#wear nice long skirts to go swish swish swish as i sweep the floor

[magical-girl-04]

I would be SO content being a housewife the rest of my life and yet here I am at uni becuase I can't talk to girls for the life of me 😭

[taetaesbitch]

My Secret K-pop Idol - Chapter 1 - Seduction

This is the start of a smutty series, mostly about Taehyung, but there could be parts with the other members. Enjoy! 

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: 18+, fluff.

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You meet Taehyung at a bar as a non-army and so are unaware of his famous status, things get heated. A couple of weeks after, you begin work at a new company, where you are assigned as an assistant for BTS. You are shocked to find that Taehyung is in fact V and he is equally shocked that you are the assistant. As you are now with them nearly 24/7 it proves difficult to keep your hands off one another, and it’s not just Taehyung that wants you...

Chapter 1 - Seduction

Dionysus was your only option. The bar where everyone headed to wind down from a heavy day. As you enter, something feels different. Off. You come here often enough to notice new people. You spy four men in masks, they also wear hats, as if to conceal their identity. Strange. Suspicious. As you observe them, you meet the gaze of one. Warm chocolate brown eyes stare into yours, strands of black hair falling into them. Captivating. Enticing. You look away first, your cheeks heating as you walk down the steps in a short dark purple dress, and straight to the bar, taking your usual seat. You nod to the barman to give you your regular drink and thank him. You sway slightly in your seat to the music playing, your hair cascading over your shoulders. Soon you feel a presence beside you, a deep voice orders four shots. Looking over, you once again meet the eyes of the stranger, who feels oddly familiar all of a second. You squint at him as his eyes roam over you before meeting your gaze again, he begins to fidget under your gaze. The alcohol in your system gives you confidence as you ask, “Do I know you from somewhere? Have we met?” He seems to hesitate, laughing nervously as he replies, “No. No, I don’t think so.” The barman places a tray of shots in front of him, he begins to pick it up. You sit up straighter as something shoots into your memory, “Aha! Are you the guy from my high school? The one who was always walking around with headphones on?!” He freezes and looks up at you, shocked for a second before confirming, “No, no. We weren’t allowed headphones at my school.” He looks relieved and his eyes crinkle as he smiles behind his mask. “Oh.” You blush and stand up, “Sorry, excuse me.” You politely smile and head for the bathroom. Stupid. Stupid. A cute guy approaches you and what do you do? Make a complete fool of yourself. When you return, you see that the mysterious stranger has returned to his friends, who are tipping back shots as we speak. You sigh and order a shot for yourself, you tip it quickly down your throat, relishing the burn. You hear someone clear their throat from beside you, making you jump. You look at the same guy startled. He lowers his mask. Your breath catches in your throat as you take him in. He’s beautiful. His smile makes you feel all tingly. His lips are incredibly sensual as he speaks. You think of all the things he could do with them. Damnit! Snap out of it! “Sorry?” Your eyes meet his once again and he chuckles, obviously aware of the fact that you weren’t listening.

“I said, I never introduced myself… I’m Taehyung.” He bows his head slightly. You smile. Does that name sound familiar? 

“I’m (Y/N),” You bow, “It’s nice to meet you.” He grins.

“(Y/N),” He contemplates, “What a beautiful name.” I laugh nervously and look down at my feet. “Are you by yourself?” Your smile fades and you begin to stutter.

“Um… well… ye-yes.” He frowns.

“Would you like to have shots with us? No one should drink alone… it’s no fun that way.” You seem to fall deeper into his eyes.

“Oh no, it’s okay, I’m fine I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“You wouldn’t be intruding…” He edges closer, “It’s pretty boring over there right now.” 

“Hey!” A voice startles you both. One of his friends seems to have snuck over, he’s standing directly behind Taehyung, “I heard that! Are we too boring for you now?” This one seems devilishly handsome, his dark hair not quite as long as Taehyungs and he’s slightly shorter. Taehyung turns to him with a cheeky grin on his face. The guy flicks his eyes to you, “Who’s your friend Taehyungie?” He grins, as Taehyung blushes at the nickname. You find it incredibly cute. 

“This is (Y/N), (Y/N) this is Jungkook.” He says reluctantly. Jungkook smiles and winks. His name sounds slightly familiar, but I can’t think from where.

“Well (Y/N), you look lonely over here, has he invited you over yet?” You nod.

“Yes, but I don’t want to be a nuisance.” Jungkook gasps sharply.

“Of course not!” He wraps an arm around your shoulders, guiding you towards their table. You hear a grunt of disapproval from behind you, looking back you catch Taehyung’s eye again, holding your stare boldly, he slowly smirks sending shivers down your spine. You turn back around to be met with two more pairs of eyes. The shorter one seems to light up, he sweeps a hand through his silver hair, smiling behind a mask, “Who’s this?” he asks. Fiddling nervously with the hem of your dress, you look into his ethereal eyes.

“I’m (Y/N).”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you (Y/N),” He dips his head, “I’m Jimin.” His name sounds familiar too! Where have I heard them from?! 

“(Y/N)?” That same deep voice snaps you out of your thoughts, you turn towards a concerned looking Taehyung, “Are you alright?” 

You laugh nervously, “Yeah, I’m good.” You must have been frowning. You turn towards the last guy, who seems to tower over you, “Hey I’m Namjoon.” His mask is already down and he smiles awkwardly, but he has the cutest dimples. 

“Well it’s nice to meet you all, but... I really should be going.” Your feet take you back a few steps, until you bump into a solid chest. Spinning, you come face to face with Taehyung, who wears a determined expression.

“Stay.” It’s not a question, it’s a command and you can’t help the warmth that pools in your core. Your eyes widen as he raises an eyebrow and steps closer. You take a step back. You both continue until your waist hits the table and you wince. Drinks topple over, one spilling down Jimin’s shirt, a shocked expression falls over his face. You gasp, instantly grabbing a napkin and mopping at his chest. “Oh my! I’m so sorry!” Your hands begin to shake as you panic, “I’m really sorry I’ll buy you another one!” Jimin’s hand on your wrist halts your movement and he laughs.

“It’s ok, no need to worry.” You look up into his eyes seeing nothing but genuine sympathy. Pulling his mask down, he smiles, as if to reassure you. A hand clamps down on your shoulder making you jump. It’s Jungkook.

“(Y/N) you seriously need to relax, here,” He hands you a shot, “Drink up.” You look at him, eyes wide and lips slightly parted as you bring the glass to your lips. You hesitate. Jungkook grins and tips the liquid into your mouth. You make a sound of protest as you gulp it down…. 

Four shots later the room is beginning to tilt and you all laugh as you slam our shot glasses down. “Another!” Cheers Jungkook. You giggle, your hair falling into your eyes as you agree. You look at Taehyung who stares back at you with amusement in his eyes. You stick your tongue out at him teasingly. He eyes your lips before meeting your gaze, you can’t seem to look away as his eyes darken. They become almost...hungry. He reaches out, his fingers brush across your cheek, creating electrical sensations as he tucks your hair behind your ear. You forget to breathe as he moves closer, placing those soft lips against your ear and whispering, “Let’s dance.” He grabs your hand, tugging you off your seat and onto the confined dance floor. The place has gotten busier and you wiggle between bodies. Finding a space you begin. Swaying your hips to a highly sensual song.

...Baby strip down for me gonna take em off,

Don’t worry baby imma meet you halfway,

Cause I know you wanna see me,

No heels, no shirt, no skirt, All I’m in is just skin, 

You a beast oh, You know that I like that,

Come on baby all I wanna see you in is just skin... 

Taehyung dances in front of you, his eyes roaming all over your body as you both dance. Soon enough his hands come to rest on your hips, you like the pressure as he squeezes and draws you closer. His eyes are intense. Their warm brown colour flaring like fire as he stares into your eyes. He wants something. Your lips part slightly as you draw in breath and he dips his head, lips crashing into yours, causing you to moan. You wrap your arms around his neck, his hands sliding around to your back. You part your lips, allowing him access as his tongue sweeps in and he groans. You break the kiss for air, panting, “Tae-Taehyung.” his lips move down your jaw, making you so wet and wanton. He murmurs against your skin, “Call me Tae.” You surrender to his kisses as he trails down your neck to your chest, before you spin around and start gyrating on his front with your backside. You guide his hands onto your hips, you can feel his hardness as you push against it, he  breathes in sharply. His teeth graze the spot where your neck meets your shoulder, before clamping down. Biting. Marking. Sucking. “T-Tae.” You whimper at the sting and his hot mouth on your bare skin. It seems that as soon as it begins it’s over, as Tae is ripped away from you and you hear Namjoon shouting, “We’ve been found out! We need to leave!” You spin stunned, before you begin to sway again at the sight of Tae. The music pounds in your ears. Namjoon’s hand is fisted in the shoulder of Tae’s white shirt, the top buttons undone. His face tilted, sweat glistening as he looks down at the floor. His chest heaving from dancing and despite listening to Namjoon, his eyes quickly meet yours again. A predatory glint in his eyes. You dance for him then, swishing your hips and lowering yourself before curving up and around. Showing him you want it. He nods in answer for Namjoon before stalking towards me. He leans in close, “Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?”

You giggle, looking into his eyes and biting your lip, “Maybeee.” One side of his lips tilts up, “You think this is funny?” You laugh at his question and respond with the same answer, “Hehehe maaybee.” His lips seem to tuck in as he stares at you firmly, mock surprise and anger in his eyes. “Hehe you look cute.” You tap his nose. He freezes as you hear a commotion from behind. Suddenly your feet are swept out from underneath you and you hear Tae say, “Time to go.” You lay over his shoulder, his hands dangerously high up on your bare thighs as your dress seems to have ridden up, seeming to bounce as he moves.

“H-hey!” You hiccup, “Put me down.” You feel the vibrations of his chuckle and he imitates, “Maaybeee.” You huff.

“Well ok, but I know the shortcut out of here.” You feel yourself immediately lowered to the ground.

“Lead the way.” His hand sweeps out in the gesture as he bows. You hear someone shout, “There he is!” You spin to see roughly six girls screaming and pointing.

You frown, “Who is he?” In your drunken haze you look at Tae who seems to wear a look of fear, “Me. (Y/N) We really need to go!” Realisation dawns on you and you grab his hand, as you rush towards a door, down some steps and out of a fire escape. You barely feel the cold air, too high on adrenaline to care. You're both out of breath as you begin to pick up the pace, running next to a brick wall in a quiet street, you hear the distant echo of the girls. 

“Quick! In here!” You pull Tae into a small alcove in the wall, hidden in darkness.

Your chests are pressed together, your hearts pounding together, blood pumping loud in your ears. You both try to calm your breathing as the girls run past. Breathing a sigh of relief, you gaze questioningly at Tae, “What was that about?” He looks at you surprised, and then smirks. “They’re my fans.” You burst into laughter and he quickly places his hand over your mouth to shush you. You shake it off, “What are you an idol?” You giggle and he chuckles knowingly. Looking around you confirm that there is no one around. You go to move, but Tae’s hand wraps around your waist as he jerks you back against him. He stares down at you, the wall is rough against your back, his body hard against your front. His other hand gently tips your chin up, his eyes flick down to your lips, everything slows down as his tongue snakes out to lick his lips. Heavy lidded, his gaze meets yours again before he brushes his lips softly over yours. You apply a little more pressure as you melt. That’s all he needs to deepen the kiss, lips moulding to yours before his tongue slides over your bottom lip, asking for entry. You take him in hungrily. Snaking your arms around his neck, your fingers lacing into his thick hair. His hands slide up your outer thighs, you like the coldness of his rings on your hot skin, they come to rest on your ass before squeezing and lifting, you gasp into his mouth as he picks you up and presses you against the wall. Your dress rides up as you wrap your legs around his waist, you feel the bulge in his trousers grinding slightly against that sensitive place. He breaks the kiss, humming as he nips at your neck. You begin to move against him, rubbing on him. He groans, “I want you.” You’re both panting. A loud ringing snaps you out of it. Tae curses and slowly puts you down. Your head falls back against the wall as he reaches for his phone, “Hello.” His voice is gravelly and irritated as he answers. “Yes I got away. I’ll see you in a couple of hours. Yeah Bye.” He sighs and puts the phone back in his pocket. He looks at you longingly, resting his hands on either side of your face. “What am I going to do with you?” You place a hand on his.

“Come home with me?” He scoffs before dropping his head onto your shoulder, his lips brushing your neck, tenderly caressing your skin. “I can’t. I need to go.” Your hands grip his waist, “Please. Stay.” His chest rumbles against you as he chuckles again. Your beginning to love that sound. He pulls back and looks down at you, sighing once again. “Fine.” 

You grin like the Cheshire cat.

[thebeethathums]

Observers - 49

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Mycroft knew something was bothering you the moment he walked through the café doors. His assumption quickly confirmed when you slipped over to greet him, giving only a weak grin, “Hey, Mycroft. What can I get you?” He pursed his lips, “Coffee- Black, three sugars. No French or formalities today, (F/n)?” You just shook your head, “I’ll be back with your coffee in a moment.” When you returned but didn’t sit with him as you usually did, he couldn’t help but give a small frown- you could plaster a very convincing fake grin on your face and fool everyone else but not him. In a lull, he caught your attention and you trotted over obediently, ready to fulfill whatever his request might be. For the first time since he’d started coming in, he had to ask you to sit with him, “May I have a word, (F/n)?” Looking over your section and then at the time, you gave a short nod and went to make sure someone would cover you while you took a break. When you returned, he broached the subject head-on, asking what was on his mind, “Did Sherlock tell you to stay away from me?” 

Your eyes widened, “N-No, Mycroft… I know he was not exactly happy about us talking but I am my own person. He cannot tell me what to do or whom to talk to.”

“Then whatever is the matter, my dear?” Mycroft frowned, he would never admit it but he could see the value of the company of another when you sat with him… he might even go so far as to say you were friends. It was a rather foreign concept to him and the slight sense of caring was bothersome but he knew it wasn’t something he couldn't stop, so he just accepted it. It was kind of nice to have someone other than Sherlock to talk to. He watched you chew at your lip before sighing and raising your eyes to look at him, “You told me once that caring was not an advantage…” “Yes and if I recall you made a fairly good argument for the merits of caring for others.” You fiddled with your pen, capping it and uncapping it, “I’m beginning to think I was wrong.” “And why is that?” “Just look at my life Mycroft… the only person I deeply care about that hasn’t hurt me is John- even Harry has hurt me in the past- and beyond that, the others that I care about either leave me, get themselves killed, or take advantage… and with those that haven’t, it's only a matter of time before they do.”

Mycroft furrowed his brow, unsure of how to handle this new attitude, “And you would give up your friends to avoid this?” There was a short silence as you thought that over and then shook your head, “No… I suppose not,” before running a hand through the front of your hair, “Maybe I just need to step back from everything to see the whole picture… it certainly helps with my paintings.” You suddenly looked up and offered him a genuine smile, “Thank you, Mycroft. You were very helpful.” He gaped at you confusedly for a moment, not understanding exactly what he’d done to be helpful, but you just grinned at him and then got up to get back to work. After straightening your apron, you patted his shoulder and murmured, “Merci Beaucoup, Monsieur Holmes. À la prochaine.” He watched you bounce away, enthusiasm restored, and rolled his eyes as he shook his head- he would never understand the emotions of those less intelligent than him, especially women. One second they were happy and the next sad… it was off-putting. Mycroft had long since gone when you heard Annie call you from across the café, spinning to respond only to freeze and then break into a wide grin followed by a loud squeal, “GABRIEL!” You bounded over to greet a tall man with tan, olive skin and a flop of dark hair with a slight wave, throwing your arms happily around his neck so he could sweep you off the ground and into a spin, “Hola, querida! Cómo estás?” “Come on Gabe, you know my Spanish is terrible…” you pouted, leaning back from him slightly as Annie laughed, the noise drawing your attention to her, “Why didn’t you tell me he was coming? Why didn’t you call Gabe?” Annie rolled her eyes and went to take care of your section when he kissed the end of your nose, causing you to giggle as he flashed a brilliant smile and explained, “I wanted to surprise you. Everyone in Paris misses you so much… I figured you’d be missing us as well,” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively as he added, “especially me.” You laughed happily, wiggling so he would set you down again, “You flirt! I’ve missed you too, Gabe, but I rather like London. It’s started to feel like home.” “You’ve been well then? Happy? No troubles?” he queried, concern clouding his normally jovial expression. Nodding, you grinned, “I’m getting back to myself again. It’s definitely a relief.” “Well then, amor,” he purred, taking your hand to twirl you into a dip, “Care to go salsa dancing with me tonight?” “Like a date?” you asked, poking his cheek so he would let you up as he simply responded, “Si.” You furrowed your brow as you considered it for a second- you’d known Gabriel for a long time and he’d been one of the ones to take you to the hospital when that whole mess happened so you trusted him. You couldn’t say you weren’t attracted to him and you knew your friendship would remain intact even if it didn’t work out because he was just a laid back guy but what about Sherlock? You had never felt the way you did with him for anyone else but on the other hand, it wasn’t as if he felt the same… you two weren’t even in a relationship. If you were going to care then at least it could be with someone who cared back- maybe this was the universe's way of saying you should move on. Deciding that if you were ready to be in a relationship again, then you deserved a chance to be happy and loved, you offered Gabriel a grin, “Pick me up at eight. 221 Baker Street.” Before he could respond, you swished away to get back to work, tossing him a flirty grin and a wink as you caught up to Annie who softly hummed, “About time you got back out there but what happened to your detective friend? I thought you two had a thing.” “Nope. He’s married to his work and devoted to his mistress- science.” She raised an eyebrow, picking up on the slight bitterness in your tone, but didn’t press, simply offering, “Have fun tonight then. You deserve it.” After work, you went to your closet and pulled out the dress you’d been thinking about all day, a cute red number with an open back and knee length ruffled skirt that had a slit that went all the way up your thigh. Cliché, you knew, but what else do you wear out salsa dancing? Besides, it looked damn good and you had an adorable hair clip and heels to match. You were almost ready when you went to reach for a lipstick and found that the bag you kept your plethora of lip things in was missing, sighing as you tried to remember where you could have left it. A light bulb popped up as you remembered that you had gotten ready for work upstairs one morning when your water wasn’t working. You’d probably left it in the boy’s flat and, since you carried your current favorite shade of lipstick with you, it hadn’t come up until now. You glanced at the clock- Gabe would be there in less than five minutes and you could only pray that at least John was not only home but that your bag was easy to find as you turned to bound out of your flat and up the stairs. Not bothering to knock, you burst through the door, heels clicking across the floor as you frantically searched for your bag, grumbling, “Where the bloody hell is it? I can’t go out without lipstick… might as well just go naked.” John looked up from his laptop and Sherlock from his microscope, both startling slightly at your choice of attire as John frowned, “You look nice… where are you going?” Your dress looked fantastic with your strappy red heels and you’d left your hair down, one side pulled back with a clip shaped like a gold butterfly with red accents. You found your bag under a small stack of papers, holding it up triumphantly before swishing over to the mirror to add a dark red lipstick to your already striking makeup as you answered, “I have a date.” You spun and gave your hips a little shake as you beamed, “He’s taking me salsa dancing.” John opened his mouth to ask some follow-up questions but the buzzer rang and you giggled, “I have to go… don’t wait up.” John looked to Sherlock as you bounded down the stairs and out the door, noting that he’d gone a little pale, “What happened there?” Sherlock went back to his microscope as though nothing had happened, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” John narrowed his eyes, “I’m talking about my sister going out on a date… Don’t you care? I punched you…” He didn’t look up as he grumbled, “Why should I care if she’s going on a date?” “So you’re not jealous?” Sherlock huffed, “Jealousy is for simple minded idiots.” John rolled his eyes, going back to his blog since goading Sherlock wasn’t getting him anywhere, and Sherlock let his face slip into a frown. He was jealous… why were you going out with another man? That was not what he’d expected after what you had done together the other night. He couldn’t understand it… maybe you had just used him to get over your insecurities about dating again, or maybe he’d done something wrong during the physical act- it was an area he was relatively inexperienced in. What did this guy have that he didn’t? He was probably an idiot. His mind raced as he tried to figure it out, coming to the only final conclusion that he could- he disliked this entire situation and he needed to do something about it immediately.

TAGS <3:

@team-free-sherlock @multifandom-ramblings @madshelily @severusminerva @yes-but-theyre-my-dorks @smitemewiththysherlock @not-fandom-addicted @unknownwonder @deducingdevil @aviien @mrsfrankensteinsworld​ @lolamurphy @bakerstreethound @musical-doll-x @protectteamfreewill @delightful-pirate @lilcutekittykat @broke-and-overwhelmed @adri1ii @turtle-at-the-disco @fanfictionsilove @chasedbyhowlingwolves @thorkyrie-rights

[moon--y]

--- of diligence and housework | J.M.

Summary: Chapter 2 from ‘Of Mountains and Men’ follows Katherine as she learns the ways of ranch life. She struggles to get used to the new time period but John seems to be willing to help her.

Rating: SFW. Mrs. Geddes is a bit of a .. hateful individual. Frigid, really. Have fun with that. Also, shirtless Marston? Yes please.

Pairing: [AU] John Marston x reader [ generic name used ]

A/N: Here is another installment! Bare with me as I try to get a better hold on John.

In case you missed it, here is chapter one. ( masterlist )

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Hanging Dog Ranch pales in comparison to the sight before her. Wooden buildings contrast against the white capped mountains as the sun slowly lowers closer to the horizon.

“Pronghorn Ranch, ma’am.” John’s gruff voice shakes Katherine from her daze. She swallows and nods. “It’s quite beautiful.” Her voice is a murmur as her nerves begin to set in. 

What was she going to do? How could she convince everyone that she was from this time? What excuses could she make up for being so out of place?

John slows his horse to a stand still near the main home. The door clatters open to reveal a woman in a long skirt and dark red blouse, her hair swept up to contain brunette curls. “Who is that?” Her tone is none too pleased.

A broad-shouldered man follows her onto the porch. He rests his hands on the railing as one brow raises. “Why, that would be a woman, my dear.” A soft smile spreads underneath a bushy mustache.

“Welcome to Pronghorn Ranch. I’m David Geddes and this is my wife...”

“You can call me, Mrs. Geddes, nothing more and nothing less.” Her arms fold across her chest. 

John dismounts and Katherine takes his hands as she slides to the ground. “I’m Katherine Lewis .. I had a run in with ..--”

Mr. Dickens dismounts from his horse. “With the Laramie gang. I believe Jim found her in the barn.” He slips the reins over his horse’s head. “I feel that she could be some help ‘round the ranch .. or house?”

Mrs. Geddes’ chest starts to puff up and she opens her mouth to protest.

“Mighty fine idea Tom!” Mr. Geddes turns to his wife. “Dear, find some clothing for Miss Lewis. What she has won’t suit at all.” He straightens up. “And surely there is housework that she can help with. Perhaps, making supper?” He winks at Katherine as his wife huffs.

“Yes, come along. No doddling either.” The heels of her boots stomp across the porch as she disappears into the house.

Katherine mutters out a quick ‘thank you’ as she hurries after the disgruntled wife.

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“There. That is more appropriate.” Mrs. Geddes finishes straightening up the light grey skirt. She steps back to admire her work. 

Katherine glances down at herself as she adjusts the long sleeves of her blouse. A light blue top with a flower pattern that cinches at the waist. She fidgets in place and hides the wince from the uncomfortable under garments. 

Pretty or not, how did someone manage to wear this every day?

“As Mr. Geddes suggested, you will be helping around the house starting first thing in the morning. There is plenty of cleaning and laundry to do. You will also help with preparing the meals. Our ranch hands don’t eat at our table often but we must be prepared to feed many if the time calls for it.”

Mrs. Geddes circles around her to look out the window. “This will be your room, for now. It is a guest room and if we have guests, you may be moved to somewhere else for the night.” Her arms cross behind her back as she spins to face Katherine.

“I do not want to find you alone with my husband.” Her grey eyes feel like knives cutting through Katherine’s skin. 

“Why would I do that?” Mrs. Geddes scoffs. “Please, child. Do not test me. You young girls always have eyes for a man with ... money.” 

Katherine grits her teeth. “I understand. I will have you know that I have eyes for no one. I have only been here an hour, Mrs. Geddes.” Her tone rivals the woman’s hateful gaze. 

The older woman approaches her and stops nose to nose. “Do not disrespect me or you will find yourself living in the barn.”

Katherine bites her tongue and curtly nods. Living in the barn didn’t seem so bad compared to living with the devil of a woman in front of her.

“Now that that is settled let us prepare dinner. As my husband so sweetly suggested, it is almost time to eat.”

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Katherine wipes her hands on her apron while surveying the meal laid out on the table before her. Beef stew with bread rolls on the side. Nesselrode pudding as dessert. Her stomach growls lowly as the smell wafts to her nose. 

“My then! Someone is hungry and it seems they’re quite the cook to boot!” Bellows Mr. Geddes as he enters the dining room. Katherine smiles a bit. 

“I can’t take credit for the meal but I am certainly ravished.”

Mrs. Geddes unties her apron before approaching her chair. Her husband pulls it out for her and she settles down. “No, she can’t take much credit for the meal .. but she was helpful.” 

Katherine nods in ‘thanks’ as a seat is offered to her. The sound of running boots can be heard as Mr. Geddes sits down at the head of the table. A young boy around the age of ten chases an older boy into the room. 

“Duncan! Angus! You know better than to be running in the house.” The boys skid to a stop at the sound of their mother’s shrill voice. They both utter apologies as they take their places at the table. 

“Sons, this is Miss Lewis. Miss Lewis, these are my boys, Duncan and Angus.” A sense of pride overcomes Mr. Geddes, Katherine can’t help but smile. 

“Nice to meet you.” She smiles softly at the two eye her in curious wonder. It doesn’t take long for Duncan to change the subject. “Pa, I rode that horse again today! Without any help!” His grin of accomplishment grows as his father praises him. 

“I hope you thanked Mr. Milton for helping you the other week, it seems you have learned quite a bit. You’ll make a good horsemen yet.”

A throat clears and all eyes shift to the doorway. John stands in the door frame, his hat held in his hands. A sheepish look on his face. “I hope you don’ mind if I join ya?” 

Mrs. Geddes jumps up from her seat. She straightens her skirts as she hurries to his side. “Oh, Mr. Milton, we wouldn’t mind at all.” Katherine raises a brow at the spectacle. She glances to Mrs. Geddes husband to see if his wife’s sultry undertones were noticed. If they were, he doesn’t let on.

The older woman leads John by the arm to a seat across from Katherine. “Here you are dear. Why, did I ever thank you for helping Mr. Dickens and Abe today?” She continues to cluck over him as he settles in his seat.

“Yes, thank you for that, Mr. Milton.” Mr. Geddes interjects. He raises his glass to him before taking a drink. John nods and pats Mrs. Geddes arm. “All in a good day’s work, ma’am.” This seems to satisfy the rancher’s wife as she grins and finds her way back to her chair.

“I hope ya don’ mind me bein’ here. I know I usually keep to myself for meals but I wanted to check on Miss Lewis.” He glances across the table at her. Mrs. Geddes frown is not lost on Katherine. She sends little smile John’s way.

“That is no trouble at all. I feel that Miss Lewis is settling in nicely.” Katherine sits up straighter in her chair as she smiles at the ranch owner. “Yes, I am. Thank you, again, for your hospitality. I would have no where to go.” As she finishes her sentence, it truly hits her. There was no where for her to go. Not now. Would there ever be?

Mr. Geddes waves his hand in the air. “There is not enough goodness in this world. Helping you is our pleasure.” His wife purses her lips before stiffly nodding. “Having someone to assist with housework will be helpful.”

Katherine does her best to not roll her eyes. The room goes quiet for a moment except for the sound of silverware scraping against bowls. “I was wonderin’ if I could teach Miss Lewis a few things about the ranch. Ya know, like ridin’. I might even show her to town sometime to help get food supplies.”

Katherine finishes a bite of her stew before looking to Mrs. Geddes. The woman does not seem pleased that John’s attention is not focused on her. 

The ranch owner sits back in his chair. “I don’t see why that would be a problem. Surely my wife can spare her from time to time.” Mrs. Geddes visibly stiffens. “Of course, I can.”

John reaches up to wipe his mouth. His brown eyes twinkle as the cloth napkin hides the smirk on his face. He shoots Katherine a wink who blushes and smiles in return.

---------------

The phrase: “at the crack of dawn”, did not mean much to Katherine until this day. Mrs. Geddes at awoken her at 5am, banging on the door as if there was a fire in the house.

Katherine had barely shot out of bed before she entered the room. Of course, the never-ending list of house work was not forgotten as the rancher’s wife assisted her with getting dressed.

“Don’t forget to dust everything and I mean everything. Dust is too common when you live out here.” Katherine had merely nodded to every thing that was laid out before her. 

“After breakfast I want you to get to dusting right away. You will scrub the floors last.” Mrs. Geddes instructed as they prepared the meal for the morning.

Not much conversation conspired over breakfast. Too many sleep filled eyes and yawns filled the room. Once the meal was cleaned up, she had dust rags shoved into her hands before being ushered to the parlor. “I will be in the barn checking over my new foal.” And with the swish of her skirt Mrs. Geddes was out the door.

An hour had passed and Katherine let out a puff of air while she sat back on her haunches. She surveyed her handiwork as she wiped her brow. The sound of the front door brought her to her feet. Mrs. Geddes approached the door way, her judging gaze sweeping over the room. 

“You must remain diligent with your housework, Miss Lewis. It’s been an hour and there is plenty left to do.” Katherine breathed in deeply to keep from snapping. 

She uttered a “Yes Ma’am.” before focusing on wiping down the windows. The foot steps of Mrs. Geddes faded away as she moved deeper into the house. 

Katherine gazed out the window at the ranch before her. She paused mid swipe when she noticed activity near the fence line. John and Mr. Dickens were making fence repairs. John’s shirtless appearance had her frozen in her tracks. Broad shoulders heaved upward as he lifted a new board to interlock between the fence posts. Mr. Dickens seemed to nod in approval once the board was in place.

With the feeling of eyes on his back, John glances back to the house. He spots a figure in the window that has him squinting to see who it was. Mrs. Geddes perhaps? No, even better, Miss Lewis. He rests his hands on his hips as his chest puffs out with an exhale of air.

Katherine realizes that she has been caught and she quickly busies herself with cleaning. Her face and neck flush bright red. 

A grin slithers along John’s lips before he wipes his brow and returns to his work.

[killingkueen]

something old, something new

A RCIJ fic for @thatravenclawbitch

Prompt: lovers who can’t move on

Summary: she returned as a favor to Jefferson, that was all. she hadn’t meant to open old wounds

Rating: idk. M-ish? There’s much talk of detailed sexy times, but not much happening otherwise.

It started with milk.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Jefferson.”

“Don’t want—” he sputtered. “Belle, you go out for a quick grocery run and you return hours later, sans any actual groceries, might I add—”

Her purse thumped loudly as she dropped it to the table, knocking the mail to the floor. She opted to ignore it.

“Leave it alone.” She had barely managed to come away with her dignity, and he was concerned about groceries.

“—with more spots on your neck than a leopard, hair a mess—”

While she kept herself from tugging on her collar, Belle couldn’t help but run another hand through said hair, conscious of the fact that it was very much no longer in the neat style it was when she had left. Her wrists hurt too, from where they’d been squeezed, and she was pretty sure there was a mark on her back from how hard she’d hit the edge of the sink.

“Jeff, please.”

Milk, of all fucking things.

“Darling, you have been ravaged and I want the details. Did it happen in the parking lot? Did some Fabio sweep you off your feet so suddenly you just had to have him in your car? Or—” he lowered his voice, eyes gleaming. “Was shopping all a ruse and you snuck out to meet with a Tindr date?”

Belle rolled her eyes so hard she almost felt them rattle (though she could admit that she had missed his dramatic tendencies). “Are you so shocked?”

“Hardly. I’m jealous. You’re here to help me get laid.”

Her lip twitched, then bloomed into a full smile despite herself. “As if you need my help.”

“I do just exude sex appeal, don’t I?” He shot her his best smoulder, pouting his lips, his hands up to frame him face.

“And have a jawline that could cut glass.” Belle leaned back against the counter, relieved he was letting her change the subject. “Chicks dig that, you know.”

“I admit I was hoping for the more masculine crowd, but I’ll be sure to show off my good side all the same.”

He wandered over to the (empty) fridge, pulling down the take-out menus that were pinned to it. “Speaking of, the beautiful bride-to-be wants me there extra early for the rehearsal. You okay coming with me? She could use the manpower.”

Belle absently ran her fingers over her neck, ignoring the pleasant soreness. “That’s fine, I guess. Is there a lot left to do, then?”

“I’m the maid of honor, Blue Belle. My sacred duties are never complete.” He flashed another smile at her before shuffling the menus about in his hands. “But, her future father-in-law is apparently a bit much, so I think she just wants someone on her side to run interference in case he gets nosy.”

“What, too overbearing? Judgmental?”

“More ‘surly asshole.’” He eyed the marks along her neck, only getting deeper in color. “Actually, you might want to do something about those. Then again, if you wear that nice green dress, you know, the one with the low scoop neck? He might be so scandalized he’ll forget about Emma completely.”

“I'm not some sacrificial lamb,” Belle laughed, tugging again at her collar.

“Anything for the cause, darling. Now then,” he held the menus out like a spread deck of cards. “Do you want Chinese, Korean, or pizza?”

Shifting on her feet, she looked at the options without much enthusiasm. It was after all the same spread they had been enjoying all week, since Belle arrived; lunch, dinner, and leftovers for breakfast if they could stomach it.

“And to think I promised you an actual home-cooked meal tonight.”

“You’re the one who decided getting your rocks off was more important than groceries. Be grateful I’m letting you choose at all.”

She pursed her lips. She did feel a little bad about that, actually.

She had been in the dairy isle. Her phone in one hand, typing out a message to August about her latest article, the other hand pulling out a half gallon of milk. She had glanced down to check the expiration date, had looked to her phone when it tried to autocorrect ‘blunder,’ the door to the fridge closed with a cool gush of air, and when she looked up, there, behind her, reflected in the glass—

“If you feel that strongly about it, how about you decide then?”

“Belle?”

She turned away, resisting the urge to sweep her purse to the floor (it’d be a mess to clean up, and not the satisfying kind). She reached for the cupboard nearest her, hoping for a glass. No luck; only plates awaited her.

“Try the one to the left,” Jeff said, realizing her intention.

She heard the faint swish of paper as he fiddled with the menus.

“I know you said you didn’t want to talk about it,” he said as she filled a glass from the faucet. “But bottling things up has never worked for you.”

Belle took a sip of water. She would kill for a window she could look through, right now. A spice rack, even. Anything but the sad, peeling yellow wallpaper of Jefferson’s apartment.  

“I looked up, and there he was,” she said finally. “He…had cut his hair.”

“You knew him, then?”

“I did, yeah.” Her gaze shift from the sad wallpaper to the sink; clean, shining. A true contradiction to Jefferson’s sporadic, messy nature. “From before.”

He hummed behind her. She could practically feel his frown.

“He kept it long, you know? Used to, rather. I could see his ears. Never seen them before.” They were pointed, slightly curved inward, like a pixie’s, but that wasn’t what had stood out to her, when his face had appeared over her shoulder. His eyes had been dark; two storm clouds ready to split, or swallow her whole. The sharp angles of his face were nearly jagged in the glass, especially without the soft frame of his hair. His face was pale, his lips pinched at the corners. She wanted to run her fingers along the line of his brow, but he looked too sharp to touch, like if she tried, she’d bleed.

“And that got you hot and bothered?”

Belle rolled her eyes at the wall, not giving that the benefit of a response. “I dropped the milk.”

“The milk?”

“He was just suddenly there, and he surprised me, and I dropped the milk, okay?” She turned to face Jefferson, who had his hands up in a placating gesture. She sighed. Lowered her voice. “At least it was only a half gallon.”

“And?”

“The jug broke, and it was all over the aisle, and I had milk running down my leg, and he was just...looking at me.” His suit was unfamiliar, his shirt a light purple she hadn’t seen him wear before. He was altogether brand new and just the same as he’d been the last day she saw him; he even still had a pocket square. A fucking pocket square, placed expertly in his meticulous three piece suit, that he was wearing in early summer, in Boston.

Of course she’d embarrass herself. Of course not a drop of milk landed on him; it wouldn't dare.

“I left the basket right there in the aisle. Ran to the bathroom.” She needed to be somewhere else, where he wasn’t looking at her. Where he wouldn’t open his mouth and—

“The bathroom?”

“He, uhm, followed, which I wasn’t expecting. There was a knock, and there he was, again, with my purse and cell phone, and…”

“How courteous.”

“I pulled him in, locked the door, and before I knew it, my back was against the sink, my skirt was hiked up to my waist, and my panties were...” she shrugged. “Elsewhere.”

Jefferson gave her a searching look, from the top of her head to the love bites on her neck, to the pale expanse of her legs. She shifted uncomfortably; Jeff was perceptive at the worst of times.

“He kept them, didn’t he? Your panties.”

“He did, the bastard. I liked that pair.”

Jefferson snorted. “I didn’t know you had it in you.” He dropped the menus on the counter, his movement careless. “You got off, at least?” he asked.

Belle huffed, annoyed at his casual tone.

“Look, Belle, if you’re going to fuck your ex-boyfriend in a grocery store bathroom, you might as well get off.”

“Yes, God. He got me off.”

Admitting that much was a mistake. His eyebrow waggled. “Oh, he did, did he?”

“That’s all you’re getting out of me, you pervert. I’ve said quite enough already.” Belle took another sip of water. She paused, eyes narrowing. “I never said he was my ex.”

“Didn’t you?”Jeff knelt down to pick up the mail she had spilled, setting it back on the table without looking at it. “You can pick the take-out, but I’ll choose what we watch, yeah?”

That meant she was at the mercy of VH1. She looked to the menus abandoned on the counter, sore and empty, and wondered how much more of America’s Next Top Model she could take.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt Jeff’s arms go around her shoulders, crushing her to him, her arms pressed to his chest, water spilling between them. He ignored how it soaked into his shirt.

“Boston is a big place, honey bird,” he said. “You’re not here much longer—chances are you won’t see him again.”

She sighed, breathing in the familiar scent of pine and wild flowers (he smelled nothing like cedar. Nothing like woodsmoke and whiskey).

“Yeah,” she said, her voice tight and small. “You’re probably right.”

Belle cursed under her breath as she turned into the parking lot of Behind the Glass Sports Bar and Grill, the venue of the wedding. She pulled into the first empty space she could find, between a blue minivan and a yellow bug. After a quick scan, she found Jefferson’s car near the back of the lot, and gave a sigh of relief. She might be late, but at least she was in the right place.

Stupid dreams, keeping her awake last night. Stupid Jefferson, letting her sleep in and not waking her on time. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

At least her dress made it look like she put effort into her appearance, and that she had the foresight last night to rub vinegar against the bites on her neck. They had faded to a light enough blemish that she was able to conceal them with her make up before she had made a mad dash from the apartment.

Belle looked at her face critically in the visor mirror. Digging through her purse, she pulled out her soft pink lipstick, putting on a quick coat before stepping out of her car. There. She was as ready as she’d ever be. She didn’t have mascara, and only her concealer, but a good shade of lipstick worked wonders in a pinch.

When she stepped through the door to the bar, she was met with a large room; sports decal and neon signs lining the walls, large TVs set up high so a screen or three could be viewed from any vantage point. Despite it being nearly noon, the place was empty. Well. Nearly.

“Belle!” Jeff said extravagantly. “Welcome to our base camp!” He was beside her almost instantly, as if he were waiting by the door like a puppy. “So glad to see you made it.”

His hands gripped her shoulders, and he peered into her face critically, his eyes making a path down to her neck.

“Feeling better?”

“I got a lot of sleep. I needed it, apparently.”

Jefferson nodded, his arm sliding around her waist as he turned, his hand pressing lightly at the small of her back so he could lead her into the building.

“It’s important to feel refreshed. This is your vacation, mind, no matter how you might be put to work. Now,” he said, pushing open a door that was next to what Belle presumed to be the kitchen. “How about I introduce you officially to the bride and groom.”

The room Belle had been led to was private, a place set aside for large parties away from the other guests. Most of the tables were pushed against the far wall, the chairs stacked next to them. At the only table in the center was a blonde woman, arms crossed and leaning back in her seat. She had turned to watch them when they entered. The man to her right was still bent over whatever it was they had spread out before them on the table.

“You must be Belle,” the woman said, standing.

“And you’re Emma.” Belle smiled warmly, holding out her hand. “Jefferson has told me so much about you.”

Emma grunted. “I can only imagine. I assure you he’s told me far too much about you.”

The words were standoffish, but the tone was warm, even despite the not quite smile on her face. Belle couldn’t help a laugh. “Yes, he does have far more enthusiasm then sense, doesn’t he?” she said, voice bright.

“You guys are both so mean to me. It’s a wonder I put up with it at all.” Jeff said.

By now the groom had stood also.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she said, holding out her hand. “I’m Belle. It’s nice to meet you, finally.”

The groom was tall, with slightly curly hair and a good amount of stubble. His eyes crinkled, friendly and open when he smiled at her, his hand large and warm as they shook.

“I’m Neal. And please don’t worry about it. I understand how Jefferson can keep you up at night.”

He grunted as Emma jammed her elbow into his side.

“Don’t be gross,” she said.

“Not what I meant,” he laughed, dodging another jab. He kissed her cheek, before he slid back out of her reach.

“No, I know what you mean. He doesn’t turn off,” Belle said with a pointed look in his direction.

“I let you sleep in, didn’t I?”

“I was told I’d be put to work,” Belle said, watching as Neal sat back down. “I’m good at organizing, if you need it.” She looked back at the tables and chairs that were pushed against the wall. “How many are you expecting?”

“There’s you and me,” Jefferson said. “We make up the wedding party on Emma’s side. The best man is Neal’s best friend from college.”

“Mulan’s great,” Neal said, “Real life of the party.”

Emma snorted. “Her girlfriend somehow convinced us to let her be the flower girl and ring-bearer.”

“Apparently it was her dream as a kid to be a flower girl, but she grew up with a distinct lack of weddings, so she never got the chance.” Neal said. “So out of the goodness of our hearts, we’re letting her live her dream.”

“And to top it off,” Jefferson said, “Philip will be officiating.”

“And Phillip is…?” Belle asked.

“Their boyfriend,” Emma said, voice flat.

She looked to the blonde, wondering if it was a joke. From the look on her face, it was not. Belle nodded. “This wedding is going to be amazing.”

“They’ll be here tomorrow, for the actual ceremony,” Neal said.

It was a little odd that three key players in the wedding wouldn’t be attending the researshal, but Belle didn’t comment. She was getting the feeling they were going for a small affair; as long as everyone knew their lines, she was sure it would be fine. “How many other guests?” she asked, thinking of how to set up the tables and chairs.

“My father will also be here,” Neal said. “He’s the reason we don’t just go the courthouse, honestly.” Neal scratched the back of his head, frowning. “Lot less trouble if we do it that way, but he was insistent.”

Belle turned back to the couple when no one continued.

“Wait, so, your father, your party of three, me and Jeff,” Belle listed. “That’s all? For this entire place?”

“We wouldn’t let him pay for the honeymoon, so he’s paying for the party,” Emma said. She crossed her arms, leaning back against the table. “He demanded a venue, so I gave him one. Sue me.”

“If it seems like this has all been put together very quickly and last minute, it’s because it was,” Neal said, smiling.

“Hardly something to be proud of,” a new voice interjected. A very familiar voice, that was accompanied with the very familiar tap of a gold-handled cane. “If you’d both just give me a little more time, I could get a wonderful ceremony set up for you.”

Once, when Belle was a kid, her babysitter had taken her to a park. Near the edge had been a tire swing, four holes drilled into the flat side of the rubber and hoisted up with glinting metal chains, hung about three feet from the ground. She had begged and pleaded to be allowed a turn, and her babysitter had finally given in.

An older boy had offered to swing it for her. When the kid pulled on one of the chains she spun around and around, the world becoming blurry and fluid.

“Again! Again!” she yelled when she slowed.

The boy pulled harder. Belle, somehow, let go.

She never forgot the feeling of being suddenly airborne, of landing hard on her back, the wind whooshing from her chest.

Hearing the tap of a cane, the soft brogue of his voice, she felt just as small and vulnerable as she had been as a child, stunned and wheezing, staring up into the sky not knowing what had happened.

Jefferson raised his eyebrow at what had to be the shock on her face. He stepped closer, arm once again winding around her waist.

Belle tried to breathe, to calm her fluttering heartbeat.

“Hey, Pops,” Neal said, standing again. He crossed the room and clasped his father on the shoulder. “Wed don’t want a grand affair. What we have now is more than perfect,” he said with the air of someone who’s repeated the line many times before. “We were just about to make a game plan for the day. Have you met Emma’s friends yet?”

His brown eyes (soft when looking at his son, sweet like molasses) flickered to Jefferson and Belle, who stood like pillars. She watched his eyes harden, the sweetness evaporating right before her eyes.

He looked to her, then to Jeff, beside her.

With a final press of his hand on her back, Jeff stepped forward, bowing grandly. “Jefferson Louis Masters, at your service. And my lovely date, Miss Belle Marie French.”

She fought the urge to curtesy. “My middle name isn’t Marie, you loon.”

“No?” Jeff straightened. “It should be.” He turned back to his audience, lip twitching when he was met with a steely glare.

“Miss French, how lovely to see you again.” The words sounded as if they were forced past his tongue, grimacing as if each were a tooth pulled.

“Mr. Gold,” she said quietly. “It’s been too long.”

“Has it?” His hand gripped the handle of his cane, his knuckles turning white.

His hand had been at her throat, yesterday; not squeezing, not applying any pressure, just holding. His other, on her hip, pressing her into the sink as he moved inside her.

She had traced the bruise he left last night, had remembered the delightful feel of it forming against the material of her skirt.

“I didn’t know you had a son,” Belle said. Her hand, unseen by the others in the room, clenched into the material of Jefferson’s waistcoat at his back.

Gold’s tongue flickered, wetting his lips. “And why would you?”

He hadn’t said anything, when his body was pressed to hers. She’d heard only his stuttered breath on her face, on her neck, his tongue tracing her collarbone. He gasped when he came inside her, the sound pulled from him.

Jefferson squeezed her shoulder. She tore her face away from Gold in time to see Jeff look away from her. She watched as his eyes narrowed, sizing Gold up. “You have very cute ears,” he said before Belle could think of anything to say.

Gold pursed his lips, unamused.

Belle wanted to sink into the floor. “Jeff,” she groaned. Far too perceptive.

“Right,” Neal said loudly. She had almost forgotten there were other people in the room. “Game plan. Flowers and cake.” Neal looked from Belle to his dad, then to Emma. She shrugged, as clueless as he was.

“We thought everyone would like to get on with their Saturdays, so we decided to divide and conquer,” Neal continued. “Emma can pick out her bouquet and some arrangements for the room, and me and Papa will pick out a cake. Belle, I thought maybe you could come with me and my old m—”

“My expertise is in flowers, actually. Jeff, you can vouch for that,” she said, quickly. “How about I go with Emma, instead? Besides, it’ll be fun, just us girls.”

“What—” Jeff said. “Wait a—”

“I know how much you love sweets,” she said, voice too loud, too cheerful. She was careful to keep her eyes on Jefferson, which was hard to do considering the betrayal that was present in his face.

Emma and Neal shared a look.

“Sounds good to me,” Emma said, pulling on a red leather jacket. “We’ll see you gents later, yeah?”

“Belle,” Jeff said, but she was already headed out the door.

“Save your receipts, Miss Swan,” she heard, but she did not look back.

The door closed behind her as she stepped back into the empty bar. It looked large and open with the sunlight streaming through the windows, when it was empty of patrons. It was friendly, though, and very warm. It wasn’t hard to imagine it full of people, there to watch the big game and drink with friends.

“You wanna drive?” Emma asked from behind her, drawing Belle away from the room.

“Ah, yes, that would be fine. You can tell me where we’re going.”

They stepped out into the sunshine together, Belle unlocking her car.

“You tell me. You’re the flower expert.”

“Oh,” Belle laughed, the sound a little forced. She quickly picked up her loose books and magazines from the passenger side and placed them in the seat behind her. “That was—I meant—”

Belle took a deep breath. She clutched the steering wheel like a lifeline. “I was referring to my father, mostly. He owned a flower shop, and I spent some time there when I was a kid. A lot of time, actually. So.”

Emma grunted. She shifted in her seat so she could reach her phone in her back pocket. “So you don’t know any good places around here.”

“Exactly. You navigate.” Belle started her car, looking behind her to pull out. “Look up the best five flower shops; we can look around, see what’s available. Since you need everything by tomorrow, we might have to go to several places.” Belle could faintly remember the days of going to work with her father. They got a lot of walk-ins, but most wedding bouquets were special orders, and she wasn’t sure what would be available so last minute.

“We’re not doing anything fancy,” Emma said, rolling her eyes, and typing something into her phone. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Right. Emma had probably been strong-armed into having a bouquet in the first place—though the thought of anyone trying to force Emma to do anything was laughable. Belle wondered if she had bothered to get a wedding dress.

Belle drove straight for another block before Emma said, “Hey, there’s a place close. Take a left up here.”

She flipped her blinker down, pulling into the turning lane.

“So,” Emma extended the word on her exhale. “You know Gold, huh?”

We were...ah…” Belle counted cars as they passed, waiting for a break so she could go. “Briefly acquainted, yes.”

Emma nodded slowly, her face carefully neutral.

“How long is ‘briefly’?”

“About 15 months,” Belle said after a long pause. She swallowed, throat tight.

“You owe him money or something? Take a right after the  next light.”

Belle gave Emma a startled look.

She shrugged. “I keep telling Neal that Gold is a borderline loan shark. It’s going to come back to bite him one of these days.”

“N-no. I don’t owe him money.”

Emma hummed. “Grab the next parking space you find. We can walk from here.”

It was another block before Belle was able to pull to the side of the street and park. They both got out of the car, Belle locking it behind them. She grabbed for her wallet so she could pay for the meter, but Emma was faster, already feeding coins into its hungry mouth.

Emma turned to her, sighed. She put her hands into her jacket pockets. “I don’t know what all Jeff has told you about the wedding, but if you don’t want to be here, you can absolutely bail.”

There was a small part of Belle (and she wouldn’t admit to herself just how large it really was) that wanted to take Emma up on her offer. She could climb back into her car and leave, just as she had before.

She was still that little girl, hanging onto the chain links of a tire swing, watching the world blur past her, pretending she wasn’t a part of it.

Belle had hit the ground once, and she’d gotten back up. Surely she could do it now.

“I get it,” Emma said. “Gold can be a bit much.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Emma. But, look on the bright side,” she said, trying to sound more cheerful than she felt. “You have the perfect distraction. Gold will spend all his time this weekend hating me that he’ll forget about you completely.”

Emma snorted. “He’ll remember me soon enough.” Her eyes searched Belle’s face, but looking for what, Belle couldn’t say.

She shrugged, eyes sliding away. “Come on then.”

“It was excruciating.”

“It can’t have been that bad,” Belle lied, pretending to peruse Jeff’s bookshelves.

Jefferson glared at her. She could feel the sting of it at the back of her head. “Belle.” He waited until she turned to look at him. “I just spent three hours with a man who was radiating pure fury and hatred, the pure definition and embodiment of a lover scorned.”

“Jeff—”

“Of a lover scorned, Belle.” He snapped. “He thinks you’re my girlfriend.”

That made her pause. It wasn’t an unnatural conclusion to come to, really. Not with how affectionate her and Jefferson were, and wasn’t that Jeff’s own fault? He had introduced her as his date.

“If that bothers you—”

“It’s not that it bothers me. You’re a catch, Belle, but that’s not the problem.”

“I don’t—”

“Three hours, Belle. Three hours with a man who thinks he had sex with my girlfriend in a supermarket bathroom, and that I don’t know about it.” He flung himself on the couch, massaging his temples.

“Yeah, that would be awkward.”

“Awkward,” he scoffed. “I went along with it, by the way, if I haven’t made that clear.”

Belle sat down next to him. He put his head on her shoulder.

“It seemed the reasonable thing to do, since. You know,” he sighed.

Since I’m too ashamed to be in the same room as him? Since I’m too much of a coward to face him?

“Thanks for taking that bullet, I guess.”

Jeff groaned.  “The thing is, Belle, the thing is—” He waved his hand in the air. “He looked for you. When we got back, cakes in hand—he insisted on three, for some reason, so chances are we’ll be stuck with leftovers—he looked for you. He thought he was being subtle, and I don’t know what he thought he was going to say. When he saw Emma was the only one at the bar, he just. Deflated. Didn’t look surprised, just disappointed. Bid us good day, and left, shoulders hunched like he was going out into a storm.”

Belle didn’t say anything. She didn’t trust her voice.

“Maybe I’m just projecting,” he said into the silence of the apartment. “I half expected you to be gone myself, when I returned ho—”

“Want to get irresponsibly drunk tonight?” Belle asked, before he could finish.

Jefferson sat up, his face so close to hers she could see the darker shade of blue around his irises. His gaze was intense, piercing.

Belle looked away. She had been examined enough for one day.

“Fuck it. Let’s do it.”

Belle was on her third glass of wine, leftover Chinese food left abandoned on the floor beside them. They had ended up on the floor, rather than on the couch or in the kitchen, but Belle couldn’t bring herself to care just then.

“The sex was always good, Jeff. right from the beginning, that man could do stuff to me that I didn’t even think was possible. No, I mean it,” she said when he snorted into his own wine glass; only his second, and he wa nursing it. “He knew exactly how to play me.”

She leaned back, her head resting on the couch cushion. “I trusted him completely. I’ve never been more content with a partner.  I mean it. I trusted him so much, if—if he had so much as hinted that he wanted anal, I would have said ‘absolutely, let’s do this. I’ll grab the lube and condoms’.”

Jeff laughed outright at that. The sound gave her a warm feeling in her stomach that the wine couldn’t reach. “Have you ever tried anal?” he asked.

“Once. It was easily the most uncomfortable I’ve ever been in my life. But he’d have made it good for me. It was always good, with him. Gold took such good care of me.”

He was shaking with suppressed laughter. She wasn’t sure what was so funny, but she didn’t mind.

“Best sex I ever had was with older men, too, now that I think about it,” he admitted. “Mostly.”

“Yeah. Mostly.” Belle took another sip of wine. “What?” she asked, seeing that Jeff was looking at her, his eyes half-lidded with a mischievous glint.

“Was it always good with Gold? Even the first time?”

“Yeah, of course,” she said quickly. Too quickly, she could see.

“Tell me,” he said.

Belle never needed much convincing when she drank wine.

“It took a month into having sex before I gave him a blow job,” she admitted. “He never asked me to. I almost thought maybe he just didn’t like them. Whenever I tried to—” she waved her hand at her lap— “go down, he’d pull me back up and I’d get distracted, you know? And, like, I never really cared that much. God knows blowjobs are overrated.”

Jeff snorted. “Says you.”

She elbowed him. “I asked him about it once. He was sitting at his work bench, explaining to me how this antique—fuck, was it a hearing aid?—in front of him worked, and I had a sudden thought of how nice it would be, if my head were in between his thighs.”

“God, you focus on the weirdest things. His ears. A hearing aid. Oh my god, that’s it, isn’t it? You have a secret—”

She elbowed him again, harder this time, wine sloshing dangerously in her glass. If Jeff wasn’t careful she was going to stain his carpet. “He spent plenty of time between mine, you know, and I just—I just wanted to reciprocate for once.”

“How much convincing did it take?”

“Well, I said, ‘Gold, I want to suck you off. Now. Can I?’ And he just looked at me, surprised. That was it, really. He offered to move to the cot, to make it more comfortable for me, but I wanted him on that bench. So I crawled under the table, and, uhm, took him out.”

Jeff watched her as she talked, a filthy smirk on his face. “I bet he loved that, hm? Was he just like velvet on your tongue, hmmm?”

She snorted, her wine going up her nose when she tried to take another drink. “God—Jefferson!”

“I don’t know why you’d be so scandalized by that. It’s not like you don’t know I’ve given blow jobs before.”

She was laughing, her hands nearly shaking too hard to keep her glass steady. “Why am I even telling you this?”

“No, no please continue. I want to hear what happened.”

She licked at her hand where her wine splashed, the salt of her skin mixing with the sweet twinge of black cherry.

“I forgot where I was.”

“You were giving that man the best head of his life.” He frowned. “No, wait. You’re telling a story about bad sex. Belle,” he gasped, as if realizing her deepest secret. “Are you bad at blowjobs?”

She wondered if throwing something at him would be more effective. “That’s not—God, let me finish.” She leaned against the couch, remembering that day. The feel of his on her tongue, indeed like velvet: soft and hard all at once. His hands clawed into the table because he was worried about pulling too hard on her hair.

She remembered especially looking up into his face, his eyes wild and pupils blown wide, staring at her with such a look of what could only be called rapture. He watched her every movement so carefully, as if it was the last time she was ever going to touch him like that. It felt good, to be the one to make him look like that.

She had just wanted him to feel good. Wanted. Loved.

“When he, uh, was close, I pulled off and asked if he wanted to come in my mouth.” She paused, frowning down at her glass.

“Did he give you the wrong answer?”

Belle snickered. “Nope.” Before Jeff could ask what she meant, she said, “He shot off, right then and there.”

“He came on your face,” Jefferson gasped.

“He did!” she squealed, laughing. “It was partly my fault. The way I was holding him. If I had aimed for, God I don’t know, his stomach it wouldn’t have been so bad, but nope.”

Jefferson was wheezing, laughing with such glee she almost couldn’t make out his next sentence. “I can just imagine the look on your face.”

“He was the one horrified. He was sure I was about to storm out and not come back. He couldn’t enjoy the orgasm he was so worried.”

“Like you’d leave with come on your face,” he snickered.

“Right.” Belle leaned back against the couch again. She stared up at the ceiling as their laughter died down.

“Belle,” Jeff said into the quiet. The refrigerator hummed from the kitchen. “What happened?”

Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was Jeff’s voice. Maybe it was two years of silence, too heavy to carry any further.

“I just had to leave.”

“But why?” he insisted, sitting up. “You disappeared for months, with absolutely no word to anyone, and then when you finally get back in contact, you’re on the west coast? I thought maybe you had gone home to Australia, or fuck, been murdered or kidnapped into some cult, but no, you’re in fucking Oregon like some fucking hipster—” he cut himself off. When he spoke next, his voice was back to a low, even timber. “You were just gone, Belle.”

Her mouth was too dry to speak. She swirled what was left of the wine in her glass, watching the legs as they trailed down the sides like tears.

“Please. What happened?”

What did we do to drive you away?

“I don’t know,” she lied.

Jeff leaned down, sprawling on the floor. His arms knocked into the take-out containers, but he didn’t seem to care. Belle wasn’t sure where he had put his wine.

“Look, I can’t make you talk to me. I’m glad you’re here, Belle, but I don’t like the feeling of not knowing if you’re going to answer my phone calls, or if you’re still going to be here when I come home.”

Belle closed her eyes. It’s not that she didn’t want to talk, exactly; it was just that she wasn’t sure where to start. How did she open up those old wounds and face the disappointment she had caused?

“Disappointment?” Jeff asked, looking at her. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “That’s what you’re afraid of?”

When she left, she didn’t have to think about how much she had hurt him, them, everyone, or how much she had lost when she ran away when she did. So, yeah. Disappointment.

“I’m disappointed, Belle. You broke my heart, too, you know.” He leaned over, kissed her forehead. “But people get over disappointment.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He wrapped his arms around her, pulled her in. “You need to talk to us, Belle.”

“I just left,” she said quietly. “I just left him. I…” she sighed, wishing she hadn’t poured that third glass. “He didn’t even tell me he had a son.”

“Is that why, then? Because he wasn’t opening up?”

“No,” she admitted. “We talked a lot, about other things. About…” She waved a hand. “Other things. I kept telling myself, though, that it was only sex. That is was convenient and neither one of us felt any more.” She bit her lip. “I left, Jeff, and he never called. I guess I just convinced myself he had to think the same.”

“I see.” He sat up on his elbows. “You know something? Once you get past the asshole outer layer, the guy’s hilarious. I want him to be my new best friend.”

That surprised a laugh out of her.

“I’m serious. That man knows how to roast someone and I need him on my side. If you can’t fix this and heal for yourself, do it for me, Belle. If you don’t want this man in your life, I will happily take your place.”

“From what you’ve said about today, he’d more likely to push you into traffic.”

“I would take that chance. We’d be happy together.”

She rolled over so her head was on his shoulder. She wrapped her arms around him. “You’d make anyone happy.”

He kissed her temple. “If you won’t talk to me, Belle, at least talk to him. He’s been waiting for you a lot longer than I have.”

She tugged at his vest, straightening it. “Why can’t we just run away together.” She breathed in his cologne. He smelled nothing like Gold, but it was still comforting.

“Because we both deserve better.”

“What if he doesn’t want me anymore?”

His arms wound around her shoulders, squeezing once, then letting go. “Talk to him, Belle.”

“Yeah,” she said, closing her eyes. “You’re right.”

Short and simple, Emma had said.

Belle stood in the middle of the party room at Behind the Glass Bar and Grill, a table at her back decorated with a pristine tablecloth, three simple single sheet cakes (one chocolate, one vanilla, one pumpkin spice with cream cheese frosting), and a vase full of bright wildflowers.

She watched as Emma swept into the room, all eyes on her, on her slim white dress that hugged her hips, on her bouquet of vibrant sunflowers, hibiscus and orchids. Jefferson was beaming, hands clasped in front of him, standing as still as Belle had ever seen him. Across from him was Neal, unshaven but otherwise looking crisp in his tux. Beside him was Mulan and Aurora, holding hands as they all watched Emma come down their makeshift aisle.

Even Gold was smiling, happy to share the day with his son. She watched his smile deepen when Neal held his hand out to Emma.

Phillip nodded to both of them. “Welcome to the ceremony,” he said to the small group gathered. “Everyone knows why we’re here, and I’m sure I speak for everyone when I say we all couldn’t be more thrilled to witness this blessed union.”

Belle couldn’t help the smirk when she saw Emma roll her eyes.

Emma and Neal said their vows. Aurora gave them their rings; they kissed. As everyone clapped, Belle looked over at Gold. She was surprised to see that he was already watching her.

He didn’t look away.

The soft light fell against the stone walls of the bar. Belle had been right; the bar was friendly and welcoming when it was filled with people. They had all moved out onto the main floor, everyone uncaring about their fancy attire.

Sunday wasn’t a huge pull for people, but there was enough noise and camaraderie, especially when patrons discovered Gold was picking up their checks in celebration of Emma’s and Neal’s nuptials. They were even offered a piece of cake, for as long as it lasted.

Belle sipped her water, watching Gold as he fiddled with his ring at his end of the bar. He was stiff, nursing a glass of whiskey, but had a handshake and a ready smile for anyone who came up to thank him for the free food and drinks.

She slowly made her way towards him, moving down a chair every so often. They both pretended that he wasn’t watching her get closer and closer.

Finally, all too soon, she was sitting next to him, staring into her drink. He watched the hockey game that was playing on the TV overhead, but she would bet the running tab he had that he wasn’t absorbing a bit of it.

“Did Emma choose this place just to annoy you?” she asked.

He looked at her in surprise, but Belle just shrugged. “You can’t tell me you’re comfortable.”

“This is where they met,” he said, after a moment. “They really didn’t care where it happened. I more or less called her bluff, I think.”

“Oh.”

They watched as a player took a shot. He missed.

“Jefferson and I aren’t together,” Belle said. “Never have been. We’re just friends.”

She felt him turn his gaze to her, but she kept her eyes on the screen. “We didn’t mean to mislead you. I’m sorry that happened.”

He looked down into his whiskey glass. “I see.”

She wondered if he missed his long hair; there wasn’t anything for him to hide behind anymore.

“I’m sorry I left,” she blurted.

His eyes flickered to hers, and she saw his lip twitch. He was desperately trying to keep his poker face.

“Are you?”

“My father died.” She gripped her water glass, the cold condensation wetting her skin. “There was a car accident, and he was just gone once day, and. It was too small, suddenly. Boston, my apartment. I felt claustrophobic and small, and I just...needed to leave, and…”

“So you did,” he finished quietly.

“So I did.” She swallowed back the tears threatening. “My lease was up, the semester had just ended at the college, so the library had cut my hours. The only thing really keeping me here was you. I kept telling myself that it was only sex, that it didn’t matter if I left. And then you didn’t even call, and I managed to convince myself that’s what you thought too. That I was right.”

“I’m sorry about your father.”

“Yeah,” she sucked in a breath. She let go of her glass, wiping her wet hand on her dress. “I…yeah. That’s no excuse though. I’m sorry I did that.”

He looked at her, eyes golden brown in the light of the bar. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and not let go this time.

“How long are you in town?”

“I don’t know.”

He grimaced. Gold opened his mouth to say something when he was interrupted by loud cheers from the other end of the bar. Neal had just dipped Emma, kissing her soundly as their audience clapped.

Belle felt her color rise. This was an inappropriate time to try to have this conversation. “I should let you enjoy the rest of the wedding,” she said. “It was a beautiful ceremony.”

Just as Belle was slipping away, his hand caught her wrist, pulling her back.

“Come to my shop tomorrow,” he said. “We can… we’ll talk there.”

Belle kissed him, just on the corner of his mouth. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she promised.

The shop hadn’t changed. There was the sign that hung above the door, large and old. Almost outdated, if it didn’t compliment the rustic brick building, and every other building on the block.

Belle stood on the sidewalk, counting the items she recognized in the display cases (she kept telling him to rotate stock out, but he never did. Maybe they could do it together. It was a good thought, she decided).

It was early, but the sun was bright. She tugged awkwardly on her sundress, wondering if he’d be in, or if she’d have to come back. She didn’t want to put this off longer than she already had, nor give him the impression she had disappeared again.

If this was going to work, she couldn’t shut him out. They’d move forward, together.

She took a deep breath. Belle pushed the door open, relieved that it was unlocked. With the bell twinkling above her, she stepped inside.

[choiceswreckedme]

Three Dresses

Book: Love Hacks - I’m replaying these and it’s got me in a mood.

Pairing: Mark Collins x MC (Cori Larson)

Rating: G

Summary: Cori can’t decide on a dress to wear for Mark’s company party, and Mark reminds her why it doesn’t really matter.

Note: PB owns Mark Collins and MC; I’m just expanding their world a little.

_________________________________________________________

“Argh!” Cori Larson cried, staring at herself in the full-length mirror. The navy blue dress she wore draped beautifully across her lithe frame, showing just enough skin to still be demure. Her toned arms, tanned from the summer sun, were showcased by cap sleeves, and a full-length skirt fell perfectly from her slim hips. She hated it.

“Mark!” she yelled from their bedroom, gathering her skirt in her hand and plodding in her socked feet to where her boyfriend Mark Collins sat watching a Giants game in the living room. She stopped in front of him with a huff, letting the satin swish down to the floor and cutting off his view of the screen. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his glance traveling appreciatively over his gorgeous girlfriend. He may have been missing the Giants’ at-bat, but at least the scenery was worth it.

“This dress. I hate it.”

“So why are you wearing it?”

Cori rolled her eyes and huffed impatiently. “Because I need your opinion on it. Should I wear it tonight? How does it look?” She twisted to the side, smoothing a hand down her flat stomach and scowling at the offending garment. Mark watched her carefully; he knew that his next words were crucial to his well-being.

“You look beautiful, Cor, you know I always think you do.”

Mark reached out to grasp the hand dangling at her side, squeezing it gently. “But if you don’t like this dress, you should change.” Cori smiled at him as she turned and breezed back to their bedroom. “Thanks, Sweetie, I think I’ll try that new green dress I bought last week!” Sweeping into the room she tugged the blue dress off and threw it across the bed. That one wouldn’t be seeing the light of day any time soon.

“Where are you . . . ,” Cori muttered, flipping through the hangers in an attempt to find said green dress. “Ah! There!” Pulling it out, she shimmied into the short frock, admiring the way the fabric swished around her thighs. With it’s short, flared skirt and lace-trimmed bodice, it was a fun little number that Cori had picked up on a whim last week when she’d been shopping with Brooke. The deep, forest green made her normally-blue eyes skew a light emerald color and offset her thick, chestnut hair perfectly. Cori twirled around in front of the mirror to check it from all sides. “Oh, this is cute,” she murmured, “and it’s super fun.” She paused, her lips screwing into a frown. Maybe it was too fun for a work party.

Shuffling back into the living room, Cori resumed her stance in front of Mark, who was now intently watching the Giants as they attempted to get out of a bases-loaded situation in the bottom of the eighth, with the score tied 3-3. His eyes flickered up to Cori, then back to the TV in an attempt to see the pitch. “That one looks amazing, Cor,” he said, eyes glued to the pitcher winding up. “Wear that one, I like it. Yes!” Mark pumped his fist as the Giants defense made a 6-4-3 double play to end the inning. He reached over to grab the bottle of beer sitting on the end table (Cori was taking forever; he’d been ready half an hour ago and he was thought a little pre-game drink wouldn’t hurt), taking a swig before he realized Cori was still standing before him, arms crossed over her chest. He looked at her with raised eyebrows. “Uhhh . . . you good?”

“No I’m not good!” Cori wailed, sinking down on the couch next to Mark in a swirl of verdant material and peony perfume. “I’m trying to look amazing for your party tonight and you don’t even care.” The crossed arms made a reappearance as she glared at Mark. He sighed softly, careful to not let her hear, and reached out a hand to gently grasp her bare knee. Rubbing his thumb softly against the smooth skin, Mark reassured Cori.

“Babe, I told you I liked it. I think you’re gorgeous,” he leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. “And wonderful.” A kiss on the nose. “And I love you,” he finished, gently kissing Cori’s pout. She sighed softly against his lips and flopped back against the cushions. “I just know it’s a big night for you, a fancy party with your whole team there, and your new promotion, and I want to look perfect. I don’t want to embarrass you.” She let her head loll against the back of the couch and faced Mark. He shook his head at her, a soft smile spreading across his face.

“Cori Larson, you could never, ever, embarrass me.” She raised her eyebrows. “Okay, maybe if you’ve had three beers and two shots and karaoke ‘My Heart Will Go On,’” he conceded, “but definitely not because of a dress. You look amazing, no matter what you’re wearing.” Mark stood and offered Cori his hand. “So. You ready to head out?”

Shaking her head, Cori rose and headed back down the hallway; Mark couldn’t stifle the groan that escaped his throat as he flopped back down on the sofa. “Cori! Come on, you look great!”

“One more!” she called back. “I promise!”

Mark picked up his beer and drained the bottle, hoping that Cori would settle on something soon. He would never understand women. All that work when they could just throw on jeans and a t-shirt and look freaking beautiful. And Cori? Mark smiled to himself, thinking of his girlfriend in the other room. Cori could wake up from a three-day bender and cover herself in a dirty bedsheet and she would still be the most stunning thing he’d ever laid eyes on. He sighed, his stomach clenching in anticipation as he thought of the small, black, velvet box in the back of his sock drawer. It was going to happen soon; her birthday, maybe, or the anniversary of the day they met at college. Whenever it was, Mark knew he would be the luckiest man in the world when Cori agreed to marry him.

“Okay, I think this one is alright. What do you think?” Cori swept into the room, jolting Mark from his reverie. His mouth went dry and his heart sped up at the sight of the woman before him. This dress, number three, was stunning. Deep garnet, the dress was made of delicate lace, hugging Cori’s body in all the right places. The lining of the dress covered the crucial parts, leaving her glowing skin peeking through the material. With its long sleeves and high neckline, the dress was the perfect combination of classy and sexy, and the flare at the bottom added just enough style. Cori had twisted her locks into a purposely-messy bun, a few tendrils escaping to frame her heart-shaped face, and her makeup was subtle yet sophisticated. Mark was breathless.

“You don’t like it?” Cori asked, crestfallen. She took a step back and Mark reached out, grabbing her wrist. “Cori, my god, you look beautiful,” he said honestly. He pulled her into him, his large hands coming up to cup her face gently. She smiled up at him, her eyes glittering with happiness.

Mark led her over to a table where Cori had placed candid photos of their friends and family, picking up a small silver frame and handing it to her. The picture inside was of the two of them back in college, taken just after they’d completed a mud run on campus. Their smiles were contagious, pure joy reflecting from their faces. Cori grinned straight at the lens, while Mark was caught in profile, his gaze focused on the young woman beside him. When they’d moved in together, Mark had insisted on setting the picture out, even though Cori had put up a fight. “I look awful!” she’d exclaimed. But Mark had gotten his way, and every time he looked at it he was reminded of how much he loved her, as much back then as he did now, and how far they’d come throughout the years.

“Please tell me I don’t look like I did that day,” Cori laughed, staring down at their younger selves. She shook her head and set the frame back down in its spot on the table. “You know I hate the way I look in that picture.” Mark turned her to face him, brushing his fingertips over her cheek and smiling down at her.

“When I look at that picture of us, all I notice is how beautiful you are. I don’t see the mud and the sweat, or the ponytail, or whatever it is you see, Cor,” Mark said truthfully. “Every time I look at you, no matter what you’re wearing, or if you have makeup on, or your hair isn’t washed, all I can see is you, and you are absolutely gorgeous.” He stared into Cori’s eyes, willing her to believe just how amazing he thought she was. “So, in that blue dress, or the green one, or this one, or a muddy t-shirt, I’m always gonna think you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Eyes glistening with tears, Cori grinned up at Mark, unable to believe that this wonderful man was actually hers. “Don’t make me cry, Collins. I can’t mess up my makeup,” she laughed, carefully swiping a finger under both eyes. She grasped Mark’s hand in hers, running her thumb over his knuckles. “Thank you, so much, Sweetie. I know I freak out about stupid, little things and I really appreciate you putting up with me. It’s nice to know no matter what I wear, you’ll still love me.” Cori crossed the room to grab a small clutch that she’d placed on the arm of the sofa and turned to face him. “Ready?”

Mark smiled softly and went to her, placing a hand on her lower back and guiding them to the door, anticipating spending tonight and, soon, the rest of their lives together. “As long as you’re beside me, Cor, I’m ready for anything.”