#yeah i repost my own art *does a little dance

[sadlittledib]

ref for a swatch design i will probably never draw exactly like this ever again. turns to ust

#deltarune #swatch #swatch deltarune #their hairfeathers are such a pain.. theyre actually really hard to draw #yeah i repost my own art *does a little dance #i have a secondary 'geometic/computer/canon-esque' design i need to make but ill do that... later #max arts #ill probably end up modifying this periodically as i see fit and my design changes #plus i always draw them different in every picture so shrug. its more about the body type than the outfit really

[tchallasbabymama]

M’Baku’s Love- Chapter 2

Sorry, had to repost it. For some reason it was all blacked out on mobile? Idk, it’s weird and I’m still trying to understand tumblr.

Anywho, here’s Chapter 2 of M’Baku’s Love. Check out my masterlist HERE to read chapter 1 if you haven’t already, and take a look at my other stories as well. As always, let me know what you think or if you want to be tagged in anything. Enjoy!

Word count: 2689

M’Baku pulled up to the Outreach Center a little earlier than necessary on Tuesday. He got out the automated car and leaned against it, crossing his arms as he scanned over the building and its surroundings while reflecting on the mission at hand. If they were successful, thousands of Black children, millions if they expand, would be given a better education and connected to their old, pre-colonizer ways.

He smiled at the thought and turned to grab his things, when he noticed a small rainbow dash from the other side of the parking lot into the building. It took him a moment to process what he saw, but he realized it was Miss In a Hurry, rushing yet again. He smiled fondly and shook his head before heading towards the Outreach Center, opening the door and heading inside the cool, air conditioned building.

Once the chief settled in his office he went over the assistant files one more time, preparing for their interviews. He went over his upcoming day in his head and remembered that his meeting with the head of the Arts Department was at 11. He smiled to himself, dreamily, at the thought of her bright teal hair and her deep dark eyes, but shook himself out of it when he was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Mr. M’Baku?” a tall, slender man who looked to be in his early twenties stood in the doorway dressed in slacks and a button-down.

“Yes, who is asking?”

“Deontae Greene, I’m here for my interview,” the young man introduced himself. They shook hands and the interview began. Truthfully, M’Baku didn’t need to interview the other candidates, he had already decided on hiring Deontae the moment his interview ended. He went through the motions of the second and third interview, focusing on the clock more than the interviewees. As soon as his third interview ended, he called Deontae to offer him the position, then went for a quick walk around the center to stretch his legs.

M’Baku found himself outside one of Shuri’s STEM courses, watching as the middle school aged children learned coding languages. She waved him in, and he tentatively stepped inside.

“Everybody, this is M’Baku. He’s the leader of the Jabari tribe in Wakanda.”

A chorus of “Hi M’Baku” erupted from the room, and he smiled before greeting them back.

“Mholo, children. What are you working on today?”

A little girl in the back with braces and pigtails was the first to answer.

“Princess Shuri is teaching us how to make computers work by telling it what to do in different computer languages.”

M’Baku looked at Shuri in confusion and she waved it off to explain later.

The large chief walked around the room to get a look at what they were doing, but quickly made it back to the front of the room when he caught a glimpse of the clock on the wall.

“I have a meeting, or I would stay longer princess.”

“Go, and don't be a stranger to this side of the center. Technology isn't all bad,” Shuri said with a wink as he left and shut the door behind him.

M’Baku’s long legs carried him back to his office in record time, where he was met with the sight of the head of the arts department sitting cross-legged in the chair outside his office, writing in a notebook.

“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, I wandered down to the STEM wing and lost track of time,” M’Baku rambled on until she looked up at him. Today she had on gold wire-rimmed glasses instead of her red cat-eye frames from the day before, and he liked that he could see her eyes better with this pair. When their eyes met his heart thumped a little louder and his skin felt a little warmer. He watched a small smile brighten up her face as she set her notebook down before unravelling her legs to stand up.

“I wasn’t waiting long. Plus it was your turn to be running late this time,” she responded. M’Baku gestured for her to enter the office first and she obliged before perching cross-legged in the chair across from him. He rounded the desk and sat down, looking into her eyes.

“I do not believe we were properly introduced to one another,” he held out his hand to her, shaking it from across the desk. “I am M’Baku, as you already know from yesterday.”

“Monae Johnson. It’s nice to officially meet you, M’Baku. And my apologies about the other day, I accidentally took a nap and woke up with barely enough time to- I’m rambling, my bad, I do that sometimes.” She rubbed the back of her head..

“It is no problem, really,” more than anything, M’Baku found her adorable.

“So did you end up trying the place I suggested?”

“Yes, I am actually glad you ran into me. I loved The V Spot. It was an excellent recommendation, thank you.” M’Baku had to give props where they were due and this woman definitely knew food. “You must tell me, what else is good in the area?”

“There’s so much! What do you like?”

“I am new to most cuisines, but I am open. Our meeting ends around lunchtime, would you care to accompany me and show me something I might like?”

Monae’s chest tightened up at his seemingly unintended double entendre. The man before her was fine as aged wine and she was having a very difficult time concentrating on the conversation, instead wishing she could see how soft his lips are. She looked down at the ring on her left ring finger and sighed, knowing she’d regret her decision.

“I’d love to.”

______

“You’re a vegan, right?”

“Vegetarian, but vegan is fine.”

“Ever tried Indian food?”

“I cannot say that I have.”

“Come on, there’s a place around here with some really good lunch specials. I hope you like it.”

“Well your last suggestion was superb, so I trust you,” he said with a wink. Monae blushed and turned away, but not before he noticed. M’Baku fought to contain his smile and cleared his throat. “So are you from Oakland?”

“Nope, I’m from Nashville. A southern girl at heart,” she said with her best southern debutante affectation. “I came to Cali for college and just never left.”

“What made you stay?”

“Honestly? It never gets cold here, not the type of cold that seeps into your bones anyway. The worst I’ve felt here is chilly. I’m not made for anything below 50 degrees.”

“As chief of the Jabari I must say I am a little offended, Miss Johnson.”

Monae’s face twisted up, but then softened when she saw the glint in his eye. Was he flirting?

“My apologies, your highness,” she said with a curtsey. “But I’ll admire it from afar.” Her ring flashed in her line of vision, but she shook it out of her mind.

“Besides, you are wrong. Anything over 40 degrees is unfit for habitation. The weather here makes me want to crawl into my refrigerator.”

Monae shivered at the thought.

The two of them arrived at Bombay Palace and since he trusted her judgement, she ordered for the table. The waiter took their menus and quickly brought their waters with lemon slices.

“Are you a vegetarian as well?”

“Um sometimes. I don't eat red meat, but I still eat fish and poultry on occasion. I’m mostly plant-based though. I read that the Jabari are pescetarian, what made you switch over?”

“You have been reading about us, eh?”

“Well I like to know who I’m working with, and I imagine that over the next few months we’ll be seeing a lot of each other, so yes I read about the Jabari.”

“Yes, I would hope so,” M’Baku said before taking a sip of his water while watching her. He noticed her shiver under his gaze and adjust herself in the booth and he smirked, knowing he was getting to her. “And I just do not like the taste of fish very much. Earlier you mentioned having a dance background, do you still dance?”

“I’m so busy I barely have enough time nowadays outside of teaching a class at the center here and there.”

The waiter returned with their samosa appetizer and Monae danced in her seat a little, making M’Baku crack a smile at her endearing antics. They both dug in, M’Baku immediately thanking Hanuman for the food he had received. The familiar yet unfamiliar tastes swirled around in his mouth like a gold medal ice skater at the winter olympics, and he couldn’t get enough.

“Mmm, what is this?”

“Samosas.”

“I could eat this for the rest of my life and die a happy man.”

Monae giggled and almost choked on her food, “This is just the first course, wait until you taste the paneer.”

The two of them continued to talk as more food came out, not watching the time at all.

“How does your family feel about you living so far away?”

“Well my little sister is in college at NYU, living her own life, and my parents died six years ago in a car crash, so they don't feel much of anything anymore.”

He was torn between laughing at her joke and feeling a deep sadness for her loss.

“What’s your family like?”

“I am the oldest of ten-”

“Ten?!”

“Yes.”

“Your poor mama...”

M’Baku’s laughter roared through the restaurant and forced a laugh out of Monae as well. Of course his laugh was as big as he was, and her mind briefly wondered if everything about him was proportional to his size before she was pulled out of her daydream by a ringing telephone. She looked down and her face dropped when she read the name on her screen. “Shit. Uh, sorry I have to answer this- Hi honey...yeah of course...uh-huh...no, just out at lunch with a colleague-”

He couldn’t believe his ears. He knew for a fact that she was flirting with him, yet here he was talking to her “honey.” He wanted to roll his eyes, but instead returned them to his bowl and kept eating.

“Hey, D, can I call you back? We’re just about done here...Ok, bye.” She hung up the phone and cleared her throat.

“Boyfriend?”

“Fiance actually,” she said, showing off the ring on her finger.

“Interesting…”

“What is?”

M’Baku leaned back in his chair and looked into her eyes as he spoke.

“I was not aware you were already spoken for.”

Something about the tone of his voice made her face heat up and she crossed her legs tighter.

“I have my ring on, what would make you think otherwise?”

“That right there,” he gestured to her flushed skin and fidgeting lower half. “You are awfully flirty for someone who is betrothed.”

Monae had hoped he wouldn’t notice and they could carry on like earlier, but the moment was ruined.

M’Baku looked at his watch, realizing they spent almost two hours at the restaurant. “We should get back to the center, I am sure we are missed.”

“M’Baku, I’m sorry to lead you on, but that wasn’t my intention, I just-”

“There is no need to explain, Monae.” He flashed her his gap-toothed smile and called for the waiter to bring their check. He paid, not without plenty of arguing on her end, and they headed back to work.

Shortly after he made it back to his desk the king and prince barged in.

“Soooo…?” N’Jadaka tried to get the conversation going, but M’Baku wasn’t following.

“How did it go?” T’Challa added.

“How did what go?”

The cousins looked at each other in exasperation, and yet again the hot headed prince pushed the issue further.

“Your date nigga! We saw you and Monae walking all close and shit.”

“It was not a date,” He loved the Udakus dearly, but Hanuman, they could be an annoying and intrusive bunch. “She is engaged.”

“Barely,” the cousins said with an eye roll.

“What do you mean ‘barely’?”

“My friend, she has been engaged for three years now with no wedding plans in place and he is almost never home. Like we said: barely.”

M’Baku would never knowingly break up a happy home, but he saw her body language on the phone and she didn’t seem to be as into her fiance as she was into him. Yes he was shiny and new, but the exasperation in her voice at his interruption told him what he needed to know.

“Far be it from me to advocate for adultery, but-”

“It ain't far from me, cuz,” N’Jadaka butted in. “Bak, that beautiful fairy of a woman likes your big ape ass for some reason. Fuck that nigga, she was looking at you like you’re already daddy.”

M’Baku looked over to T’Challa who was nodding in agreement. He had watched her during their department head meeting and every time M’Baku spoke she perked up and the tension fell from her shoulders. She was definitely feeling him.

“I have met this fiance just once and did not get a good vibe from him. I am not sure what it is yet, but there is something-”

M’Baku cut him off before he could even finish. He knew if he let them continue they would end up hatching a plan and roping him into it, so he nipped it in the bud.

“Do not worry about it, I would prefer to remain unattached for the short while I am here, anyway. Now if you know someone who would like something more casual, I would not mind meeting them at some point.”

“I’ll keep an eye out, brother”

“I think the newest history teacher is single, or at least there's no ring on her finger. I can’t remember her name though, is it Keisha? Naima? Whatever it is, she’s fine as hell,” N’Jadaka’s hands outlined her voluptuous body for him, which caught his interest. “I’ll see what I can do. We gon get you some pussy bruh, on Bast.”

T’Challa simply nodded in agreement again.

“Thank you both for your concern,” M’Baku responded dryly. “Now if you gentlemen would excuse me, I have to meet with the social studies department head in a minute.”

“We understand when we are not wanted, but please at least let N’Jadaka set you up. You need to get back out there again, it’s been more than enough time,” the king patted his friend’s shoulder before leaving the room, his cousin doing the same.

______

M’Baku’s last meeting didn’t end until 5 pm, and he was more than ready to get home, cook dinner, and watch a little more Fresh Prince. He packed up his things and headed out towards his car, when out of the corner of his eye he spotted Monae on the other side of the parking lot struggling with several boxes. He jogged over and took them from her hands.

“Here, let me.”

“How are you everywhere?” She laughed.

“You are just lucky, I guess.” He flashed her his million-dollar smile and she was hooked again. Derrick be damned.

“Yeah, I guess I am...um, thank you M’Baku...well uh, I should go. Busy day tomorrow with the open house and all.”

“Ah yes, what exactly is an open house?”

She chuckled at his naivety.

“Basically people from the community get to come here after hours to see what we offer. Think of it like a mass tour.”

“Interesting, well since I have nothing to show them on this tour I am sure I will have time to help if you need it.”

“Thank you, M’Baku, I just might take you up on that.”

“Good. Well, you should go home and rest for the big day ahead. I will see you tomorrow Monae.”

“Get home safe!”

It warmed his heart to hear her caring about his safety, even if it's something she said to everybody. A dreamy smile parted his lips and he felt as if she had just kissed his cheek and sent him on his way.

“You as well, Monae. You as well...”

Next Chapter

#cecewritessometimes #black panther fic #m'baku #m'baku's love #m'baku x oc #black!oc #fluff #jada kingdom

[songtoyou]

Chapter One: Move You

Would You Call That Love

Pairing: Chris Evans x Raina Morrison (OC) Rating: PG-13 (Will be 18+ for some chapters)

Description: There was always one person Chris Evans tended to turn to when he was not in a committed relationship, Raina Morrison. He could confide in her about things going on in his life that he did not feel comfortable talking to his family or close friends about. Chris and Raina were able to establish a way to communicate with one another openly but also being respectful of the other’s time and needs. It was the only constant “relationship” he had, but without all the nonsense of trying to build a life together. A “friends with benefits” situation.However, what happens when Chris starts rethinking his “relationship” with Raina and if either is willing to pursue something more?

Chapter Rating: PG

Warnings: Mention of anxiety

Word Count: 2,530

Note: This is the first fic I have written in ages. Everything about it is fiction. Sadly, I do not know Chris Evans and this is just a fictional take on his life. I do not permit this fic to be reposted on other platforms.  

Thank you to @southerngracela​ and @sullyosully for the support. I also want to give a shout out to @royallyprincesslilly​​ for the text divider. 

*Updated for grammar edits.

June 2019

The early morning sun was peeking out of the sky, and the air became crisper after a night of pouring rain. It was supposed to be a scorcher day in June, according to the weather reports. That was not something Chris Evans was looking forward to since he would have to be on-set partaking in outdoor scenes wearing sweaters, business suits, and heavy coats for most of the day. Despite the uncomfortableness his job could be at times; it was all worth it in the end. Acting was Chris’s passion, and he was fortunate to do it for a living. Chris knew he was lucky to be where he is at in his career. From the ups and downs to disappointing film projects that either went nowhere or were rejected by critics and moviegoers, it all helped steer Chris to become the actor he is today. 

With Captain America’s story arch now complete, Chris understood that it would take a while for audiences and some of his fans not just to see him as Steve Rogers. Taken on Marvel’s top Avenger’s mantle was one of the best decisions he ever made as it took his career to new heights. Yes, Chris had some reservations at first when he was approached for the role. He did not feel confident enough if he could handle the responsibility of playing such an iconic character. Chris was also worried about losing his anonymity. He liked being able to walk down the street with no one recognizing him or asking for a photo and autograph. Now Chris was lucky to make it a few blocks without someone yelling out at him or screaming “Captain America!”, it most definitely did not help ease his anxieties. 

“You got that Marvel money saved up. You can live comfortably while pursuing projects that people would not expect you to take. It’s a win-win situation for you,” said Raina, one of Chris’s best friends, when mentioning the project, Defending Jacob. 

“You sound like my mom when you say that,” Chris replied.

Raina laughed at that and said, “I take that as a compliment, you know.”

“Good. I meant it as one. You both don’t take shit from anyone. And I know you’ll always have my back as she does.” 

Raina and his mom kept telling him to accept the lead role as Andy Barber in Defending Jacob. And how it would not only be beneficial to his career, but also because 1.) the show was filming in Massachusetts so that he would be in his own home every night, and 2.) it was a role he never played before: a father.

Sipping his coffee, Chris stood on the porch of his house as he watched Dodger relieve himself. “Come on, buddy. Let’s get you some breakfast,” Chris waved Dodger over to get inside. The pup was happy to oblige his owner and trotted up the steps into the house.

Chris heard his cellphone buzz just as he put down Dodger’s food bowl. Reaching over the counter to retrieve it, Chris smiled when he saw the name pop up.

Raina: Why didn’t anyone tell me that New York is always hot as balls! I can’t take it!

Chris: I warned you about that, but you didn’t listen to me. What are you doing up so early?

Raina: Couldn’t sleep. Nervous about the preview shows for Moulin Rouge. It is coming up quickly. 

Chris: Again, congrats on Moulin Rouge. You got nothing to be nervous about; you are going to be great. 

Raina: I’m just worried if people will like the show. 

Chris: You and the crew wouldn’t have gotten to Broadway if people weren’t interested in seeing it, especially with you as Satine. This is what you were born to do. Scott, Ma, and I will be there on opening night. Carly and Shanna won’t be able to come but plan to see the show on a girls’ trip to New York later in the summer. I know both are proud of you as well. 

Raina: Stop! You are going to make me cry. All of you are so sweet. Seriously, I am forever grateful to you and your amazing family for supporting me all these years.

Chris: Can you believe it has been ten years since we met at that Vanity Fair photoshoot for West Side Story. 

Raina: Oh God! Do not remind of that shoot. I was a ball of nerves that day.

Chris: I thought the paramedics were going to need to be called for you.

Raina: Haha. Seriously though, they probably would have if you didn’t help calm me down.

 January 2009

“Wait, what is this photoshoot about?” Raina asked her manager, Jerry, who sighed in response.

“Raina, I’ve already told you. It is to celebrate the Broadway revival of West Side Story. The photographer is re-creating scenes from the film version,” explained Jerry.

Now it was Raina’s turn to let out a sigh. Despite being in the music industry since she was 16 years old, the whole idea of photoshoots still did not make her comfortable. Plus, the long hours, the bright lights, and the shoots’ craziness left Raina feeling drained. It was now adding other celebrities to the mix brought on a whole new set of anxieties.

“You don’t have anything to worry about,” Jerry assured Raina and added, “Today’s going to be easy. You don’t have to worry about being front and center this time. You’ll be in the background so that you can relax.”

“If you say so,” Raina retorted with a small smile. She trusted Jerry.

When Raina finally arrived at the photoshoot, she was whisked away to hair and makeup and then onward to change her costume. She had already been introduced to her fellow photo mates, such as Ashley Tisdale and Robert Pattinson. Both were very pleasant and nice. 

“I am such a huge fan. I have all of your albums,” Ashley gushed admirably. 

“Thank you. That is very sweet of you to say. I loved your album ‘Headstrong,’ by the way. Such great bops,” Raina complimented, and Ashley’s face lit up like a Christmas tree.

As the two made their way to the set, each shared what project they were currently working on until Ashley stopped dead in her tracks.

“What is it?” Raina asked, concerned.

“Chris Evans,” whispered Ashley and went on, “Chris Evans is over there.”

“Yeah, didn’t you know he’d be here? Oh my God, you guys didn’t use to date, did you?”

“Ha! I wish. He is just so cute,” Ashley said dreamily.

Raina just laughed and shook her head, “Yeah, he isn’t bad looking.”

They filmed the dance scene from the movie where Maria and Tony see each other for the first time. Camilla Belle and Ben Barnes were assigned the lead roles for the shoot. Raina had to admit; both looked the part. The photographer, Mark Seliger, gathered everyone around to discuss how the scene would go. He started placing people in their spots with Jennifer Lopez and Rodrigo Santoro in their positions as lead Shark dancers Anita and Bernardo, with Camilla and Ben on their respective sides. Ashley was assigned as a Jet girl dancing with Chris’s character, the Jets leader, Riff. 

Raina hid her smile when Ashley shook Chris’s hand and introduced herself. Poor thing looked as if she could faint. Settled in the back, Raina was one of the Sharks. She was perfectly content where she was at standing next to Minka Kelly and Jay Hernandez. The three would even make little side chat here and there. 

Overall, the photoshoot was going well. Until the bright lights, the loud music, and the uncomfortable costume started getting to Raina. She felt like she was going to pass out.  However, Raina was determined to pull through in fear of being labeled a “diva” or, worse, “difficult” to work with; that was not the kind of press she needed now. Remembering what her mother told her to do when the first signs of an anxiety attack were coming on was to breathe in and out. She did that a couple of times as she closed her eyes when Mark said they were changing film and wanted a couple more shots. 

Unsurprisingly, someone else was beginning to get restless during the shoot as well. Chris was not a fan of photoshoots. He always felt awkward and never understood what he was supposed to be doing. He would continuously worry if he were coming off stupid or looking like a fool. 

Chris was more cautious of the types of photoshoots he would take part in and made sure to steer clear of the ones wanting him to be viewed as eye-candy merely. He was working hard to make a trajectory in his career from heartthrob to serious actor. However, Chris knew he had more to prove to audiences and critics for them to see past his ‘Not Another Teen Movie’ or ‘Fantastic 4’ roles. 

Nevertheless, when he got word about Vanity Fair’s West Side Story photoshoot, Chris was immediately on board. He was a theater kid, after all, thanks to his mother. Similarly, with other shoots, it all starts the same. The photographer talks about the art direction of the shoot and expectations for the day.  

During the short breaks on set, Chris looked around to see the other actors and performers. While he knew some of the folks on set, he did not honestly know any of them personally. The only person he was more acquainted with was Camilla, and that was because both filmed the movie Push a year ago.

As Chris’s eyes roamed around the room, they landed on Raina, who was fanning herself with her hands. While others were making small talk, he noticed that Raina took deep breaths and her eyes were closed. She stepped down on the chair she was standing on to take a seat and put her head in her hands. 

Chris felt bad. He knew an anxiety attack when he saw one. Slowly making his way over to Raina, he kneeled in front of her.

“Hey, are you okay?” Chris asked in a whisper.

Raina jumped at the sound of his voice. She did not expect anyone to come up to check on how she was doing. She thought she was doing her best to be discreet.

“I don’t know. It’s too hot in here. The lights are hurting my eyes, and it’s hard to breathe,” Raina said, continuing to fan herself.

Instinctively, Chris reached out to hold one of Raina’s shaking hands to help calm her down. 

“Have you ever tried the 4-7-8 breathing technique?”

Raina shook her head no and said, “Never heard of that technique.”

“Trust me; it has helped me out a lot. Okay, so you’re going to breathe in for four seconds, hold it for seven seconds, and exhale for eight seconds. Do you want to try it with me? Breathe in 1, 2, 3, 4. Hold 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 and exhale 1, 2, 3, 4 ,5, 6, 7, 8. Very good. Let’s do it again,” Chris calmly instructed Raina.

“I’ll get you some water. Just keeping doing the breathing exercises, okay.”

When Chris returned, he again kneeled in front of Raina and handed her the water cup.

“Thank you,” said Raina as she sipped slowly.

“You’re welcome.”

Raina let out a little chuckle, “I can’t believe I had an anxiety attack. I told Jerry I was worried about this happening. Again, thank you. I appreciate you helping me out,” expressed Raina gratefully.

As Raina continued to sip her water, Chris took the time to look at her. She was attractive, and he could tell she was a little bit younger than him. While this was Chris’s first-time meeting Raina, he had seen her before at other Hollywood functions. Neither having their paths cross until now.

“Okay, folks, let’s get back in your positions!” Mark yelled to get everyone’s attention.

“You going to be okay?” asked Chris as he stood up.

“Yes. I’m going to be fine,” answered Raina, standing up as well.

Chris helped her back up on the chair, and he returned to his spot next to Ashley. It was weird. No one else seemed to notice what went on between the two. It was like for those few short moments, Chris and Raina were in their own world. 

Chris kept stealing glances towards Raina for the rest of the shoot. He kept telling himself it was to make sure she was okay, not that he was drawn to her or anything. 

‘Don’t go there, Evans. The last thing you need is to be in a relationship, and she doesn’t look like the type to do hookups,’ Chris scolded himself and added, ‘Most likely won’t ever see her again after this day.’

“I am glad that it didn’t take long for us to meet again after that day. We do have Scott and Shanna to thank for that, by the way,” Chris happily reminded Raina.

He decided to call her that morning after their text exchange. He preferred hearing her voice anyways. 

“Oh yeah, at my concert in Boston. It was fate. We were destined to be friends.”

“Yep. Even though you are a fan of the New York Mets and Giants fan, I still love ya,” teased Chris.

Raina groaned, “Let us not bring up sports, shall we. It can only get ugly from here. Anyways, I’ll let you go. I gotta start heading out for rehearsals. Talk to you later. Bye,” said Raina.

“Bye, sweetheart. Take care,” replied Chris and ended the call. 

He looked over at Dodger, who had finished eating and was now lying in one of his dog beds near the kitchen table. As Chris continued to sip his coffee, he decided to make breakfast and went to the fridge to take some eggs. Once he got everything ready to begin cooking, his mind drifted to Raina. Chris noticed that his mind had been doing that more recently lately. 

For Chris, his relationship with Raina was more than just a friendship. She was someone he could confide in about things he was not comfortable bringing up to his family or close childhood friends. Their friendship evolved when both began a “friends with benefits” type of relationship. This would only occur when both were not in committed relationships with other people. 

Surprisingly, this arrangement only managed to make them closer friends. The boundaries they agreed upon were put in place not to fracture their friendship. He went into the situation not wanting to build some domesticated life with Raina. However, at times, Chris kept thinking if he could turn his friendship with Raina into something more. Something more than friends, more than sex buddies, but as a life partner. A wife and mother to his children.

‘Stop lying to yourself,’ Chris’s inner voice spoke up, ‘You’re in love with Raina. Just admit it!’

Nevertheless, Chris could not admit to himself. He was not ready to deal with those feelings for one of his closest friends. 

Not yet, at least. 

#chris evans #chris evans x ofc #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x original female character #chris evans x oc

[ravensading]

It Was You - Chapter 3

*Please no reposting any of this story.  I don’t own BTS or any of their characters

"So you're back for good then?" Jimin asked, as the bartender put their drinks in front of them.

Jungkook nodded.

"I'm happy for you, Kook. You're finally being accepted."

Jungkook took a sip of his drink. "I guess."

Jimin rolled his own glass in his hands. "Your hyungs are fair. They're making things right for you."

He couldn't argue against that. Even though his stepfather didn't acknowledge him, his stepbrothers had done what they could to help him along. He couldn't have asked for more.

Jimin smiled. "Maybe we can do some joint work between the dance academy and the art gallery in the future."

Jungkook smiled back. "That would be nice." He looked at his friend. "How are things between you and Rose?"

Jimin bit his lip. "It's complicated."

"We've all known each other forever, hyung. Why so shy?"

"She knows everything about me."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"Yeah...or a terrifying thing. I don't know. We'll see." He brushed it off...again. Jimin smiled slyly. "That girl Rose and I saw you with the other evening is pretty."

Jungkook looked at his friend. "She's off-limits."

"Really? I didn't see any branding."

"I work with her. She's off-limits."

"That's never stopped us before." Jimin said thoughtfully. "Are you interested in her?"

"No." Jungkook said, perhaps a bit too quickly.

But Jimin knew him too well to have missed that. "That's too bad." Jimin said. He'd let that go...for now. "See those 3 girls at the corner of the bar?"

Jungkook didn't even look up from his glass. "The ones with the shimmery dresses?"

Jimin smiled widely. "One thousand dollars to whomever can take 2 out of 3 home."

Jungkook smiled wolfishly. He paused when a pair of blue eyes flashed in his mind. He downed the rest of his drink. "Two thousand to the one who can get all 3."

"Deal."

**********

"I'm so happy that you could come with me to the menu tasting last minute."

"Happy to help." Yuna said brightly. She adjusted her oversized sweater. "But shouldn't you be doing this with Jin-oppa?"

"He had a last minute emergency. Hence, the last minute ask." Celia explained.

The chef came out to greet them, obviously smitten with Celia. Yuna didn't mind. She had spent her whole life with people telling her how beautiful her sisters are, and they were. But Yuna also knew that being known for your beauty took a lot of work and

discipline, even if you were naturally attractive in the first place.

Yuna shifted in her seat when Celia brightened at someone behind her.

"I'm sorry, sweetie." A voice said, and Jin came around to give her sister a hug from behind.

Yuna immediately stood up.

"I thought you couldn't make it." Celia asked, holding his hand.

"Namjoon said that he'd take care of it for me."

Celia smiled. "Thank him for me." She looked up at someone still behind Yuna. "Kook. So nice to see you again."

Yuna's eyes widened and she turned around.

Jungkook looked as surprised to see her as she was him.

"What are you doing here?" They asked at the same time.

Celia and Jin exchanged glances. "Do you know each other?"

"We're friends. We work together." Jungkook replied.

"Are you serious?" Jin asked.

"What do you mean?" Yuna said, incredulously.

"Jungkook is my youngest brother."

"And Yuna is my youngest sister." Celia put in.

Jungkook and Yuna just gaped at each other.

"But...he's..." Yuna couldn't get the words out.

The chef came to the table with the appetizers to taste. Yuna quickly gestured to Jin to take her vacated seat. The chef waved a server over to seat Yuna and Jungkook at a nearby table.

"Oh no, that's okay." Yuna said, knuckles white as she picked up her purse. "This is their deal."

"But I made you miss breakfast so that you'd be able to do this with me." Her sister insisted. She caught her sisters arm and steered her and Jungkook towards the table. "Just sit, and enjoy. We'll take care of it."

Celia left the two of them. Yuna sat with her back straight, eyes wide. Jungkook fiddled with his watch.

"So."

"So." He returned. "This is kind of cool."

What?!?!?!

"You know, we'll be kind of related."

Yuna paled. Oh my God. And we slept together what does that make us? But we're not blood related, so it should be okay. OMGOMGOMG. Why isn't he panicking? Of course! He doesn't know. He doesn't even recognize that it was me. Wait...

"But your last name isn't Kim." She pointed out slowly.

He reddened. "It's a long story."

"I have time. At least 5 courses of time."

He fiddled with his watch again.

She pushed her panic away as she picked up her fork as an old news item came into her mind. "Jeon." She said thoughtfully. "The mining family." Her gaze sharpened as she looked at him. "You're the lost prince."

His face hardened at the reference.

She realized what she said and put a hand on his. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

He sighed. "It's okay. The media had a field day with that one."

She started recalling parts of the story in her mind. She would have been too young to know, but she remembered her mother talking to her aunties about the high society gossip. She seemed to remember that Jungkook had been the only son of the eldest

son of a generations old mining family. Mega wealthy. When he passed away prematurely, his brothers fought over who would run the empire. The will had stated that Jungkook would inherit everything, but being 10-years-old, with uncles who had vulture-

like lawyers on retainer, Jungkook and his mother was kicked out with little more than the shirts off their backs.

His father had been close friends with the patriarch of the Kim family, whose money was made from hotels and other hospitality ventures. He had been widowed himself for barely a year when he married Jungkook's mother. That in itself had caused a

scandal, since the runour had been that he had wanted her for himself when they were young, but she had chosen Jungkook's father. Jungkook's stepfather was a prideful man, and even though he was never antagonistic towards the boy, he was not

accepting either. To try to protect her son from the media, she sent him away to school in Europe and North America, only coming home for the holidays.

Unlike Seokjin, Namjoon, and Mingi who had received money for all of the best education, this was not extended to Jungkook. So his mother saved everything she could so that he would receive a good education.

"It doesn't sound like he was particularly extravagant with your mother either."

Jungkook shrugged. "He was frugal overall. My mother said that it was because he was poor growing up."

"It must have been tough."

He nodded. "I would come home for holidays and summers, and at first, it seemed that everyone was welcoming, but I gradually learned that people only wanted to be my friend to get to my hyungs, who had taken the stance of being my protectors. Guys

and girls would try to make friends, and then ask to be introduced to them. That was a hard lesson."

"Yeah." Yuna said softly, thinking of her own childhood. "You must have made some friends who like you for you."

Jungkook grinned. "Rose? That girl that we saw the other evening? Her and Jimin and I grew up together. The three of us and Hanul, who's working in Paris at the moment." His expression softened as he thought back. "We got into a lot of trouble the

summers I was home. Because they were here all the time, eventually it got to the point where they would just tell me if someone was befriending me for me or my hyungs."

"How often were they right?"

"Often enough for me to believe them."

Yuna put her fork down as the next course was brought over.

Jungkook looked sheepish. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to dump on you. I don't usually tell people about my childhood, but you're really easy to talk to."

She smiled. "That's okay. I grew up to be a pretty good listener."

"I can tell."

Yuna tried one bite of the steak and pushed it away.

"Do you not like it?" Jungkook asked.

"It's delicious, but I'm getting full and there's still more food coming." SHe caught him eyeing the steak. "Would you like to finish it? If you don't mind that I took a bite of out it."

He smiled widely, showing his teeth.

She laughed and switched their plates.

"Thanks." He said sweetly, as he dug in.

**********

Jin and Jungkook were riding back to their offices together after the menu tasting.

"So what did you think of the food?"

"It was delicious, hyung. Thanks for inviting me to tag along."

Jin glanced at the maknae. "Seems like the food wasn't the highlight."

"What do you mean, hyung?" Jungkook asked, confused.

"Yuna. You two seemed to get along really well."

He smiled. "We do! But it might be because we also work together. She's a developer at HopeWorld Games."

Jin looked thoughtful. "You know, I didn't even think to put two and two together. She's the prodigy that came up with that video game while she was in university, right? Something with dragons?"

"Yes, hyung. That's her! She's really great. For someone who got so much recognition when she was young, she's really down to earth."

"That's true. I heard that she also got the hard end of it being the sister of beauty queens too, though."

"How so?"

"Seems like she had a few boyfriends who actually had their eye on her sisters. One in particular that she may have had feelings for even."

Jungkook was silent. He knew how that felt. "Sounds like the three of them of really close though."

"They are. I don't know Yuna as well as Grace, but everything I heard makes her sound like a great person."

"She is, hyung." Jungkook confirmed, vouching for her.

Jin smiled. "Are you interested in her, Kook?"

Jungkook smiled shyly. "I do like her, but I'm not sure in that way. I'm still thinking of someone else..."

"Ah." Jin recalled. "The mystery girl from the engagement party."

Jungkook blushed. "Have your photos come in yet?"

"No, the photographer got sick so there is a delay in getting them edited. He also took a lot, so it's taking a while." He looked at Jungkook. "There were a lot of people there. She may not be in any of the pictures, and even if she is she may have been a plus 1." He warned, trying not to get Jungkook's hopes up.

Jungkook got a glint in his eye. "Maybe, maybe not. After all, she left with me, right?"

**********

#btsfanfiction #btsfanfic #jungkook&reader

[artificialqueens]

Undone, Chapter 9 (Bitney) - Stephanie/Veronica

A/N: Welcome to Chapter 9 of UNDONE, our Bitney lesbian AU. Here’s a link to the previous chapters. This is a repost from AO3/RGF - once we’re caught up, new chapters will go up.

Summary: Here we pick up where we left off in Chapter 8, with Courtney’s cabaret performance at the Rockwell.

TW: This story deals with themes of emotional abuse, and since that can be subtle, we’re going to keep a general TW on all of the chapters, even when it seems like it doesn’t apply.

***

Bianca’s eyes burn as she watches Courtney smile, bathed in the glow of the spotlight, basking in the cheers. Alexis has a hand on her shoulder, and leans in to whisper something in her ear, causing Courtney’s eyes to glitter with laughter.

Adore grins at Bianca and mutters, “How fucking hot does she look?”

Bianca just nods, taking a sip of her wine to cover her inability to speak.

“Thank you!” Courtney calls. “And let’s hear it for our wonderful host! How amazing is she? You know, besides putting together this entire evening and hosting and singing, about two hours ago she decided that she also needed to do my makeup. Apparently I can’t be trusted with an eyeshadow palette.”

“This is true,” Alexis laughs. “And I wasn’t wrong.”

“You’re a great friend,” Courtney says, flashing her a dazzling smile.

“And you’re a work of art. Break a leg, baby.” Alexis tosses her a few kisses before exiting the stage.

Courtney watches her leave, then turns back to the audience with a slightly nervous little shrug. Her eyes have adjusted to the lights and she can begin to make out faces in the crowd.

“Well, okay then. Just us now.”

Adore lets out another whistle, catching her eye. When she looks over at their table, she sees Bianca and can feel the hairs standing up on the back of her neck. She tries to play off her nerves with a coy toss of her hair, giving herself a moment to get composed before she continues.

“So...I don’t know about the rest of you, but this year has been a very strange one for me. Particularly the part where our democracy seems to be crumbling before our very eyes.”

Weak laughter and few scattered groans sound from the crowd.

“Too real? I’m sorry,” Courtney says. “Listen, I feel your pain. Which is why I chose this first song. I wrote it last year after Burning Man.”

Bianca grins to herself. Of fucking course she wrote it after Burning Man.

“See, there was this moment when my friends and I were on the dance floor at Opulent Temple and Diplo was DJ'ing. That moment when you let go of everything before and after, and you connect with yourself, the people you are with and the dance floor. No words necessary; you’re in the moment. The music sets you free.” She nods to the band, looking out into the crowd. “I hope you like it…”

Bianca is on the edge of her seat as Courtney begins to sing, transfixed by how beautiful she is, how she moves, but more than anything, by the mesmerizing sound of her voice. It’s a fun, upbeat number, but there’s also a hint of throatiness in her voice that stirs something deep inside Bianca.

“When I don’t even know my name, when my reckless can't be tamed And when the DJ sets us free, will be in ecstasy…”

Bianca is slightly relieved for the distraction when the server comes back to their table, setting another glass of wine in front of her. As Courtney finishes the song, she nearly forgets to clap until she sees Adore jump up screaming.

“Thank you so much!” Courtney says, bowing her head. “Obviously, dancing is my favorite extracurricular activity. Well, one of my favorites.”

The crowd chuckles and Bianca can feel heat creep into her cheeks.

“This next song kind of...well, I’m going through a, let’s just say a sex positive phase. I like that better than slutty. Uh, also known as my twenties.” Courtney grins and flutters her lashes to the friendly laughter of the crowd. “It was written and performed by one of my fellow Aussies.”

“Kylie!” shouts a man in the front.

“No, but...I love you, and hold that thought,” Courtney laughs as the music starts. “And be kind, okay? Because this is my attempt to be sincere.” As the piano plays a slow, hauntingly familiar melody, she closes her eyes briefly and begins.

“Party girls don't get hurt Can't feel anything, when will I learn I push it down, push it down…”

This version of the song is so visceral, so much slower than the original, that it takes Bianca a second to recognize it. She feels like she’s hearing the lyrics for the first time.

“I'm the one ‘for a good time call’ Phone's blowin' up, ringin' my doorbell I feel the love, feel the love…

“1 2 3, 1 2 3, drink 1 2 3, 1 2 3, drink 1 2 3, 1 2 3, drink Throw 'em back till I lose count…”

Tears prick Bianca’s eyes, fingers gripping the stem of her glass.

“I'm gonna swing from the chandelier From the chandelier I'm gonna live like tomorrow doesn't exist Like it doesn't exist I'm gonna fly like a bird through the night Feel my tears as they dry...”

Bianca’s itch to down her whole glass of wine feels a little on the nose. She takes a shaky breath and lets it out slowly.

“Keep my glass full until morning light...”

She tries to take a small, ladylike sip, but it ends up being a bigger swig than she intended. She then catches the server’s attention and gestures for another. When she looks back at the stage, Courtney’s eyes are bright.

“Oh, I'm just holding on for tonight…”

Bianca finds herself zoning out entirely, watching Courtney’s glossy red lips and just letting the music wash over her, pretending that it’s all just pretty sounds so that she doesn’t have to listen to the words.

When the server comes back to the table with the next round, Adore lifts her own cocktail with a smirk. Bianca looks down self-consciously, waiting a few moments before tucking into her drink, just as Courtney is finishing her song.

She puts down her glass to join the applause, cheering along with Courtney’s friends, loving the glowing expression on her face as she bows, thanking the crowd.

“Wow, you guys are too kind. Thanks for making me feel like my slutty shenanigans are worth something.”

“Yeah they are!” Sasha cries out.

“Take off your top!” Shea adds, waving a twenty in the air, causing Courtney to giggle and shake her head slightly.

“Fuck you guys,” she laughs. “I’m a slut, not a whore.”

“Fair enough,” Shea answers, tucking the money away.

“Alright now, moving on...um, no self respecting Australian can leave the stage without a nod to the Princess of Pop, Ms. Kylie Minogue...where’s my friend from earlier?” Courtney searches the crowd, sees an enthusiastic young man clapping excitedly. “Ah! Hello sir. Where are you from? It can’t be here, since you obviously have a sense of culture.”

“South Africa,” the young man answers, and Courtney laughs.

“Figures. See, Los Angeles, Kylie Minogue is a very famous pop icon all over the rest of the world. You just know her as the older lady who sings Locomotion.”

“Sorry, bae!” Adore calls out.

Courtney winks at her, then continues, “I’m not gonna sing Locomotion, but I hope you enjoy this one…”

As Bianca sets her empty wine glass down, she can swear that those gleaming eyes are looking directly at her.

“I just can't get you out of my head Boy, your loving is all I think about…”

Courtney is trying to look away. She really is. But something keeps pulling her eyes back towards Bianca’s. Every word out of her mouth feels like a confession, and it’s both exhilarating and terrifying.

Bianca bites her lip, stomach twisting. She breathes in slow, shallow gulps of air, throat feeling dry and a mist of sweat on her brow. She thinks it must be all the wine getting to her, making her hot and slightly dizzy.

“Boy it's more than I dare to think about Every night, every day Just to be there in your arms…”

As Courtney’s throat begins to feel sore, she realizes that she’s not properly controlling her breathing. She closes her eyes, fingertips on the mic tingling, slightly unsteady in her heels.

“I just can't get you out of my head I just can't get you out of my head I just can't get you out of my head...”

Bianca is in such a trance that she barely notices the music fading out. The crowd is on their feet, and Courtney looks slightly overwhelmed for a moment.

“Stand up!” Adore says to everyone around them. “That’s my baby up there!” She puts her fingers in her mouth and whistles.

Bianca jumps up, swaying a little from the heat and alcohol, blinking back the mistiness in her eyes that seemed to come out of nowhere.

“Thank you so much, Los Angeles!” Courtney waves, smiling from ear to ear, as Alexis joins her back on the stage, keeping the applause going, forcing her to bow again before she exits.

“Give it up once more for the incomparably beautiful Courtney Hamilton!” Alexis calls out, blowing her a kiss as she exits. “How amazing was she?”

“I’m in love!” cries a man from the front row.

“Awww…” Alexis glances up with feigned nervousness at her friends’ tables, asking in a stage whisper, “Should I tell him?”

This gets a huge laugh from Shea, Sasha, and the whole group.

“Let him dream!” Adore shouts back, and Alexis giggles, moving on to introduce the next performer.

Bianca sits through the rest of the show in a fog, buzz steadily increasing. By the time it’s over, she feels a little dizzy. Courtney prances over to their table, getting bombarded with hugs and kisses from her friends. Bianca stands back a bit, finishing her glass of wine - she’s lost count at this point but her brain feels thick and foggy.

Courtney accepts a big, warm hug from Naomi as her other friends surround her.

“Oh my god, you were so amazing,” raves Naomi, “And sexy. Jesus, look at you!”

Courtney tosses her hair, lapping up the attention.

“What, this?” she flutters her lashes as Adore and Sasha laugh.

“Don’t you dare play coy!” Sasha says.

“And that last song…” Naomi continues. “I had to stop myself from jumping on stage and fucking you right there.”

“Well, you’re only human,” Courtney laughs, slipping an arm around her waist.

“Yeah, and get in line, bitch,” Adore pipes up.

Bianca sets her glass down, a sick feeling growing in the pit of her stomach. She realizes that maybe that connection she thought they had while Courtney was singing was one-sided. It was entirely possible that everyone in the room felt that way. And once that thought takes root, it’s like a disease. She’s not special. She’s just another asshole lusting after a hot girl singing in a bar.

She’s startled out of her thoughts by a hand on her shoulder, green eyes looking at her intently.

“Hi there, remember me?” Courtney asks playfully. She’d noticed Bianca hanging back, and part of her worries that there’s a reason why she seems less outgoing than usual. Maybe she’s being oversensitive, but it’s important to her that she has an amazing time. She hopes that none of her friends said or did anything to make Bianca uncomfortable.

“Hey! Um, great job up there!” Bianca says, stepping forward to give her a hug, making sure to release her quickly. But not before accidentally inhaling into her hair, her usual scent supplemented by hairspray, curls brushing against her cheek. Bianca stumbles backwards slightly.

“So, did you really like it?” Courtney asks, her soft eyes making Bianca melt inside.

“Totally! I’m actually not sure why you’re not doing this full time, to be honest. You’re...you were incredible.”

“Thanks.” She beams at Bianca’s praise, dismissing her earlier anxiety. Maybe she was just a little tipsy. That would explain her change in demeanor, right?

“And, uh,” Bianca clears her throat, “it sounds like you’re gonna get lucky, too, if you play your cards right.”

“What?” Courtney eyes widen.

Bianca nods in Naomi’s direction, and when Courtney sees where she’s looking, her heart deflates slightly.

“Oh. Yeah. That’s my friend Naomi.”

“Another dancer?” Bianca’s tone is slightly mocking, a hint of bitterness creeping into the edges.

“No, actually. She’s a runway model. We used to have the same agents.”

“Of course,” Bianca scoffs, rolling her eyes, then recovering to say, “She’s cute. You should go for it.”

“You think so, huh?” One of Courtney’s brows arches, lips pursed in what Bianca perceives as a pout.

“Definitely.”

Courtney holds her gaze for a long moment, causing her stomach to twist again. Bianca tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, swallowing hard.

“So, um...I should probably take off...”

“You don’t want to come out with us?” Courtney’s eyes are big and bright, and all Bianca wants to do is take her face in both hands, lean close enough to feel warm breath on her face...

“Yeah,” Bianca clears her throat. “I’m a little hammered, and so I should probably get myself home to bed. Let you do your thing.”  

Pulling Bianca into another hug, Courtney sighs against her, a sound that makes Bianca’s heart flutter.

“Thank you so much for coming, B,” she murmurs.

“It was great. You were great. Fantastic. Really, um,” Bianca catches herself, pulling away slightly. “Sorry, I’m just, uh...”

She’s rewarded for her babbling with another brilliant smile, Courtney’s eyes glittering at her. She takes a deep breath.

“So...um. See you Monday?”

“Right.”

As Courtney’s fingers trail down her forearm, Bianca realizes that she has to get out now. She stammers out a goodbye and then hurries from the room, cheeks burning hot.

Courtney watches her leave, regret and frustration racing through her. An arm slips around her shoulders from behind, and she leans back, letting Sasha drop a kiss onto her head.

“She’s cool,” Sasha comments. “And funny. I mean, I get it. But, Courtney…”

“I know, okay? Shut up.” Courtney turns around, pressing her hands together. “Okay cunts, who’s buying shots?!”

***

Bianca blinks her bleary eyes open, slowly becoming aware of her phone buzzing on the nightstand. Who is god’s name would be calling her at this hour? She glances over and sees her sister’s name on the caller ID. Fuck. Someone better be dead.

Bianca reaches over and picks up the phone, croaking out a hoarse, “What the fuck, Liz?”

“Tía?” asks a small voice, and Bianca sits up straighter.

“Regina?” Bianca rubs her eyes, “Is everything okay?”

Beside her, Jared lets out a frustrated groan, face buried in a pillow.

“Hang on, sweetie…” Bianca climbs out of bed, hurrying into the living room, grabbing a sweatshirt on the way. “What’s wrong?”

“Everyone hates me!” Regina answers, a sob in her throat.

Bianca bites back the desire to list off everyone who loves and cherishes her 13-year-old niece, knowing that would only make her feel worse.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s going on, honey?”

Regina launches into a tearful confession about a dramatic incident with her friends at lunch on Friday. Apparently, she made a joke at the expense of her friend’s developmentally delayed brother (Bianca has to cringe a little; the kid’s obviously learned some decidedly un-PC humor from her) and it caused all of her friends to turn on her. The best friend won’t talk to her anymore, and the rest of them followed.

“...and then they told everyone else, and now the whole school thinks I’m evil and I just heard Hannah-Beth saying that they should ignore me in church today and she wasn’t even there! We’ve been friends since pre-school! I don’t know what to do.” Regina sniffles.

Bianca switches on the coffee maker and leans against the counter.

“I’m going to recommend something that I’m not very good at,” she begins.

“Baking her cookies?”

“No. And I make awesome cookies, how dare you. No wonder everyone thinks you’re an asshole.”

There’s a moment of silence and then Regina giggles.

“I was going to say that maybe you should apologize. But like, a real apology so that your friend can see how badly you feel for hurting her. I know you, and I know that you would never want to hurt someone’s feelings on purpose.”

“No, I was trying to make her laugh.”

“So tell her that, and that you’re sorry. And then once you guys are cool again, I bet all your other friends will find their chill.”

Regina sighs.

“You really think so?”

“I do. And I also think that you should give your mother her phone back before she realizes that it’s missing.”

“I really don’t want to go back in there. Hannah-Beth and Monica keep glaring at me.”

“Well, you know, it’s church. Being judged is part of the fun,” she says, causing Regina to giggle. “Why don’t you call me back later and let me know how it goes?”

“Okay. I love you, Tía.”

“I love you too, pumpkin.” Bianca hangs up and rubs her eyes.

***

“I cannot believe I agreed to do this on a Sunday night. I should be wearing pajamas right now,” Bianca grumbles, as Jared shoots her a resigned look.

“Promise you won’t start with him, okay? Bill’s been talking about this girl for months. He says she’s really smart.”

“Smart, and dating Willam?” Bianca scoffs incredulously. “Ooh, maybe she’ll be able to count past ten without taking off her shoes?”

“Come on, B,” Jared says, suppressing a laugh. “Just be cool, please?”

“I’m always cool.”

It’s Jared’s turn to scoff now, as he rolls his eyes.

“I’m serious.” When they approach the table, his furrowed brow melts into a grin and he slaps his friend on the back. “Biiiill!”

“Hey man!” Willam jumps up to give Jared a fierce bro hug, punching him on the arm for good measure. Bianca accepts a kiss on the cheek, rolling her eyes as Willam looks her up and down. “Smokin’ hot dress, B. You look like the classy kind of hooker tonight.”

“Well, you would know,” Bianca sasses, taking a seat and looking with pity at the slender blonde in the seat beside him. “Hi, you must Alaska. Blink twice if you’re here against your will.”

Alaska laughs.

“Oh my god, Willam, you’re right, she’s soooo funny…” she drawls.

The sound of her voice makes Bianca even surer that this is another one of Willam’s endless string of beautiful, empty-headed bimbos. She smiles condescendingly.

“So, Willam tells me you’re a costume designer. Is your life just like, the most glamorous ever?” Alaska takes a sip of her cosmo.

“Um, costume designer is kind of a generous description. I work in the wardrobe department of a TV show.”

“Still, that sounds amazing! Do you know a lot of famous people?” Alaska’s brown eyes sparkle with excitement.

Oy vey, Bianca thinks, and she clears her throat.

“A few, I guess. And what do you do?” One eyebrow goes up as Bianca guesses, “Social Media Influencer?”

“I wish! No, I’m a research physician at Cedar’s,” Alaska answers.

“Wait, seriously?” That idiot bro was dating a doctor? A sexy doctor with what looked like real tits? How the fuck had he pulled that one off?

“In your face, bitch!” Willam crows. “I told you my girl was smart AF.” He leans over and places a kiss on Alaska’s shoulder.

“Wow, that’s awesome. What...um...what are you doing with him?” Bianca gestures at Willam distastefully. Jared pinches her thigh, annoyed.

Alaska giggles, giving an adorable shrug.

“‘Cause I know how to make a woman happy,” Willam pipes up.

“By keeping your mouth shut?” Bianca asks sweetly, earning an exasperated sigh from Jared.

“Guess again.” Willam punctuates his statement with a tongue gesture that makes Bianca’s skin crawl, and causes Alaska to laugh delightedly.

“Stop it, oh my goood. You’re toooo funny.” She kisses him, and Bianca’s nose wrinkles in disgust.

Bianca leans over to Jared, hand on his arm, muttering, “Okay, so she’s obviously a masochist, right?”

But instead of laughing like she’d hoped, Jared just narrows his eyes at her.

“Shut the fuck up B, and let everyone have a good time.”

Bianca pulls back from him abruptly, like she’s been burned.

“I was just-”

“It’s not funny. Enough.” Jared glares at her, and she sits back in her chair, chagrined, knowing that she’s gone too far, and hoping that he won’t stay mad. Luckily, Willam and Alaska are still making out, oblivious.

“I’m sorry.”

Jared nods, placing a hand on her thigh while he flags down their server for drinks. Thank god for alcohol.

“So, um...how’d you guys meet?” Bianca asks, genuinely curious.

“Tinder,” Alaska answers.

“You’re on tinder?!” Bianca asks Willam, unable to keep the surprise out of her voice. She always imagined Willam finding his girls in Vegas casinos and strip clubs.

“Not anymore,” he says smugly.

“Awww…” Alaska coos, then turns back to Bianca to add, “I still have my account.”

Bianca bursts out laughing. “Attagirl!”

“Hey Bianca. I have something for you,” Willam digs in his pocket, pulling out his hand, middle finger sticking up.

“In your dreams, Belli,” Bianca replies, with a flutter of her lashes. A sharp look from Jared makes her shoulders tense slightly. “Anyway, uh…” She grabs her cocktail gratefully from the server who just appeared and raises it. “To love.”

“Cheers!” Alaska responds, clinking glasses with her.

As Bianca downs her cocktail, she sighs internally. She’s not sure why it bothers her, that this smart, beautiful, successful woman is with a douche like Willam. But, she supposes that there’s no accounting for taste.

#rpdr fanfiction #bianca del rio #courtney act #bitney #adore delano #willam belli #sasha velour #alaska thunderfuck #willaska #oc #lesbian au #slow burn #fluff #angst #undone #stephanie #veronica #tw emotional abuse #concrit welcome

[antihero-writings]

Her Missing Reflection—Tangled Fic for Tangledtober Prompt 24: Mirror—Vampire AU—(Full Fic)

Fic Title: Her Missing Reflection 

Fic Synopsis: Vampires can't see their reflections, and Rapunzel is no exception. What's it like being trapped in a tower for eighteen years, unable to know what you are, or what you look like?

Notes: To be honest, even though I thought it was cool, I wasn't very interested about writing something for the Tangled vampire AU before, especially when it came to Rapunzel, (it seemed to almost go against her character). But when i saw chamiryokuroi’s art it made me think of her in her tower as a vampire...and I found that more interesting than during Tangled: The Series. The vampire AU could add an intriguing twist to the original movie storyline, and I enjoyed writing something for it, especially because I got to use one of the Tangledtober prompts! I used prompt 24: Mirror. Please forgive any silly grammar/consistency errors! I wrote this rather quickly and didn't have a whole lot of time to edit.

P.S. This is a repost of an old fic!

Fic: 

She does not know what she is.

No one has ever told her, and the mirrors never show her.

Though they show the room, Mother, and Pascal, the mirrors refuse to show Rapunzel. As if she’s a forbidden word they cannot speak, a creed they cannot break, and showing her would betray the trust of the gods.

She begs the one in the middle of the main, circular room to tell her its secrets.

It never complies.

Well, it isn’t really a secret, is it? Not to anyone else. Just to her. Just to the one who needs to know it most. Or, at least, the one it’s about.

Maybe that means she needs to know it least of all. Maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe we aren’t supposed to see ourselves, or know what the mirrors say behind our backs.

The only other person here is Mother. The girl has often asked why the people in her books don’t, why Mother herself doesn’t, drink blood. She laughs and says that though she is her mother, and though they in the books are people too, they are not quite the same kind.

Rapunzel doesn’t quite know what that means, but Mother doesn’t explain.

She has never minded being different, she has never had any reason to. But when she asks to go outside, Mother says they will hate her out there, that they will call her monster, that the men will not have pointy teeth like hers.

So she stays.

Her voice frail, soft, and timid, her gaze on the ground, she often asks Mother what she looks like. Mother says she is strong, confident, and beautiful, that she has green eyes, and white teeth, and of course—she runs her hands through it—golden hair. She kisses her head and says she shouldn’t worry about things like appearance.

She tries not to.

Then Rapunzel grabs her paintbrushes, and tries to draw what she thinks she looks like, sometimes in her sketchbooks, sometimes on the walls. But Pascal always shakes his head sadly, or tries to smile, though they both know she still got it wrong. And the chameleon’s own interpretations are...hard to interpret.

She tries to keep her chin up, to believe that one day she will know. She should after all. One day she’ll get it right—she tells herself—one day a mirror will be kind to her.

It’s not all bad. She can have fun with her lack of a reflection; some of the many games she plays up in her tower are with her empty space; one of which is making objects—pots and pans, books and plants—and Pascal float.

She asks Mother to bring her back things like antique mirrors, and old dishes, and things that could, and should, reflect her. Mother sighs, but brings them to her anyway.

Maybe, just maybe, the girl thinks, this one will like her.

They never do.

So Mother tells her, again, not to dwell on them.

She throws them out the window.

The girl never sees the pile of shattered glass they make below; daring any intruder to come and face something that doesn’t like to see its own reflection.

Or face themselves.

Sometimes she saves one of the mirrors, and paints on the metal itself, sometimes tracing herself, creating an outline she can step into, she can see herself in. Sometimes she keeps one of her favorites in her room, just so she can see a smile in it every day.

Mother tells her she shouldn’t ask for the mirrors, that maybe they shouldn’t even keep any mirrors in the tower at all. She even tries to break the one in the main room, but when Rapunzel finds her, she shouts, and begs her to stop, and makes her promise to leave it alone.

For some reason, Rapunzel likes that one; talking to it, playing games, thinking maybe today you will show me. It’s like a stubborn friend to her.

She doesn’t want to give up hope that she will one day know herself.

Often, days go by when she doesn’t much care, when it doesn’t matter if she knows what she looks like or not. It’s not like she needs it for everyday life, or that there’s anyone else here to look pretty for. She has other things to do, other games to play, other books to read, other muses to paint.

But other days she wonders. Other days the blank space, the emptiness where I should be gnaws away at her, like moths at clothing. Days go by when she paints a smile on those empty mirrors, and leans her forehead onto the cold metal, and does anything but smile; she whispers her pleas this time, (she doesn’t ask them loudly, or optimistically), tears forming in her eyes, spilling, smudging the paint. There are days when she can’t take it anymore, when she screams, and cries, and rips into pieces the pages of her journals where she drew a girl who is beautiful, and confident, and strong, who has green eyes, and white teeth, and golden hair, and who is not her.

One day she will know. One day she will meet someone who wants her to know just how beautiful she is. Who will not tell her that appearance doesn’t matter, and that she shouldn’t care. Someone who knows how much it means to her, someone who will spend his money (stolen or earned, they can’t tell the difference) on something other than himself, and it will be so she can be painted in living color.

And on that same day she will see a lost princess painted on the wall—a girl who has green eyes, and white teeth, and golden hair—and she will wonder for a second that maybe, just maybe—

Is that me?

*****

She does not know what she is.

Quite frankly, neither does Eugene. And he’s comfortable with that. The fangs, and the thing about blood, and the whole locked-in-a-tower situation.... he tries not to think of stories, or let the word vampire comes to mind.

Because she is something else. The hair, and the bright eyes, the smile, the songs, and the…ahem…frying pan… she is not those stories. The dark legends. She is the brightest thing he has ever met.

And you’d think it’d matter that this girl he…well, he isn’t really quite sure how he feels…you really would think it would matter if she was, well…you know. But somehow it doesn’t. Or maybe it does, but somehow she is more important than that.

He doesn’t remember what he first says when she tells him that she’s never seen her reflection—(yeah, that’s not a red flag at all, Eugene). Probably something along the lines of “What? I mean everyone has a—” and she steps in front of a shop window, and he probably says, “Oh, yeah, you…you don’t have a reflection. That’s…I’m not freaking out!”

And he realizes…he wants her to know what she looks like.

He wants her to know the way her hair shimmers in the sunlight, he wants her to count her freckles—(what, no! He hasn’t done that!)—he wants her to see how her dimples tug at the corners of her mouth when she smiles, and how her pointy teeth are actually—(he won’t admit it)—kinda cute—(no, they’re not scary, like one of the thugs at the Snuggly Duckling said)—the way her eyes seem to hold all the green in the entire world, all the green she never saw, and it didn’t matter if she saw it, because her world was green because her eyes were the ones that saw it, and painted over the darkened corners. And now her eyes are in his world too.

He tries to draw her, actually—on the back of one of his own botched wanted posters. But it…doesn’t exactly work well—(when she comes and asks him what he’s working on, he crumples it up and shoves it into his pocket).

As he does so, his fingers find the coins in his pocket (he doesn’t remember where he got them from, probably a heist of some sort).

He asks the old artist in the town square how-much-for-a-painting, and can, uh, can-he-get-it-for-less, or do-you-take-apples-as-payment? He also asks if he can capture her appearance from here, perhaps while this whole dance-thing is going on in the town square, so he can keep it a secret.

He’s a picky customer, but luckily the painter is old and kind, willing to do this for the sake of a girl who doesn’t know herself. Though he mentions something about love, and Eugene brushes it off.

It’s all worth it when she sees it. When they’re out on the boat before the lanterns arrive, and she gives him a crown, and he gives her her reflection. Her face lights up, and she says his name, hugs him, and and holds it up at different angles.

But then she stops, runs her fingers along the canvas with one hand, and along her own cheek with the other.

“D-Do you like it?”

She looks up at him as if pulled from a reverie, then back down at the painting, and pushes her hair behind her ear.

“To be honest,” she laughs a little, “I’m not quite sure.”

“Something…wrong with it?”

“Oh, no! Nothing’s wrong with I just…” she pauses, looking out across the water, at the castle, and the sunset, then down at the still water that holds…nothing of her. “I’ve spent my whole life wondering, and now that I know…I don’t know what to feel.”

He wishes he knew what to say. There isn’t exactly a manual for vampire-girl-sees-herself-for-the-first-time. Not that he would read it if there was one. He was always more a fan of fairy tales than instruction manuals.

“Well…that’s good!” he blurts out.

“I-It is?”

Crap. Now it’s on him to say something inspirational. Don’t screw this up Fitzherbert.

He clears his throat. “Well…uh…not knowing what to feel...” he looks away too, as if he’ll find wise words in the sky, “it’s good because…” he looks back at her, “because,” he gets an idea, “That just means you get to decide how you feel.”

She looks at the painting again, and runs her hand through her hair.

“Well then…” there’s a second she takes to decide, “I love it!” she grins.

He beams back. “Good! Looks like my work is done here!”

In truth he didn’t know what to feel either, but he thinks he’s starting to decide too.

*****

Rapunzel carries the painting back to her tower home like it’s as breakable as a mirror itself. Like it’s made of glass and gold. She tried to hide it from Mother. When Mother sees it, anger and shock mix behind her eyes. Though she takes the flowers from her hair, and looks at the painting in disdain, she still speaks kindly.

Until Rapunzel realizes. Until she realizes that that girl she saw on the wall was her, that she is not just a pretty girl, nor is she a monster…she is a princess. And she has been lost for far too long.

And gone is Mother’s kind tone.

The first thing Mother does after chaining her, is take out her knife, and rip the painting in half. She repeats her words from before, that once sounded so motherly, that she shouldn’t bother thinking about appearance, and her smile is sly, broad and wicked. Gothel says that the artist didn’t even capture her, that she’s too pretty, the smile’s too wide, the eyes are too green, that she looks too human.

The Lost Princess could never be a vampire.

And the word physically knocks her back, but it hammers against the walls in her head too; it echoes until the sound fills the chamber.

Because she knows the stories. Mother never told her what she was, but she did find a book once, a legend or two, and wondered. And Mother neglected to say the myths were about her. Rapunzel knew now she was keeping that information until the proper moment, the moment when it would hurt. She didn’t intend to make her comfortable with what she was, to tell her she wasn’t a monster, she intended to keep it secret until the word was a blade.

And it was. The word was just one of the many weapons in her arsenal. It was the sharpest today, it and the real blade that severed her reflection, and the heart of the man she had been learning to love.

And later, that mirror Rapunzel had once protected reveals itself to be her friend after all—just not in the way she thought it would. Gothel knocks it over, it shatters, Eugene slices a piece of it through her hair, and it shows Gothel for the monster she is, and she falls into the shattered heap of its fallen brothers below.

With the princess’ tears one of blades’ affects are rewritten.

But not the other’s.

After they both regain some semblance of peace, when she tells him she’s the Lost Princess, and he replies that they should tell someone—her real parents probably—she falls to tears again and says, even now, she still can’t leave.

Eugene takes the time to tell her she is not a monster. He strings the words together, and he is eloquent in his own little way, and he pulls a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket to show he tried to draw her first. He tells her this is what I see.

He is not an artist. He has not spent eighteen years becoming friends with brushes, paints, and paper. Her own half-correct sketches look better than his.

Still, she likes his better. Not because it’s more accurate, but because the crude excuse for a girl has the brightest smile, with adorable fangs, scribbled hair, that’s probably less exaggerated as it seems, and eyes that he obviously tried to draw multiple times, trying to make them just right. This is his heart. It is her reflection in his eyes.

There will come a time where there will be many paintings of her, when her parents, (her real ones), will want to fill the castle with the words you’re beautiful.

But it is Eugene’s picture she keeps in her room. She puts it on the vanity that still refuses to show her—the mirrors here are unkind as ever. But this is all she needs.

It is not what all those stuck-up artists think of her, nor is it some perfect recreation of reality. It is what he thinks of her. It is her reflection; he is the mirror who finally spoke back.

Because she learns when people look in the mirror, they don’t see themselves as they are. Reflections live, and change, and when people look into them, they see their mistakes, and their flaws, they overlook certain things, and see other things about them accented.

So this is truer as a mirror than the most perfect picture. This is all she needs to know.

Because when she sees it, she knows what she is.

#rapunzel #tangledtober #vapunzel #vampunzel #tangled #tts #tangledtober 2018 #vampire au #eugene fitzherbert #mother gothel #tangled 2010 #writing #fic #fanfic #antihero writings

[kinohui]

99 things i love about kino

yes this is exactly what it looks like. let’s go

1. this goes without saying but he is incredibly talented

2. he’s probably one of the best dancers i’ve seen in kpop especially at his age

3. he even choreographed a bunch of their songs including part of their debut song gorilla and this beautiful choreography to hui’s song you are

4. his singing ???? he literally has the voice of an angel it’s so smooth and nice it could lull me to sleep every single night

5. and he self produces too!!!!!

6. he wrote and produced some of my favourite pentagon songs like violet and off-road

7. as well as some amazing solo songs he released on his soundcloud (you should seriously check out his soundcloud)

8. the music video for lonely

9. he has such a bright personality and will make everyone’s day a little better

10. for real he is such a sunshine and he’s so loving with his members 

11. and his laugh !!!!!!!!!! you will always find him laughing at everything even when no one else is and it’s so fcking cute

12. like when he full on failed the try not to react challenge

13. and the way he covers his mouth and grabs onto everyone around him when he laughs really hard ;-;

14. basically if scientists ever find a cure for cancer they’ll find it in hyunggu’s laugh

15. he is really kind

16. he’s also really good at english (here’s a little compilation for u)

17. and always tries to speak as much english as he can in english broadcasts like asc or soompi and it’s just adorable

18. like when he said he shares a room with shinwon and ‘’i’ve never seen him clean his clothes himself’’

19. he’s super ticklish !!! and shinwon has called him a pervert because of it lmao (x, x, x)

20. he can play the piano 

21. and the guitar !!

22. really he’s such a multitalent there’s like nothing he can’t do and i really don’t know where he finds the time to do all of those things

23. he is always so kind with his fans and his members and staff

24. this kid is super smart:

25. first of all he was admitted into an arts high school as the no. 1 (NO. 1 !!!!!) candidate

26. was also a student commitee member lmao

27. attended hanlim multi arts school together with yugyeom from got7 and their friendship is super cute (x)

28. after high school he was accepted into sejong university as a practical dance major without even having to take the entrance exam bruh

29. also attended a lot of dance workshops

30. really his passion for dance is admirable

31. he’s also really street smart. like

32. he will look at a situation and try to understand it and is able to solve problems super quick

33. he’ll come up with unique approaches to a problem and solutions that no one else in his group thought of

34. i’m not joking when i say this boy probably has an IQ of 150 like I GENUINELY BELIEVE THAT

35. he’s a super logical thinker

36. which also makes him super good at games (x, x)

37. like when they played the bunny bunny game and kino outsmarted everyone and almost made yanan cry lmao

38. and he will take those games serious and try to do his absolute best

39. but also doesn’t take it TOO seriously

40. because if things don’t go his way or he loses he is never mad

41. for real this boy is blessed with so much patience

42. he puts up with his member’s teasing with a smile

43. and they tease him A LOT

44. like never before have i seen this boy snap at anyone

45. also super soft and emotional bub

46. loves his mom a lot

47. like a lot

48. cried when the members showed him a video message from her

49. also cried when they asked him to give a message to her in a broadcast before she went on a business trip

50. he can impersonate spongebob?

51. mr. krabs too lmao

52. always puts his all into everything that he does

53. like for real he is COMPLETELY in the zone, no matter what he’s doing, dancing, singing, playing games ??

54. you can see how his facial expression changes when he starts dancing and it always matches the song perfectly

55. he can convey so much emotion through his dancing

56. superb taste in fashion just saying

57. also has a really nice and special taste in music imo

58. like he listens to a lot of underground artists on soundcloud

59. and i love that he reposts so much stuff on there so you can listen to all the music he likes and i think that can be such an intimate thing to share

60. and you can tell how the music he listens to influences his own music

61. also the vlives where he tries to explain their choreographies and teach them to you

62. or the ones where he sits in his studio and plays you some of his songs

63. this video where he asked jinho to sing for him for inspiration and he sat there listening to his voice with his eyes closed and a smile on his face, really taking in the song

64. + his super cute smile at the end ;-;

65. he’s super thankful for their fans and always makes sure to say that

66. this shine fancam

67. seriously does he never run out of energy ???? just look at him

68. king of duality

69. like on one hand he’s super cute and innocent but. don’t be deceived

70. his sexy side isn’t for the faint hearted

71. exhibt A

72. exhibit B (yeah he really went and wrote that song)

73. i swear this boy is lowkey a freak

74. vaseline ????

75. this part in one of his vlives that actually had me sobbing

76. he just has such a positive outlook on life and it makes me really happy

77. like he always manages to focus on all the positive things in life and doesn’t let the negative things weigh him down and i find that really admirable

78. i actually really look up to him and his passion for life

79. he’s also a great cook, get you a man

80. ‘’i think i can get married’’

81. the meaning behind his stage name --> kinnovation

82. the time he had bright pink/red hair???? holy shit

83. that part in the shine mv where he harmonizes with jinho and they’re being super cute

84. speaking of shine, the cute goggles he wears uwu

85. when he ate a churro with chopsticks lmao this will never not be the cutest thing ever to me

86. also tried to feed said churro to the fans through the camera with the chopsticks

87. just a big lovable dork

88. if you wanna cleanse your soul of all evil watch his ‘’with you’’ cover with jinho

89. doesn’t mind skinship at all. will gladly cuddle all of his members

90. does girl groups dances better than the actual girl groups tbh

91. KINO WITH A BUNCH OF LITTLE KIDS

92. king of twerking

93. like he really twerked at hyuna’s birthday party

94. his favourite sentence is ‘’i love you’’ lmao stab me in the heart please. :)

95. takes the cutest selfies

96. ‘’im sensitive’’

97. when hongseok said he wants to go swimming with the members and kino was like ‘’all naked together?’’ this boy istg

98. destroyed everyone in limbo

99. in conclusion this sunshine is doing the absolute most and he deserves so so much love so please give it to him !!

#oof #universe net #pentagon #kino #kang hyunggu #hyunggu #yes i really went and wrote this #please support pentagon lmao #the day i decided to do this i literally wrote down 80 reasons in 3 hours #and then it took me like 2 weeks to finish it akjfd #but yeah anyways. i love kino goodnight #p:mine #oh also i tried adding links to most things but i didnt do everything so if theres anything u want a link to lmk !!!!

[voidmallen-blog]

void ♡ S.S.

♡ reposted from my wattpad

♡ character: stiles stilinski

♡ word count: 1.7k+

♡ warnings: idk creepy behavior

        Her lashes fluttered softly as drowsiness began to take over her mind.

        She carefully folded over the page of her novel and set it aside, stretching out her limbs as she stood up from the couch.

        She was, once again, home alone. Her father's long shifts at the police station ensured that.

        The girl allowed her mind to stray chastely to the sheriff's son, her heartbeat stuttering as she thought of his joyful, whisky eyes and sardonic demeanor.

        She had had a crush on the boy for as long as she could remember, ever since she and her father had moved to Beacon Hills from up north.

        The moment she had first laid eyes upon him was still heavily ingrained into her mind.

        He had been chasing after who she now knew to be Scott McCall, shouting and waving his arms around as he ranted about "lizard men", sporting a buzz cut and a flannel shirt. After a few moments of this, he had promptly slipped and fallen onto the ground, successfully knocking over two people in the process.

        It was at this moment that she had decided she was going to like it at her new school.

        Now, well in to their junior year, the boy had grown his hair out and built some muscle and had been gaining more and more attention from his peers.

        Though she liked him either way, his new-found confidence and status bothered the most selfish part of her sentient thoughts.

        They had never been close, but at least before his transformation she stood a chance with him. Now, it seemed like he never even spared so much as a glance in her direction.

        This was neither here nor there, for she had long since accepted that she would perpetually be single and alone, but it didn't hurt to indulge in her musings and allow her thoughts to stray to her long-time crush every now and then.

        Her attempts to move toward her bedroom were halted by a soft rapping on her front door.

        She quirked an eyebrow, not having been expecting visitors, but she made her way to the door nevertheless.

        When she swung open the wooden barricade, she was significantly phased by the presence of one Stiles Stilinski on her front porch.

        "Stiles?"

        She spoke quietly, taking in the tall form of the sheriff's son. His skin was paler than usual, there were dark splotches encircling the skin underneath his eyes, and his hair was uncharacteristically messy. The most disconcerting detail about him was the lack of any sort light behind his amber eyes, the irises instead plagued with a sense of darkness that tainted his normally bright expression.

        "Hello, dear," his voice was gravelly and daunting as he spoke, his pink lips pulled taught into an unnerving smirk.

        The nogitsune allowed his eyes to leisurely rake over the girl's smaller form, taking in the sight of the person who had been the star of his inhabitant's thoughts from the beginning of his possession.

        The Stilinski boy was borderline obsessed with the clueless girl that stood before him.

        He remembered the first time he had seen her.

        He had been stumbling after an overly-stressed Scott, trying to not-so-subtly inform his best friend of an update in the kanima debacle.

        When he first saw her, watching on with widened doe-eyes and parted lips, his concentration had been so inhibited that he promptly tripped over himself, crashing into two freshmen on his way down.

        She had looked at him in equal parts concern and amusement, biting her plush lip to keep from laughing aloud at his predicament.

        From then on, he had seen her in his classes excelling tremendously, bobbing her head along to the music blaring through her headphones when she thought no one was watching, and spending her lunch periods sitting under a large oak tree in the court yard while she sketched works of art.

        Soon enough, he had fallen in love with her mind as well as her looks.

        If only he could work up the courage to speak more than two words to her.

        Unfortunately, the fact that she took president in his mind at most times was one that the nogitsune used to his advantage.

        Truth be told, the trickster spirit himself had become quite infatuated with the girl constantly dancing through his thoughts.

        He had decided he had to come in contact with the female, and if it so happened to fill Stiles with crushing devastation and dread, that was simply an added bonus.

        Stiles had been so, so careful to keep her protected from the supernatural world. He had alienated himself and his friends from her and insisted that his more physically inclined friends knew to keep her out of harm's way.

        He had even gone as far as to sprinkle wolfsbane around the borders of her house, not that he ever told anyone about that.

        But wolfsbane couldn't stop ancient trickster spirits.

        "What-, uh," she stammered, a blush painting itself across her cheeks, "what are you doing here?"

        "I just really wanted to see you," the boy spoke as though it were the most natural thing in the world, "may I come in?"

        "Oh," she blinked, quickly stepping aside and holding open the door, "of course. Make yourself at home."

        He needed no further prompting to step across the threshold and much closer to her than she expected.

        "Let's sit down," he gently placed a hand on the small of her back, "shall we?"

        The girl gulped nervously, a feeling which flooded the nogitsune with pleasure, and nodded her head.

        The two sat down on the couch she had been occupying before his arrival, the boy sitting uncomfortably close.

        "You're a fan of Poe?" the nogitsune quirked a brow, nodding to the book detailing some of Poe's greatest works that was resting on the coffee table in front of them.

        "Oh, yeah," she smiled softly, "I really admire the way that he isn't afraid to pinpoint and explore the more grotesque parts of passion. Most people like to gloss over the darkest parts of their desires, and instead glorify the lighter, more romantic sides of them, you know?"

        "Well, aren't you just magnificent?" he murmured, realizing that this girl might just understand the twisted, gray webs of his mind, and that she might even allow him to twist her into his trap, "Although, I don't fully agree."

        "Oh?" she scanned his face for any sign of brightness, of humanity.

        She found none.

        "I don't think the lighter sides are the only ones that are romantic," he spoke darkly, and her heart began to race at the deep intensity in his gaze, "I think that the most grotesque, misunderstood parts of the sentient being are not only beautiful, but that they help us to form the deepest, strongest connections."

        The girl considered his words for a fairly long time.

        "Do you want some tea?" she spoke finally.

        The nogitsune chuckled amusedly at her change of pace, but nodded his consent.

        With that, she rose from the couch and headed to the kitchen, taking a moment to grip the edge of the counter and breathe deeply.

        Her shaking hands fumbled through the cabinet of herbs she kept for teas, being an avid addict herself.

        As she began creating her concoction, the nogitsune sat quietly in the living room.

        He closed his eyes, relishing in the feeling of Stiles begging and pleading with him to not touch her.

        It was almost laughable, the amount of desperation resounding throughout the little consciousness Stiles had. He was bargaining everything; he would do anything if the trickster would just leave her alone.

        This just made his impending success with her all the more satisfying.

        Soon enough, the girl returned to his gaze, handing over the steaming mug with a tentative smile.

        "This is delicious," he complimented genuinely after taking a sip.

        "My own recipe," she acknowledged.

        The nogitsune gently placed the mug in front of him, returning his focus to the newest object in his game.

        "You know," he spoke, his voice soft and steady as he traced a delicate finger across the soft skin of her forearm, "I've been thinking about you quite a bit."

        "Is that so?" she responded, her tone significantly weaker as her voice trembled along with her shivering skin.

        He smirked, surveying her demeanor with impressed eyes. This girl was slowly becoming the queen of his chess game.

        "Mm," the spirit agreed, his warm breath fanning over her neck as he leaned ever closer, "in fact, you've been running through my mind all day."

        She didn't respond, her eyes widening as he dipped his head down.

        Their lips were mere centimeter apart when the male's eyes fluttered shut, a surprised expression momentarily taking over his face before he slumped down on the couch, unconscious.

        She pursed her lips at the passed out form in front of her, tilting her head to the side as she looked him over.

        The girl was brought out of her focus by another knock on her front door, this one much more urgent.

        With a sigh, she stood from next to the unconscious boy and made her way to the door, opening it to reveal the very concerned faces of Scott McCall, Lydia Martin, and Isaac Lahey.

        The pack had been attempting to track the nogitsune, and Scott, knowing the importance of the girl in front of him to his best friend, had brought them here.

        "Okay," the alpha held his hands out in front of him, "this is going to sound crazy, but-,"

        "He's on the couch," she interrupted with a casual expression, jabbing her thumb behind her in the direction of the sedated monster.

        The three took in Stiles' slumped over form with shocked expressions, hurriedly making their way inside.

        "How did you know?" Scott blinked in disbelief.

        "Does it matter?" she shrugged nonchalantly, "I gave him a pretty powerful sedative. It should hold him for a while, but you guys should get him restrained as soon as possible. Just get that son of a bitch out of Stiles."

        "I knew you were smart," Lydia smirked in triumph, admiring the girl she had yearned to befriend, but couldn't under the strict orders of Stiles.

        The girl spotted Isaac eyeing the tea on the coffee table, and smiled knowingly.

        "I wouldn't drink that if I were you."

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi imagine #void stiles #void stiles imagine #nogitsune #teen wolf #teen wolf imagine

[love-in-the-time]

The Dirty Tour of the Universe Part 4: The Libertine Queen REPOST FOR MARVELOUS ART

Title: The Libertine Queen Author: love-in-the-time Rating: M Summary: Part 4 of the Dirty Tour of the Universe series. The Doctor takes Donna to Amara, a planet ruled by a matriarchal society and a queen who prizes self-indulgence.

From the AMAZING @annasassi once again!!!! A stunning illustration of one of my personal favorite fics.

“See that planet there? The white one?” The Doctor points out the enormous observatory skylight in the TARDIS library.

“Yeah.” Donna follows his finger across the multitude of stars to a planet that shone like a pearl.

“That’s Amara, the primary of a binary planetary system that revolves around a white star. Its sister planet is called Karrissa, and both are named for goddesses of the local faith.” He moves his finger to the right and down, and in the distance there is a planet as red as Mars.

“Flora? Fauna? If there’s a local faith there’s at least one sentient species,” Donna says, and the Doctor laughs.

“Are you trying to impress me, Donna Noble?” he asks, grinning knowingly.

“Not hardly,” Donna says, giving him a look from under her lashes. “I just think it’s appropriate to ask what I’m getting myself into.”

“I see.” The Doctor points to Amara again. “Well, that one’s ruled by a queen named Heli, and it’s her birthday week. And she’s basically a female Charles II.”

“And we’re going,” Donna says, catching his drift. “Let’s go, Spaceman.”

They circle around the TARDIS console, working in tandem, the Doctor expounding on the wonders of Amara, a planet where it rained only at night and only once a week. “You never saw such flowers,” he says.

They land with a thump and the Doctor goes to the door. “Lead the way,” he says to Donna, who opens the door onto a vast courtyard made of sandstone. There are high, high walls on every side and the sky arches over, bluer than blue above their heads. The air is alive with the sound of birds and bugs, and the floor below them is laid in intricate, geometric patterns.

There is the sound of footsteps and two enormous men dressed in light metal armor come striding up. They are seven feet tall at least, but their faces are beaming happily.

“Doctor!” one of them greets, and, upon seeing Donna, executes a quick obeisance of respect. The Doctor grins a little at that and Donna is puzzled. “Welcome again to Amara!”

“Her High Majesty will be most pleased to welcome you back,” says the other guard. He also makes a gesture of respect to Donna, who nods hesitantly back to both the guards. “Follow us.”

The two men lead the Doctor and Donna down the length of the courtyard to the splendid bronze gates, at whose base grows a mosaic of colorful flowers, set with precious stones and bright bricks, a path to the palace. “So that all who enter Amara may walk among flowers,” the Doctor recites to Donna. She smiles and they enter into an arched atrium with a glass dome ceiling and a bustle of similarly tall men and women. The men are dressed in elegant tunics and trousers, and the women are uniformly bare-breasted, in flowing skirts of myriad bright colors and patterns.

At the end of the atrium is a short hallway that leads upwards and they emerge onto a massive throne room, with the queen lounging on an enormous throne at the far end. The guards lead the Doctor and Donna up the plush patterned carpet to the Libertine Queen, Heli of Amara.

Heli is queenly and majestic, at least a thousand pounds and easily seven and a half feet tall. Beside her lounges a naked male concubine, drinking from a huge golden goblet. Donna does her best to not look at his really large penis.

The Doctor is unfazed.

“Doctor!” Heli says delightedly. “I welcome you back to the Women’s House of Amara. I see you have remembered my birth week, as usual.”

The Doctor grins. “I have.”

“And what have you brought me this year?” Heli asks.

The Doctor rummages in his inside coat pocket, exploring the depths inside, and draws out a big blue stone. “A sapphire from the cliffs of Juno’s Tears in the Medusa Cascade. Most rare, Your Grace.”

“Ah!” Heli smiles and a servant girl accepts the stone. “And have you brought me a religious lesson too?” she inquires, looking at Donna. She makes a small gesture of respect and Donna is even more puzzled.

“Not a religious,” the Doctor answers. “Nor a lesson. She is Donna Noble and she flies the TARDIS with me."

"Happy birth… week, Your Majesty,” Donna says. “My congratulations.”

“You must be quite clever to fly a machine like the TARDIS,” Heli says. “Are you a nun?”

Donna looks even more confused. “No, Your Majesty.” She looks to the Doctor. “Does everyone think I’m a nun?”

“Only nuns cover their breasts on Amara,” comes a voice from behind the throne.

Heli smiles. “Allow me to present to you my daughters.”

Three girls, all of a height (of at least six and a half feet), all of different coloring, emerge from behind and beside the huge golden bed-throne. “My eldest daughter, Melya,” Heli says. The middle girl, with golden skin and a green-and-red skirt, absolutely loaded with gold bangles and anklets, makes a bow. Her hair is a profusion of blonde spirals and her eyes are pale green. “Melya is the foremost exponent of theatre, dance and music on Amara and the daughter of the King of Karissa. She will marry his eldest son in the harvest season.”

Next Heli introduces her middle daughter, a dark-skinned girl with rings through her ears and a diamond in her nose, dressed in all white. “Bettnett, the daughter of the High Priest of Amara, my successor in the temple.” Bettnett has sacred symbols tattooed on her skin and very short hair. “She will take my place as the goddess idol in the yearly harvest celebrations and perform her sister’s marriage.”

The last daughter is the tallest, a bright girl with long brown hair and grey eyes. Her skin is the color of sand, and she is wearing a gold torque shaped like a hammer between her breasts. Her skirt is slit to the hip and made of rich purple fabric. “My youngest daughter Ari, daughter of the half-man king of Mori. She is the foremost legal mind on Amara. She sits for me at the high council and she will inherit my throne.”

The Doctor and Donna bow to the girls in return and Ari says, “So glad you aren’t a nun, nuns are such dull company.” She surveys Donna. “All the same, you’re hardly dressed for a party and it’s the first night of Mother’s birth week celebrations, so you’d better come with us.”

Donna looks to the Doctor. He shrugs and smiles. “It’s perfectly safe.”

“Come,” says Melya. “We have dresses.”

So Donna lets herself be borne away by the three princesses, all talking between themselves. They are joined by a retinue of female servants as they go, and they usher Donna into a huge set of apartments. The servant girls stand against the wall, ready for orders.

“She’s shorter than us, and smaller,” Bettnett is saying. “We’ll have to go find some of our adolescent gowns.”

“You cover your body so modestly!” Melya says, inspecting Donna critically. “Surely you don’t want anything on you in this heat?”

Donna looks from face to face. “Er… I won’t go naked.”

“No, no,” Ari says, gesturing to the servant girls. “We have dresses.”

And that is absolutely true. A few minutes later three girls return with their arms laden with a riot of colorful fabrics. Donna steps back in awe as they display skirt after skirt, until Ari says, “That one.”

She plucks a scarlet skirt from the mix, the waist embroidered with gold threads in a kind of starburst pattern. They divest Donna of her clothing until she protests at her near-nakedness.

“I have to wear a top,” she says, crossing her arms over her breasts. “There’ll be hundreds of people there.”

“All the more reason to show them off!” Melya insists, pulling her arms away gently. “They’re so round!”

Donna doesn’t answer. The three sisters exchange looks and Ari goes back into the closet. “Here,” she says a moment later, withdrawing the sheerest, most insubstantial piece of material Donna has ever seen, woven in white.

“This is useless!” she protests. “The whole point—“

“The whole point, Donna, is that no one dresses like that here,” Melya says impatiently. “And we’re princesses. We definitely don’t dress like nuns. It’s our job to be alluring. We have to be ahead of the fashions, we set them. So it’s this or nothing.”

Donna looks down at the wisp of cloth. She sighs. “Never mind.” She hands it back to Ari.

Melya plants her hands on her hips. “Donna, I don’t know or care who taught you to be so embarrassed of being female but I am issuing you a royal directive this instant: stop it. You’re being very tedious and I dislike that in a woman.” Melya adjusts her own necklace to better display her breasts between the gold strands. Donna nods and looks away, and Melya smiles to show she isn’t angry. “Come, you’re on Amara now. We are women, we are beautiful, and we are celebrating.”

“Now,” Bettnett says as the servant girls go to work. “How do you know someone as revered as the Doctor?”

Donna has long since given up her reticence, and she tells the princesses the story of her Christmas miracle.

“He took you away from your wedding?” Ari asks, bright with interest. “How romantic!”

“It wasn’t. It was terrifying,” Donna starts, but they aren’t listening.

“But he meant you no harm, he was rescuing you!” Melya says. “And all in your bridal gown, how very romantic!” The three princesses swoon in imaginary emotions. “Did he kiss you?”

“No,” Donna says, shaking her head. “I was too hurt and scared for that.”

“But he kissed you later,” Ari says. “I can tell you’re having sex with him.”

Donna blushes scarlet and says nothing.

“Ooh!” Betnett grins and goes back to adjusting the sash at Donna’s waist. “The lady is reticent!”

“Come on,” Melya presses. “You’re the wife of a very important man—“

“I’m not his wife,” Donna interjects.

“All right,” Melya says skeptically. “In any case, you’re with a very important man, and you surely aren’t ashamed of it, are you?” Off Donna’s look, she continues, “It’s natural, it’s sex! That’s what we exist to do, when you get right down to it.”

“Our mother says the Doctor’s a madman,” Ari says.

Donna laughs a little. “He’s a little mad, maybe.”

“How does he fuck?” Melya asks. “Is he good?”

“I don’t—“ Donna starts, and the princesses all object at once.

“Your shame is irrelevant here. Our mother could order you and the Doctor to make love before all the court and you would have to obey,” Melya says dismissively. “We’re clothing you, we’re hosting you, we deserve to know!”

Donna is quiet for a long moment and the three sisters start to look impatient. “All right, all right,” Donna says finally. “I s’pose if you’ve got me with my tits out you won’t stop until you can watch us yourselves.”

They look expectant. Donna takes a deep breath. “He’s got experience, I’m sure,” Ari says.

“And?” This is from Melya.

“He’s really good.”

“That’s it?” Ari starts to laugh. “Just really good? Do you come?”

“Yes.”

“A lot?”

“Yes.”

“Does he?”

“Yes.”

“One word answers are boring,” Bettnet says. “Does he lick you out?”

“Yes. And I come. A lot.” Donna shifts. “Is there really no top to this dress?”

“No,” Betnett repeats.

“That dress is priceless,” Melya says. “You can’t find silk that color anywhere else but in this palace. So enjoy it. You look like a princess. Go look.“

The servant girls part and Donna is presented with an enormous mirror.

Donna looks at herself in the mirror and stops. The first thing she notices is that she’s topless and that hasn’t changed. “This is me?” she asks, trying to take in her entire reflection at once and failing. Slung low around her hips and swathed around her waist by a transparent silk wrap, a skirt of semi-sheer silk cascades to the floor, belted with rows of gold ornaments. It’s a royal red woven with expensive gold thread in designs around the hips. They have loaded her with gold jewelry, more than she would have liked, and the girls were indignant she’d refused the enormous gold collar necklace they’d wanted to put on her. What they’d substituted was equally as ostentatious, a row of huge pearls with cascades of smaller pearl strands that fall between her breasts. She’d allowed them six bangles on each wrist until they’d talked her into twelve. She has two anklets on each foot. Everything is purest gold. There are no flaws anywhere in the construction of her jewelry or her garment.

The servants had lined Donna’s eyes with something black and opaque and dusted her eyelids with coppery shadow, and whatever they’d used on her lashes made them long and lush and dark. Donna’s lips are plump and slick with gloss, brushed on with a silky brush by a servant girl who worked with an expert efficiency on all four women. Donna’s hair is curled and half-tied-up, falling down her back.

The princesses pronounce themselves satisfied and sweep Donna into the center of their entourage. They sweep her back to the throne room for inspection. Donna stands nervously, hyper-aware of her bare skin and attempting to ignore her self-consciousness. The Doctor is nowhere in sight, and in her absence long tables have been set up, cushions strewn everywhere, and food is piled high. Musicians are walking around.

"Certainly not a nun!” Heli says as the group approaches. “Well done, daughters!”

Donna makes another bow, unsure if she should curtsey. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Your Doctor is sitting by the dais,” Heli says. “You may go."

Donna turns to scan the room for the Doctor, who she finally spots standing by a low table on a raised platform to the right of the throne. He is looking at her and she waves tentatively. She starts towards him.

“I look like a parade float,” she says as she approaches, but he is staring at her openly.

“No, you don’t,” he says in awe. “I have… you look…” He’s openmouthed but trying to hide it.

“They wouldn’t give me a top,” Donna says.

“No,” he says, admiring her toplessness. “You look stunning. They did an excellent job.” He indicates the plush cushions at their feet. “Let’s sit. I’m sure there’s some kind of concert or something about to start.”

Servants bring them plates and cups of the proper size and leave two gallon-sized jugs of the Queen’s Nectar wine with them. It isn’t a concert but a comedy that starts next, a wild story of a soldier who got sold as a slave and fucked his way to freedom across a vast distance to come home and strike gold on his first day of work, and who died a rich old man with six wives who all wore gold necklaces and earrings. The wives are played by slave girls, mostly-naked and swathed in sheer silks.

Donna and the Doctor laugh uproariously along with the crowds, and start in on their wine. There are musicians next, and then jugglers and dancers and even magicians, while endless amounts of food and drink are served.

In the middle of Donna’s third plate of food, Bettnett approaches them and pulls Donna onto the floor, pressing her among the crowd of ladies lining up, and says, “Watch and learn and dance with us.” Then she’s gone, Donna looking after her in puzzlement. The Doctor only grins at her from his seat and shrugs.

A moment later the musicians strike up a beat that reminds Donna of calypso music, and to her delight Melya is playing a guitar-like instrument at the front of the group. The women on the dance floor start to move, and Bettnett gestures for Donna to follow. For a few moments Donna is lost, attempting to do what the other girls are doing, and then suddenly it clicks and she swings round into step with the circle of women. Donna Noble, faithful bedroom-mirror-and-iPod dancer, finds that her years of solitary practice are serving her well. Bettnett and Ari, side-by-side in the circle, give her approving nods. The wine helps, and Donna is smiling.

After two songs, though, she huffs to a stop and pulls away from the princesses for a glass of wine. The Doctor offers it to her with a million-watt smile and she collapses on the heaped cushions beside him. He offers her a bowl of berries. Donna shakes her head and scoots closer to him. “Don’t you dance?” she inquires.

“Not unless provoked,” he jokes, eating a berry. “You did a good job, though.”

Donna toasts him. “Cheers, Spaceman.” She looks around the enormous room. “What time does this get done, then?”

“Oh, the party doesn’t actually end,” the Doctor says. “We just leave and come back as we like. Heli herself leaves and comes back.”

Donna nods approvingly. “I like it.” She regards her friend. “So what d'you think, d'you like it?”

“You want to know my opinion?” the Doctor asks, leaning over to speak in her ear. “You’ve got the best tits in the house.”

Donna laughs. “That’s only because they’re your size and not enormous.”

The Doctor shrugs. “Or because yours look like they taste good.”

“Shut up,” Donna says, beaming. “Drink more wine, maybe they’ll turn into pork pies.”

“Oh, no, they’re fine as they are,” the Doctor says, refilling their glasses. “I much prefer tits.”

Donna leans back against her plush cushions and smiles at him, a million watts. She looks very content and very comfortable. “How exactly does one provoke a Time Lord to dance?” she asks.

“I’ll tell you one how,” he says. He signals a passing server who is holding a tray, and says, “Would you bring us Karissian shots?”

The server nods and returns with a tall, slender bottle filled to the brim with a pale green liquid. “It looks like absinthe,” Donna says.

“It’s better,” the Doctor tells her. “All right!” He sets up two glasses and says, “This is how you get a Time Lord to dance. Shot for shot.”

Donna sits up and takes a glass. “Say the word.”

They tap the glasses as the doctor counts, “Three, two, one, go.”

Donna throws back the shot and winces. “Oh, fuck, that's vile.”

The Doctor laughs. “Here, have some water. Water activates it.”

“Activates it?” Donna asks. She accepts the water and drinks it to rinse her mouth. Then euphoria spreads through her veins, and she feels warmth start at her head and ooze down to her toes. She makes a noise of delight and flops back on the cushions.

“Activates it,” the Doctor says, draining his own glass of water. Then he seems to light up.

“Again,” Donna says. The Doctor sets up two more shots.

“Three, two, one, go!” he says, and they chase their shots with water a second time.

“Ah, fuck, it’s so disgusting but it’s so good,” Donna says, her eyes screwed shut. She laughs and blows air out between her lips.

“Let’s dance,” the Doctor says, unfolding to his feet and pulling her up with him. Donna lets him lead her onto the floor and within moments they are knotted up like two teenagers.

“The nuns at my school would tell us to leave room for the Holy Ghost,” Donna jokes.

“Fuck that,” the Doctor answers, and yanks her closer. They last only a few minutes before hands start to wander, and the Doctor leans down to talk in her ear so she can hear him over the music. “Come with me.”

They make their way off the floor among a dense crowd of dancers who are all intoxicated and euphoric. Heli herself is watching her male concubine as he dances naked for her.

Outside the throne room there are more people in the halls and corridors, some of the dancing, some of them eating and drinking and talking and laughing, and others of them having sex in plain view.

The Doctor pulls Donna off the hallway into an alcove with a window seat and a tall stained-glass pane.

“I picked it because it’s the right height,” he says, grinning. “Sit.”

Donna perches herself on the sill and pulls her skirt up her thighs. The Doctor hooks his hands under her knees and pulls her hips close. He undoes his button and zip and they do it quick and hard and laughing right in the little alcove. The music from the party continues in the background but all the Doctor can hear is Donna’s sighs, her giggles, her little words. It doesn’t take but five minutes, and they both finish breathless and shuddery and smiling.

Donna feels loose like water, lit up and happy, her smile stretching from ear to ear. The Doctor, beaming just like her, says, “What d'you fancy? More party?”

Donna shakes her head. “I’m going to go outside and have a look.” She points out the window. “There are three moons. And at least a trillion stars.” And she takes off down the hallway and out into the courtyard. The Doctor follows, and Donna stands with her arms outspread, her head tilted to the sky.

“Glorious,” she says to the Doctor, who agrees wholeheartedly, but not about the stars. Donna stands very still for a long moment. Then she breathes deeply in and out, and says, “This is happiness, eh? A sky full of stars.”

Her eloquence makes him give her that soft, tender smile he does that makes her blush. “I think so,” he says.

Donna yawns suddenly, and says, “Oh, I must be coming down from that liquor.” She rolls her shoulders. “Have they got beds here or are we expected to sleep anywhere?”

“There are thousands of rooms.” The Doctor hails a servant girl and asks her name and if she will lead them to a room in which they can sleep. The girl, dressed in a bright yellow skirt to her knees, directs them to a giant door in a hallway across the courtyard.

The chamber is huge, painted with vivid patterns, with a giant circular impression in its center that turns out to be the bed, lined with plush cushions and strewn with silky coverlets. Two servants bring them a gallon-sized jug of the sweet fruit wine from the feast, and put a platter of savory foods and breads on a tray at the lip of the bed. They bow out of the room and the Doctor looks at Donna. They are both deliciously drunk, smiling from ear to ear. “I’m so tired,” Donna says, and drops into the bed, burrowing among the pillows and blankets. She emerges with her hair in disarray, her eyes low and hooded. “Come on, then,” she says. “It’s like laying on a cloud.”

He sits down on the edge and slides in, landing on top of the pillows. “Oh, it is good,” he says, stretching out. He rolls over onto his stomach and regards his companion. “You look so hot.”

Donna pulls him forward by his shirt and kisses him, something she does only in private. “Thank you,” she says.

“Anything for you,” the Doctor says, and he means it. “Wanna stay the week?”

“Yes,” Donna says, her face muffled by pillows. “But I’m going to sleep now.”

“You do that.” The Doctor stretches out beside her. “I may join you if the fancy takes me. Sweet dreams.”

“Sweet dreams,” comes Donna’s answer from among the pillows, and she is asleep almost instantly, all her finery notwithstanding. He grins and lets his own eyes close, if not for sleep then at least for the peace he finds with Donna beside him, anywhere in the universe.

#tatennant #doctor x donna #annasassi #look at this #it's so amazing

[artificialqueens]

Undone, Chapter 3 (Bitney) - Stephanie/Veronica

A/N: Welcome to Chapter 3 of UNDONE, our Bitney lesbian AU. Here’s a link the previous chapters. (This is a repost from AO3/RGF - once we’re caught up, new chapters will go up.)

Summary: Bianca and Courtney continue to get to know each other. And Courtney makes a questionable choice in the hookup department.

TW: This story deals with themes of emotional abuse, and since that can be subtle, we’re going to keep a general TW on all of the chapters, even when it seems like it doesn’t apply.

***

Courtney climbs into the wardrobe trailer on Monday morning looking a little ragged around the edges. Bianca raises an eyebrow at her, half-hoping that her weekend hookup had not gone according to plan, and immediately feeling a bit guilty for the thought.

“You alright there?”

“Yeah, I just had like, the most exhausting weekend.”

“Wild parties?”

“Not exactly. So...okay, well, you know my friend, Violet came to town-”

“Yeah, I recall hearing about your burlesque dancer friend,” Bianca says with a slight edge to her voice. She ignores the tightness in her chest, walking to the rack and pulling out Courtney’s outfit for the day.

“Aaanyway, she was here with the whole dance troupe for their tour. And their show is like, X-rated. So I figured, okay, why not let a bunch of them stay over? Assuming the weekend would be filled with like, straight up debauchery and group sex and drunken shenanigans.”

Bianca turns back around, looking at her curiously.

“...And?”

“And, it was nothing like that!” Courtney sighs, exasperated. “I felt like the den mother of a damn sorority. They were the most high maintenance, shrill, annoying group of women…”

Bianca cracks up, holding the dress out for Courtney to slip over her head.

“So no orgies?”

“No! Super disappointing. I did make Violet sleep with me, though. I told her that she was getting a housing allowance, so either she puts out or pays me enough for a spa day, because I’m very tense and I need some stress relief.”

“And she chose sex?”

“Yeah, which was actually better. She’s very talented. She’s learned so many new skills since the last time we were together,” Courtney smirks, “And-”

“That’s prostitution, you know,” Bianca interrupts, happy to change the trajectory of this conversation. “Using sex as payment?”

“So? You have a problem with prostitution?” she chuckles.

“Well. I mean, if you want to get technical, it’s sort of illegal.” She zips up the dress, then begins to check the seams.

“Well, if you want to get technical, you’re married, and marriage is sort of a form of prostitution, so…” Courtney tongue pops.

“In what way?!” Bianca cries.

“Well. Who makes more money, you or Jared?”

“He does. So what?”

“Who spends more money?” Courtney asks pointedly, smirking.

“He does! You fucking twat.” Bianca crosses her arms.

“Oh really?”

“Yes, really, and fuck you. He drives an Audi, and I drive a Camry. He wears $500 suits, and this?” Bianca gestures to the outfit she’s wearing. “Is from Target. I am super fucking frugal, okay? When I really wanna splurge, I get the produce from Whole Foods instead of Trader Joe’s.”

Courtney laughs, hands up in surrender.

“Alright, alright, you’re not a prostitute…”

“Jared spends WAY more money, actually, now that I think of it. He’s got 3 surfboards and a vintage Harley and a Gibson guitar. Now...ask me if he plays guitar. Go ahead. Ask.”

Courtney shakes her head, now laughing so hard she’s gasping for breath.

“Stop, oh my god…”

“‘Marriage is prostitution.’ I should cut off his credit cards, to be honest.”

“Oh, I dunno,” Courtney says, wiping her eyes. “He sounds super responsible.”

“No. Not in the slightest. He’s cute though, so...”

“Huh...”

“What?” Bianca narrows her eyes.

“No, just...maybe he’s the prostitute.” Courtney winks.

“You are the worst.”

***

On Wednesday, Bianca’s main task is to get a bunch of tailoring done for the upcoming week. She ropes Courtney into helping her after lunch, trying on both her and Farrah’s dresses so that she can get the hems right.

“So I'm like a human dress form?”

“Yeah, exactly. Is that a problem?”

“No, just checking,” Courtney laughs.

Bianca shakes her head, kneeling down with a pincushion and getting to work.

After a few moments of silence, Courtney looks down at Bianca, trying not to stare at her cleavage.

“God. Your eyelashes are so long…”

Bianca glances up with an amused expression.

“They’re extensions.”

“Extensions? What does that mean? Like fake lashes?”

Bianca laughs.

“You’re an actress, how do you not know about eyelash extensions?”

“Well I’m a lesbian and I live in Venice. That sounds incredibly painful, though.” Courtney’s brow creases.

“They’re just, like, permanent, individual fake lashes - hair extensions for your lashes.”

“Jesus. Well, they look real.”

“That’s the idea,” Bianca flutters her lashes. “We can’t all just fall out of bed looking perfect like you.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Courtney giggles.

“Oh, I don’t wear makeup, I just look like this all the time,” Bianca sighs, affecting a breathy, high-pitched Australian accent, making Courtney dissolve into fresh giggles. “You have to use a hair brush? How sad. I have little Disney birds that come in my window and arrange each strand in perfect beachy waves while I sleep-”

Courtney doubles over, gripping Bianca’s shoulder and squeezing tightly.

“Stop, oh my god!” she gasps, wiping her eyes. “First of all, your Australian accent is spot on, so kudos for that. Second, you’re seeing me after Delta’s worked on my hair, so that’s not really-”

“I’ve seen you getting out of your car. It looks exactly the fucking same. Shut up.”

“Well either way, your hair looks way more Disney than mine, soooo-”

“That’s because I spend 45 minutes with a blow dryer and a straightener and a curling iron and 4 different products because god forbid I use hairspray that actually works, noooo, that kills the ozone layer.”

“Well, it’s totally enviable, and on behalf of someone with a severe lack of melanin, I thank you for considering the ozone layer,” Courtney says. “Although, I bet your hair’s beautiful without all that stuff too.”

Bianca scoffs.

“No. It’s not. Trust me.”

“Well now I’m curious. What does it look like? Is it really curly?” Courtney’s eyes glitter.

“It’s frizzy. And my point is, that most people look like shit unless they put a lot of effort into it. Hair and makeup and all that take a fucking lot of time in the morning, and it sucks, but I have to do it, to be presentable in society, but you won’t ever understand that, because, well…” Bianca gestures to Courtney’s reflection in the mirror.

Courtney rolls her eyes slightly.

“You’re way prettier than you think.”

“Oh shut up. I’m sitting here working on this hem, and you didn’t shave your legs today-”

“Or at all this week,” Courtney laughs.

“-and it doesn’t matter, because you have 3 blonde hairs on your legs. Meanwhile, I have to laser literally every inch of my body. Like, everything below the eyelashes, or I look like a werewolf.”

Courtney giggles.

“Well, if I go hairless, I look pre-pubescent. It’s kind of disturbing. At least you look like an adult woman.”

“You’re missing my point on purpose, aren’t you?”

“No, I just think, like, all that stuff is super exhausting, and it sounds like it’s exhausting for you, and so...fuck it. Why not just take a break and see what it feels like to be a normal person with no makeup and body hair and-”

“And a divorce?” Bianca challenges, arching her brow.

Courtney pauses, then says, “You think that if you didn’t laser the hair off your entire body, blow dry your hair straight, wear a full face of makeup and French manicure, your husband would divorce you? You really think he’s that shallow?”

“I mean...I don’t know, he’s never really seen me without all that, so…”

“Well, I think we need to find out.” Courtney slaps the table beside the sewing machine. “I’m willing to risk it for science.”

“You’re willing to risk my marriage?” Bianca clarifies.

“Yeah,” Courtney says with a devious grin.

“Thanks, you fucking cunt,” Bianca laughs.

***

Bianca slides under the covers, glancing over at Jared, who is glaring at his computer screen.

“Fuck!” Jared exclaims.

“What's the matter?” Bianca asks.

“This fucking spreadsheet that Willam just sent me. It's a bunch of garbage. Ever since I got promoted, I've been noticing that his work is like...everyone thinks he's this super genius, but I think that what he's really a genius in is the art of bullshit.” Jared closes his laptop with a sigh, setting it on the nightstand. “I'm gonna have to spend all morning fixing this in time for the presentation. That fucking cum stain.”

Bianca nods sympathetically, moving closer to him.

“I'm sorry babe. Although...I do remember...a really perceptive woman with very developed bullshit detectors saying something similar about Willam...was it two years ago?”

Jared groans, crossing his arms.

“Shut up.”

Bianca flings a leg over him and deepens her voice, imitating Jared.

“Bianca, don't say that. Will’s my boy, he's the best.”

“I really hate it when you fucking start with me…” Jared whines.

Bianca continues her impression, sounding as fratty as possible.

“He's got my back, babe. A total bro. He's the best in the business-”

“That's it!” Jared grabs Bianca by the waist and flings her onto her back, causing a yelp as he attacks her with kisses. “Using my own words against me, that's totally unfair.”

“I just want you to admit I was right,” Bianca breathes, as his hands wander over her body.

“Never.” He sucks on her neck, easing her panties down slowly.

“Admit it!” she giggles, sliding her arms around his shoulders.

“You're such a fucking bitch.”

She clicks her tongue.

“That's sort of beside the point.”

With a sneer, he pushes inside her, pausing briefly to ask, “Are we…?”

“You think I'd let you call me a bitch if we were making a baby?”

“Don't you want our kid to know the truth?” Jared pins her arms over her head, now thrusting harder, panting in her ear.

“Touché,” Bianca laughs, arching up against him. “I guess it takes one to know one.”

Jared glares down at her.

“Always gotta have the last word, don’t you?” he grunts through gritted teeth, body still, eyes blazing.

“Babe…” she wrenches her hand free to press it against his cheek, anxiety rising in her chest. “I’m sorry…”

He rolls away with a scoff, pulling up his underwear.

“Jared, please.” She reaches for him again. “I’m sorry, okay? I was teasing, I thought you were, too-”

“You do that all the time. Make me feel like an asshole.” He stands, shrugging her hands away, picking up his laptop and a blanket.

“I don’t mean to. I’m sorry. Really...” Her breath hitches. Why didn’t she just stop, before it got to this point? Why doesn’t she know better by now? “Please come back to bed, babe.”

With one last scoff, he stalks out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Bianca lays back down, heart racing, rubbing her eyes. Fuck.

***

The next morning, Bianca stands in front of her bathroom mirror, combing out her wet hair. She wipes some of the fog away, smiling slightly to herself when she sees her natural curls forming. For a brief moment, she considers whether to put the blow dryer away and let it air dry, loose and wild, a secret thrill rippling through her at the thought.

She jumps slightly when the door opens, dropping her comb. Jared walks over to her, silently wrapping his arms around her waist, burying his face in her neck.

“Hey,” she says tentatively, still slightly unsure where his head is going to be.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I was such a fucking child last night.”

Bianca sighs with relief, leaning back against him.

“I know I’m not as smart as you. But when you say it out loud, I just--”

“Jared, that is not what I was saying, baby.” She turns around to look at him. “I think you’re brilliant, okay? It’s one of the many reasons I love you.” She strokes his face, continuing, “But I also think that you have a soft spot for your buddy. So, you overlook some of his character flaws. Which was fine when you guys were on the same level. But now you’re his boss, and you gotta get him in line. And I have no doubt that you can do it.” She tucks her face into his neck, kissing him softly, fingers trailing along his jaw.

“Is that right?”

“Mmhmm…” Her hands slide around his bare shoulders. She smiles into his skin, biting at him teasingly as his fingers tighten around the silky material of her robe.

“That was kinda bossy,” he says.

“Yeah, well, that’s cause I’m a boss,” she replies, pulling her head up to look at him, an impish smirk on her face.

“I know,” he says, cupping her face, pressing her back against the counter. “You’re perfect. And you know, you’re gonna be the best mother. Because you already deal with the biggest baby in the whole world.”

She giggles, kissing him softly as he tugs on her belt, pulling her robe open.

“When are you…?”

“A couple more days.”

“Oh.” Jared lifts her onto the counter, then rests his hands on her thighs. “So, we really need to practice. Get prepared for game day.”

“Well, I do have a 1 pm call time...” She leans her head back against the mirror, whimpering slightly as his hands slide up her body, brushing her lips against his jaw.

“If that’s not a sign from god, I don’t know what is…”

***

VALENTINA: Hola! It's me, Valentina. I had fun this weekend. This may sound crazy but I think I left a hair clip at your place. I know it's dumb but I'm kind of attached to it. It has red roses on it. 🌹🌹🌹

VALENTINA: I'm sorry to be a pain. Lol

COURTNEY: It’s no problem, I'll look when I get home.

VALENTINA: OMG thank you so much. Also, if you happen to be free, my friend Enrique is having a party on Friday. You wanna be my date? 🌹

COURTNEY: Can I get back to you later in the week? We usually do night shoots on Fridays.

VALENTINA: I’m sorry, lol, I didn’t mean to be so pushy

COURTNEY: You’re not! I just don’t know what time we’re gonna wrap. I might have to roll in late looking a bit rough...

VALENTINA: Lol you’ll look gorgeous. I can't wait. 🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

*

“Courtney!” Adore bursts into the wardrobe trailer. “Holy shit, girl, tell me you did not sleep with that crazy bitch Valentina this weekend!”

Courtney and Bianca both turn to Adore slowly.

“Uhhh...I could tell you that, but it would be a lie.”

“Dude, what the fuck? Why would you do that?”

“Um, because she was beautiful, and...willing. And, I’m single. I dunno. It’s not like I’m marrying her, calm down.”

“Have you not heard Shea’s stories about that girl?” Adore sighs.

“...No?” Courtney ventures.

“She’s fucking nuts, bro. She used to text her 50 times a day and like, even called her office and once she-”

“Adore, you know how dramatic Shea is. She seemed like a very nice girl. We had a good time. She even made me breakfast.”

“At your house or her house?” Adore asks, crossing her arms.

“My house, why?”

“Lock your doors at night, is all I have to say.”

“Thanks for your concern,” Courtney laughs.

Adore shakes her head, exiting the trailer.

“So apparently you got laid this weekend?” Bianca says lightly. She zips up her dress, trying not to stare at the deep scratch marks covering her back and shoulders.

“Yeah,” Courtney answers casually, looking at Bianca's face in the mirror. For some reason, she’s not sure how much she wants to elaborate about her rendezvous with the beautiful Latina girl who’d caught her eye at Roosterfish. Her glittering eyes, ruby lips and deep curves. The way, in a certain light, her lovely face looked a little familiar, the way holding her close satisfied a particular ache. So she flips it around with a coy, “You?”

“No comment.” Bianca smirks at her.

“That good, huh?” Courtney chuckles.

“Shut the fuck up,” Bianca laughs, shaking her head. “You rude bitch.”

Courtney giggles while Bianca pins the straps of her dress. “Well, mine was delightful. Don’t believe Adore’s hysterics. She was...something else. Body to die for. Gorgeous smile. I spotted her across the dance floor and just…” Courtney tongue pops.

“That easy, huh?”

“Like candy from a baby,” Courtney smirks, winking at Bianca in the mirror.

Bianca clears her throat, shaking her head slightly. A notification goes off on Courtney’s phone and she looks down, frowning slightly.

“Huh.”

“What?”

“Um, it’s just...I got a Facebook notification. It's kind of...strange.”

“Be a little more cryptic, it’s not like I'm working,” Bianca says, rolling her eyes.

“Sorry.” Courtney holds up her phone to show Bianca the screen.

Valentina Leyva tagged you in her life event: In a Relationship with Courtney Hamilton.

Bianca raises her eyebrows. “Uhhh. When did you meet her?”

Courtney puts down the phone. “Saturday.”

Bianca whistles. “You forgot to give the baby her candy back.”

“...fuck.”

“And...it sounds like you owe Adore an apology.”

Courtney groans.

*

COURTNEY: Um. I’m not sure exactly how to say this sensitively…

VALENTINA: Ok i’m a little scared lol

COURTNEY: Yeah, uh...what’s with the Facebook thing?

VALENTINA: OHHHH! Hahaha omg sorry, that’s just me and my friends messing around. We thought it was funny. 🌹

COURTNEY: I’m probably just missing the joke

VALENTINA: Like, he said it would be cute lol

COURTNEY: It’s not

VALENTINA: Ok i said sorry, you don’t have to get weird about it, wtf

COURTNEY: I’m going to respectfully disengage from this conversation. Have a nice day!

VALENTINA: YOU are gonna “disengage”

VALENTINA: What does that even mean?

VALENTINA: Why aren’t you answering my calls???

VALENTINA: Oh I see how it is

VALENTINA: CUNT 

VALENTINA: 🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

VALENTINA: Courtney, you’re being stupid, I just want to talk.

VALENTINA: I still want you to come Friday.

VALENTINA: We can work this out, okay? I don’t understand why you are being so mean. You said you wanted to see me again...

VALENTINA: PICK UP PICK UP PICK UP PICK UP

COURTNEY: Please stop calling.

VALENTINA: UR A BITCH

VALENTINA: PLEASE PICK UP

VALENTINA: Please Courtney

#rpdr fanfiction #bianca del rio #courtney act #bitney #adore delano #valentina #oc #lesbian au #au #fluff #angst #undone #stephanie #veronica