#I'm so whipped for Evie okay

[stargirlwrites]

Little star sinner ~

-> churchy sub Jungkook x f. Dom reader

-> sinner f. reader and church boy Jungkook

Warnings -> smut - virginity lost- car sex- oral inside church storage closet- pain kink- big b00bs- mommy kink- edging- unprotected sex- riding- whiny koo- edging- scratching- crying during sex- blow job- handjob- nipple play- huge religious topics- its kinda messed up but everything is consent given. - age gap (Jungkook is 6 years older)

• kinda just smut with a bit of fluff at the end <3 •

*the "f." Means female reader btw just in case you're new here !! ~ *

☆ ------ ︻╦╤─ ҉ -¨ * ‧₊˚*♡ * *” ♡. ♡ ------ ☆

"Oh my.. no.. its too much p-please oh no" tears escaped Jungkooks eyes as he felt all the pleasure you were providing him, but he still couldn't back away. He just needed to cum inside your mouth, he needed this.

Your knees were definitely bruising from the hard floor of the storage closet inside the church. Your throat pulsing and tongue moving on Jungkooks dick was probably the best thing you've ever felt.

"You almost close baby?" You say as you take a breath of air while stroking his cock. You felt so in control. Well.. maybe because you were in control. You were only 19 yet you had this 25 year old Virgin man wrapped around your finger, how could you not feel powerful.

Jungkook shivered at the feeling of your lip snake bites, smiley, and tongue piercings gliding over his cock while you sucked and slurped all of him.

"M' I'm g-going to-" he couldn't even finished his sentence before you took him out of your mouth. He opened his eyes and looked down at you... smirking. He saw nothing but pure evil.

"N-no. Please I need to...." he couldn't even think of words. You got him so whipped for you. Tears rolling down his cheeks as his thighs shaked.

"Its 1: 57 pm silly. Bible study starts at 2 pm we need to hurry before mommy and daddy starts wondering where their youngest most precious son is doing. You wouldn't want them to know you were about to cum in my mouth in the churchs storage closet now would you?" Your words were pure venom. He couldn't believe you for a second but then he almost remembered he couldn't underestimate the chokehold the devil has around unwell people.

He just nodded and picked up his church slacks, he re did his tie and patted himself down so no flint was on him. He looked at you.. the way you were dressed. He knew the churchs message was to come as you are so you can leave with the lord in your heart but he was convinced not even the highest power can save you.

"__, I uh.. you should try shopping for more church appropriate clothing. Not in a b-bad way of course but.. this is how I get distracted.."

he pointed at you. The black crop top that showed 98% of your breast. The ripped baggy jeans with huge holes that can show your fishnets. Your tattoos on full display and all of your piercings intact on your body. You didn't even wear a bra for crying out loud he and anybody else can clearly see the nipple piercings. Your beat up converse with what looked like devil worshiping symbols written on them with what seems like black and red pen.

"How cute, blaming the way I dress and look for you being a filthy little sinner hmm? Wasn't it you who got a boner by me just removing my jacket? Wasn't it you who touched yourself looking at me as if i didn't notice while wearing a damn rosary inside a church?"

Jungkook was on the verge of crying. He felt disgusted of himself. He feels like evil has taken control over him. Tears forming inside his eyes and chest heaving up and down while you speak.

"Darling don't cry, it's okay to love yourself and make sure you feel good hm? Don't you think Bible study can wait? You wanna become a man instead of ready the same boring book baby?"

Gosh he hated you. He hated himself. Jungkook hated that your words turned him on. Hated that you were such a man eater. He looked at the cross hanging from his neck, he prayed and prayed days and days for god to save him but evil has consumed all his will power. Prayed and begged god to just make him stop touching himself to the thought of you, but he couldn't stop. He needed more, he needed you.

"p-please" was all he said as you smirked and took his hand and led him out the church.

It was like his life flashed before his eyes because next thing he knows he's in your light marijuana smelling car. It wasn't that big but it could fit at least 3 people in the back. You had a blanket in the back seat of your car so at least that was something.

"Are we leaving or.." he looked at you and your pants were already off.

"Of course not silly" you giggled, looking deep into his eyes for a split second. He could've swore he just saw the most beautiful angle and the most seducing demon at the same time.

"Take your clothes off for me kookie" you attached your lips to his as he kissed back, also not hesitating to undress himself for you. He was completely undressed, he tugged his boxers down and revealed his throbbing angry cock leaking with pre cum.

He was so sensitive the smallest bit of friction made him moan into your mouth. He can feel your smirk on his lips, taking your tongue out from his throat you grab his length and tug on it making him whine pretty loudly. What you did next made him cry and roll his eyes back. Gosh his sounds made you even wetter.

You slapped his cock, a drop of pre cum flying off onto Jungkooks cheek.

"You like when I slap your cock around baby? Love it when I make you feel good hmm." Jungkooks mind was going left and right. All he could think of was you, it's like you put a spell on him.

"Please.. I need you so bad. I'll do a-anything just give it to me.. please." He was at full submission and you loved it. He loved it too. He wanted you so had. He needed your pussy around his cock. He needed to be nasty with you.

"Of course baby. You've been so good you deserve it" Jungkook sat down in the middle of the back seat, his legs spreaded apart as his cock was screaming for you. You hovered over his dick, slowly sinking down so your wet pussy lips were sliding on his tip.

"F-fuck! Yes please I need it mommy!" As unexpected as his pleads were it made you wanna ride him like there was no tomorrow.

You sink down on his cock and felt the nice stretch he was giving you. Jungkook didn't know how to react so the first thing he did was full on cry. You looked at his face and saw tears rolling down his cheeks, his cheeks also a pretty pink color. You took his full length inside you didn't move to let him get used to the feeling.

"F-fuck your dick is so big kookie" you can feel his tip deep inside you.

"You feel so good and warm. Feels so good.. oh my.. it's t-ight and warm." Jungkooks dick twitched inside of you as you started to move a bit, basically slightly bouncing up and down.

Soon you guys were both moans and moving in rhythm. He didn't really know what to do his body just instantly trusted upwards inside your warm wet cunt. You grabbed Jungkooks lard hand inside your slim small one , making him spread your puffy pretty pussy lips and placed his index and middle finger on your clit, signaling him to rub you as you rode him.

"Love riding your cock kookie. S-so big, you're doing so good for me baby I'm so so proud of you. Being a good boy just for me. Being a good little star sinner for mommy" His cock hit this one spot inside your pussy that made you squeal. You can feel every vein and every drop of pre cum that was sliding against your tight walls.

Your hands reached to his light brownish nipples and started toying with them. Jungkook didn't know he could receive such pleasure from getting his nipples touched. His sweet moans made you ride him faster as you attach your lips on his nipples making him moan out loudly. Thank god your windows were tinted black if not you and jungkook could've had an exorcism preformed on you guys by the church if they saw this.

"I- I'm gonna cum! Mommy please I c-an't" Jungkooks cock was pulsing inside you cunt, your moans and the way your lips sucked on his nipples were enough to make him bust his load inside you right then and there.

"Hold it baby. " you said, pushing Jungkook down so his body is laying down on the seats. You quickly got on top of him and moved your hips around in a circular motion, then back and forth. Jungkooks eyes rolled back for a second. He literally almost saw heaven. His tip hitting your insides made you scream out his name. Jungkooks large hands groping your huge breast that didn't even fit all the way in his hand making you reach your high.

"Fuck Jungkook! Fuck baby your huge fucking dick gonna make me cum all o-over! You're such a fucking good boy" The praise was amazing, but what was even more amazing was your black painted nails digging in his chest. The pain of your nails digging from his collar bone all the way to his abs. Feeling your nails drag across his chest made him start thrusting up. His thighs shaking in insane pleasure.

"I-im cumming !" Jungkooks cum painted your gummy warm insides, you moaned out loud with the feeling of his hot cum reaching all the way to your womb. You didn't care about protection or the risk of getting impregnated at the moment, all you cared about was this big dummy underneath you. You hoped off his softening dick, the feeling of removing his long thick length from your insides making you groan a bit.

Jungkook was looking up at you with a big smile on his face, looking a little silly but that's alright.

"That was so.. amazing koo" you placed kisses all over his cheeks, neck, nose, and lips. He pulled you in for a big kiss which caught you by surprise. After a couple seconds you both pulled away. You instantly went to get soft clean tissues to clean both of you up. You cleaned yourself up and then put your full attention on Jungkook. Carefully cleaning his abs, thighs, and cock with the tissue. Making sure his soft skin was clean and didn't have any rash. You put on your panties and a shirt on and quickly put pajama pants on Jungkook and a warm shirt since it was a little chilli outside. You looked up at him and saw stars in his big glassy eyes.

"I love you" was all that came out of Jungkooks mouth.

"I.. I love you too, My Little star sinner" you whispered and squished his cheeks making you both giggle cutely

"Let's go to my place, we'll cook and watch movies.. and maybe sin a little more." You winked at him.

And with that.. you drove Jungkook home and ended up falling asleep with his head on your lap and your hand in his fluffy hair as the TV played the care bear movies.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

holy fuck😭.

Hope You Guys Enoyed This!! ♡

#bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jjk smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook x you #kpop #yandere-jungkook #brat!jungkook #nastygal #bts kpop #kpop fic #smut fic #explict #fanfic #fantasy #jungkook angst

[arkham-ayden]

I'm following a prompt list for October! You can read it above on ao3 or below the cut here!

• Pairing: Ben/Mal

• Prompt: Carving pumpkins

• Word count: 1906

• No additional warnings

“Mal! Over here!” Ben called from across the way.

The courtyard was adorned with bright decorations; spiderwebs, comically sized ghosts and bats, garland strung up from every available surface and then there were long tables with an array of giant oranges on them.

She’d never seen oranges that big, hells, they weren’t even mouldy! She walked over, meeting Ben halfway and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“What is all this? On the Isle, Hallows’ Eve was just everyone getting drunk at Facilier’s place.”

“We like to do a big school event, and I had a feeling you guys wouldn’t have had the more festive things, so I set you up with something that everyone does here.”

He gestured to the oranges, now close up, Mal could see knives and spoons set around them.

“Eating oranges like an insane person?”

“No,” he laughed. “These are pumpkins, you carve them, make fun patterns, and then you put a candle in them to make them glow at night.”

She cast a look down the table, Evie was pulling a mass out of the pumpkin, not looking all too thrilled. Carlos was using a tiny knife to carve circles above a triangle, where Jay was taking the biggest knife and making a large almost circle at the top.

"Ben, this is sweet but I don’t get it. What purpose does this serve?”

“It doesn’t have to serve any kind of purpose. Back in the day it had some special meaning to it, but now we just do it for fun.”

Seeing her raised eyebrows he continued.

“I know, it’s probably really weird, but it’s your first holiday here in Auradon. We, I wanted to do something nice for you. Come on, give it a try.”

Mal shot Ben an amused but reluctant smile, taking a small carving knife. She made a lazy circle on the top of her pumpkin, not piercing hard enough to pop it out like Jay had done moments earlier. She fought with the knife for a few moments before realising it was stuck. Her shoulders slumped inwards as she tried to pull it out, to no avail. She tugged and tugged, eventually dislodging the blade, catching herself on the upswing. She cried out, more from shock than pain. Ben whipped his head around from his own pumpkin. Mal had instinctively sucked on the wound to staunch the blood flow.

“Hey, let me show you, okay?”

It was more of a question than a statement, but Mal raised her hands and went to step away before Ben pulled her to his side. She stiffened but it seemed like Ben hadn’t noticed. He picked up the biggest knife on the table and handed it to her. She blinked in shock, this had to be some kind of test, right? No sane person would hand a villain a weapon willingly. He pressed it into her palm, taking the handle in his own just above where her hand clasped it.

Together, they plunged the knife in, it was a pillowy sound rather than the cracking sound she expected to hear. They pulled it as close to them as one swipe would take, before taking the knife out and repeating the process until the cuts met.

“That’s not a circle,” she almost giggled.

“Nope, it doesn’t have to be perfect. Here’s the gross part.”

He lifted the closed shape by a thick stem, pulling with some difficulty. When it came up, there were stringy memmbranes connected to the innards, seeds mingled in the mess.

Mal raised a hand to her nose, an unfamiliar scent permeating the air. It was earthy, with almost a hint of sweetness to it. Not an artificial sweet either, it was subtle and succinct.

“And then,” Ben rolled up his sleeve as he spoke. “The equally gross, yet fun part.”

He stuck his hand deep into the cavern, a squelching sound making Mal cringe. Up came thick clumps of the membrane seed mix plastered to his fingers. He smirked, nose wrinkling as he held it close to Mal’s face. Her hands darted up to protect herself from the foul smelling goop. He put the mixture into a bowl just off to the side. There was a small tendril left on his thumb, taking the chance to wipe it on his girlfriend’s nose.

“Ew! Gross, Ben, seriously gross.”

“Gods, the look on your face, if looks could kill.” He laughed heartily.

“Right now, I wish they could.”

He took a moment to breathe and compose himself.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist. My mom always used to do it to me and I never saw the appeal. But that look made it all worth it.”

“Yeah, yeah. What next?”

He handed back the smaller knife she attempted to use.

“You can make a design on this side. You cut all the way through and pop the pieces out, or you can cut the skin off to make it glow less.”

“What kind of design?”

“Anything you want! I’m pretty sure Evie said she wanted to make some kind of crown, Carlos is doing some kind of face, and Jay,” he snickered. “Well, I’m pretty sure Jay’s just having fun with the knives. Don’t worry, we’ve got Lonnie watching him to make sure he doesn’t hurt himself or anyone else.”

“I can make anything on this?”

“Yeah of course, just nothing Fairy Godmother wouldn’t approve of. I’m gonna work on mine some more, there’s a contest for best dressed pumpkin and I’m trying to outdo Jane this year. You’d think she’d get some kind of restriction considering who her mom is.”

He shook his head and turned back to his own craftsmanship. Anything, huh? Mal considered some of the art she’d made on the Isle before deciding this was far too small of a canvas to recreate anything. But it seemed just big enough for something new she’d wanted to try. She started to work, making larger cuts here and smaller shavings of the skin there. After a good ten minutes, she was almost done, roughly estimating she was five or so minutes away from completion.

Ben had finished on his, he was holding it like someone would a baby, it was a near perfect recreation of his castle’s shield emblem, there were a few shaky lines here and there, but it looked almost identical to the shields adorning lampposts. He turned to show it to Mal, hastily covering her own work.

"What’d you think?”

“It looks great.”

“What about you? How’s it coming along?”

“It’s not done yet. No peeking.”

He raised a single hand, firmly holding his creation with the other.

“Okay, okay, I’m handing mine in. Judging starts in 10 so if you want to get it in, keep an eye on the time.”

“Gotcha.”

He started to walk off, Mal going back to her own work. She stepped back for a moment to look at it in its entirety, suddenly doubting her skills. What if it looked nothing alike? It looked good to her, but the standards in this place seemed to be so much higher than the Isle, where any effort was a cut above the rest. She bit her lip, did she even want to submit it? After not much time, she realised she had to submit her work. None of the rest of her family were planning to, Jay was still playing with the knives much to the dismay of Lonnie, and Carlos, who’s pumpkin he’d accidentally disfigured with his antics, and Evie had abandoned hers in favour of the punch bowl and trying to flirt with Chad, asking about his castle most likely.

She had to put it in for judging to at least prove to the rest of them that they could do good, they could be recognised as more than villains if only for a few seconds. She finished the final touches and handed her pumpkin to Fairy Godmother, offering it sheepishly.

When she arrived back at her table, Ben was already waiting for her, two glasses in hand.

“I got us a drink, did you hand yours in?”

“Yeah, I did. Thanks.”

She took the glass with a small smile, still not used to the kind gestures Ben offered, despite how consistent they were.

“Fairy Godmother’s going over them now, we should head up to the front to see who wins.”

She nodded, taking one of Ben’s hands in hers. He was always so warm where her hands felt more like ice than flesh, a downside of being part draconic due to her mother’s spells. She relied on outer sources for her heat, unable to make her own without the sun.

“Mal, you’re shivering, are you okay?”

“Mm? Oh, my body can’t make its own warmth. I’m okay, just a little chilly.”

Ben took his jacket off and placed it around Mal’s shoulders and pulled her closer to him. Nestling her head in the crook of Ben’s neck, she immediately felt warmer. Not just her skin, but it was like her insides were being warmed up. It was a weird feeling, chalking it up to the inadvertent curse. They stayed like that for a few minutes before the dark haired woman took the stage, three pumpkins with designs facing her.

“Welcome Auradon Prep students, to our annual best dressed pumpkin contest. As you may all know, I’m quite good with a gourd,” She laughed at her own joke, Ben quickly explaining it.

“Without further adieu, I’d like to present our winners of this year. In third place,” she spun around the leftmost pumpkin. “King Benjamin and the royal crest.”

There was scattered applause, most too busy indulging in sweets or conversations to pay much attention.

“In second place is Jane with her beautiful silhouette of a pumpkin carriage.”

Again, scattered applause, though a bit louder. Presumably, it was from Jane’s friends, finally focusing in.

“And finally, in first place we have,” she trilled, trailing off slightly.

Mal was crossing her fingers and felt a surge of warmth flow through her as Ben embraced her in a hug to try and warm her up some more.

“Mal from the Isle with her portrait of King Ben.”

As the pumpkin was spun around, there were audible gasps from the small crowd, some people pausing their conversations to take a look at the art. Her art. Ben pulled away from the hug briefly, mouth slightly agape as he looked in awe. Fairy Godmother beckoned Mal on stage, with a small push from Ben, she went up.

“As winner of this year’s contest, it is my honour to give you this token of $25 and an opening to our art programme here at Auradon Prep.”

It was Mal’s turn to be shocked, mouth agape.

Cheers from her friends erupted and cut the harsh silence.

“Go Mal!”

“How’d she do that with these things?”

“That’s my girl!”

Slowly, applause came from the small crowd, becoming louder and louder. Ben pulled her down from the stage and swept her into a kiss, dipping her down.

“Did you seriously make me a pumpkin? That’s the cutest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

She caressed his cheek, kissing back and smiling under it.

“You really made me look good for a gourd.” He parroted the cheesy joke. She tilted her head playfully, tipping Ben’s crown to one side.

“You always look good.”

#ben descendants #mal descendants #halloween #pumpkin carving #its cute #and so much less angst than my usual #i like it #its nice to swap it out occasionally #prompt list #writing prompt #this is practice #for 50k november #help me #im trying okay #i also dont know how to format #forgive me #i have a job interview on tuesday #please pray i get it #i want this job so bad #you dont even know #also watching saw tomorrow #very excited

[talesfromsiteredacted]

SCP: Standard Cooking Protocols

As part of the new Enrichment Protocols, I'm tasked with giving a cooking lesson to 053, Evie. Today's lesson: Papa Snow's Anomalously Delicious Chocolate Chunk Cookies. Since my favorite niece can barely see the counter, never mind work an oven, she's sitting on a stool handing the premeasured ingredients to me.

It's early afternoon, and the first activity in the new division is underway. Evie wanted to know how my dad taught me to bake her favorite cookies, so I'm showing her. We're in the staff breakroom kitchen, both in lemon print aprons. I tied Evie's hair back in pigtails, no one likes hair in their cookies, least of all our big cranky reptile buddy. Once I pin my hair into a messy bun, we get to work. I've measured out all the stuff from flour to vanilla, in the exact amounts, most of it in plastic bags except the eggs.

"Okay, first we need the sugar and the butter. Add a splash of vanilla, and I'll whip the whole thing up. That's step one."

"Why the sugar and butter first?" Evie asks as I add the sweet powder to the dairy component. As I blend it, I explain.

"By mixing the so-called wet stuff first, we can get it more evenly mixed. Pretty sure not everybody is into big hunks of butter in their cookie dough." Once I'm satisfied, I move to the next part. Evie passes the eggs and vanilla, and I pour the brown liquid in.

"The trick to not getting shell in the bowl is just crack them gently on a flat surface, then bend back the shell." I show her Dad's method. No shell, no problem! In they go, a-one, a-two, then more mixing.

"Can you eat eggshells?"

"You can, but I think they're a bit too crunchy to catch on as a snack." I check the recipe. Ah, the dry phase can begin.

"Flour, please." Evie hand over the largest sack, I snip off a corner with scissors and use the open tip to funnel the flour in. It's an advantage to premeasuring, even if doing it is a pain in the buns. Even so, there's still a bit of stray flour before I'm done. The rest of the powdery stuff goes in next, baking soda and a tiny bit of salt.

"Why add the salt?"

"It brings out the sweet in the cookie, makes it taste better. This stuff was once so valuable the Romans used it to pay the army. That was before refrigeration was a big thing, and there wasn't ice around. It preserves food too. Just don't go eating a lot of salted meat without water, it dries your mouth out a little too much." I turn to my eager assistant. "I've been doing all the work here, wanna dump in the chocolate chunks for me? Just pull the top open, and let them rip." Evie pours in the chunks, I start stirring again. As I do, I ask her a question.

"So, Most Trusted and Best Baker's Helper Ever, what do we do with all these cookies once they're baked and cool?"

"We eat some, silly!"

"We eat all these, we'll be sick. Maybe one or two for right now, then we box the rest up to share with Mr. Lizard later, during storytime? I'm sure the big guy likes a good cookie too."

"Well, there is a lot of them. Maybe someone else needs a cookie too. Ooh! 999! He loves cookies. Why don't we save him some?"

"Great idea, Evie. Wanna hear a secret? I heard one of our new hires, Dr. Miller hasn't had a cookie in a while. I'll take her some on my way to see some of the Keters. I do have to drop off a dozen to 682, after all." I look at the bowl, yep. We have achieved dough. Time to bake. This is the part Evie shouldn't be too involved with as a kid, that oven is hot. So, time for a visit to Nook's Cranny while Auntie Rabbit finishes the job and tidies up.

"Okay, break time, Evie. It's going to be a while before the final product, so why not check out your village? I have the game set, have fun. Say hi to Bob for me."

She starts playing my DS while I handle the rest. Before long, everything is done, including the dishes. Evie looks up.

"All done so soon?"

"Yep. I learned to clean up as I go, leaves more time for fun that way. The cookies are almost ready to be packed up. But... there's the final step. This is the most important part, okay? So, total honestly here. Are you ready for the final test?"

"What is it?"

"We each eat one, and say if it's tasty or not. This was the part Dad told me was both the best and hardest, judging what you made. Ready? Here comes phase one test. Evie, start your chompers!" She giggles as I hand her a fresh cookie. She takes her first bite, and that huge smile tells me we have succeeded. As she's devouring the test sample, a familiar orange gelatinous mound of glee wobbles in, lured by the scent of fresh cookies.

"Hey, 999? Mind running an unauthorized test for us?" I hand him a cookie, placing it on his top. It sinks in, he chirps in happiness. "Okay, test successful. We have made some very good cookies." We box up most of the rest to be shared, but we all take just one more cookie each.

#scp foundation #tales from site redacted #dr rabbit #scp 053 #scp 999

[rottentothecoreee]

#descendants 3 #d3 #gif #gifs #evie #sofia carson #I'm so whipped for Evie okay

[fuck-you-i-am-spiderman]

🌻 -@lsleofthelost

Hello I want to quit my job before I have another mental breakdown ✌️ I'm very sorry it's taken me so long to do this, I intended to do it sooner but life got in the way sadly. But anyway, @Isleofthelost I decided to try and make this long to make up for it! Everyone was in a Jal mood lately soooooo (read it as platonic or romantic, whatever floats your boat!)

-

Mal and Jay have the most trouble getting to sleep. Jay has insomnia and he can't shut his brain off. It'll be 3am and he'll be doing press-ups whilst Carlos is snoring away (he got a pillow thrown at his head when he was too loud and kept Carlos from his sleep, so Jay tries to keep as quiet as possible even though his brain is still going in hyperspeed). He starts going to the gym at weird hours or going for runs early on. It's also the times he sneaks into the girl's dorm and takes Mal on adventures of chaos, he knows she is usually awake when he is.

Mal's insomnia isn't as severe as Jay's, as in she can get to sleep eventually but she has a lot of trouble staying asleep. Mal has nightmares and she wakes up a lot during the night (more so when she's anxious and thinking deeply about something). She doesn't like to talk about it because she has this nagging feeling that makes her feel like being vulnerable isn't an option. She lies about it and it's how she ends up going in late night prank missions with Jay or baking at 3am with Carlos or waking Evie up with a flutter of kisses because she needs the distraction, she needs to avoid sleep if it will hurt her. But of course they are all very quick to remind Mal that it's okay to let her walls down with them. Evie singing them soft songs and letting Mal sleep with her head against Evie's chest, listening to her heartbeat. Or Carlos wrestling with Jay to exhaust him and then cuddling into Jay's side to create the perfect amount of pressure for Jay to be able to relax.

Mal makes the sleep gummy for Jay to make it easier for him to wind down. Ironically she stays up all night perfecting the recipe, and gets Evie to double check everything so the gummy doesn't send Jay into too deep of a sleep. This isn't a fairytale and the only way she's going to wake him up if it goes wrong, is by pouring water over Jay's head.

Carlos finding the most perfect coffee shop so the caffeine can help when Mal or Jay have had a really rough night. Evie rolling her eyes when Mal and Jay claim to only want black coffees because:

Jay: you're sweet enough for us princess

Mal: I want a coffee as dark as my soul

Carlos: *rolling his eyes* yeah, Jay will have a black forest mocha with whipped cream and mini marshmallows

Evie: and Mal will have a vanilla latte with extra syrup, five sweeteners and a strawberry tart

#descendants #Jal #Malvie #Jaylos #jay son of jafar #mal bertha #I'm in a soft kind of mood

[alottanothing]

Kismet

Summary: Evie prepares a meal for the stranger who helped her and finds herself more than a little smitten.

Previous Part: Hope

Word Count: 5707

Warnings: Language

Tag List: @ramilicious, @txmel, @edteche2, @gloriousdarkangelsworld, @diasimar, @xmxisxforxmaybe (Let me know if I missed you, or if you would like to be added to the tag list)

A/N: Okay, I almost didn't get this up today because I was up most of the night sewing kilts for Highland Weekend at the Ohio Renfiare. BUT I stayed awake and did my final read-through, so this should be mostly okay. I skipped a couple steps in my editing to get this up on time but I think, for the most part, it's okay. If you see a grammatical booboo, just ignore it, I'll get in here sometime this week with my other two editing steps and find it, then repost this. Capisce? Okay, cool...now. I hope you enjoy it, I also hope my trying to phonetically write Mer's accent doesn't get too annoying. I know you really shouldn't write accents, but I think it helps add to the characters. And I do try to keep it to a minimum so it doesn't get annoying. Thanks for the love the first part received last month! I know waiting so long between updates is a bit sad after weekly updates with LtR. But life is busy right now and once a month is all can guarantee.

Jonny did not know how to keep a house.

In fact, Jonny did not know how to do much more than drink, argue, and get into fights. He was nothing but a thorn in Evie's side—never mind how much she needed him for a place to lay her head. A necessary thorn was still a thorn. Given the opportunity, she would rip it out as soon as she could and dress the wound promptly so she was finally able to heal better. She stayed only because she had no other choice. And every time Jonny raised his voice or stumbled in reeking of alcohol and red-faced, Evie could hear her best friend's warning in her head. Cynthia had begged her not to go with him, but she hadn't listened.

Oh, how she wished she had.

Luckily, Jonny wasn't the kind of man who liked to stay home which eased the ache of the ever-present thorn in her side. Whatever money he did have, he spent out on the town—the town being New Orleans. Like Evie, Jonny had been born and raised in the Big Apple, the noise and the chaos was part of him. As such, he hadn't taken to the quiet suburban life Bridge City offered as well as Evie. She liked the quiet, easy flow of the sleepy town. Her housemate loathed his new home. He thrived in disarray, thus, he found a group of like-minded young men to run amok with in the neighboring metropolis every chance he got.

If Jonny had been any sort of amicable company, the notion of him leaving most every night to wreak havoc several miles away would have been upsetting. Thankfully, his penchant for city life meant a good portion of Evie's days were spent out from under Jonny's tyranny. The hours he was gone were blissful and calm, and she relished in them. Whether she was creating art or tending to chores around the old house, Evie didn't care as long as Jonny wasn't there—never mind how lonely the routine often was.

Evie had never gotten the chance to meet Jonny's maternal grandmother, though she suspected she would have liked to. Unlike her grandson, she seemed like any other sweet elderly woman judging by the furnishings she'd left behind. There were dozens of lace doilies, and table cloths with soft patterns, decretive china even, but it was the plethora of photos the old woman kept that told Evie she'd carried a kindly heart. All of them were kept in pristine albums or intricate frames; they were the only barbles that seemed to have been cleaned or dusted with any regularity which spoke of how much she must have treasured them. Evie loved those tiny trinkets and black and white memories. It didn't matter that they were not her legacy of family heirlooms to keep, she adored them anyway.

She couldn't count the number of times she'd replaced a broken frame that had fallen victim to Jonny's drunken belligerence or scrubbed tirelessly at a stain he'd left on the patterned tablecloths. It proved to be a hefty undertaking, but dwelling in the fantasies of someone else's history let her forget the grief of her own. She was willing to sacrifice a little elbow grease if it allowed her mind to roam away from the shadow that never really seemed to vanish.

For all the effort Evie put in on the interior, the cottage held little in the way of curb appeal. The porch was sunken in the middle, the paint was peeling off in chunks, and the yard was mostly weeds. Worst, however, was the screen door which squeaked so loudly, every dog in the neighborhood howled in protest every time someone crossed the threshold. The outside needed love that Evie simply didn't have the energy to lend. Despite the grit, however, the foundations were sturdy enough that she didn't worry. The cottage proved to be stronger than she looked—a feat Evie felt she had in common with the old house. And while it was a swell enough place to rest her head, it never truly felt like home. Home was somewhere safe, and as long as Jonny lived under that roof she wasn't safe. Not really.

Fortunately, Jonny wasn't home when Evie returned after her run-in with Mr. Shelton—Mer, she corrected herself with a hint of a giddy smile. Without her housemate there, her evening promised to be hopeful instead of lonely, and she wasted no time in figuring out what to make for dinner.

With her red pumps replaced by her worn-in slippers and her blue checkered apron secured around her waist, she set a pot of water to boil and dialed the phone conveniently located in the kitchen. Every evening she called her sister-in-law to pass the time and keep up on unimportant gossip back home; this time, however, Evie was excited to finally have some good news to share.

"You got the job, didn't you?" Cynthia Clarke asked on the other end, sounding hopeful. "I knew you would."

Evie grinned, still amazed how the sound of Cyn's voice always seemed to settle some of the ever-present anxieties buzzing in her head. She missed her friend so much.

"I didn't even say yes."

"Did you or did you not get the job?" Cynthia pressed.

"I did," Evie confirmed and her smile grew hearing her friend cheer on the other end of the phone.

"See! I knew it." Cynthia said. "My gut feeling is always right."

Evie rolled her eyes and shook her head fondly.

"I think I'm gonna like working there too, so that's good." she mused as she stood at the stove, eyeing the pot of water she’d set to boil.

"That's so great, Ev. I'm so proud of you." Cynthia paused before continuing. "So, what are you up to tonight? Avoiding Jonny?"

"Sorta," Evie nodded even though she knew her friend wouldn't see.

As she continued to watch her cooking pot of water she told Cynthia all about her trouble with Jonny's car and the man who'd been so kind to help her.

"Wait. You invited the stranger over who fixed the car?" Concern was heavy in Cyn's voice, and Evie half expected a lecture to follow.

Despite knowing each other since childhood, Cynthia had taken on the role of her protector since Evie's family was no longer in the picture. The war had claimed Evie's father, and brother—although they'd never found her brother, Jimmy after he disappeared behind enemy lines. Evie never lost hope that Jimmy would one day be found, Cynthia though, was certain her husband was never coming home. After Cyn’s brother, Charlie, died at Normandy Cynthia had difficulty believing anyone was going to make it home. As for Evie's mother, losing a child and her husband to the war was too much for her tender heart and she passed not long after. Ever since, Cynthia was overcome with the need to act as Evie's guardian.

"He wouldn't let me pay him," Evie explained. "So I'm making him dinner—it seemed like the least I could do."

"I suppose…." Cynthia didn't sound convinced, if anything she sounded slightly irritated there was no quick way for her to argue the logic. "Just be careful, Evie. You don't know this guy—he could be another Jonny Doyle. Or worse."

"He's not," Evie said quickly. She wanted nothing more than to tell her friend all about how benevolent Mer was, but she decided against it. Cynthia would only argue that point somehow.

A long pause followed, and Evie wedged the receiver between her ear and shoulder so her hands were free to work on the meal.

"So, what are you cooking?" This time, there was a hint of jest in her friend's tone when she spoke.

The art of cooking was one creative outlet that Evie struggled with, second only to music. In her youth, her mother did all the cooking—it was a passion of her mother's—thus Evie had done little more than watch in wonder as her mother whipped up meal after meal effortlessly. Breakfast she the meal she was probably best at, apple pies too, but anything beyond that Evie required a step by step guide to prepare. And even then she lacked confidence. Thankfully, when she'd fled south, she remembered to grab her mother's cookbook. It was a cumbersome tome with yellowed pages and notes scribbled into the margins: a piece of art itself cultivated over years of collecting recipe after recipe starting the moment her mother stepped off the boat that brought her from Ireland. And like a witch and her spellbook, Evie depended on it.

"Spaghetti with garlic bread," Evie admitted feeling as though the meal lacked a certain something.

Pasta was something she knew held a low degree of difficulty when it came to preparing. Surely she couldn't mess up pasta.

“Mmm, I can almost smell it,” Cynthia said.

“Shut up.”

“No, seriously,” Cyn replied. “You’re mom’s spaghetti recipe was always my favorite.”

A doleful smile pulled at the corners of her lips, thinking back to her mother happily cooking in the kitchen as she sang a Celtic tune. It seemed strange that those moments would never again play out, instead they’d become bittersweet memories Evie could only relive in her mind.

“Mine too,” she murmured, suddenly missing her family.

Neither of them said anything for a moment, and Evie’s mind roamed the dregs of her grief before blinking back into reality and the hope of something happy to come.

“I need to go, Cyn,” Evie told her friend with a sigh. “I don’t want to burn the garlic bread.”

Cynthia chuckled and said her goodbye, only after making Evie promise to call her in the morning to let her know how everything went.

With her second hand restored after hanging up, Evelyn reached for her mother’s cookbook to give the steps another look over to ensure she had done everything and added every herb and ingredient she was supposed to. She’d followed everything perfectly, even factoring in the little notes scribbled into the margins left there by her mother—those she smiled at fondly and traced the fading ink with her fingers. Everything was as it should be. Even so, without a taste, Evie knew the sauce she had prepared would never be as savory as what her mother made so effortlessly.

“You were the artist in the kitchen, Ma,” she said with a shrug. “I’ll stick to paper and canvas.”

For the smallest of a moment Evie thought she would hear the warmth of her mother’s laugh, and when it never came she sighed again, trying not to dwell on the shadows behind her. What mattered was the light ahead.

Despite her lack of confidence, the meal came together without any severe hiccups. The noodles were not overcooked, the sauce was a complementing mix of savory and sweet (though, as she had guessed after a tiny taste, was not nearly as good as her mother's) and the garlic bread was nicely golden. A small tingle of pride manifested in the form of a surprised, but satisfied, smile as she surveyed the dinner before her.

“Not bad, Ev,” she told herself, knowing her mother would have been delighted.

With the cooking done, Evie threw a glance over her shoulder to the clock mounted on the wall, triggering a surge of anxiety to bubble in her gut. Stranger, perhaps, was the amount of excitement coursing through her veins. It was as though all of her happiness was riding on whether or not she would see Merriell again. None of it made sense; the man was little more than a stranger. The coupling of nerves and delight was not a feeling that put her ill at ease, however. She trusted it. And it was that peculiar sensation that seemed to fuel her movements.

With a few minutes to spare, Evie wandered into the small bathroom to freshen up. She made sure her hair was still pinned the way she liked—up and pretty. Her make-up was holding up nicely despite the heat; all she needed was a fresh layer of lipstick to complete the illusion of a put-together young lady. It wasn't often she wore a dress with heels and a face of cosmetics—she liked to when the opportunity arose, but she was just as comfortable in a pair of old overalls and smudges of charcoal on her face.

Just as she wiggled back into her red pumps—discarding her worn-in house slippers with a couple of calculated kicks—a knock on the door signaled Merriells arrival. Immediately a grin curled onto Evie's lips and her heart began to pound an anxious-excited rhythm. A blush threatened to color her cheeks to give away the torrid muscle beating in her chest—her ever yearning heart already making leaps and bounds for a man she had known for mere hours.

Don't be ridiculous—she warned herself taking in a deep breath to curb the eagerness coursing in her veins. Untying her apron, she tossed it along with her discarded slippers and went to answer the door, taking one last deep breath to steady the fervor in her heart.

Merriell had changed and showered. The sweet bouquet of his shampoo coupled invitingly with the musk of the aftershave he'd chosen, making it difficult for Evie to keep from soaking in the scent he carried. His curls were still somewhat damp—too much moisture in the air to keep the heat from drying them on his way over—though they fought to spring back into their previous fluff. The grease-covered, jeans he'd been wearing had been replaced by a nice pair of tan slacks, and the buttoned shirt he wore was a soft shade of green that made his eyes glitter a deeper emerald as he stood under the glow of the porch light. All Evie could do was stare—utterly beguiled—every rational thought in her head lost to her.

Mer smirked, amused by her ogling. "Hiya."

Evie blinked, coming back to reality, suddenly feeling foolish, and uttered a nervous "hi" before swinging her arm to invite him inside.

"Come in."

Merriell's smile grew as he crossed the threshold, inhaling deeply. "Mm, smells tasty in here."

He gently forced a bottle into her hands as he passed on his way to investigate the savory smells in the kitchen.

"I wasn' sho what ya was makin', but I figured wine usually goes with anythin'."

"Oh, thank you." Evie glanced at the label, unable to read the French words printed there. "You didn't have to bring anything."

"I know," Mer shrugged, placing his hands in his pockets. "I just wanted to make a good impression."

There was something almost boyish when he smiled then—cheeks coloring pink ever-so-slightly—that made him even more of a mystery. One Evie was eager to solve.

"Well," she said placing the bottle on the kitchen table. "It should go perfectly with dinner."

His expression lost a hint of its boyish charm as it grew into a look of delight.

"Make yourself at home," Evie gestured vaguely between the table and the sofa in the living room as she ventured to the cabinet where the stemware was kept.

She placed two crystal glasses on the table along with the wine and retraced her steps to fetch some of the nicer china Jonny's grandmother had kept. Mer watched her, his gaze, gentle and attentive, and a little bit yearning as she methodically sat the table.

"Need help with anythin'?" he asked finally.

"Nope," She replied with a smile. "Everything is almost ready."

The hearty red sauce on the stove was beginning to boil again which told her it was hot enough to serve, and Evie eyed the pot with scrutiny, praying silently her attempt at cooking would go over well.

"I'll pour us a glass then," Mer announced.

"Great, lemme…" Evie spun to fish for the corkscrew in the drawer of misfit utensils, finding it, only to turn to see Merriell holding his lighter against the neck of the dark bottle just below the cork.

Before she could ask, a loud pop sounded, causing her to jump as the cork went flying.

"Oh my goodness!" she laughed, a little surprised, a little impressed. "Where did you learn to do that?"

Mer shrugged, a sly expression on his features, and left her question unanswered.

"How much ya want?" He held the open bottle over the top of her glass, waiting patiently.

"Enough," she said, tossing him a coy smirk without really meaning to.

He bit his lower lip as he smiled, chuckling under his breath when he poured a generous glass of red wine for each of them. She thanked him as he took his seat and grabbed his plate to dish out their dinner.

"How much pasta would you like?"

Mer's face lit with charm and mischief as he turned to face her.

"Enough," he grinned.

The expression on his face was playful, his smirk devious and amused by his own response and his cheekiness settled warmly in Evie's stomach. Not only did she revel in it, but she also played into his whimsy and scooped as much spaghetti into his plate as she could before coupling it with the savory sauce and a slice of bread.

Despite being only strangers, the atmosphere that bloomed that evening was not marked by any hint of bashfulness, instead, it was relaxed and amiable. Warmth that Evie had longed to dwell in again—that unrefutable kindness she'd lost with the passing of her family—flowed uninhibited from the man sitting adjacent to her. His conversation was cautious but still jovial and genuine. It was the first time since running south Evie could recall what life felt like without grief and fear weighing upon her. Merriell was a stranger, but she felt safe with him. Jonny had never made her feel that way.

"So," Evie spoke as she twirled the last bit of pasta with her fork. "What is it you do, Mr. Shelton?"

Mer cast her a look of disapproval—no doubt in retaliation to being addressed so formally—before his features softened back into a neutral, yet somehow still amused side smirk.

"Nothin' too excitin'," he stated vaguely. "The odd jobs are what I like ta do the most—like fixin' ya car this aftah noon."

Without really meaning to, Evie leaned forward, resting her elbow and chin on the table, utterly enchanted by the beautiful stranger at her table.

"You like to get your hands dirty, huh? Fixing things?" she was entirely too intrigued with the thought of what he could do with his hands.

He shrugged, suddenly modest after a foray of playfully arrogant smirks and glances. It made him abruptly twice as charming.

"I've always had a knack for it, I guess." Merriell finished the food on his plate with the help of his remaining garlic bread to mop up the sauce still left on his dish.

"What about you?" he asked after chewing. "Ya workin' anywhere?"

All at once, a proud smile lit up Evie's face. After all the excitement of seeing Merriell again, she'd almost forgotten about her good news.

"Actually, I just got a job today—the general store downtown, Southern Comfort."

Mer's face lit up too, "Birdie's place?"

"Yeah, you know it?" Of course, he knows it! She thought, Bridge City's population was slightly less than the number of people who lived in a single district back home in New York. Everyone knew everyone else.

"Sho do—I was practically raised there…ole Birdie's like a second mothah to me."

"Really?" Evie found a great deal of comfort in that notion. In fact the more she thought on it, the more she realized how similar the old woman and Mer were; they radiated the same magnetism and sincerity.

"Mmhm," he nodded, his eyes focusing elsewhere as the veil of memories danced across the contours of his features. "My mama used ta work there…once upon a time…"

"Does she still work there?"

Merriell's face lost a hit of its levity and he swallowed as though to fight off the onslaught of sudden emotion threatening to cast a shadow onto his expression.

"No…" he said softly. "She—uh—she died, about a year ago."

Shit!

Abruptly, sick knots twisted into Evie's stomach, feeling callous, but understanding of the quiet misery he hid under layers of charm and arrogance.

"Merriell, I'm…I'm sorry—I didn't mean…"

He met her eyes and cast her a quick smile—doleful, but enough to ease the awful feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"It's okay," he reassured her, reaching for his glass of wine and taking a good gulp before changing the subject. "Birdie's great—you'll enjoy workin' for her."

"I hope so…" Evie said softly, still too embarrassed to meet Mer's glance longer than a second or two.

For the first time all night the atmosphere they shared felt cumbersome—perhaps more melancholy—than she'd wanted it to get. Evie sat, worrying her bottom lip, her fingers toying with a loose thread in the table cloth as she stole quick glances through her lashes in Mer's direction.

He was nursing the alcohol in his glass with the same sadness she'd caught plaguing him as he sat at the bar hours ago. And while Evie was eager to know if his grief stemmed only from the loss of his mother, or perhaps more, Merriell was still too much of a stranger to warrant such questions. It didn't matter how easy it was to be near him, she had not earned the right to know his narrative.

A soft sigh broke past her lips as she fought to find a way to properly allay the gloom that was quickly ruining an otherwise wonderful evening. It wasn't until her eyes found their desert sitting on the counter, waiting to save the day, that she perked up.

"Got any room for apple pie?" Evie asked with a hesitant smile. She hoped he wanted to stay long enough to have a slice, though she would not have blamed him for wanting to leave.

Immediately Mer perked up too, the shadows on his features retreating with the promise of something sweet.

"I was countin' on it—seems as how you promised a slice earlier," he said with a boyish grin.

When she stood, he did too, helping clear away their dinner plates, and letting them soak in the sink to be washed later. Evie cut them each a slice of apple pie and the delight on Mer’s face made her smile too seeing him lick his lips as his grin continued to grow. Catching that flash of his tongue was like a bolt of hot lightning striking her without warning; a blush rose so quickly on her cheeks Evie had to look away to keep the blunder a secret. Thankfully, the pie was more than enough to hold Merriell’s attention away from her.

“Mmmm… Almost looks too good to eat,” he said ogling the desert in front of him.

When Evie chanced a look his way, the expression on his face caused her to chuckle, “‘oughta be, I made one for my pa every year for his birthday since I was nine. It’s probably the only thing I have any confidence in making in the kitchen.”

“Coulda fooled me,” Mer quipped as he loaded his fork with as much pie as he could.

The moment he took a bite, his brows creased, and eyes closed as he chewed painfully slow. Those few seconds were like agony. Evie’s heart was pounding in her chest with so much anticipation she feared she might faint as she watched him sample the only thing she could actually make that was worth a damn.

“Fuck me, if that ain’t the best apple pie I’ve evah had the pleasure of tasting.”

A somewhat nervous, but relieved chuckle sounded in the back of Evelyn’s throat as she watched Merriell shovel a larger bite of pie into his mouth.

“Mmm… Yep. God damn delightful.”

“Stop,” Evie said sheepishly, suddenly afraid he was overselling his reaction to keep from hurting her feelings.

“No,” he wiped his mouth and leaned across the table to meet her gaze with a sincere expression that stole away all the doubt writhing in her stomach.

“I mean it. If I wasn’t so full of pasta, I’d eat that whole damn pie right now.”

“Well,” Evie grinned softly, trying not to let her blush color her cheeks too obviously. “Thank you. And you’re welcome to take the rest of it when you go.”

Excitement took form on his face with a smirk that was sweet but roguish all at once—a sort of debonair charm that amplified his magnetism—as if his bright eyes dark curls and razor-sharp jaw did not make him alluring enough already. Again she had to look away knowing the pink in her cheeks would be too strong to combat.

“Imma have ta take ya up on that offah. An’ I’ll be thinkin’ ‘bout you every time I cut me a slice.”

That blush was unstoppable; her heart was suddenly so smitten, it felt as though butterflies were fluttering merrily in her stomach. She felt weightless with warmth and hope swelling in her bosom, fearing any slight breeze would carry her off. It was ridiculous how at ease Evie felt sitting there eating pie with a complete stranger. The conversation had been easy all night; even when it had delved into less savory topics he still made her feel comfortable. Evelyn had forgotten what it was like to be in the company of a man who wasn’t easy to anger, who was genuine and kind and wanted only to live in the moment.

For a time the whimsy of the atmosphere faded as the warmth in her heart ached, suddenly missing her brother James and Cynthia's brother Charlie. Both of them were good men, kind and genuine—like Merriell—but they had been swallowed by the rages of war. Brave young men were lost forever, while a man like Jonny Doyle was still alive How was that fair?

No matter how pleasant her thoughts could be, they always fell back to the grief that plagued her. She sighed, deeply, pushing those intrusive memories back into the depths of her mind so she could find joy once more in the moment with a kind stranger.

When Merrill finished his plate he made a beeline for the sink full of soaking dishes.

“Oh, no,” she said jumping to her feet. “I can do those.”

Merriell, however, shook his head. “Uh-uh, you did the cookin’, I can do the cleanin’.”

When Evie tried to argue, Mer simply shook his head, his grin amused but determined as he kept scrubbing the dirty dishes.

“Let me help at least,” she suggested. “I’ll dry and put them away.”

Before he could protest, she snatched the freshly rinsed dish from his hand and began wiping away the droplets of water clinging to the porcelain surface, throwing him a smug smirk that made him chuckle.

“Alright,“ he smirked.

She watched him for a moment not really paying attention to her task as he scrubbed the old plates clean, overcome with a blissful vision of peaceful domesticity. It made her stomach fill to the brim with whimsy and her heart was fluttering again; had this stranger bewitched her already? Or did what she feel bubbling lightly in her gut like a seltzer stem from an end to her loneliness—even if it was only for a few hours? Evelyn didn’t know. Nevertheless, she was intrigued with a profound feeling and she wanted to dwell in it for as long as she could.

Occasionally as he would hand a freshly washed dish her way, his calloused fingertips would brush against her skin, igniting a spark she didn’t know how to react to. It was more than an amicable tingle racing from the tips of her fingers right to her heart. And each time they touched, Merriell would cast her a gentle smile that held nothing more than his inherent charm and magnetism. She wondered if he felt it too, or if her need for companionship was playing a dirty trick on her.

When the dishes were all back in their usual places—the night drawing to a close—Evelyn realized she was not ready to say farewell to her Beautiful Stranger. She longed to stay up all night just chatting with him, she did not care about what, Evelyn only wanted to stay encompassed a while longer in the blissful warmth he brought into her life. Once he was gone, all she would be able to do was stay up and ponder the significance of those little touches and the sparks they brought.

Thankfully, Merriell lingered on the old rickety porch, one hand in his pocket, the other holding onto his plate of leftover pie, seeming to stall their inevitable departure.

“Well,” he said with a grin. “Thank you for invitin’ a stranger ovah for dinna.” He paused, glancing at the leftover pie in his hand. “Can’t recall ever having a better plate of pasta, an’ nothin’ evah gonna beat this pie.”

Evie quickly looked at her feet to hide another blush.

“It was the least I could do,” she told him before looking back to meet his eyes. “You have no idea how much of a savior you were this afternoon…”

A glint of concern flashed in his eye, his brows beginning to crease as his unspoken question lingered between them.

She thought about telling him—telling him how Jonny was nothing more than a throne in her side, and how much she cherished Merriells company—but Mer was still a stranger. It wasn’t right to unload so much onto someone she’d only known for a few hours.

Before Mer could offer any reply, the sound of screeching tires stole all their focus as an old wagon pulled along the curb—narrowly missing a collision with the mailbox. The rowdy passengers were laughing and shouting loud enough even before the door opened to let Jonny stumble out. He staggered on drunk feet and screamed a handful of profanities to his buddies in the car which made them all roar with laughter.

It was only after the wagon full of hooligans pulled away that Jonny began to stagger towards the house, and it was exactly then that Evie’s fluttering heart became consumed with panic.

She and Mer watched him cross the yard, unseen, both frozen: Evie in fear and Merriell in confusion. Jonny’s intoxication level inhibited him from taking notice of them until he was at the base of the steps leading onto the porch. Immediately, his eyes narrowed and he frowned.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Jonny, this is Mr. Merriell Shelton,” Evie said quickly, willing her voice not to shake.

The Doyle’s were not known for their hospitality, nor were they known to trust most people. Especially strangers.

“He helped me this afternoon with a bit of trouble I was having,” she explained vaguely, hoping to thwart any more suspicion. “I made him dinner to say thank you—he’s just about to leave.”

Jonny eyed Merriell, seizing him up as best he could through drunken lenses. Mer stood his ground, eyeing him back with a subtle intensity that never so much as cracked under Jonny’s scrutiny.

Finally, being the better man, Mer held out his hand in a friendly manner, “nice ta meet ya.”

Jonny cast a prolonged glare at Merriell's open hand, his brows furrowed and part of his lip hiked up in a sort of snarl. Instead of returning the kind gesture, Jonny made a show of spitting at his feet before tossing his heavy leer at Evelyn.

"Evie, do not invite any more strangers into my house. I don't care if they are dying." He shoved past them both, purposely bumping Mer's shoulder (most likely in hopes to start something) muttering as he went: "I don't trust any of these filthy southerners."

Shock sent Evie's jaw slack; this time the redness in her cheeks was a symptom of embarrassment instead of infatuation. She should have known Jonny would say something rude and uncouth. Without another thought, she grabbed Mer by his sleeve and pulled him across the lawn until they stood next to his truck parked along the curb.

"I am so sorry about him," she said, crossing her arms and glaring at Jonny's house, ashamed and angry.

Mer shrugged as he placed his partially eaten pie in the passenger seat through the open window before fixing his hands in his front pockets.

"Ya boyfriend's a bit of an asshole."

"He is not my boyfriend," Evie corrected vehemently. "I don't think he knows that though. I'm just staying here until I can figure some things out."

Merriell was quiet a moment, nodding silently. It seemed as though he was taking his time processing the whole situation. There was compassion on his face and behind his eyes, but it was guarded somehow. Evie caught it though and she was grateful when he didn't ask the questions plainly forming in his mind.

"Well," he said finally, his tone light as one corner of his mouth quirked into a grin. "Since he ain't ya othah half, I feel more inclined ta leave ya with this…"

Gently, Merriell caressed her upper arm as he leaned forward to plant a tender kiss on her cheek. He let his lips linger slightly longer than was common for such an act, that all at once wove a new hopefulness into her heart.

"Dinna was swell," he added as he pulled away, his smile somehow more charming than it had been all night. "Hope I see ya again, Evie."

"Me too," she murmured.

Evie watched as he got in his truck to leave, her hand held to the cheek he'd graced with his kiss. And when he drove away, it took everything inside of her to keep from running after him.

#Beautiful Stranger Series #Merriell Shelton x Original Character #Merriell Shelton #Snafu Shelton #HBO War #The Pacific #The Pacific Fanfiction #Rami Malek Fanfiction

[littlemisswriter]

Utterly Blindsided - Part 3

Summary:

The attack on the Templars is imminent but wasn’t the only thing Lily could focus on. Doing well to stick to the plan and distract the majority of the threat, giving Evie the opportunity to take the Precursor artefact. But with clouded minds on each other rather than the Templars, it only takes one slip up for things to come crashing down.

[One last part left after this one, I honestly can’t get enough of Jacob Frye. He consumes me. Anyway, enjoy :) x]

The sounds of multiple hooves tracked along the cobble, the horse drawn carriages completely unaware of the imminent ambush at hand. A moment of peace before suddenly, a smoke bomb thrown before the animals. The explosion startling the creatures and causing all movement to halt. The horses reared in fear as the smoke began to surround its target, the driver and shotgun making way on foot to see what trouble lurked.

They were only two of the many that disbanded from their positions to investigate what had them stop abruptly. Or more so, who. "Be on your guard!" One called out, a knife grasped tightly between his fingers. "There's someone out there." The sudden movement of shadows around them had them on high alert, the smog only seeming to dull their senses but heighten their heartrates.

A groan of pain sounded close to the front carriage, another shriek came from the opposite end as both bodies of those had suddenly disappeared. "Get back on the carriages!" An urgent call as those left scrambled back to their positions. "We're under attack!" Though most made it back, few didn't, which the assassins had been quick enough to intercept. The horses had been whipped into a gallop, taking off frantically at the yell of their drivers.

The Templars slipped through the smoke, only to gain a clear view of the extra passenger standing atop of the carriage. She unsheathed her hidden blade, making her strike to the shotgun rider, followed closely by disregarding the driver from the carriage. She sighed, content of procuring a carriage to lead the others astray. But it hadn't been as easy as all that. "There she is!" Lily spun her head around to see a few Blighters climb out from the inside and out onto the roof of the moving coach.

"Get her!" There were two, an angry looking woman and an overly sized brute, it was nothing but more trouble. Lily ducked the thrown hits, only to be yanked back by the scruff of her coat collar. Her fingers slipped from the reins, eyes narrowing in focus as the brute hauled her from her feet with a mere lift of his arm. It sat stubborn around her neck, the assassin driving her hidden blade into his elbow. A cry of pain accompanied her motion, the Blighter immediately releasing her as he clutched his wound.

"You bitch!" She hadn't faltered, spinning around lightly on her feet, easily swinging her leg around with her to kick him back off onto the street.

"You'll pay for that!" The remaining woman inherited her anger quite physically, threatening a knife to the assassin as she did so. "Prepare for death, assassin!" And death had indeed come, not to Lily at least.

The sound of a gunshot rang throughout the air, the bullet cleanly hitting its target as it pierced through the eyes of the Blighter. Lily could only watch as the red coated attacker dropped her knife and limply fall onto the carriage. But the lifeless body couldn't do more than to slip off and onto the street like a heavy sack off a cart.

"Are you alright?" The man who made the shot climbed from the back of the carriage to join Lily on top. Jacob's eyes grazed over her entirety, ensuring that she had no fatal injuries.

"I, I'm fine-" The carriage suddenly flung a hard left, Lily losing balance and finding her weight going to push her off and onto the ground to join the others. But a strong pair of arms caught her fall, tightly pulling her to their chest as they secured her down onto the roof. It was Jacob, and the warmth of his body, though now foreign, ignited something within Lily once more. Their eyes locked onto one another as she gripped tightly to the edges of his coat. They were close, the heat of each breathe being felt by the other.

"Hold onto me." Was the only thing that came from Jacob as he made way towards the reins. Nobody had been directing the horses, that startled at the gunshot and ran wildly through the streets. Jacob took control of the carriage once more, pulling the two assassins onto the seat safely.

The body contact stayed as Lily had found herself perched on Jacob's lap. A position she was no stranger too, but something she hadn't done in far too long. His arm kept wrapped around her torso as she stared wide eyed down at the assassin. Subconsciously, her fingers tightened to his collar, eyes looking between his as she sat pressed against him. He hadn't moved, making no sign to let go of the woman.

But with a snap from her by the yelling that chased them, she found her sights torn behind them to watch another pursuing carriage. More gunshots echoed throughout the city as Lily reacted without thought. She pulled her own pistol into the case of her hands, aiming towards the driver closely following behind. "Hold on!"

Jacob steered the horses a sharp right, leading them up and toward the bridge. His arm pressing Lily close still as she continued to defend against the Templars. They only need to draw them far enough for Evie to procure the artefact. But when had any mission been as simple as intended?

"Shit!" Jacob saw a few oncoming carriages making way toward him. They hadn't the speed or the time to completely make way around them. So he pulled back on the reins, the horses calling loudly to the action as the weight of the coach pulled all of them into the gutter where it had all gone sideways.

Lily and Jacob were flung out and onto the hard road, grunting as the impact had taken their breathe away. Coming to her hands and knees, Lily harnessed in on her breathing, her chest only able to take short intakes as she came too. More gunshots rung, a hand yanking her forearm up and dragging her behind the barrier of the carriage. It had been Jacob, kneeling before her as she pressed back, suffering to find a sturdy breathe. "J-Jacob."

"It's okay," one hand caressed her cheek as the other took hold of her shoulder, "you're okay." The stare of his hazel eyes bore into her own emerald gaze, trying to calm her by focusing her attention onto one place. "I won't let anything happen to you." If only the world could stop and the two could indulge in this moment. Lily once again finding her deeper breaths as Jacob supported her back to a completely aware state; but it hadn't lasted long. The Templars were close at hand, and they threatened their very lives. "Stay here, I'll be back."

With a hesitant retraction of his hands, he stepped out and towards the enemy, kukri blade current in his hand with the pistol in the other. Lily took a moment, slowly pulling back up to her feet to look out at the fight on the bridge. Anyone else that had been present was quick to scatter, the battle of Assassin versus Templars hard and fast. Jacob had been doing a well enough job of holding them off, but he couldn't effectively take five armed Templars all at once, not without Lily.

So with a swift throwing knife landing into the throat of the man closest to Jacob, she made her presence known. The younger twin looked back to watch as Lily made her own distant attacks to those who stood in her way, coming closer with eager restraint to combat those physically. Now two against the remaining, the pair had been stronger, getting better hits now being in a closer range. Jacob landed hard hits as Lily made quick damaging strikes, the attacks different yet still just as efficient as the other.

A female Templar, enraged at the chaos the Assassins had caused, swung wildly at Lily. Though all of her aimed stabs were countered or dodged, the anger only flaring at her inability to land a fatal attack on the assassin. She growled angrily, choosing to throw the knife at Lily that managed to only just evade it. Though in doing so, she stumbled back, losing her footing and hitting the cobble beneath her; the Templar sensing an opportunity and jumping at it.

Now on top of her with her hands clenched around Lily's throat, the assassin gasped while clenching her wrists tightly. A sick laugh, "now, now, jus' accept your fate you damned assassin." An idea quick to Lily's head as she moved a hand up onto the Templar's collar.

"No," she gasped, narrowing her eyes up at the older woman, "you accept yours." Then a flick of the wrist had slipped the blade from its gauntlet and into the flesh of the Templar. Hands loosened around her neck as she kicked off the weight, coughing to gain her sturdy breathe once more. But being caught off guard, even if for but a moment was enough to insight anyone into danger.

A brute Templar stood atop the drivers seat of his carriage, aiming a pistol at Lily who slowly came to her stance again. He had aimed to kill, the assassin in his sight and unaware of the danger. Jacob beat his last standing foe, looking round to challenge anyone else who dare take his strength for weakness. Though his eyes set upon the scene before him, snapping from Lily back to the Templar. A harsh intake of air was instantly followed by sudden movement. He came forward without thinking twice.

"Lily!" His scream had her spin her head over to watch him run desperately towards her. With a furrow of her brows, she caught the glimpse of the Templar, eyes widening in realization as her hand instantly grabbed for her weapon. But even with speed, it appeared the shot would go off, the bullet having chosen its target. "NO!" Jacob's body barged into hers, pulling himself between her and any danger as he tugged her close.

Then, the weapon took fire landing upon an assassin. Even if it wasn't originally the one intended. Lily's eyes widened as she felt the shock through Jacob's body, the two sharing a dreadful gaze of fear before Jacob began to fall forward. Watching her lover fall limp into her own body, she screamed, eyes brimming with tears as she wrapped one arm around Jacob as the other aimed her gun. The precision through her hatred shot the Templar in the heart, one shot having all danger on the bridge dissipate into silence once more.

"Jacob!" Lily caught the man, kneeling with his weight as he lay limp in her arms. "Jacob, look at me!" Adjusting the assassin in her hold, she kept an arm around his shoulders as she bore the rest of him upon her thigh. Her hand frantically pressed to his cheek, searching for sign of life as she clung to him. "No, no," Her attention diverted to the blood beginning to seep through his vest, tears already slipping down her cheeks in denial of losing him.

"L-Lily," he whispered, his own hand taking hold of hers on his cheek weakly. She grasped his shoulder tighter and looked up at him once more. A weak smile came by him as she shook her head, leaning it down to press her forehead to his.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, coming to realize her dropped guard had caused all of this. If she hadn't of looked away, hadn't of left Jacob's side... been more forgiving to the man that had eagerly saved her life... "I'm so sorry, Jacob." Her fingers clasped his as her tears dripped onto his face. His eyes shut momentarily, fighting off the weight pulling them down. "I-I'll fix this, I promise." She sniffled, leaning up to wrap her arms around him in attempt to lift the man.

"Lily..." His muttered, groaning as she hauled him up to his feet and dragged him desperately to the closest carriage.

"Stay with me, Jacob! Just a little while longer!" Ripping open the door, she lay the man down as gently as she could. He could only groan as she offered a kiss to his forehead. "I'll look after you." And with a last lingered look, she shut the carriage door and made way into the driver's seat. Urgency pumping through her body as she whipped the horses on, desperate to get medical help.

'Just hold on, Jacob. Stay with me.'