Damn," he groaned. "I knew he would make it a big deal."

"Make what a big deal?" Amy asked, stepping over to them.

Jake sighed. "Rosa, remember when Amy told you we were going to try for a baby? Well, Charles didn't know, until last week, when Pimento came in with his memory loss. I told Adrian, because I assumed he would just forget what I told him. But… he didn't, and ended up telling Charles."

Rosa glared at him. "Jake—"

"I know it was wrong, but Amy didn't want him to know. Charles was really hurt, and he said he couldn't remember why we were even friends," Jake ran his fingers through his brown locks. "He was also angry that I kept blowing him off."

"But I thought you fixed all this." Amy frowned.

Jake sighed. "We did… I don't know what the problem is now! If anything, he's the one blowing me off!" Jake cried dramatically.

Rosa nodded. "I'll go talk to him."

She walked towards the evidence room, and knocked on the door. "Boyle, open ip. It's me. I need an old case file."

Rosa heard him trudge towards the door, and he slowly unlocked it, not bothering to look at her. He walked back to the spare desk that lied in the evidence room, keeping his eyes on the case. Rosa shut the door, locking it behind her.

"Alright. We need to talk."

Charles stared at her in disbelief. "You lied to me just to get in here?"

Rosa rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Tell me what's wrong, Charles. This isn't you."

He smirked. "Well, maybe I'm sick of being myself. Maybe… maybe if I wasn't myself, Amy would have trusted me with the news of her and Jake trying for a baby. Face it, Diaz, I'm just not one of the gang. I'm not you, or Holt, or Amy, or Terry, or Gina! I'm just… on the sidelines, connected to Jake: somebody who doesn't even want to be connected to me." Charles shut the last case he was working on, and let out a small groan.

Before Rosa could reply to the shocking words he had just said, he added, "Can you tell Holt that I'm going to go home? Niko will still be at school, and Genevieve won't be home for another 2 hours. Maybe I can get a quick shower in."

Rosa felt her heart shatter at the sight of the man who knew her best falling apart—she wanted to help, but how could she? These were Boyle's own feelings of not feeling adequate or as "in" as the rest of the group. He felt like a black sheep, and that was understandable. How was she supposed to help? What was she supposed to say? It was usually Charles reassuring the group, Charles holding them together, Charles giving them advice: they had been so busy with their own problems, that they were completely oblivious to Boyle's misery.

They were selfish.

Boyle grabbed his things, and before he could exit, he turned to her. "You know? After my divorce, there were only a few things keeping me from falling apart: my parents, my dogs, and… and this precinct, including the people in it. I care about everyone here more than myself… it just hurts to know that they don't feel the same way."

With that, he left her alone inside the evidence room. She eyed the desk where he had been working, and sat down at the vacant chair.

ooo

There was a gentle tap on her shoulder, followed by another persistent tap.

"Rosa?"

Rosa blinked. Where was she?

"Amy? God… where am I?" she asked, rubbing her eyes.

"The evidence room. You've been in here for almost 2 hours." Amy frowned.

Rosa stretched. "I guess I was just… thinking."

Amy leaned on the desk. "About?"

"Boyle," Rosa answered. "And how awful we are to him."

Amy snorted, and opened her mouth to protest. "Rosa—"

"Amy!" Rosa snapped. "He keeps this precinct glued together! He makes sure we're okay, he supports Jake to no end. In fact, his and Jake's friendship is one sided! Have you ever seen Jake supporting Charles, to the extent that Charles supports him?!" she began ranting.

Amy was taken aback. "Rosa, you need to calm down—"

"No!" Rosa snapped. "He took 2 bullets for me! We spent 2 years calling him Mr. Grapes, which I know was a joke, but it must have been hurting him! He… he loves us, but we haven't been great about showing him that we love him back. That's why he's been down! That's why he's been avoiding us, his family, and it's also why he's been staying here, solving more cases than you and Jake solved during your little bet!"

Amy scoffed. "That's impossible… Charles isn't even that smart, he can't—'"

Rosa shoved one of his finished case files into her hands, and she opened it, studying the contents. Amy's eyes widened: his notes were clean and detailed, his writeup went above Holt's expectations…

"He said he was too afraid to 'take anyone's thunder'." Amy managed weakly, the truth of Rosa's words sinking into her.

"Because he puts other people's needs in front of his own," Rosa said quietly and bitterly. "Remember that airplane ride back to Brooklyn? After you gained intel on Figgis? Who was reassuring you?"

"Boyle was."

"Who convinced Jake to carry on with your relationship?" Rosa prompted.

"Boyle did."

Rosa seethed. "Who set up your goddamn wedding?!"

Amy grew annoyed. "Boyle did!"

Rosa chuckled. "And you couldn't trust him with the fact that you and Jake were trying for a baby."

Amy felt tears prick her eyes. "I didn't know it would hurt him that bad!"

"Because we don't care about his emotions!" Rosa cried. "He cares about us, but we don't care about him… what kind of friends are we?"

With that, Rosa left Amy inside the evidence room. She grabbed her motorcycle helmet: if Amy was right about the fact that she had fallen asleep for 2 hours, Boyle should have just been leaving his house, especially if he didn't want to be discovered by his wife and son.

"Detective Diaz!" Holt called, but Rosa ignored him. She ran towards the stairwell, dashing for her motorcycle. She needed to see him. She needed to talk to him.

Amy ran out of the evidence room. "Where did she go?"

Jake frowned. "She left, and took her motorcycle helmet and left. What's wrong?"

Amy grabbed her keys. "I just watched the surveillance footage, before Boyle left the building. He looked really hurt. I think he's in trouble." Before Jake could ask anymore questions, Amy left the precinct, and Jake was quick to follow.

ooo

Rosa pulled up to the Boyle household, inspecting the building: his car was still out, so he had to be here.

"Charles!" Rosa snapped, pounding the door.

When there was no answer, she felt a sinking feeling in her gut, and she didn't hesitate to grab her gun. She found herself shooting the doorknob, and kicking the door down.

She heard soft sobs coming from Nikolaj's bedroom, so she quietly crept her way towards it.

"I'm so sorry, buddy," Charles whimpered, clutching his son's shirt. "I thought I'd be strong enough for this, but I… I can't do this." he sniffled.

Her eyes widened when she spotted a knife near him. When he reached for it, she didn't hesitate to kick the door open. She tackled him, and punched him across the jaw—he didn't get angry like she expected, in fact, he didn't respond at all. He squeezed his eyes shut, allowing his tears to flow freely, and Rosa pulled him into a hug: they stayed like that, with her holding him, running her hands through his hair. He buried his face into her chest, and she felt her jacket become wet with his tears, but she didn't care.

That's how Jake and Amy found them: with Charles clutching onto Rosa for dear life, a knife just a few feet away from them. Jake slowly walked inside the bedroom, dropped onto his knees, and wrapped both Rosa and Charles in a hug, gently resting his chin on top of Boyle's head. Amy was quick to join, wrapping her arms around Boyle's waist, pulling him in close.

No context was needed.

ooo

I love Charles and Rosa’s friendship.

I know I made Jake and Amy seem like antagonists here, but the sad part is, it isn’t even that far off from their usual behaviour towards Charles. It doesn’t sit right with me when he’s treated like shit, so... guess I just made my own form of justice for him.

#brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn nine-nine #b99 #charles boyle #jake peralta #rosa diaz #amy santiago #pimemento #ask #fic #angst

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yaffles-world · 4 years ago

Text

Jealousy - Jonathon Joestar X Dio Brando

Jonathon and Dio’s childhood was fueled by rivalry. A constant competition resulted, although from different motivations. Jonathon was self driven, wanted to be the best version of himself that he could be and merely wanted love and acknowledgement. Dio, on the other hand, was constantly driven by a high ambition to be the best and most powerful person there ever was. Although driven by opposite forces their world’s did collide – quite spectacularly.

If Jonathon got higher marks in his classes, Dio would scorn him and insult him in other ways to try and drag him down, to discredit him. If Dio got higher score in sports, Jonathon would be there, politely congratulating him, but inside it would add to a burning desire to improve himself.

As the boys got older, things began to change.

One day, after school, Jonathon and Mr Joestar were in the dining room. The door creaked open and Dio stepped inside the house. Beside him was a girl. A girl with long, wavy hair and sparkling, amber eyes. Her hand was lingering slightly away from his waist, not seeming to know what to do with it. Her pale cheeks had a faint blush to them as Dio spoke.

“Mr Joestar, JoJo,” as Dio looked at Jonathon, Jonathon felt a pit form in his stomach for some reason. “This is Genevieve, we are in the same legal class and she has come so we can study together.”

“Well, isn’t that wonderful?” Mr Joestar replied.

“Nice to meet you, Genevieve,” JoJo rose from his chair, putting his book aside and bowing slightly to the lady.

Over the coming months, Jonathon felt really quite odd. He spent all his time thinking about Dio and Genevieve – he couldn’t focus on anything.

His grades were slipping, his sport scores, all despite his best efforts. He criticised himself constantly, about how he couldn’t do it – Dio had a girlfriend and he still kept up exceptionally in school. Dio’s taunts took on a new feeling for JoJo that he couldn’t put his finger on.

JoJo felt trapped. He couldn’t win this. There was no way. Dio was with Genevieve. And everything was different. He’d always felt competitive before, and it sometimes reached the point of obsession, but this just didn’t make sense. Dio was with Genevieve. That was an entirely solo commitment. It wasn’t something Dio could be bested at, like grades or sport, but he still felt fueled by a similar type of passion.

One night, JoJo was studying for an archeology exam. He was trying so hard to focus, his door was closed and he was hitting the books. Every time he thought about Dio and Genevieve, he slapped his hand. It was a strategy he’d thought of a month ago – it hadn’t worked yet but he was out of ideas.

Dio opened the door. JoJo looked over to see Dio being framed by the light glowing from the hall, his amber eyes twinkling with God knows what – mischief, sadism, genuine joy, there was no way to tell.

“Studying hard again, I see?” Dio laughed, “Wonder if it will actually pay off.”

“Leave me alone, Dio,” Jonathon replied, firmly, returning to look at his books.

“What has been going on with you lately?” Dio mused, wandering into the room, “You’ve really been failing, haven’t you? What’s getting you down?”

Dio sat down on the bed, chin in his hands looking up at the window, with mock seriousness.

“For the last time, Dio, leave me alone.” By now JoJo knew what Dio was trying to do – he’d lived with him long enough that it was one of his favourite things was to get a rise out of people, especially JoJo.

“Hmm, I don’t think I will,” Jonathon started to blush slightly, “Is it a girl?”

JoJo tried to cover his face and stared furiously at the book, willing this nightmare to end.

“Ah, it is a girl,” Dio teased, “who is it? Probably some lame girl in one of your classes.”

Jonathon’s throat began to tighten and his heart rate picked up. He continued to ignore him, trying desperately to study. He needed to pass this exam, why wasn’t he able to focus? It was infuriating.

“Oooh, or is it Genevieve? Very naughty, gentlemen JoJo going after a taken lady. Well, she’s too good to go out with you anyway.”

Just. Ignore. Jonathon pleaded with himself.

“Or, naughty Jonathon Joestar,” Dio had gotten closer, it sounded like he was about a meter or so behind him but he still didn’t acknowledge him. His face continued to heat up despite his silent protestations – for some reason, Dio saying his name like that made him furious. The light was on, and if Dio saw JoJo's reaction, JoJo would never hear the end of it.

“Is it me?” Dio whispered directly into JoJo’s ear. His face flushed intensely and he began to sweat more, and he could feel Dio's smirk continue to curl more menacingly as he noticed JoJo's embarrassment.

“We all want what we can’t have,” Dio whispered, and then rose again to walk out the door. “Figure it out. It’s been too easy to win lately.”

JoJo’s one love in his life, the only thing keeping him somewhat sane, was his gorgeous horse. The horses name was Teresa. She had a dark brown body with lighter coloured tail, mane and socks.

One day, months after the incident with Dio, JoJo went down to the stables. He gave Remi a pat, Dio’s surprisingly gentle horse, and went to Teresa.

“Why can’t I focus, Teresa?” JoJo muttered out loud. Teresa just neighed sympathetically.

“Why do I keep fixating on this stuff? I’m at a loss for describing my own feelings...” JoJo said, “Do I like Genevieve? I keep thinking about her and...” Jonathon shut off his thought immediately. No, he scolded, either you like Genevieve or your jealous. Don’t let him into your head.

“And who, naughty Jonathon Joestar?” Jonathon turned around with a start. Dio had appeared in the doorway of the barn.

“Can you stop calling me that? I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Haven’t you?” Dio wandered over to Remi and stroked her nose, “Listen, I’m so bored. I can’t believe I’m saying this but I miss the competition. Why don’t we just have a race with these horses, okay? Shouldn’t be that difficult,right?”

“No, I’ll pass, I’m going to go back inside,” Jonathon started to move towards the door but Dio blocked his way. They were the same height, but Jonathon couldn’t help but be embarrassed by Dio’s commanding presence. “Just go and hang out with Genevieve.” Jonathon looked down and he couldn’t help but blush when he said her name. Maybe I do like her, he thought.

“Genevieve can wait. I dare you to race me and try and win.”

And with that... they saddled up their horses and lead them out of the stable.

What's the harm? Thought Jonathon, I might even win.

They set the parameters of the course and then they were off. Dio started out in the lead, guiding Remi with ease down this course like they'd done it millions of times before. It was a relatively open track but there was still heavy trees blocking the way, and many hazardous roots. Slowly, JoJo began to catch up.

Was this... fun? Jonathon thought. It had been such a long time since they had done something together. They did get along in their own weird way.

As the end of the track neared both boys encouraged their horses and pushed them through that last bit. Right at the end, as they approached the barn again, Jonathon pulled out in front and won. As they slowed, Dio clapped, possibly sarcastically but it was unclear.

“Well, I suppose you completed the dare. You can go back inside now or we could have some more fun.”

“I dare you to race me again,” Jonathon said.

Dio laughed. “Nope,” he said as he lead Remi back into her part of the stable.

They both sat on the hay up against the wall. “Dare you to... eat this piece of hay.”

“Lame,” chided Dio.

“Okay, cut off this bunch of hair.” JoJo grabbed at a bunch of Dio's hair that was pulled back for riding.

Dio sighed. Jonathon knew his pride wouldn’t let him refuse.

So Dio cut his hair.

“So, what is up with you anyway?”

“Oh God, not this again,” groaned JoJo.

Dio continued to look at him, intensely. “Well, it’s just girl troubles.... I guess...” Jonathon said, looking at Dio as he sadly cradled his hair in his hands

“I felt the same,” Dio replied, startling JoJo with his genuine tone, “I was crazy about Genevieve... I just acted on it quicker and didn't, you know, “ Dio gestured vaguely at JoJo, “lose it. Who’s the girl?”

Dio’s soft expression made JoJo’s heart twist unexpectedly – blushing, he turned away, waving his hand dismissively. “It’s no one important. Anyway, it’s your turn.”

“I dare you to kiss Remi,” Dio said.

“Lame,” JoJo retorted, mockingly.

“Teresa would get pretty jealous but if you insist,” Dio laughed, “I can give you another dare.”

JoJo nodded and Dio finally parted with his few locks of hair that were now missing. His hair looked mostly the same but you could tell that it had been cut.

Dio smiled. “I dare you to kiss me.”

JoJo blushed heavier then he had ever done before. His hands began to shake, and the light warning up the barn seemed to become dense, suffocating... judgemental.

Do I... like Dio? Jonathon thought, perplexed.

“Uhh,” JoJo stammered, “what? We can't do that. That's...”

“You've been a very naughty boy, Jonathon Joestar.”

JoJo scanned Dio’s face desperately to see if he was joking or manipulating JoJo but to JoJo's surprise and confusion, he really wasn’t.

Dio smiled. “Do it. I'm serious.”

JoJo hesitantly leaned in to Dio, waiting for him to pull away but he didn't. They're lips made contact and JoJo, finally, after months and months of agony, felt at peace. He pulled away.

“But that was just a dare, right? It didn't mean anything?” JoJo asked.

Dio leaned in and kissed JoJo.

“That wasn't,” Dio said.

“But... what about Genevieve?”

“Honestly, you were the ‘girl’ I was crazy about Jonathon. I didn't understand my feelings and I assumed it must've been for Genevieve. She did help distract me but... we broke up a month ago. Don't worry, I actually did let her down easy.”

“But... what does this mean? For the future?” JoJo asked.

“For God’s sakes, JoJo, just shut up.”

“Make me.”

And he did.

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fitzcarmichael · 4 years ago

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[ ROSS LYNCH. CIS MALE. HE/HIM. ] [ FITZGERALD “FITZ” CARMICHAEL ] is a [ TWENTY-TWO ] year old [ LIFEGUARD ] at camp reviere. [ HE ] makes me think of [ BLACKED OUT FACES ON A FAMILY PORTRAIT, NEVER BEING ABLE TO WIPE THE RED OF BLOOD OFF YOUR HANDS, THE STARS ALIGNED AGAINST YOU, AND TRYING TO PUT SOMETHING BACK TOGETHER ]. their favorite horror movie is [ THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE ] and they remind me of [ MICHAEL AFTON ]. [ filene. 19. pst. she/her. ]

i know i said the last one was the last one but i swear this one is the actual last one,,,i think BUT ANYWAY HOPEFULLY BY NOW YOU GET THE GIST OF THINGS also this is really bad my apologies THIS IS MY FOURTH ONE MY BRAIN IS BROKEN

trigger warnings: death, murder, this is my most dark one there’s a lot of death so !! watch out

coming from an affluent family, a young fitz always thought he had a good life, he was even a little spoiled. his father was a businessman, a good one too, always having a finger in any big business in their area and doing his part behind the scenes. they weren’t a household name or someone you’d immediately recognize as the carmichael family, but they were more well off than you’d expect.

a child you never really care to know the details of your parents work, just that they go off to do it and not to bother them if they had to bring any home, you just minded your business and do whatever it was that kept you entertained as a child. his father was always working, but nonetheless they were a perfect nuclear family. his father in his designer suits, his mother a housewife straight out of the 50′s, and he was the eldest of two boys. they were picture perfect, everything the american family could be.

he was a spoiled kid, a brat and a bully even, especially to his younger brother. always giving him wedgies, taking his toys and putting them up in places he couldn’t reach, watching as he tried to reach it and never could, getting all his friends together to scare his brother until he cried. it was all fun and games, the regular cruelty an older sibling played on their younger brother. until it went to far.

he didn’t mean it, it was all for fun, it was all a joke, him and his friends wearing halloween masks as they babysat one night and chased him around the house. they turned all the lights off, kept it pitch black, really wanting to scare him. it worked, in the darkness they could hear his brothers sobs amongst their laughter, waiting to take the masks off and put him to bed after what they considered a prank. there was no accounting for him getting so scared he opened the door and ran into the street for help, no accounting for the car speeding through their neighborhood not expecting a little boy to run right in front of it.

fitz and his friends were stunned, frozen, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. his friends had to run inside, call the police and call their parents, shaking him as he stood there and stared, screaming at him to call his parents to get home now. none of it felt real, he doesn’t even remember making the call, doesn’t even remember everyone’s reaction when the ambulance came too late. he just remembers waking up and being an only child and being told it was his fault.

their family was in disarray, his father throwing himself further in his work and his mother throwing herself further away from the family. she could hardly stand to look at fitz now, and fitz couldn’t even tell if this behavior was odd from his father or if this is how he always was. he never paid much attention before but he did now, and he couldn’t even tell if this effected him at all.

a year later his mother left them, and their once perfect family was truly broken apart, an empty house with him and his father and fitz just a shell of his former self. he didn’t know where to go from here, what to do or how to act, still stunned by everything that had happened. his father was no help, more like a faceless entity in a designer suit, sitting with him for dinner and placing a hard hand on his shoulder as he left, and fitz didn’t know if that was his way of showing affection or a silent way to put him in his place. maybe it was both. but fitz was quickly learning that the man he shared a bloodline and a house with was a stranger to him.

still, they went on with life like they had to, fitz went to school and grew up always having that guilt over his head, always being known as the boy who caused his brother to die. he became a bit of a loner, wallowing in his emotions and self pity, preferring to spend his nights alone in his cold house.

he grew more suspicious of his father, the late night phone calls he’d make with his office doors locked, his apprehension and denial whenever fitz asked to learn more about his business. he always told him he’d tell him more one day, when he was ready to learn more about what it took to be a real businessman. still, none of that felt genuine, because he didn’t understand what would be so hard for him to understand of owning a convenience store chain amongst the other shops in their town.

there was something off, he just knew it, and he found out soon enough. his father always disappeared late at night, past any hours any actual business would need any worker for, and fitz was tired of his lies. so he followed him, and when he found out the truth he wished he had kept living in ignorance.

his father was not a good man, not at all. when he found him he couldn’t hide, not with his shock and disgust, and that moment was the most his father had truly spoken to him and shown actual emotion. his bloody hand resting on fitz’s cheek, telling him “we’re the same, we’ve both done this” and “everything i’ve done has been for you”.

fitz ran, he ran as far as he could straight home. yet again he was shocked, stunned, he couldn’t think or move or do anything. he knew he should call, call 911, do something but he couldn’t do anything. he went to bed and told himself he would in the morning, his brain still not letting him process it all. by the time he woke up his fathers stuff was gone and he knew he was an idiot for not doing anything, for being such a coward. his father was a smart man too, he knew how to get away with something, he knew how to win.

fitz knew the only way to fix this was to do it himself, so he dropped everything and dedicated his life to finding his father. that’s what lead him to camp reverie, he had a percentage in owning it despite not having much to actually do with it, but this was the last place on his long list to go to in hopes of finding something to track his father.

personality & hc’s:

like i said before he’s kind of a loner, but more so in the way he puts that on himself. he’s scared of getting close to people and getting hurt, but he doesn’t completely lack social skills and if someone is nice to him he’ll be nice right back.

he never really cared or wanted to take over after his father, more of a lowkey “fuck the system” type.

he smokes cigarettes way too much, evident by his hollowed out cheeks. he’s also the guy who despite being on a mission brought a shit ton of alcohol and weed. i mean, it helps to get information when someones under the influence.

he’s totally that guy who got high alone in his room every night of high school that’s not much of a headcanon i just have to say that.

wc’s:

fwb or a random hookup

more as a slow burn but someone who eventually becomes his confidant and ally THOUGH IT WOULD BE REALLY HARD FOR HIM TO OPEN UP

i never really had a set place for where he grew up (not in st. genevieve tho) so potentially someone he knows or grew up with or met SOMEHOW

#1984intro

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queen-erika-the-songful · 5 years ago

Note

003 Erika & Starlight, for the ask meme~

Of course!

_____________________________________________________________

ERIKA: 003 | Give me a character & I will tell you:

How I feel about this character:

She’s my inspiration. I want to be as strong and loyal as her. She’s also a big influence on what made me really come to love music and singing the way I do. Overall, I’m grateful for her.

Any/all the people I ship romantically with this character:

Dominick, Anneliese, Julian. It’s an OT4 after all :D

My favorite non-romantic relationship for this character:

Wolfie. They’ve been through so much together and I love their bond. I actually have a headcanon that Wolfie was raised by a street dog, which is why he barks, and they would wait outside Madam Carp’s sometimes for food scraps. When the dog (Erika called her Rose) died, Erika took Wolfie in and kept him in the shop with her. The only reason Madam Carp didn’t object is because one of her friends thought it was “so good and classy” of her to let "the poor little kitty” stay with the seamstresses.

My unpopular opinion about this character:

She gets too much attention in comparison to Annelise!! I mean yeah that’s rich coming from someone whose username is modeled after her, but whatever I’m still right.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon:

I wish we had actually gotten to hear her singing in the palace for Anneliese and Queen Genevieve and whoever else. (The part where she sings with Dominick doesn’t count).

Favorite friendship for this character:

Anneliese. The fact that Erika found someone that felt as trapped as her and immediately bonded with her is amazing. I love how much she’s willing to sacrifice to help get her back, even if it costs her the little freedom she has left.

My crossover ship:

Honestly, I’ve never thought about it before LOL. I don’t think I have one.

________________________________________________________________

STARLIGHT: 003 | Give me a character & I will tell you:

How I feel about this character:

I can’t believe how much I needed her in my life. Watching SLA again and seeing a character that acts like me was something I was not expecting to cry over but I did. She’s a light in the dark.

Any/all the people I ship romantically with this character:

Sal-Lee. I like to think that Starlight doesn’t even realize she has romantic feelings for Sal-Lee for a while because she’s got such a “celebrity” crush on her. Sal-Lee, on the other hand, oh BOY does she catch the feels HARD.

My favorite non-romantic relationship for this character:

Leo!! They just have this great sibling chemistry to them. I really like how encouraging Leo is with her, especially when she’s not feeling confident.

My unpopular opinion about this character:

Okay I know I’m opening up a super old can of worms here but SHE’S NOT. SPACE. ELSA. Sidebraid + powers =/= Elsa. That joke was funny ONE time. Seriously, F off if you think she’s some kind of Elsa rip-off.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon:

Discovery that she was actually half-star/related to the Heart of the Galaxy in some way. I mean, I guess we don’t really need an explanation to why someone is “the chosen one” in a prophecy story, but that’s exactly why a lot of prophecy stories are boring - there’s no reason to think about it. If Starlight’s Mom had been a Star or the embodiment of the Heart of the Galaxy, it would’ve been so cool because then Starlight being the chosen one would’ve made sense and it just could’be been cool in general. Also, I wish the writers had delved a bit deeper into her connection with music and dancing since that’s what helped to bring the stars back to life.

Favorite friendship for this character:

The whole Space Squad. Need I say more?

My crossover ship:

Same as Erika, I just never thought about it before.

#asks #locktore #barbie movies #queen erika #barbie as the princess and the pauper #princess starlight #barbie: star light adventure

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eviesmyspiritanimal · 5 years ago

Text

Never Again

Summary: Evie and Mal are at a New Year’s Party when the two suffer from an interesting incident that no one counted on. When Uma and Ben get involved, it becomes a seriously wild night. Sister/best friend feels, Bal, Huma if you squint, and Jaudrey.

“Evie, I really didn’t want to come to this.”

“M, you’re the queen, and it’s your party. It’s kind of your job to show up,” Evie replied, her hand resting on the small of Mal’s back as she gently guided the shorter girl in the loud, noisy room.

They were currently in attendance of the New Year’s Party that Mal had deemed necessary to take place. However, despite Mal’s part in planning the party, she really didn’t want to attend. She wanted everyone to be able to enjoy the party, but she didn’t actually want to be social herself.

Before Evie had time to even start to push the both of them in the midst of the crowd, Mal spun around to face Evie. The bluenette accidentally bumped into the faerie gently, and Evie paused to look down at the girl standing directly before her. Mal had suddenly mustered the queenliest posture and smile that she could manage as she eyed Evie regally.

“Genevieve Grimhilde, I hereby pronounce you-”

“No.”

“Why not?” Mal whined, and Evie took her arms, spinning her around to face the crowd.

“Because you’ve already tried to make me Queen for a Day six times this week,” Evie replied simply, continuing in her guiding of Mal.

“There’s Ben,” Evie quickly pointed out, and Mal smiled slightly at the sight of her husband. Evie grinned, pleased that she could distract the faerie from her road of belligerence.

“Why don’t you go see him, and I’ll catch up to you in a few? I know that you’ll be fine. It’s just that initial crowd jitters. You always get over it in five minutes,” Evie informed her easily, cradling the other girl’s cheek in her hand, stroking it with her thumb.

Mal sighed, knowing that Evie was right. It was just that beginning nervousness that was always difficult for her to bear. Mal breathed deeply, exhaling fully before offering Evie a smile, leaning into her best friend’s touch.

“Thank you, Evie.”

“You’re welcome. Now, go partay,” Evie winked and Mal chuckled at her before turning to go.

“Love ya!” Mal called, and Evie beamed back at her.

“Love you, too!”

Evie watched as Mal walked away through the crowd to go and see Ben. Once she saw that Mal had made it to her husband okay, she smiled sweetly, turning and making her way over toward the bar.

Evie finally pushed over to the bar and she stood before it carefully, folding her hands in front of her sweetly.

“Can I have some iced tea, please?” Evie ordered kindly, looking at the bartender there. He seemed to be overly focused on his phone, so Evie averted her gaze for a moment, thinking she might try again in a few moments as she actually allowed herself to look at the party.

Evie looked around absentmindedly, taking in the entire party scene as she spotted Mal dancing with Ben in the midst of all of the people. She was really glad that Mal seemed to be fine now. Evie smiled lovingly at their sweetness as Ben leaned in close to Mal’s ear before pressing his nose against her own. Those two really were her favorite couple in the midst of all of her friends.

“Grab yourself one over there,” the bartender finally instructed as he pulled her from her thoughts, gesturing in a vague direction as he dedicated most of his time to watching his phone. Despite that, Evie was sure to give him an especially sweet smile as she approached the glasses of tea. She saw two seemingly separated groups of tea, and she shrugged, taking a drink confidently.

“Thank you very much, sir,” Evie told him, taking a huge swig of the liquid and not even noticing as he glanced up and gaped at her in pure shock.

The first thing that hit her was that it certainly didn’t taste like an iced tea at all. It was more like coke with some really sour-tasting ingredients that didn’t mix well at all in Evie’s stomach as soon as it went down.

However, Evie kept her face perfectly neutral and even mustered a smile as she looked at the man.

“It’s pretty good,” Evie lied, attempting desperately to keep her face from expressing any of her true emotions surrounding the drink.

“Really?” he asked her, eyeing her with a disbelieving gaze as he appeared to be very uncomfortable.

“Of course,” Evie effortlessly replied, taking another large sip of the stuff in hopes that she could down it quickly. Evie blinked a few times, suddenly feeling terribly dizzy. It must have been the large swallow coupled with the increasingly sick, odd feeling in her guts.

He watched Evie carefully, and despite how absolutely disgusting the drink was, Evie felt that she needed to at least come close to finishing it, since it was only polite and he surely put a lot of work into making the drink. Evie blearily gazed in Mal’s direction as she took another big gulp.

Evie guzzled what was left in the glass and she suddenly felt this strangely bubbly sensation in her stomach as she shook her head slowly, taking it in.

“Ma’am, are you feeling okay?” the bartender questioned carefully, and Evie offered him barely a glance as her gaze fell.

Evie stared at the wood of the bar for a moment, trying to recollect herself. However, after a moment, she couldn’t remember what in the world that she was even trying to collect herself from.

She didn’t stop looking at the wood, though, and she wasn’t sure how long she had been looking at it before she suddenly noticed that a dark spot in the wood looked strangely a lot like Maleficent’s horns. Evie giggled, grinning widely as she thought of Mal’s mother. Evie then quickly looked up, remembering her best friend as she looked all around.

Evie almost felt like crying when she realized that she couldn’t see Mal anywhere, but she quickly grew infinitely more cheerful once she saw Mal not too far away talking to Audrey.

Evie then looked over to the bartender quickly, a huge smile on her face in the midst of her pure joy in seeing Mal, one of her most favorite people.

“That’s my best friend!” Evie suddenly announced in a whisper, and the bartender leaned back away from her. Evie furrowed her brow, but mostly remained happy. He almost acted as if Evie was being loud. Of course, that was ridiculous. After all, Evie was most assuredly whispering.

“Okay,” he replied carefully, and Evie nodded quickly, pointing at the faerie.

“Don’t tell nobody, though! I don’t want them to steal her! She’s mine!” Evie informed the man, and he just watched her with a strange look on his face.

“But I can introduce you to her!” Evie cheerfully told the bartender and offered him an enormous smile as Evie turned more fully toward her sister. Evie put her hands on either side of her mouth, barely resisting the urge to laugh at the oddness of the entire gesture. Who seriously thought that putting one’s hands on the sides of their mouth? It just looked completely stupid.

“Mal?! Mal?!” Evie called the purple-haired girl and was very disappointed when she realized that Mal must not have been able to hear her beckoning. Evie pursed her lips as she considered what she could do to get Mal’s attention. Suddenly, a really great idea came to mind as she looked at the bar before her.

Evie stood up, putting her knee on the barstool as she hoisted her other leg onto the surface before her. Evie then very carefully stood up on the bar and looked around as she suddenly realized that she completely forgot what she was about to do. Evie brought her gaze down as she noticed that she was on an elevated surface.

“Ooh, a stage!” Evie cried and she proudly did her best position, knowing the perfect song that she was going to perform for all of the people that were around to see her do her great show.

“Let me tell you something you can really trust-”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“Hey, Thorn,” Mal greeted, raising her voice slightly over the noise in the room, and Audrey turned to face her. Immediately, the pink princess’ face lit up in a grin as she hugged the other girl tightly. Mal wrapped an arm around Audrey firmly, squeezing her fondly before pulling away.

“Hey!” Audrey reciprocated her greeting without hesitation, and Mal shared a smile with her.

“So, are you having any fun?” Mal asked, and Audrey nodded emphatically.

“Yeah! It’s really great,” Audrey complimented with a somewhat awkward look on her face. Mal eyed her sympathetically, knowing that the party scene had been difficult for Audrey to get back into after the Queen of Mean drama.

“Have you danced yet?” Mal asked her, and Audrey shrugged, a sudden blush dusting her cheeks as she avoided Mal’s gaze. Mal raised an eyebrow and suddenly noticed how Audrey’s outfit and hair was slightly less than perfect and her lipstick was smeared.

“Let me clarify myself: have you engaged in the spit-swap polka?” Mal questioned, and Audrey immediately went even more red if it was humanly possible.

“Audrey…”

“Yes, I have. How is it obvious?” Audrey embarrassedly demanded, and Mal just chuckled, shaking her head.

“Something about your lipstick being all around your lips but not on them.” Audrey’s eyes went wide in mortification as she wiped at her mouth with a napkin taken from the table just behind her.

“So, we’re getting started early before twelve o’clock, huh? Whose face did you go sucking?” Mal asked with a no-nonsense tone, and despite Audrey’s tight-lipped stance, her glance betrayed her as it lingered on a particular former thief.

Mal’s lips curled into a wicked grin as she opened her mouth to say something snarky to the princess, but suddenly, a very familiar voice drifted to her ears. Mal turned around, looking to where she had left her best friend by the bar to get something to drink.

“Let me tell you something you can really trust, don’t go drinking any of this stuff!”

Evie was currently standing on top of the bar in front of absolutely everyone at the party, starting into some ridiculous random song as she did all kinds of weird movements and began something that looked like a poorly executed dance routine.

“What is she doing?!” Audrey demanded, pulling Mal from her disturbed staring.

“I don’t know, but I’m about to find out,” Mal muttered under her breath before shaking her head, pushing past everyone around as she tried to get to her best friend.

“There’s a party goin’ down this Summer night, and the DJ’s slayin’ it all night!” Evie pointed at the person controlling the playlist for that night. He raised an eyebrow and lowered his sunglasses as he looked at the bluenette.

Mal surged through the crowd of people, trying to get Evie’s attention.

“You wanna be cool? Let me show you how!”

“Evie, what are you doing?!”

“Need to break the rules, I could show you how!”

“And once you catch this feeling- hee, hee- yeah, once you catch this feeling, you’re gonna be chillin’, chillin’… Like a filling!” Evie then broke down into hysterical laughter as she very ridiculously started to stumble in what Mal assumed was a dance.

Mal finally pushed through the last row of people, and she quickly approached the bar, dodging Evie’s legs as she tried to get the other girl’s attention.

“What flavor is the filling even?” Evie questioned between laughs.

“E? E?!” Mal called, squeezing Evie’s leg to get her to look down. Evie stopped in her dancing quickly, looking around as she tried to spot whoever was talking to her. She finally looked down to the hand that was touching her leg before following the arm to the person attached.

Her face then lit up in what was quite possibly the dopiest grin that Mal had ever seen.

“Hi, you!!!” Evie cried loudly as she reached down for Mal.

“C’mon, get down. What are you doing up there?” Mal asked, trying to understand what had went through her sister’s head that brought her to this point. Mal took the bluenette’s hands and Evie smiled at her.

“I was being a Broadway actress on the stage!”

“Evie, this is a counter.”

“Potato, potatoh,” Evie mumbled under her breath, allowing Mal to guide her down. As soon as her feet were touching the floor, she leaned hard against the other girl, her eyes meeting Mal’s own as she pressed her nose to Mal’s affectionately.

“You’s my best friend,” Evie informed her, showcasing all of her teeth in a huge grin as she breathed heavily out of her mouth right into Mal’s face. Mal winced, scrunching her nose at the strange smell.

“What happened to you?” Mal asked, surreptitiously trying to blow the stench away from her nose.

“Nothing. I got the spirit of Christmas in my bones,” Evie explained herself, giggling ridiculously as she squished her forehead against Mal’s own and her back straightened.

“We just had Christmas. It’s New Year’s.”

“I’m gettin’ festive early, then. Or is it late?” Mal just shook her head, worried about Evie’s wellbeing at this point. Mal pulled away from the goofy girl in front of her and she looked at the cup there on the counter nearby them.

However, when Evie followed her gaze just barely and she noticed the cup, she nearly flipped out altogether. Evie’s eyes went comically wide as she wrapped her arms around the shorter girl’s form.

“Don’t drink it! It’s poison!” Mal stumbled backward with the sudden force that Evie exerted in launching herself onto her. Evie was holding onto the younger girl ridiculously tightly as she mimicked that usually comforting protective embrace.

“What is that?” Mal asked, pointing at the cup. She stumbled once again, nearly falling this time as Evie flung herself even more fully onto Mal.

“Don’t drink it! It’s a hurling puke fest. It’s,” Evie trailed off, her eyes glazing over a bit as she stared at the empty cup blankly. Mal raised an eyebrow, looking at Evie curiously.

“It’s what?”

“Lemony,” Evie finished in a slurred whisper.

“Lemony?”

“Lemony,” Evie replied to her shortly, pressing her temple against Mal’s cheek as she bent over to meet Mal’s height.

“It tasted like coke, but it was… lemony,” Evie continued, and Mal winced at the thought of it. The drink really did sound absolutely disgusting.

“What was it?” Mal asked her, trying to get an exact answer that could possibly explain what was going on with her sister.

“Lemony.”

“No! What was the drink called?” Mal questioned, and Evie furrowed her brow, concentrating very hard as she tried to focus on what Mal was asking.

“It was iced tea,” Evie informed Mal. Mal shook her head, about to ask further before someone suddenly joined them at the counter.

“Hey, y’all,” Uma greeted, strolling over and grabbing a water as she looked at the two girls beside her. She took one glance at Evie before she laughed knowingly.

“She is so wasted,” Uma spoke, and it suddenly dawned upon Mal that the only explanation for Evie’s actions was that she was completely drunk. The second thing that occurred to her was that Uma had obviously been aware of it before Mal.

“Why would you let her do this?!” Mal demanded, valiantly attempting to keep an intense stare upon Uma as Evie was acting out. Currently, Evie had started poking and prodding at her face gently as the bluenette closely examined her features.

“You are so gorgeous with your cute little nose and adorable dimpley doos. You should really consider being a model… I’m so lucky to have a sister like you,” Evie complimented, practically washing Mal with her alcohol-tinted breath. Mal exhaled, surreptitiously trying to blow away the odd stench that definitely shouldn’t ever be mixed with Evie’s own personal scent.

Evie’s smell was entirely unique to her, and Mal found it so comforting. It was exactly what could calm her down after practically anything at all, possibly even more that Ben’s strong embrace.

“Woah, woah! Hold the accusations. To be fair, I didn’t even see her when she got into whatever she got into. Also, it’s kind of funny, so?” Uma questioned, shrugging as if Mal had totally missed everything and was acting like a complete moron.

“Look at her, Uma! Is this funny to you?!” Mal demanded, and Uma shifted her gaze to the goofy bluenette that was currently tugging on Mal’s hair and trying to braid it while severely failing.

“All models have braided hair. If I can’t braid it, you can’t be a model, and that’s your dream!” Evie cried out, terribly upset as she looked as if she might break down into tears over the trivial matter.

“No, no, it’s okay, E. You’d make a much more beautiful model,” Mal attempted to make her feel better about the situation, and Evie quickly calmed herself as she stumbled a bit against Mal.

Uma bit her gum, raising an eyebrow as she gazed at the monster.

“Yeah… When you put it that way, it’s still funny! I videoed it,” Uma proudly announced to Mal, and the green-eyed girl rolled her eyes exasperatedly.

“Don’t post it anywhere, you hear me?!” Mal nearly shouted, and Evie recoiled, her eyes wide as she gazed at the two of them.

“Are you fighting?” Evie questioned, her voice small and slurred as she suddenly looked like a lost little girl. Mal shook her head, taking Evie’s hand firmly as she tried to keep a physical hold on Evie so she couldn’t escape.

“No, no, everything’s fine,” Mal reassured her gently, and Evie didn’t hesitate as she smiled sweetly and leaned into Mal heavily, pressing a sloppy kiss to the side of Mal’s head.

“That’s a huge relief. We might have to get- hic! Bubble gum to help,” Evie hiccupped, and Mal didn’t pay her any attention in favor of just staring at Uma.

“What did cause this?” Uma questioned.

“Iced tea according to her,” Mal explained shortly, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Oh… I bet it was the very alcoholic Long Island iced tea that Harry brought and mixed to, and I quote, ‘spice up Auradon fuddy-duddies,’” Uma pointed out with a grin, jabbing a thumb behind her at Harry who was swinging from a chandelier. Mal’s eyes went wide as she set her jaw in irritation surrounding the entire situation.

Uma glanced between the two girls for a moment before sighing, holding her hands up in a placating gesture.

“Look, I’m going to get you two some iced tea. Maybe it’ll get her less crazy, and for you, it’s a peace offering. I’m going to try to get some of the real kind,” Uma requested with only a hint of snark as she smiled lopsidedly at the faerie.

Mal finally sighed, unable to stay completely mad at one of her other best friends. Uma nodded, turning back to go find the proper tea.

“Yo, is this the good tea?” Uma asked the person that was behind the counter, and he gestured in a general direction toward the group of cups on the far right. Uma raised an eyebrow, but she walked over to go look at the options available. There were two different kinds of iced tea, and she didn’t have any idea which group was the correct kind. She then shrugged, grabbing two from one group and taking it over to the other two girls.

“Here you go,” Uma offered, and Mal took them both from the pirate captain.

Mal handed Evie her drink and Mal downed her medium glass quickly, not really in the mood to sit and savor the liquid despite the fact that she wasn’t too terribly angry anymore. Mal coughed, her vision automatically going a bit blurry as she squinted hard.

“My gosh, that is horrible!” Mal cried, shaking her head but quickly stopping after it only served to make her dizzier. Mal blinked hard, stumbling over to the iced teas and grabbing another in hopes that it would be better than the last.

“Don’t drink it!” Uma cried out, but Mal had already drank it quickly. Mal gagged and shook her head hard. Uma winced, really hating that Mal had made the awful mistake of drinking that stuff.

“Okay, that happened,” Uma awkwardly spoke.

“Oh, that’s nasty!”

Mal sluggishly looked over at the two Evie’s nearby her and Mal watched Evie as she kept drinking the stuff. Mal furrowed her brow, taking it from Evie to keep her best friend from consuming any more of the disgusting liquid.

“E, don’t drink that,” Mal scolded, and Evie leaned in closely with a whine as she tried to take her glass back.

So, without a second thought, Mal swallowed what was left with a violent cough, a shudder, and finally a victorious smile.

“I was thirsty!” Evie cried helplessly, and Mal shook her head as she cut her eyes in Evie’s direction.

“You’ve wetted the whistler enough,” Mal informed her, hiccupping and suddenly feeling quite giggly indeed.

“Why did you drink Evie’s?!” Uma cried out, and Mal looked to the three Uma’s standing there before her.

“I couldn’t let her drink it,” Mal informed the trio of pirate captains before her.

“You could’ve thrown it away!” Uma desperately exclaimed, and Mal just shook her head, lowering it somewhat as she tried to see things a little more clearly.

“There’s no sink,” Mal pointed out, chuckling as Evie suddenly leaned against her hard and rested her chin on the shorter girl’s head. Mal whined and she pushed her head against Evie’s downward force.

“Ouch, dude! Bony chin!” Mal cried, and Evie just snickered dopily in response.

“Better than a fat one,” Evie giggled, and Uma rolled her eyes at the two of them before grabbing Evie’s arm in one hand and Mal’s in another.

“I’m the Queen, unhand me, you pirate!” Mal cried out, and Uma just stopped and glared at her. Mal kept up the glare for a moment more before Evie poked the purple-haired girl’s nose.

“Stop doin’ that,” Mal grumbled, and Uma kept dragging them along.

“The reason I’m pulling your sorry butts out of here is because you’re the Queen, smarty,” Uma told her, and Mal paused quickly, suddenly looking quite odd indeed. Uma furrowed her brow.

“What’re you doing?” Uma questioned, a little worried about what was going to happen next. After a moment, Mal quickly stood up and stumbled forward, nearly running into a concerned Audrey.

“Woah, woah, what’s going on with her? Is she okay?” Audrey inquired as Uma repositioned her hold on Mal so that she could keep a sturdier grip on her.

“Evie got into the wrong iced tea, and then they both got into the wrong iced tea that no one knew was the wrong iced tea.”

“What’s the difference between wrong iced tea and right iced tea?”

“One of them makes you like this,” Uma lunged to grab an Evie that was swaying and about to be on the ground, “and the other one leaves you with your thirst quenched.”

“I don’t feel so good,” Mal suddenly declared before very grossly emptying her guts there on the floor right in front of Audrey. It only barely missed Audrey’s shoes and the pink princess gaped at the mess for a minute as a strange, high-pitched noise started in her throat. Uma winced, knowing that a screech-fest that was about to occur.

“THESE ARE DESIGNER SHOES! I PAID A FORTUNE FOR THEM!!!!!” Audrey screamed, and Uma chuckled under her breath, nodding as she tried to placate the princess. Uma tried to keep Evie turned away from the mess because she didn’t want her to get the same idea as Mal had.

If the look on Mal’s face was any indicator, Mal seemed like she would be sick again, so Uma took Evie and Mal’s arms and started for the bathroom, Audrey’s voice growing fainter as Uma left her in the other room screeching about her shoes. Uma pushed through the restroom door, and pushed Evie toward the sink so she could hang there while Uma tried to hurry Mal into one of the stalls.

Mal was currently seeming much greener in the face than her usual pale color, and Uma took the shorter girl’s arms in each of her hands as she guided her in the stall carefully.

“C’mon, Greenie, let’s not do a repeat of Audrey. Aim for the Lou, okay?” Uma told her patiently, trying to maneuver Mal over the toilet.

However, it was just not meant to be, and when Mal started to throw up again, it landed partially in the toilet and also all over Uma’s shoe. Uma closed her eyes tightly, really not liking the sudden warmth coating the outside of her shoe.

When she reopened her eyes, she nudged Mal forward a bit more in an attempt to aim her better.

“Do you think you’re through yet?” Uma asked her. Mal just leaned, allowing Uma’s hands to hold her back as she rested. Uma took in a breath before gagging quickly.

“Gosh, I don’t know what you ate before this iced tea, but it is positively revolting!” Uma coughed, attempting desperately to avoid puking with the other girl. She clenched her teeth, pulling herself together as she regained enough of her wits to make sure Evie was okay.

“How’re you doing, Evie?” Uma checked with her other charge. Uma waited a moment, and upon not receiving a response, she furrowed her brow in confusion. Uma leaned out of the stall slightly to see where the bluenette was, and her eyes widened in horror as she gaped at the completely empty space where Evie had just been.

“Oh, crap,” Uma murmured, and Mal looked back at her blearily, still very much drunk but seemingly less sick. Uma took in Mal’s appearance, and ultimately decided that she had to bring Mal with her and there was no way that

“Okay, we’re going to go find Evie.”

“Why? She lost?” Mal slurred, looking around as if Evie would magically materialize nearby them.

“She escaped,” Uma told her, throwing an arm around Mal as she stopped for a paper towel.

“Here, wipe yourself. You’re a mess,” Uma informed her shortly, pushing the door open as Mal sloppily obeyed Uma’s instructions. The two made it through the doorway, and Uma looked around the party scene desperately, trying to spot a blue head of hair.

“I used to hate you,” Mal suddenly announced, and Uma raised an eyebrow, letting Mal talk as she was halfway interested in what the faerie had to say and halfway knowledgeable of the fact that she couldn’t shut her up anyway.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, but you’re pretty great when you get past all this,” Mal almost theatrically gestured at the pirate. Uma’s gaze softened, deciding to ultimately take the statement as the well-meant comment that it likely was.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” Uma complimented carefully, looking for Evie all around.

Uma raised up on her tiptoes and happened to see Evie in a corner nearby another rather unexpected character- Doug.

She knew that Evie and Doug had broken up, so naturally things were going to be awkward, but she didn’t really know the true details of the ordeal. She figured that he was responsible enough to handle the two drunks for at least a moment while Uma went and found Ben.

The pirate captain pushed through the crowd over in the direction of Doug and Evie, and she moved her head so that her mouth was near Mal’s ear.

“You see Evie over there?” Mal’s gaze shifted about slowly until it settled on Evie carefully. “Good, now go hang with her and you two stay there until I get back, okay? I’ll only be a second,” Uma assured her, and watched for just long enough to ensure that Mal would make it before leaving the two altogether.

Uma shook her head at the two, looking down at her shoe disdainfully as she looked for Ben.

It fortunately did not take her long to find him- after all, he was a tall boy- and she pushed through the crowd over to him.

He was currently talking the ears off of some group of pastel colored Auradon kids with big smiles and silly hairstyles. In other words, he was currently conversing with the exact kind that Uma wouldn’t poke with a ten-and-a-half-foot pole.

“Ben, we got a situation,” Uma announced, grabbing Ben’s arm as she dragged him away from the group that he was conversing with. His face immediately went from an easygoing smile to a much more serious expression as his mind went into business mode.

“What is it?” Ben questioned, but Uma avoided any sort of response for a few moments. She ensured that they were somewhat out of earshot before leaning in so that only Ben could hear her next words.

“Evie and Mal got into the wrong iced tea.” Ben just furrowed his brow in response as he considered her statement and tried to comprehend its meaning.

“What’s the difference between the wrong iced tea and the right iced tea?” Ben questioned innocently, and Uma groaned loudly, face-palming.

“What is it with you Auradon kids? Audrey asked me the same dang thing!” Uma expressed her frustration before deciding to explain it once again to yet another goody-two-shoes of Auradon.

However, before she could explain anything, the crowd started to part and gather around one particular scene as an angry shout could be heard.

“Come back here, you chicken turd!”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Mal stumbled over to Evie, her eyes only on the bluenette. After all, that was what Uma had asked her to do: go to Evie and stay.

“You know, you really broke my heart when you upped and dumped me,” Evie announced, and Doug just looked at her, rather uncomfortable with the fact that his ex with three very threatening family members was talking to him of all people while drunk of all things.

Mal’s eyes narrowed as she stopped to see who Evie was talking to.

“I just sat there asking myself: why wasn’t I good enough? Was I not pretty enough? Was I not,” she paused only to belch loudly, “smart enough for ya?!”

“No, I just-”

“But don’t worry. Ma sister helped me through all o’ that,” Evie informed him with a dopey grin. “She’s the best. She’s the New Year Resolution!”

Mal’s eyes widened in recognition as her unfocused eyes finally settled on Doug. Her eyes lit up in a fury that was unrivalled as she came barreling forward to Evie.

“He buggin’ you?” Mal demanded, slurring as she came near Evie. Evie smiled widely as she looked at Mal, but she then got a confused expression on her face as her gaze shifted between the two of them curiously.

“I dunno. Is you buggin’ me?” Evie asked Doug, and he quickly put his hands up in a placating gesture as he gaped at Mal in horrification, unable to say anything sensible.

“Imma take that as a yes,” Mal snarled, not giving him a chance to speak as she pushed her sleeves up and got into a fighting stance.

“C’mon, I always let girly girls hit first!” Mal announced, and Doug’s eyes narrowed as he took offense.

“Wait just a minute!”

“Too late!” Doug’s eyes went wide as Mal took a swing. He quickly stumbled backwards in an attempt to avoid the girl’s right hook that he knew was a good one.

“Come back here, you chicken turd!” Mal roared, furious at the fact that he had managed to evade her. Evie just watched the entire situation with wide eyes and a few giggles in between.

“I told you not to come near her again! Persuasion and reason’s comin’ your way!” Mal yelled swinging a couple more times as Doug yelped, dodging her hits.

��Woah, woah! I thought I told you to stay, not to sock somebody!” Uma told her, smacking Mal’s arm down as she grabbed her wrist firmly and kept her from sending any more punches.

“See, Ben, this is what happens when you get the wrong iced tea,” Uma explained to the boy that had just managed to catch up to her.

Ben strode over to Doug, helping the boy dust himself off.

“You okay?” Ben asked kindly, and Doug just nodded nervously as he stared at Mal fearfully. Her eyes glowed green as she offered him a growl. He almost cried out in his haste to escape from the area. Doug escaped quickly as everyone moved to make him a path.

Ben looked around and realized just how many people were watching at this moment. He offered a large grin as he waved at everyone, clearing his throat.

“Hello, everyone. Don’t worry, there’s nothing to see here. The Queen was just, uh,” he paused for a moment, trying to decide the best way to describe it, “settling a few personal issues,” he finally settled upon with a light laugh.

“Anyways, continue on in your partying. We will be dropping the Auradon crest in about,” Ben checked his watch carefully, “fifty minutes! Wow, only a little while until a new year!”

“But, like I said, carry on!” Ben announced to them all, raising a hand to signal the DJ to continue playing the music. Everyone stared for a moment, but they eventually decided that they would rather dance the night away than focus on the Queen.

“We’ve got to get them out of here.”

“Hi, Benny-Boo,” Evie greeted, nearly falling on her face as Ben dove to catch her. He wrapped an arm around her firmly as he stared at his wife somewhat worriedly. However, he couldn’t pay much attention to Mal because Evie suddenly started to grab his cheeks between her fingers.

“Hiya, Benny-Boo,” Evie repeated, and Ben offered her a slight smile.

“Hi, Evie,” he finally answered her, and she smiled so sweetly with such an odd look in her eyes that Ben definitely knew something was not right with her. He cleared his throat, widening his eyes at Uma as he extended his arm to take Mal from Uma.

“Here, I’ll take her.”

“You sure you can handle her all the way out to the car?” Uma asked him, still trying to keep Mal from swinging at the air. When a runaway fist got just a little too close for comfort, Uma grasped it firmly in her own hand and locked her eyes with Mal’s.

“Cool it,” Uma instructed firmly, and Mal just stuck her tongue out at her in a manner not dissimilar to a petty, immature child. Ben offered one last glance at Evie, deciding that the bluenette was a little too much for him, before nodding eagerly.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure,” Ben agreed. After staring at him for a moment, Uma just shrugged as she traded her beast for Ben’s beauty.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Uma offered a final word of warning to him as a very clumsy Evie nearly ran her over.

Ben took Mal carefully, wrapping an arm around her waist firmly in an attempt to keep her still. She furrowed her brow, looking up at him before her eyes lit up in something akin to recognition. Mal laughed under her breath, looking up at him with her tongue sticking out slightly.

“Who do you think you are?” Mal challenged playfully. Ben just shrugged, not really knowing how to answer her.

“A concerned citizen.”

“A concerned citizen, my a-”

“Language!” Evie called out suddenly, and Mal immediately grew sullen as she quieted. Ben took it as a good sign that Evie had enough wits about her to keep Mal in line.

Uma just rolled her eyes in response but didn’t say anything as she worked with Ben to get them out the door and into the parking lot. It fortunately didn’t take them long because Mal mostly stayed quiet until they got outside, and Evie didn’t have any major trip-ups.

However, as soon as Evie got out the door, she tripped and fell right into Ben. Ben braced himself firmly, keeping a strong arm around Mal and managing to sturdy Evie against him.

Evie stared into his eyes for a moment, a tiny little smile coming onto her face as she giggled.

“Y’know, I shoulda snagged you up,” Evie announced, and Ben’s eyes went ridiculously wide as he gaped at the bluenette, disbelieving that she would ever say anything like that. Mal’s eyes sluggishly snapped over to Evie, and she gasped.

“Evie!”

“Sorry not sorry!” Evie cried in response, and Uma clapped Ben on the shoulder.

“It’s okay. She’s drunk out of her mind. She doesn’t mean a word of it,” Uma reassured him, pulling Evie against her so that the girl was safely between Ben and Uma. Ben relaxed immediately, starting to understand the mannerisms of the drunk in action.

“Not sorry ‘cuz I gave up all that princessy business and dreams with Benny for ma bestie, ma sis, ma only Mally-Boo,” Evie proudly proclaimed, and Mal’s face lit up in a huge grin conveying her touched feelings as she reached her arm out toward Evie.

“Evie!”

“Mal!”

“Awkward,” Ben murmured underneath his breath, and Uma just chuckled at his expense as she held firmly to the bluenette.

They approached the vehicle, and Uma opened one of the rear doors of her Hummer so Ben and Uma could stuff them in her car.

“Here, hang on a sec,” Uma told him before stepping up into the back of the vehicle and reaching over the backseat to get a blanket to cover the seat and the majority of the area that Evie and Mal would be taking up.

Ben eyed her questioningly and Uma just waved a hand at him flippantly.

“Don’t ask why the blanket’s here. Gil and Harry are total mess-makers, and I can’t have them screwing up my interior in the land-yacht,” Uma fondly addressed the car, patting the driver’s seat carefully before moving over to the edge of the backseat near the door so she could help the two misfortunates inside.

“Okay, now hand me the first contestant,” Uma instructed as she extended her arm.

Just as Evie was about to get into the vehicle, her eyes went wide with recognition as she started to back up as hard and fast as she could possibly manage. Mal just stared at the other girl blankly.

“I can’t go back to jail!” Evie cried loudly, trying to run as Ben locked his arm around her midsection.

“What she said! You’ll never take me alive!” Mal exclaimed, finally taking action after realizing what was going on according to Evie. Mal started to move so suddenly that Ben lost his grip on her as she took off.

“Run, Mal!” Evie cheered, laughing like a madwoman. Uma hopped out of the Hummer quickly, racing after the faerie.

Of course, it wasn’t too hard to catch up to her considering the fact that Mal was significantly slowed as a result of her current condition. She grabbed Mal with both arms, dragging her backwards as she kicked and fought the entire way.

“You’re not going to jail! You’re going home!” Uma shouted, trying to be heard over Mal’s struggling. Mal fought a little less, but Uma attributed it to exhaustion rather than her actually listening to the pirate captain’s words.

Uma finally got her back to the car and she looked at Ben expectantly.

“Throw yours in first. It’s going to take both of us to put this wildcat in a box,” Uma told him, and he picked Evie up effortlessly, putting her in the backseat carefully. She started to fight him, but Ben positioned himself so that his back was to her and he was successfully blocking her way out.

He then scooped up Mal, Uma hanging onto her knees and legs firmly as he put her inside on top of Evie so that they were in a big backseat heap.

“Hi, Mal,” Evie greeted with a laugh as Mal carefully attempted to right herself so that she was sitting next to Evie. However, after a moment, she just gave up, resting her chin on the bony part of Evie’s hip as she looked at the bluenette that was currently lying on her side.

“Hiya, Genevieve,” Mal cackled, and Evie shot her a disdainful glance as she tried to look sophisticated. Mal arose from her laying down position as Uma got in the driver’s seat and Ben situated himself in the passenger seat.

Uma cranked up the car and started for the castle.

Ben looked in the side mirror nearest to him as he watched the building grow tinier as they grew farther away.

“Are you sure you shouldn’t have gotten Harry and Gil?” Ben asked her, and she just shrugged, shaking her head.

“Nah, I’ll come back for them later. Or they’ll drag their sorry butts up to the castle. Or they’ll wander off in the woods. Either way, they’ll be fine,” Uma waved away his concerns. Ben raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

However, he did quickly jump when he felt something weird and wet touch his ear. He spun around to see who had done it, and he immediately spotted his culprit in the backseat laughing her head off, her blue-headed accomplice giggling with her.

“What did you do?”

“I licked your ear. Duh!” Mal informed him before falling against her seat, throwing her head back in pure enjoyment.

Ben rolled his eyes at her but gazed at Evie with concern. He couldn’t help but notice that Evie looked a little strange as she sat there beside Mal, so he drummed up his courage and decided to ask her about it.

“Hey, Evie? Are you okay?” Ben questioned, and Evie just stared at him, looking a little spacey as she giggled under her breath. Mal had just began to quit laughing and she looked at Evie, her head cocked to the side as she watched her partner in drunkenness.

“I don’t feel so good,” Evie informed him as she teeter-tottered back and forth from her place sitting behind the driver’s seat. Mal pointed at her with a laugh.

“She’s goin’ down! Timber!” Mal cried just before Evie passed out, falling down in Mal’s lap.

Ben shook his head, getting his answer to his previous question.

Uma leaned her arm against the door and propped her head up with a hand as she steered with the other. And all was quiet.

That is, until Mal decided it was a good idea to sing.

It was lilting and pretty, but it was still very slurred and very much drunken as she picked up strands of Evie’s hair and dropped them on the older girl’s face.

Ben awkwardly looked over at Uma, not really knowing what to say now that he had already addressed the situation surrounding Harry and Gil. He finally decided to just look out the window and hope that either Uma started speaking or they got home quickly.

When Mal eventually reached the second round of her song’s chorus, Uma hummed along with her quietly, obviously knowing the tune.

“What’s that song?” Ben asked as he jumped at the opportunity, glad to finally have some fresh material to talk about with the pirate captain.

“Huh? Oh, that’s just a silly song that the Isle kids used to sing,” Uma informed him simply. Ben nodded, resolving to pay a little more attention to the lyrics.

Before long, they had reached home, and Uma pulled up right at the front stairway of the castle so that it wouldn’t be quite so long of a walk.

Mal was still carrying on in the back when they had stopped, and Evie was very much passed out still. Uma looked at Ben questioningly, checking to make sure he was prepared to get the two crazies in the castle.

Ben simply shrugged in response, figuring that it was now or never.

They approached opposing sides of the back part of the Hummer and Uma helped Mal out as Ben took Evie in his arms, throwing her over his shoulder carefully. Mal immediately stumbled to the side, and Uma wrapped an arm around her middle to steady her.

The two sober members of their posse met at the front of the vehicle as they started up the stairs. A few times, Mal nearly fell down them, so Uma had to be very watchful to ensure that the girl did not end up cracking her head open.

When they reached the top of the stairs, Mal immediately bent over, and before Uma could even begin to evade it, Mal coated both of Uma’s shoes in a fresh layer of puke. Uma winced, swallowing hard in an attempt to keep her own stomach under control.

However, all thoughts relating to that were completely forsaken when she happened to hear Ben chuckling under his breath. Uma shot him a dirty look as Evie suddenly raised her head up, looking around blearily. Her eyes settled on Mal’s latest mess and she suddenly decided to follow suit, her face turning green quickly.

Ben closed his eyes, frowning as he felt the sudden warmth on his back. Uma wasted no time in cackling at his expense, enjoying the situation thoroughly as justice was served to the young King for his laughter at her.

“C’mon, let’s get these two inside,” Uma beckoned, still laughing heartily.

When the four finally reached Ben’s room upstairs, Uma and Ben were exhausted, and Evie had fallen into a peaceful sleep draped over Ben’s shoulder. Mal herself looked quite exhausted as she barely remained upright beside Uma.

Ben carefully laid Evie on the bed, and Uma shoved Mal firmly, letting her fall onto the bed beside Evie. The two naturally gravitated together, and it was rather humorous to see their sisterhood prevalent even in their unconsciousness.

Ben and Uma stood next to each other at the foot of the bed, reveling in the mess that the two girls were and the mess that they were as well.

Suddenly, the clock behind them began to make noise, and the two looked at its face, noticing that it was midnight. It was officially a new year.

Ben looked at Uma. Uma looked at Ben.

“If you try to kiss me, I’m going to slap the Auradon off of you,” Uma informed him quickly, and he just laughed wholeheartedly. She offered a grin in response, her attempt at lightening the tension successful.

“Definitely not thinking of that, I assure you. It’s just… Welcome to your first New Year’s in Auradon, Uma,” Ben expressed, smiling at her kindly. Uma just shook her head at him, a fond smile on her face as she looked at the two drunken girls passed out on the bed together.

“Well, if this is a sign of how the rest of this new year in Auradon is going to go, I guess I’ll be packing up for the Isle tomorrow,” Uma joked, and Ben chuckled.

“Let’s get cleaned up, Beast Boy,” Uma told him, patting his clean shoulder carefully as they headed out of the room quietly, shutting the door behind them soundlessly.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Evie opened her eyes and the first thing that she realized was that she had a headache that in the history of headaches stood unrivalled to any she had ever felt before. She groaned loudly, rolling over and practically onto something else that was warm and breathing.

The form underneath her grunted and pushed at her until it emerged so it was lying beside her.

Evie didn’t have to open her eyes to know that it was Mal laying there beside her. After all, she knew the Mal’s little sounds better than anyone. It was an essential part of survival when they were on the Isle.

However, she also didn’t have to open her eyes to smell the horrible stench of vomit. Obviously, Mal was starting to get the smell, too, if her appalled sniffs were anything to go by.

“E, what is that stink?” Mal asked, her voice sounding rough and almost hoarse as she spoke. Evie scrunched up her nose, opening one eye carefully to look over at the purple-haired girl. She immediately shut it as the bright light of day practically burned her eyes.

After a few more moments, she opened her eye again, squinting as she adjusted. Once again, her eyes were burned, but it was from the sight that she was greeted with. Right next to her was her best friend. And currently, her best friend’s hair was an absolute mess and it was matted in all sorts of weird positions and it was positively disgusting if it had in it what Evie was sure was in it.

“M, you look horrible,” Evie told her, and Mal opened her eye, going through the same process as Evie had before opening it fully.

“Good grief, you should see yourself.”

“What happened last night, Mal?” Evie questioned. “All I remember is sending you over to Ben and getting something to drink.”

“Well, you got drunk because you got into the alcoholic Long Island iced tea that Harry brought. As for me, I don’t have a clue,” Mal caught her up on her remembrance of the events of last night.

They were quiet for a moment before bits and pieces started to come back to Evie.

“Wait a minute… Did I get up on the bar and dance?” Evie asked the purple-haired girl.

“Yeah, you did. It would’ve been really funny if it weren’t so embarrassing,” Mal chuckled, but quickly moaned, holding her head in a hand. They were silent for a few more beats before Evie shot up, looking at Mal through squinted eyes.

“Did you almost beat up Doug?!” Mal furrowed her brow, trying to remember. However, when an enormous grin appeared on her face, Evie immediately knew her answer.

“Yes, I certainly did,” Mal proudly announced.

Evie paused for a moment, allowing herself time to really look around the room. It was then that she spotted two sets of clean clothes for her and her best friend resting on the dresser a little ways from the foot of the bed. She smiled slightly as she noticed two cups of water and some painkillers next to them.

However, this happy feeling didn’t last long and was quickly replaced by disgust and embarrassment as a particular memory came back to mind.

“Did I really puke all over Ben’s back?” Evie asked, really hoping that was just a fabricated memory. Mal raised an eyebrow, barely opening an eye as she looked at her mess of a best friend.

“Definitely.”

Evie hid her face in her hands, purely embarrassed as she sat there in the bed next to Mal. After a few minutes of nursing her severe sense of mortification, it dawned upon the bluenette that they had awoken to a new year.

“Hey, M, it’s a new year,” Evie told Mal, lying back down beside her sister as she considered this bit of information. Mal thought about this for a moment before nodding slowly.

“I guess it is.”

Evie smiled at her, reaching out and taking Mal’s hand in her own firmly as she looked over at the faerie. She eyed her softly and lovingly as she reveled in the greatness of sharing another wonderful year with the people that she loved most.

“Any resolutions?” Evie questioned finally. Mal furrowed her brow, not saying anything for several moments. She finally returned her gaze to Evie with a wry smile.

“Just one. Let’s never do this again.”

“Sure thing, sister.”

14 notes · View notes

4llmywr1tings · 5 years ago

Text

Can it Green Eyes

Characters/Pairing: Jensen X Reader, SPN Cast Words: 2,096 Warnings: Jensen is a little down about himself, language i think A/N: you are Jared’s brother in law, Gen’s little sister

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“I think it would be a great run in the right direction for her, but of course you know I have to run things by her first. Yeah, of course one of us will call her.” You look up from your laptop from what you were doing. It was the time of day, that you were doing your daily social media perusing, scaring fans with your responses. You wait for your manager to stop what she was doing to tell you what was going on.

“I don’t think she’d mind working with her brother–in –law, or her husband. No. I don’t think so.” You hated filling in her conversations. Usually she would put her phone on speaker when it was regarding your job, but today she had forgotten. “Yes, I’ll have her make a decision and we’ll call by tonight, tomorrow at nine, the latest? Good, talk to you later Jeremy.”

“What was that?” you asked, finally looking back to your Twitter profile. Like you had predicted, a fan had freaked out when you had “followed” her. She had just replied with a long “thank you.”

“Jeremy Carver. He’s still curious to see if you’re open to taking that part. You’d become a regular. I know you’re still browsing, but.”

“I’ve been wanting to…”

“Stick close to Jensen?” You nod, knowing fully that was what she’d say.

“Yeah. This distance with him in Vancouver and me in LA, it’s starting to get harder. A lot harder. Especially since it’s just new in this marriage.”

“Well, maybe this’ll be an easier decision than we thought?”

“Yeah. I’ll go give Jeremy a call. Let’s get me to Vancouver as soon as possible. I want to go. ASAP.”

“Okay,” Brittany replies quickly. “And then you need to start getting ready for the awards show tonight. You promised you’d make the appearance for the show.”

You let out a sigh and nod, remembering you would help your costar Dwayne Johnson present the first look at your movie together. This movie was a big deal for you, and any good publicity, was well. Good publicity.

You had decided to surprise Jensen, he knew you would probably take the part – you talked about everything together, and he was a deciding factor.

You only wanted to do it, if he was comfortable too. When he didn’t object to the possibility of you working closer to him, your decision was final. If you ever got a job on Supernatural, you’d do it, because being in Vancouver meant being with him.

And that’s what you needed in the beginning of your marriage.

You arrived in Vancouver Sunday morning. The flight was rather quiet, until Ginnifer Goodwin and Josh Dallas joined you in first class for the remainder of your flight. By the time you would get in, Jensen and Jared would be at their panel for VanCon, so you thought you’d either crash or just listen in.

Jensen and Jared were their usual selves, goofing off, making fun of each other.

“Yes, you.” Jensen looked towards one side of the stage. He waves goofily with Jared and waits for her. “Hello.”

“Hello.” She giggles nervously. “Oh man, I’m so nervous.”

“Don’t be. Jared does this to all the ladies.” You scoff and shake your head, and even give an eye roll. If the crowd could see you, they would laugh at you.

The fan laughs at them, and continues. “My question is actually for Jensen.”

Jensen gives Jared a smug look of satisfaction and then looks back to the fan. “Continue my lady.”

“My question is, in having a spouse in the business as well, is it harder to work in separate states, or shows, or is it easier to do it together? Especially so soon in the marriage?”

“Well.” Jensen replies, laughing with Jared. “We were just talking about that. It’s hard to be apart. That’s for sure. I was just telling Jared how much I missed her, and having her with me. Vancouver to LA is such a long distance.”

“It’s good and it’s bad. We love her movies, I was a big fan of her before I met Gen, and she loves doing what she does, but we like having her close.” Jared points out. “We love having family close.”

“So she’s either too far away in LA, or too far a way in Austin.” Jensen laughs. “Which sucks.”

“You should get Gen to come here!” the fan responds, and with that the group agrees.

“We should. Hey. Thanks! Good idea.” Jensen waves to the fan and they turn to the other side.

“Um, my question is for the both of you. What do you think of this new Resident Evil movie coming out? I mean Dwayne Johnson is in it!”

Jared laughs and nods his head. “I’ve heard he’s pretty cool.”

“Eh.” Jensen shrugs his shoulders. “I like the (Y/H/C)’d girl that is going to be in it better. I mean I’m pretty star struck.”

“Dude, you’ve got it bad Jensen.” The fan chides him, and they all laugh with the group.

“Oh come on. It’s (Y/N) friggin’ Cortesi. How would you feel?” Jensen asks looking to the fan. In the dark, they can see the fan shrug her shoulders, then nod in agreement. “See. I told you.”

“I like her too.” The fan replies.

“Well, my smart little sister in law liked it, so she put a ring on it.” They laugh as Jensen waves his hand and makes a face.

That was your cue to go out and crash their panel. You sneak out behind them, motioning to the fans who saw you to be quiet.

“But if we’re being honest here, I have to like her, she’s my sister in law.”

“That is a very good answer Padalecki.” You answer, walking out. They start to cheer as you lean against Jensen and immediately he takes your hand over his shoulder.

“Hey, it’s like she knows we’re talking about her.” Jensen replies, kissing your hand.

“All women are like that. They have like a sixth sense.” Jared giggles. “Especially my sister in law, even more so when she’s around Gen.”

You give him a look, but then nod in agreement. “We are really bad together.” You look around to the group. ��So, are y’all gonna come see the next Resident Evil movie?”

Jensen laughs and shakes his head. “What? Shameless plugging. I mean who wants to see me kick some Dwayne Johnson ass. Butt. Assbutt?”

Both of them slowly raise their hands, and the crowd joins in on the question. “See, shameless plugging. I am proud of the shameless plugging.”

“Do you want to stay around and shamelessly plug some more?” Jared asks.

“Nah.” You smile. “They paid to come see your handsome faces. I just wanted to crash your panel, say hello, say go watch Resident Evil: Humanity’s Last Stand, guard your carnal treasures, and of course as always. Watch Supernatural.”

There was nothing better to do, so you waited around with all your friends. Once their panel was done, you had to wait for their autograph signings and photo ops to be finished. Even though it was almost seven before dinner was over and you were home, you were done for the day.

“Mmm. Number 47.” You smile, seeing the familiar black numbers over your shared apartment door.

“Welcome home. I’m glad I’ll be sharing a bed this time.” He smiles wickedly at you, and through your exhaustion you think you either scoff or roll your eyes.

“I’m too tired to react Jensen. Put me to bed?” you ask, almost whining like a small, needy child.

“Anything for my beautiful girl. Glad you’re with me.”

You let the door close behind you and wrap your arms around Jensen, letting him pull you tight to his body.

“I am so glad you are with me. Even happier that your first day of work is tomorrow. With me.”

“Me too.” You elongate your words, yawning a little. He supports your bodyweight as you slowly walk to your master bedroom. You quickly strip of your clothes and you’re the first to make it to your bed. “Remember when we met?”

“God, don’t I ever? You were the prettiest lady there, and you were at a wedding.”

“Glad you didn’t tell my sister that. Cuz she would’ve been mad.” You yawned. The bed dips under Jensen’s weight and he quickly joins you, clad only in black boxer briefs.

He laughs and kisses your forehead. “Glad I didn’t. I’m also so glad that they decided to introduce us.”

“Me to green eyes. Me too.” You put your head on his chest and quickly drift to a happy, peaceful sleep.

“I can’t believe it. Today’s the day Gen! You’re getting married!” you squeal happily. It was a bit of a whirlwind adventure, but your big sister (by less than a year) was getting married.

And you happened to actually like your future brother in law.

“I can’t either. Thanks for taking time out of your schedule.”

All you can do is give her a look. “Of course Genevieve. I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Even if it were Oscar weekend. This is your big day, and I want to be by your side.”

She gives you the smile you always loved. She was your best friend, and being so close together, you followed in your big sister’s footsteps. When she started to act, you did too. When she moved somewhere, you did as well.

You both found your successes and failures. Some movies or TV shows were hit and miss for you, while her first and major success was finding Supernatural, and then finding Jared.

“Well, guess what? You’re going to meet Jared’s coworker. Jensen Ackles. He’s of course in the party.”

“You, setting me up again Genevieve?” you ask furrowing your brow. She zips up your dress and you look to her. “Come on Gen. When it happens, it happens.”

“Just meet him. It’s my wedding day. Do what I say.” She laughs, point to her. You nod in agreement, but it doesn’t help much. Her mind was set.

Now that you had gotten ready, all that needed to happen, was to get down the aisle. Of course your older sister Sarah would be the maid of honor, and you were next.

“So, is this the little sister in law to be, that Jared is trying to set me up with?” a guy asks. You look up to see a pair of beautiful, green eyes staring back at you. Everyone was lining up to walk down the aisle.

“Maybe, and who might you be, green eyes?” You fold your arms and give him a smirk. You knew who he was, and you were sure what his intentions would be.

“I’m Jared’s costar. Jensen.”

You let out an “ah” but have to stop as the procession is starting. “Well, after this is all said and done, tell me some embarrassing stories I can have for ammo against my brother in law to be?”

He laughs, and you feel yourself going weak at the knees. A laugh that you would love for the rest of your days.

A few hours later and a ‘we give you both our blessing,’ you and Jensen had found a quick exit after the bouquet had been thrown.

“I still can’t believe you said yes to me.” Jensen’s voice still does the same things to you, and every time you heard it, you still went weak at the knees.

“Best yes I have ever given.” You answer. You were getting ready for the wrap party, which coincidentally happened to be the airing of your first episode. You look to him, and he gave you a weak, yet brave smile. He was probably having a moment of insecurity, like you had many times. “And I’d say yes. Over and over and over again.”

“Some days, I just, I don’t understand why you picked me. You have everything going your way, and you could have any hot male celebrity. Yet you chose me.”

“I got my hot male celebrity babe. You are it for me. You are my person. You get me 100%. You love me for me, 100%. You support me 100%. I don’t know what I’d do without that. You are my person. Forever. K?”

“I. I just.”

“Shut it green eyes. You are my person, end of story. You aren’t getting rid of me, and I’m not getting rid of you. For a long time. Okay?”

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ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff · 6 years ago

Text

Complementary (Collins x OC) Chapter 36: Bed

Summary: A doctor’s appointment later and it’s confirmed: the Collins are expecting a new member of the family. Genevieve is excited but her hormones have been telling her otherwise.

AN: Thank you all for being patient over this series. This chapter and the rest of them are gonna be hella long. Mostly because I don’t want to say goodbye to this series but I wanna give the details Genevieve and Jack deserve. This is one of the interactive fics so if you wanna explore more of the pregnancy stuff, inbox me!

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Jack awoke to a clatter and a scuffling from downstairs. His arm patted the space beside him and discovered it was empty. While his bed was warmly enticing, his curiosity and desire to see his wife safe and sound overruled and he grappled with the sheets to free himself. Feet stepping into slippers, arms tugging on a robe and knotting it in place, Jack trudged out of the room, down the steps, to investigate the noises.

From the entrance of the kitchen, he spied Genevieve by the fridge. She too was wearing her robe over her pyjamas. One arm was cradling a bowl and the other was a blur as she stuffed something into her mouth with gusto. With a sigh, Jack stepped into the kitchen.

“Love, why are you up?”

Genevieve looked up without alarm at her husband and said, “I got hungry.” Then she licked the back of the spoon, “I forgot how much I loved this pudding.”

“Ginny, it’s half three,” Jack rubbed one eye with a sleeve-covered hand.

Shrugging, she spoke around the spoon, “You can go back to bed. I’m not stopping you.”

Sighing again, Jack stepped forwards, his slippers slapping against the tiles, “Come on, you can eat your trifle in the morning.”

“It is the morning though.” Genevieve ate another spoonful as he touched the arm that coddled the bowl of trifle. Seeing Jack’s exhausted expression, she put reluctantly back her food in the fridge. A muttered thanks and a kiss on her temple guided her back upstairs to bed where she suddenly felt the full effect of being awake at three in the AM.

“Baby’s a hungry lil’ bad word, giving me cravings at this time of night,” She rubbed her hand over the slight bump as she scolded it. Adoringly, Jack placed his hand atop hers and squeezed before he helped her up the stairs.

“She’s gonna be a big girl,” He said with pride.

Genevieve frowned with confusion, “She?”

“Yeah, I bet Farrier that it’s gonna be a girl.”

“… What did you bet?”

Opening the bedroom door, Jack went a little red as he felt the weight of his words, “We kinda have to name our baby after him if it’s a boy.”

“Jack!”

“It’s not the end of the world! Fifty-fifty chance!”

It took a while for Genevieve to get comfortable in the bed again, wriggling under the covers and flipping the pillow to cool her neck. Then she made her commentary on her husband’s life choices, “I guess Edward isn’t the worst name ever.”

Jack shifted onto his side, facing her as her eyes drooped shut. He leant in and kissed her softly before whispering, “Happy one year.”

A little giddy on sleep deprivation, Genevieve joyfully remembered their reunion in her old flat, the scrubbed clean countertop he lifted her onto, the whisk she’d forgotten to pick up off the floor until the morning after, the bed so they had wrapped themselves in each other’s arms to fit onto it.

She teased in the tone of a Southern Belle, “Oh Jack, kiss me like you did when we were reunited!”

“In a few hours, maybe,” He raised his brows without opening his eyes. Not content with this, Genevieve kissed him again. Luckily Jack was all for going back on his word. His hand lazily pushed upward to touch her cheek then sliding onto her tummy to graze the skin with his knuckles. Humming, Genevieve tried not to flinch away from his ticklish touch until she was satisfied with her bedtime kiss, pushing Jack onto his back so she could lean over him. They shared a giggle, though they did not break the kiss, and they wouldn’t fall asleep for another ten minutes, ending with a cuddle built around Genevieve’s comfort.

Their anniversary blended with falling leaves and bad weather. Not that the couple minded. Genevieve slept through half of it while Jack went to work. When he returned to an indoor picnic by the fire, pillows and warmth surrounding them, they spent their evening loving on each other with kisses, sandwiches, and an early night.

The late night cravings only increased but it meant that Genevieve could make a dent in decorating the nursery. However Christmas arrived sooner than anticipated and before they knew it, Genevieve and Jack were staying over Christmas Eve at the Hastings’ farm, sleeping in Genevieve’s old room which Jack was enthralled to see. Like a child in a sweet shop, he spun around in the box room and fell onto the bed. Then he leapt up again and explored the chest of toys, the boxes under the bed, the wardrobe. The latter was where he found the best part of the visit: Genevieve’s old clothes.

“Look at your little dresses!” He squeaked, holding up one she wore as a six year old, “And these dungarees! Our baby could borrow them!” Genevieve watched from her seat on the bed, endeared by this little spectacle. Especially when he found her baby shoes, paired off in a dusty box.

Starting to look a little more convex, Genevieve found herself wanting to sit or sleep more than usual. Her leg was not straining as much as it had done but it still caused a tad more than her average baseline of pain. Her cane was annoyingly becoming a necessity for her movement. At least it gave her an excuse at least to get out of being fawned over by her sister.

“You’re positively glowing!” Lilly had said upon greeting Genevieve, to which she had responded: “no, that’s just sweat and acne”.

Bluntness aside, Genevieve spent a majority of her time on the sofa with James on the floor in front of her, showing off all his presents to her. Aside from when they were alone, Jack was rather quiet during their stay. His voice’s volume dropped drastically as soon as they stepped out of the bedroom, even more so when he played with James. Very carefully did he phrase his words, as if he were being stalked by Genevieve’s parents for the duration of his visit. The only time he really made an appearance was when the presents were being unwrapped. A majority of them were baby clothes; he elatedly played with the tiny socks and measured the clothes over the bump while James giggled hysterically in the background.

“Baby’s got a bit more growing to go. Keep ‘em cooking, love.”

“At least there’s a baby in here. What’s your excuse?”

“Apple pie.”

They left just as James was heard asking Lilly where the baby came from. A hasty escape to the crazy Collins’ house was something Genevieve was grateful for. The only thing she wasn’t prepared for was Cora in the throngs of her Christmas organising frenzy. Silence took over the car but she was fine with this break as was Jack. It gave him ample opportunity to hold his wife’s hand without a watchful parent in the corner. As if a hand holding would do anything more than what they had already done. She was already pregnant for Christ’s sake.

Switching off the engine, Jack looked at her. His eyes strayed back to the bump then her lower lip, parted from the top as she bit the inside of her mouth, a nervous habit. He leant over, kissed her cheek, drew away with a red face after admitting his guilty pleasure, “You look so adorable when you worry, really are glowing.”

Genevieve’s eyes squinted at him, but her smile betrayed her as she told him, “Shut up.”

Her slow exit from the car, and Jack’s subsequent assistance in helping her out, gave the opportunity to kiss him in return. It only lasted a moment for Cora flung open the front door and sprang upon the couple with a bear hug. How she managed to wrap her arms around them both, neither knew, but the hug was pleasant enough before being swept into the house for another dinner, after Jack ferried in presents of course.

Jack’s father was enamoured with the presents Genevieve had already received. His thick hands carefully pawed over the outfits with the twinkle of a grandfather-to-be in his eye. He only stopped staring at it when he went to look over the family photo album, his eyes misty with mirth. Genevieve happily revisited the album, in tears well before it was revealed that a photo of herself, Jack, Ethel, Toby, and Karen playing cricket that October gone was pasted on the latest page. It took a minute for her to calm herself enough to say “thank you” coherently and she accepted her own bowl of pudding graciously – and with more tears. It was an understatement to say the still implemented rationing had been tough on them all so to receive an entire bowl of pudding to oneself was a godsend.

Farrier was about for a couple of hours. His puppy Westley came too, his brown fur wiggling between all these new people then sticking his butt down beside Genevieve. Obliging to his silent request, she scratched the German Shepherd between the ears. With a disgusting jumper on, Farrier sat next to Genevieve as she cuddled into the dozing Jack’s arm, bowl in her lap.

“Jack told you ‘bout the bet then?” He cleared his throat.

“Yeah.”

“You don’t have to follow through if it is a boy.”

“What happens if they’re a girl, what are the stakes?” Genevieve asked.

“Lifetime of babysitting,” Jack piped up from under the paper crown that acted as a sleeping mask.

“I mean we’ll probably rope you into it anyway, so don’t worry about it,” Genevieve shrugged and, when Farrier made to protest, she leant against his arm instead with fluttering eyelashes. He silenced himself, taking a sip of his mulled wine, then allowed himself to be taken in too by the tiny socks from Ethel.

Once that bowl full was in her belly, Genevieve ate some leftovers then immediately fell asleep. As bedtime approached, Jack found her, snoring a little, on his old bed. His tattered teddy snuggled in the crook of her arm, her new pyjamas that Jack had gifted her that morning just loose enough on her figure to be comfortable for her and the baby. He teetered on the edge of the bed and embraced his wife, falling into slumber almost as quickly as she had done.

Winter rolled into spring without severe illness. Genevieve’s tummy ballooned up between doctor’s appointments. Her penultimate meeting was a little tense since she had been experiencing a lot of pain on the underside of her belly. The entire trek from the car to the waiting room then to the office, Jack held her hand and whispered comforting words to ground her. Tummy measured, listened to, temperature taken, nothing came from the doctor.

“Is the baby ok?” She finally asked. Her voice was so soft that the doctor didn’t register it. Jack repeated it, still holding her hand with his chin lifted up from beside hers.

“Heartbeat is steady, growth is fine,” The doctor washed his hands, “Your baby is perfectly healthy.”

When he didn’t say anything else, Genevieve prompted him, “And the pain?”

“Normal.”

Of course, Genevieve pushed for more than that and a deeper explanation of the pain, Jack doing the same, but there was nothing (apparently) that the doctor could do. The appointment closed without providing the security they were hoping for.

The car ride home, Genevieve played with a soft blanket she’d found in a charity shop on the way back. Its corners were frayed but it was so comforting with its gentle touch.

In meantime, Jack was brainstorming what else to do with the day. It was only five. There was time to do something else, something to take their minds off things. Nothing spectacular, something free, an activity that wouldn’t cause Genevieve too much pain, there weren’t many options for them. Then the perfect idea sprung into his mind as he pulled on the car’s brake

“Do you wanna go out?”

“Yeah, please.”

A pleasant evening in the back garden of the Collins’ household, Genevieve was lying on her back on a picnic blanket, reading aloud “The Great Gatsby” to Jack who was curled up at her side. Dresses were no longer an option for Genevieve so she opted for wider trousers. The lower section of her shirt buttons and her trousers were undone, exposed the swollen stomach for Jack to rub the new blanket across, tracing the stretch marks. In turn, she lightly scratched her nails back and forth across the back of his head with idleness. His hair was a little too long, a haircut overdue. Her other hand being occupied with the novel; her cane lay in the grass above her head, out of sight and mind.

“‘There was music from my neighbour's house through the summer nights. In his blue gardens men and girls came and went like moths among the whisperings and the champagne and the stars’... Love, that tickles.”

Looking down at her swollen belly, Jack stopped moving the corner of the blanket, resting it there on her skin instead, “Sorry, Ginny.” He smiled innocently.

Genevieve smiled back knowingly before continuing: “‘At high tide in the afternoon I watched his guests diving from the tower of his raft, or taking the sun on the hot sand of his beach while his two motor−boats slit the waters of the Sound, drawing aquaplanes over cataracts of foam. On weekends his Rolls’ – ah!”

She gasped, her book dropping beside her. Jack shot up, his hand still cupping his belly. They exchanged a look of surprise.

“You felt that?” Jack whispered. On cue, a small kick came from underneath her skin, delivered right to Jack’s right palm, and he squealed, “The baby!”

Pressing his lips against the skin, he spoke excitedly to the bump, “Hey baby, it’s me, your da! Can you hear me?” Another kick made Genevieve groan then giggle.

“Hey, sweetie,” Jack rested his chin there so the baby could feel as well as hear him talk, “You’re kicking again, it’s been a while! Don’t worry, you’ll be out soon. Just another couple o’ months and I’ll be able to hold you. You’re gonna love it and you’re gonna love your ma.”

Between trying not to cry at Jack’s baby voice and staring pointedly at her stomach, Genevieve said, “Baby, I love you too. But can you let me keep reading to your da?”The baby seemed to understand and stopped kicking her so she sallied forth: “Thank you, baby. ‘On weekends his Rolls-Royce became an omnibus, bearing parties to and from the city between nine in the morning and long past midnight’ – ow… ‘while his station wagon scampered like a brisk yellow bug to meet all trains.’ Oh!”

“Our baby’s gonna be a boxer,” Jack cooed, rolling another kiss onto the skin to soothe the kicking from the outside.

“Can she practise when she’s out of me?” Genevieve winced, “I love her but it’s rather difficult to concentrate.”

“So you DO think it’s a girl?”

She scowled in jest at her husband before continuing with her read-through:

“‘And on Mondays eight servants, including an extra gardener, toiled all day with mops and scrubbing−brushes and hammers and garden−shears, repairing the ravages of the night before. Every Friday five crates of oranges and lemons arrived from a fruiterer in New York every Monday…�� God, I really want some orange juice.”

The baby kicked again.

“She agrees. She needs her strength.” Genevieve gave into Jack’s daughter conspiracy. He helped her to stand, and bundled up the rug while Genevieve buttoned up her trousers and made her way back to the house. Once the rug was packed away, Jack helped her upstairs.

Genevieve swerved left with new energy (on slow release) to get to the nursery. It looked mildly sparse. Unfortunately, decorating was placed on hold due to Genevieve’s lack of employment. Funds instead went to the mortgage that was almost crippling. Handmade bedding, old toys and second hand furniture were what they made do with and Genevieve regularly assured Jack that it all added to the rural theme of their home.

“Plus, the baby won’t know about that kind of thing for six months at least,” was her final attempt at reassurance - for herself as well as Jack. If she could, she would give the world to her baby. But the world was shite and the baby deserved more.

Looking about the room with tired looking wallpaper, Genevieve searched for where to put the blanket. Finally she hobbled over to the crib and tucked it in, smoothing out a ripple satisfied. Jack kissed her cheek, hugging her carefully from behind with his hands finding the baby bump again like a key to a lock.

Back into their bedroom, Jack waited patiently for Genevieve to get changed. Today seemed like a good day, in his opinion at least, but he wanted to make sure in case -

“Jack? Would you mind?”

“Of course,” and he was already down on one knee, untying one of her shoe’s laces. Eased each one off, he peeled off her socks too while Genevieve changed her top half, freeing her skin with unrestrained relief. Her sighs were abruptly cut off with a groan. Her shirt was clutched to her chest and her back curved.

“It’s fine,” She took caution as she stood up and pulled on her nightgown, stretching it over her belly, “Just hurts.”

Watching as she stepped out of her trousers, Jack left her clothes on the chair tucked in the corner. It took him extensively less effort and pain to change into his pyjamas. With his free time, he sat next to Genevieve, waiting for her to look at him before he spoke.

“I’m so proud of you.”

It was a triggering sentence. Genevieve’s eyes instantly grew teary. A hand began cradling her head, and Jack squeezed her shoulder, kissing her forehead before looking down at the bump, “And we can’t wait to meet you, baby.”

“Thanks… Kinda want that orange juice now please.”

Letting loose a high-pitched giggle, Jack nodded, “Grab you some now.”

On the way down, he decided to brew himself some tea. He could always trade with Genevieve if she changed her mind and wanted his drink instead. As the water boiled, he opened the can, poured it out in full. Then he sped through making his own beverage for he didn’t want to keep his wife waiting.

Genevieve was passed out with the book on her tummy, the spine of the paperback novel bent. Her tags – his old ones – were on the bedside table, her wedding ring also on the link for it wouldn’t fit on her finger anymore. Taking a sip from his tea, Jack placed her glass adjacent to her tags. Then he removed the book from her tummy to let it join the others on the bedside table. He was pleased that she had gotten to sleep so quickly; he prayed that he would be able to do the same.

Not that slumber ever lasted long these days. Waking up to a heat she was not comfortable with, Genevieve winced and turned her head to face the window. One eye barely cracked open. It was dark so she had the excuse to not get up just yet. With a long exhale, she closed her eyes properly and tried to force herself into sleep so she wouldn’t spiral into self doubt again or wake up Jack.

“Hey, baby.”

Damn, caught out already. She sighed again. Oh well, maybe it was time to get up. But just as she went to reply to this term of endearment, she heard Jack speak again.

“It’s ok, just your da here.”

Oh.

“Catching up. You were giving your ma some grief today. I promise I’ll get your aunts and uncle to give you lessons on self-defence lessons if you tone it down. Your ma deserves a rest.”

He shifted beside her and soon Jack had his cheek flattened against the skin, “You know, I reckon you’re gonna like going to the park. It’s where I took your ma for our first date. I hadn’t seen her in five years but she was more beautiful than ever. We were cloud-gazing and making out in the rain – I’m getting this in now because you can’t protest about it – and another time we went on the swings. You’ll like the swings too. Sure, you’ll have to grow a bit of course before you can use them on your own but you can sit in my lap. I’ll be gentle with the swinging and then when you’re older I can push you. You’re gonna have so much fun, I promise.”

Such an image stuck in Genevieve’s head, the baby without any defined features but she could hear laughter from them both and it made her sniff sharply to match the sting in her eyes.

Pressing a kiss down, Jack moved onto another topic, “Your ma wants to call you Daisy, after the character in the book she was reading us. But if you ask me, Daisy is a bit of an arse leading Gatsby on when Nick’s a perfectly good partner for him and she forgets she’s got a baby too… And honestly Daisy’s a name you give to a cow, not a bonny babe.”

Genevieve snorted loudly at that. He thought he was hilarious, he did.

“Eavesdropping, Ginny?”

Then she remembered she was meant to be asleep.

She cracked open an eye and landed her gaze on Jack, smiling in the dark. “Now don’t pretend you don’t talk to her too. I heard you and her the other night in the bathroom.”

Flushing at the memory of her brushing her teeth and talking about other potential names to the bump’s reflection, Genevieve made effort to face him better and the tears that had brewed in her eyes spilled down her temples into the pillow she was lying on.

“Ginny, why are you crying?” Jack asked, even though he knew why. Mood swings, with the last experience being when Genevieve became hysterical over the wallpaper of the nursery, yelled at Jack for suggesting something else, and then refused to let him accept her multiple apologies.

Genevieve took a shuddering breath in then spoke, “You’re gonna upstage me, be such a good dad.” And while this started off as a joke, it soon faded into seriousness as she asked Jack, “Am I gonna be a good mum?” Before he could reply, she added, “It keeps me up at night. Always thinking about it.” Jack was horrified to think that his wife was kept awake, plagued with trite doubts, when he was so certain of her talents.

“No, no, you’re gonna be the most amazing mum,” He wriggled up to her side.

Genevieve sniffled, wiping her nose in the duvet and pushing it away in disgust, “You’re just saying that because you love me.”

“How dare you? I’m completely unbiased.” The speed and monotonous horror with which Jack defended himself set Genevieve off in half sobs half snorts. She smothered them in the snotty blankets, more tears slipping out. Jack shuffled closer still, his nose a few inches from Genevieve’s shoulder, “Will you let me hold you again?”

“No, it’s too hot.”

“Ok.” Only rubbing his thumb on her belly now, Jack dropped his voice to a whisper so that the baby couldn’t hear their parent chat, “You know I worry that I don’t provide for you, I just feel a bit helpless, here while you’re carrying our baby. But you always tell me otherwise, and I trust your judgement.”

Genevieve sniffled, ready to defend him from his doubts, “You aren’t helpless. You gave me a back rub the other day. You shared your tea with me a lot.”

“Exactly, and you trust my judgement too?”

“Of course.”

“Then trust me when I say you’re gonna be alright.” Jack kissed her cheek, his lips smudging away the last tear that fell. “We’re going to be alright. And Baby agrees,” he added as another kick thumped against her tummy and his thumb.

“Baby doesn’t know what she’s saying,” Genevieve grumbled, tapping the bump as if she was scolding the child.

“Sure she does,” Jack protested gently, peering down at the bump with a smile that he could just contain behind his lips, “She’s gonna be a superhero like her Ma.”

Ever the voice of reason, he advised that they should get another few hours in. He lightly patted the baby bump then rolled over and fell asleep on the instant. During that time, Genevieve had changed her mind about the cuddling but, so that she wouldn’t disturb Jack, she focused on getting off to sleep. That way, tomorrow they could cuddle as much as they liked.

Everything Tag: @tomgcsglasses and @scottishlowden

Dunkirk Tag: @lowdenglynnstyles, @kgcurtis30, @carneylowdenwhitehead, @theres-no-paradise, @blondeeee-e, @luleraina, @starryrevelations and @orphan-with-a-stutter

Jack Tag: @adriennelenoir, @lowdensnose, @from-the-clouds, @johannalauraaa and @lowdenfanpage

Complementary Tag: @you-are-the-first-dream, @disneydirectioner, @lavidademarimar, @sweetsugarhoneyfics and @prettyboytgc

#jack lowden #jack lowden x reader #jack lowden imagine #jack lowden x oc #jack lowden series #complementary #series #collins dunkirk #collins x reader #collins x oc #collins imagine #my writing #r: female #dunkirk series #dunkirk

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