he's an even taller drink of water

Maybe Next Time (Jin x reader)

You looked down at your phone, it just turned 10. You were tired of waiting, you gulped down your glass of wine and Jin’s then scraped his food on your empty plate. You groaned in frustration, he promised he would be back no later than 8, you understood, he was an idol, and he had very strict schedules. The least he could do was text you that he was going to come late though! As you cleaned the dishes, you set them to dry, you then tossed your shoes onto the floor and sat on your bed. Tears were beginning to well in your eyes, maybe you shouldn’t have went on that first date with him. Maybe you shouldn’t even have gotten introduced to him. You wiped your eyes furiously and grabbed a bag, you stuffed clothes into it and jotted down a note.

You will not stay here any longer, you were lovely, he left you for God knows how long! Then again.. He did say he would have a strict schedule. You tucked your hair behind your ear, what do you do? You looked around the apartment, you remember when he moved out of the dorm into your apartment, you two were much closer and more intimate, now he was barely home. You sat back onto the bed, should you leave? Your phone buzzed just then.

Jinnie: i should be home soon

You can technically leave, you weren’t really famous anymore, you can just leave the apartment key with him, pack all your stuff then go instead of just packing one flimsy backpack with an outfit. If you were having these thoughts of leaving him, would they maybe go away? You looked at the wall, showing 2 years worth of photos, you swallowed the lump in your throat.

“What do I do..” You whispered, you then heard the lock on your door turn, you quickly ran into the bathroom, shoving your backpack into the dirty laundry basket and turned on the faucet.

“__? Are you in the bathroom?” Jin asked, you stayed quiet, your eyes were a bit pink, although not red from full on crying. Maybe you can fool him? No, he’s not an idiot. You decided to take action, you dipped your head into the sink and splashed water on your face.

“__, did you already eat?” Jin asked as he attempted to open the door, “__, the door is locked, I’ll be in the kitchen ok?” As you heard his whistling go quiet, you turned off the water. He has no idea. He has no idea that this was 3 years. Did he forget? Does he not have an alarm or a date on the calendar? You looked back in the laundry basket, your bag hidden in the clothes. What do you do? You walked out of the bathroom, you found Jin sitting on the couch with a bowl of cereal, watching TV.

“How was filming?” You asked as you sat on the other side of the couch, he nodded with a mouthful of cereal. Oh no.. You felt it, the feeling you felt when you first moved in. You couldn’t go through with leaving him.

“It was good, I missed you though!” He stated as he smiled at you, he then held up his finger, “I have something for you!” He said, you began to feel hopeful. Maybe he did remember the anniversary.

“Can I take a guess?” You asked, once he came from the small office, he held a bag.

“You can open it whenever, I hope you like it!” Jin smiled, you then looked at the bag. It was small and black bag, with a ribbon tying the bag from opening. You pulled one end and pulled out a box. Maybe he did remember! Maybe this is a ring? Could it be a promise ring? Jin was looking at you with excitement. As you opened the box, you felt your heart drop. It was a keychain with a monkey.

“I remembered how much you liked these when we went to Jeju Island!” Jin smiled, he didn’t remember. You then smiled at him with a chuckle.

“I can’t believe you’d remember that!” You laughed, you placed the monkey back into the box and walked to your room, you placed the bag in your nightstand and sat on your bed. Did he not see the dishes in the sink? Or smell the food in the trashcan? You then reopened your nightstand and grabbed the purple box and looked inside, which had a bracelet. Should you give this to him? Would it make him remember? It was worth a try.

“I got you something, Jin.” You smiled, he then placed his bowl on the counter and smiled as you handed him the gift.

“I wonder what it is.” He sang, once he opened the box he smiled at you, “__, you really didn’t have to.” He stated, you shook your head and smiled.

“I wanted to, don’t worry about it.” You smiled, did he remember?

“What’s the occasion for this? It’s such a nice bracelet.” He smiled as he tried it on, you swallowed.

“I just felt like spoiling you.” You lied, he didn’t remember. He then gave you that familiar smile that made your knees weak, he then kissed your forehead.

“You’re the sweetest, I’m going to bed, will you join me?” He asked, you then nodded, he placed his bowl into the sink. Maybe he’ll see the dishes! But no avail, he walked off, tugging off his shoes and placing them near the door. He didn’t remember anything. And it will probably stay like that. You couldn’t do it, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave him. You sat on the couch, your hands on your knees and your gaze straight forward. No, you’re no coward, you can bring yourself to leave him!

“Jin?” You called, you walked into your shared room, but he was in the bathroom. You looked at the note on the door, did he really not see that? Or maybe he did and he ignored it? You were hoping he was quiet from sadness, as you were listening in, you heard him whistle. When did your relationship become like this? Was it when he went famous? You always thought he didn’t have a chance, as bad as it was. Companies are so picky, you thought he had a slim chance. But here he is, going on tour, meeting many people, and going on talk shows. When people would ask about you, it was no doubt that he was very in love with you. But why don’t you feel the connection any more? What changed?

“Jin, I need to talk to you when you’re finished.” You called, you then heard an ok, things were that simple now. He didn’t question anything anymore. You decided you needed another glass of wine, how would you even bring yourself to talk to him about this? You were there for everything, can you easily just walk away? Stop! Stop with these thoughts! Yes! Yes you can! You’re unhappy aren’t you? Right?

“Am I unhappy?” You whispered to yourself as you poured yourself a hearty glass of wine, once you heard the water stop running, you chugged the glass down. Hell, you even began to drink from the bottle.

“__, where are you?” Jin asked, you then waved him over once you made eye contact from across the room, once he walked over he smiled at you, waiting for you. You looked at his face, he’s grown so much. He’s gotten taller, stronger, more handsome. You handed him your glass, and poured him some wine, you then stared at his hands, the hands you held, the ones that wiped your tears and ones that held you close. He couldn’t have been more perfect to you. You then swallowed.

You couldn’t do it.

“__?” Jin asked with concern as he held your hand, the time was now 11. You nodded, staring at him.


“You said you had something to talk to me about?” Jin chuckled, you nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat.

No, you can do it! You can do it! Just four simple words. We should break up. Not that hard, you can do it!

“We should get a dog. It gets lonely here.” You smiled, Jin then nodded and chuckled.

“I think so too! We should go looking for dogs soon then.” He smiled, he then held your hand and jerked his head towards the bedroom. “Come to bed with me?” He asked, you then nodded your head in agreement.


You couldn’t do it.

SQ “Good morning” ficlet


A/N A sort of rewrite from 3B opening scene with Emma and Henry

The smell of slightly burnt bacon made Regina wrinkle her forehead as she entered in the kitchen, right hand grasping the earring she had been trying to put on her ear before the sizzling of the pan had make her leave the bathroom.

Lipstick already applied and otherwise perfectly dressed, the brunette stared pointedly at Emma who was already picking the pan from the stove. The taller woman winced as she let the pan fall into the sink, the sound of the too hot and slightly burnt bacon sizzling once again against the water once the blonde opened the faucet. Behind Emma, still drinking her orange juice with a small smirk curving her lips, Henry rolled his eyes as the blonde woman muttered a string of curses before turning towards Regina, red dusting her cheeks as she did so.

“You are unbelievable.” The brunette said even though her smile betrayed the harsh edge on her words. Henry snorted at her before he rose. Placing his plate on top of the smoking pan he turned towards Emma who was already pouting and gave her a kiss on her cheek before turning to Regina. The woman let him kiss her cheek as well, doing the same to him and wiping his cheek when the shadow of her lipstick left a smeared stain on his skin. The movement made him recoil in feigned disgust but he smiled as she picked up his school bag, handing it to him. Regina looked at him go, biting her bottom lip as she refrained herself from calling after him like every other morning.

He had grown taller ever since they had crossed the town’s line, towering now both of them. Near to her sixteen’s the boy didn’t look like the young boy that had once brought a stranger into Storybrooke while screaming. “I’ve found my real mother.” However, neither the woman that had answered with a shy “Hi” nor her were the same as well and as the teen left the house, keys clinking on his hand, Regina turned to look at Emma as well who was now raising the pan while still pouting.

Approaching her and putting a hand on her back the brunette noticed how Emma’s body stiffened slightly before relaxing again; a reflex that was becoming less pronounced with every month it passed. They really didn’t talk about it though and Regina wondered not for the first time if they should.

However, today, she merely kissed the blonde’s cheek when Emma glanced quickly at her, not bothering to clean the imprint of red she left behind before she picked the pan with one steady hand. “Let me? You already did our breakfast yesterday.”

“But my shift starts later than yours.” Emma replied with a pout. Which was true, to the surprise of no one Regina had quickly found a place to work, even quicker than Emma who had jumped from odd job to odd job until she had reconnected with some of her former contacts from her bail bondsperson days.

Regina, however, was having none of it and so she stared at the blonde until the woman let out a huff and moved away. Hugging Regina quickly and leaving a quick peck on the older woman’s lips she picked up the earring from Regina’s hand and fumbled with it, smile on her face.

“Good morning.” She said and Regina sighed and let herself enjoy the hug before she turned towards the stove.

“Good morning.”

Gone With the Wind

So I totally messed this up. I, for some reason, thought @kittenofdoomage‘s Movie Quote Challenge ran until January 31st … which turned out to not be the case at all. But this idea had been burning in my brain ever since I got my prompt, and I feel like today, the 77th anniversary of Gone With the Wind, is a poetic kind of culmination. Sorry this is so late, but I hope you guys enjoy.

RATING: Mature
CHARACTERS: John Winchester, female reader, Sarah Blake, Donna Hanscum (mentioned), Bobby Singer (mentioned), minor original unnamed characters
WARNINGS: THIS IS AN AU–characters are actors on the set of Gone With the Wind in the late 1930s; language, angst

PROMPT: “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.”

Originally posted by another-dimension666

Originally posted by classic-black-white

It was the last day for you on the movie set, and you couldn’t be happier. The past months had been nothing short of a roller coaster, and you’d be damned if you’d do another film for a good long while after this one.

Of course, this wasn’t just a regular movie. No, this was an epic tale of times long past, and somehow certain to give America the hope it needed in such dark times.

You stared into your teacup, letting out a breath. At the sound of something behind you, you lifted your head, looking into the mirror of your vanity, which gave a perfect view of the door behind you.

“Miss Y/N? They’re ready for you in makeup.”

You smiled at the young man who’d knocked lightly on your trailer door. You stood up, taking one last sip from your cup of tea, then sliding your feet into a pair of slippers and following the boy out to the makeup trailer. You faltered just a bit when you passed by his trailer, doing your best to keep looking forward instead of at him. He was standing outside the trailer door, a white shirt on with his brown pants and suspenders, hair tousled like he’d just woken up, which …

“Excuse me, what time is it?”

The young boy in front of you looked at his wrist.

“Half past eight, ma’am.”

You nodded. He had just woken up. Which meant the cigarette he was currently smoking was his first of the day. You quietly coughed into your hand, more to clear your head than your lungs, and stepped into the makeup trailer. Sarah walked over to you, a wide smile on her face, dark hair pulled back and twisted up.

“Last day, Y/N. You ready?”
“God, yes. I’m ready to get this over with.”
“You’re not going to miss us?”

You gave Sarah a smile.

“Oh, honey. Of course I will. You, I’ll miss terribly.”

She didn’t comment on your emphasis on the word “you,” immediately picking up on what you left unsaid. She went to say something, but the door opened, and by the look on her face, you kept looking straight ahead.

“Good morning, ladies.”

Your eyes drifted shut at the deep, raspy voice that rang through the trailer. Sarah, you knew, was smiling, because she was kind.

Keep reading

James Potter. Some Things

Based on something by the wonderfully talented apalapucian​ but naturally this got away from me and now I’m one giant mess please send help.


James Potter. Eleven. Dirty Fingernails. Cannot be bothered to deal with his hair. His Dad is the best person on earth. Goes to a lot of fancy brunches.  Has a scab on his left knee. Fell out of that tree in his yard and broke a tooth. Likes chicken. Counts ceiling tiles. Cannot wait to be able to do magic. Sick of adults telling him he is cute. Wants to go to school so bad it aches. Hates caldron cakes. Loves flying. Doesn’t know what an oven does. Is a little bit lonely. Likes Sirius Black. Thinks his new bed is comfy. Likes Remus Lupin. Likes Peter Pettigrew. Does not like Snivelius. Is undecided about Evans. Stays up to late. Smiles at the girls. Keeps losing his quill. Forgot about his owl for three months one time. Can’t write long letters. That was NOT his fault. Knows the answer. Thinks school is the best place on earth.

James Potter. Twelve. Starts the occasional food fight. Nearly broken his wand thirteen times. Is bad at puns. Pushed Sirius into the Lake once. Laughed until he almost threw up. Wants to know what’s up with Remus. Hates apples. Likes Peter’s last name. Sits at the back. Knows all the teachers. Tried to high-five McGonagall and she turned his hand into a rabbit puppet. Will get on the house Quiditch team even if it kills him. Thinks Dumbledore’s bloody mad. Likes him a lot for it. Drinks a ton of water. Likes teasing the girls. Snivellus is stupid. Evans is stupid for thinking Snivellus is not. Knows what’s up with Remus. Is going to help. Calls McGonagall ‘Kitty’. Learns how to throw a punch. Is actually quite good at it. Slytherins are shit heads. Loves his best mates a lot. Do not tell them he said that.

James Potter. Thirteen. Is a little taller. Still has weird hair. Drunk fire whiskey in the bathroom while skipping charms. Kissed Ella Monroe under the fourth staircase. Painted his dormitory wall. Do not tell Kitty. Only hit that guy because he deserved it. Does not understand Lily Evans at all. A show off. His Dad wasn’t around much this summer. Ate a whole cake on a dare. Remus won’t let him copy the homework. Peter needs to stop bloody humming. Read that bit in the paper about those people and felt his stomach drop. Robes constantly dirty. Sets a school record and scores thirty-nine shots in one game. Is really good with names. Lily Evans is bloody nuts. Hates Sirius’s family. Moves his feet a lot. Thick eyelashes. Has he mentioned yet that Lily Evans is fucking insane?

James Potter. Fourteen. A lot taller. Doesn’t swear in front of his Mother. Wonders where his Dad keeps going. Sirius DOES NOT have better hair. Runs in the morning. Freckles. Is always bloody late. Smells like soap and cigarettes. Of course he wasn’t SMOKING by the GREENHOUSES don’t be RIDICULOUS Professor. Is so messy it drives Peter insane. Thinks Lily Evans is pretty. Hates the wind. Snowball fights. Screaming off the top of the Astronomy tower. Wore high heels one time. It was Sirius’s idea. Snivellus is not good for Evans. Is really good at telling stories. Always finding random shit in his pockets. Once saw his Dad come in at three a.m. on a Tuesday. Is always hungry now. Robes don’t fit. Briana. Kelly. Ariana. Lucille. Beth. Needs to break up with Lydia tomorrow. Flying. Is not scared of that name. Holy shit Lily Evans is really pretty what the fuck. Likes Lily Evans

James Potter. Fifteen. Has a lower voice. Planned that party in the common room. Likes the rain. Can turn into a stAG HOLY FUCK SIRIUS IT WORKED. Always cracking his knuckles. Lily Evans has hair like the sun spat at her. Licks the lollipops. Steals food off Remus’s plate. Tired after full moons. Was not sleeping during detention. Snivellus is an embarrassment. Is a little bit worried about his O.W.L.S. Has nice lips. Slept with Matilda Savage. Forgets to dot his ‘I’s all the time. Did not mean to make him say it. Does feel bad. Knows that some of it is his fault. Wants to take Lily Evans out on a date for real. Needs to stop interrupting people. Needs to grow up a bit.

James Potter. Sixteen. Can’t remember the washing-up spell. Can’t dance. Never puts the seat down. Saw his Dad kissing that other woman who was not his mother. Does not know what to do. The lists in the paper are longer. He does not like it. Avoids Snape. Tries to keep Sirius whole. Makes Remus eat dinner. Laughs with his head back. Very tall now. Lily Evans’s Herbology partner. It is a little awkward. Very good at lying now. Collects fire whiskey bottle caps. Talks to Lily in-between classes. Tries not to drag his feet. Steals Peters chocolate frogs. Doodles on his left knee. Made Lily Evans laugh in Transfiguration. Laughs and Sirius when he stands with his hands on his hips. Is worried about the person with red eyes and a name like a swear word. Tries to forget about it. Fails. Can’t save money for shit. Bought Lily feathered high heels for her birthday. Laughed when she wore them around the common room. Took the rap for that library prank. Is right handed but throws the Quaffle with his left. Is actual friends with Lily Evans. Likes how she writes her ‘g’s. Confronted his Dad. Is sick of stupid homework. Wears slippers to breakfast. Helps little kids who get lost.  Fell off his broomstick and broke his leg. Saw Lily Evans pacing in the waiting room. Likes Lily Evans a whole bloody lot. Smiles. Grown up a bit.

James Potter. Seventeen. Never ties his shoes. Gets headaches thinking about home. Likes the way Lily Evans taps her collarbone when she’s nervous. Sings louder when Sirius tells him to shut up. Read his Mothers diary. Kicks his feet. Doesn’t talk to his Dad anymore. Likes Lily Evans’s laugh. Is a morning person. Hates coffee. Hates it when Remus goes on about spelling. Wonders why Pete is always so pale. Is fucking terrified of what’s happening. Forces himself to read the list of names in the paper. Will not go down quietly. Likes the way Lily Evans numbs that scared part of his brain. Worried about Sirius. Worried about Remus. Worried about Peter. Worried about everyone. Laughs when Lily pulls the finger. Punched Johnny Crook when he said Lily was a whore. Makes fun of Lily’s shitty books. Wears trashy sunglasses. Laughs when she hits him on the nose. Gets drunk and thinks about the freckles on her knees. Forgot his own middle name once. Hugs her when she gets the letter about her parents. Knows she hates blue. Saw her walk into a door once. Feels better when he traces patterns on her skin. Thinks she is made of bricks and Diamonds. When she kisses him his head explodes. Buys flowers for the fun of it. Almost forgets about everything when you talk to her. Jumps on the bed. Has a scab on his left knee again. Still Counts Ceiling tiles. Still hates apples. Is infuriatingly in love with Lily bloody Evans. Doesn’t mind one bit

Something Sweet - Chapter 5.

Night Flashbacks & Frozen Walks.

“LEFOU!” He heard the manly voice impatiently shouting his nickname from the other bedroom, making him jump exhasperatedly. LeFou then dropped whatever he was busy with and hurried to walk past the door of the room. Gaston was never easy, and much less when he had drank more than 15 beer mugs already. LeFou always tried to stay sober to keep everything in order, even though his taller mate sometimes could convince him to drink a bit together.

“You called, Gaston?” LeFou friendly asked. A not-so-sober Gaston almost funnily turned his head to his friend, frowning in the middle of his drunkeness. LeFou, already conscious of Gaston’s actual drunken state, didn’t think twice and walked closer to him on his big sized bed. “I can bring you some fresh water if you-”

“I want no water! I… Hip! I just want Be-Belle…” Gaston spat angrily, and then proceeded to slap LeFou away, obviously sending him right to the wall. This one fell on his head, and, taking a jar from of his head, quickly turned his sight to Gaston, still not sure about the reasons of this one’s constant bad moods and tantrums. Gaston was now facing the floor, sitting in the edge of his bed - He did really look like feeling very dizzy, but he didn’t want him to feel bad anymore, so he just stood up as if anything had happened and walked back with him, but this time a little slower than before. Facing him, LeFou stayed there for a while, not willing to get any closer to Gaston.

This last one got his head up after a while, and glanced LeFou for a moment - This one smiling at him, a bit too awkwardly.

Gaston gave him a smirk back, and made a “come here” gesture. LeFou pushed himself closer without even thinking twice, (As if he ever thought once, anyway) and Gaston suddenly wrapped him in a tight embrace with a single arm and pushed him closer to him, taking Fou by surprise.

“Have I ever told you-Hip! That I- That I want you so much… Right?” Gaston muttered, almost clumsily, looking at his faithful companion. LeFou thought what his response would be. As there was any answer by LeFou’s part, Gaston didn’t seem to care and, almost too tightly, pushed LeFou even closer. Now he was hugging LeFou between his legs and in the edge of his bed - This one more confused than ever. Why was he suddenly hugging him so friendly? Was it the alcohol?

Why on Earth was he even hugging him just a couple of minutes after kicking him against a wall?

“G-Gaston, are y-” As always, LeFou couldn’t finish his sentence when Gaston disrupted it himself.

“Shh” He hushed LeFou, and put his nose against his litte companion’s brown hair, sighing against him. LeFou stopped smiling when he did - Yet, he could feel Gaston smirking against his ear.

It all had happened days before LeFou had to run away.

Stanley wasn’t able to sleep a wink that nigh - Nor had he wished so. He could swear his LeFou had just whined a name. That name…

For a very obvious reason, he didn’t like hearing LeFou saying Gaston’s name on his dreams instead of his. Why not his?, He wondered - And worried about what kind of sad memory was LeFou living right on. But he realized then that it was no moment for this. He decided to wake LeFou up - Besides getting worried, he was starting to feel hungry.

Going closer to him, Stanley softly grabbed LeFou’s shoulder, willing to wake him up from his nightmare.

“Fou?” He briefly whispered, so he would not wake up too exhasperated. “Everything is alright, mon chérie - I’m here!” He shaked him gently, proceeding to hush softly for him in order to relax him. LeFou slowly opened his eyes with disdain, still not used to the morning sun’s light. As Stanley smiled at him, he just covered himself with the sheets and turned away from him. Stanley frowned at this.

“Come on, why don’t you wake up? Aren’t you even hungry?” Stanley complained, only to receive a desdainful groan. As Stanley crossed his arms and turned away in an obvious annoyance, LeFou simply pressed the pillow tighter agaisnt his head, trying to hear through this one’s complains. Couldn’t he understand he didn’t have an easy night for once?

They stayed like that for a while, until Stanley finally gave up insisting and stood up from their bed.

“I’m going to make us breakfast. If you don’t like just stay.” And with this, he walked past the door and closed it behind him. LeFou then poked his sigh out of the pillow, not expecting him to leave like that - And starting to feel like the rudest piece of trash in the world.

Stanley, who was already downstairs, was thinking about anything to breakfast soon. In any other situation, he would have rather to prepare a huge Viennoiserie for them both and calm the situation through LeFou’s bottomless stomach - But then, realizing he had no intentions to last 1 hour for preparing such bread, Stanley decided to take a couple of simple croissants out of the breadbasket. Not that they were very fresh, but better than nothing - Right?

Resting his weight against the stone meson, he too a bite of his croissant and awaited for LeFou to arrive. He was too greedy to resist any kind of breakfast - And, just as he expected, he could hear his footsteeps going downstairs to the kitchen.

“Your croissant is on the table.” Even though Stanley was turning his back to him, LeFou nodded anyway and hurried to get his little breakfast from the table. He couldn’t resist a good croissant when he saw it - No matter how many times they could fight. They ate rather silently, Nothing could be heard else than the munch of the bread on their mouths.

Stanley didn’t like this situation - LeFou neither. But neither of them would dare to say a word, and they didn’t even know why. All while LeFou was trying to make the situation less uncomfortable for both of them, Stanley thought of a way they could get along again - Until he remembered.

“The lake!” LeFou turned to him, surprised.

“What?” Fou tilted his head in confussion.

“I mean… You know that lake that’s a few kilometers from the forest? The one that’s in a clearing.” LeFou nodded in response. “You didn’t know this, but me and the boys like to go every winter and we have lots of fun there. I was thinking… Why wouldn’t I take you with me this winter? The snow is starting to melt already and it’s the perfect time because the lake’s ice is thiner. Would you like to join us?”

Without even thinking twice, LeFou nodded in excitement and, after they finished their croissants, they grabbed their coats and went outside. It was 6:25 yet - So the village’s streets were, afortunately, almost totally empty. This was actually good because they didn’t want to see anybody after what had happened with Gaston just a days ago and how the village had acted while.

They walked through the snowy streets talking about everything and anything - Pure triviality. Those kind of little things and simple moments that you, unconsciously, never forget. While walking down, they stop at a store that was just opening.

“If we’re hanging out, the best is for us to take some food. I’ll buy a few snacks.” Stanley stated, taking his leather wallet out.

“Well! I’ve got some livres in my pocket, we could-”

“No, LeFou - I’ve got enough money. You can go walk around and see if you can buy anything you’d like to take. If it’s not enough I can fullfill your amount, mon ciel.” He whispered at the end of his sentence, making sure no one but LeFou would hear. Then, he smiled at him, and LeFou smirked back, running to another stores where to buy any candy he’d please.

He walked down past the stores, not being able to choice. As he didn’t want Stanley to arrive too late to their meeting because of him, he just entered any random store he found on his way, and closed the door behind.

Not a very smart choice, though - As he saw himself in the library nobody really frequented but Belle.

As one could expect, Belle was already there, choicing a book she probably had read a few times already, for her to enjoy and the bookseller behind her, happily talking about anything with each other. LeFou didn’t want to be seen, for what was he supposed to do inside a library?

He turned himself to the door and, walking on his tip-toes, raised a hand to turn the door handle, but suddenly stopped when he was called out.

“Why, hello Monsieur LeFou! Didn’t expect you to be around here.” The bookseller greeted him with a jovial smile, and he nerviously giggled to him. “It is odd for you to be around. What do you wish?”

LeFou didn’t know what to answer, while Belle turned at them, in disbelief. What was LeFou actually doing inside there?

Whatever it was the reason, it should have been good; She saw in LeFou a great potential that just required to be exploted to the edge. It was such a shame, for the young man hardly learned how to think all by himself. The fact he was tiny didn’t mean he couldn’t methaphorically grow up - He was hardly taught how to actually spell his own name.

“I can help you pick a book, LeFou.” She friendly offered. He wasn’t interested in any books, and had no clue about how to read anyway - He didn’t want to end by stuttering unsense sentences and ashame himself in front of someone as smart as Belle, but who was he to say no to Belle? She hadn’t been mean with them as far as he remembers. She even worried for him when Gaston and Stanley fought last time, LeFou remembered.

“W-well, if you say so…” He stuttered, not quite sure yet. She excitedly grabbed his wrist and leaded him to her favorite library’s section, almost making him stumble. The bookseller just laughed happily at them both and glady continued all his work. Belle took him to one of the primary sections, and she questioned without even turning her head.

“Which genre do you like the most? There are plenty here!” She explored them with the tip of her fingers. “Drama, poetic romance, adventure…”

LeFou was about to pick adventure, but then his thoughts centred on Stanley. He loved him, he really did, and learning a bit about romance would maybe improve their relationship - Whatever it was. Hesitating a bit, he told her his choice for the moment.

“Hmm… Ro… Romance, it is” LeFou said almost in a whisper, for he didn’t want anybody to hear (Which didn’t make much sense for there was no one in the library besides them)

“Romance?” Belle repeated, nearly in disbelief. Why romance? Why, between every genre she named, could he pick romance?

The only solution is that, he either changed his point of view, or simply and simply fell in love.

But who with?

With a cheeky smile, she took an old-looking book from the section, making sure it had pictures on it, in order to make it easier for LeFou to understand it and not finding it boring. Its cover was blue and was considerably heavy. Not quite interesting at first sight. - Then, they both sat in a little round reading table, one besides another. She cleared her voice, and, in a pretty poethical voice tone, she read the book’s sypnosis, and then proceeded to read the first chapter for him.

“In a far away land, long ago, lived a king and his fair queen. Many years had they longed for a child and finally their wish was granted…”

LeFou, with his hands crossing in the table, carefully listened to her reading. As she read, she pointed with her finger every line she recited, LeFou trying to connect the letters with the words in his head. It wasn’t quite easy for him and almost made his mind a confussion mess.

But, as long as the story carried on, he’s got more caught and caught by the plot - That, until they made it to chapter 3.

“I’m going to the castle…” She recited the Prince’s line.

LeFou couldn’t help a gasp when he remembered - Stanley! He had to go meet them for their appointment in the clearing!

“I’m late!” She turned her face to him. “Gosh! Stanley’s going to, he’s going to…”

“Wait, LeFou, keep calm” She said in order to soothe him. “Where are you going?”

“He… The boys… Me… The lake!” LeFou stuttered, and stumbled while trying to get off the chair. Then, he quickly stood up, cleaning the dirt from his coat and racing to the exit.

“Wait. Don’t you want to keep the book? You can give it back tomorrow!” She offered, and he gladly nodded and took the book with him.

Belle saw him hurrying to walk out from the bookstore - A proud smile drawn in her face. She was so happy LeFou was finally interested in literature, he was changing - For it’d mean he wasn’t going to be another Gaston, and that she wasn’t going to be the only bookworm from now on. There is nothing more interesting than a well-read person, she thought.

“See you later, Belle!” He said his goodbyes, and she waved her hand back. Leaving the money in the bookseller’s desk, he hugged the book against his chest and runned to join Stanley’s side, glad he was right on time with him.

Stanley carried a box with him, and LeFou assumed it was a delicious wet cake.

“Where had you been?” Stanley questioned, frowning in curiosity.

“I’ve been with a friend! You won’t believe what we did” LeFou told him, as excited like a little kid who had just received a wooden horse for Christmas. He then raised the book so that Stanley could admire it - Rather close to his face.

“A book?” He asked in confussion. Who was this and what did he do with LeFou?

“Yes! Belle is helping me learn to read. Isn’t that amazing, Stanley? Isn’t it?”

“Yes, yes… If you say so…” Stanley replied, pretending to not to be interested - But LeFou didn’t even notice.

Why was he even so excited? It was just a book!

“Guys!” Stanley greeted his friends, that were already sitting in a logs around the frozen lake. They all turned their attention to him, and smiled fondly.

“Stanley!” They cheered, and stood up, giving him a kick on his shoulder as a welcome.

“What did you bring? Is that cake?” Tom, curiosly the most greedy from them all, tried to look inside the box but Stanley slapped his hand. He then placed the box aside, sitting in the log.

They all started to talk about everything that had happened, laughing at Stanley’s jokes (Which had to be explained a few times to Dick) and just keeping up with everything.

Tom then turned his head and caught LeFou with his sight, who had not been noticed yet as he was sitting right besides Stanley, which basically covered him because of their different height.

“Stanley?” Dick spoke, keeping his voice down. “Why did you bring him?” He then questioned in confussion, only winning a reprimand glance from old Walter. But wasn’t LeFou supposed to be at Gaston’s?

“It’s kind of a long story… LeFou, come here” Stanley kindly pushed him closer.

“Had a long time we didn’t see you, LeFou! Tell us, where have you been?” The older of all of them asked confident. He had known LeFou since he was a child - Didn’t seem like he changed that much, neither.

“I’m staying at Stanley’s.” He simply answered, but Stan ended by receiving questioning glances from them all.

Knowing they wouldn’t leave them alone until he explained, he just sighed and briefly thought of a way of explaining the situation in a not very detailed way.

“He had a problem with Gaston and I wanted him to stay in my house while they fixed it. It is all.” Stanley answered deadpan. Everybody nodded and changed the topic, already understanding the nature of the problem.

“You guys came in the perfect moment - The ice in the lake is thiner, but not enough.” Tom explained, pointing at the lake.

“Yes, Stanley, you’re the bigger one on here.” This time, Dick talked up. “Would you like to have the honour…?”

“Yeah, totally!”

Stanley then stood up, smiling fully, and took his coat out, making LeFou question what was he about to do. He then walked backwards, preparing himself, and everybody glanced in excitement.

“Tally ho!” He shouts. Racing to the lake, he jumped all he could and broke the ice with his weight, immersing himself into the cold water and causing a great noise, followed by a splash that catched the boys and wet them all. LeFou protected the book against his coat, taking care of not letting it wet as well.

Everybody except by LeFou raced to the lake, cheering funnily, and bet how many time Stan would stay in the water. LeFou didn’t like the game way too much, rather because it worried him. It wouldn’t have meant anything if it was Dick or even Tom, but Stanley?

All for his relief, Stanley quickly poke his head out of the water and took a deep breath, everybody cheering him up. Going out of the hole in the ice he had just made, the boys took turns to jump one by one - But ended by  jumping all together.

“LeFou, don’t you want to join?” Dick asked from the water.

“But it is-”

“Too cold? Come on! Don’t be a girl!” Tom teased him, not conscious of the weight of his own words. Thinking about it a little, LeFou shrugged and let the book in the log, proceeding to join the guys in their -rather froze- bath, starting to immediately tremble from the cold.

Everybody laughed, not really impressed by his weakness in the icy water - He had never went with them to those hang outs while being so busy with Gaston after all, so he couldn’t be really blamed of not being used to their cold gatherings.

“Boys!” They all turned to Stanley. “Be prepared, because here I come!”

Running all his legs could afford, Stanley took another dip in the water, making everybody wet from the massive splash.

They stayed like that for a while, jumping into the water, Dick betting about who would make it to 5 minutes, testing their “manliness” by staying a lot in the water - That, until Stanley noticed something.

“LeFou, is it too cold?” He questioned, worrying for him. It was too obvious - LeFou’s nose was turning purple, and was way too pale. This one, hugging himself and shaking from the cold, nodded eager, and Stanley got out the water to sit besides him, winning confused glances from his friends. “I’ll get us both warm… Come here.”

Stanley then pushed LeFou’s body to him, and involved him in a tight hug, which didn’t last much to get way warmer than before. LeFou dryly swallowed, as the sensation of his Stan’s bare chest against his own made him feel so comfortable, and couldn’t help hugging back. He did really need the touch. His touch.

The boys stared at the scene way too puzzled, and frowned while looking at each other. Was that really happening?

“Uhm… Boys” Walter dried himself with his own toal, and Tom and Dick proceeded to do the same. “We’ll go… Buy something. See you in a moment… Save us cake”

“Yeah… Bon voyage” Stanley whispered in response, still inside their own bubble of warmth. He had totally forgotten they were all there, but if he was honest - It didn’t matter much to him a bit.

Once the others had went away from the clearing, Stanley had an idea. He took LeFou from his shoulders and smiled.

“You know what? The sunset it’s going to start in a minutes - I know a place we can watch it together.” Stanley told him, and LeFou smirked back, nodding in agreement. They proceeded to start looking for their own clothes and, dressing themselves up again, Stanley awaited for LeFou to join. He was way too excited, couldn’t deny it.

He loved sunsets, but watching them with someone he loved was something he could only dream of… Until now.

“Do you know how to climb?” Stanley leaded LeFou through the forest, gently but firmly holding each other hand. He knew the way as well as the palm of is own hand.

“Well, it depends…” LeFou hesitated a bit.

“We’re here.”

They stopped in front of a rather huge and old tree, that was about the size of several pine trees. LeFou swallowed saliva, still not sure if this was a good idea, but Stanley’s hand holding his own made his fear eventually decrease. Gosh, he had such an effect on him!

“Don’t worry. If you don’t want to, I can take you up there by myself instead.” Stanley smiled at him, while feeling LeFou’s firm hold at his hand - Immediately noticing how nervous this one was, because of how high it was from the ground - The safe ground. LeFou just nodded and Stanley kneeled in the ground. “Climb on my back.”

LeFou, insecure, did as asked, mounting Stanley’s back and holding himself around this one’s shoulders. Then, Stanley stood up with LeFou already holding on his back - He didn’t even notice his load that much!

“Hold yourself tight, mon chér.” Stanley said to him, and proceeded to climb the tree’s branches in order to reach the bigget of it, which was at the top. Making a joke of it all. With an increasing ease, he climbed as if he had done it since ever - And it was true, in some way. LeFou didn’t let go Stanley’s neck in any moment, as this one told him to not to ever look down, or else he could just freak out. “Be prepared, we’re almost there!”

Looking up at the top, LeFou eagerly held on until they approached the end. Stanley stepped the tree’s bigger branch and lied against the trunk for a moment, in order to catch his breath.

“Look around.”

LeFou directed his eyes to the landscape - And couldn’t believe his eyes. He simply couldn’t.

The old tree they were sitting upon, almost covered with snow, had worked as a home for like dozens of beautiful birds. The snow, that still hadn’t started to melt yet, covered the most of the hill’s field ground, but there were several little flowers that started to blossom from the snow, like desperated for the spring to arrive yet. In aside, where there was those rather big couple of branches, Stanley had leaded him to sit down.

“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable with the cold, so I brought up a sheet. Just in case.” He then spreaded it and covered the branchs with it. LeFou couldn’t help a warm smile.

“Stanley, the sunset! It’s starting!” LeFou excitedly exclaimed.

They both admired the beautiful landscape before their eyes. The sky had adopted a beautiful orange tone, mixed with purple as every winter sunset should be. The Sun, naturally, started to hide itself slowly in the edge of the land, and the purple on the sky gradually increased. They could almost feel the moon coming. LeFou felt like he had never witnessed such a beautiful show ever before.

Stanley gently rounded LeFou with his arm, and drew him closer. Fou could just lie his head on his lover’s shoulder - Feeling like he was going to drown with affection. He couldn’t ask for anything else now. Everything that once mattered was just gone now.

As the Sun was already in the middle of his hidding, Stanley softly kissed LeFou’s brown hair, inhaling his scent, longing for never being able of forgetting it. It was wonderful. Beautiful, and explendid. He once thought things like those only happened to people in fairytales, or to the very lucky ones, but now, he couldn’t be more sure. He was luck - And it was meant to be.

The sun finally fully hide before their eyes, and LeFou closed his eyes, now only feeling the warmth increase and increase even more, even with the sun’s absence. But he didn’t question it.

“Mon amour” Stanley softly called. When LeFou looked up, his sight locked with Stanley’s. And he realized - They were alone. They could do whatever they pleased withoug being judged.

Stanley grabbed his chin with all the kindness of the universe, and, tenderly, he placed his lips against LeFou’s own, sinking their world into their own dream. The fact that they needed no words, that they understood each other so well, with a single touch, with a single kiss… It just drove him crazy. He was crazy for his little Fou. He certainly was.

And if it was a dream, he didn’t want to ever wake up.

Sooo here’s chapter 5! Had to hurry ‘cuz it’s like 3:00 a.m. x’D Thank you for your support! The link for AO3 is here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11624580/chapters/27204756

“You – yeah, you, what are you doing?” John elbowed his way through the press of people around him. There was no way they could hear him, the music and shouting and laughter was too loud, too insistent. He kept shouting, though, as he got closer. “Oi – what the fuck? What are you doing?” His last word was emphasised as he grabbed the arm of a brawny lad who was in the process of forcing another shot practically down the throat of a very young-looking fresher.

The brawny lad’s equally burly mate looked up, face immediately squalling to a frown. “What’s it to you, mate?” he asked lazily, drawing down his brows. John looked him from head to toe, eyebrow raised. Posh voice, bad attitude, muscly as hell – not the rugby team though. Lacrosse?

“Well, mate,” he returned, calmly, “I’m a volunteer Freshers’ leader for the week. And this lad looks like he’s had enough. I don’t think he needs any more help from you.”

“Well he’s eighteen and can drink what he likes,” drawled Brawny. “We’re just hanging out with our new mate Sherlock. He has some very useful skills.” He sniggered and his pal joined in, smirking.

“Yeah, well, I think it’s my turn to hang out with Sherlock,” said John, pleasantly. He gave them a bland smile, squaring his stance just a little. “See you later,” he added, pointedly.

There was a moment of indecision as the two lads looked at each other. Then, lip curling, Brawny led the way to the bar.

John turned his attention to Sherlock, really looking at him for the first time. Wow. That cupid’s bow. Those curls. He took a breath. “Alright, Sherlock?” he asked, sticking his hand out to shake. “I’m John.”

“You are both nosy and interfering,” slurred Sherlock, struggling to focus on John’s eyes.

John tipped his head, grinning. Fair. “Yeah, well, the Student Union’s paying me a pittance to be,” he smiled. “What were those lads up to?”

“They’re from the same accommodation as me,” said Sherlock, pronouncing his words deliberately. “They found out I can…tell things about people. They wanted to know…” He took a laboured glance at John, and for the first time he looked a little flustered. “Which girls would be…receptive. And who is dealing drugs,” he added, biting his bottom lip.

John raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, well, I might be interested in knowing about that in a bit too,” he said wryly. “For now though – how many shots did they feed you?”

“Oh I don’t know,” sighed Sherlock expansively, flapping his hand. “What does it matter?”

John looked at him again, sharply. “Listen, no offence,” he said, “but are you eighteen?”

“Yes,” replied Sherlock sulkily. He fished in the pocket of his tight black jeans and forced his driving license into John’s hand. “Here.”

Sherlock Holmes. He was indeed eighteen. John handed it back to him. “Well, Sherlock Holmes,” he smiled, “you’re pretty wankered. Might be time to head home, or drink some water.”

“I see your saviour complex extends to busybodying as well as medical training,” rapped out Sherlock, eyes narrowed. “I’d’ve thought you’d be drinking with your rugby teammates, rather than nannying freshers. You obviously need money. There are more financially rewarding jobs you could be doing, even part time.”

John almost might not have thought Sherlock was drunk anymore, were it not for the fact that the boy stood up – already inches taller than John, although four years younger – and swayed dangerously on the spot for a few moments. John stared up at him, eyes wide. “You can tell things about people,” he said, calmly. “So, what? Someone filled you in about my course, my sport and how strapped for cash I am?”

Sherlock Holmes just smirked annoyingly, then took an unsteady step to the side, a drunken attempt at evasive measures. John pivoted on the spot to watch him walk away.

At the door, Brawny and Burly intercepted the tall, slim boy again. Brawny slung one muscled, sweaty arm around his neck. They’d obviously been watching for the opportunity. Sherlock didn’t look happy to see them; he twisted angrily and in vain.

John made a decision and strolled closer. “Alright Sherlock, let’s go,” he said firmly. “Enough, lads,” he hissed to the other two boys. “Find your own dealers.” Sherlock snarled as he shook off Brawny, pushing his way angrily out of the Union.

The night air was cold and crisp. John jogged out behind Sherlock, and touched him lightly on the arm. “Hey – alright?”

Sherlock turned with wobbly grace and pulled his arm out of John’s grasp. “Yes, fine,” he snapped. He lisped a little on the ‘yes’. His cheeks heated and he stared at the floor.

John sighed. “Those two–”

“I knew one of them at school. For a while.” Sherlock tipped his gaze up to the stars. “One of my schools,” he muttered. “We were not…friends.” The word comes out bitterly.

“Bad luck being in halls with them,” said John. “I’d say they don’t have your best interests at heart.”

Sherlock raised one eyebrow wryly and they both laughed, just a little. Their gazes tangled and John felt suddenly, intensely awkward.

“So – that stuff – my course, money, rugby, dealers…”

“Easy,” said Sherlock, rather smugly. “People see, but they do not observe.”

John watched him for a moment. “So what did you observe?”

“The dealers are easy to spot. Anyone with half a brain could pick them out from the way they frequent certain areas, move often, meet for short periods of time with a varied selection of people – unlikely all to be friends, given that people tend to cluster together in small, relatively unchanging groups. Unfortunately Travers and Morton do not have anything approaching half a brain to share, let alone each. You, however, were more interesting. You are clearly in need of money, since your clothes and shoes – though not outdated or shabby – are certainly well-worn and well-mended. Your jeans have been patched and sewn up, very neatly, in two separate places. Your shoes are clean and polished – quite rare in our age group – but I can see that the soles and heel have been mended by a professional. You have chosen to work during Freshers’ week, which would otherwise be a week of holiday for you, given that you are obviously a third-year medical student. Clearly, as previously mentioned, there are much more lucrative jobs you could carry out during the summer holidays, and I suspect that you gave up the final week of some higher-paying employment so that you could act as a Freshers’ leader. Obviously you see yourself as having a duty to the university and to new students – you are morally driven and like to think you can help people. How do I know you are pursuing a course in medicine? Your university ID badge, which as a Freshers’ leader you are required to wear on that ugly orange lanyard around your neck, proclaims the fact loudly. And for the rugby – the distinctive muscle development in your shoulders and thighs is impossible to mistake.” Sherlock took a deep breath, looked John straight in the eyes with a flash of triumph, then turned pink.

Huh. Thighs. So. John’s brain was parsing through the torrent of words he’d just heard. “Wow,” he said. “That was amazing.”

“Oh,” said Sherlock, and wobbled dangerously on his feet. He transferred his gaze from John’s left shoulder to the pavement.

“I forgot I had my badge on,” said John, digging his hands into his jeans pockets.

“Mmm,” said Sherlock.

“So are you studying…biology?” asked John. He regretted the words as they came out of his mouth. Somehow, Sherlock Holmes’s cheeks got even pinker.

“Chemistry,” mumbled Sherlock.

“Oh,” said John.

There was a pause.

“So you’ll be using the labs?” asked John.

“Yes,” said Sherlock, long dark eyelashes sweeping onto his flushed cheeks.

“Ah. Me too,” returned John. “So I might…see you there. Then.”

“I – yes,” said Sherlock. “It’s possible.” He attempted a nonchalant shrug.

John examined his own shoes. “OK. Good,” he said.

The pause felt terribly long, this time.

“So I–” said Sherlock.

“You should–” said John.

They tangled gazes, and each huffed a laugh.

“–think I’ll get back,” finished Sherlock.

“–get home safely,” added John.

“Right,” they both said.

They looked at each other for another long moment, and then Sherlock took a step back, and John shuffled a turn towards the Union. A couple more steps.

“You know,” said John, heart hammering, “I should take your number. So I can check. And in case I don’t.”


“See you. At the lab. I mean – so I can.”

Sherlock Holmes’s eyes were wide and green in the moonlight. John thought he might be choking on his own heartbeat. And then the boy held out a pale, long-fingered hand. John stared at it stupidly. “Phone,” said Sherlock, impatiently. But John saw his hand shaking, just a bit.

Their fingers brushed as he handed over his phone. Sherlock called himself from John’s mobile and passed it back.

They smiled, a little awkwardly, a little conspiratorially.

“See you around, Sherlock Holmes.”

“Goodnight, John Watson.”

Keep reading

@cxllen-rxtherfordas discussed.

The disagreement had started with words, and then escalated to angry words, and then the soldier stepped into her space. At a full two hands taller than her and at least that many wider with the mass to back it up, it was a cheap intimidation tactic to pull. Worse, it was working. She hated to be cornered, even against a fence that was only as high as the small of her back, which was just high enough to be in her way. He probably thought sending her for water was a simple matter, but she wasn’t a servant, and while ostensibly about a drink, it felt more like a demand that she submit. That she break and meekly do as she was bid, as so many others of her kind did. That made her angry more than his presence made her scared.

Ellana’s nerves skittered through her thoughts and under her skin like spiders made of lightning. He was too close and too tightly wound. She didn’t want to fight him. It was a battle she would lose if she didn’t kill him. Had they been in Kirkwall with its narrow streets, myriad hiding places and gates into the wild that would take her home, she would have run, and gladly.
But this wasn’t, and she couldn’t.

She ducked down and right, slipping under his arm and slamming the heel of her left hand into the inward curve of the backplate of his armor, just before it flared out to accommodate his hips. She used the force to spring herself several feet away as he staggered into the fence and swore about the ‘fucking knife-ear.’ She stepped away as he shoved himself upright and turned; his eyes were dark and his face flushed with anger and embarrassment. Maybe she’d made a mistake shoving him, but he shouldn’t have escalated if he couldn’t take it when someone pushed back. His attention flicked across the handful of people who had turned to watch, and she could see the decision in the set of his jaw. It read in the way he rolled his shoulders and the turn of his foot that telegraphed a charge.

anonymous asked:


This is part of The Excessively Detailed Headcanons prompt series that I asked you guys to send, then promptly went on holiday and didn’t respond to. Sorry!! Here’s is ‘What does their bedroom look like?’ 

Their bedroom (through the years) at Palmetto State: 

There’s always bottles of water by the bed, because Neil read an article about hydration and recovery times for sportsmen. He tries to drink a whole bottle the minute he wakes up but never manages, so he just abandons them.

Their bunk is a set up like a double, even though its only a single. Lets face it, one of them is five foot even and the other is only a few inches taller; they can fit in the bunk together just fine. So there’s two sets of pillows and a couple of blankets that merge into one big tangled mess by the morning - but that Andrew carefully rearranges once they are up, because a childhood in foster homes drilled that into him. There are exactly four things on the wall over their bed; one is a polaroid of the Foxes all collapsed on couches drinking, smoking, generally looking like a debauched college team; another is one of Nicky, Matt and Neil with their arms over each other’s shoulders at the end of a victorious game; the third is magazine clipping detailing the ‘triumphant rise’ of the Foxes; and the final one is a postcard, only containing the silhouette of a sitting cat with the words PISS OFF written underneath it.

On the bedside table, amongst the water bottles, are various phone chargers and cigarette packets. In the bedside drawer are the sorts of things they keep out of eyesight of Kevin, because that guy knows how to bitch and moan about ‘gay porn stuff going on in my own bedroom’.

They each have a separate desk, Andrew’s containing only the stack of requisite textbooks, notebooks and a hot chocolate mug. On the back of his chair is a 03 MINYARD sweatshirt and a pair of 10 JOSTEN track pants, and always a lone glove or sock or one of Neil’s bandana. Neil’s desk is messier, covered in any Exy gear he hasn’t been able to throw on Andrew’s desk or Kevin hasn’t picked up with disdain in his fist and waved in his direction. There’s paper and notebooks left open, and pens everywhere, and a few more half empty water bottles. There’s also a lot of photos of the Foxes, magazine articles and print outs of various Exy players, tactics and reports - Andrew calls it his Stalker Wall - that didn’t make the cut to be put by their bed.

Their bedroom in the apartment they eventually share is much the same. Except Andrew cleans up after his messy boyfriend, so there are a few less random socks and gloves scattered on the floor, and there are no textbooks or lecture notes. The double bed is pressed into a corner and Andrew has allowed some more decoration over it; more photos of the Foxes, their cats, more magazine articles, and the cat postcard right in the centre. They have a whole section of their wardrobe devoted to Exy gear, from their old teams and the one they end up in together, so there’s a real clash of colours in there. The water bottles stop appearing by the bed but there are a lot of coffee mugs. There are cat toys everywhere, because if Sir Fat Cat McCatterson demands his breakfast too early, Neil can roll over and grab one of his long stick toys with a feather on the end and dangle it sleepily over the edge of the bed to keep him entertained. There’s a piece of tinsel hanging in one corner that remains there for years, no matter the time of year, a leftover piece of decoration from when Nicky visited for Christmas and enthusiastically decorated everything. 

And of course there is cat hair. Everywhere.


Prompt: Head chef at the restaurant that makes their favourite meal in town

Words: 4888

Warnings: None that I’m aware of outside of SMUT.

Style/Type: Female Reader Insert

Main Character: Sam Winchester

Author’s Note: So, I cheated…I wrote a companion piece for Dean. I’m Dean trash, didn’t you know? But I didn’t want it to take the limelight away from Sam, so it’s also tagged GIEPP and it is titled G-Man, found on my blog. I’m still new at Tumblr, so I don’t know how to add the link to this page. Plus, I couldn’t upload it from my computer, I had to use my iPad, which sucks. But anyways, go search it out if you want to read it. I’ll upload it as soon as I finish fighting this one.

Without further ado, here is Sam and his saucy southern chef…

You blew out a breath. It was almost closing time and you were exhausted. When your mother had the bright idea to open a gourmet cheeseburger joint, you’d been more than a little surprised. When you realized she did it because she was dying and she wanted you to have a decent nest egg when she went, you sobbed like a baby for three days. But now, eight years later, “Avec Fromage” was a resounding success. You’d been featured on countless morning shows, the food network had done a spotlight on you, and you’d even been on an episode of Chopped, which you lost, but only because really? What the hell do you DO with beets for dessert besides use them as food coloring for ice cream?! It still burned your ass you’d lost that one. But Alton Brown liked you, and, hell, Alton was one cool cat. Even Guy Fieri liked you. So, when the order came in, ten minutes before closing, you growled out a breath as you read Crystal’s scribble. “One special, and one SALAD?!”

Crystal shrugged. “Yeah. Two dudes. Both of them are hot, even if they’re kind of old. I mean, I’d do them. Especially the shorter one. Yum.”

Crys was seventeen. She thought anyone over twenty five was old. “Salad? Seriously?! In MY restaurant?!”

“Here we go,” the sous chef muttered under her breath. “It IS on the menu, Y/N.”

“I don’t give a shit. You don’t order salads in a gourmet cheeseburger joint!!” you bellowed. “Not on my watch!” You crumpled up the paper in your hand and stalked out to the dining room toward the only table left occupied.

“I’m telling ya, Sammy,” you heard the stockier one say, “I can’t believe you ordered a damn salad, you freak. I heard this joint has the best burgers ever, even if I don’t know what the hell ‘Avec Fromage’ means.”

The taller of the two, Sammy, you guessed his name was, shot the other one what you could only call an 'epic bitch face’ as he said, “It means 'With Cheese’ in French, Dean. It’s tongue-in-cheek.”

Well, you could appreciate the fact he knew what it meant, even if he had crappy taste in meals. “'Scuse me, fellas. Which one of you ordered a damn salad in my establishment?”

The stockier one, Dean, pointed to the other guy. “Sam did. Personally, I’ve been dying to try your burgers since I saw you on Chopped. Said if we ever made it back to North Carolina, I was going to give this joint a go.”

Your eyes narrowed at the taller guy. He was gorgeous, you’d give him that. Long and lean, a long, tall, drink of water, your mama would have said. “So, you’re the problem. Seriously, you come HERE and order a SALAD?! Dude, we’re KNOWN for our BURGERS! Might as well go to Starbucks and order a lemonade!”

The other guy let out a chuckle. “I tried to tell him the same damn thing.”

The tall guy shrugged. “Yeah, sorry, I just like to eat healthier, you know? No offense, really.”

You put your hand on your hip. It was the same damn argument you’d been having for eight years. In the world of “healthier” and “vegan” you’d fought your fair share of fights against the critics. Also, you weren’t as skinny as all those supermodels that graced the covers of magazines, but you were healthy, damn it. “Are you sayin’ I ain’t healthy? My MAMA made this, place, made it just for me before she died of cancer, you douche. You sayin’ SHE wasn’t healthy?! I’ll have you know, my mama was as healthy as a damn horse until the cancer stole her from me. Do you have ANY idea how much fat is in the dressing on your precious SALAD?! Don’t EVEN get me started!”

Dean crossed his arms and smirked.

Sam just looked at you like you were crazy, and maybe you were, but you were passionate about your food. “Fine! Fine! Give me the damn cheeseburger!”

“Thank you!” you roared. “How would you like it cooked?”

“Will you bite my head off if I say well done?”

You shot him a glare and walked off muttering about how he needed more meat on his bones anyway. As you walked, you heard him whisper-yell, “Well, hell, now I kinda feel obliged to ask, is all this shit deep-fried in CRAZY?!”

You smirked. Hell yes, we’re all crazy, you thought. And I’d like to unleash that crazy on you as I strip you naked and cover you in… You blinked as you realized where your thoughts had taken you. You needed to get laid. Not many guys realized you didn’t want kids, didn’t want a relationship, just some nice, no strings attached sex. You’d always heard guys liked that, but so far, you hadn’t found any that weren’t clingy as all hell.

You walked back into the kitchen and your sous-chef smirked. “Get him straightened out, did you?”

You narrowed your eyes at her. “Just cook the damn meat.” You glanced at Crystal. “Go on home, shug. I’ll handle serving them.”

“You sure?

"Positive. I’ve got something special in mind for him.”

The two women just looked at you with wide eyes. You ignored them and began puttering around, getting everything ready and you constructed two of the most glorious looking cheeseburgers in existence along with your signature side. You hoisted the tray onto your shoulder and bussed your way out to the table. You presented the dish to Dean first, who looked like he would have chewed his own arm off to get to it, before you sat the plate in front of Sam.

“Here ya go,” you told him, laying your southern accent on all the thicker. “A gourmet cheeseburger featuring a thick slab of applewood smoked bacon, with baby spinach, white cheddar and sautéed mushrooms. Served with a side of my signature sweet potato fries and chocolate sea salt. It’ll make you slap yo mama….”

Dean took a huge bite and whimpered. “Marry me.”

You couldn’t help but giggle. He was a cutie, but you had a thing for tall, sweet fellas, and his friend fit the bill to a T, even if he did have shitty taste in meals. “Sorry, sugar. You’re not my type.”

He swallowed and smirked. “Why? You into chicks?”

That caused a belly laugh. The number of times you’d been called a lesbian, a shrew, a damn tease, well, you were used to it. “Nope. I like guys just fine. Just not your type. No offense.”

He shrugged. “None taken.”

You eyed Sam a moment, wishing he would just try the damn burger already. “It won’t bite, you know,” you chided softly.

He blinked and looked up at you, licking his lips, and that one action sent tingles straight to your clit and you had to resist the urge to shiver as your mouth went dry. “I, uh, I gotta go…uh, enjoy your meal,” you managed as you backed away and fled to the safety of the kitchen. Once there, you cursed yourself and your nerves. It had been a long time since you’d gotten any, and certainly nothing from the likes of him. You had the feeling, as he sized you up, he was the hunter and you were the prey.

You composed yourself, cursing the looks your favorite sous chef was giving you as she was cleaning up the kitchen. To keep costs down, the two of you usually cleaned the kitchen on Tuesday and Wednesday nights, which weren’t as crowded. You were close friends, so she didn’t mind helping you out.

“Want me to go check on them for you?” she offered, jarring you from thinking about his lips, imagining them on your body, working his way down from your neck, over your breasts, down you stomach, diving right into your…

“Y/N!” she called.

You blinked. “Huh?”

She smirked. “I suggest you go out there and fuck him good and proper.”

“What? No! I mean, surely he’s…”

“No ring,” she stated. At your look, she said, “What? I refilled their drinks earlier. And they’re not gay, because the shorter one looks like he wants me for dessert.”

You smirked at that. “You should go for it. I know your breakup with Sean was rough, but it was a year ago…”

She frowned. “This is about you, not me. I’m perfectly content with my little plastic friend and my rub reel. I mean, have you SEEN Chris Evans lately?! The things I’d like to do to Captain America. God bless the U.S.A. is all I gotta say…”

You giggled but then sobered. “Yeah, they’re, uh, probably ready for their bill.” You squared your shoulders and headed out the door.

“Maybe he’s ready for some Y/N on a platter for dessert!” she called behind you.

“I’m gonna kill her,” you muttered as you headed back toward their table. You had to gasp out a breath as you saw him licking his fingers. He was chuckling at something Dean had said and he had this little dimple that winked and there was mirth in his eyes and for a moment, the world just stopped. You cleared your throat and walked up to the table. “So? What did you think, Sam, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “Yeah, Sam. And it was awesome. I mean, seriously. Probably the best thing I’ve put in my mouth for a while.” Dean guffawed and Sam seemed to realize how that sounded because his cheeks pinked just slightly. At that moment, he looked like an adorable, if oversized, puppy. You loved dogs. You had three at home.

Dean was all smiles as he asked, “Hey, uh, we were wondering, what’s your dessert menu look like?”

Sam whispered through clenched teeth, “Dammit, Dean, STOP IT.”

So your wingman is helping you out, huh? I respect that. So you smiled and said, “We have a mouth-watering peach cobbler.”

Dean licked his lips. “You don’t say? Well, that happens to be my brother’s favorite,” he told you, earning a kick under the table from Sam.

Your eyebrow popped up as you looked at Sam. “Really?! Then you might as well go whole-hog, get it ala mode, what do you say?”

Sam chuckled nervously, “Uh, s-sounds great.”

“Great, I’ll bring it right out.”

As you walked away, you saw, out of the corner of your eye, Sam reach across the table and punch Dean in the shoulder. “OW! What the hell?! You should be thanking me. You WILL be, when you’re eating that cobbler off of her…”

“Will. You. SHUT UP! I came here for a meal, not a piece of ass!”

“And that, my friend, is your problem. She wants you, and you don’t even know it.”

“WHAT?! Dean, she nearly put a hit out on me for ordering a salad! How could you possibly have gotten anything else from that?!”

“Believe me, bro…I KNOW.”

“And how, Obi Wan, do you know that?!”

You could hear Dean’s smirk. “Because, I’ve had my fair of southern sweet tea. And you know what the T stands for?”

“Please. For the love of God. Stop.”

“That’s what SHE said…”

“Okay, I’m seriously losing my appetite here, Dean, you done?”

You heard Dean mutter, “Fine, be a prude.”

Your eyes were wide as saucers as you breached the kitchen.


You shook your head. “I, uh…I think he’s interested.”

“So? Go for it! You’re not shy like I am. Go get you that long tall drink of water! Did he want dessert?”

“P-Peach cobbler.”

She nodded and went about heating up a serving. It was your grandma’s recipe and it was delicious. Fat filled and laden with calories. You couldn’t believe it was his favorite. Maybe he liked to indulge every once in a while. You’d like to indulge in him…

“Y/N? Here ya go.”

“Ala mode,” you croaked.

She smirked and went to get the vanilla bean ice cream. She returned with the cobbler and handed it to you. “You can say no,” she told you. “But you’ll regret it if you don’t go through with it. I know you.”

She was right. You were almost regretting walking away from him and you hadn’t even done it yet. Your mind made up, you took the dish away from her and marched yourself right over to Sam and all but sang, “Here you go!” as you placed the steaming plate in front of Sam.

“Thanks, this looks…great, really.” He was about to put a bite in his mouth when you told him, “You know, we accept all kinds of gratuities.” Sam stopped cold as you leaned in and whispered what you’d like to do with him and that cobbler. And it was oh so inventive.

You glanced at Dean, who was trying desperately to hear what you were whispering in Sam’s ear but it was too low. He couldn’t hear it. But you felt sure he figured it out as Sam blushed and dropped his fork.

You straightened and shrugged a shoulder. “The choice is yours, sugar.” You glanced at Dean and winked. “Y'all have a good night,” you purred before you sauntered away. You went to take off your apron, your toque, and grabbed your purse, glancing at the pair of men out of the corner of your eye.

Dean looked at Sam, who appeared to be in complete shock. “Sam? SAM!” Snapping his fingers in Sam’s face, he brought the other man out of his stupor. “Dude, what’d she say to you?”

Sam looked at Dean, then swallowed hard. “She, uh, she said…” He looked down at the cobbler, then looked back up at Dean. “She wants me to, uhm…” He looked down at his plate again before snatching it up as he all but jumped from the table, heading in your direction, muttering, “I gotta go. See ya, Dean.”

“Wear a condom!” Dean shouted after him, laughing.

You let out a giggle as Sam suddenly appeared in your face. “Are we…?”

You smiled and took his hand. “Let’s go, sugar. I swear, I’ll work that cheeseburger off of you before the night is out.” You led him out to your car; a nice, large sports car because you liked speed, but you also liked taking your friends out to party on occasion.

He collapsed into your passenger seat, precariously balancing the cobbler in his lap, covering his erection. You licked your lips hungrily. “You ready for a ride, sweetheart?”

He grinned. “Call me old fashioned, but do you have a name?”

You laughed out loud. “Y/N. It’s Y/N.”

“Beautiful. Just like you.”

You gunned the engine and tore ass toward your apartment. “Hope you like dogs. I’ve got three and they’ll have to sniff all over before…” You cleared your throat. “Well, they’ll have to give you the once over.”

He beamed brightly. “I love dogs.”

“Good. Listen, I gotta tell you, I don’t do relationships, okay? I got my dogs and my business, and…”

He nodded. “My brother and I, we travel a lot with our job. Matter of fact, we’re based out of Kansas.”

“Cool. You ever met Dorothy?” You snorted at your little joke.

To your surprise, he sobered. “Yeah. I’ve met her.”

Your eyebrow rose, but figuring he had an ex named Dorothy, you let that one slide. Everyone had a crazy ex. Yours was named Godfrey, and he was a megadouche.

“So, I don’t do this often,” he admitted.

You smiled. “Yeah, me either.”

“You live close by?” he wondered.

You simply nodded as you pulled into the parking garage. “I usually walk but it was raining this morning.” You got out and led him to the elevator. Now that you had him here, your nerves were getting the better of you.

“Y/N, it’s okay, we don’t have to…”

You smiled at him and felt something stir in you as the doors closed. He was a decent guy. That was rare. “I’m good. Come on. You should meet Oscar, Octavia, and Olivia.”

“You got a thing for O names?”

You chuckled. “Oscar is mine, Octavia was my moms, and my niece found and named Olivia. Apparently there’s some pig cartoon with the same name. It’s obnoxious as fuck.”

He let out a belly laugh and followed you to down the hall to your place. He cocked his head to the side. “Are you sure you have dogs?”

You nodded. “They’re very well trained.” You unlocked the door, took the cobbler from him, and sure enough, three wagging tails of various sizes greeted you. To your surprise, he knelt down and started giving the dogs love. “Hey, guys. Hi. I’m Sam.”

Of course, the dogs loved the attention and were all over him. He let out a laugh and landed on his butt, causing you to snap a picture with your phone. You’d managed to bring home a gorgeous guy that loved dogs, was it Christmas?

“Sam, uh…” you began.

“Oh! Sorry, Y/N. I just got distracted…”

“So I see,” you stated in amusement. “You know, if you wanted, we don’t have to…”

You trailed off as that white hot heat lit his eyes. “I want you, Y/N. Now.”

You shivered slightly at the tone of his voice and your mouth went dry. All thoughts of the dogs were forgotten as he stood and began to stalk you. “Bedroom,” he commanded and you slowly led the way, walking backward, down the hall, toward your room. You vaguely remembered sitting down the cobbler somewhere along the way…

He reached out with those huge hands and grabbed you, one hand going to your face, the other, to your hip, which he squeezed. “Fuck, Y/N,” he growled as he shoved you into the wall, kissing you for all he was worth. His tongue slid against your lips, begging entrance, and you eagerly acquiesced, moaning as his tongue battled yours.

You reached your hands up into his gorgeous hair, tugging slightly, and he moaned as his hands continued their exploration of your body until they found the button on your black pants. He unfastened them and you felt them pool at your feet and you stepped out of them, toeing off your sensible shoes as you went. You gave a little shove and you switched positions. You didn’t mind being the aggressor on occasion, and he seemed eager enough to let you run the show. For now. You had the feeling he’d be back in control before the night was over.

You pushed his jacket off his shoulders and it joined your pants, then you started unbuttoning those little white buttons on his dress shirt, one by one as he did the same thing on your blouse. Once you had his top half naked, you noticed an odd tattoo on his left pec. You pulled away and traced it lightly with your finger, following the shape of the star. “You’re not into devil worship, are you?” you couldn’t help but to ask. You weren’t worried. He was a big guy, but Oscar was a pit bull. You’d trained him. He was super sweet with your niece and nephew, but if you were in danger, you’d be burying this guy’s body in the back yard because Oscar would kill him.

Sam laughed. “No. Hate the guy personally.” You gave him an odd look and he smiled. “I swear. It’s…kind of like a family thing. My brother has one, too.”

Your eyebrow shot up. “You in the mob or something?”

Again he laughed and pulled you toward the bed. “Come here. I won’t hurt you, I swear.”

“Good. Because if you try, Oscar will kill you and Octavia will eat your bones.”

“What will Olivia do?”

“She’s a chihuahua mix. She just pees.”

He laughed one more time and sat on the bed, pulling you into his lap. You straddled him and he pushed your shirt from your shoulders. “My god, you’re beautiful.”

You couldn’t help the blush. While you knew you were decent looking, you knew, too, you weren’t a skinny underwear model, either. You had curves. Lots of them. You liked to eat, but you were still very healthy. You dragged your ass to the damn gym every day and took the dogs for a run at the park a few times a week. “So are you,” you murmured.

He smiled and picked you up like you weighed nothing, turning to toss you onto the bed. His body covered yours before you got a breath out. “Fuck, Sam!” you panted as his teeth were suddenly everywhere and you knew you’d have bruises all over your body the next morning, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. “Yesssss,” you hissed as he latched onto your nipple through your bra.

He sat up and you unfastened his pants before you took him, hard and ready, in your hand. You pumped him a few times and watched him as his jaw clenched and his eyes rolled back in his head. “Fuck. I need you, Y/N,” he growled.

“Nightstand drawer,” you instructed and he reached that long arm over to open the drawer for the condom.

His hand rooted around in the drawer and he smirked as he pulled out your vibrator. It was a big, flesh colored, accurate enough looking dildo. His eyebrow shot up. “And just what do you do with this?”

You crossed your arms over your still-bra-clad breasts. “If you don’t know, then clearly you aren’t as experienced as I thought.”

He chucked as he sat back on his heels and handed you the plastic phallus. “Show me.”

“Oh! Well, uh…” That was new.

He stood and went to sit in the easy chair across the room. “Show me,” he commanded as he took his cock in his hand, fisting it lightly.

“You want to watch?”

“Consider this foreplay. I plan on being here a while,” he told you.

Your mouth went dry as your heart raced. You had the distinct impression you were going to be dog tired in the morning. And you didn’t mind it one damn bit.

You swallowed and slipped out of your bra and panties, glad you’d worn a matching set, and grabbed the toy. You knew you were wet enough, you sure as hell didn’t need any lubrication, but you couldn’t help yourself as you grabbed the peach flavored lube. You put a bit on the toy and rubbed it around yourself, teasing your clit before plunging it in. You moaned at the sudden sensation of being filled and you chanced a glance at him. He was watching you with hooded eyes.

You thrust it in and out, in and out, a few times, before you removed it. He opened his mouth to say something when you grabbed the toy and eagerly sucked it into your mouth.

He let out a whimper and you saw him pumping himself faster.

You’d always enjoyed giving head, so you had no problem sucking on the toy, but it did get you even more hot and bothered and you couldn’t seem to help yourself as your other hand began toying with your clit, rubbing two fingers in and out of your slit. You felt your orgasm approaching now. It never took you long to get yourself off. You were almost there when you felt three things simultaneously; the bed dipped, he pulled your hand away from your clit, and the toy out of your mouth.

“Dirty girl,” he growled. “What do you like?”

There was a challenge in your eyes as you stated, “Anything you’ll give me.”

His eyebrow shot up, but you could see it was paining him to feign indifference as his cock rubbed against your thigh. “Is that so? Anything.”

You nodded. There wasn’t much you hadn’t tried, and you enjoyed most of it.

“So…if I were to take this,” he stated as he picked up the forgotten dildo, “and shove it up your ass, you’d be okay with it?”

“As long as you prepared me. I’m not big on pain.”

He smirked. “Maybe next time. For now,” he murmured as he ripped open the condom packet, “I want to fuck you as you suck on my tongue. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” you panted in eagerness. “Please,” you added, almost in pain. You needed him in you. Now.

You watched, dry mouthed once more, as he slipped the condom down his length and you whimpered at the sight. He was beyond beautiful, all long and lean from head to toe. He was easily the best looking guy you’d ever had sex with and you thanked whatever deity that would listen that you had him for tonight.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, his long body covered yours. His huge hands fisted your breasts and you felt his head teasing your clit. “Please,” you whined. “I need…”

“This?!” He thrust, sheathing himself in you and you came immediately, crying out as the sensations battered you.

“Holy fuck,” you muttered as he began moving and you wrapped your legs around his waist.

He kissed you, long and languid as he gently moved within you, building you back up before his tongue began thrusting in time with his cock and you could do nothing but hold on and accept him as he took you up and over once more and you eagerly sucked as hard as you could.

He pulled away just slightly and he had almost an evil glint in his eye as he turned you to your stomach and commanded you up on all fours. He licked the shell of your ear and whispered, “Hold on,” as he moved your hands to the wrought iron headboard.

You braced yourself as he violently plunged back into you and you felt the quickening begin again.

His hands pawed your breasts roughly and he squeezed your nipples until you gasped out a breath at the pleasure/pain sensation. Your head dropped back and you felt his hand now massaging your scalp, pulling your hair just slightly as his other hand dove for your clit, those huge fingers teasing you until you felt like you were going to explode.

There was no sounds in the room save for both of your breathing and the wet slap of skin as he pistoned in and out of you. You felt it building, the release was coming and you began moaning as it started.

“Scream,” he commanded in your ear. “I wanna hear you scream my name.”

That was all it took. “Sam!” you screamed long and loud as the sensations battered you.

You felt him relax behind you and begin placing feather light kisses to your neck as his hands reached to unclench yours from the headboard, his fingers now massaging yours. You didn’t realize you’d been gripping the headboard so hard, your fingers had lost all sensation. You were boneless as he moved you and got you comfortable on the bed and you gave him a sleepy smile as he went to find the bathroom to dispose of the condom.

You watched as he got dressed and opened the door, letting the dogs in. You didn’t realize how late it was. Or how early, rather. The sun would be coming up soon.

The dogs knew what to do. They all walked in and sat patiently on the rug, awaiting your instructions to get on the bed or sleep on the floor.

He came back to the bed and handed you a card. FBI. You shouldn’t have been surprised. “Agent M. McCready? ”

“Sam is my middle name. It’s the one I go by.”

You smiled at that. “M. McCready, Mike? Like Pearl Jam?”

“Kind of.”

“They’re my favorite.”

“Mine too.” He looked down at his shoes before his hazel eyes pierced your y/e/c ones. “So, uh, listen, I had a great time tonight. You think next time I’m around…?”

You smiled as you leaned up to kiss him gently on the lips. “You’d better bring your sexy ass back to see me. I’ll give your brother a burger on the house. And, hell, if you want a salad next time, I’ll make you one.”

He chuckled and winked a dimple at you. “Nah, I think I’ll stick with the cheeseburger. You do have a way with meat.”

Your mouth fell open and you swatted his ass. “See you around, Agent.”

He gave you a wink and turned to leave before he turned back. “Damn. We didn’t get to eat the peach cobbler.”

“Maybe next time.”

He smirked. “You know, I could eat a peach for hours.”

You shivered at the implication. “Of that, I have no doubts.”

He stalked back to you once more, a cocky smirk on his face. “If I were to let you suck my tongue, would you be grateful?”

How in the hell did he know the movie, Face/Off was one of your guilty pleasures? You bit your lip as you tried not to smile. “Careful, Castor. I’m not just another of your conquests.”

He grabbed you and kissed you one last time. “Yes you are. I’ll see you around, peach,” he murmured as he walked out, giving the dogs a quick rub on the head before he left.

You blew out a breath, already hoping he came back this way soon.


It was a good few months later, you were busy working on a new creation when one of the new girls came into the kitchen. “Boss? Some guy is out there looking for you. Says his name is Castor Troy. Said he’s come to collect some peaches?”

You dropped the spatula to the floor as you ran out of the kitchen. There he stood in all his six foot five inch glory. You stopped dead for a half a beat before you ran to him and jumped on him in front of everyone, making him laugh hysterically.