#I really wanna see her in some more brunette wigs

[rosaline-kei]

Oh my god that yandere armin x mikasa fanfic was sooooo good. Reading that really brightened up my day thank you for taking my request! I realllyy can't wait for part 2!!!!!!!!!

Disclaimer: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin / Attack on Titan nor its characters.

Title: Yandere

parts: 2/2

Synopsis:  Unknown to everyone but his victims, there’s a side to Armin that he dedicates to protecting his beloved.

Requested By: @bobfregmegler

If it's ok may i request a yandere!armin x mikasa fanfic set in the aot world? If that's comfortable for you of course.. I loved your fanfic, Bared and I am in desperate need of some arumika content.

Rated: T / M (I’m not that sure; but it’s a fanfic about yandere so there’s that. Read it at your own risk. I might finalize the overall rating depending on the second part.)

Pairings: Armin Arlert / Mikasa Ackerman

Read it also on / Please Leave a Review at: my Ao3 / FF net (might post there soon.)

A/N: Thank you for liking it! Here’s the second and final part. I hope you’ll enjoy it <3. There’s a slight twist at the end?? Sorta. It’s up to your personal interpretation.

-

Mikasa could handle her own, Armin knew. Alongside her striking beauty, was her prowess in pure, physical strength. But, that didn’t mean Armin should lower his guard.

It didn’t mean he shouldn’t protect her.

Scanning the crowded room, it didn’t take him long to spot them. Not when the herd of uncivilised barbarians stuck out like a sore thumb, with their yapping and hollering; their disruptive noises that dared ruin his serenity.

They were sitting together, and aside from all the chaos that erupted from their mouths, reverberating about, they were enjoying the sight of voluptuous women putting on a performance in front of them while wolfing down their bottles of beer. The next thing Armin knew, he was eavesdropping.

“What a show!” One of them exclaimed enthusiastically before clapping, “Too bad it wasn’t that oriental lady! Ahh! What a waste, I tell ya!” Armin tensed, his hand diving into the secret compartment of his jacket, searching impatiently for his dagger.

Wait, no… Control. He reminded, hand abruptly halting in its search. Upright killing them in this crowd is silly… and luring them out might take too long… I don’t want to keep Mikasa waiting. He considered. That only leaves one other option…

“Do yer’ think we can get a grab of her? I saw her enter that motel nearby…” His friend hiccupped, taking another swig of alcohol. Cheeks flustering; not because of the alcohol, though. Armin felt his stomach twist. “Her friend looks like a puny piece of shit anyway…” A smirk decorated the blonde’s expression.

“Ha! Why not?” He smirked deviously, “You don’t see Orientals these days… and can yer’ get us a little more alcohol pal? The encore’s gonna start! And then after… I’ll gather the boys and…” The revolting, impure look said it all, and that was enough eavesdropping for Armin, who felt his patience and control thinning; the taut thread waiting to just… snap!

I’ll kill you. He swallowed, eying his prey that departed from the pack, staggering towards the counter, bargaining with the bartender for another few bottles. He waited, as much as it pained him, he waited, for the right moment. To make the right move.

Luck seemed to be on his side, given how his doltish and stupid prey appeared to be distracted, his attention being directed towards a pig-tailed brunette who revealed a little too much. Watching his mouth water as he slid himself toward the brunette infuriated Armin; did he think about Mikasa like that, too? His Mikasa?

Control. Control. Armin, you can’t let loose, yet. He reprimanded himself, shaking his head, recalibrating himself. Before he knew it, the ugly drunkard and the lady got themselves entangled, swaying back into the crowd.

Perfect.

“OI!” The bartender yelled at the man, who clearly forgotten his order. “YOUR DRI—”

“I’ll deliver it to them!” Armin exclaimed in an awfully high-pitched tone, eyes fluttering as he emerged from the shadows, twirling his way in front of the bartender who looked at the blonde questioningly. “Oh, come on, I don’t wanna keep them waiting! I want to impress them!” He had his lips pouted out, arms crossed, internally praying he’d buy this gimmick. If he could pass off as Historia with a wig and a skirt, this shouldn’t be that much of an issue. Besides, based on his intuition and gut, this particular bartender didn’t seem like the sharpest man out there; he appeared to be more flippant and frivolous.

“Whatever… I’ve seen too much shit, and I’m not paid enough.” He waved his hand dismissively at Armin, evidently fed-up with whatever he had going on in his life. Not that Armin cared though. He was just grateful that his intuition was right.

“Thank youuuu!” He squeaked, smiling all too brightly, before carrying the tray of beers away.

To a secluded corner, where the edges of his smile sunk, grimly settling into a frown

Quietly, he removed a vial containing a form of floral poison he had extracted from a flower not too long ago. It was back when they resided in the woods with the rest of the squad, when he accompanied Mikasa one day to gather wood.

“Careful!” She warned when the blonde nearly trampled on a patch of violet blossoms. “Those are poisonous…” She explained, before rambling on about how her late mother once told her how these killer flowers were commonly mistaken for another more innocent breed, and how it would irritate your skin, possibly leaving long-lasting scars if you got too close to it. “Poisonous, huh?” Armin said, intrigued. How… useful. He didn’t say that out-loud. And it didn’t take Armin long to find out the effects of consuming such a deadly little thing. (How he found out, Armin didn’t have the time to recall his experimentation).

Cautiously, he dripped the deadly liquid into each of the beer mugs, letting it swim and camouflage in the yellow drink, staying hidden, awaiting to strike when indulged. Luckily I brought this along… You never know what trespassers you’ll meet. He noted to himself, eying the idiotic bunch.

Taking a deep breath, he continued with his performance.

“Heeeyyyy sirs!” Armin chirped as he skipped his way to the hooligans, wearing a cheeky smile as he set the venomous tray down.

He watched as their eyes watched him carefully, and as he had anticipated, they were too intoxicated to even remember who he was, or the fact that he wasn’t a woman. “Ehhh? What happened to t—”

“Ah, who cares? That bastard’s probably humped himself elsewhere. Tsk!” The man spat, unconcerned with the disappearance of his other friend. “Besidesss,” He droned out, shooting an inappropriate look towards Armin’s direction, licking his lips ravenously. “We got a flat babe here to fool with before we chase the Oriental… c’mon, join us—”

“You should drink first!” Armin insisted, arms and legs both crossed as he continued, “I wanna go wear my specciiaaalll bunny costume for you… delightful men…and maybe get a couple of my friend to join, after all, you guys seem like charming folk!” He persuaded, a slight whine echoing towards the end of his statement.

“Bunny costume eh?” He watched as their face twisted into something nauseating as they let their fantasies run wild.

Disgusting. Impure.—Those were words Armin associated with people like them; people that dared cross that line. Fortunately for him, they’d never have the chance to inflict those fantasies on Mikasa. Not after this.

“Be right back!” He giggled, stepping back into the crowd as they raised their jugs, exclaiming eagerly that they have scored one, before chugging all of it down.

“Drunkard fools.” He uttered under his breath, his giggling and cheerful appearance alike coming to a halt, replaced by a cruel yet excited look. Alas, Armin began the countdown.

10.

He watched as they continued chattering amongst themselves, full of corrupted exhilaration as they waited for Armin to supposedly return with toys and goods for them to exploit.

9, 8.

He watched them starting to shift uncomfortably, something itched.

7,6.

Something was set ablaze in their throats, they first shrugged it off as the burning aftermath of alcohol at 7, but at 6, they started to drown themselves with beer, then water in hopes of extinguishing whatever was burning.

5,4.

Then, the world spun before darkness enveloped some of them. The others who were still stubbornly fighting against the flame, refusing to surrender to their abrupt fate, dropped to the ground, one by one, choking. No one paid too much attention, having either assumed they drank one too many bottles or were too engrossed with the music; with their dance to debauchery.

3.

They gasped for air. Pathetically, helplessly. Armin watched with elatedness, although he was a little disappointed with himself that he had given them a quick and easy death. If he hadn’t promised Mikasa that he was to be back within forty-five minutes, perhaps blood would’ve been spilled. Perhaps he’d have something else schemed, to drag out their death, to make it excruciating. Ahhh! What a missed opportunity! He couldn’t help but think as he bit his lip, watching their deaths unfold.

2.

Everything became numb, from their flesh right to their bones. Everything became limp; everything, all their nerves started to relax itself—settling them down into an ugly afterlife or hell. That was what they deserve.

1.

Death washed them over, stilling them completely. P-e-r-f-e-c-t. Armin hummed, pleased by the results. Turning away, he snuck his way to the back-exit before anyone could notice that they were, in all actuality, dead.

I can’t believe I had to use that high-pitched tone… ahhhh! How embarrassing! Not to mention, I still have to buy bread... what a troublesome day! He huffed calmly, taking a glance at his watch. I have eighteen minutes left… geez, time flies too fast…Ah! I should get some bread for Mikasa too! He smiled, rubbing the hand that Mikasa touched, feeling and embracing her lingering warmth. I should hurry…

He wanted to see her, quickly. To gaze at her undying beauty, inhale the sweet scene her entire being emanated, perhaps to even embrace her… to lay next to her—if Mikasa’s offer was still on the table; he wouldn’t force anything on her.

Never.

“Ah… I wonder if they have the bread Mikasa likes—”

Having been too engrossed in his thoughts about the raven, he had failed to pick-up the approaching, threatening steps that headed towards his direction; failed to be aware of his surroundings.

He had carelessly fallen prey, his words cut off when a bloody barbarian shoved him against the wall face-front, gripping both his hands.

“Y-YOU…! YOU MURDERED THEM RIGHT?!”

Ah, right. Him.

It wasn’t Armin’s intention to keep him alive out of his own good heart, he thought it’d be humorous to let him be the only one living while his other friends died. It was wicked, sure. But in his mind, it was his own fault for being so careless to leave the drinks right there, in his reach—and maybe Armin would’ve sincerely thanked him for that, if he hadn’t touched that hand.

“I…I saw you serving them that fucking shit!”

His grip was wavering, trembling. Armin couldn’t tell if it was due to some form of developing trauma eating him up, or the fact that he was still drunk. Either way, that wasn’t his primary concern at the moment.

“I…I will kill y—”

“…ouched…th… and…at…he…” Armin’s words were at first inarticulate, as he tried to comprehend the sin that this man had just commit.

How dare he.

“H-Huh?!—”

Interrupted by a successful kick to his groin thanks to his incompetency of securing his entire body properly, Armin threw him on the ground, his feet crushing his face. “How… dare… you…” His voice started out low as he squatted down, glaring daggers at him while his right hand searched for one of his own.

“W-W—”

“How…dare you touch this hand?” He lifted up his left hand, while his right snatched out a dagger that had been waiting in a hidden compartment of his attire. “You know…? Don’t you know…? I knew you barbarians were idiots but I didn’t expect you to be this stupid… This… This was the hand that she touched… and you—” He pointed the dagger right at his throat, tracing it round and round, finding some amusement as he watched his hunter-turn-prey’s eyes follow the knife, evidently terrified.

“…And you fucking contaminated it.” He cursed, head tilting in this flummoxing being right in front of him. He couldn’t understand nor comprehend how someone could be this impolite, this inconsiderate. Even Captain Levi—who had once lived in this place—never did something so offensive!

“I…I… Y…You’re a sick bastard!” The man choked out; and before he could even have the chance to struggle, the dagger pierced right through his throat.

Armin watched the life drain from his eyes. “Sick bastard…me? But what about you?” He said in an accusatory tone, dragging out the plunged dagger, trailing it around his eyeballs, paying no mind to the blood that spewed out. “I saw that look… you know? The look you and your low-lives gave her... and I heard… what you planned to do to her and oh… did that ticked me off.” He said, an eerie chuckle following after as he aimed the tip of the dagger at the lower end of his eye, tempted to dig it out, and perhaps hang it as ornaments somewhere far away; where that look wouldn’t reach Mikasa.

But alas, he didn’t have the time. There was still the bread.

“Ahhh, I’m going to be late!” He groaned as he stood up, patting off any dirt or dust that stained his clothes; he’d have to deal with the blood later. Albeit, he was careful enough not to let it stain too much on his clothes. “Maybe in your next life, you could be a little more considerate of wasting people’s time… honestly, was seeing your dead friends not enough? Ah! Or you could rot in hell! That way you won’t bother this ‘puny little shit’ anymore… right? Right? Hah!” Armin shook his head, taking one last laugh at his idiocy before strolling off, unbothered to clear the mess. It was the underground after all; decomposing bodies and murders weren’t a rarity. And right now, he doubted the military police would even bother with an investigation, given the corruptness of the system, and the trouble the corps were stirring up.

What a day.

“Hmm… I wonder if the bread shop has that bread she likes a lot…” He hummed.

-

Armin stood outside silently. He was a twist of the doorknob away from reuniting with his love.

It is unlikely Mikasa is asleep, no matter how exhausted she is. Armin calculated, and then took a glimpse at the edge of his sleeves where a faint crimson stain remained smudged. The room is dark, it has poor lighting… she won’t see this… then again, she has sharp eyes… ahh… Well, even if she does, I’ll think of a reason… I wouldn’t want to worry her. But if she’s asleep… I’ll just set the bread down and make a run to the washroom.

Taking a deep breath and grasping the packet of loaves, he entered the dimly lit room, closing the door after. “Mikasa… I got you some bread if you want to eat it, oh and it’s not that stale! Even if you’re not hungry, it could be tomorrow’s breakfast before we have to set out in search of those documents…” Armin spoke, settling the package down.

Albeit, before he could do a full scan of the room in search of the raven, he was met with a sharp pair of familiar obsidian orbs that never failed to steal his breathe away. “M-Mikas—”

“You’re… early.”

“I…I didn’t want to keep you waiting…” She’s close. Armin noted, feeling her breath brush the exposed surface of his neck; needless to say, it sent a thrill down his spine. It was difficult to contain, control. “I…Is something the matte—”

“No, No… I’m glad, you’re back safe—”

“Your wrist!” Armin gasped; withdrawing himself from his lovesickness the moment his eyes caught sight of a scar that stretched form the top of her wrist to god knows where. Did… someone come here? Did I miscount? Did I miss someone? I’m sure all of them drank the poison… and I even made sure to get rid of the last… who did it? I shouldn’t have left. I shouldn’t have—… but… who did it? Who dared to touch h—

“I was… just checking if our gear was working, and I accidentally cut myself.” Mikasa assured, “Even in the dark…” She took a step closer. “Your eyes never miss a thing, do they?” Whether it was meant to be a praise or not, Armin took it as one.

“But don’t worry, I’m fine.” She smiled, hand reaching out for his. And Armin would’ve let her. Hell, did he desire her soothing touch. Words that she can’t say, she made it up for her actions. Armin loved that about her. Just a tight squeeze of her hand on his was already overwhelming, it was heaven and earth and all of serenity. He wanted to feel it, but then he remembered it.

Panicked and instinctively, he took a step back, his hands hidden behind his back.

He won’t let her hands be contaminated too, with that filth.

“A…Armin?”

“A-Ah! No… I’m just a little dirty, that—”

“Not that.” She said, a finger pointing towards the faint smudge on his sleeve. “…Is that…--”

“Jam.”

“Jam…?—”

“The bread shop owner spilled some on me when she was taking the bread. Ahhh, it doesn’t matter now! Geez Mikasa you don’t need to be so worried.” Armin quickly brushed it off. He looked at her worried eyes. “I’m fine, I promise.” Even in the dark… he thought, admiring her eyes as his hand reached out about to caress her cheek, your eyes are sharp too—

But froze when he recalled how filthy.

“A-Ah! Sorry… I—” And then, Mikasa nuzzled herself in his palm, Armin’s eyes widened in horror. “M-Mikasa! I’m dirt—”

“It’s fine.” Armin flinched. What? “Because it’s you, it’s fine. I couldn’t care less.”

Armin felt his heart skip, race, palpitate.

He wanted to hold her longer, closer, tighter. He was obsessed. But… he couldn’t risk her noticing that that red patch, wasn’t jam.

“I-I… I’m going to take a quick shower!” He coughed, before forcefully dismissing himself.

Once he closed the door, his back hit the wall and slid down. He held the hand that had the blessing of touching her cheeks. Were they… pink? Armin couldn’t tell due to the lighting. He bit his lip. I love her. He couldn’t help but think. Suddenly, he didn’t feel so filthy anymore.

Caressing the hand, he once again savoured the warmth that was there. Never again, was he going to be so careless to let anyone stain it with their own trace of impurity.

I love her. I love her. I love her, so much. He bit his lip. Nobody’s… I’ll make sure nobody will bother you.

Nobody.

--

Mikasa heaved a heavy sigh. I wonder if that was really Jam… I can’t tell anymore, not in this dark. Not when… Her eyes glimpsed at her fresh scar, and while Armin may not notice due to his little adventure that Mikasa was unaware of, there was a faint scent of blood in the air. Not Armin’s, not the man he killed, and not—

At least he looks fine… he’s… Her cheeks blush, as her hand reached out to touch the side that Armin touched. He’s safe…

She bit her lip. I’ll make sure he’s safe.

--

A/N: Is Mikasa a Yandere too, hm? Well. I left it ambiguous! So it’s up to your personal interpretation <3

#aot #snk #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #mikasa ackerman #armin arlert #arumika #armikasa #aot fanfic #snk fanfic #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #attack on titan fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin fanfic #attack on titan fanfic #shingeki no kyojin fanfiction #my fanfic #my fanfiction

[artificialqueens]

A Vampire in Paris: Part 2 (Gigi x Crystal) - Chae

A/N: gosh this took longer to write than i thought! y'all thought i’d tease with a slow-burn? absolutely not. i not only have a romance to write, i have a conspiracy that needs to unfold (and boy do i have some drama planned for you guys heehee) anyways! enjoy part 2!

Between the brunch meetings, lunch meetings, coffee meetings, dinner meetings, and bar “meetings” that consisted of nothing but drinking, Gigi was more than happy to begin her first actual fitting.

It would be her first time in the business wing, and boy was she excited about that. Her destination was only supposed to be the third door on the second floor, but she was hoping to ‘get lost’ and possibly uncover some answers to what the hell was going on in this place.

The model awoke early, putting her hair up into her classic ponytail and dawning some basic clothes she could change out of quickly. She would probably go out after the fitting, so she put on just enough makeup to look presentable. She nearly forgot her key as she dashed out the door, heading to the mysterious wing of headquarters.

The wooden doors she was supposed to open taunted the girl as she found it almost difficult to walk through. She was supposed to be there, but it nearly felt like she wasn’t. However, Gigi was the last person to let fear and emotion get the best of her, so she pushed it all down and stepped into the next room. She was met with a hallway; plain and simple, with hardwood floors and glass doors, little nooks with couches and potted plants lining the walls. She sauntered down the stretch of building, eyeing prints on the wall of famous Fatelle models. She spotted Adore in a more recent shoot, but still, she couldn’t wrap her head around why she hadn’t seemed to have aged. Gigi also admired a photo of Violet Chachki, the world’s first ‘supermodel.’ She would’ve given anything to meet her in real life. 

Gigi was scanning a print of a gorgeous blonde model she recognized from the nineties, Pearl Liaison, when she heard a door open and shut behind her. She whipped her head around to stare face to face with Aquaria, who glared at her as she wiped something red off her lips. Gigi was immediately intimidated, even with the multiple inches she had over the other model. Naturally Aquaria was platinum blonde, but today she was wearing a long black wig with thick bangs—which didn’t really help settle Gigi’s nerves. The older model’s gaze reminded her of Raven’s cold stare, which prompted her to smile awkwardly and walk off. Unfortunately, before she had the chance to do so, Aquaria sucked in her lips and spoke.

“What are you doing back here?”

Gigi hadn’t actually realized how far down the dimly lit hall she’d strayed, only a hundred feet or so from the end. It’s only the first floor… is the crazy shit Adore was talking about here?!

“I have a fitting, and I got a bit lost,” the younger girl responded. 

“Uh huh. So, like…  you need help?”

“Mm, I think I’ll find it.”

“Liar. You’re new. I’ll show you where to go,” she sighed, rolling her eyes and walking back in the direction Gigi’d come from. She reluctantly followed Aquaria down the hall and up a flight of stairs in silence.

“These are the fitting rooms,” the supermodel finally mentioned. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Gigi nodded. Aquaria turned to walk away, but scanned Gigi’s figure before doing so.

“Do you want to go out tomorrow? With my friends and I.”

Gigi blinked in shock. “What?”

“Well, if you’re gonna be pressed about it-”

“No, no, sorry. Sounds good.”

“Nice. I’ll text you.”

“Sure. Wait, uh-” 

And before Gigi could mention that Aquaria didn’t have her number, she was gone. People were really good at disappearing in this place.

The second floor was significantly more active than the first, fitting rooms with open doors lining both ends of the hall as assistants filed in and out and in between the photo studios. Gigi found the third door, finding the rest of her team getting started. Thankfully because she’d set out so early, she was only a few minutes late. 

“Gi!” Crystal called, immediately noticing the girl’s presence. “Just the person I was waiting for!”

“Really?” Gigi blushed with a smile, dropping off her bag and walking over to Crystal. Her heart fluttered as they greeted each other with air kisses, a feeling in the pit of her stomach that she wanted to actually kiss her. 

“Duh! I have a couple things to try on you, I picked out some of my favorite pieces.”

Gigi looked at the rack of clothes, gently touching one on the end. “This is gorgeous, are you sure you want me to wear it?”

“Absolutely. I want to get you into the statement piece of the night, actually.”

“Seriously?!” Gigi’s eyes widened and she looked at the designer with a grin. She couldn’t believe Crystal was asking her to wear the biggest and most extravagant garment. She couldn’t stop herself from wrapping the older girl in a quick hug, leaving both of them flustered and hot. “Thank you! Thank you so, so much!.. and sorry, I’m not usually a hugger.”

“That’s fine, I am,” Crystal winked. “Ready to try it on?”

Gigi nodded, not really thinking as she stripped her sweater and jeans off. She’d fitted for many shoots before, and it was customary to change in front of the designers and crew to save time. The rest of the models were already at it, as well. Crystal was also accustomed to these procedures for her small shows in the past.

What they’d both forgotten is that they 110% had a thing for each other, and the realization seemed to hit the pair as Gigi stood in nothing but underwear and skin-colored pasties (bras weren’t really a thing in model-land), staring at Crystal as Crystal stared at her body. Oh, the things the designer had to do to keep herself from taking her clothes off and making out with Gigi right then and there.

“Right. Piece de resistance,” the brunette finally managed to say, grabbing her garment off the hanger. “Let’s get you dressed.”

Crystal’s fingers brushed lightly over Gigi’s skin as they worked to put the huge dress on. The theme of Crystal’s collection relied heavily on patchwork and dark, unsaturated color schemes. Gigi admired the clever work in the mirror in front of her, smiling at Crystal’s focused expression. To the model, it looked perfect, but Crystal bit her lip as she scanned the way it fit. 

“I’ll have to put some pins in and ask the seamstresses to fix it,” she mumbled, grabbing a pincushion off a nearby table. She kneeled behind Gigi and took in the waist, safety pinning it closed as Gigi realized the intended silhouette of the dress. The older girl would often make high pitched noises as she worked, uttering the words “yeah yeah yeah” every time something went her way. Gigi couldn’t ignore the feeling in the pit of her stomach as Crystal touched her through the fabric, looking down so the designer wouldn’t see her reddened cheeks. 

“Ah! Looks so good now!” Crystal squealed, admiring the look. 

Gigi glanced up in the mirror with a huge grin. “Holy shit, it’s so beautiful!”

Not as beautiful as you, Crystal smirked, putting her hands on her cheeks. “Oh my gosh, do a walk for me!”

The ginger laughed, grabbing her stilettos and doing a simple walk and turn, giving Crystal a wink. The designer couldn’t tell whether the jump in her chest was because of her vision coming together or because of the vision in front of her. 

For another two hours, the same procedure ensued with a few more looks. Looking at Gigi nearly ass-naked did not become any easier for Crystal, and having Crystal’s hands touch her all over did not become any easier for Gigi. A couple times, Crystal had to stray away and help with other models, leaving both her and Gigi sad without each other’s presence. Finally, the long day was over when Crystal wrapped up the last look to send to the seamstress and Gigi put her clothes on again.

“Jeez, you must be tired, Gi,” Crystal walked up to the other girl as she grabbed her bag.

“Yeah, a little worn out, but I’ll be okay,” the model smiled. 

“Bye lovebirds!” Jaida called, leaving the studio with Nicky and Jackie at her side. 

“What?” Gigi raised her eyebrows with a smirk. 

“Chile, don’t think we didn’t see y’all rubbing up on each other back there.”

“Rub up on yourself!” Crystal joked.

“Where are you guys headed?” Gigi asked, walking towards the group. Crystal bounced up behind her. 

“Out,” Nicky smiled. “Jaida and I are showing Jackie the best club in Paris.”

“Wanna come?” Jackie asked.

Gigi looked at Crystal, then at Jaida, who was giving her a look. 

“I’m in!” the designer agreed. Gigi nodded and followed her new friends, walking in step with Jackie and Nicky as Jaida teased Crystal. 

“So,” Nicky raised an eyebrow.

“So?” Gigi raised one back.

“Don’t bullshit me, Goode,” the Frenchwoman coaxed. “You and Crystal?”

“No! I mean-” Gigi glanced back at her crush. “I—”

“You totally like her, oh my gosh,” Jackie rolled her eyes. 

“I don’t know!” Gigi blushed. “I don’t not like her.”

“This is too cute,” Nicky nudged Jackie as she opened the doors to the lobby. At this time of day the room was busy and active, the people living and working at Fatelle getting together to prepare to go out.

Gigi spotted Plastique and Brooke talking to a large group of girls that she didn’t recognize. 

“Oh, those are the West girls!” Crystal waved at who Gigi presumed to be ‘West.’ “Nina joined Fatelle last year, and Plastique and Brooke worked for them earlier this year,” Crystal explained to Gigi and Jackie. “She was a huge mentor when I got here earlier.”

Gigi looked at the group again, admiring the pretty and diverse models. She noticed Aquaria and her friends nearby, making an effort to avoid eye contact with any of them. Trixie was near Adore at the desk, laughing with a beautiful blonde with bright red lipstick, who seemed to be wheezing at one of the smart manager’s jokes. Jan and Rock were talking near the entrance to the apartment complex. Raven was nowhere to be found, of course.

Jackie waved at Jan, whose expression lightened and she bounded over to air-kiss the five girls. Rock followed soon after with a grin. 

“What’s this gaggle of ladies up to?” the platinum blonde asked coyly. 

“You know very well we’re going drinking, Jan,” Jackie replied.

“Hm, maybe I do,” she smirked cutely. “Rock and I are coming, y’know.”

“We are?” Rock asked,

“The more the merrier,” Nicky shrugged. “If I’m not wasted by the end of the night, I blame it on all of you.”

“Hey, we have work tomorrow! And I’m like, supposed to be you guyses boss or something,” Crystal laughed, not taking herself seriously. 

The group left the building and walked a few blocks to a nearby club, led by Nicky and Jaida. There was a small line outside, and it seemed to be a gay-friendly but not-quite-a-gay bar. To the American girls’ surprise, Nicky led them to the front of the line.

“VIP!” Jan said softly to Gigi.

“Just where I belong!” the redhead joked. 

It was apparent that Jaida was blocking the group’s view from Nicky, but there was absolutely no reason why she would have to while Nicky was talking to the bouncer. Well, Gigi thought Nicky was talking to the bouncer, but she didn’t hear any actual words exchanged. Damn, were her friends acting strange now, too?!

They all made their way into the club, the music pumping loud as the dance floor was already starting to fill up. It was the evening, but not late enough that the ravers would show up. The friends decided to grab a booth to order drinks, Gigi ending up squished between Jan and Crystal. 

“Do you drink?” Gigi asked the brunette.

Crystal shrugged. “I’m not sober or anything, I just don’t drink in excess.” 

“Fuck, cause’ I have no clue what to get.”

“Just order what you normally get!”

“I don’t wanna drink a manhattan at a club, though!”

“I mean, if you wanna go for shots this early on…”

“No, no, you’re right. Oh my god, what if I ordered a beer?”

“Now that’s pretty gay,” Crystal laughed, before her face fell. “Oh sorry, I didn’t mean-”

Gigi blushed, happy to get confirmation that her love interest was in fact, not straight. “Girl, even if I look like-a zis, I’m queer as fuck. I’m allowed to act like a stereotypical lesbian for tonight.” 

“I’ll have to join you on that one,” the designer grinned. “I’m paying for the first round!” She announced to the table, garnering a whoop from the females. “But you’re on your own after that!”

A server came around and took the girls orders. Beers for Crystal and Gigi, a White Russian for Jan, a Daquiri for Rock, a Whiskey Sour for Jaida, a Martini for Jackie, and something called a ‘number 8’ for Nicky. Gigi tried to find the mystery drink on the menu above the bar, but it was absent from the list.

“What’s a ‘number 8,’ Nicky?” the girl asked across the table.

“Secret menu item, do not try it, baby.”

“You intrigue me…”

“Seriously, chile, don’t get one,” Jaida reinforced. “Unless you wanna throw up in the club bathroom, be my guest.”

“Oh, I see!” Gigi raised an eyebrow at the French model. “Miss Nicky-I-have-a-liver-of-steel-Doll.”

“It’s called alcoholism,” Nicky stated bluntly, causing the table to laugh in unison. The drinks arrived promptly, and Gigi saw that the Number 8 seemed to be a red wine type of drink. How could it possibly be as strong as the older girls said?

Crystal clinked her beer glass against Gigi’s. “To being gay!”

“To being gay,” the model laughed, taking a quick sip. She wasn’t the biggest fan of lager, but it was a tame drink for the time being.

The night went on with Gigi and Crystal making their way to the dance floor, jumping along to the music. Neither were the best dancers but they did illicit cheers when they did a duet in a dance circle. The two spent the whole night together, joining their friend group on-and-off to have their own adventures exploring the two-level club. The two went back and forth to the bar, chasing down shots with more shots whenever they got thirsty, as if the liquor would do much to quench their thirst.

They found themselves in a quiet corner of the club next to a potted plant, behind a booth. They were drunkenly chatting about who-knows-what, the normal filter they put on their words gone. Both were hyper and happy drunks, so the crackheadedness that radiated from their little area was almost palpable.

“Wait, so you woke up where?!” Gigi slurred, lightly slapping the other girls arm.

“I woke up-” Crystals speech was interrupted with a bout of giggles. “I woke up on the toilet…”

Both hollered in laugher, and Crystal, catching her breath, continued. “And my arm was elbow deep in the bowl cause’ I was hunched over it cause’ I was throwing up!”

“You put your arm in vomit?!”

“No no no no, I threw up in the sink!”

The two continued to laugh, Gigi wheezing so much she had to hang onto the shorter girl. 

“Oh em gee, lemme tell you about this one story,” Gigi started. “I was at, like, a party…  in high school and this dude went up to me like this,” she imitated a burly man walking, causing the older girl to snort. The redhead placed her hands behind her head and playfully ground her hips on Crystals, making strange grunting noises. What Gigi didn’t know was that Crystal was totally into it—minus the man-impression.

“So yeah, he did that, and he was like ‘wanna come to my place?’ And I said no, I’m into chicks!” Gigi went back to her normal self, albeit significantly closer to Crystal. “And then he— he GRABBED another random girl and said— threesome?!?!” The two cackled at the straight male stupidity, holding onto each other’s hands.

When their laughter died down, neither one of them spoke. The girls realized they were holding each other, looking each other straight in the face. In their drunken states, they were too comfortable to leave their position. 

And then Crystal did something stupid.

Or was it absolute genius?

Because Crystal smashed her face on Gigi’s, catching her lips in a passionate and alcohol fueled kiss. Gigi leaned back into it, more than satisfied to be making out with the girl she liked. Their mouths tasted like vodka and lime and they wasted no time sucking on each other’s tongues, moving their jaws sloppily and widely. Gigi buried her hands in the older girl’s curls, while Crystal snaked hers around the models waist and onto her backside. 

Gigi gently backed the other girl onto the nearby wall, leaving her lips to gently suck on her jawline, sparkly lipgloss all over each other’s mouths. Crystal lightly whimpered as the younger girl moved to her neck and collarbone, marking her so that she’d have to use makeup to cover it up in the morning. Then, Gigi returned to Crystal’s lips, the designer holding the model’s face in her hands as she bit Gigi’s lower lip. Their teeth crashed together as they lost sight of the club around them, continuing to make out in their little corner until they heard a distinct French accent shouting at them that it was 2 AM and they had to go.

They held hands all the way back to Fatelle, and they knew they’d sobered up when they gave each other a good-bye peck.

#rpdr fanfiction #gigi goode #crystal methyd #jaida essence hall #nicky doll #jackie cox #jan sport #rock m sakura #crygi #lesbian au #supernatural au #fluff #a vampire in paris #chae #s12 #concrit welcome #submission

[monochromemedic]

Little Christmas thingy

Fallon’s eyes shifted from behind his frosted shades, his gaze hanging on the casual clothes adorning his best friend’s body. You’d think someone dressed in some jeans and a sweater for a Christmas weekend would be... comforting but it was like a final nail in the coffin of unease that was enveloping the man. Why couldn’t he just wear a damn suit like always? Dom looked own at Fallon, how haggard he looked, unhinged. He hadn’t shaved in days, his pale skin donning a greasy sheen that reminded Dom of a hormonal teenager. His small frame was covered in thick coats and a hoodie, but even so the way he slouched made him look miniscule.  “Thank you for coming... by the way. I know you’d probably be anywhere else then your roommate’s parent’s home but, I think it really might help. Especially for Christmas. I couldn’t leave you home in good faith.” “Why, you think I’m gonna pull something?” Fallon scoffed, face turning away from Dom as he rang the doorbell, a harmonious charm echoing in the night air. “What? No, I was just thinking... t-the whole holiday thing, are you?” Dom asked, his voice raising in concern. “Huh? What, no I was just gonna get alcohol poisoning if anything!” Fallon whined, hands slipping out of his jacket pockets to accentuate his sentence. “I’m not some prick that would leave a dead body lying around for someone else to pick up. I’m an ass but I ain’t that much of an ass-” “Jesus Christ, I really hope this is one of your dark jokes-” “It is! It is!” Fallon groaned, his entire demeanor shrinking as the front door opened, his bangs hiding his face as an older woman stepped forth. The woman was short and round in frame, her hair almost white shade of blonde that loosely fell against her shoulders. Her eyes were a deep blue that shine a kindness that she didn’t seem accustomed fully to, like a sudden realization that she truly was happy in life and had to remind herself of that every morning. “Dominic... It’s so good to see you sweetie.” She cooed as Dom  leaned down, embracing his mother in his arms. “Hi Momma, are Cassie and Audie already here?” “Of course, they’re in the kitchen trying to pick at the snacks. But don’t be rude, introduce me to your friend here.” “Mom... this is Fallon. Fallon this is my... mom or I guess-” “Grace. Please, call me Grace.” She interrupted, holding her small hand out towards the lanky man. Fallon eyes darted over her gesture, sheepishly wrapping his boney, cold hand over hers.  “Don’t worry, Dominic isn’t one to gossip about people. He’s always said the nicest things about you dear. When we heard he was bringing you over on such short notice, I was a bit surprised. He never brings ANYONE over for the holidays so I knew you had to be someone special!” Her face fell for a moment, a deep solemn expression as her fingers held his hand closer to her. “Don’t worry honey, we’ll be on our best behavior.” Fallon shirked away, nervously rubbing the back of his neck as Grace let them into the house, Dominic already shedding his jacket and shoes at the door. “Princey can you show Fallon around the place, I need to take care of the food.” Grace called out, entering some distant room of the house to start a playful conversation with some unknown person. Fallon raised an eyebrow, trying to find a hook to hang his jacket on the cluttered coatrack.  “Princey?” Dom sighed, cheeks red as he looked around the house, observing for any changes in the decor. “Ah, that’s my... nickname. The whole King last name... I was her little Prince.” “Adorable, I think I’m gonna go throw up now if you don’t mind.” “Very funny.” He grumbled, lightly pinching Fallon’s ear to playfully drag him room to room. “If you start opening your mouth however, you’re gonna earn a slew of new nicknames yourself. The girls are ruthless... not in the mean way it’s all loving. Hopefully.” Fallon’s feet dragged as he was chauffeured to the living room, the long abandoned bedrooms, bathrooms and eventually the kitchen to where the action seemed to be focused on. Grace was bent over the stove, tending to something cooking in a pot that Fallon couldn’t identify while two women drank and laughed while eating crackers and cheese that was laid before them. One of the sisters had long beautiful blonde hair, dimples prominent on her sharp cheekbones. The other had shorter, dark brown hair, a pair of stylish glasses accentuating her soft features. “Oh wow, he really does have mint green hair!” The brunette chimed out before covering her mouth, walking straight past Dom’s open arms to greet Fallon. “God, I am so sorry, I just... Dom always talks about you says talks about your hair and I always thought it’d be less saturated but god! I’m Audrey by the way, youngest.” Dom’s open arms fell with a sigh as the blonde, presumably Cassie stepped up to him, muttering something softly before embracing him.  “I’m heartbroken Audie, haven’t seen you in a whole year and you walk right past me for the new guy!” Dominic whined only to get a middle finger in return, earning a loud exaggerated gasp of disbelief. “I’ve had to live with you for 18 years, I don’t gotta pay attention to you.” Her attention turned back to Fallon, swirling the eggnog in her glass. “You want a drink? I can spike your nog, makes things ten times more bearable.” “Uh no I-... ya know what sure.” He grumbled, watching as Dom began to converse with the other two women, his being swatted by his mother as tried to steal some of the meal she was preparing. “Wait! That’s what the crackers and veggies are for.” “I’m a growing boy, I need some substance-” “You don’t need anymore! Now you friend-” “Momma...” He groaned, his voice playful but warning her to be careful with her words. “Isn’t it my god given right as-as a maternal figure to over feed any child I see? Isn’t that what I’m here for?” She complained, swatting Dom’s hand again as he tried to dart his hand in while she monologued. He burst into laughter as she caught him again, turning to grab a drink from the fridge in shame. Is this what families did now adays? Good families? Ones with siblings and a parent that didn’t think you were a burden? Fallon had to admit he didn’t fully understand it but the way Dom seemed to brighten up around the others... well who couldn’t be envious of that? Fallon’s thoughts were interrupted by Audrey shoving a drink into his hands, his head turning to meet her face. “I put like a shot worth of rum in there, don’t worry I got you.” She winked, taking a big chug of her own. “Jesus! Did I make that bad of a first impression already that you wanna see me bent over a toilet?” Fallon exclaimed, swirling the thick liquid in the glass, eyes widening even further. “This is like half nog, half shot!” “Look you either take the drink and chill out a bit or you get to wallow in that big rain cloud over your head like the sad sap you are.” Fallon looked at her incredulously, not expecting anything like that from someone who shared a cent of DNA with Dom. He had to respect that. He took a large wig of the concoction, face twisting at how thick the drink really was. “Ay, that a boy, puts down drinks like a champ!” She exclaimed, patting Fallon’s back so hard he lurched forward in surprise. “Audrey be nice.” Cassandra warned “I am! I made the guy a drink, I’m slapping him on the back like the BOYS do ya know BOYS... I’m connecting!”  “You’re breaking him.” “No, No you’d be surprised at how sturdy I can really be. I just think a little nog is making it’s way back into my nasal cavity.” He coughed, face scrunching as he tried to regain his breath. “Hot.” Audrey interjected, earning a look from Cassie.

#never gonna finish this just wanted to get some idea out #fallon's tag #dom's tag #my ocs

[katelides]

Walking on sunshine - Bechloe Mini Fic pt 7

I realize I have not posted in a very very long time... and I am sorry... I am posting 2 chapters for this mini fic today and I am working on the next one as we speak! So I am getting back out there!!

Chapter 7: It must have been love

The girls are all getting dressed with an 80s playlist blaring in the background, getting them all in the mood. Leave it to Maddie to decide that a themed hen night is what she wants. Everyone is dressing up in vintage clothes, and tuning their hair and makeup into the selected time.

They are all having a ton of fun, messing with each other while helping simultaneously. All the girls have their own costume they are picking. Or a certain style. Aubrey and Stacy had decided to take on a prep school look with Sperry Top-Siders, to show off intelligence yet still looking sexy as hell.

Fat Amy, Maddie and Chloe had each decided on a specific outfit that resembles Cindy Lauper in some way.  Maddie even going as far as putting on a blonde wig. This only because when they were younger, they were obsessed with her hit song ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’. A motto at least 2 have lived by since.  Chloe just loved the song but couldn’t decide whether this was something she wanted to be remembered by for the rest of her life, and still isn’t.

Titziana, who is joining the gang, is sporting pooled up cringed hair. Wearing a black dress and a jean jacket on top. Showing off just enough cleavage to attract the other gender for sure. Emily, on the other hand, is wearing high-waisted jeans and a Coca Cola crop top sweater, and having her hair curled perfectly.

The girls all make it to the club around 10 PM and instantly pull each other towards the bar to take some shots. Maddie is the first one to semi reluctantly pour one down while the rest cheers her on. Shortly after the other girls, minus Emily, since she’s pretending to be pregnant for Maddie, and can’t drink.

The DJ watches the girls go loose and spots their outfits and instantly turns up the volume and blasting Fat Amy, Chloe and Maddie’s all-time favourite through the speakers. The girls go wild and head over to the dance floor, to dance until their hearts are beating like crazy. Flirting and just being free from everything. The wedding, lies, and everything that is attached to what has occurred in the past few days.

At the club, Fat Amy and Aubrey had prepared a little surprise for everyone. They had hired some strippers. Both male a female, to spice up the evening. Maddie is really put on the spot but loves every second of it. How could she not? She has two sexy firemen grinding in her lap while three real-life pilots are already being pulled aside by Back at the club, Chloe is watching her sister getting handsy with the strippers, laughing her heart out, trying to remember everything for the following day. But deep inside she knows that she should not be here, not at the club, nor in Puglia and especially not at the wedding tomorrow. She can’t do it to herself, nor to her sister. She can’t keep pretending that everything is fine when it’s not.

Chloe manages to sneak out of the club, to grab some fresh air and think things over. She wouldn’t be able to forgive herself if she would have made an irrational decision without really thinking about it. She needs to put all her feelings into a neat line. Not just for her own sake.

Meanwhile, Beca, Jesse, Mike and Benji are having a blast, walking around town in their own 80s themed costumes. Beca having chosen a simple outfit, black jeans with a white shirt, topping it off with an army band jacket. Jesse is covering his musical movie tracks and wearing a white shirt with a leather jacket and high jeans with aviator sunglasses. Mikey is keeping it cool with his hair smoothly gelled backwards and a white button-up shirt. Benji is casually wearing a coloured polo shirt tucked into his jeans.

The four of them are cruising around town, from bar to bar. Enjoying Beca’s last night as a free woman together. Eventually, they stumble into a strip club, well slightly pulling Beca towards one, not giving her a chance to change her mind or even protest.

Beca is pushed into a chair, handed over another drink and gets a brunette shoved into her lap. If it wasn’t for her wedding the following day and her still raging feelings for her fiancee’s sister. She would be at least enjoying it. Right now though, she can’t seem to let go and just sits there with a forced smile, waiting for everything to be over. The night, and especially the wedding.

She quickly excuses herself from her chair and tells her brother that she needs some air after all the alcohol she has consumed. She heads out and sits down at the edge of a fountain, just taking her time to think. Her mind keeps playing back the memories of 3 years ago, and the memories of earlier that day. Could Chloes really not feel anything for her? Did she ever, really?

Beca has been sitting outside for about 30 minutes when Jesse stumbles towards her in a slightly inebriated state. Knowing that his little sister needs some guidance or at least support. He remembers how heartbroken she was when Chloe left and how Beca had not dated for over a year after that. He was there, every night when she cried, or more to say she pretended not to cry but he knew better.

“Hey, you all right?” Jesse asks, his voice filled with concern, and slightly slurred speech.

Beca rolls her eyes and watches her brother sit down. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She says once she knows the almost drunken mess next to her is ok. The brunette looks away, her mind yet again consumed by a bright flash of red.

“What’s up Becs?” Jesse asks. Not actually receiving more than a hum from his little sister as an answer.

It takes Beca a second to really clear her thoughts before she speaks up. “Just can’t wait for the wedding to be over.” She says with a sigh. “Just wanna be married already.” That was no lie. Once the wedding is over, she can be happy with Maddie. Maybe even manage to not see Chloe ever again.

Jesse grunts at his sisters' words. “You got a whole lifetime of that, sorellina (little sister).

Rolling her eyes, Beca mumbles a quick. “I know.”

“Enjoy your last night of liberty.” Jesse gently punches Beca on her should and tries to urge her to get up. “Come on!” Falling into an uncomfortable silence, seeing his sister really grind her thoughts together about the only person she has really loved, he takes a deep breath and frowns at the following words he says. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“About what?” Beca asks, not really feeling in the mood. Nor wanting to make her brother uncomfortable.

“Look,” Jesse starts, not wanting to give up just yet. “is this about Chloe?” He asks, even though he clearly knows the answer to that question. “I’ve got to ask…” He adds when Beca looks away with an eye roll. “… have you still got feelings for her?”

Beca scoffs at the insinuation. “No, that would be really stupid. No.” She says defensively.

Clearing his throat, Jesse asks: “Are you sure?” Needing to know. He doesn’t want to see Beca, nor Maddie, hell not even Chloe hurt by this entire ordeal. When Beca doesn’t immediately say anything, Jesse just stares at her until she looks back at him.

Finally, Beca manages to breathe out a gentle “Yeah.”

“Allora…” (So…), Jesse draws out, falling into a giggle when he sees Beca’s smile coming back slowly. “Can we duct-tape you to a pole now, please?”

Beca mentally facepalms herself when she remembers her predicament. Yet it was a tradition in the family. Whoever gets married, will get duct-taped or bound to a pole. She rolls her eyes and whispers “In a minute.” Jesse takes this as a win and heads back inside to get Benji and Mike.

A few blocks away, Chloe walks out of the club into the night. Her mind filled with all and nothing at the same time. Yet one thing, one name keeps bouncing around without ever leaving Beca.

The redhead walks further away from the entrance and hides behind a corner. Tears are threatening to spill from her eyes. She starts to remember all the moments between her and Beca, how they talked even without speaking. “Lay a whisper, on my pillow. Leave the winter, on the ground.” The words all pour out of her in a rush. Remembering how she felt when Beca wasn’t there. “I wake up lonely, the stare of silence, in the bedroom, all around.”

A bad habit she had picked up over the years, yet one that could always soothe her nerves. Talking to herself when she’s alone. Pretending to be speaking to the brunette that holds her heart. “Touch me now, I close my eyes. And dream away.”

She pushes herself off the wall and starts walking to who knows where not caring about anything at that moment. “It must have been love,” Chloe quietly admits to herself, not ever having voiced the thought after having left Puglia 3 years ago. They had told each other as much, but they were young. They didn’t know what the word meant at the time. “But it’s over now.” She says almost melancholically.

“It must have been good, but I lost it somehow.” Think about the words she’s saying, the redhead becomes more confident and starts to really understand her feelings. “It must have been love, but it’s over now. From the moment we touched, till the time it ran out.”

On the other side of the small town square, Beca is still sitting at the edge of the fountain. Her mind running a million miles an hour. Trying to sort out what she and Chloe are, or better were. “Make-believing, we’re together. That I’m sheltered by your heart.” The brunette feels cheated. Hardly processing the fact that Chloe never loved her. “But in and outside I turned to water, like a teardrop in your palm.”

The brunette’s heart feels heavy. She hasn’t wrapped her head around meeting Maddie. Proposing to her so soon after they met, even though it did feel right at the time. Losing the love of her life… NO, she has met the love of her life. Maddie is supposed to be the love of her life. “And it’s a hard winter’s day, I dream away.” Shaking her head, Beca gets up and decides to walk around for a bit. Feeling a need to stretch her legs.

Chloe sighs heavily and looks up to the moon as she walks towards the fountain where Beca had been just moments ago. “It must have been love, but it’s over now. It was all that I wanted, now I’m living without.”

Beca doesn’t notice the equally distraught Chloe as she walks away in the exposit direction. “It must have been love, but it’ over now. It’s where the water flows. It’s where the wind blows…” She doesn’t get too far, as Mike grabs her and throws her over his shoulder. Laughing the night away together with Benji and Jesse.

Chloe hears the laughter and sees the four. She quickly hides behind a wall and peeks to see what’s going on. They don’t seem to notice her, being too drunk and busy, trying to keep Beca on Mikey’s shoulder.

Having just seen the brunette, even from a distance. Chloe knows what she has to do, there is no way she could stay here. She had to go, as far away as possible. No time for goodbyes. No time for explanation, I’m sorry’s’ or feelings. With a steady pace Chloe walks further away from the party, from her sister and Beca Mitchel.

She makes it home around 30 minutes later after hailing a cab. She rushed to her room and quickly packs her suitcase. The only thing she leaves out is her bride’s maid dress. She leaves it on the bed, needing to really let go of her past that will become the future in a few hours time.

While packing her bag with her favourite book she brought over to read in her spare time, she finds an old picture of her and Beca being as happy as they ever had seemed to be. Sighing heavily, she shoves the picture together with the book in her bag and heads out to where the cab is still waiting for her, to take her to the airport.

In the car, she can’t help but look back at the picture that once used to bring her joy. She ponders about how she could talk to her sister about this later on. If her sister would ever talk to her again that is.

Finally deciding it’s time to fully let go, Chloe lets the old picture fly out of the moving cab as she sheds a single tear. Goodbye Beca. Goodby Puglia. Good luck Maddie.

#fanfiction #fanfic #bechloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale #beca and chloe #Pitch Perfect #pitch perfect 2 #pitch perfect 3 #walking on sunshine bechloe mini fic

[itsalreadybroken]

Through Expectations Chapter 1.

Ben Hardy X Reader

Synopsis: You're the daughter of the famous Roger Taylor, okay that seemed alright the thing is, you're more of a geek than a rockstar's daughter. He's blonde, blue eyes and you're brunette, brown eyes. Your brother on the other hand was the younger version of your dad, certainly he preffered to play the guitar, but that only seemed to make him even more popular. But things change the day you get to meet the cast of your dad's movie, and a certain blonde guy makes you change your point of view.

A/N: Sorry for some grammar mistake that might exist (if seen please inform me so I can change it) I'm portuguese, and trying to write something that all of you can read and hopefully enjoy!

Tell me if you liked it, it’s just an introduction and I was feeling so entitled to it, and so motivated! Thanks for all the support when I presented the idea!

Chapter 2: http://itsalreadybroken.tumblr.com/post/183270695519

Words: 2576

The alarm woke you up, and after snoozing it for what it felt like a lifetime, it had only passed 15 minutes. Like a broken record, you heard a knock on your bedroom door

“Love, it's 7:15, better get up or you're going to be late” your dad's voice was puffy and you knew he had just woken up too.

“Just five more minutes” you groaned and heard him laugh while you hid your head under the pile of blankets but after some seconds you got up, took a shower and stood in front of your closet choosing your clothes for today.

That's what you thought that made you most like your dad, the clothes you liked, the matching outfits you choose to wear. Today you went for a skirt with some stripes, a white shirt and a fur coat that matched your boots. Your hair was just messy and that's the way it would go, only brushed it a bit to seem a bit nicer and grabbed your sunglasses.

“Dad, have you seen where my keys are?” you rushed yourself down the stair while trying to find your car key, you never knew where you'd put them or sometime your brother jut hid them from you on porpouse.

“Y/N check the bowl! And get ready, after classes you gotta meet the cast, I'll tell you they're absolutely perfect. Jamie already left he had practice. Love your outfit moonpie” Roger smiled as he seen you enter the kitchen just to grab something from the fridge. Your dad always loved that you could dress that outrageous and never feel embarrassed about it, just like he did.

“Thanks old man” you giggled as you kissed his cheek “I guess Roger Taylor left me some of his fashionable tips to follow” you grabbed your purse and looked at the clock, you knew you were already late to your first lecture.

“Jamie doesn't dress like I did” your father reminded you and you tried to hide a laugh.

“Huuummm... Were the 70's and 80's, you were a rockstar, Jamie's just your kid. It's different, and he's a frat guy, that's pretty much about it” he looked at you hoping you'd correct yourself “Okaaay, you are a rockstar”.

“Fine by me” he smiled at you “Now go before you get even more late”.

You waved him goodbye and left your house.

~~~

“And that's why has a good dentist you should always check it” your professor spoke and you took a mental note of it, this semester wasn't being that bad and youthought to yourself this was the most Roger Taylor you could get. Of course people knew, and people did often aked you things about him, or asked you if you could ask dad for an autograph and you knew that people knew your eyes rolled, nonetheless you never said “no”.

“Y/N what are you thinking?” Stevie touched your arm for the twentieth time today and you could swear you sighed a bit louder.

“Am I boring you Miss Taylor?” your professor looked at you, so yeah, you sighed a bit louder “Isn't this subject of any interest to you?”

Your friend glared at you, fuck, all the students glared at you and you just shrugged “Well, no of course not!” you tried to apologise “I remembered it from last semester, I just had a bad night's sleep, that's all”.

“From partying with famous people you'd say?” there it was, a voice just made itself overheard to all and a bit of giggles just bubbled up.

Luckily for you, the bell rang and you just grabbed your stuff and got out of there.

“I am so sorry, I just looked at you and you were so bored you know?” you smiled at your friend, that was the thing, tevie was just genuine the way she did things, you'd never got mad.

“Roger Taylor's moonpie always get's away with it innit?” you laughed and went outside with your friend so she could smoke. You didn't smoke quite actually, it's not like you couldn't but you heard your dad talk about someone who had pneumonia, and decided  you didn't want that when you were a teenager and at age 22 you still thought it was better like that, plus you were already a passive smoker.

“Your brother posted a picture last night” you heard Stevie said between puffs and you just did a crooked smile.

“Lovely thing isn't he?” you laughed because since you met Stevie in university and learned about her passion about Queen, and all the things Queen, it sooned turned out to be a major crush on Roger Taylor's younger doopleganger. Jamie looked almost like your dad did when he was about his age. Blond, blue eyes (why couldn't you at least had those too?!), a smile that could drive girls so crazy to giggle after he absolutely did nothing, and the fine way to play drums, plus he had a way of being a sportsguy in university, a good one you had to admit and it drove girls crazy.

When you were seventeen you swore you'd never date a blond guy, because they made you look miserable after them!

Stevie Jackson was babbling something about the way he always talked to her and it got to your dad's raspy voice while singing so you just put your fingers on your ears and made a funny look “Too much, sorry!” she smiled a bit ashamed because she always lost herself on her magical dream where she allegedly married Roger Taylor or John Deacon (why not both she once asked you and you made a weird look) “Look who's coming” she blurted out and you looked to see who had coming, Dean Padalecki appeared and you could almost swear he was the most cool and handsome guy you'd ever seen. He was getting a master's in economics and could play footbal soooo good. You just mocked your brother, it didn't mean you couldn't fangirl and obssess too about a guy you excused yourself.

The guy wore just a flannel shirt, jeans and some tupid regular boots, but oh, how nice those jeans made him look. In your junior year he once spoke to you at a party, mostly because of music, but nonetheless, spoke and after that he just smiled whenever he saw you and you simply shyly smiled back. He was moving towards you and Stevie had made a “I don't believe it look”.

“Hey Taylor” he always called you by your last name and you always put a string of your hair behind your ear trying to look cute and all.

“Padalecki” you nodded and answered in return and he pressed his lips together smiling.

“Friday night at the club, there's this party, and wanna come?” was this just happening? Was he really asking you out like that? “Stevie can come too” he looked at your friend and she babbled something about maybe being busy. Lies, all lies.

“Yeah, maybe I'd like to” you adjusted your fur coat and just stared at him, completely abnoxious of it all while he smiled “Yeah, of coure, friday night sounds great”.

“Nice, meet you there then” he winked at you and left.

“Is this real life? Or is this just fantasy?” you heard Stevie sing and laughed because actually you didn't know it either.

The rest of your day just went simply dull while you checked your social media and saw a lot of requests, questions about your father, fanmail basically and you felt like an assistant.

“Why didn't they cast Jamie to play Roger at the movie?” Stevie questioned you while she saw some picture of the recent cast and the were all smiling next to uncle Brian and Roger, dad you reminded yourself.

“Ohhh I don't know, maybe Jamie was much overskilled and that much of a great actor you see” you mocked her “He does has the looks but not the attitude” took another sip from your coffee and looked at the picture, the cast was already wearing wigs, clothes like they used and they looked like them, being truthful Brian May was like a clone. Your dad's actor...Well a bit, not that much. He looked cute but then, just like you were synchronized “I know you don't like blonds” Stevied murmured.

“He's not so bad though” you mad a perv look and she burst out in laughter “Gonna meet them today right?” you nooded whilis listening to her question.

“All my dad talks about, he loved Freddie even though they were always arguing and he feels so proud of doing this, is like honoring him. Even thoug I told him their music honors them all everyday” you showed a simple smile and this was about as much has she could get to talk about the band in public or in anywhere else, you kept you opinions right to you.

“Except I'm in love with my car” you both mentioned at the same time. “Never tell him I told you this, but it's not so bad, his voice is damn great there” you said and she just looked at you in a faked shock .

“Indeed you are Roger Taylor's daughter, and maybe the lack of that Roger attitude that your brother lacks is in you, you just hide it well” Stevie looked you right in the eye and you knew she was being serious, because sometimes you'd get upset about stupid stuff and just made sure everyone you crossed path with, got a bit of your anger. She sure knew you'd never lock yourself in a cupboard just to get your song on a album. Would you? She thought to herself.

~~~

Your class extended a little bit and you knew you were late to meet with your father, alredy had missed calls from him and Jamie and you rushed to get into your car and drive to the studio, since our car had your phone connect to it you were able to get the call and answer it.

“Yes daddy, I'm on my way” you didn't even let him speak, calling daddy usally didn't make him upset because it reminded him you where his little girl and that came in handy sometimes, like now.

“We're waiting for you for 45 minutes” you heard him and Jamie made some comment on the background that made people laugh, you rolled your eyes.

“I know, I know, class got late, professor was teaching something about gums, and it seemed rather important” you honked your car horn “Asshole!!” you shouted.

“There's my girl!” you heard your dad laugh “Alright then, drive safe moonpie” he hung up and you kept driving simply finding too much traffic.

After 20 minutes that seemed to you like 40 minutes you arrived the studio, looked at your hair in the car mirror and it looked like you and your coat were one, you just loved fur coats, were cozy, were always in style (at least in your opinion) and they'd go with everything, today it went pretty fine with the skirt you had and the shirt.Since you were about to meet a bunch of guys, at least you had to go decent right? You locked the car and entered the studio where a perfectly fine new assistant approached you “Name, please?”.

You took the sunglasses from your face and put them on the top of your head “Y/N Taylor” you murmured and she looked at you indisbelief “His son already came in” you sent her a sarcastic smile “Exactly, do I look like a dude to you?” .

“Mr. Taylor didn't mentioned a daughter coming, nor she dressing like him a few years ago” she replied.

“Mr. Taylor doesn't need to mention his daughter coming, she just appears” you groaned “Do I look like a guy?” you asked again and she picked up the phone, probably calling to see if it was true, if you were Jamie this wouldn't have happened, he was a copy, you were just something.

“Someone will go down in a bit, darl” she changed her expression towards you, seeing she made a mistake.

You heard some steps and all you saw was a guy wearing a shirt a bit thigh to his body, a fur coat looking a bit like yours did and some sunglasses so familiars to you it made part of who your father was.

“Y/N?” the guy asked and you knew it was the guy playing your dad's part. You couldn't quite remember the name. “I'm Ben, Ben Hardy”he smile and extended his hand for you to shook.

“Ben, that's it!” you realised you have spoken out loud “Sorry, dad had told me your name but I didn't remember!” you tried to avoid his eyes when he took out the sunglasses and smiled. Luckily Stevie and Roger had the same amount of information about Queen, sometimes you soubted if dad knew more than Stevie.

“No problem!” the guy smile and you shook his hand “Roger wanted to see if I represented him well” he laughed “But his mistake you look more like him” he said mentioning your outfit.

You both laughed “If you were 50 years old, you might might, but do it this way: Rogah Taylaaah, nice to mee you, maybe I could teach ya doll to play the drums after the concert?” you made a raspy accent and leaned in to speak closer. “That's his deal, be a bit more cocky”.

He showed you the way upstairs and you were both chit chatting about the way up the studio and traffic. All the guys tood up when you entered and you ran to kiss your dad, Brain and your brother, meeting the rest of the guys.

“Don't know Roger, she looks cocky like you, plus she and Ben can get to Mardi Gras' together, look at the matching outfits” the guy named Joe said and Roger put a arm over your shoulders.

“You haven't seen nothing, an angel, but a little devil when mad” he said and made you blush in a funny way “Am not” you defended yourself.

“So... My dad was like a big crazy kid who's more excited to tell me about his news toys but tell me the truth, Queen sucks, right?”

Brian laughed “You can't help it can you?”

“Nope, makes him do a stern an mean look” you laughed.

Gwilym nodded and all the curls from the wig moved like Brian's “Please tell me you'll not grow one to or uncle Bri here will forever adopt you into his family” you showed your teeth in a funny smile making Roger laugh and Jamie rolling eyes.

“See, told ya she bites” Roger warned “Give her time and she'll loose the princess Rogerina looks”.

“Dad, it was funny when I was 6, it's not anyome, since first we don't look alike” you looked at him in a caring way, no matter what he always tried to show how much the two of you looked alike, yet you never saw it.

And all the way through some lazy chat, some eyes were looking at you like you were some kind of girl from another world, which you didn't realized, being so at your own, like no one would ever notice the smile you made was exactly like your father's.

Tag list: @killer-queen-ofrhye @cotton-candy-bubbles @applcrumblr @roseesirene @freddiewhistle @kurt-nightcrawler @works-of-fanfiction @but-legendsneverdie @jelly-snow-stark @strangemaximoff @marvel-rhapsody @blessthegulag @ur-gunna-h8-ths @destiel-stucky4ever-loki-queen@celebsimagines @queen-irl-af @rogerinasqueen 

tagged who asked me, if you want to, just let me know!

hope you like to read it as much i enjoyed writing it

#ben hardy x reader #ben hardy #queen #roger taylor #queen band #freddie #fanfic #gwilym lee #joe mazzello #brian may

[redknight3996]

31 Day Horror House Challenge

Preamble: Okay, so I realize Bogleech’s Horror House is supposed to be an art challenge done over 31 days, but I am not that confident in my artistic abilities and am also a really bad procrastinator. However, I still really liked the prompt, got inspired by it, and so I wrote a bunch of these. So I hope they still count or whatever, but even if they don’t, I wanna share because I had fun with them. They’ll be in three batches here, so expect two more after this.

1 - The Beast in the Woods

There is a road that your car will break down on, should you drive down it alone. It doesn’t matter the car, it will break down, and your phone will die. You will have no way of contacting anyone, so you will, at some point, exit the car. If you have a flashlight, you should use it. It will help illuminate the road.

You’ll see it before it sees you. In the distance, the horns will make you think it’s a deer. A very large deer. Then you’ll see that’s wrong; the snout is that of a carnivore, with sharp teeth. It has claws, not hooves. You’ll think it must be a wolf, even though no wolves live in the area. 

You may want to go back. You shouldn’t run, that will trigger its instincts. Its brown fur is patchy and covered in scabs.

Its mouth hangs open as it turns towards you, not reacting to the light in the slightest. That is because it has no eyes where it should. Instead, there are two holes, deep caverns in its head, leaking with seawater. The hound’s horns are not made of bone; they’re made of shell. 

It will seem to choke, its throat moving in a vague resemblance to coughing as water leaks from its maw. Its fur writhes and bulges as eyes form where they should, twin stalks protruding put its sockets and staring directly at you. The scabs open and bleed as shelled legs wriggle out. 

By now, you should be running. Not to your car; it doesn’t work, and even if it did, there’s already another one in the backseat. It’s not big enough to wear your car properly, but if you enter said vehicle, you would do just fine.

As such, it’s best to run to the woods instead. The trees act for a sort of cover, and you have a better chance there than out on the open road.

So keep on running. You’ll get where you need to go.

2 - Bethany

In the woods beside the road, there won’t be a path. There won’t be any indication of where to go, but assuming the beast does not run you down, you will eventually run into a gate. Potentially literally; you are very likely to slam face first into the steel bars. This will be painful, so attempt to avoid doing so.

The gateway itself is massive, composed of stone that stretches out into high walls on either side of it. The walls stretch far enough into the distance that you cannot see their end, and will not reach it either. The gates themselves are a pair, and will swing out if unlocked and opened properly. You may attempt to climb them, though doing so will have unfortunate results.

Instead, attempt to call for help. Screaming is a valid option. You will quickly drawn the attention of the gatekeeper, should you do so, and you should cease screaming once you see her, or she may disregard you as a random hooligan. This would be a bad outcome.

The gatekeeper’s name is Bethany, and unless you are taller than 6’8”, or 203 centimeters tall, you will be smaller than her. You will likely be smaller than her in other regards, even if you exceed her height, as she is very large individual, broad in both shoulder and belly. This is difficult to tell, however, as she is wearing a very large coat, as a gatekeeper should. It keeps out the cold, you see.

Her wide-brimmed hat and thick headscarf are further practical, as they keep off that glaring moonlight, and the gloves are a clear necessity to keep her fingers together in this chilling wind that you still clearly feel. These are natural things. This is a natural person.

You may be somewhat unnerved when she first turns to you and speaks though, as she has a somewhat thick voice, like a person sick for several weeks without getting better, their lungs clumped with phlegm. Do not worry though, you will not get ill, from her. She is wearing a mask. That keeps the sickness in.

It is a pale mask, stark white against the deep blacks and browns of her clothing, and circular, much like the moon. Similarly to the moon, it has holes in it; three holes, black as pitch, and spaced in a triangle. One for each eye, and one for the mouth. They might move, but that fact stays consistent.

She will greet you politely and ask your business. Explain your situation and try not to lie. Lies have a habit of coming out at inconvenient times. Try not to scream either, even if you hear the beast following you, because she will think you hoodlum and leave you outside. Your goal is to get in, so be honest, forthright, and polite. She will let you in.

You may note a substance on her boots. Something red and squishy. You may notice stains on her jeans that you cannot quite tell if they are a dried brown or a fresh red. You might notice dirt spill from her jacket as she turns and watches you the entire way up the path to the large manor at the end. The long, stone path, flanked by bronze statues dressed in gardening gear and filled with plants that spill from their hollow eyes and mouths. Stick to that path. She is watching for a reason.

Also, do not comment on her stains or dirt or any mold you may notice. Bethany is a hardworking woman, and she can handle things on her own. She knows. You’ll look like an idiot for pointing it out. Don’t be an idiot.

Do not worry about the beast either. If it has chased you all this way, Bethany will notice it. She will grumble under her breath as it claws at the gate and screeches in unearthly tones, and turn to it. You will be too far to see what she does, but her jacket will open. So will something else. 

A sound like a garbage disposal will echo, and the beast will be handled. If you stared, you should know, those were not teeth. They were roots.

3 - Lucille

Lucille Tarallo is the head maid of the Murcoll Estate and its chief housekeeper. Her primary responsibilities involve seeing to the general upkeep of the house, the maintenance of its many artworks and artifacts, and the care of both its residents, and its guests. Because while it is a manor, one owned and operated by a singular proprietor, it is also a lodging, for when one has so much space that they could fit a dozen families inside and still have room, then what is the point of not using it? To flaunt, like some prancing peacock? Poppycock and balderdash, then we’d be no better than the fucking Battersbys.

You will likely receive such a speech if you inquire about the manor, and about dear Lucille’s place within it. As for Lucille herself, she is typically a woman of near-average height, and the majority of her bodies stay in that mold, if not that cast. To explain further, Lucille is not a singular entity; rather, she is spread out throughout the entire manor through a series of bodies one could say she is “puppeteering”. 

Not to worry though, if you are the type to worry; the bodies are statues. Marble statues, specifically, though ones that are perfectly correct in all physical resemblance to a human body, thank you very much. Specifically, a human body resembling a young woman, often fitted with a wig of varying hair colors–though primarily blonde, brunette, raven, and/or ginger–that is cut into a proper bob that would keep out of the leaking tar pits that are her otherwise empty eyes.

Do not worry, she knows about them, they won’t drip onto anything important. That’s the necessity of a black maid dress, you see. The same kind all of her bodies wear. She has a proper uniform, you see, and a proper one, with a long skirt, an apron, and a proper cap. No unnecessary frills or exclusions like those French harlots. No, everything is proper.

You may notice by now that her mouth, which will remain closed in every statue that has it closed because proper statues do not move their faces, may bubble with tar if she is agitated. Do point this out to her, as she will swiftly correct it with a handkerchief pulled from the many pockets her apron hides, while if it goes unremarked, she will either notice, or someone else will point it out, and this will embarrass her. Be polite.

You may note, while walking with Lucille throughout the manor because she has duly appointed herself your tour guide while you are a guest at the estate, that her bodies seem to follow a sort of presence. Active bodies leak their tar and go about their business as the one she is primarily puppeteering–properly designated through its possession of spectacles–passes by them, only to turn inert once she far enough away. She is limited in some regards, though all of her bodies, active or inert, retain awareness of their location. 

So if you happen to be out of her presence for whatever reason, simply request aid from the nearest body, and she will arrive posthaste. Do not attempt any tomfoolery with said inert bodies though; as stated, she can feel, and see, and smell, and taste you. Hear you too, in case that wasn’t clear, though it may not be. Maybe you can’t hear. Who knows? She doesn’t.

She will if you mess with her though. So please, don’t. She is made of solid stone. Getting slapped will break your teeth.

4 - Alexandria

You’ve already seen Alexandria on your way in, and she’s seen you. She’ll make this clear the instant you go to the gardens by waving with a bright, beaming grin. Literally, in her case, for while the middle sister of the Tarallo family shares some resemblance to her seriously adorable younger sister–Seriously, isn’t Lucy just the cutest? Always so serious~!–she also shares a number of differences.

For one thing, their professions. 

While Lucille is the housekeeper, Alexandria–Lex or Lexi if you want to be friendly, though she has a preference for the latter–is the groundskeeper. She keeps the grounds, and that means maintaining the gardens, whether they be plant, mushroom, rock, sand, or hanging. Some are trickier than others, but she does her best, and that is further shown with the fact that in her bronze body, she keeps a number of vegetation and fungi growing directly within her. 

Oftentimes, she uses them for decoration, resulting in her having “hair” consisting of flower petals and mushroom caps. Not just on her head, but anywhere a human being could be expected to have hair, though she tends to vary placement so she can get one style or another.

She also has to factor in how well they match with her clothes, as her various bodies have a number of outfits on. All of the outdoorsy variety, and all very well suited for gardening and farming and outdoorsing, but still, different, and thus requiring different color combinations.

Really, she might be about as bright as the flowers and caps themselves, though that may be due to the further fact that her nature itself is quite different from Lucille’s. Both of them maintain a number of bodies, of course, but where Lucille tends to leak, Lexi tends to glow. Literally, as her orifices in her active bodies shine with the yellow light of large warning signs, illuminating the garden in the night like great lighthouses warding ships from shores and making sure you stay on the damn paths.

That’s a point she would like to make. The garden is lovely. It can be for playing and planting and traipsing. In the daytime. Later afternoon, especially!

Nighttime is for sprinklers and sheers and things in the dirt. You can visit. Just keep on the paths, keep out of the greenhouse, and stay away from the pond. The fountain might be fine, if Darren isn’t being a fuckwit, but we’ll see.

Well, you shouldn’t. See, that is. That’s how he gets you.

Anyway! That’s the gardens! Feel free to enjoy in the proper areas!

5 - Oscar

Once you have made clear your need for car repair, Lucille will guide you to the garage, which is both smaller and taller than you would expect. There’s a man there, working under a car, and at first, all you will see is the lower half of his overalls, and the large, black boots he wears.

Lucille will clear her throat, seeming almost nervous for the first time since you’ve met her, and announce your need. The man will grunt, and push himself out from under the car. It will take a few pushes.

Oscar Felmont will almost undoubtedly loom over you. Few people are nine feet tall, so this should be expected.

You may, at first glance, assume he is a crocodile man. You may, at second glance, assume instead that he is a shark man. You will be somehow both correct and wrong, because he is half-shark, half-crocodile, and half-man, and yes, that is precisely how the ratios worked. It’s why he has four arms, the second set jutting from just under the “natural” set. You will likely have been questioning that, and you will more than likely be unsatisfied by that answer.

Oscar, whose skin is quite literally split down the middle between bumpy, rigid crocodile skin and rough, stabby shark scales, will dislike you if you voice that dissatisfaction. Considering his mouth is full of one row of crocodile teeth–which you can see sticking out of his mouth even while closed–and multiple rows of shark teeth, this is ill-advised.

Further, Oscar is a very muscular man. That is very noticeable. He is not wearing a shirt under his overalls, and they are rather low cut on the sides, most likely to accommodate his extra arms. He is also wearing a red trucker’s cap on his otherwise bald head, and he has a set of small nostrils instead of a full nose. He also seems to lack ears, though you’ll notice a set of headphones around his neck, and a phone in his breast pocket, with which he was listening to music. He still noticed you coming in, of course. He’s not sloppy.

Lucille will explain your presence and request, and he will nod, before going to gather up the necessary tools. Lucille will stare at him throughout this endeavor. Her gaze will drift lower at points. She will more than likely not notice if you attempt to speak to her at this time, only giving noncommittal answers. She is busy. Get the hint.

Oscar will leave eventually, and at some point, will come back. Assuming things are fine then, he will announce that your car is pregnant, and give you a very unamused stare. The correct answer is to explain the presence of the beast out in the woods; this will explain things to his satisfaction. Attempting explanations of how you would never do such a thing and expressing bafflement that such an occurrence could even be possible from a biological standpoint will only result in him slowly shaking his head at you in judgmental silence, until you inevitably leave out of awkward discomfort.

6 - Daisy

You might notice Daisy as you walk through the halls with Lucille. She might notice you first, because you probably smell of the outside world and she’ll become curious, but it’s equally possible that you may catch her napping on one of her heated rocks. 

Assuming you do not though, you will likely be taken by surprise as an enormous quadrupedal reptile turns a corner and stares down at you with three sets of eyes. Do not be alarmed, she is smooth enough to avoid damaging the nearby paintings or suits of armor, though her tail may whack a few things. She only has the one tail, and it will not wriggle with happiness at the sight of you. She is not a dog, she is a lizard. 

A very large, yellow-green lizard, who will more than likely take up the entire hallway you are walking down. One with three heads, extending from three necks that are attached to one torso, where necks normally attach. Between the shoulders, in case that isn’t clear.

Her necks are frilled, which does make it tricky to get the collars on, but they do so add an adorable burst of color whenever they flare. Different colors for each head, specifically; the leftmost head is a vibrant poppy orange, the middle is pure sunflower yellow, and the rightmost is deep grass green, though the textures may resemble more tangerine, lemon, and lime, if you really think about it. Her eyes also vary, though they all retain the same round shape and slit pupils that can go quite cutely wide when she is excited; the orange head has red eyes, the yellow head has brown eyes, and the green head has blue eyes. Simple, no?

Assuming you have remained still this entire time, you may notice Daisy sticking her forked tongues out at you, two of which are pink, and one of which is blue. Do not worry, she is not intending to lick you, merely investigate your curious scents. If you did start running, then she has almost assuredly caught and pinned you down, and is doing the same thing. It is recommended that you do not run, as her claws are still fairly sharp, and her typical playmate is made of marble. You, presumably, are not, and thus things like sharpness and heavy weight are to be avoided.

Do not scream or flail during this examination either, as Daisy may assume you are being playful, and will attempt to play. As you are small and squishy, presumably, this will end poorly, though if you are canny and clever and willing to harm such a sweetheart, you may manage to get away and even, perhaps, knock a tooth loose from one of her mouths, at which point she will most certainly give you up as a poor playmate and leave for better prospects. 

Oh, and if you do manage to harm her in such a way, Lucille will snap your neck on the spot. And you will deserve it. You monster.

Assuming you did not do any such thing and instead had a lovely time with this very sweet girl, then you may continue on as you were, unbothered and having made a new friend. 

Friends are good. Be a friendly person.

7 - Dolce

You’ll probably hear Dolce Gustoso before you see him, as he is a very naturally loud and bombastic individual, and is likely to be singing in fluent Italian as he is working in the kitchens.

If you decide to take a peek inside the kitchens instead of waiting in the dining room, you’ll notice him rather easily, as he is also a rather tall individual. Not as tall as Oscar, more around Bethany’s height, and somewhat closer to Bethany’s shape, as it is natural for a chef to be large and fat. It’s how chefs are, and Dolce is a very good chef who will light up the instant he spots you, since it is very nice to have a guest in the kitchens.

Do wash your hands though. Really, please, he is working with food here and stations must be kept sterile. Other than that, feel free to stay and watch him work, for he is a very good worker.

Dressed in proper chefly attire, consisting of poofy toque blanche, white double-breasted jacket, black-and-white houndstooth-patterned pants, and a white apron, he is the very picture of chef-ish professionality, so please, do not find his metal body off-putting. He was made for this type of job, you see, quite literally made, and he most certainly loves his passion here.

But yes, his appearance, one must address that. As stated previously, he is large and rotund, possessing a “skin” of black and chrome metal. Black overall, chrome at the joints and extremities such as fingernails. He has a mouth, because that is a necessity, consisting of a vertical grill. About eight or so steel bars, spaced evenly below a flat, almost-bovine nose. Above said nose is one eye where his right eye should be placed, and a dial where his left eye should be. You may note him adjusting this dial as he works, and you may notice points of his body shifting as he does. 

You see, Dolce is a professional chef, and that means he must be prepared to work with a variety of dishes and he has taken steps to ensure he is capable of making almost anything on request, which means his body must be the right temperature to keep the dishes at the right temperature. As such, when the dial is turned, the vents on his body either go a burning red or a cold blue. Try not to bother him when he is in “red mode”, as he is likely working hard on something and may be less patient with you.

Otherwise, do feel free to make requests if you want a meal, as he will prepare just about anything on request. He will not harm himself or Estate residents, and Lucille will still be there, so try not to be too much of a smarm. Also, it is recommended that you do not say something like “make me food”, as his grasp of the English language, while impressive, is not perfect. Food, he understands, and honestly, it’s not his place to judge a person’s fetishes, so he will acquiesce to your request with a swiftness that you will not get out of. So be careful with your words.

Otherwise, simply return to the dining room, and wait for your food. Lucille will bring it out as soon as it’s done, and it will be delicious.

8 - Uzia

While walking through the manor halls, you may notice something floating near the walls. Up high, by the ceiling, where they may watch you pass by. They are little things, resembling jellyfish in general shape, though they are in the air, so more like “jellyfloats”. Granted, fish isn’t a synonym for swim, so that doesn’t quite work, but they’re not jellybirds...The point being, you might notice these little things, and Lucille will flinch if she does notice them.

They creep her out, you see, and you might notice her nearby bodies going completely inert in their presence. If you’re curious as to why she’s so nervous, look closer, and you’ll notice the little eyes lining these crimson creatures. The human eyes, to be clear. Perfectly shaped, human eyes, wide open in what could be surprise or terror. The irises match the color of the Uzia, the little floating monster, and you might notice there are variants, but you’ll get to that later. 

The ones here, the first Uzia you see, are small, floating creatures with dome-like bodies and multiple smooth tentacles drifting down and hanging in the air. They are partially translucent, and you can see the scarlet nerves spread throughout their crimson bodies. Around the middle of their bodies are a ring of eight human eyes with red irises and black pupils and white sclerae, spaced evenly, and staring at you the instant you notice them. Their eyes will turn to look at you, and there will be a low crackle in the air as they wait to see what you will do.

At which point, Lucille will return in the company of a different large man named Boris, who you will properly meet later. He will handily grab the Uzia and put them in a jar, nodding to you as he passes by and Lucille breathes a bubbly sigh of relief. 

She will apologize for her lack of professionalism, but she really can’t stand those things. They’re not even harmful, they’re just creepy. The most they can do is give you a little sting if you get too close.

Note that this is information from the perspective of a marble woman. This is not the perspective of a flesh and blood human. Flesh and blood burns and boils far more easily, and the red Uzia of eyes are territorial creatures. Walking through the halls will not disturb them, but approaching their walls and reaching up towards them without the proper equipment will result in a small beam, akin to a cartoonish laser, bursting from their eye and searing straight through your skin and blood and bone. And then they will swarm you, because you are a threat, and continue firing until you stop being one.

There are other variants, also, as stated previously. The “eyezia”, as you may be prompted to call them, actually come in three variants. You may think there’s a fourth, but no, that’s a different type entirely. One variant is green and tends to petrify, while the other is cyan and tends to freeze.

There are also other species! Earzia, mozia, nozia, flezia, solzia and one type you’re guaranteed to see later, assuming you make it to that point. You may even want to try collecting them all! It could be a fun little game for you, if one that could turn very lethal if poorly done.

Just don’t stack them. You may be tempted to do so, but don’t. It won’t turn out well.

9 - Brannagen

You were told to stay on the path. Lexi was very clear about this, but then you’re apparently a poor listener, so this was inevitable. 

To have this happen, at some point, you decided to walk off of the clearly marked cobblestone pathways and onto the lawn or even into the flower beds proper. Further, you decided to do this where Lexi was not active, so she did not notice and stop you immediately. Now though, the vibrations of your foot hitting the dirt has already signaled and awakened one of the garden’s residents, one Mister Brannagen.

You’ll notice his approach by the slight shifting and sinking of earth nearby you. If you have fallen into any hole formed in the lawn, you are already being beaten, poisoned, and/or strangled to death by the immense worm now wrapped around you. You will most likely not get a good view of Brannagen at any point while still being able to survive the encounter, so for the sake of clearness, a description shall be provided.

Brannagen is a very long and tall tan-brown worm, several yards in length and possessing of a large, flat, spade-like head, akin to a shovel if a shovel had a ridged body like the world’s most menacing accordion. It’s for propulsion, you see, and Brannagen is quite good at propelling himself through solid earth as though he is outright swimming through it. A further sign of his presence is, in fact, the earth beginning to liquefy around his prey, so that is somewhat literal. 

Regardless, you should run. The path won’t help you by this point, since he already knows you’re there, and he will pursue you. Entirely out of amusement, mind you. He can expect to be fed whenever he needs food, so it’s not out of a predatory urge for a meal. No, he’s doing this because he finds it enjoyable. He is hunting you because it is fun.

The chase is a delight, and as such, he will not be dissuaded by obstacles or inconveniences. It’s a point of pride to catch you, and the more you struggle and escape, the more invested he becomes in “winning”. He will not listen to your pleas, because it’s hard to hear through solid earth, and he won’t engage you in banter because he doesn’t have a mouth. At least not one capable of vocalization. He does have one capable of drinking your innards like a smoothie, so be aware of that.

So run. Run, run, and keep on running, until you reach a point that he cannot chase you. The manor, the fountain, and the pond are all places he won’t go, though the latter two are still very poor choices, as you will soon notice.

10 - Darren

Whether or not you’re in the process of being pursued by an immense worm seeking your violent death, you may notice a horse standing in then garden’s pond, or in the garden’s fountain. The former is more likely than the latter, since he is technically not allowed in the fountain, but you might see him in either place.

That horse is Darren. You may be drawn in when you see him, because he is a very beautiful horse, sparkling white in the moonlight as though the moon itself was acting as his spotlight. His mane will be a brilliant blue, like bluebell flames curling from his head, and will most assuredly show him as an ethereal, otherworldly being. He’s not trying to pretend differently.

Really, it’s better if you think he is otherworldly, because otherwise you may start having questions like “is that horse standing on water?” and “why is its torso weirdly elongated?”. 

It’s to fit more riders. That’s why.

Anyhow, Darren will whinny and nicker and do many horse-ish things as he shows how very beautiful and lovely he is. He may even walk to the water’s edge and stare with big, watery-blue eyes at you, as though tugging at the strings of your heart and eliciting sympathy for this poor unfortunate water horse, who just wants some companionship.

It might not work though, and which point he’ll huff and wander away from you, acting standoffish and as though he’s too good for you, you poor pathetic wastrel, and really, why should he pay you any attention at all? All while glancing back every so often to see if you seem any more interested than before.

And, if you happen to be being chased by Brannagen, then he’ll promptly leap into action! Well, he’ll leap to the edge of the pond and make very loud noises at you as he tries to convey that you should ride him to safety. You’re his friend! He won’t let you die!

Because he’ll kill you himself, of course. It’s a game he and Brannagen play, you see. While Brannagen does enjoy the thrill of the hunt, Darren is more of a deceptive predator, and the two occasionally act in conjunction. Brannagen chase the prey to Darren, who will look as though he is a very inviting steed who will help them get away. At which point, once they leap onto the noble water horse, they will be promptly dragged beneath the surface of pond/fountain, because as it turns out, Darren’s body is actually shockingly sticky. 

Rather unpleasantly adhesive, really, and even the slightest touch to his body will get a person’s hand stuck there completely, whereupon he will pull them down and drown them. Or, if he’s feeling impatient, he may just begin tearing them open with his unpleasant teeth.

Not to worry though, if you do happen to meet this fate. Your mutilated body will be tossed back to Brannagen, so he can properly drink your now waterlogged corpse. The water gives it an interesting taste, you see. As for if Brannagen catches you, if you’re close enough to the pond, he’ll still toss your drained and desiccated corpse to his pal, because that’s just what friends do for each other, and jerky is still fine to eat.

So do try to avoid trusting watery horses, they really aren’t good for you. Massive worms aren’t either, but at least you know death is coming there. Just be good at sprinting and run past both of them, if you need to. That, or start shouting for Lexi. She won’t help you with Brannagen because she already explained the warning there, but if she sees Darren in the fountain, she’ll start shouting at the now cowering idiot, and Brannagen might pause in his chase to go “watch” that instead.

Friends though they may be, sometimes it’s just fun to watch someone get yelled at.

#31 day horror house #Halloween #horror #my writing

[gooddame]

Someone Worthwhile

This is a drabble prompt for the lovely darling in need of Klaroline meeting at Comic-Con my @childoftimeandmagic! I hope you get some time today to read this monster. All Fluff and banter.

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Special stars are Bonnie, Tyler, Enzo, Marcel, Damon, Finn, Stefan, and a mention of Elijah.

<3

She hears her hotel door open but is surprised by the voice, “Caroline,” his voice shocks her from her excitement of the building crowds in the streets she sees from her hotel window.

He must have bribed the hotel to let him in, she thought maybe she really needed to stop using Tracy Samantha Lord as her fake name at the front desk as he says, “I need a favor.”

Caroline turns around as Bonnie trails in behind him having found her Gamora wig, she smiles at her friend and then at her ex, “Nope, I’m here strictly on a fan basis this year. I promised.”

Bonnie nods at the bathroom as Tyler begins to speak, “You didn’t even know what I was gonna ask,” he retorts while cracking his knuckles like he’s about to finish off the biggest deal he’s ever made.

The Blonde laughs almost to herself recognizing all his usual tricks, “But I know that look on your face, it says ‘I need working Caroline’” she reveals to him as she walks to meet him eye to eye.

“It would only be an hour,” Tyler stresses, “You’ll be back before anyone knows you’re here as,” the brunette tall man trails off trying to figure out her rainbow top and blue pants.

“I’m The Doctor,” Caroline laughs putting him out of his misery; Tyler was all business and no fun.

“Doctor who,” he asked, his brow meeting in the center of his forehead not bothering to hide his confusion.

“Exactly,” she states with a grin and her hands on her hips full wonder woman pose.

Bonnie laughs coming out of the bathroom in full garb, “I knew cutting your hair this short would be perfect,” she tells Caroline making the blonde actress preen as she touches her own hair.

Tyler watches the two confused as to how he grew up with them before the tension in his brows gets the best of him, “Look, I need a celebrity commentator just for the Epic Kings group session.”

Caroline’s body freezes, fangirl mode launched as she presses her hands on Tyler’s arms, “You want me to talk to Klaus Mikaelson never having met him before and talk about how he and Silas are going to go head to head this season,” she exclaims excitedly.

“And the whole crew,” Tyler begins to smile near excitement dawning on his face at the way Caroline speaks animatedly like she might just do it.

Bonnie is the one to cut in with a groaning, “When does this start,” knowing that Caroline would not do it if she asked.

It’s with this information in mind Bonnie doesn’t look completely put out knowing that her best friend would be crazy to not miss a job opportunity like this. She walks over to the pair of friends and hugs Caroline who is about to meet her own secret celebrity crush in the process.

“So it’s a yes,” Tyler asks Bonnie with the saddest pair of puppy eyes he can muster making it even more dramatic the longer she takes to nod her head.

“You’ll have to call Kat,” Caroline warns him about her agent, “But I’m sure she’ll be on board,” she finishes off knowing Kat wouldn’t mind a pair of really nice shoes as a bonus.

“Let’s get you to conference room 394,” Tyler thanks them gripping both the girls hands for getting him out of a bind, “Bonnie can come too,” he says with false woefulness.

“Maybe I don’t wanna come,” Bonnie giggles as they grab for their bags and phones making sure to keep the hotel key on them.

“He dais cast and crew Bonnie, Enzo will be there,” Caroline murmurs with a look that says ‘get on board’ making Bonnie freeze too.

“Holy crap,” she cries making Tyler look up from his phone behind them while confirming with Kat about Caroline’s changing schedule. “I’m gonna meet St. John.”

“Not if we don’t hurry,” Tyler tells them as they reach the elevator doors.

-<3-

Caroline looks around the allotted conference room pacing the makeshift backstage when someone with a badge and Madonna phone stops in front of her, “Let’s get you a mic, and get you talking,” he says walking to a table with an array of gray plastic cases filled with equipment.

The actress, no stranger to a microphone of a camera reaches for the one that has ‘commentator’ taped to side, the tense individual sighs in relief that she’s found her mic, “Say something,” he directs.

“I like Paris in summer,” she states clearly after flicking on the mic seems to solve the man’s problem because he nods.

“Yup, that’s great, were gonna start letting the crowd in now so just hold off on coming out for a bit,” He explains using his pen to scratch another thing off of his clipboard and disappears leaving Caroline alone.

“Paris in summer is breathtaking,” an accented voice agrees from behind her making Caroline turn around to see who is speaking to her as she switches off the mic.

“Klaus,” she blurts out in a gush of air surprised by his surreal presence.

“Mikaelson,” he very nearly blushes as he extends a hand to her own, “And you’re Caroline,” he utters against her knuckles mouth brushing them as he speaks.

“You know me,” Caroline takes back her hand gaining her confidence back smoothly if not swiftly as he continues to speak.

“I know of you,” he admits with a pointed tilt of his head his eyes looking at her appreciatively, “Your work on The Good Lady was, astonishing,” his eyes meet hers then to show his complete sincerity.

“I, well, thank you, it was great to do something different,” the blonde responds when an enthusiastic smile that would have had all of Mystic Falls at her feet.

“Klaus, no flirting with the pretty girl until after, okay,” a man with hero hair chimes in while reaching for Klaus’ shoulder, apparently they knew each other.

“Sorry Love,” he utters as he follows hero hair along the other side of the back stage.

“How are you doing,” Bonnie makes Caroline jump in surprise as he disappears from view.

“Bonnie, he knows me,” she finds herself saying as she recounts what he said about her performance in the Good Lady, it was her first time doing something other than girl next door flicks and views had not taken it well.

“I saw that,” the brunette smiles knowing Caroline has gone starry eyed but needs to be refocused, “He know you too,: she mocks before using another more authoritative tone, “Snap out of it babe.”

Caroline takes a deep centering breath, “You’re so right,” she nods her head shaking off the feeling of his lips on her hand by formulating a plan, “Keep it cool. Mouth exercises let’s do this.”

The blonde asserts herself checking her stance, as Bonnie reaches for one of the free water bottles realizing someone is reaching for the same one as her, “I see an angel,” he declares.

Bonnie rolls her eyes grumbling, “More of witch,” she replies opening the water bottle and nearly chocking as she sees his face, “St. John.”

“I like to go by Enzo,” he rejoins with contentment as he takes the bottle from her hand and sips from it before she can, “I suppose your name is something other than little witch.”

“Bonnie,” she replies swiping the bottle from his hands as she juts her hip.

“Bonnie,” he smirks about to say something more.

“I really got to keep you guys on leashes,” the man with hero hair appears again reaching for the back of Enzo’s shirt, “Let’s go before Elijah finds you guys out of order again.”

“Stefan, mate, relax,” Enzo says pushing back his slick hair, “It’s a fan driven event, means there’s supposed to be fun had,” he says that last bit to Bonnie with a wink.

“Yeah, okay, let’s go,” Stefan tells him making him leave Bonnie with nothing more than a little wave.

The anxious man from before returns to Caroline’s side, just as Tyler enters giving her two thumbs up, “Here are your cue cards and the names of each character, don’t forget your remote for the sizzle video and secret preview after,” the rest is a blur as Caroline reaches the stairs to go onto the stage.

“Holy crap,” she mutters with her fingers on the mic off switch.

“You’ve got this,” Bonnie reiterates shaking off her own encounter, “You’re an academy award nominee and you’re just doing Tyler a favor, this is nothing,” she reminds her watering down the situation.

“You’re absolutely right,” Caroline agrees hugging her best friend, “I’ll see you after.”

-<3-

The panel is slow to begin from the backstage while the leading men are being called by a pre-recorded voice in a flamboyant nature to the stage by their names one by one. For Caroline and for the crowd it’s the best time to cheer for each actor and show their personal appreciation. Klaus catches her eye and his smile is megawatt wide making Caroline instinctively grin back at him.

Her wave at him seems to make his smile more alluring, his eyes more firm as if they’re looking into her soul and finding everything so she breaks contact looking out past the stage.

She can see how the room only minutes ago empty seems smaller now with hundreds of fans settled into their seats cheerfully could still seem to be chaos. Caroline hugs her mic to her chest carefully switching it on as she takes her seat when Finn the arch enemy of the Epic Kings cast is called as he is the final one to arrive.

A hint of butterflies flutter in her stomach in excitement Caroline introduces herself to the crowd and they immediately recognize her as she declares with delight, “Surprise!”

Before long the sizzle reel starts and the crowd is eager to hear from the men of the show who excitedly and in colorful language, express the mutual respect they have for one another and their fan base. Caroline finds herself enraptured in the conversation often forgetting her cue cards and asking the real questions fans weren’t generally allowed to. Damon, the creator of the show does his best to keep his lips sealed about the plot of the season but more often than not Caroline get something out of him.

This leads them to fan base questions towards the end of the panel where a select group of people who watch the show can ask questions burning on fans tongues and web pages. Between Klaus and Marcel you can tell there is a true kinship and Caroline is glad that their chemistry is not just one made up by television. She does her best to keep herself composed around Damon’s gross commentary nodding to Tyler when he sees her face twisting in distaste for the famously cringe-worthy creator of the show reeling it back to the basis of the panel session.

After one on-set hi-jinks question from a fan Enzo tells story that has everyone enthralled even before he begins, “So Klaus was rounding the set during rehearsal in dead of night mind you,” he pauses looking directly at the crowd.

His hands out like pointed weapons, “With these two pistols and Marcel comes around the other end of storage container both, with no idea that they’re about to run into one another.”

The cast is in stitches at the memory by that point as he laughs fully, “Long story short, Klaus shot Marcel in the back.”

Klaus feigns weakness with his hand to his mouth, “Our friendship almost died,” he fake sobs into the mic.

Marcel laughs patting him on the back, “I almost died, you didn’t know it was me,” he calls out.

“It was a fake pistol,” Klaus replies so deftly he looks saintly.

As for his friend Marcel pretends to be wounded at his friend’s words, “I didn’t know that at the time,” he points out.

Klaus rebuttals, “You think that low of me,” he asks with a huge smile.

Finn sighs, “Well, I do think it’s possible but I’m the bad guy you were gonna shoot,” he reveals making the crowd gasp.

Caroline laughs seeing Tyler’s signal to switch up the topics, “Alright, alright next topic, on this season of Epic Kings Klaus, your character is supposed to be challenged to the extreme, what does that mean?”

Klaus and Damon exchange a glance before he looks to her and explains, “Well he’s a bloody killer,” he laughs scratching his neck, “He’s gone out on his own, essentially left the family.”

Marcel ducks his head so Caroline looks to him as he interjects, “Yeah, we’re so lost without you.”

Klaus chuckles as he looks from Marcel to the crowd, “They are, the little dears, no, ah, my character is very vulnerable at the beginning of the season, he doesn’t know who he can trust,” he clarifies.

“Maybe Nick can take up with the Scooby Doo gang and really flesh out those characters, build an army,” Caroline speaks before she realizes she’s talking into her mic making the crowd wild.

“You watch the show,” Damon asks before Klaus can and Caroline nods.

“Of course, I do that’s why I was asked to commentate,” she half lies smoothly, “See the mic says so.”

“What are your thoughts on the show,” Klaus asks her genuinely curious as the crows settles.

“I ask the questions,” she replies with a flirty smile.

“I do like a lady in charge,” he rejoinders with a wicked look that gives her chills.

“Oh, do you,” she just about gets up to speak to him the tension radiates between them as she tells him, “Because you don’t strike me as,” trailing off when she sees Tyler’s mean look.

“Okay, back to the show,” the actress smiles her best pageant smile once more addressing the audience, “Sorry fans, we have time for one last question and then we’re gonna reveal a very special scene from the new season of Epic Kings!”

She laughs as the guys on stage start humming the theme song dramatically playing pretend instruments as Caroline picks out another name from the pile of pre-approved questions, “Last question by fan, April, go ahead.”

“Hi, I love you guys,” the brunette wide-eyed fan squeals, “Okay, my question is, are there any new or old love interests this season that might make the Kings not get back together?”

Damon takes over that question leaving the cast to nod whenever they agree with something he says, “That’s a great question April,” he answers with a compliment and a leering look that makes even Caroline cringe before he gets to the answer.

“For now, we are thinking a new love interest, especially for Nick who is on his own now and heavily eyeing our commentator,” he mutters into his mic, “He will meet someone in the first I’d say 3 or 4 episodes of the season and it’s gonna really change the dynamic I think.”

Klaus locks eyes with Caroline as he speaks into his mic, “Meeting a new person that’s worthwhile can have a profound effect on how people act. And I think we’re going to see that in Nick and the way he goes about either reconciling with his brothers or not.”

“Get a room,” Bonnie shouts from backstage making Caroline blush as if she wasn’t already turning red from the heat in the room.

“Oh piss off St. John,” she hears Klaus groan pushing at his friend his seemed to be immobilized by laughter at Bonnie’s comment.

“And that’s it for the panel guys,” Caroline tells the crowd as she stands from her chair, How about a big applause for these guys? Thanks for coming out,” lots of whistles erupt in the room as the guys get up from their chairs making Marcel and Finn flex only egging on the crowd further.

Klaus walks directly to Caroline moving with the agility of a jaguar off of the wrong side of the stage, “Listen Caroline I,” he stops short as Caroline’s face brushes his.

Caroline for her own reasoning hadn’t realized how close Klaus was until she turns to look at him, “Oh, sorry, you were saying?”

Her eyes asks him to continue as the backstage erupts as well into working on the next panel set up, “I’d like to have dinner,” he clarifies.

Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise, not knowing how to reply, “There’s a restaurant nearby that delivers called Beso, I recommend it.”

“I meant with you,” Klaus articulates running a skittish hand threw his curls, “I meant what I said out there, about when you meet someone worthwhile.”

The blonde smiles as him, “How do you know I’m worthwhile or interested,” she inquires.

“Because if nothing else I could make a visit to set possible and you’ll understand Nick’s family strain before anyone else does,” he mutters in a tone reminiscent of one his character uses when he has the upper hand.

“Bribery,” she surmises.

“I want your attention not matter what the cost,” he says, his answering grin making her heart drop.

“Caroline just tell the man yes, or I’ll tell him about your Epic Kings themed birthday last year,” Bonnie sings as she hugs her best friend from behind.

“Bonnie! We have plans tonight or I,” she explains looking from her oldest friend to Klaus trying not to give away that Kat had already talked Damon into letting her visit the set after her movie was finished with re-shoots.

“So keep them,” Klaus states reaching for Caroline’s hand once more, “I’ll give you my direct number and you can call me anytime you’d like. But do call.”

“Okay,” Caroline relents as Bonnie lets up whispering, “Do it,” in her ear, “I will do that,” she says unlocking her phone to let him type in his number.

He types it while keeping her within eye level, “I can’t wait to hear from you Caroline,” he murmurs in caress.

“Well, fuck me,” she sighs when Klaus disappears without looking back to see her obviously stunned face because her friend just laughs.

“Oh, he will,” she tells her as she fixes Caroline’s coat.

“Bonnie!” Caroline whines half-hardheartedly at her friend’s teasing.

#klaroline #klaroline drabbles #kc drabbles #klaroline au #klaroline au drabble #klaus x caroline #klaroline fanfic #klaroline writing #kc coven #kc fic #kc writing #kc fandom #kc family #klaus mikaelson #caroline forbes #tvd #the real mikealsons #gooddame #gooddame writes #gooddame shares #my girl gets what she wants #i hope you like it

[habibialkaysani]

What Dreams Are Made Of (Laurel-centric; G)

Ships: Laurel/Nyssa (mentioned)

Summary: "And now, to begin the Star City Teen Choice Awards with a bang, please welcome to the stage our opening act, the dynamic duo, the indescribable… Pretty-Bird and Mr Green!"

Or, when Laurel l'Uccello is duped by famous American singer Oliver Queen into impersonating Ollie's ex-girlfriend, Dinah Lance (who is, like, totally her twin) while on stage.

Thankfully, said twin comes to her rescue.

A/N: Honestly, I'm not entirely sure where this came from, just that I needed to write something that would make me laugh and wasn't that serious, and when I felt down at work today I decided to watch the famous "What Dreams are Made of" scene from the Lizzie McGuire Movie, complete with singing that is nearly as shitty as mine.

So the scenario is follows the Lizzie McGuire Movie - if you haven't watched it, the cliffnotes are that Lizzie goes to Rome for a school trip. She meets a guy there, Paolo, a famous singer, who mistakes her for his (ex) girlfriend, Isabella, who looks exactly like Lizzie, just brunette. Paolo ends up convincing Lizzie to impersonate Isabella in public, hoping in the process to humiliate her by making it look like she can't sing, because he presumes Lizzie can't sing. In fact, it turns out that Paolo can't even sing live himself, so the tables turn on him during the performance.

Read at AO3

"And now, to begin the Star City Teen Choice Awards with a bang, please welcome to the stage our opening act, the dynamic duo, the unbelievable, indescribable… Pretty-Bird and Mr Green!"

Applause broke out among the crowd, not quite as thunderous as it would be later on, but still filled with whoops and cheers of enthusiasm, not to mention a fair few wolf-whistles as Oliver Queen took to the stage.

Confident and handsome as ever, Ollie sauntered onto the stage. This time, though, Laurel wasn’t enamoured as she watched from just behind the curtain. Perhaps it was because she knew he was lip-syncing the first words of his title song into the microphone: "Have you ever seen such a beautiful night?"

He turned to his partner, supposedly on stage and off, with a knowing smirk, and Laurel l’Uccello (pretending to be Dinah Lance), though nervous, began to do the same as him, mouthing the words - and miraculously, they sounded just as good as the vocals she had mimed to during rehearsal.

"I could almost kiss the stars for shining so bright," Laurel mouthed, a grin spreading on her lips as she caught sight of her saviour – Dinah, the real Dinah – behind Oliver.

Oliver's smile started to fade as he continued to mime. "When I see you smiling, I go -" But the rest of his line came out garbled, off-key, sounding, Laurel thought triumphantly as Dinah stepped onto the stage and into view, just as wrong as he was when he thought that he could humiliate either of them.

"I would never want to miss this," Dinah sang, in the kind of perfect tune Laurel realised Oliver had never learned to practice, and Laurel actually laughed as Ollie tried, valiantly, to keep going.

"'Cause in my heart, I know what this is," he sang in his horrible voice, the one the whole world was now exposed to. There was something ridiculously vindicating in seeing him being booed by the crowd so quickly.

Dinah regarded him with scorn. "This is what dreams are made of…" The piano went on and Oliver missed his cue, so then she added, "Sing to me, Ollie."

For a moment there was silence - the music was still playing, but that made it better, really, because the music was what Oliver Queen was finally being made to face.

Then he ripped off his mic and stomped off the stage.

"Guys and gals," Dinah said into her mic, to resounding applause and cheers, "and most importantly, my nonbinary pals – make some noise for my new Italian friend, Laurel l’Uccello!"

And God, it was surprisingly freeing, when after giving everyone a wave, Laurel took off the brunette wig she had on and shook free her blonde hair, even more so when the crowd at her feet seemed to delight in the gesture just as much as her.

"Buena sera, Star City!"

"Do you wanna hear her sing?" Dinah said into her mic. The crowd cheered loudly in assent, and the music started up, more upbeat than the ballad version they had before. Dinah covered the mic with her hand for a second, saying quietly to Laurel, "Don't worry, girl - you got this."

And to Laurel’s amazement, Dinah was right. Against what felt like all odds, Laurel was good at this. Her voice came naturally to her, as if her vocal chords had been primed all her life, all those times she thought it hadn’t mattered, for this very moment.

And Dinah, her pseudo-twin who somehow not only looked like Laurel but who moved like her too, naturally mirroring Laurel on stage as if they had practised this routine for weeks, sang with Laurel; they sang their hearts out so they really did bring the house down. Their voices reverberated around the stadium, coming together as one when they got to the chorus of "hey now", echoed by the audience who were on their feet now.

About halfway through, Laurel caught sight of her best friend, Nyssa, who was watching with a distinct look of pride as Laurel sang - so when Laurel got to "here and now, it's you and me" she looked right at Nyssa, pointing first at herself and then at Nyssa. Nyssa's response was for the biggest smile Laurel had ever seen to split across her beautiful face.

The crowd was screaming in approval by the end, and then as the song finished Laurel took Dinah's hand and they did a bow to the audience - two pretty birds who had, in fact, never needed a Mr Green, and were, at the end of the day, well shot of him.

#laurel lance #arrow fanfiction #arrow fic #dinah laurel lance #arrow #so #if you're wondering how this fic came to be #let me give you the 411 #i was feeling depressed af at work today and also on the verge of tears for reasons we shall leave unexplained #so i decided to put on the specific scene where paolo tries and fails spectacularly to sing live #and i realised that the singing that's done in that scene is different from the version i've got #and i have this thing for a gajillion versions of the same song lol #so i watched it #and as i was getting to the famous shot of lizzie from behind #i was reminded of another excellent ass shot on error #and so this drabble/ficlet thing was born #you're WELCOME #the lizzie mcguire movie #mine #my fic

[artificialqueens]

Notebooks and post-it’s - chapter 2 - (Branjie) - thankyoumissvanjie

A/N: come the angst filled rabbit hole with me.

“Oh. It’s you. What do you want?” Vanjie wanted to shiver with the iciness of her tone, as Brooke just kept on blending her purple smokey eyes.

“We got’s to talk.”

LINK TO AO3 HERE

The season 11 tour was an experience.

It was hard work, an insane amount of travelling and also a bit like being on summer camp.

There was no other way for Nina explain it. Being together with her season 11 sisters was amazing. The absence of cameras made them all relax more, which made the drama disappear.

It made it possible for her to really appreciate all her sisters.

She was in awe over Yvie’s drag, she loved A’keria and her tendency to stir the pot. Plastique, Soju and Ariel made her feel old while teaching her everything about filters and hashtags. Shuga was a delight and Silky was loud and fun. Vanjie was… different?

Nina couldn’t really put her finger on it. Vanjie was still loud and hilarious. But something seemed very off.

It was, however, difficult to investigate, as both Silky and A’keria had kind of closed ranks around Vanjie.

They probably thought that Vanjie needed protection from Brooke, even though the Canadian queen was isolating herself from everyone, even Nina.

The last time Brock had reached out to her was weeks ago, as he called her in the middle of the night, sobbing and completely out of it. From what Nina could gather, Brock had drunk dialled Vanjie, only to realise that she was with… someone.

Nina tried to console him, to tell him that maybe he needed to reach out to Vanjie after he had sobered up.

But she knew that he hadn’t done it. In fact, the day after all she got was a text that said

Sorry. Got a bit too drunk last night and was an idiot. Please don’t make a thing out of this.

So Nina didn’t.

She left Brock alone and saw him transform into Brooke Lynn Hytes, current reigning queen. Brooke was flawless and if you didn’t know her you would think that she was doing okay.

But Nina could see the protective layers of ice that she had covered herself in. She saw how Brooke only truly shined on the stage and during Meet & Greet’s.

Nina noticed how the smile would fall from her lips the moment Brooke walked backstage. How the queen would keep to herself and not really participate in any of the shenanigans.

But Nina didn’t know what to do. Brooke had put up an impenetrable wall that would’ve made Trump jealous.

Seeing the heartbreak that Brooke was going through made Nina want to yell at Vanjie.

Except, It was clear that she was hurting too.

It was obvious that her eyes sought out Brooke in every room she entered. Just for a moment. Every single time that Vanjie thought no one was looking, she would search for Brooke.

So what was a soft and cuddly Miss Congeniality, who most of all just wanted her friends to be okay to do? Brooke was out of the question, and getting close to Vanjie seemed almost impossible to-

“Hello, hello, hello Miss Nina. Whadya done being hiding here?” The loud trucker voice startled her out of stupor, making her jump a little in her heels.

She turned around, coming face to face with Vanjie in full drag. Her brunette hair, thigh high boots and sparkly t-shirt dress made her look street-fish.

What she also noted was that Vanjie was alone.

“Biiiitch. You can’t scare an old woman like that!” Vanjie’s laugh sounded like a cross between a dying seagull and an old man having an asthma attack. Which in turn made Nina laugh.

Fucking Vanjie.

They both stopped laughing at the same time, staring at each other. Nina opened her mouth ready to finally broach the subject of a certain moody Canadian, but it was Vanjie who spoke first.

“How is he?” It was said quietly, yet quickly. Vanjie looked slightly surprised, as if she herself was bamboozled over the fact that she had actually asked that question.

It was certainly not what Nina expected.

“He’s…” she didn’t want to out Brock, certainly not to his ex. But lying to Vanjie also seemed out of the question. “...good. Yeah. Good.”

That fooled no one, you idiot.

“Don’t be lying. I know him. He be drinking and smoking like he’s Bianca’s Motherfucking twin. He ain’t right and I think I gone done fucked up…”

“Vanj…”

“I know you his good Judy and I ain’t trying to be starting anything… just… I see him and get emotianat- emotio- I get up in my feelings okay. He doesn't look good, Nina.”

“I know. But I-“

“And then he called me - we ain’t talking for months and he just calls drunk on vodka. What was I ‘posed to do? He had on his sad big eyes, looking like I ate the last bit of that stupid Canadian food he fucking love-“

“Poutine ?”

“Yeah, that Putin shit… He done left me, and then he be calling, at night? That’s some wrong ass shit, Miss Nina. I am trying to move on instead of thinking ‘bout what could’ve been. Bitch left me, so why he moping like a toddler?”

“You guys left each other. You were both scared and not ready. You know this. Stop only blaming him, Vanj.”

“I ain’t blaming him! I am just sayin’... he left me.” Her voice cracked on the last syllable. It made Nina’s heart ache.

These two idiots.

“Maybe you guys should talk with each. You’re not okay, and he is… whatever he is. Maybe you need to clear the air, there’s obviously some unfinished business here.”

“Okay, Miss A’keria. Have you seen that tall glass of Canadian ball busting ballerina? He don’t wanna talk with me. I’ve tried.”

“It’s Brooke. You gotta give her no choice. And come on. You’re Vanessa Vanjie Mateo. Since when have you ever let a little Canadian bacon get in your way”

“Well shit, mama. You’re right.” And with that she turned on her heel, marching down the hall with determined steps towards Brooks room.

_________

Vanjie was a chicken.

Despite her determined steps and iron will, she found herself faltering as she stood outside Brooke’s room.

Could she really do this? Maybe Nina was wrong, maybe she should just forget about all of this.

But then she thought about Brooke’s face, the way that she didn’t really seem happy anymore, and made a quick decision.

She was Miss Motherfucking Vanjie, and she sure as shit didn’t hide away nobody.

Pushing open the door, Vanjie barged in, quickly closing the door after herself, ensuring that they would have no audience for this.

The sudden sound made Brooke look up startled, getting eye contact through the mirror with Vanjie.

Her face went through several emotions in a span of a few seconds - all too quick for Vanjie to identify any of them - before she settled on cold and blank disinterest.

“Oh. It’s you. What do you want?” Vanjie wanted to shiver with the iciness of her tone, as Brooke just kept on blending her purple smokey eyes.

“We got’s to talk.”

“I’ve got nothing to say to you. Please leave”

“No.”

“Vanj. Leave.”

“Nu-uh Mama, we doing this.” Vanjie quickly turned around and locked the door, leaning with her back up against looking right at Brooke.

She knew that Brooke could lift her with a pinky, if she really wanted to move her, but shit, there weren’t a lot of options left.

“Oh. So now you want to talk?” Brooke turned around in her chair, looking Vanjie directly in the eye instead of through the mirror. Her eyes were thunderous and Vanjie wanted to cheer out loud, as it was the most emotion the queen had directed at her since it became official that they had broken up.

“Yeah. I’m done hidin’... So let’s talk.” Crossing her arms in front of her chest, Vanjie looked at Brooke expectantly.

“About what? What could I possibly have to say to you?” Brooke got up from her swivel chair and walked towards Vanjie. She was wearing her signature blonde hair and her purple stepford-wife-kaftan-realness dress was swishing behind her.

Vanjie’s mouth dried up, as she was once again reminded of the beauty that was Brock in full drag. The beauty and grace made Vanjie want to stare at her forever, while also making her tingle with the need to wreck the sheer perfection in front of her.

“No really? What? You want to talk about how everyone is blaming me? What about your little post-it quote? Should we discuss how A’keria and Silky keep giving me the side eye?” Brooke’s voice slowly increased in volume as she walked closer and closer to Vanjie. Towering over the smaller queen.

“No wait… I know. Let’s talk about how I fucking have to stare are your face every day and be reminded of what could’ve been!” Brooke poked Vanjie in the chest her eyes flashing.

“I am done with all of this.”

Vanjie’s heart skipped a beat as her mind processed what Brooke had just said “what could’ve been”, the air electric between them.

“We have a meet & greet in 10 minutes.” Brooke was gorgeous, her blue eyes like a storm, anger collected in the fine lines of her face. “So move.”

“No.” Vanjie stood her ground, the word almost getting caught in her throat, Brooke looking like a hunter.

“Move.”

Brooke stepped forward, and Vanjie was the first one to move, her hand slamming into Brooke’s chest pushing her back slightly

“Oh...” Brooke looked down at the hand, like she couldn’t believe what Vanjie had just done.

Brooke shoved back, Vanjie almost stumbling, and then they were kissing, teeth clicking, lips sliding, hands gripping, tearing, taking and Vanjie wanted to disappear into Brooke.

“You fucking bitch.”

The words were hissed through clenched teeth, as Vanjie grabbed Brooke’s hair, her fingers buried in the blonde wig and pulling, forcing Brooke closer, making her be the aggressor. Brooke was quick to catch on, slamming Vanjie against the door.

“No, you’re the bitch.” Brooke whispered it between kisses.

It was hot and hateful, tender and burning, everything crashing down with the words they could not bring themselves to say out loud. Their bodies telling stories of longing and love, of broken promises and heartbreaks that were still bleeding. Tender stories of what they both so desperately wished they could still have; their swollen lips, gripping fingers and tender jaws an exchange between two wounded people who had no language left, but the most primal of all.

It was Brooke who broke them apart.

Brooke who stood up and turned to the mirror, checking her makeup.

It was Brooke who avoided Vanjie’s eyes as she calmly walked out of the dressing room with the parting words:

“You better fix your makeup, meet & greet starts soon”

Vanjie was left all alone in the dressing room. With a heaving chest, wide eyes and a muddled mind that tried to understand what had just happened.

“Well… shit.”

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #nina west #angst #canon compliant #post break-up #hurt/comfort #notebooks and post its #thankyoumissvanjie #s11

[undeniablyquinn]

Wanna Be Startin' Somethin' || Quinntana

LOCATION → Quinn and Santana’s dorm

TIMEFRAME → Friday, November 3

TRIGGERS → none

WHAT  → They make out and fall asleep in each other’s arms. 

NOTES  →  This is before all the shit that happened. We’re slow af, okay. And our babies are idiots.  

Santana

Santana kicked the door closed behind her with a disgusted sigh, although it was her own fault that she'd just spent the first half of her Saturday night in the computer lab doing homework. She was the one who'd decided that she wanted to forgo her plans to go out tonight to see if she could bait Quinn into another...whatever happened between them the other night. But still. "Did you know," She tossed her bag at the foot of the bed and turned to Quinn with a hand on her hip. "that there are people who spend Saturday night at the library? I didn't even know the library was open on Saturday."

Quinn

"I'm surprised it didn't take you longer to found it out," Quinn says, chuckling softly as she turns around to look at Santana, revealing her laptop and the pile of books in front of her. She hesitates for a moment - it's easier to be flirty when there's a screen protecting you, as it turns out, but then gives Santana a tentative, cautious look, "Didn't you have plans for tonight, anyway? What were you doing in the library?"

Santana

"Working on a project for my marketing class." She raises an eyebrow at the strange way Quinn is looking at her. "If you'll remember, I'm poor and you bit my head off the last time I used your laptop. Even though I managed to un-delete your paper." There's a bit of an awkward pause before she sits on the edge of Quinn's bed, closer to the desk she's sitting at. "Well, I was going to go out, but going out alone is kind of sad, and going out for the reasons I was going out is even more sad. I'd probably end up going home with the first serial killer to compliment my ass." She leaned back on her hands. "What are you doing tonight? Long night with your fancy lawyer words?"

Quinn

"That paper was important and you almost gave me a heart attack . Thanks again, by the way,” Quinn says, laughing anyway. After a second, her expression sobers, and she runs her nails against the desk before her for a moment just to have something to do.  The slightly awkward silence makes her feel uncomfortable but she manages to keep a blank expression. It changes abruptly when Santana makes her laugh and Quinn turns her body toward her so she can fully look at her roommate, "I can't focus so I was actually trying to decide if I want to go out and run or stay and watch a movie. Both are good options when I need to fall asleep but can't. AND, just so you know, If you ever bring home a serial killer, my ghost will find you wherever you end up at and will kill you again," she says, and does add her best Scary Quinn look to make it clear she's not kidding.

Santana

A slow grin spread across Santana's face. A movie. Perfect. "I would never bring anyone back here, councilor." She teased. "You'd yell at them through the door that they'd better not throw my dress on the floor after they take it off." Making herself comfortable on her roommate's bed, she slipped her shoes off and threw them over in the general direction of her bed, checking to see if Quinn's head would explode. "You're not going for a run, it's freezing, and running at night is a good way to get yourself killed. So, what're we watching, and where's the popcorn?"

Quinn

Quinn thinks she would want to yell at them just for taking Santana's dress off, but she doesn't say anything and a second later she's too distracted watching her bed being invaded that she even forgets it.  "I've told you to stay out of my personal space which very much includes my bed. I'm glad to see that you're willing to listen to reason," she says, dryly, and then grabs her laptop. "I'm feeling nice, so you can choose something from my list." She tries to sound annoyed, but looks mostly amused when she takes a microwave popcorn out of her food stash and goes out to make it.

Santana

"If I behaved all the time, you would get bored, and you know it." She leans over to look at the stack of dvds underneath the--well, it's honestly Quinn's desk. She never uses it.  "Plus, I'm hoping if I annoy you enough, you'll make good on that offer to gag me." Her voice is barely above a whisper, and she's mostly saying it to herself, but if Quinn heard it before she slipped out, fine. After picking out the most boring looking thing she could find, she changed into some shorts quickly, puts the dvd in Quinn's laptop, and hopped back onto her spot at the end of the bed.

Quinn

They have watched movies together before so Quinn doesn't know why it feels different this time but it does, and she doesn't come back to their dorm as soon as the microwave is done with its job just to take her time to process this. She barely hides a smile when she comes back and sees Santana sitting in her bed with an expectant look.  "I didn't know you loved popcorn that much," she teases then, because this is her favorite thing to do with Santana so far - the key word here being so far, she guesses. Her dress is pretty comfortable, but it is far from something a person should wear to lay down in bed, and so she hands Santana the popcorn and disappear into the bathroom for a minute before joining her in bed. "What did you choose?"

Santana

"I don't really like popcorn. It gets stuck in your teeth, and your hands get all greasy." She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. "Besides, it's got the same consistency of flavored packing peanuts. The only decent popcorn is at the movies, and you've gained 12 pounds after eating the stick and a half of butter they put on it." Her eyes followed Quinn carefully around the room until she disappeared and she tapped her foot anxiously. She wasn't really sure how she was going to go about making a move, but she knew she was going to have to be the one to do it. She went ahead and pressed the play button while Quinn was in the bathroom and pulled the lightweight blanket on the edge of the bed over her legs. "Uh, Sense and Sensibility." She read the cover of the dvd. "Is that Kate Winslet? What the fuck is with that wig? Who did this to her?"

Quinn

Quinn sort of snorts and giggles at the same time. "I don't know, I think this hair style is pretty. " Santana looks like she's going to protest, but Quinn shushes her before she says anything and they watch the movie in silence for a long moment. When she leans over to put the popcorn bowl back down - she had grabbed it but quickly gave up on having any of it after Santana's comment, her arm brushes against San's, and she chuckles, shyly.

Santana

Her goal had been to pick out something boring, so neither of them would be into it, and this movie was starting out to be just as dull as the cover had appeared. Santana was about to comment on how stupidly dramatic it already was when she felt Quinn's arm brush against hers. Their skin had barely touched, but you'd think she'd been touched by a live wire with the way her whole arm was tingling. She took a deep breath and held it, waiting until whatever that was calmed down before she leaned closer to whisper, as though the weren't the only people in the room. "Have you ever noticed that these movies are always set in England?" She turned her head to look at Quinn fully. "It's like, it's not even a big country, why did they have so much fucking drama?"

Quinn

Quinn sees Santana leaning closer from the corner of her eye, and for a second she's sure her roommate is going to kiss her. When it doesn't happen, Quinn can't honestly say whether she's disappointed or relieved. "Shh, don't make me laugh right now," she says then, in a strangled voice that is barely holding back on her laughter. "One of my favorite characters is suffering right in front of me, laughing would be mean." She pauses the movie as she says that, bumping Santana gently in the side after it. "Why do I let you do stuff with me? God."

Santana

Santana playfully gasped when she was nudged, acting like it was much harder than it was, that she needed to hold on to Quinn's leg to keep from falling over. As she returned upright, she didn't remove her leg from the blonde's knee, giving her an impish grin. "I think it's because you secretly like me."

Quinn

"Like is pushing it. More like, tolerate," she says, as dryly as she can, her eyes narrowing playfully. She glances over where Santana is touching her and when she looks back at the brunette,  her eyes flit to her mouth for a second.  "I like your face though. It's kind of pretty. Sometimes. Well, maybe a lot of the time."

Santana

Santana didn't miss the quick glance to her lips, taking it as encouragement. "Just kind of pretty?" She asked, narrowing her own eyes in response. "Well, if that's all I'm getting, I'll just take my fine ass out. And when I'm abducted and murdered, I want you to remember that it was because you just thought I was kind of pretty."

Quinn-

"Make a move? Is it all you're getting?" Quinn shakes her head, slightly annoyed, and of course the Fabray eyebrow makes an appearance. "You sound like one of those football players. If you were aiming for giant without a brain, congratulations. " A lot of her time is spent bitch glaring at stupid boys like that around Campus, but she's obviously not going to take it out on Santana right now. One of her hands reaches out then and she leans closer to whisper, "Now, channel the polite girl I was messaging two days ago or I will take your dramatic fine backside off my bed myself. "

Santana

The comparison of herself to a bunch of meat heads struck a nerve, and she cleared her throat while removing her hand from Quinn's knee. "Funny." She muttered, leaning forward to start the movie again, and grabbed the bowl of popcorn while she was at it. "Your wish is my command, Princess. I'll be nice, keep my hands to myself, and watch this lame-ass movie."

Quinn

Quinn looks over sharply at that, opens her mouth to respond but no words come out. Maybe it's better that way, if they can't even manage to have a first kiss without fighting, this is clearly never working. This reasoning could satisfy her if it wasn't for the urge to have Santana touching her somewhere, anywhere right now.  It's overwhelming, as is the silence between them, so Quinn blows a frustrated breath and shuts the laptop, leveling Santana with a look that would make most sane people stop whatever they were doing to upset her. "Princess? You call every girl that, don't you?"

Santana

"Your insistence that I'm a womanizer is getting a little old, Quinn." Santana kept her eyes straight forward as she spoke. "I've had exactly two girlfriends in my whole life and the last girl I slept with was over a month ago and I'm pretty sure I freaked her out because I got jealous when she got herself into a relationship like immediately after, because it was 'just a hookup' for her, so..." She quickly glanced at Quinn out of the corner of her eye, but she wasn't going to give her the satisfaction. "And besides, the only girl I've called Princess lately was Rachel." And with this, she turned to look at her, a snarky grin on her face. "Also known as the object of your affection. Maybe you'd take getting flirted with better if I was her."

Quinn

She shakes her head, annoyed, frustrated, exhausted, and then just kisses Santana because this girl needs to shut up, she just really needs to shut up. Quinn immediately regrets it, but she can't just stop now and risk Santana thinking she's not a good kisser. Not because she's afraid Santana won't want to kiss her again, but she can just imagine all the teasing this is going to cause. It's far from a gentle and easy kiss - and she bites down on Santana's lips hard enough for it to almost hurt - but after a few moments it sort of grows deep and longing anyway.  She pulls away when her knee nudges against Santana's thigh though because they should breathe. Breathing is important.

Santana

Santana half expects Quinn to slap her, and honestly at this point, that's kind of what she wants, because why is this girl so hot and cold? But then her lips are on hers and Santana's still got her eyes open for a good two to three seconds before her brain catches up to what was going on and she has the wherewithal to even kiss her back, right about the same time as Quinn bites her and a low groan forms in the back of her throat. She pushes her fingers up into Quinn's hair to cup the back of her neck as she deepens the kiss, trying in vain to get any closer to her than she can right now, because this isn't enough. All too suddenly, Quinn's pulling away, and she tries her best to stop her, leaning forward to follow her face, but it doesn't work. Dazed and out of breath, she raised an eyebrow at Quinn, her slightly reddened, swollen lips causing Santana some serious discomfort low in her stomach. "So that happened." She whispered, her voice coming out oddly hoarse. "And for the record, that's what I meant when I told you I wanted you to shut me up."

Quinn

There's a feeling in the pit of her stomach that Quinn isn't exactly sure how to interpret. It can be fear - she may be the one who kissed Santana, but that doesn't mean her concerns about it are gone - or it can be the fact that she hasn't been touched in nine months and has clearly missed it.  Either way, it isn't often that she meets someone she wants to be intimate with and it's hard to resist, however little she can offer in return. At this thought she looks up to Santana, her eyes just searching her face for any signs that there are expectations to be met, she ends up laughing because Santana looks... cute. And she has never thought it about her before. Has anyone, really? "Yeah, shut up," she mumbles then, and lays down on the pillows behind them, pulling Santana over her after a second. This isn't a invite for more, really, she's just trying to be in a comfortable position, but if more happens, Quinn won't really mind.

Santana

Santana's eyes follow Quinn as she lays down, a bemused smile on her face. She didn't know what was funny. Maybe it was the bizarre flip flop of emotions, which honestly summed up their entire relationship. They both ran very hot and cold, and much as she liked to  tease Quinn for being bipolar, she had a pretty short fuse herself, and her moods varied sometimes daily. Which is why it was almost a relief that the cold didn't seem to have lasted very long, for this time anyway. She allowed herself to be pulled down, and she propped herself up on one arm. "You can't say shut up and expect me not to tell you to make me after that." The urge to keep touching Quinn won out and she ran her free hand up the other girl's arm until their fingers slipped between each other. "And I don't mean that to sound like a brainless neanderthal, either. I may not be polite, but I'm still lightyears ahead of those knuckle draggers." She proved her point by lifting Quinn's hand to her lips and pressing gentle kisses on the knuckles. "And I don't appreciate my honor being called into question."

Quinn

Her teeth closes around a perfectly pink lip, but then Santana keeps talking and she grins. "You're right, they don't have a chance of getting better. Now you..." And Quinn's look is somewhat filthy, even though she's clearly teasing, when she pulls Santana closer and bits down hard on her lip. "You can be easily fixed with some discipline."

Santana

Her stare is fixated on Quinn's lip between her teeth, but when she looks up, as she's being pulled forward, the expression on Quinn's face caught her breath slightly. Thankfully, it didn't seem like the one kiss was where this was going to end, and she happily moved closer, gripping the blonde's hip hard as she spoke. "You wanna punish me?" She let out a short chuckle as her lips explored Quinn's neck, collarbone, shoulder, wherever she could reach. "I should warn you, I fight back." She punctuates her point with a light bite.

Quinn

There's a small hitch in Quinn's breathing when she feels Santana's lips on her and she grabs her hair; kissing every bit of skin her lips can reach as well.  The feeling of Santana's teeth around her skin sends an unexpected run of pleasure up her spine and the smallest of moans slips from her lips without warning. "I should have known you would make things difficult," she mumbles, trying hard to sound like she's capable of forming sentences right now. "I suppose I should warn you that well behaved girls get a lot more out of me than the ones who won't collaborate." But even as she says it, Quinn gives her another slow and deep kiss.

Santana

"God." Santana sighed, the vibrations from Quinn's moan against her lips sent electricity pulsing through every part of her. She didn't bother responding, wasn't even sure she actually heard what was said, she just wanted to get closer. She needed more. Rolling atop Quinn, she positioned her knee between her legs, unable to stop the very embarrassing moan that followed from the contact with Quinn's thigh, which was thankfully muffled between their mouths. It had been a long time that she'd felt this much from just kissing a girl and she was feeling a little light headed. She lifted her head slightly to both breathe and take another look at Quinn's swollen lips, which she ran her thumb over lightly. "You're so beautiful." She whispered, extending the pass of her thumb to grace the hollow of Quinn's cheek and down her jawline. She bit her own lip shyly, and ducked her head back to Quinn's neck before adding. "I had no idea I wanted this as badly as I do."

Quinn

Nothing unravels Quinn more quickly than being called beautiful when it sounds genuine like that. It sends her head spinning, this level of honest and trust that they have between them right now, and all she can do is lock her eyes with Santana, swallowing hard. When she feels the brunette on her neck again, she actually shivers. Part of Quinn craves the look in Santana's eyes that she just saw, she wants more of that, but the rest of her just craves this closeness they have.  It's new. It's thrilling, and terrifying. "Oh, San" she moans quietly then, because she feels Santana's thigh tentatively rolling backwards. It's almost like she's asking for permission.

Santana

Feeling Quinn tremble beneath her, Santana curses under her breath. Why haven’t they been doing this the whole time they’ve lived together? Why were so many nights and weekends wasted lounging around reading gossip magazines, watching Netflix, and throwing around teasing insults when they could have been spent like this? She doesn’t even hesitate at Quinn’s request, rolling her hips against her thigh. It wasn’t nearly enough, and in fact it just made the dull ache between her legs grow to an almost unbearable throb, but she wasn’t about to start dry humping Quinn’s leg. “Tell me what you want.” She whispered, a tremble noticeable in her voice. “I don’t want to— but God, I want you so much.”

Quinn

There's a "you, squirming beneath me while I touch you everywhere but where you need me the most" in the tip of her tongue, but when Quinn opens her mouth all she does is suck on Santana's earlobe before pulling away enough to look her in the eyes. She feels like she isn't capable of thinking clearly right now but she tries to very hard. "I want you to kiss me all night," she pauses, and she's sure Santana knows there's a but coming. Quinn studies her face searching for any sign that she isn't liking the direction this is going, and then continues, "But I think we should keep things... Easy tonight." It isn't clear to Quinn when she started worrying about hurting Santana's feelings, but she knows that she does when she wraps one arm around the brunette's body to hold her in place and says, "Nothing personal, I'm just tired. And I'm sure it isn't necessary to explain why I want to be in my best shape for this."

Santana

Santana bit the inside of her lip, averting her eyes momentarily while she adjusted her leg placement. "I know you were probably raised to always make a good first impression, but since when do you need to be in top shape to make out?" She asked, raising her eyebrow jokingly. The arm around her back prevented her from rolling off completely, but she shimmied down to rest her chin on Quinn's chest. "You're right. We don't need to hurry. We live together. It's not like we don't have time."

#psl

[penelope1730]

The Molly Diaries ll, Chapter 15

***Warning: The beginning of this chapter is verbally graphic and contains disturbing violence of a vicious, sexual crime. The information is important to the case Sherlock and John are solving, so use your discretion while reading. You can always skip to the second half of this chapter if it's too upsetting, and get enough understanding of what's taking place.

You can read previous chapters on AO3

                                                         Chapter 15:

                                                  ENKI

                                                   ~*~

A penny for my thoughts, oh no I'll sell them for a dollar; They're worth so much more after I'm a goner; And maybe then you'll hear the words I been singin' Funny when you're dead how people start listenin'

                                        04 July 1993

 11:30 PM

           Standing in the shadows, the tall, young man with jet black hair and eyes of amber that sometimes glowed like gem stones swirled with mud, watched her carefully make her way in his direction. She was near exquisite, her lithe beauty and petite frame made her seem almost mystical, very much like a creature he saw in a fantasy film when he was a kid. She would be perfect, if only brunette. Not just any brown, of course, but warm chestnut, with streaks of gold and auburn, that flowed like billows of silk in the sunlight and wind.

           She should have dyed her hair like he asked, but like so many others, she couldn’t escape her vanity, even for such a young thing. It was disappointing how quickly they turn from sweet little birds to demanding bitches, thinking they’re better than him. He would have dyed her hair if there were more time, but time was something he didn’t have. The full moon waited for no one and neither would his master. Yes, it was disappointing, but she’d have to do, this little fill-in for what he really wanted. He should have bought a wig, damn it. Why hadn’t he thought of that?

           “Oi! Sarah, over here,” the man hidden in the shadow of the trees shouted softly. He’d been waiting for about thirty minutes and was becoming anxious, worried she hadn’t been able to sneak out like she thought. It had to be tonight, he reminded himself, pushing down his frustration, which teetered on anger. The little bitches always did that – say one thing, but do another. Fucking bird was a cock tease.

           “Why’re there in the trees?” Sarah stopped and squinted toward the thicket, hesitant in her approach, making sure no one was watching.

           “Can’t expect me to stand out in the open now, can ya? And, you shouldn’t either. Someone might see ya, daft girl. Whatsa matter with you?”

           “I checked. Besides, do you like my new dress?” Sarah asked, as she twirled and sauntered like a runway model toward him. “Wore it just for you,” she taunted playfully, bending over slightly and biting her lower lip. “I feel like Janet Jackson.” She tossed her head back, giggling, letting her long blonde tresses fall over her shoulders.

           He smelled the innocence of her budding, wet sex as she moved closer, the pale skin of her bare legs shimmering against the night, the hem of the dress inching up her thighs, and he couldn’t help but salivate at the way her tiny nipples stood at attention through the thin fabric, just waiting for him to bite and ravage. “Come ‘er, you. You’re prettier than Janet Jackson, ya know that, right?”

           He grabbed her wrist and pulled her along side his body, holding her close, running one finger down her arm, then inched his way to her waist, slowly moving closer to her breast.

          Sarah let out a faint gasp and suddenly felt self-conscious, wanting to pull away, but he held her tight, his lips and tongue trailing kisses on her neck, then nipped at her mouth. “It’s okay,” he murmured, “I won’t do anything you don’t want.”

          Before she could answer, his mouth covered hers, and he felt a power rise within him when she moaned and moved against his body. His mind spun thinking about the things he was going to do to her; how she would struggle, twist, and recoil against his strength. He imagined her stifled cries, and gasps for breath as the gag pulled taught at her mouth, twisted and knotted against her teeth - her wrists and legs bound to the bed. He loved their fear, how it lingered on their skin, and settled in their eyes. It was so superb that one day he considered maybe having one for a snack. She was his sweet little possession and, in the end, would submit to his will.

           “See,” he whispered gently, pulling away, watching her blush and trying to hide her face in her long blonde locks. “This is what people do when they love each other. They kiss…and other things.”

           “I…I’ve never kissed a boy before,” Sarah admitted bashfully. “Was it…was I okay?”

           “You’re perfect… The girl I’ve been saving myself for. And, you’ve saved yourself for me, right, Sarah?”

            Relief rushed over Sarah, causing a confession of her own. “I'm a…what I mean is…I’ve never done it.”

           “It’s okay, little bird, it’s okay. I’ve got all the time in the world,” he offered reassuringly, rubbing her back dangerously close to her buttocks. “But, I gotta surprise for you. You want to see?”

           “What is it?” She asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

           “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise. We gotta go this way, through Hanson’s field.”

          The tall, dark haired man began walking through the thicket of trees toward an open field when he realized Sarah wasn’t following. He turned around to find her hesitant, looking frightened. He liked fear, thrived on it, but not yet…she wasn’t suppose to be afraid yet. This wasn’t part of the plan.

           “What’s a matter duck? You don’t wanna see your surprise?”

            “I do,” Sarah answered timidly, “but…it’s haunted…old Hanson’s field. The ghosts haunt the house at night too.”

           The man looked at her sympathetically before bursting into muffled laughter. “Are you right in the ‘ead? You actually believe that rubbish--”

           “It’s not funny! Joshua McKnight heard it…the screams of ghosts! He said anyone that goes near that place is a tosser.”

           “Shush! Keep your voice down, ya ninny. You want someone to ‘ear us?” He strode closer to her, slowly, lowering his head and offered a seductive pout. “Do you think I'm a tosser?”          

           “N…no…but…I think…I can’t stay gone long. My mum, she’ll know I’ve snuck out. She always checks before she goes to bed.”

           “Right then. We wouldn’t want your mum finding out,” he said, moving closer. “You haven’t told her about us, have you?”

           “God, no! She’d shite her knickers if she knew I was seeing an older boy.”

           “You sure you’ve told no one? Not even your friend, the one you’re always with…what’s her name?”

           “Molly? She thinks Joshua fancies me. Everyone does.”

          That was her name. The girl with long, chestnut hair and streaks of gold and auburn. The one he’d been watching for a month, the one he really wanted. He listened to Sarah go on about something, but he wanted her to drown her out, or slap her, whatever it took to get her to shut the fuck up. His mind was fixed on the little fox, with big brown eyes…how she looked in her bathing suit at the beach, her tiny tits firm and perky. When she smiled, her whole face lit up, with dimples…they added something to her rosy cheeks, forcing him to control his thoughts when he imagined her bound and gagged. Goddamn it, Sarah’s endless droning was ruining this for him.

         “But, that’s why I'm on restriction. Molly’s nan caught us.” Sarah took a deep breath and looked at the man. “They treat her like she’s a child and don’t let her do anything. Well, I am older, so I suppose that’s something. Makes me more mature, don’t ya think?”

          “What?”

          “Molly’s nan caught us with a spliff. That’s why I had to sneak out.”

          “Yeah, tough break,” he hesitated, distracted by his thoughts. “So, why don’t ya get Molly to sneak out with you another night? I can fix ‘er up with a mate.

Of course the man wasn’t serious, but he was hooked, needed to know all about her, and Sarah had to tell him.

          “Like that’ll ever happen. Not.”

          “Maybe we could convince her? Does she live close?”

         “Yeah, cross the field and down a couple miles in East Dean. She’s posh, lives on a big estate…’er dad’s some kind of doctor or scientist. I always forget. The only time she’s out of her Nana’s sight is when she goes riding.”

          “A horse? What else does she do?”

          “Why’d ya want to know?”

          “Because she’s your friend and boyfriend’s should know all about their girlfriend,” he explained quietly, his fingers twisting playfully in her hair. He could barely wait to grab that hair and ride her like a maverick, until the little bitch was a broken in whore.

          “I'm your girlfriend?” Sarah blushed and felt excited he wanted her. The girl who boys her own age teased unmercifully. If only her friends could see her now and the older boy who loved her, they'd be so jealous.

          “Of course you are, you crazy bird. Come ‘er, I brought you a treat to drink. I mixed it myself.”

          The elation he felt at how quickly she drank from the flask excited him, made him hard, and knew it was only a matter of minutes before it took effect. Greedy little thing, he thought, as he watched her continue to gulp down half the bottle, before grabbing it from her hand. He didn’t want her to pass out, or have to carry her to the house. He wanted her awake, but just woozy enough so she couldn’t fight. That was the fun of it, after all…seeing the terror in her eyes as he had his way, gave her what she deserved. She was the sacrifice and should feel honored, even though he knew she wouldn’t. They never do.

         “You shouldn’t gulp it down like that…or make yourself drunk in one go,” he told her, as she began to sway, holding on to him for balance.

         “I feel…funny.”

         “I know…it’s strong, an’ you just drank a bit too much. Let’s walk it off.”

Placing his arm around her waist, the man guided her sluggish steps through the field of knee high corn, toward the abandoned farm house.

           “I don’t want to go there,” Sarah slurred, panic rising in her chest, as she tried to pull away and go back. “I don’t…don’t feel so good.”

           God, she was making this hard, he thought. They should have been at the house by now. He took a small torch out of his pocket and flashed it three times at the house. It was the signal to wait, that he was on his way.

           Sarah slumped to the ground, and stared up at the slice of the full moon not obscured by rain clouds. “There’s a couple of moons…Joey…I can’t…”

           He knelt down beside her, slapped her so hard it stung his hand…even though he laughed thinking she now saw stars to go along with the ‘double’ moon. “I fucking told you never to say my name, Sarah! Why do you make me do things like this to you,” he scolded, as he pulled her hair and shoved her head hard into the ground…her small cries choked in her throat.

          “You have to make it up to me now, you know that,” he sneered, running his right hand up the inside of thigh, snaking it under the hem of her dress. “I didn’t want to do it like this, Sarah, but you’ve left me no choice. We could have had so much fun the other way. No, stop it now…stop fighting…just relax.”

           He reached into his jacket pocket and took out a pair of gloves, along with a small clear bottle of rubbing alcohol. “This is gonna be a bit cold, but you need to be washed down,” he said calmly, pouring the liquid over her bare skin.

            “Shush…you’re making too much noise,” he said quietly, taking the tie out of his pocket, binding her wrists behind her back.

           “Stop crying…I haven’t even started,” he snapped, slapping her again, tugging the dress over her head, and leaving it there so he wouldn’t have to see her ugly, crying face. It wasn’t the face he wanted anyway, he decided…it was the other one. Oh, if only it were Molly in the moonlight.

            Taking a sharp, scalpel-like knife out of his pocket, he cut away her panties and climbed on top…imagining what it would be like with his brown haired beauty, how she would feel, the sounds she’d make, her large brown eyes filled with fear, pleading with him as his hands tightened around her neck. He wondered if she’d gurgle as the life was squeezed out of her tiny body, and if she’d gasp or cough when he allowed her to breath again? Oh, God, how desperate he was to see the horror settle in her eyes, as he did it over and over again, so she’d know she caused this to happen. He’d have to plan carefully for her…it’d be another six months at least, but he could wait. He’d get her in the end, no matter how long it took.

           He carved the chattel mark for Whore Trade into Sarah’s shoulder – a reversed C with one line slashed through the center – and watched the blood trickle down her arm, his other hand covering her mouth to stifle her cries. She was worth at least ten thousand pounds, he thought. Maybe more, since he didn’t fuck her. Virgins always brought a premium, even if she was a bit old at fifteen.

           Sarah continued to sob, her arms flailing as she struggled out of the tie that bound her wrists, frantically pulling the dress off her face, while choking and gasping for breath. She felt the sting of his fist punch her on the jaw, as the weight of his body on her chest left her heaving until she vomited the undigested alcohol over both of them.

           “Fucking bitch!” The man yelled, wiping away the splatters from his face, jumping off her prone body to tear off his jacket and shirt. “Goddamn, filthy little cunt!” He turned around to kick her, only to see her run across the field. “Get back here,” he hissed under his breath and shot off after her. God, she was fast, he thought, even drugged.

Up ahead he saw the flashing of light, another man had come into the field. “She’s running,” he yelled, “go after her!”

Both men, from either side, chased her through the field, watching her stumble, until the heavy set man lunged, causing her to trip and fall.

           “Fuckin’ bitch can run,” the fat man leaned over, gasping for breath, his hands resting on his knees.

           “Oh, fuck!"

           “Whatsa matter,” Joey asked, stopping to catch his breath.

           “She ain’t movin’.”

           “Course she’s not movin. Fuckin’ bitch is pissed and drugged. Let’s get ‘er up.”

           ‘No, she’s bleedin’…from the ‘ead.”

           "What!?" Joey dropped next to Sarah and saw her head had smashed against a large rock when she fell. He felt for a pulse, first at her neck and then her wrist. Nothing. “Jesus Christ! She’s fuckin’ dead, you moron! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

                                              ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

 08 February 2016

 12:38 PM

           “Sherlock. Sherlock.” John leaned over his friend, shaking his shoulder, while feeling a bit guilty about waking him from some much needed sleep. He was used to Sherlock thriving off of adrenaline during cases, but this time it involved Molly, and sleep, or even eating, was something he did very little of for the past six weeks.

           Sherlock slowly opened his eyes, and chewed on his lower lip. “John.”

           John Watson sat back down in the seat opposite of him, and picked up the case file on the fold down table. “I hated to wake you, mate, but we’ll be landing in about thirty minutes.”

           “I wasn’t sleeping. Just doing some work in my mind palace. He must have groomed her for sometime, John. Got her to trust him….lured her into his trap like a spider.”

           “Wha…what are you going on about?”

           “Sarah… Did you read over those case files?”

           “Yes. It’s horrific. But, who’s Sarah?”

           “Molly gave it to me…a Christmas present.”

           “This case?”

           “Hmm, yes. Cold case from Lestrade, he was going to give it to me anyway. Naturally, I figured it out, didn’t take long, but Molly and I did a bit of investigating a while back, so I could tie up some loose ends. She didn’t let it go.”

           “Molly?”

           “She found a link between that case and another one that washed up on shore last summer. She wrote about it, in her diary…planned on asking me, but forgot.”

           “So, are you saying she was kidnapped because she found the person who did this?”

Sherlock drank down the last bit of his cold coffee, and leaned forward to stretch his back. “Partly, I suspect.”

           “This case is over fifty years old,” John scoffed, still not understanding. “It can’t be the same person.”

           “No, it’s not.”

           “So, you’re thinking a copy cat?”

           “Not a person, but an organization that lives on.”

           “For stealing babies? Black market adoptions?”

           “Whatever, whoever, is needed. Human slavery is a multi-billion dollar industry, John. Did you know a British infant sells for twenty-five thousand American dollars or more? A virgin bride between the ages of ten and thirteen sell on the trade market for about fifteen thousand. The sale price goes down the older she is, but revenue is made quickly when she’s introduced to prostitution.”

           “Jesus!” John gasped, swallowing hard to keep down the bile rising in his throat. He’d spent too many years working by Sherlock’s side to feel ignorant of criminal atrocities, but this…this was so much more than he wanted to think about. “Oh my God, was Molly…you know…”

           “What?”

           “Pregnant?”

           “No.”

           John studied his friend and knew Sherlock wasn’t open to talking about personal things, especially when it regarded his relationship with Molly. “You’re sure? Because, you know--”

           “Of course I'm sure. Unlike you, John, I think I’d know if my wife was pregnant.”

           “Your wife!?”

           “What?”

            Looking down at the folder on the table in front of him, John absentmindedly flipped through it’s pages. “You said, ‘I think I’d know if my wife was pregnant.’ So…you’re married…?”

           “No,” Sherlock answered with a half-hearted scoff, putting an end to John's questioning. “Now listen, the day Molly and I investigated in Hastings, she got the medical records for these women in the hospital archives, while I interviewed a man who was a suspect in the death of Eleanor Spalding. He was a young man at the time, and eventually cleared of all charges.

           “But, the records attendant at the hospital…their files must have been flagged,” Sherlock paused, his voice drifting as though thinking out loud. “All he’d have to do is make a phone call, let the voice on the other end know the files were pulled.”

           “Did you check the phone records? See who he might have called?”

Sherlock recklessly waved his hand, dismissing the idea. “It doesn’t matter. Whatever number he called was destroyed immediately afterward.”

           “So, they – whoever they are – ordered her kidnapping?”

           “Think of it as a convergence of events…much earlier than anticipated. It wasn’t the full moon until the 22nd.”

           “I don’t understand.”

           “Sarah. He works in six month gaps. On the full moon – symbolic for pregnancies, the womb, womanhood, mating, and so on. He thinks himself God-like, empowered to do his master’s bidding. They’re his sacrifice to Enki.”

           “Sherlock, I'm trying to follow, but who the hell is Sarah or…Enki?”

           “Honestly, John, don’t you ever read?”

John sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, taking deep breaths to quell his mounting frustration. “Who is Sarah?”

           “She was Molly’s best friend…murdered at age fifteen in Hanson’s field. It surrounds the house where we found Molly. But, Sarah isn’t who he wanted…although I suspect he never intended to murder her. She was far too valuable, in terms of her market resale.”

           “Christ. Resale, she was a child. How…how do you know this?”

           “Because all his victims were brunettes.”

           “You’re saying he wanted---”

           “Molly. She was his original target, but couldn’t get to her. A week after Sarah’s funeral, Molly was sent to boarding school in Switzerland for her final three years. Her father was doing research there, so it was easy to visit for holiday. Afterward, they did a bit of traveling and she went into University. Her visits home were brief, the longest being when her father was dying.”

           “So, he lost interest…”

           “He lost touch, until recently.”

           “Then you know…who it is?”

           “Yes. Just need a bit of proof. Mycroft’s had surveillance on the ground since the other day. Keeping an eye on things until we arrived.”

           “Where are we going? You never said.”

           Sherlock leaned back in the leather seat, and looked out the window as the jet made it’s descent. “How’s your Portuguese, John?”

#the molly diaries ll #my fic #ongoing #ao3 #chapter 15 #enki