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cowboy-anon · 3 years

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It’s a long one, lads, but here’s the ✨ super special whump ✨ I promised! The reason? It’s the amazing @unicornscotty‘s birthday!! (Make sure to wish them a happy birthday! :D ) Happy birthday to one of the first friends I made here on Tumblr. <3 What am I doing to celebrate? Posting a Pirate Whump fanfic (OG story by @unicornscotty, hence it being the present)!!!

!!! Note: You don’t need to read the story to understand this fic, but once you’re finished with this, you ought to if you like pirate whump!

Super amazing story idea courtesy of @milk-carton-whump. Then I made it an AU because rivalry, am I right? Canonically, these two get along pretty well, but a prince and a pirate on the same ship? There’s bound to be some bad blood. Then, of course, a sprinkling of enemies to lovers because why the heck not! :)

Truth be told, I don’t know if it’s whumpy enough. That being said, I’ve been especially bloodthirsty lately, so there probably is enough whump XD. Hope you guys like it!

CW: Accidental self-harm (biting tongue), alcohol mention, bodily fluids (drool and blood), cuts, death mention (in passing), derogatory language towards the classes (monarchs and pirates), hitting, implied murder (but what do you expect with pirates, y’know?), lots of salt and sarcasm, pirate whump, stitches mention, spartan kick, swearing, swords against throats, sword fighting (!!!)

Now, without further ado:

ENEMIES TO LOVERS SLOWBURN AU - ONLY YOU NEVER GET TO SEE THE END >:))))

Alternatively:

Prince v. Pirate

Augustus calls them “scum” one too many times today. Luckily, Alex knows just how to push his buttons back.

They stare into the murky bucket of mop water by the mast, full and swirling with the grayish tendrils of dirty soap and muck from the ship’s wooden floorboards. Alex can feel Augustus’ presence by the bow of the ship. He takes up far more space than Alex realized when the two of them first boarded this boat.

But that’s... perfect, they think slyly. Someone who casts such a long shadow surely has that much more to lose.

“When we first met,” Alex calls suddenly, fighting the amusement in their voice, “you didn’t kill me. I doubt your father will be very pleased to hear that.” They laugh and give the mop another soapy swipe across the deck. Alex looks over their shoulder with a devilish grin. “A prince saving a pirate. A prince too weak to finish them off. I may be scum, but at least I’m not a coward.”

Alex’s grin only grows when they hear the stomp of Augustus’ approaching boots coming down the stairs behind them. “Careful, Gus,” they jive. “That day was a fluke. Mind you, if we do this again, your inexperience will be your downfall.” Alex spins on their heel and laughs at what they see: The prince wielding his sword, carrying himself in a learned but clearly off-centered defensive position. “Very well. I could give you some pointers if you’d like.”

“Pointers?” Augustus scoffs and moves in closer to Alex, sword low to the ground and too tight in his grip. He crosses his feet when he moves, too, Alex notes. All classic mistakes.

“The kingdom’s best sword fighters have been training me since I could walk,” Augustus continues lowly. “ I spar as one of the best in the kingdom. Don’t overestimate your prowess, pirate.”

Alex laughs. “You think sparring is anything like combat?”

“Sparring is combat,” Augustus spits back. “And as far as I can tell, your sword isn’t even drawn. Does that not invalidate all of the claims you’ve made so far as to your knowledge on the matter?” He gestures at Alex with his sword. “One of the first rules, be prepared.”

“Oh, not at all, Gus.” Without warning, Alex takes the mop in hand and swings it at Augustus’ exposed shoulder with a wet crack.

Augustus’ hold on his sword falters when his right hand instantly moves for his injured shoulder.

“First rule, gain the power in the situation.” Alex unsheathes the sword at their hip and holds it out, at the ready, gripped comfortably between their hands. The correct way, they mentally boast.

“You know,” Alex says, motioning with their sword, “if you’d held your blade a little higher and led with your chest, you would’ve been able to block that blow with ease. But what would I know?” Alex runs their thumb over the engraved hilt of their sword, etched with tallies. Ten to be exact. Ten men. Ten dead men. “I’m certainly not a seasoned fighter, not like the beloved prince.”

Alex’s eyes fall back on the prince, still nursing his shoulder with gritted teeth—at least, that’s what he wants them to believe. Alex catches the way his fingers curl around the handle of his sword with newfound determination, the flicker of mischief that crosses his downturned face.

If only he knew who he was dealing with.

Augustus lunges, sharp and quick, favoring his right shoulder but still far faster than Alex expects. But they are expecting it.

Alex drives their sword forward at an angle, and Augustus misses his mark by a good three inches. It was such a simple maneuver, such a simple counter.

“Now you’ve done it,” Augustus growls.

Alex rolls their eyes. “Hasn’t anyone told you good sword fighting comes with a clear mind?”

Augustus doesn’t hesitate with the overhead arc. Alex brings their sword up in a quick parry and forces Augustus’ sword to the left. “Don’t lock your elbows,” Alex quips, coming in with a left cut that Augustus barely avoids. “And never use that move unless your opponent is incredibly vulnerable.”

“Shut up!” Augustus swings his sword hard at Alex’s right side. “I don’t need advice from a pirate!”

Alex notes his breathlessness as they match his swing from the left. The swords collide, loud and dangerous. But Augustus breaks it up before it becomes a battle of strength.

Augustus goes for the arc again. Alex slips to the right and his sword hits the wood with a hollow thunk.

In the time it takes Augustus to get back in position, Alex has their sword at his throat, not quite touching but threatening nonetheless. “What did I say?” Alex purrs, moving in closer. “If your opponent isn’t vulnerable, you are, plain and simple.”

Augustus’s sword crashes into Alex’s, swiping it away from his neck. The motion shocks Alex and stopping the momentum pulls at their back uncomfortably. They barely manage to get their feet underneath them in time to block yet another attack from above with their sword.

Augustus wipes the sweat from his brow when the two part, watching Alex scramble towards the bow of the ship to compose themself. The smirk on his face is undeniable. “Vulnerable enough for you?”

“You’re vulnerable,” Alex snaps back, chest heaving, “and predictable.”

Augustus snarls, taking it upon himself to make the first move once again. Alex sighs but takes their sword to the ready position.

“I’m surprised you’re fighting so fairly,” Augustus muses, advancing on the pirate.

Alex takes a step back and startles when their boot connects with one of the stairs at the end of the deck. They need to move, that much they know, but for now they focus on the princely pain in the ass in front of them.

“Is that so?” Alex steps back onto the staircase, one step, then another, sword extended in front of them. “What does fair mean to you monarchs?”

Augustus’ expression sours as he begins ascending the stairs after them. “All sword, all skill. True combat. Noble combat.”

“‘Noble combat,’ hmm?” Alex reaches the top of the stairs and stops. “You mean as noble as oppression can be, don’t you?”

Augustus smiles, taking another step. “I mean as noble as a piliger who follows it can be.”

Alex nods, feigning understanding. “If I could make one note,” they start.

Augustus glares at them.

“Fighting fair gets you killed.” Alex pulls their sword to the right, and with Augustus’ sword so low, Alex has a clear view of his abdomen. “And playing dirty? Well…” Alex sets their feet. “Pretty par for the course.”

The kick Alex delivers to his stomach is solid. Augustus manages to keep a hold of his sword on the way down, but he hits the ground hard, and the moan that leaves his lips is wretched. Well-deserved but still wretched.

Alex clambers down the stairs and back onto the deck, equally impressed, amused, and horrified to see Augustus getting up so quickly. Augustus keeps one hand on his sword and the other on his stomach, and for a brief moment Alex considers kicking him until he stays down.

By the time Alex decides that’s exactly what they’re going to do, Augustus is on his feet with more fire in his gorgeous blue eyes than Alex’s seen since they started fighting.

This isn’t going to end well.

Augustus straightens and rolls his shoulder with a grimace. “I did say I spar as one of the best, pirate. Part of that is being able to get back up.”

Augustus comes in strong with a ruthless swing to Alex’s right side. Alex brings their sword up and out for a block, and although they don’t end up cut in half, their shoulders ache, then burn with a deep familiar pain. Still predictable, they note, wincing. Thank goodness for that.

Alex isn’t so lucky the next time. Another swipe, fast and aggressive, flies towards their face. Alex sidesteps but trips over their own feet. They’re quick but not quick enough.

They feel it, the sharp sting of sweat mingling with an open wound. Alex brings their fingers to their face and prods gently at where they think the cut is. When they bring them back to look at them, they’re covered in blood, superficial but maddening all the same.

Alex grins, glaring through rich brown curls as they click their tongue. “You’re persistent. I like that. But it does seem like someone needs to work on their timing.”

Alex lunges forward, faking with no spared conviction that they’re going in for a jab and instead plant their foot on the toe of Augustus’ boot. With a spin that’s just as practical as it is for show, they slam their elbow into his jaw. “Like so!”

On their way back to the mast, arm alight with near-paralyzing pins and needles, they catch a glimpse of the trail of blood oozing from Augustus’s lip. He bit his own tongue it seems. Poetic almost.

“Fighting dirty, are we?” Augustus brings his hand under his chin and catches the blood and drool in his palm. “You know, any other time, your kind would be hung for this. But I must admit I’m enjoying this.”

Augustus tosses his handful of fluids across the freshly-mopped deck, more blood than anything else, and wipes his hand on his pants before returning his bloody grip to the sword’s hilt. “Now then. Let’s continue, shall we, pirate?”

Alex bristles at the way Augustus spits it this time, pirate, like it’s poison. At this point, Alex thinks skewering him might not be a bad idea.

But no, that won’t be satisfying, not for the likes of him. Alex wants to humiliate him. They want to win. And all winning requires is submission. That and a little salt in the wound.

“You might want to reconsider, Gus,” Alex says. Their stance is defensive but comfortable, balancing on the balls of their feet just in case Augustus tries to make a move. “It is quite cowardly to submit to a pirate, but if the king knew what I planned on doing to you, I think he’d understand.”

Augustus scoffs. “Meaning?”

“Meaning I sincerely hope you don’t. I’m sure a missing arm would be quite the message to bring back to your fair kingdom.”

Augustus lunges in for a jab, all rage and false-assured thoughtfulness just like Alex expects him to. All it takes is a slip to the side and an outstretched leg to send them stumbling past them, fighting to regain his balance.

“What did I say?” Alex goads at Augustus’ back. “Vulnerable and so, so predictable. Switch up your moves and it won’t be so embarrassingly easy to send you reeling.”

Alex doesn’t even see the side swipe coming, but they most certainly feel the slice across their abdomen. “Fuck!” It’s heat, raw and burning, but it’s not pain, not yet, not with the blood roaring in their ears. They swallow their blooming panic in time to meet Augustus’ next blow, weaker than the rest have been, with equal ferocity.

There’s the shriek of metal against metal, invigorating at any other time, and the swords catch on each other at the hilt—the battle of strength and dexterity Alex was waiting for. Will Augustus break it off again?

Alex meets his eyes through their interlocked swords, brown on blue. No, he won’t break it off, not this time. The wolfish grin hiding the twisted agony behind his eyes says it all. That, and the trembling grip Alex has on their own sword.

“You look unwell, Alex.” Augustus pushes harder against Alex’s block and laughs windedly. “You may want to consider submission.”

Alex pants and grits their teeth. “And let you miss out on a… a valuable lesson? That’d be awfully rude of me.” They push back. “Besides, I could ask you the same thing. How’s that shoulder of yours?”

Alex breaks away and feels the first stab of agony rip through their middle, hard enough that when they swing in retort, their sword almost flies from their unfeeling hands.

“Keep it together,” they whisper, reclaiming their hold on the sword. Then, to Augustus, “If you’d broken the hold purposely, you could’ve reestablished your power in the situation, you know.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Augustus says lowly. Alex notes the cryptic tone in his voice but not fast enough. Without another word, he charges Alex, sword held higher, chest out strong, back straight because of it.

Alex anticipates the collision and holds their sword at the ready, stepping back towards the mast in preparation for the inevitable block. What they don’t expect is the way Augustus’ foot hooks around their own.

Alex’s feet fly out from under them, and this time they’re the one who’s stumbling. In their search for ground, they go blind to everything around them until their back collides with the mast of the ship.

When the space around them registers again, Augustus is right in front of them and his blade puts a threatening pressure against their neck. His breath is hot and wet against their face. Under their chin, they feel the faintest trickle of sweat or, more likely, blood running down their Adam’s apple.

Checkmate.

Augustus stares into Alex’s eyes, still out of breath but gradually recovering. “How about that?” he breathes.

Alex stares back and chuckles softly, then groans at another stab of pain in their stomach as the adrenaline starts to wear off. “Not bad, Prince. Legs further apart though. You’re screwing your balance.” Alex dips their hands between themself and Augustus, careful not to nick themself with the sword at their throat, and touches at the tear in their shirt, feeling around for damage. It’s nothing rum and a few dozen stitches won’t fix.

Augustus follows the movement with his eyes, then raises them back to Alex’s face. “Anything else you want to teach me?”

Alex grins. In one swift movement, they drop their sword, tear the arm holding the sword to their neck away from them, and pull that same arm behind Augustus’ back, shoving him hard into the mast. “Yeah,” they say above his surprised grunt. “Never lose focus.”

Alex gives Augustus’ arm a final rough pull, their chest against his back before pulling away with a huff. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need a drink.”

Alex walks across the deck to the sailor’s quarters. They hope Augustus can’t see that their body is on fire.

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pettyprocrastination · 3 years

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Dinner for Three

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x Valerie Lord x Black!Fem!Reader

OneShot: This is just a non-canon fic! This is basically placed AFTER the timelines of this fic, just a fun little side ficlet surrounding you and the lords after yall get together in celebration of Valentines day!

*If you want to read the rest of the fic so far here's a link to my masterlist where you can find Rip Out Our Seams & Stitch Us Together*

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: profanity, some groping going on and kissing. That's about it! Fluff and talking of self-worth.

Summary: It's Valentine's Day, you decide to treat Valerie to a nice homecooked dinner, Maxwell joins you when he returns home from work.

If the formatting is fucked im sorry tumblr fucked this like three times today im just trying to get it POSTED for you all.

Tag List: @captainsamwlsn @themarcusmoreno @cinewhore @thesadvampire @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @readsalot73 @holographic-carmen @honestlystop @thecrimsonsquire @phoenixhalliwell @that-chick212 @phantomnae @goldafterglow

If I forgot to tag you I'm so sorry please let me know!

Notes: BIG thank you to @ficsilike-reblogged who bought me a kofi! I know i was meant to do asomething shorter but i couldn't help myself! Also my usual big thanks for the ever lovely @teaofpeach for editing for me you are an absolute treat my dear ily <3

(i coudn't find any good lasagna gifs the TRAGEDY)

“What in God’s name are you wearing?”

You turned around at the shocked voice to see Valerie standing in the kitchen doorway, red painted lips dropped open.

You grinned and planted your hands on your hips with pride. “My Valentine’s Day outfit! You don’t like it?”

Her face fell flat as she looked you up and down; the main culprit of her disdain was the shirt you wore, buttoned neatly and covered in hearts. “Hon, you look like a cartoon character.”

You wiggled your brows. “A sexy cartoon character?”

“Remind me again why I love you?”

Hearing the word ‘love’ from Valerie Lord would never not send your heart into a frenzy. It had been months since the gala, since they had told you about their feelings with courage brought on my champagne and their own confessions to one another.

They finally had each other, why couldn't they have you as well?

Of course, that didn’t mean there wasn’t a… learning curve. When it came to the relationship, Valerie was bad at sharing her feelings. Sure, she’d say when she didn’t like somebody, or when she thought certain food tasted bad or when Maxwell’s new cologne smelled like rat shit. But she wouldn’t tell you when she was sad, insecure or felt like she wasn’t enough for the both of you.

Maxwell was too concerned with the outer view of the relationship, as he had been with Valerie since they got married. It was suspicious of course, for him to be seen leaving with a “mystery woman” without his wife around, so he took certain precautions. When out and about, he would take too much time fretting over the cameras and questions than you.

These precautions nearly cost them your relationship, their sweet girl who brought them together and showed them love and care and made them realize while they couldn't live without each other, they couldn’t live without you as well.

But now, they knew this. That you weren’t a fling who could be replaced. Your nimble fingers had stitched their beating hearts back together with a golden thread they wouldn’t dare untie from your own.

You turned away from the heiress and back to the stove as you stirred the red sauce in front of you.

“As abhorrent as that shirt is-” Her voice purred in your ear as her arms slid around your waist and pulled your back flush against her- “I love you in those jeans.”

You chuckled and kept your eyes on the task at hand as you slowly stirred. “As much of a compliment that is, Mrs. Lord, why don’t you keep those hands to yourself until I put this on the stove, alright?”

She hummed, contemplative before pressing her lips to the crook of your neck. “So mean to me baby.”

Her hands toyed with your belt loop, a painted nail hooking your shirt and slowly sliding it out from where it was tucked.

You sucked in a sharp breath. “Valerie.”

“What? Can’t I show my pretty baby some love on Valentines day?”

“Not while I’m cooking on a hot stove, little-miss-gropey.” A quick slap to her wrist with the wooden spoon made her yelp and yank her hands away from you.

“Bitch!”

You turned and pursed your lips. “Aww, poor baby, want me to kiss it better?”

She grumbled under her breath, taking in the splattered food on her wrist from the spoon before swiping her finger through it and bringing it to her mouth.

“Maybe you can kiss my ass instea- Oh, damn that’s good.”

Her eyes widened and you couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of such a high and mighty woman licking the back of her hand.

“Is that-”

“Basil?” She hummed at the taste. “I’m glad you enjoy it. It’s my father’s recipe.”

Valerie watched you as you cooked. Methodically adding each ingredient while humming along to the radio and swaying from side to side.

“You don’t talk about him much.”

Valerie knew you were different than her and Maxwell. Your childhood wasn’t full of flashing cameras, propping questions, and hiding tears behind fake smiles to reporters. When your father was brought up in conversation, you didn’t bristle or change the subject. You would smile.

She wasn’t jealous of that joy. That love you had from your family. She’s grateful for it, that amongst the struggles you had, there was also support and happiness.

“He doesn’t come up in conversation often.” Valerie’s hands once more wrapped around your waist, but simply settled at your hips. Her body was flush with your own and she let her head rest on your shoulder, gently swaying with you as you continued to cook.

“Tell me about him.”

She saw the small smile that graced your lips, mourning and grateful all at once as you spoke of him.

“He used to say that as people, we’re a collection of those around us. The ones we’ve loved. All their little mannerisms and tics become a part of who we are. And that we do the same for other people who love us.”

As you slowly set the pasta onto the bottom of the pan and began to layer the sauce, she wondered who you were an amalgamation of. Was the way you tilted your head back as you laughed from an old flame?

Was the way you sang and shook your hips from a best friend when you were young, who you wished had been more?

Were the soft kisses you press to the tip of their noses something given to you? Or an act of love learned by watching your parents?

Did you have anything of hers? Of Max’s?

Did they have anything of yours?

“I see it in you and Max, yanno.” You stepped back to open the oven and settle the pan on the top rack before shutting it. “You both do a lil’ nose scrunch when you get angry.”

“What?” She drew back from your body, unintentionally wrinkling her nose in the process. “We do not.”

You pulled her close to your body again. Your arms settled around her waist as you slowly moved side to side. You hummed along to the smooth voice of Grover Washington Jr. that danced from the radio and filled the large kitchen, empty except for the two of you.

“Sure do. You're also both very boujee-”

“Hey.”

“A touch temperamental-”

“I’ll give you that one but-"

“As well as emotionally constipated-”

“Excuse me?”

“And yet-” You hummed, letting your head drop forward to rest against hers, nose bumping against hers in a gentle caress- “I can’t help but love you both every damn day.”

Her blue eyes widened, before she groaned and shoved her face into your shirt.

“You fucking sap.” She lifted her head to yours and kissed you. The melody curled around you as she wrapped her arms around your neck and tugged you flush against her. A soft moan broke from her lips as you ran your hands over the plush skin of her ass.

You pulled away long enough to press a kiss to the tip of her nose, giggling when her face scrunched up in response. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Val."

Valerie Lord never thought she’d have this. This love and security. The ability to smile and kiss and dance on a Sunday night in the arms of a lover. She didn’t think she’d ever have a day where she felt love, a love she wasn’t afraid to admit.

Especially to two people.

The pair of you danced in silence, listening to the lyrics that serenaded the way you spun her and the laugh that bubbled up her chest her perfect, pinned, blonde curls came loose.

And darling when the morning comes

And I see the morning sun

I wanna be the one with you.

When Maxwell came home, he noticed how quiet the house was. No chatter or footsteps along the hardwood floors. He knew what day it was, of course he did. He wasn’t an idiot. Valentine’s Day wasn’t a special day with the Lords. It never had been.

But of course, that was before they met you.

Maxwell never saw that love with his parents. His mother was cold and cruel, and while his father was a good man, he knew he didn’t love her. He didn’t blame him for it. But now he felt it. The way his heart would hammer against his ribs so hard he wondered if you could hear him. The way all his stress and anger would melt away the moment Valerie’s hands held his face in a grasp like that used to carry a bird with a broken wing.

He didn’t think it was possible to love. To desire and need somebody as much as he did you two. Now he did, and he wouldn’t go back to a life without it for all the money and power in the world.

The sound of smooth sax caught his attention. Slowly, he set down his briefcase and followed the music until he found himself in front of the kitchen.

This. Maxwell thought as he watched the two of you, your eyes shut as you held one another in a close embrace as swayed. This is why he did it all.

The long hours, the greuling work and idiotic employees. If he could come home to this everyday, it’d all be worth it.

He leaned against the doorway, watching you two until your own eyes opened and met his.

“Happy to finally have you with us monopoly-man.”

He snorted at your lovingly crude nickname. “It was a long day at work.” Gone was the fake ‘apple-pie-and-picket-fence’ accent he forced himself to use at work when he spoke and you loved it. To see the real Maxwell was a privilege, one you would never take for granted.

“Every day at work is a long day for you.”

Before he could retort, his wife unwrapped her arms from you and walked over to her husband. Valerie cupped his face in her hand and led him to her lips with a soft moan. Maxwell melted into the kiss with ease, all thoughts of work and conference calls vanished into thin air as his wife’s fingers carded through his hair. She pulled away with a wet pop and ran a thumb over the smudged lipstick on his face.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, dear.”

Maxwell let his hand run over her bottom lip with a lazy smile. She was magnificent like this. Not preened or pinned or posed. She was messy and unkempt and happy. She never looked more breathtaking than in those moments.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, honey.”

Her eyes flicked over his crisp suit and her sweet smile was replaced with a groan.

“Son of a bitch you fuckers are matching!”

You shrieked with laughter while Valerie pointed an accusatory finger at the heart-covered tie that lay on her husband’s chest.

“You tacky traitor!”

You leaned over and pressed your lips to his cheek, his hand coming to rest at the small of your back.

“Aw don’t worry, Max. She’s just jealous she isn't matching with us.”

Valerie reared back. “I’ll be caught dead before I ever-”

“Alastair sent them to us.”

A moment of silence passed before she spoke again, more offended than annoyed.

“And he didn’t send one for me?”

Maxwell smirked at his wife, fishing out a small white box and presenting it to her.

“Our son knows his mother wouldn’t be caught dead in anything with gaudy patterns.” He opened the box and she took in the red heart earrings with a smile.

Which was ultimately ruined by you.

“Aw, he boujee just like his mama!”

Before either one could snap back at you, a small ding sounded through the kitchen and you moved quickly over to the oven.

“You know-” Maxwell spoke as he put the earrings on his wife with gentle hands- “We have a chef for a reason.”

You brought out the pan and set it onto the stove, taking in the savory smell with a proud smile.

“Well, fine then. Go get your cook to make you dinner if you want to complain.”

“Wait. Wait, no that not- that’s not what I meant- I’m starving, please.”

Valerie moved around her husband, taking a bottle of red wine and bumping his hip with hers. “Just set the table Maxwell, we both know how you can make it up to her later. It’s a special day after it all.”

Her husband loosened his tie and grinned at you in a way that made you think he wanted to eat you for dinner instead of the meal you prepared.

“Lovely idea, darling.”

#maxwell lord #maxwell lord x oc #maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord x you #valerie lord x reader #maxwell lord x valerie lord x reader #ROOSASUT #ww1984 #wonder women 1984 #fanfiction #max lord #maxwell lorenzano #tell me if i missed any tags lmao

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seduceme-lovestruck-thearcana · 3 years

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When The Wine Glass is Empty

So @simpsonjenna1

I got your prompt of Ares like poisoning MC and Alex watching her slowly die :’)). But guess what?? When I went to save the draft??? Tumblr just??? Deleted the submission???!?!!?!? So, sorry I don’t have your exact idea and such, but I think this was the basics? I really hope it was!! And sorry it’s taken me so long to get to this :(

And @megatraven Lookie👀

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Alex was sitting at their desk at work in the early morning hours. They knew that they shouldn’t be here this early, but they had to do something. Their mind kept wandering and they weren’t getting anywhere with sleep. Their mind was too busy focusing on the memory of Ares demanding MC to be his hero.

She was in the dojo, helping them interview people, and despite her calm, she got smart with Ares. He in return tried to attack her, and they obviously went to protect her, but she also reacted. She protected everyone in the room, overloading the power from her ring, and leading to her passing out. However, they all stood witness as Ares gave a snake like smirk at them and barked out a laugh.

“Yes. I want her to be my new hero!”

Their hand that was typing froze as hot anger flowed through them from the memory.

“How dare he even have the nerve to say such a thing.” Their voice was filled with anger because he knew that this would bug them, he knew that they held MC close to their heart, and he could never stop being cruel could he?

They let out a sigh and continued typing and looking through the database. They had to find a new hero, find more people, and do anything to stop him. And to stop their own mother. Their mother sided with Ares, told them that MC should be a candidate, even if she knew that she didn’t want to be. She was afraid of being his hero, afraid of him, and even they were afraid of him, despite all their anger. Yet, their mother sided with him, not even deciding to listen to them.

That’s what really broke them inside. They could handle Ares remarks, his cruelness, his mess that they had to clean up, but hearing their own mother not even listen to their pleas? Not even listen to the woman who is in danger? Their heart would always break when they thought of that moment of their mother siding with him. But they had to push it aside, they had to push so much aside, and work as hard as they can to end his search.

After a few hours of working, it became the afternoon, and their concentration was ruined when they got a call on the computer.

It was from their mother.

They took in a deep breath and answered the call.

“Hello, mother,” they greeted her, their tone sounding monotone. It didn’t carry the tone of happiness like it usually did, and their mother noticed this. She gave them a small smile.

“Hello, my hart. How is your work coming along?” Her voice was bright like it usually was and she sounded truly excited to see them, despite the tenseness that was between them. They loved when their mother called, but she never called out of the blue. Plus, they did just have a big argument.

“Stressful,” they breathed out. ‘Stressful’ didn’t even convey the emotions they were feeling, but they couldn’t tell her. Not now.

“I know dealing with Ares is stressful, and I’m sorry you have to deal with it.” She was finally addressing the topic of Ares, and she looked truly regretful, so their heart felt a little bit better. However, the sting from the argument was still affecting both of them.

“What is it that you called me for, Mother?” They wanted to get straight to the point, so they could continue to get this job done.

“Ares has said he wants to apologize to you and MC. He wants to meet you at Josh’s restaurant.”

Their face turned to one of anger and they were ready to refuse their mother, but she cut them off.

“Please, Alex.” Her voice sounded like a plea, and it was rare for their mother to sound like this, so they couldn’t refuse her.

They gave a sigh and looked down at the desk.

“I’ll go and try to be nice,” they said as they rubbed at their temples, trying to ease the already forming headache.

“Thank you, Alex. Whenever you’re done, come up here to see me, okay?”

They nodded and wished her goodbye. They knew she was trying to help, she always was. And they didn’t know the future, maybe he will actually apologize.

“Or maybe my mother’s forcing will make him act sorry,” they whispered out. They don’t know the truth, but they guess they’ll find out tonight.

That night, they go back to their apartment with MC and they both get dressed. Usually, they would be talking, joking, and being happy together, but they were quiet now. The fear and anxiety of the situation is hitting them in the face.

They suddenly feel MC’s arms wrap around them from behind. She gives them a comforting squeeze and they pause from buttoning up their vest. They lean into her comfort and let out a sigh.

“Alex, we’ll do this together and we’ll make it out alright!” Her voice was confident and bright, but they knew it was almost fake. His fear was even affecting her when he wasn’t around, and it was hurting them too.

They finish buttoning up their vest and turn around in her arms. They see her outfit and her makeup all put together for tonight, and a blush goes across their face.

“You look really good,” they say with a loving laugh. They loved how she looked no matter what, and it always caused them to blush and stutter. They just wish it was under better circumstances. However, they push it off and kiss her on the forehead.

“Let’s go and get this over with, shall we?”

She smiles and takes their arm as they leave.

They arrive at Josh’s restaurant and he greets them at the door. He gives MC a kiss on the cheek and gives Alex a firm handshake.

“It’s always good to see you two,” he said with a smile. Seeing him and being at this place would feel calm and it would put them at ease, but now it made them even more tense. Thankfully, however, there was a section completely empty. Almost no one would be able to hear them.

They thanked Josh and walked to their table and waited. They were both tense and they felt the anxiety rise with each minute. The only thing keeping each other slightly calm was the way they held each other’s hand. It was a tight grip, but a comforting grip.

After 30 minutes, Ares actually showed up. He was walking towards them and they felt the shift in the room. The air was heavy and their panic increased even more. Alex hated the effect Ares had on them, but they knew it was worse for MC.

They looked over at her as soon as he sat down, and they saw her face and saw fear. They knew she was trying to hide it, but it was hard around a Top Tier God. And after a split second, she put on a smile and squeezed their hand for support.

“Hello, Ares. It’s nice to see you,” she said, her voice wavering but still managing to be kind.

He looked at her and sized her up and down. That mere action caused Alex to tense up and narrow their eyes. It wasn’t necessarily jealousy, but they knew he was still thinking of her as his hero, and that caused them anger at anything he did. He then switched his attention to Alex and gave a fake smile.

“Well, it’s nice to see you here, Alex.” His voice sounded like a snake and it made Alex cringe on the inside, but they played nice.

“It’s nice to see you too, Ares,” they said through clenched teeth.

Ares noticed the affect on them and it caused him to smile wider, almost looking like the Cheshire cat. He just kept smiling and looked down at the table and noticed wine glasses.

“Oh! Why don’t we start this night off with one glass of wine?” His eyes were trained on MC’s and it made her uncomfortable. This time she couldn’t hide it. She squeezed Alex’s hand and took in a breath.

“I’m not sure about that. We just came here to talk, not really eat,” she told him, managing to be direct and firm. Alex was proud of her for pushing back that fear even if it was for one moment.

His face went sour, but it only lasted for a quick second.

“Why not just one drink? Call it a toast to putting things behind us?” This time, his eyes were on Alex. His tone was teasing and it just brought more uncomfortable feelings to the both of them.

Before they could say anything else, he called over a waiter and asked for some wine. However, not just any wine. He mentioned a special wine he left in with the kitchen staff. The waiter looked uncomfortable and a little worried, but left with the wine glasses. After only a few moments, they came back and Ares thanked them for the wine.

“This is the finest wine I’ve had in awhile. It was pretty hard to get it, you know?” He sounded proud, in a way, as he gave them each their own glass.

Alex and MC looked at the wine color and it matched Alex’s eyes. This was their favorite wine, and he somehow knew that.

Ares lifted his glass up in a toast and they followed suit, trying to be polite.

“To new beginnings.” He then began to drink and even though they were uncomfortable, Alex and MC drank as well. They both drank until the wine glass was empty.

And that was their mistake.

They put their glasses down and Alex noticed how Ares stared at MC. That wasn’t the first time since he came here, but something was different. It’s like he was expecting something to happen.

And then MC began to cough.

Alex looked over at her, and she kept coughing, and they knew it wasn’t a ‘normal’ cough. This cough sounded painful, then it sounded like she was choking, and then they saw her hand. She was holding her hand over her mouth, trying not to be too loud or impolite, but she pulled her hand back and the coughing stopped. But the panic began.

Her hand was covered in blood, and blood began to drip from her mouth as she coughed again. Alex went into an immediate panic and they tried to help her up to leave, but she couldn’t. It was like her body was shutting down. She was paralyzed, and Alex began to become paralyzed as well. The situation elevated so quickly.

They looked over at Ares and his smile was now cruel. The red in his eyes seemed to glow as he let out a little laugh.

“She can’t handle the wine?”

“What did you do to her?” Their voice was pissed and if they weren’t in public, their aura would be out and already attacking Ares.

“Oh, nothing. It’s just funny how a demigod and a mortal’s tolerance is different. And not just alcohol tolerance, but poison.”

Alex’s heart dropped and they finally realize how they feel as well. There’s no blood, no coughing, but their chest hurts, they feel a little weak, and now they knew what he came here for.

He came to kill her. If he couldn’t have his way, then apparently no one could could have their way.

Alex was ready to yell and fight, but they felt MC tug at their hand and they looked over at her. She was pale, her coughing had dimmed down, and she was barely breathing. She was dying, and in desperation for something to save her, they called out to Josh.

“Josh! Call 911!”

But they deep down knew it was too late. She had drank a glass full of a poison, and they didn’t know if there was any way of coming back after that.

And so, they were forced to watch as she laid her head against the table, watched her coughing stop, and watch the light drain from her eyes.

———————————————————————

OKAY SO ENQBWH. I didn’t necessarily know where to go with this. I mean, I had an idea BUT I didn’t know how Ares would poison her exactly?? I was just thinking that maybe he slipped a wine into the kitchen, had poison in it, poured a specific amount in Alex’s glass and then MCs glass that would kill her. I wasn’t sure what to do lol. And sorry that tumblr ate your submission idea :(. BUT YEAH HOPE YOU LIKE IT AND YOU TOO MEG💙💙💙.

And the ending is probably a little weird because I didn’t know how to end it exactly and everything and yeah and theres some proofreading but sorry if there’s mistakes anywhere.

#my writing #lovestruck #Astoria fates kiss #Astoria fates kiss alex #Alex cyprin #AND OOOOH you KNOW Josh blames himself too. It hit me after I finished writing that oh no...Josh...she died in HIS restaurant. Under HIS #staff. And I think he wouldn’t necessarily be angry at the waiter because #they didn’t know BUT STILL HES SO SAD AND HATES THE GODS EVEN MORE. And let’s not get started on Alex and the way they’re so angry. And #Aphrodite GUILT AND ANGER AS WELL. Hnnnng so much could happen af r this fic and it’s just left to y’all’s imagination😌💙#AND MEGG!!! This fic is spaced out like my new Rose and Apollo chapter. Saying that because I wanted to show that the chapters should #be easier to read since they’re not as long exactly?? Still long and in same length but spaced out more so it doesn’t look #as long?? Ya know?? And I have to say that theres some lore dropping in this lifetime >:)))#ANYWAYS YEAH LOVE YOU BOTH AND HOPE YOU LOVE THE ALEX ANGST #hmmm...I’m a little tired...might fall asleep but idk. might wait for replies bc that’s how I be lol

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seb-owns-these-tatas · 4 years

Text

Witcher Of The Night (Chapter 4)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

CHAPTER 3

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Ciri wanted chicken and so she gets one. Y/N needed warmth amongst the cold weather in the Forest of Kaedwan and she'd received more than a warmth for her body as it traveled straight to her heart; warming her soul. Even getting some sort of comfort from the witcher himself. Other than that, Geralt had a lead on where the sorceress was. Though, right now he needed her to help you Plus, he also had other options other than that.

Warnings: FULL OF Y/N AND GERALT FLUFF. ❤ Geralt is an asshole at first because of certain reasons. 😂 Blood and animal killing in this one. Smiling, soft Geralt, tho still having that stoic expression of his of course. Gotta write him completely in character. 😂 Also, a Hirikka is here and will be on the next chapter!

Words: 3,900+

A/N: There's a part 2 for this chapter. It'll be a chapter 4.1 but will be posted after 2-3 days. ^u^ I couldn't put them together because it'll be 8-9k words long. 😅😂 Sorry, if I write long ass chapters and the pace is still slow. I need to develop their characters, relationship and such. The places said here are from the game however it isn’t accurate and I just made my own direction. Like how I try to make my life go in the right path but failing and actually walking on the wrong path. LMAO. Also, I’m making a masterlist for WOTN! 🤗

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE!

Disclaimer: PNG's used in edits are not mine even the GIF's too. However, the edits and oneshots are definitely from moi. Characters, places and said monsters aren't from moi as well.

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

"Do you not...have cars, Geralt? Or motorcycles?"

You've panted like you were having a marathon, palms falling on your knees as you took a breather; seeing a small cottage on the far end of the shallow path in the forest.

It was a smaller house that had a fence with chickens, goats and pigs segregated by kind. The home was a sandy shade of yellow and a slip of brown which was also made just like how Geralt's have been.

No answer was given to you other than how he was hauling Roach back to look at you who were walking along side with him; not bothering to even ask you for a ride. It's not like you were hoping he would. Based on the change of mood he'd gotten, you were sure he won't lend you his horse to lessen your difficulty in traveling bare foot.

You've already asked what his horse's name was. He simply answered with the word 'Roach', allowing you to touch the horse as she neighed. Much to someone's dismay; specifically a bard who happened to saw the whole interaction, left a mutter to himself.

"Why does the midget get to touch Roach in haste and I don't?!" Jaskier muttered rather in disbelief. The Witcher fixing his black, hooded wool cape attached to his shoulders, giving him a subtle hum with the gravel of his voice.

Jaskier huffed for the third time, hands on his hips as he watched the scene before him with incredulity in his baby blue peepers. You happily caressed her crest as Geralt fixed things on the leather bag attached to the horse's hip.

"Geralt---" Jaskier started but was cut off with a insouciant scold from the man himself, "Don't call her midget," he cut him off without even paying him attention. Jaskier gave a nod; a grin molding his face leading to mischief at the chide given.

Jaskier took a step close and planned to give Roach's crest a caress but his stern friend was fast enough to cease his wishes, "Still, don't touch roach," Geralt quickly mumbled as he felt Jaskier's plan on touching his horse. The bard slyly grabbed onto his own hair, brushing them through his locks like he wasn't about to pet Roach. Geralt closed the bag with a soft click, giving him the side-eye; voice firm and full of derision, "I don't want you singing a song about my horse in the near future,"

Which is why you were walking on your own now with Geralt's good will on making you handle the death march rather like a happy child.

It was probably okay, you thought at the back of your mind. Walking, that is. Exercising in the morning was great, except that if it weren't too chilly unlike him who have gotten a full armor and gear out of his closet like he'd gone out of a magazine or animè. The sword on his back even giving you shivers, but a different kind because of how tough looking he had as his exterior.

You shook your head as he just looked back at you. That look of his that was filled of inquiry; asking you what you were saying in the back of your mind. A huff of pure exhaustion was given to The Witcher before you sauntered forward, leaving the man eyeing you with sass and a high raise of his bushy brow.

Geralt followed through along with Roach as he pulled her reins, slowly galloping as he analyzed your form from behind. His buttoned up tunic that reached the ends of your thighs with a weird kind of foot ware that certainly doesn't help with the crispy, brisk temperature of the forest.

Geralt gravelly sighed, watching you struggle with scrubbing your legs together as you pathetically strolled forward and onto the place that he'd pointed. He was too engrossed at seeing you struggle when he has heard a slight twig breaking from afar, catching his senses and making him look to where it came from.

"Midget," The Witcher tried calling you with that deep voice of his in the middle of the woods. Though, to no avail; you never heard him coherently and continued your stroll through the forest; hollering a message without even looking back because of the mere exhaustion.

"You're too slow, Geralt, like an old man! I'm exhausted!"

He breathed out his vexation of your naivety that you weren't strolling in your world. You were walking in theirs and having your own little dimension while you walk by yourself can be pretty dangerous.

Geralt heard the crack of another wood. It was from behind a large hickory tree. He doubtfully grabbed onto the handle of his sword wrapped behind him; halfway unsheathing the sword and contemplating if he needed to jump off his horse when suddenly a medium sized Hirikka came into his view, maybe an inch shorter than you. Those eyes that were doe, just like yours whenever you wanted something and eventually getting it from him.

"You're hungry, aren't you?" Geralt asked the Hirrika. The tone in his voice softer and in awe. He'd rummaged through his bag without taking his Aurum, blazing eyes away from the harmless creature, feeling an apple inside his bag and threw it as the Hirikka caught it with its own two paws.

"Don't get yourself killed out there,"

Thus, he began to follow you as fast as possible before you even get yourself harmed from any monsters. When he'd seen you leaning on the fences of Cuthberth's home, he didn't know he has been holding a breath for as long as he could remember without seeing the sight of you.

You were making him insane for not even waiting for him and thinking what would've attacked you in the forest of Kaedwan.

Cuthbert was feeding the chickens inside their palisades. His friend thought you were lost but you've said that you came for the purpose of buying chickens with a man. He was friendly enough to give you chitter-chatter while waiting for Geralt to follow you from behind. It took minutes before he arrived with a complete set of body parts; so the worry of him being killed off by a monster was thrown in the dumps.

As he rode his horse closer, you've had the chance to admire the beauty edging to be seen. You were in awe as his mere self was enough to get you ogling at the man treading near. Never seeing such a man like that who wore armors in his everyday life except from seeing Cosplayers in certain conventions that seemed so fake rather than Geralt who felt real. Too real that you were pondering if he was just a mere hallucination or a fantasy of yours.

He was definitely eye-candy. Dashing. Ravishing. Beyond gorgeous.

Cuthbert saw them coming and so, his expression turned wild with a grin. His dirty fingers scratching his bald head in excitement as he jogged out of the fences with a giddy self. "Oi! You didn't tell me it's the infamous Geralt of Rivia, elfin!"

Famous. He's famous? you thought to yourself before keeping your eyes away from the witcher who had already jumped down his horse and gave you a look; asking what was wrong because you were staring like there was a problem at hand.

You didn't need to tell him that your heart was actually the problem. It was always skipping a beat whenever he'd pay a glimpse to stare at your eyes.

A soft clear of your throat, your fist covering your mouth as you do and you eyed Cuthbert inquisitively, "Is he famous? Famous for what? Is he an actor? Model? The king of this kingdom or something?"

Cuthbert patted his dirty hands on his soiled apron full of flour, a hand on his hip while the other reaches out for Geralt's powerful looking shoulder in attempt to give him a pat. The animal butcher's forest green eyes coruscant of fervor. Geralt's initial response was to give him a smile back with the man's excitement in seeing him again, "This lad's a something! Kills all types of beasts, vampires, dragons, huge kikimores---"

You coughed out loud, making them snap their heads from where you stood. Cuthbert's words sounded too surprising to be true. As much as you remembered, vampires only existed in the movies and games; not in the real life survival of people. His words caught you off-guard, "Vamp--vampires? There's vampires here, Cuthbert? Even dragons?"

Geralt looked at you, utmost jaded. The way your voice stuttered alerted him that you were scared or probably still unfamiliar--still illiterate of their world since he was doubting to give you all the information ahead if you abruptly disappear out-of-nowhere with the knowledge of the continent; their world. It would be very much dangerous for it to be compromised especially that you had the experience in teleporting to their dimension.

Cuthbert gave a loud laugh, not believing the strangeness of your words, "You're actin' like yer’ never been here before! I thought yer’ were livin' with the Witcher?! You should ask the white wolf, here! He's killed hundreds! Maybe even thousands!"

You've fluttered your eyes closed, trying to calm yourself from running off the forest and getting yourself killed just like the horror movies you've watched. You've called them idiots, now wasn't the time to call yourself one as well.

Though, you were completely unaware of Geralt's gaze which consist an ample amount of worry. You continued your rambles in a hushed whisper, "I'm not just in a freakin' game that have monsters, but even a live-action movie of Twilight. This is great, real great."

The Witcher clenched his teeth, gradually turning his body to you without moving his soles. His forehead creasing as he could feel your heart beat quickening, "Are there also wolves? Big bad wolves here?" your voiced lowering a miniscule, sounding diminutive.

His friend gave off a shrug, his mouth forming a thin line when he did so as he scratched his whitened beard, "We may never know what this world can bring, Elfin! It always brings out the worst of everythin'!"

At the confident mention of that, you've felt your chest tightening with the knowledge of having vampires and dragons around. What if you died in their world? Would you also be dead in earth? Geralt licked his Crimson lips, staring down at you with utmost comfort that he could give. Yet, he failed at that with how stoic his expressions can get. Though, his eyes were exempted because his feelings can be read through those stern, Aurum eyes.

Midway, he'd lift his burly armor-coated arms to plan and give your back a caress to calm you down; but he was immediate enough to drop it down considering that maybe even a touch to the hand would calm you because he'd seen it trembled. If only he was thoroughly direct towards you; he would in a heart beat.

"Don't panic, Midget." The roughness of his voice; that definite amount of timbre. It was the only word you've heard from him. Short but straightforward. Even so, still the only thing that calmed you down through out all your panic attacks back in earth and even in their world.

Cuthbert has seen Geralt's attempt of comfort; even seeing his eyes shift in a way that nobody else could. He had a smirk on his face, scrubbing that beard he was owning, "Who is she, Witcha'? Another one of those clingy harlots of yours?"

Geralt turned his head to see Cuthbert smirking. The way his eyes changed into a lethargic faze meant that the witcher was mantling the emotions he was having or probably having no idea that he was feeling it yet; in denial of the state he was in.

"---Or the trouble and strife?"

The witcher knew what he meant and decided to let those words fall out of his ear to the other. His hands clasping together on his front as he straightened his back, cocking his head to the side as he narrowed his eyes on the latter, "We need...chickens," Cuthbert raised his eyebrows in astonishment, "You cook now, witcher?"

No words were said besides from a satisfied hum as the chickens clucked before the butcher of animals. The panic died down because of Geralt's voice and you've finally had the will to insert yourself in the conversation.

"I do!" you excitedly exclaimed, stepping a foot closer to Geralt and the witcher was aware of it, giving you the side-eye, "---also, do you have any spices please?"

Cuthbert nodded in comprehension, sending a playful wink to The Witcher and scrubbing his hands together as he also gave you a rogouish smile, "Oh, that kind. The little woman, Geralt! Literally because this elfin is quite short but fetching nevertheless!" Geralt gave him an apathetic blink of an eye, sighing from the talkativeness of the man.

But, also worth it if he could see those anticipated beams of yours as you stood beside him.

The latter gave out a loud sigh, seeming to be in his head space as he talked his thoughts out loud, "---I remember how Gisela cooks Flamiche for me whenever I go home from me' hunt! Though, that woman seldom does it anymore considering how Bridgely gets her attention a lots!"

Geralt gave him that daunting smile of his; wanting to tell the man to just butcher the heck out of the chickens already as he wanted to get it over with. You gave Cuthbert a wide smile, oblivious of Geralt's taunting gaze back at the man. He suppressed a laugh and nodded to himself; quickly running off to Geralt's wishes.

As the chicken was being slaughtered across the fence, Geralt was thoroughly unaware that you were already sniffing and crying because it was all out in the open and you could see how it was being killed. He watched you look over the fence and inspect Cuthbert cutting its head off and it made you shriek, warm tears falling on the sides of your face while watching how much pity you've given to the chicken.

Geralt did a double-take, eyeing you and where you were staring at and saw how you were crying over a chicken being slaughtered. He wanted to laugh because of how you were being sad over it. However, he decided against so as to not offend you when you were just pouring your heart out in this one.

"I thought...you wanted chickens?" the witcher pondered, leaning away from the fence and facing you instead with that amused glint in his eyes.

You've sniffed hard, patting your nose with his clothes that you were wearing from; the snot wanting to come out of its cave. You gazed up at him; eyes damp and reddish from the cries. "I did, Geralt! But not for it to be killed like this!" you hiccuped from all the bawling that has happened, "---It was better to be bought in a supermarket!"

The way you cry always made a pinch inside Geralt's heart. A kind where he would try and do everything to make it stop because you were annoying but also irresistible.

His lips lifted in a slight beam, looking around the forest before peering down at your sobbing thyself. "There, there," surprisingly, Geralt cooed before you; stopping your weeps short as you gaped at the tall witcher. His chiseled face warped in clear softness and mirth, "---for a bountiful feast requires death in exchange for us to be sated,"

The amazing color of his eyes gleamed more under the sun. You couldn't help but outstare back at him with that stupefied look of utter adoration. You snapped out of your daydream when he was waiting for a witty retort but you've loudly cleared your throat; the heat travelling to your neck. Before it can even reach your face, you turned your head back to look at Cuthbert who was now grinning back at you; holding the headless chicken up for you to see. Its blood dripping down the ground as he mouthed a 'what do you think?' back at you and Geralt to tell you if the size of the chicken was a-okay.

Your face quickly morphed into a wince, another mourn about to come to light when you've felt a warm hand on your shoulder; shooting lightning to your spine as you jumped from the physical touch. Geralt gently turned your body around; away from the panorama of chicken slaughter. The way his lips lifting in a small, soft smile never leaving yet. "Don't look at it,"

A huff was sent to the latter, "I can't! It's making noise!"

"Then cover your ears," Geralt's brow raised in sarcasm. Though, those playful sparkle never dying down. You narrowed your eyes back at him, an annoyed crease of your forehead as you explained and raised your hands back at him. It looked dull and definitely freezing, "But, my hands are shaking from the cold!"

Geralt studied you from head to foot, noting the lack of clothes you were wearing. The smile you've grown to love fell as he sighed, looking away for a moment before a tiresome gaze of his eyes was sent to you. He held onto the string of his jet black hooded cape, unlatching it around his neck as you stared up at him in utmost curiosity.

The softness of his cape fell around your shoulders like a furnace hugging your body; better yet the soul that needed a hug after all you've experienced since the first time you've been in their world. You could feel your heart warming at the gesture of Geralt giving you his dramatic cape; even growing hotter when he was tethering the tie together; intently staring down at your face and feeling his thick, calloused fingers inches before your neck.

Maybe, an egg was worthy of using your face as a frying pan right now.

You consciously looked away from the heat of his stare. Geralt tightened the tie around your neck as you've felt the heaviness of his cape over your shoulders. He drew he fingers away from your neck, slanting his head as he never cut the gaze he had; rather than you who'd looked away because you were...blushing.

"Better?" His voice graveled, a small beam carving his face. You've reluctantly gawked back at him, giving him a reserved nod. The way you were acting looked entirely stupid, your eyes looking like those googly ones used as stickers back in your desk as you tried avoiding the intensity of his stare. You bit the insides of your cheeks, deciding to leave the exhilaration out in the back as you had the courage to look at him, "Better!---Never better, Ge-Geralt!" Regardless of the brave act, you embarrassingly stammered and cited his name wrongly with a shameful 'J', "I mean, Geralt. Geralt with a G!" you back paddled in an instant, scratching your temples as you avoided his eyes and tried to fan your face.

The witcher looked askance, he could hear your heart beat running miles after miles. Geralt pondered why and what was making it pump fast when you weren't even having your panic attacks.

He crossed his hefty arms, looking at you skeptically but with a stupefying smile on his face, "Are you going to stop being a bairn now?"

You initially stopped fanning your face, narrowing your eyes back at him; completely confused, "What's a bairn?" he sighed and glanced at the sky, shaking his head with a beam that fell as quick as you've seen it when Geralt heard Cuthbert walking to where you were and glanced at the acquaintance.

The dead chicken was tied close to the witcher's bag located on the hip of his horse. You were busy staring at the four pieces of aftershafted chickens dangling on Roach's side with that sympathetic glaze of your eyes but actually talking at the back of your mind that its death would be worth it because you cook well and he'll taste good.

Cuthbert scrutinized your nodding form. A strange expression written on his face that tells that he was seeing the oddity that you were nodding at the chickens like you were talking to them.

The animal butcher was running his blabber mouth about how his chickens were also missing every other day. Sometimes his pigs or goats that made Geralt narrow his eyes from his share of message; his nose slightly scrunching from the admission of Cuthbert with his missing animals.

He didn't need to know that some were kind of caught by Geralt's hands. Maybe at least ten chickens, three pigs and two goats. Even so, slaughtered by the witcher himself.

The sneaky witcher couldn't catch a chicken as of the moment because he always does it at night. Catching a chicken from other people's fence in the morning can be risky and definitely tricky.

"About...the sorceress," Geralt trailed off, grabbing Cuthbert's attention away from you before he could even think you didn't belong to their world and guessed about his stealing escapades. He spun his head to look at Geralt, thoroughly distracted from how he called him out, "---you still hangin' onto that sorceress you had, witcher?"

"No...It's....kind of complicated," the latter speculated with a shake of his head.

Cuthbert nodded in understanding, scratching the nape of his neck as he seem to ponder, "The tittle-tattles around the village says that the sorceress is in a burgh called 'crow's perch' in the east of Vizima," pause. "It's a long journey out there! Lots'a beasts to encounter before it!" he roughly warned.

The Witcher only hummed in response; deep in thought as he calculated how long will it take to get there after a week when he was done with any favors for the villagers of Kaedwan and for some of his options on how to get you home.

His first choice was the Djinn. Now, he just needed to find one. Again. But, not for the sole purpose of asking peace and a long nap but to help you.

Geralt fished out the black pouch he kept on his sides, reaching out to give it to Cuthbert across the fence. The animal butcher shook his head to decline the money, "No, I don't need yer' coins." he simply admitted with a scoff, "You've helped us a lot; for me to be accepting some kind of repayment from the white wolf himself---,"

"----You deserve a thank you for all your help, Witcher." Cuthbert continued with a grateful tone.

Thus, this was the first time that he'd been acknowledged by his help in slaying monsters and terrifying creatures. The man himself didn't know how pleasing it was to hear those words from a mere human and from a person he'd help back in the years. Even so, seeing those smiles you've given him when you were excited to cook the damn chicken didn't seem so satisfying and delightful to look at; until now..

MORE FLUFF ON CHAPTER 4.1! Heehee! THANK YOU FOR THE LOVE, TATER TOTS! AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO LOVES GERALT CALLING Y/N, MIDGET?

Taglist: @alyxkbrl @himarisolace @barkingbullfrog @ayamenimthiriel @hellodevilslittlesister @vania-marie @spookypeachx @grungelovebug @fangirl-inthe-us @nympeth @missjenniferb (I couldn’t tag you AGAIN bud! A different blog was popping out of the recommendation and it wasn’t your blog. Though, I’ll try again on the next update! Don’t worry! Tumblr is being DUMBLR RN. I’M MAD) @amirahiddleston @gabethelobster @dreaming-about-starfleet @uncoolcloudyhead @melaninstylezz @psychosupernatural

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wychive · 4 years

Text

𝙨𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙖 𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 ─ 𝙠. 𝙮𝙨.

pairing(s) // yeosang x fem!reader

genre(s) // fluff, a little angst, royal!au, childhood!au

word count // 2.9k

author's note // this is my debut story on tumblr so it might not be up to standard but nonetheless i hope you all like it <3 this if for @noya-sannnn whom i love so much. p. s. listen to calming guitar melodies while reading this!

The night was cold but the fireplace was warm enough for the both of you. You and Yeosang sat in front of the crackling fire, playing around with the toys you bought together that cold afternoon.

“I’ll save you princess!”

“Oh yay! Captain Bright is-”

Yeosang groaned and rolled his eyes at you, putting down his toy hero. “It’s Captain Light, Y/N. How many times have I told you?”

“It’s the same thing, like potato potato,” You crossed your arms and placed it against your chest, huffing out. “Whatever..”

It was the first night of December. Yeosang’s mother and yours were in the kitchen preparing the presents. You could hear them struggling with some of the gift wrap and almost took the chance to see what your presents were but then a little speck of white caught your eye from outside the window.

The six-year-old you together with the superhero, ran to the window as the first snow of the season fell. Your dark spheres became stars, looking in awe at the pretty snowflakes. In the distance, you could see the spectacular castle as snow covered its tall towers. You frowned, turning away from the sight. Yeosang noticed your moody attitude and proceeded with a sigh.

“Hey, Y/N..” He stood in front of you and tilted his head to the side. “What’s wrong?”

“I want to know how it feels like to be an actual princess,” You prance around the living room, as if you were in one of those barbie movies. “To wear dresses, to have a big ballroom, and to meet cool princes,” You stopped and sighed. You proceeded to sit on one of the velvet sofas, dangling your feet.

Yeosang shook his head and sat beside you. “You don’t need those things to live, though,” he says, swinging his legs back and forth. “You have me and your parents, aren’t you happy with us-”

You cut him off. “Yea but still.. Yeosang, don’t you want to know how it feels like to live the life of a prince?” The boy thought about the idea for a short while and nodded to himself thinking about the fancy meals and the amount of toys he’d have if he was a young royal.

The boy leaped from the couch and went to the middle of the room. He extended his hand towards you, signaling for you to grab it. “Wanna see what my parents taught me? It’s a dance, but more fancy than what we usually do”

You exhaled the cold air and smiled before going up to him. “Show me, kind sir.”

“Um- but before we dance, we have to do this,” he blushed a light pink tint and proceeded to bow in front of you, pretending to take off a hat. “May I have this dance, m’lady?”

You tried so hard not to laugh at the sight but then answered with a giggly yes. He could see you almost bursting out one of the biggest laughs ever and playfully slapped the side of your shoulder.

“Okay, first we put our hands on each other’s shoulders,” He placed his hands on your shoulders, as you did the same. An awkward silence filled the air but that didn’t bother the both of you.

“Now, we just swing side to side,” He moved, swaying both of you together. You let out a little giggle.

“This is ridiculous! Did your parents make up this dance?”

“They said this is what they do at the festivals up there in the castle so..”

“Well, it’s still stupid,” You pouted jokingly. You both swayed to nothing but just the crackling fire and the voices of both of your mothers echoing from the kitchen. Suddenly, a light bulb appeared on the top of your head. You took control and spinned the heck out of you both, earning a little warm laugh from the boy in front of you. Getting more and more dizzy with every round, you stopped and collapsed to the ground, followed by the male which collapsed beside you.

Both of you continued laughing as if the only care in the world was if you got on the nice list for Christmas. Your soft smiles were illuminated by the fire that was starting to burn out.

“Y/N, promise me something..” He said, facing the ceiling with his hands on his stomach.

“Hm?”

“When we grow up, promise me we will do that again,” He said, followed by his classic warm smile.

“Princess Y/N,” your head perked up to see one of your royal maids calling out your name from the end of the hallway.

“Your dress is ready for the autumn festival!”

You groaned, not wanting to get out of your comfortable pajamas any sooner. This princess life was not what you had in mind. Now that you were eighteen, everything magical about being a princess faded away. The princes were not more than riches, the dresses so tight they didn't care about your respiratory tract and the dances to be filled with people that you didn't even know existed. Ten years ago, when your mother was revealed to be a distant relative to the royal family, they had asked her to take over the throne as they had no one left to count on. You ought to think that this was going to be just like Sofia The First. The hardest thing was to leave your life behind, including Yeosang. Seeing him act tough when you left made your heart flutter a little, of course, you didn’t - hadn’t - told him yet. Ever since you got here, every little thing that brings you joy would remind yourself of him. The same question would always repeat, “What was he doing now?”

With the help of your maid, you put your blue dress on that had streak marks of gold foil. It was a little tight around your waist, but you managed to get comfortable. Thank God, people don't use corsets anymore because that would've been such a nightmare. You really didn't like the fancy ballroom dances but admired the musical art behind it. Honestly, you would rather just stay in your room reading a good book instead of facing the thousands of fakes that were there to either take over your kingdom or ask for your hand in marriage.

Dusk arrived sooner than expected and the guests filled the castle ballroom in no time. At these events, you always stuck around with your parents. The awkwardness of being around people that want to kiss you was always a problem. You kept a smile on your face not caring if you were genuine about it or not. Your answers to the questions they asked would be answered with a “Dad, how about you answer first. I’m getting a little thirsty.” and followed by you excusing yourself to get some refreshments. This time you did it again and actually got some water as you felt a small headache was coming your way.

As you took a sip of your drink, a figure from the crowd stood out to you. The mystery person was wearing a classic white uniform suit jacket with gold and black lining and a buttoned up white shirt. The chest area of the suit was filled with medals, some of which of the highest levels of honor. One little accessory that stood out was the little pink butterfly on the collar of the shirt that reminded you of the one that you gave him when he was younger.

“Yeosang!” you called out, to see if it was actually him. If he was here after all those years of not being in touch with each other. The now grown male turned to your direction and flashed the same smile he did, all those years ago.

“Y/N!” He called your name. His voice, now mature and filled with nothing but sweet honey made your heart flip. He willingly ditched the conversation he just now had and opened his arms wide as you both ran towards each other, not wanting to stop any sooner. The crowd opened up into a big area as everyone saw you both heading towards the middle of the room. He caught you as soon as you were held by him and lifted you from the ground. He twirled you around with your hands on his shoulders as you both laughed together. Is this what complete bliss felt like?

He finally placed you back on the marble floor and gave you a proper hug. You heard people clapping but that didn’t matter to you. You just found your best friend. After so many years of living without him. Your tears almost puddled but you decided that the meet-up was too public for crying and you weren't that sensitive. You pulled away and looked at him, scanning his now tall figure.

He certainly had been working out and gotten slightly cuter. This was a whole different Yeosang. You looked back at him and he cocked his head to the side with the familiar ‘wtf-are-you-doing’ face. Nevermind, still the perfect him you knew of. You finally realised what you were doing and a blush blossomed onto your cheeks.

“Sorry-” you said, as your hand covered the bottom half of your face. Since when did you get so flustered around him?

“It’s okay, Y/N/N,” He chuckled softly and looked at how much you’ve grown. You went from the mud-covered fairy to the most beautiful princess ever. However, you blushed a little harder than before when he said your old nickname and took a deep breath to let out the icky feelings. Smiling softly at the male, you initiated an actual conversation.

“I didn’t know you were a knight-” you said, grabbing his medals and looking at them one by one. “How come you’ve never told me?” you crossed your arms with a pout, cheekily.

“Well, first of all, I wanted to make it a surprise. Second, I trained for three years and couldn’t contact you at all,” he stopped for a bit and looked at your face once again. “And lastly, when did you become this pretty?” he said, with a smirk on his face.

You let out a light laugh trying not to let out a big laugh in this type of crowd. “Oh, good one,” you said, wheezing and holding his shoulder before you realised that he meant the unusual compliment. “You- you’re not kidding?” you asked, with an ‘are-you-serious-rn’ face. He nodded.

“Since when did you become such a flirt?” you asked, with a worried look on your face.

He shrugged and chuckled once again. “Don’t be alarmed though, I was just seeing if you would blush again”

“Well no- you flirting seems weird enough already. You flirting with me would be triple the weird. Therefore, no, I would not blush if you were to flirt with me,” you said sophisticatedly. There’s no way you would fall for this wimp.…. right?

Him flirting didn’t stop you both from talking to each other though. You both continued to talk and catch up with everything that happened in the past years. You were very interested in his adventures when he was a knight in training as equally as invested of he was in the stupid mistakes you’ve done during major public events. You decided to show him the castle gardens as they were the best shown at night with mini fairy lights wrapped around the bushes and in the middle of the garden was a circle of just grass that you could lay on that was surrounded by various types of flowers.

As you both got into the circle, the mini orchestra from the main ballroom was on their fifth song that night. You yawned as you were tired from the chit chat and the walking. You really needed some sleep after finishing that one book the night before.

“Hey, I think I should go- my parents are probably looking for me,” you said, not really wanting to leave.

“Not yet,” the handsome male said, extending his hand out to you. ‘This looked familiar’ you thought to yourself as a memory from the depths of your brain came to the surface. Ah, yes. The blurred music would make this hopefully not as awkward as before. “Did you save that dance for me after all this time, princess?”

“Yes, of course,” you said, baffled at the fact that he still remembers it as well.

“Let’s do it the right way this time. Shall we?” Yeosang chuckled before he bowing in front of you. “May I have this dance, Y/N?”

You smacked his head playfully and earned a slight yelp from him. He rubbed the place where you hit the poor fella and asked why.

“It’s Princess Y/N to you,” you said with a humph and placed your palm on top of his. “But yes, you may have this dance, Sir Yeosang.”

He flashed his warm sunny smile like he once did and pulled you in. You both looked into each other’s galaxy filled eyes and stayed in that position for a few seconds before actually moving. His other hand slipped down to your waist as yours held onto his shoulder. Both of you stayed silent during the dance as the atmosphere was already filled with beautiful gold coloured music notes and the faded sound of the crickets in the distance.

The memories of you both start to come back. The summers, autumns, winters, and springs you lived through. The secrets and laughs you shared. The fun play dates you spent together. You’re surprised at how much he matured but one thing you noticed that didn’t change was the smile that he always gave you. The sweet smile that looked like it was going to taste like cotton candy. The sweet smile that would always reassure you that it was going to be okay. The sweet smile that would make you feel as if you just witnessed the full bloom of the first flower in spring,

The music was about to end and you were feeling somber because of it but that didn’t stop you from slow dancing with the brave knight. A little towards the end, he pulled you in closer than ever before but stopped right before touching your lips. He could feel your breath as you did with his. You closed your eyes thinking he would actually do it but as soon as you leaned in, he pulled away. You opened your eyes to see that he bit his bottom lip and red tint spread across his face.

You blushed as well, this time harder than ever before. No boy has made you feel like this - even a prince - and somehow the boy who stood in front of you, the one who would always smother you in mud, the one that would steal your candy, the one that broke your favourite toy made you crazy out of your mind. After just one night with him?

Suddenly, he placed his right hand on your cheek and brushed his thumb over your soft skin. There it is again. That stupid smile. The one that started everything. He kissed your forehead softly before pulling you in for a tight hug that felt more different than the one in the ballroom. You hugged him back, wrapping your hands over his torso.

“I missed you,” he whispered into your ear. “so, so much.”

You wanted to stay in that moment forever. Him being close to you and his arms around you as if you were the most important thing to him. The fairy lights joined the bright stars, twinkling above you both as you shared the best hug. He finally pulled away after a few minutes that felt like nanoseconds to you. You bit your gums, wanting him to do that again. Wanting him to stay for a few more minutes if not hours. Wanting him to realise that you wanted to say something so vulnerable that you don’t just say to anyone else.

But alas, everything comes to an end.

You walked together to the entrance of the castle. Seeing the guests leave was always something so melancholy but now that your childhood best friend is leaving, it made you feel a slight something inside.

Deep inside, Yeosang didn’t want to leave either. He wanted you to tell him to stay. He wanted you to pull him back into the hugged you shared. He wanted you to hold you again and twirl you into the air. He wanted you to realise he still had those feelings for you. He wanted you to finally call him ‘yours’.

“I’ll see you soon?” he asked, in a soft voice.

“Yea, definitely,” you answered, trying not to spare another word.

“Well. Goodbye, princess,” he said. The male waved to you, as you did to him before getting into his car. A giddy smile appeared on his face as he thought of something that would tease you.

“Hey Y/N!” he called out, from the backseat of his car. You looked at him with a confused face from a distance.

“Je t'aime.”

With that his car exited the main gates and the thought of you filling his mind. He let out a little laugh, positive that you didn’t know what the phrase meant.

But you have learned about the foreign language over the years. Enough to know that it meant, “I love you.”

#ateez #ateez oneshots #ateez fluff #ateez edits #ateez au #ateez yeosang #yeosang au #yeosang #yeosang fluff #yeosang angst #yeosang edits #yeosang x reader #ateez x reader #yeosang x you #ateez x you #this is bad ik pls don't come for me #alachi mind puke

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xueyangs-pinky-finger · 3 years

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oh so i watched cats yesterday...

first of all, we had to pay $16.50 for it bc it’s not available to rent anywhere bc they know this is the kinda thing people only wanna watch one time, so that’s already pretty vomit-inducing...

and you expect the cats to look awful and they do but it’s bad for so many other reasons?? it just fails in every way imaginable...

they didn’t seem to give any thought to the scale of the cats; they’re way too tiny in comparison to the people items we see them with, and the mice are then somehow way smaller to the point where they’re the size of like one cat finger?? and the cockroaches are the same size as the mice?? and that ridiculous ratio isn’t even consistent, like the props and everything are just all over the place. (how come ian mckellen’s coat had such large buttons? they can make cat-sized shoes, but not buttons? not to mention they’re still way too small to be human-sized buttons, so again, the inconsistent scaling... who makes the clothes for cats? why do some cats wear clothes inconsistently but others don’t wear clothes at all? taylor swift was completely naked except for a pair of high heels... why make a cat wear heels... have you ever met a cat! they hate wearing clothes, but shoes are even worse. not to mention she only wore them on her feet and not her hands. why do all these cats walk around on two legs, but then suddenly crawl at random times? why did that one cat hand that magician cat his hat with her mouth when she has two perfectly good hands and the cats have all been using their furless human hands to do things for the entirety of the movie??)

... nor did they seem to give any thought to how catlike these “cats” would be. in fact, it rly seemed like no one on the production crew or in the cast had ever had a cat before. or even interacted with one. or even seen one. which i know isn’t true for taylor at least, so what the hell? the way they moved veered between just regular-ass humans walking on two legs and doing ballet and shit (and do not get me started on the hiphop sequence, dear god, their animated legs moving... 🤢), and spider-man climbing up a wall only they were on the ground. neither made sense, neither were catlike. and why did some cats wear random clothing items while others wore none? some wore just shoes... jennifer or someone wore both a coat and something underneath it with neither covering her boobs at one point, so... what was the point of that outfit? what’s it doing for you at that point? and how come they didn’t give more cats colored contacts or cgi eyes?? only idris elba had cool green eyes, and everyone else just had regular human eyes, mostly just brown. i have three cats, and none of them have brown eyes. in fact, i just looked it up, and no cats have brown or black eyes. and i’m pretty sure miss white kitty victoria should have blue eyes~ (if they were blue, it wasn’t noticeable. idris elba’s eyes were an obvious, intense, clearly fake green, and i wanted more of that honestly.)

it’s so gross in multiple definitions of the word? firstly, there’s the trash scene, which... was just way grosser than it needed to be. & there’s rebel wilson eating human cockroaches, which was also very upsetting to watch and to hear the crunch,,, and the other aspect of it is the sexual energy?? which was just ever-present between every combination of characters, and actually left me confused as to who the main ship (🤮) was supposed to be for a while. why... dear god why... what the fuck were they insinuating lapping up milk in jason derulo’s number in the context of all the girls liking him...

oh that’s another thing. they made sir ian mckellen lap up water or something out of a bowl. it was completely unnecessary and added nothing to the story... so that was A Choice.

twice they had rebel wilson unzip her fucking skin to reveal a show biz outfit underneath, which is horrific enough on its own, but the way there was a huge gap between her chest and the boob cups of her dress?? it’s like okay... you already just let all the female cats have boobs and walk around naked for the entirety of the movie. but letting rebel fill in a dress is too much? that’s where you draw the line?? maybe don’t give her a dress with boob cups then!! it’s just sticking out in front of her and it looked awful... lol speaking of awful. the way they edited their ears through their hats... i’ve seen better work done in catboy edits on tumblr. and if y’all can’t do it then maybe just don’t. just consider not. doing that. it’s like they kept writing themselves into corners or not thinking things through or something. when will you learn that your actions have consequences!!!

they only had the cats show affection one way, and that was by like rubbing their faces together, and i know they did that in the musical too but god it just makes me so uncomfortable... i’d rather they just straight-up made out with their disturbingly human mouths. but it was rly confusing bc you’d see the “main” character victoria do that with her love interest (who was perhaps the most ugly hybrid... he didn’t even look like a human or a cat; he invented a new category and hopefully is the only one in that category forever), so you’re like ‘ok, this is how cats kiss’ or something. but they all do it. victoria did the same thing with dame judi dench! (i rly thought this movie was just gonna end with a big ole orgy, honestly.) so it’s not kissing, it’s more like hugging? but then we literally saw two cats hug each other with their human arms at one point i’m pretty sure... so wtf?!

jennifer hudson always had snot on her face?? like her nose was running, a lot of the time the snot would actually be on her lips, like... that’s the only way they could think of to show her emotions?? sometimes they weren’t even tears, it was literally Just Snot.

the songs weren’t fun at all. they were completely devoid of energy, so to have everyone dance to them didn’t even work or make sense. they’d pause in the middle of songs a lot (e.g. to make jokes about james corden being fat wow so funny hahaha) and ruin any momentum they might’ve otherwise had. a lot of the time they weren’t even singing so much as talking or whispering or chanting with a faint bgm playing over it.

the fatphobia, oh my god. rebel wilson and james corden’s characters only existed for the movie to make jokes about them being fat and eating a lot and have them do awful slapstick.

the main character had no personality at all and didn’t even have her all-important cat name at the end of the movie, which rly shows how much she mattered... yeah she got jennifer hudson sent up into the heavens to either be reborn or just fucking die up there bc how would they know this process actually works? but that’s it. otherwise she just got swept from side character to side character and adapted whatever traits they possessed for the duration of their song.

not only were all the cats way too sexual (i rly think watching actual straight-up porn would be less graphic and disturbing than watching whatever gross fetish this movie exists to cater to), not only did they seemingly make a cum joke (that was the only time they drank milk in the movie! when they were all trying to get with jason derulo! who, btw, is just a nasty person which made it all the more gross to watch), they also... slut-shamed jennifer hudson? and all did drugs, some against their will, in another very uncomfortable, sexually charged sequence. so like what is this movie rated actually and who is it for?? why make a children’s movie with such adult themes? but then, what adult would laugh at james corden being too heavy to get catapulted into the air (followed by him landing on his balls, because humor!)?

taylor swift can’t do a british accent.

lastly, cats have eight nipples. so, to loosely quote danny gonzalez: if you’re gonna give them boobs, at least give them the right amount of boobs.

thus ends my review. please don’t watch this dumpster fire.

(i think this gif clearly shows many of the problems i had with this movie... the sexual energy, the boob cups and shitty cgi, jason derulo... dear god make it stop.)

#sorry for this impromptu movie review but i can’t not share my thoughts on what i just witnessed...#long post #cats (2019)#my posts #text posts #january 2021 #also yes i am clearly late to the party but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯#would also like to add that i find it very disturbing that macavity has apparently broken EVERY HUMAN LAW?!#which means that cat’s done some real fucked up shit...#imma be real generous and pretend i didn’t see that one cat do a fucking hand heart

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khaoticallykat · 4 years

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◇The Prince and The Punk◇

Paring: College AU!Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Summary: You and Ransom never seen eye to eye, during one class in high school you let him know how you really feel and from there it was pranks and bullying all on you. Until you finally went to college, forgetting all about Ransom until you happen to encounter him again, this time at his grandfather's, the famous novelist, Harlan Thrombey. With a research paper that needs to be done to make the grade, are you gonna put up with Ransom's shit?

Warnings: language, bullying.

Word count: 1.7k

A/N: omgggg this is my first time actually formatting a story for Tumblr and I just hope y'all like it. There's gonna be smut but that's wayyy later and maybe in a mini chapter. Thanks for reading 💖

Chapter 1. The Writing Writer

~Flashback~

You drummed your finger along the desk, pissed off and annoyed as you watch Ransom Drysdale, yes, him. The richest kid in school and the biggest piece of shit you've ever laid your eyes on. He was actually an alright guy, for the most part, but you you see beyond his pretty blonde hair, blue eyes and fake smile. He was made to look like an angel, one of those sculptures you see in Italy. He was flirting with your friend as all three of you sat at a table in science class, he has a girlfriend but almost every girl he flirted with, including you, but you harshly turned that off.

"Aw come on Lexi, you're so smart, just help me out?" He blinked his ocean blue eyes at her, she giggled and smiled, about to slide her paper over to him until you grabbed her hand.

"Lexi, don't you think Ransom should have been paying attention to the lesson rather than making goo goo eyes at you?" You asked, gritting your teeth.

"Aw Y/n, I can help him out, it's no big deal." She smiled, you loved her, you really did but even she was falling into the spell of Ransom.

"Yeah Y/n. She doesn't mind, but yet," he looked over at you, it sparked more a hatred in you, "yet you, seem to really mind me? What is it? You like me don't you? Want me all to yourself?"

You sighed, giving him a deadpan expression, "I rather eat razors and then shit them out, you're shitty and annoying and a fake." His smile dropped, Lexi covered her mouth, either in shock or to stifle a laugh. "You act like you're such a king here, having everyone bend to your whim but who are you really? You're a trust fund playboy and I really hope you don't breed, we already have enough shitheads like you in the world."

Everyone in the room was looking at you, clearly you weren't aware of your tone, even the teacher looked shocked.

But Ransom, deep down he should have hated you, but instead, he laughed. He laughed so loud and hard that his was was beet red and tears came down.

"Wow," he chuckled, catching his breath, "fuck you."

From then senior year was filled with Ransom knocking books out of your hand, spilling various liquids on you, thankfully it was tea, water or coffee, he even went as far as cling wrapping your car before homecoming started. You paid him no mind though, you were really good at that, ignoring him and going on about your day, your mom always said that children act out when they want attention and that was one thing you would never give him. He noticed just how much you really didn't care for him, it made him angry, he spent almost every day finding something to inconvenience you and you just brushed him off like dust.

He cornered you in a back room in the photo lab one day after school, you were cleaning up and helping out when the Jock pushed you in a closet, closing the door behind him.

"Oh great. My favorite person." You rolled your eyes, "get out of my way, I have stuff to do."

"You're not going anywhere," He growled, he smelled of sweat and dirt, he must have came from training. "You and I need to talk."

You sighed, shifting in the tight space that Ransom took up, "well I'm listening, but hurry up you stink."

"You're really good at ignoring me, just wondering how and why?"

"You mean how haven't I giving in to your antics? Because you're a child, you act like one and I don't pay attention to boys that act like children," You heard him punch the wall next to you, "just let it go Hugh, sometimes you can't get all the girls to suck you off."

You smirked and ducked under his arm, opening the closet door to see Ransom's two friends, Sam and James sitting on the desk across from the closet. They made eye contact with and quickly looked away, it was clear that they were uncomfortable with the situation. You packed your bag and left, leaving Ransom in the closet to deal with the fact that you just called him by his first name.

"You alright in there man? What'd she do, spit on ya?" James called from the desk.

Sam got up and dragged him out, "come on, don't let some chick ruin the rest of your senior year, after this, we got college girls to look at."

"You're right," Ransom laughed, "I can't fucking wait."

~Present~

After high school, you never saw Ransom, he was basically out of sight, out of mind. College was rolling around and you picked your major of psychology, you were lucky that the town had a college and it was easy to get into. You spent your first few months taking the classes required and studying, your teacher reminded you that the final paper was due months from now, to write a report on a literary author of the time. They assigned everyone an author, when your name came up, you got the author, Harlan Thrombey. The last name rung a bell in your head, but you couldn't tell why. Leaving class you notice many people were in the college colors. Right, football season. You saw some sororities gathered in the parking lot cheering, you didn't want to be part of any of them. You were almost to your car when you remembered why the last name Thrombey sounded so familiar.

Ransom Drysdale was on the back of a pickup cheering and laughing with other guys in their football jerseys, he soon forgot about you after high school. But through his dark, gold rim glasses, he saw you, the same as ever, he was really shocked to see that you even stayed in town, you were really smart, not that he would admit it. Stepping off the back of the pick up, he made his way towards you, you were walking at a fast pace, trying to get to your car before he could catch up and torment you. Ransom saw you get in your little grey Volkswagen and slam the door, locking it behind you. The engine stalled a few times before it finally came to life. Ransom was just getting to your car when you quickly pulled out, almost hitting him. You paid no attention to the speed until you reached the first green light off campus. Taking a deep breath, you looked in your rear view and chuckled, it was childish, but you were glad to get away.

Thankfully it was Friday and you wouldn't see him until Monday, throwing your bag on the floor, you sat at your desk fuming. If all places, why does Ransom Drysdale have to be in the same college as you? You opened your laptop and began looking up Harlan Thrombey, he thankfully had an email, writing out who you were, the nature of your email and a few other things, you clicked the 'send' button and waited.

Later that evening while you were reading, your phone pinged, showing you that there was an email from Harlan. He wrote back that he would be glad to have you over to study his work for your research paper and asked if you could come over Saturday. Doing a small dance of happiness in your room, you replied that you'll be there at noon.

The next morning you wore something that would look rather business casual, most of your clothing was on the darker side so it was easier to match items and stopped in town at the local donut shop before heading to Harlan's. Pulling up you saw a white BMW, the kind that was vintage, it probably ran better than your car double checking your bag once more for your notebook, tablet and charger, you locked your car and walked up to the brick manor. The place was absolutely gorgeous as you took a moment to wonder what the inside would look like. Suddenly two blurs came running up to you barking and sniffing, one was a black lab and the other a German shepherd. They both sat down and looked at the box of donuts you were carrying.

"Sorry, I didn't get anything for you," you frowned, slowly backing towards the steps, "maybe next time."

You rung the doorbell and waited, the dogs followed you and waited by you patiently with their tails wagging. A young woman opened the door, she looked about your age with dark brown hair and bright eyes, "you must be y/n," she smiled, the dogs rushing in almost knocking her over, "Harlan told me you were coming, I'm his nurse, Marta." She lead you into the house which wasn't bare in any area, there were decorations on covering the walls, either with paintings, books, it some strange artifacts. You followed her to the library where you saw Harlan, all grey hair but eyes were full of life.

"Ah, you must be Y/n," he said, turning his attention away from a man that sat in a chair, facing away from you, "I was just talking to my grandson about you, how he should be doing his homework but instead, he's talking of football and girls."

"It's nice to meet you mr. Thrombey," you smiled, walking over to him, "I brought donuts."

The man in the chair stood up, "I know that voice," he turned around, same damn smirk on his face like it was permanent, "ah, of course it's you, my favorite person."

God damned Ransom Drysdale.

You looked like a deer in head lights, "what the hell are you doing here?" You asked, taking a step back.

"Visiting my grandpa?" He said, "bring those donuts over here, I'm starving."

You thought it was a sick joke, but you can see it, the tiny resemblance between Ransom and Harlan. But here you are, trapped in a house with you high school bully. He made his way over to you and opened the box, he was still the same, no respect for personal space.

"I saw you yesterday, but you left," he took one of the chocolate covered ones, "me and you got a lot of catching up to do."

#knives out #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #kat writes #TP&TP #The Prince and The Punk

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captcas · 4 years

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Worth Fighting For (10/?)

WORTH FIGHTING FOR by capthammKillian

“Hook” Jones is a dominate up and comer in the UFC while Emma “The Savior” Swan’s career was cut short. When Hook’s manager moves up and the office brings in UFC’s youngest legend to keep him in check, will either of them be able to handle it?

read on ao3 // tumblr: ch 1/ ch 2 / ch 3 / ch 4 / ch 5 / ch 6 / ch 7 / ch 8 / ch 9 [Chapter 10/?]

She and Killian spend most of the day before early prelims just lounging in the hotel room and Emma honestly couldn’t have asked for anything better. Before she knew it, Killian was opening the door of the car Regina arranged for them and she was sliding into the backseat. She pulls out her phone as Killian walks around the back of the car and gets in next to her. Looking at him would cause a world of problems, so she keeps her eyes trained on her phone. When he walked out the bathroom fully dressed for the night, Emma had to physically stop herself from staring. He was in dark jeans and a deep blue button up– she calls it that generously. Honestly, does the man know how buttons work? The tuft of chest hair sticking out the top left more than enough for her imagination, and Emma was left trying desperately to think of another man who had this effect on her.

The answer is none.

It didn’t happen instantly, like she knows it did for Ruby who talked about “jumping his bones” two minutes after meeting him, but the more time Emma spent with Killian the more she found herself thinking about him in ways a manager should definitely not be thinking about her client. Sure, she knew he was attractive– anyone with eyes can see that– but the want to be with another person has always happened later for her. Emma supposes her lack of one night stands and overall abhorrence to being hit on are shining examples of how she moves about life.

With Killian it’s different.

She kissed him.

Emma had almost forgotten that detail. Not the kiss– because how could she. Emma had all but ignored the fact that she initiated it. It’s so unlike her– that want– but with Killian it comes naturally. She hazards a glance to her left and sees him looking at her quizzically. When he catches her gaze he speaks up, “Something the matter, Swan?”

She shakes her head and turns to look out the window. Maine is largely boring, mostly just trees and the occasional billboard, but the landscape is safer than Killian’s worried look. He eventually speaks up, breaking the forced silence, “Look, Swan, I know you’re nervous about the press, but really it’ll be alright, I’ll see to it–”

“I don’t need you to protect me.” It comes out sharper than she wants it to, a mix of nerves about the press and about the man next to her bubbling to the surface. Emma refuses to look in his direction.

“Aye, love. I’m well aware.” He gives her one last glance before unlocking his phone and spending the rest of the car ride in silence.

They arrive at the arena, the car pulling up to the backdoor so they can enter without too much drama. Emma recognizes a few of the security guards, giving them tight smiles as she passes. Killian remains close, but slightly behind her. She doesn’t blame him for avoiding her, she’d do the same if roles were reversed, but that doesn’t make it hurt less. She turns around to find him walking with what can only be described as a swagger.

That’s when it hits her. Killian isn’t avoiding her at all– the Killian she knows isn’t here– this is Hook.

She snaps out of her shock thanks to a high-pitched voice, “Hook!” Emma’s head snaps to look at whoever is calling for Killian and is unable to stop her eyeroll.

She hears Hook speak from behind her, “Ahhh, lady Bell. Fancy seeing you here, Tink.” He walks past her as he approaches Tina “Tinker” Bell– in Emma’s opinion the worst ringname in the league. Tina practically throws herself at Killian as he kisses her knuckles in greeting, but it’s the blush that grows across Tina’s face that sends Emma over the edge.

“Were you– are you– did you two?” The words are out of her mouth before she can stop them, but as Tina’s stare levels with Emma’s, she stands her ground all the same.

Then Killian opens his big mouth, “Perhaps.” He’s grabbing his belt buckle and doing something absolutely stupid with his tongue. Emma shoots him a look before turning back to Tina.

“I’m Emma, Emma Swan. Killian’s new manager.” She sees the sparkle return to Tina’s eyes at the mention of their professional relationship and Emma can’t help the bubbling of jealousy in her stomach.

“I know who you are, Savior. Shame we couldn’t get more acquainted in the ring before you quit.” It takes everything in Emma not to introduce Tink to her fist. “I should be going anyway. I’ll see you later, Hook. I’m at the Hampton.” She winks and Killian smirks as she walks away.

Disgusting.

. . .

Emma mumbles for Killian to follow her as they find their seats and his stomach is in knots. He knew being anything other than Hook with Tina would be poor for his public image, but he didn’t expect it to have such an effect on his “Emma” image. It doesn’t sit right with him for the entire round of early prelims and when she leaves for the bathroom during intermission he’s at a loss. He decides to ease up on the persona a bit while she’s away, even ordering two beers and a bag of popcorn, but as Emma returns, he never gets the chance. Before he can so much as apologize for his behavior, Tina is sliding into the seat next to him chatting his ear off about her upcoming fight. He doesn’t even turn to look at her, opting to stare lasers into the side of Emma’s head hoping she gets all the telepathic messages he’s sending her way.

She doesn’t look up from her phone once. Not as the lights dim and Tina heads back to her seat, not as the entrance music starts, and even as the fight begins, her eyes are trained on her phone.

Fuck.

The first fight is a knock-out in practically record time leaving a longer break before the second fight begins. Taking this as a sign, Killian starts to turn towards Emma when she rounds on him first. “Honestly, Jones, what the fuck was that?”

He deserves this– that doesn’t mean he wants to do it here.

“Can we head into the concourse, love?” She looks like she’s about to say no, but shocks him when she nods slowly and starts to get up from her seat. He walks behind her with all the outward swagger of Killian “Hook” Jones but all the inward confidence of a kid caught smuggling candy bars in the grocery store. As soon as she hits the concourse hallway she veers left into a small alcove and whips towards him. She doesn’t speak.

Here goes nothing, Jones.

. . .

He scratches behind his ear and as infuriated with him as she is, she has to force herself not to smile– she makes him nervous. “Lo– Swan, I have a reputation…”

Of course he does. She’s not sure why she cares, but jealousy flairs up inside her again. Suddenly she’s finding it very difficult to look him in the eye. Emma goes to turn away, but he grabs her elbow forcing her to look at him again. “...and I assure you that’s all it is. I am well aware what a mess actually sleeping around can cause– especially for my manager– and, to be quite frank, Swan, I’m not all that interested in ladies who throw themselves at me.” He wiggles his eyebrows, fully aware of the double meaning that holds.

Emma is actively willing her face to remain neutral as she responds, “Tina didn’t seem to think it was that fake of a reputation.” She knows that accusation will sting, but he sort of deserves it… right?

Killian scrubs his hand over his face, clearly warring with what to say next. He sighs before he speaks again, “Swan, I promise you nothing has happened between Tink and I despite her ever present attempts to do so. Nothing has ever happened between me and another fighter– female or otherwise.” He says it with such sincerity that Emma feels a lump in her throat. She can’t let him know that his admittance means more to her than simply warding off a PR nightmare.

“As long as you’re sure… I need to know your skeletons, Jones. I can’t have something unearthing right before your fight that I wasn’t aware of.” She’s being vague on purpose, not sure Killian is the type of man to really have skeletons– he seems like more of a “wear it on your sleeve” sort of guy. That’s precisely why Emma does not expect the immediate change in the atmosphere surrounding them. He nods tightly, before giving her a forced smile.

“Noted, love.” When she smiles at him promptly ending their “fight”, his smile turns genuine and she realizes once more just how handsome he is. Killian looks like he’s about to speak when the entrance music for the next fighter starts and they both jump, breaking whatever moment they were having. He scratches behind his ear again– it’s honestly unfair how adorable that is– and speaks up, “Shall we venture back to our seats?”

She nods and takes his hand– when did that start being a thing she just does – leading them back to their seats.

. . .

The rest of the night is largely uneventful, the crowd is subpar and the fights are pretty standard. Killian can’t find it in himself to care. Emma has been chatting up a storm about anything and everything and he’s entranced by her passion for all things UFC and just for life in general. Despite the card being largely disappointing, he’ll be the first to say it was one of the most entertaining nights he’s had in awhile. As soon as the tension between them left– the reputation talk finally out of the way– Emma didn’t seem to mind when he would have to flip between Killian and Hook, even cracking a few jokes about Jekyll and Hyde.

Maybe they could do this.

By the time the main event is over, neither of them are the wiser, far too engrossed in a conversation about which stadium has the best popcorn– if he had only known… popcorn . She chuckles when he makes her aware of the rest of reality despite his intense desire to stay in this comfortable bubble they’ve created over the last four hours.

As they stand to leave, Killian spots a hoard of paparazzi out of the corner of his eye. He feels Emma tense besides him, the same overwhelmed feeling clearly passing over her.

“Hook!” “Killian Jones!” “Emma! A word quickly please!”

Killian stands and notices a physical shift in Emma. The bright smile turns into a professional grin as she turns to command the room, “Mr. Jones will take three questions and three questions only so make them good. I know you all have time to fill but Hook is here to enjoy his evening, not chat with you.”

Emma taking control of the situation is no surprise to him, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t absolutely stunning to watch in real time. The reports immediately simmer down, holding out their mics towards him waiting for him to speak– not him… not the real him anyway. As he shakes out his shoulders and slips into the very persona he had hoped to finally table for the night, he sees a flash of panic behind Emma’s eyes and he’s never hated the UFC more. He gives her a soft reassuring smiling before turning to the crowd.

“Hello, mates. What’d you like to know?” Smirk.

Emma points to a shorter woman in the back, calling her by name, “Jasmine.”

“Yes, thank you Sav- Miss Swan. Mr. Jones, how do you feel about the breaking announcement that your upcoming fight will be against ‘The Fire’ Neal Cassidy?”

Killian’s first thought is “Who is Neal Cassidy?”, but when he turns to look at Emma and the color drains from her face, all he can think is, “Who is Neal Cassidy... to Emma?”

#captain swan ff #Captain Swan #emma swan #killian jones #CS modern AU #worth fighting for #capthamm

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is0gild · 4 years

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Ice Cream and Fire Oven Pizza - Chapter 15

Pairing: Elsa x Lea/Axel || Side Pairing: Riku x OC

Summary: Modern AU. She's an introvert ball of nerves who works at Ice Palace, a mall food court ice cream shop. He's the outgoing, sassy goofball who works at the Pizza Planet across the way. Hilarity, snark, and fluffy romcom hijinks ensue.

Word Count: 10,487

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

Credit for super friggin’ cute and super friggin’ amazing cover art goes to the super friggin’ talented ky-jane here on tumblr!

So... last time on The Burning Wreckage That Is My Life (please excuse the working title).

I had a crush on a guy. Well, maybe… I mean, I think I did? But I couldn't let him know that I had a crush on him. And just to make things extra complicated, I now had to act like we were dating when we really weren't. So basically… I like-liked him but had to pretend that I didn't like-like him while at the same time pretending that I did like-like him.

Confused yet? I know I was.

Also, I really needed to stop using the word like-like.

Ugh, what had I been thinking? This was a terrible plan. A disaster just waiting to happen. There was no possible way it could end well. And yet, here I sat in my apartment, watching the clock as I waited for my fake boyfriend to come pick me up. What was the matter with me? What had possessed to ever say yes to this… this insanity?

I had gotten off work not too long ago and had come straight home to prepare for my meetup with Father. This was Lea's day off, so I hadn't had to start this whole farce of a relationship around the mall today, which at least was one small comfort. My fingers as per usual were fidgeting with my freshly washed and plaited hair as I watched the seconds slowly tick by, my stomach twisting into tighter and tighter knots.

Sighing, I forced my hands to stop fussing with the braid and they complied… only to start picking at the flaps of the empty cardboard box Rayne had scrounged up for me to put things from my old place into. With a tiny scowl, I shoved my hands into my lap, demanding they be still. That lasted maybe all of two seconds before they started fiddling and twisting at the buttons that ran all the way down the front my navy corduroy overalls dress. The long sleeved shirt I wore underneath it was off the shoulder and white with blue horizontal stripes. The dress itself fell all the way down to my ankles, with a slit up to the knee on one side, giving a peek of my snowflake-patterned tights.

Yes, I was a full grown adult who still liked cutesy prints on my socks and stockings. So sue me.

Erg, where was he? As much as I was dreading seeing Father again and wished I didn't have to deal with it at all, the wait was killing me. And I couldn't put it off forever so I'd rather just get this awfulness over with already. I-

"Hello, Lea?" I heard Rayne's voice and I whipped my head around to spot her stepping out of her bedroom, smartphone pressed to one ear. She shot me a grin but then it faded as she glanced away with a squint. "Whaddya mean you're down in the parking lot? Get your ass up here and knock on the door like a goddamn gentleman, you-"

In the space of a heartbeat, I'd zoomed across the room to snatch the phone from her. "I'll be right down, see you in a sec!" I said quickly into it and, not waiting for a reply, hung up the call before Rayne could steal her phone back.

"Hey!" she huffed, fumbling to catch the device as I tossed to her. Then she gave a tiny whine, "But sweetpea, that's no way for him to treat a lady! I expected better of him!"

I rolled my eyes as I returned to the table to grab the box by one of its flaps. "I told him to just call up when he got here."

Rayne followed behind me with a tiny pout. "But I wanted to practice my whole 'What are your intentions towards my daughter' speech on him!"

"And that," I smirked, tapping her on the nose with my free hand, "is exactly why I told him to call."

Puffing out her cheeks, she crossed her arms. "You're no fun!"

"Ouch. Your words, they wound me. But somehow, someway… I think I'll live," I deadpanned, making my way over to open the front door.

"Oh! Curfew's at ten! Not one minute later, missy, not one second or you're grounded!"

I paused to turn back and droop my eyelids at her. "...too far, Rayne. Too far." Then I left, slamming the door shut behind me.

That woman, I swear. Loved her to pieces, but the sooner that baby was out of her, the better. Then she could focus all of that crazy on her new bundle of joy instead of me.

As I hurried down the steps, I went over the game plan in my head again. It'd been another sleepless night last night as I'd mentally prepared myself for Operation Boyfriend But Shh Not Really. That's right, I'd named it. Come on, it's me, how could I not? It was the only way I could feel like I had any sort of control over this whole situation. Which I one hundred percent did not. But I needed to try and trick myself into believing that I did if I had any chance of staying sane through all of this.

This being Lea and me. Pretending to be boyfriend and girlfriend. And boyfriends and girlfriends did… things. No, not that! Definitely not that, that would be going well above and beyond the call of duty! Yeesh, get your mind out of the gutter! I only meant like, ya know… holding hands, hugging… other various public displays of affection that shall remain nameless because I quite simply could not deal with even the mere thought of such things without my face bursting into flames.

But I was going to have to deal if I had any hope of getting through this. And to deal, I needed to face facts. Lea only saw me as a friend. He was only playing along to help me… as a friend. Whatever I was or wasn't feeling towards him, he did not feel the same way. Doing all those aforementioned boyfriend-girlfriend things? Wasn't going to threaten to make his heart explode like it would mine. So if I was going to survive long enough to make it out the other side of this little fiasco, my heart needed to take a chill pill.

Conceal, don't feel. That was going to be my mantra. It was one I was actually already very familiar with and had put to good practice regularly over the years. Rayne had been right. Growing up in my family, feelings had been a luxury. And as the eldest heir to the Fryse fortune, I'd had an image to maintain, the family name to uphold. I hadn't gotten to enjoy the same freedoms Anna had since she'd been born second. Not that I think I could have ever been such a… shall we say, free spirit like her. I'd always been the bundle of nerves on legs that I am. Conceal, don't feel… that'd been the only way I'd been able to maintain the calm, cool mask in front of high society and not be a walking, talking spazz of an embarrassment to my parents.

And now that little motto was what was going to get me through all this.

At least, I hoped so.

Reaching the bottom floor of my building, I stopped just short of the exit, taking a slow deep breath. Then I smoothed my dress, swept my braid forward over one shoulder and gave myself a reassuring nod.

I got this.

With my box still firmly in hand, I pushed open the door and stepped outside into the parking lot where I immediately spotted Lea. He was looking down at his phone, his thumb swiping across its screen every so often while he leaned against what was presumably his car. A (what looked to be) few decades old yet well taken care of muscle car, black and sleek and one of the types named after an animal like viper or cougar or stingray, you know, just to let you know how cool this vehicle really was. It seemed Lea had decided to color coordinate with his ride, for he was dressed in head-to-toe black himself. Beneath the leather jacket that he wore was a fitted tee that simply read Straight Fire in cracked and faded script. His skinny jeans were ripped at the knees and tucked into a pair of tall, combat boots. If possible, his crimson locks seemed even wilder than usual today and he was also sporting a pair of aviator sunglasses.

...I don't got this.

Also, I was staring.

Also, I'd dropped my box.

Jeez, Elsa, get a grip. So what if the guy was gorgeous? We already knew that. Had established it from day one. It wasn't any sort of definitive proof you'd caught feelings or anything. Anyone, anything, even a corpse, even a frigging lamppost would be susceptible to his, er… his charms.

Giving myself a quick shake, I retrieved my box from the ground and walked towards him. His head lifted at the sound of my footsteps and I could feel his gaze on me. Pocketing his phone as I came to a stop in front of him, he then hunched to my eye level, bringing his face closer to mine as he tipped down his shades, revealing his all but trademark winged eyeliner with a wink and a smirk. "What's cookin', good lookin'?"

...okay. There was a slight chance I'd caught feelings.

But psssh, that little flutter in my rib cage could have been anything. Maybe my last meal was disagreeing with me. Yeah, that had to be it.

Remember. Conceal, don't feel.

Squelching the foreign sensation in my chest, I fixed him with a blank stare. "...wow, that the best you got? You really have been out of the game for a while, haven't you?"

With a snerk, he used a foot to push himself up off the car as he straightened up and opened the passenger side door for me. "Nah, s'not that. I'm just going easy on you. Couldn't have you going all weak in the knees on me right before our big date with your dad."

"I think my knees have nothing to worry about," one corner of my lips turned up as I took a seat.

"You say that now, but trust me," he bent towards me, propping an elbow atop the door window and jerking a thumb towards his face, "if I really turned it on, you wouldn't stand a chance, sweet thang, it'd be straight to Swoon City for you!"

I quirked an eyebrow at him, "Did you really just use the terms 'sweet thang' and 'Swoon City' in the same sentence?"

"...yeah, not my proudest moment. Can we forget that ever happened?"

Biting back a grin, I nodded. "I think that'd be in both our best interests. Mostly yours."

"Smart ass," he shook his head with a chuckle, shutting my door and making his way around to the other side of the car.

Okay. Good. This was going well. He didn't suspect a thing. Elsa, Queen of Evasion. Now I only needed to keep up the act for the duration of the ride. A mere one hour road trip to the city of Arendelle. A measly sixty minutes. And really, what was sixty minutes in the grand scheme of things? Hardly a blip in time. This shouldn't be too hard, right?

...then of course there would be when we actually got there and Lea and I'd have to put on a whole other kind of act for Father. Then the hour long trip back. Then the-

Easy there, girl. Just focus on the immediate task before you. One step at a time.

I heard his door open and glanced over, watching him take a seat and buckle himself in. My lips pursed to one side. "...so Halloween come early this year?"

"Huh?" his hand froze just as he'd been about to turn the key in the ignition, head turning my way, eyebrows shooting high above his aviators. Then he looked down at himself, patting at his shirt and jacket. "You don't like it? Crap, do I look like trash?"

I blinked.

Had I really… just made Lea self-conscious? Lea? The guy who'd dragged me up to do karaoke with him? The guy who'd been dancing around like a doofus atop food court tables while lip-syncing to corny glam metal? That Lea? I wouldn't have even thought the word to exist in his vocabulary.

Oh gosh, I must have taken it too far in the other direction. It's 'Conceal, don't feel,' not 'Demean, be mean.'

Hastily, I said, "No, it's not that. I… you look… good." Like, real good… ahem, down girl. I averted my gaze, hoping my face didn't look as warm as it felt. "I just… wasn't expecting it, is all."

"Oh!" he perked up, a tiny smile pulling at his lips now. "Well, I'm supposed to be your dark, bad boy lover, right? Just wanted to make sure I played up the part. Whaddya think, do I look like your parents' worst nightmare or what?"

"That getup is going to leave an impression, that's for sure."

He started up the engine and it roared to life. "Hell yeah! This is how you pick me out of a crowd. I make myself easy to remember. No way your padre's forgetting me anytime soon."

"I doubt anyone's forgetting you anytime soon. Don't think they could even if they wanted to," I snorted, resting my elbow on the window sill and propping my head against my knuckles.

"Never really could just blend and fade into the background. Side effect of being so majestic," his tongue clicked twice and pretty sure there was a wink behind those shades. Then he nodded to the box in my lap as he reversed the car out of its space, "You can just toss that in the back with the others."

"Others?" I looked over my shoulder to the backseat to discover a few just like mine packed in there. "You brought more?"

He shrugged, exiting the lot and turning us out onto the main road. "Well yeah! Just wanted to help in whatever small way I could."

Small way? The guy was already throwing his whole friggin' life out of whack just to basically be my rent-a-boyfriend, for Pete's sake! I hadn't thought it possible for him to help me even more than he already was. And yet, he'd found a way. To be fair, I hadn't planned to take much back from my old condo, so really, the extra boxes weren't totally necessary. But still…

"Thanks, Lea," I gave him a tiny smile as I put mine with the rest of the herd, "you're very thoughtful."

His fingers ruffled his hair as he gave a sheepish laugh. "Nah, it's nothing."

Alright. Two minutes down. Only fifty-eight more to go.

Lord help me.

Remember when I was more hermity? Yeah, those were the days. I wonder whatever happened to those?

Oh, that's right. My sister and my roommate happened.

Brats.

"So…" I began, racking my brain for the next thing to talk about. Ah, small talk. Bane of my existence. "...nice ride. Please tell me you didn't get it just to complete this whole look you're going for."

"Shit, should I have not?" I just stared at him and he snerked, breaking out into a grin, "Nah, I'm just messing with ya. It was my old man's car. Only thing he left me when he kicked the bucket. Well, that and massive debt. Thankfully, the state took that second one off my hands."

That's right. Lea'd been brought up in the foster system. So this now explained why one of his parents had been out of the picture. I frowned, tucking in my bottom lip. "...I'm sorry."

"Why? Got no reason to be," he chuckled, shaking his head. "It was ages ago, I've long since made my peace with it. I'm not broken up about it, trust me."

My eyes drifted from the buildings blurring past us over to him. "What was he like?"

His head shifted slightly towards me for a second before pointing straight ahead again. "Well… he wasn't ever gonna be winning father of the year, that's for sure. Not even runner up or one of those cruddy lil participation ribbons. The guy ODed out when I was six, so take from that what you will." He paused, tapping an index finger to the steering wheel a few times. "...but he did care. Did his best to do right by me. Saïx too, even though he wasn't his kid. The man wasn't a bad guy… he just didn't have his shit together and never really was meant to be a father."

The downward tug at my lips deepened as I lowered my gaze to my hands, folded neatly in my lap. "...can I ask, ah… your mother..."

"Where she fits into all this?" he ventured and I gave a slow nod. "Oh, she makes Pops look like he was a goddamn saint. She's a leech. Just hopping from one sugar daddy to the next, popping out kids she never wanted. Same day we buried our old man, she took Saïx and me out for ice cream after. Handed us some munny and told us to go order and pay while she snagged us a table to sit at. When we turned around a few minutes later, she'd split. Haven't seen her since."

My heart squeezed as I regarded him with wide eyes. "Wow, that… that's just awful. You have no idea where she is at all?"

"Didn't say that now. We actually did some digging into it a few years ago. Turns out she's just a couple states over, shacked up with some new sucker. An orthodontist or something. They're living up the suburbia life with the white picket fence, two-point-five kids, the whole shebang. Guess Saïx and I were just her practice run rejects before she went off and started her real family." He shrugged, "Though maybe she'll eventually skip out on this one too, who knows?"

I tipped my head to one side. "How do you know all that if you haven't seen her?"

"I haven't. Saïx has." He stopped at a red light, flicking on his turn signal. Then his hand was rubbing at the nape of his neck. "...she did try to reach out to me once. Last year. Left a voicemail saying something about wanting to reconnect or some bullshit. I deleted it. Couldn't of been all that serious 'bout it, seeing as how she hasn't tried again since. Probably just a halfhearted attempt to ease her pathetic excuse for a conscience before washing her hands of it and calling it a day."

My eyebrows met in a peak before I looked away again, fingers absently toying with my braid. He was talking so calmly about it all, so casually. As if he were discussing nothing more interesting than the weather. It made it harder for me to figure out an appropriate response in a situation that I was already so completely socially ill-equipped to deal with in the first place. Should I be just as laid back about it as he was? No, that felt insensitive. Should I express pity? Absolutely not, he'd probably hate that…

Seriously, what do?

How do you people?

"Alright," his voice broke through my thoughts, "you're up for sharing time." The light changed green and he pressed down on the gas pedal, turning us onto the highway entrance. "Why'd you do it? Go all Runaway Bride on your big day?"

I was relieved that he (whether knowingly or not) had saved me from having to come up with something to say to his tragic backstory. Even if this did mean I had to now talk about myself, which usually would have been just as anxiety-inducing of an experience. But somehow, right here, right now, talking to Lea... the idea didn't seem as uncomfortable as I normally would've expected it to be.

Twisting the tip of my braid around one finger, I mulled over it for a few silent seconds. Finally, I said, "It… he and I… we just weren't… right. I thought we were. He thought we were. My parents and his parents certainly thought we were. And I didn't want to disappoint them, so I just kept telling myself that everything was as it should be. That he and I made sense. But we didn't. Not really, not… in my heart. We just…"

"You didn't love him," he said simply, and I winced. As if I'd done something wrong. Then I nodded. "And it took you getting within a stone's throw of saying 'I do' to realize that?"

"Well," I frowned up at the ceiling, "...I'd always heard that love takes time. So I think a part of me was just waiting for it to happen. Waiting for… I don't know… that moment where it'd just hit me, that moment of just… 'oh wow! So that's what this is supposed to feel like' or something. I thought maybe… maybe our first kiss. Or maybe by our first anniversary. Or maybe when he proposed to me. Or maybe when I was trying on gowns or looking at venues with him. But then, suddenly, it was our wedding day and it struck me that still… nothing. And if it I wasn't feeling it after being together for five years, that I probably was never going to. That's when the panic set in and… well…"

"Let me guess. That's when the legendary Phonebook Heist occurred," one corner of his lips twitched up.

I breathed a soft laugh. "Yeah. Had to ditch the big poofy dress. And I used the phonebook to track Rayne down, since she wasn't listed under her full name in it."

A snort escaped him. "Ever thought of this crazy lil thing all the kids are doing nowadays called writing things down on a post-it? I know, wild right? It's new, maybe ya haven't heard of it."

"I was a bit stressed and not exactly thinking clearly in that moment," I bit back a grin, giving his arm a gentle shove.

"Gee, I wonder why," he said wryly as he shifted lanes. "Still curious as to why you felt like you had to run away. Couldn't you have just called the wedding off?"

"You make it sound so easy," my lips twisted sourly. "If it were, do you think I would have let Rayne rope us into going along with this crazy plan of Anna's and hers? You don't know my parents. They… have a way of getting what they want. No one says no to them. In their world, things are done a certain way. Always have been, always will be, end of discussion."

"Their world?" one of his eyebrows arched. Then something clicked. "That's right, you're loaded."

I shook my head, "My parents are, not me. Not anymore, anyway. Not unless you think I'm scooping mall ice cream at minimum wage just for kicks."

"What, you don't have a trust fund or something?"

"No, I do. Or rather… I did. I'm not sure anymore, really, not after everything I've done. Mother and Father control it and can make sure I never see a cent of it now. Not that I think I even want it anymore," I sighed, eyes downcast as I rubbed my elbow. "I really… have no idea what to expect at this point. How this whole meeting with Father will go. What he'll say or do or… I'm just… terrified."

I felt an unexpected warmth on my shoulder and I glanced over to find Lea's hand resting there. He gave it a small squeeze and smiled, "It'll be okay, El. Everything'll work out, you'll see. You'll get through this. And I'll be there to help any way I can, capisce? Now buck up," he lightly nicked my chin with his knuckle before gripping the steering wheel again. "Gonna need you to bring your A-game here if we're gonna fool your old man. Do a real good job and there's an ice cream with your name on it when we get back to Twilight Town."

One side of my mouth tugged up. "Don't you still owe me ice cream for helping you study?"

"And I still plan to make good on that once I've finally nailed down your fave. Speaking of," he paused with a low hum. "...Aloha Ohana?" My lips parted but he was already shaking his head, "Nope, too chunky. You like your desserts like you like your men," he waggled his eyebrows, "smooth."

My grin twitched wider. "Oh, really? And how would you know?"

"Isn't it obvious? Cuz I'm yo man," he jabbed a thumb into his chest.

"...and you think you're smooth?"

"As silk, baby!"

I hid my growing smile behind my fingers. "You're a dork is what you are… but a sweet dork."

He chuckled. "Maybe. But don't tell anyone. I got my bad boy reputation to maintain."

"Your secret is safe with me."

Somehow I was now getting the feeling that this little road trip of ours?

Maybe wasn't going to be as bad as I'd originally thought.

"Whatcha think? Too much?"

I glanced over at Lea. Sunglasses now perched atop his head, he returned my gaze, looking away from using his rear view mirror to help him up his guyliner game. The makeup pencil in his hand lifted from his cheek where he'd been applying what looked to be an upside down teardrop mark just beneath his right eye.

I snerked and wrinkled my nose slightly.

Lea huffed out a tiny laugh. "Say no more," he reached over, pulling some tissue from the glove compartment and wiping off his cheek.

We'd arrived just a moment ago and had parked on Fjord Boulevard, right in front of my old condominium building. I'd been using that minute to gather myself and work up the nerve to actually get out of the car. If it hadn't already been made abundantly clear, Lea had been using that same minute just as wisely himself.

Inhaling and exhaling slowly one last time, I finally unbuckled my seatbelt, opened my door and stepped onto the sidewalk.

The building before me was tall, imposing, and screamed munny and decadence. I'd never really noticed the sheer air of grandeur about it before, but now it all but smacked me in the face. Gosh, had it really only been about a month since I'd last been here? It felt like eons ago. A whole other lifetime. That girl who'd lived here once upon a time… she hadn't been me. Not really. It almost felt wrong coming back here now. Like I was an imposter. Some sort of usurper. It made my insides shrivel up and it took everything I had not to just jump back into the car and speed away without so much as a backwards glance.

Spotting movement out of the corner of my eye, I turned my head to find Lea standing next to me now, a couple of the smaller cardboard boxes wedged between his arm and side. My hands went to take one from him but he pivoted back a step, shifting them out of my reach as he wagged a finger in my face, "Ah ah! Don't worry about it, I got 'em. Makes me feel all buff and manly." He flexed his free arm.

I gave him a dull look. "...they're empty."

"Shush, let me have this."

My eyelids drooped. "Fine. You're the manliest man to ever man."

"Thank you." Then he gave a tiny mock bow, sweeping one hand out wide towards the building before us, "Lady's first."

Shaking my head, I walked towards the doorman standing in wait beneath the long awning leading to the entrance.

That's right. Doorman. As if this place weren't fancy enough already.

"Welcome back, Miss Fryse," he greeted, pulling the door open for me. "Or, if I may be so bold, Mrs W-"

"No!" I blurted out quickly, eyes wide, palms blurring up in a stop gesture.

Oh gosh, he had no idea I'd ran out on the wedding.

...well of course he didn't! Why would he?

...awkwaaaaard.

"Th-thank you, Cliff," I shakily lowered my hands to clasp in front of me, averting my gaze. "Ah… Fryse, please… if you would."

The man seemed unperturbed. In fact, his face brightened, "Oh, how modern! My missus will be thrilled to hear it. I trust you had a lovely honeymoon?"

And the awkward just kept on coming.

"It… er… " I cleared my throat. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but I'm actually in a small bit of a hurry. I have plans to meet with Father here shortly."

"Ah yes, so he said as well," he nodded before looking past me with a delicate frown. "And would this be the, uh… guest he mentioned would be accompanying you?"

I followed his gaze, glancing over my shoulder to where Lea stood behind me, hooligan incarnate. He clicked his tongue, shooting a finger gun at the doorman. I said, "Yes, I suppose he would b-" the words caught in my throat and I quickly looked back at Cliff. "Wait, so he said?" I echoed. "...is my father here already?"

"Why yes, ma'am, I let him in but a few moments ago."

My heart plummeted into my stomach.

I hadn't expected him to be here before us. I'd thought we would still have a little more time.

But he was here now.

This was happening now.

Like... now now.

And I was so very…

...very…

...NOT ready!

Somehow, I kept it together enough to manage a thanks to Cliff before stepping inside, feeling my knees start to go numb. And somehow, I kept it together while crossing the gilded, marble foyer to the elevators, ignoring the clamminess of my palms. I even somehow kept it together long enough to exchange pleasantries with the lobby attendant there who called the lift down for us before Lea and I stepped onto it and I, with only a slight tremor to my limbs, pushed the button for the top floor.

But the nanosecond those mechanized, mirrored doors slid shut…

"I can't!" My hands shot up, fingers digging into my scalp as I started hyperventilating and pacing, feeling the elevator begin to rise. "I can't go through with this! I can't, I just can't do it! This is crazy, this, this is nuts! How the heck did I ever let them talk me into this?! How?! There's just… just no way! It's not possible, I can't! I can't, I can't, I-"

Lea was suddenly in front of me, gently grabbing my arms and bringing me to an abrupt stop. "Woah now, slow down, El, breathe," he bent down to look me in the eye with concern. "It'll be okay. Trust me on this, you can do this. We can. You just gotta take it one step at a time and breathe, okay? Can you do that for me?"

"But how?! How will it be okay? I have to lie to him! I can't lie, I don't know how! I have no chill! You hear me? None! Zip! Absolutely zero chill! I couldn't even lie to Anna about the Easter Bunny when she was only four years old! Four, Lea. Four!"

"Okay, alright, then just don't think about it as lying. Think about it as…" his lips pursed to the left as his eyes shifted about. Then his face lit up, "...as one of those musicals you like so much!"

"Ah! We should break out into song and dance!" I said excitedly if somewhat desperately.

This is my brain. This is my brain on panic attack.

"...let's call that plan B. But no, I meant more like we're… between numbers right now and that we're acting. You like acting, right? Told me you used to do it all the time at camp, remember?"

"Acting…" I repeated slowly, turning the word over in my mind as some of the tension started to ease from my body.

Yes, acting. Acting technically, technically wasn't lying. Acting I could do.

...maybe.

I frowned at him. "I need a script."

"A script," he blinked. Then he straightened up, tapping a knuckle to his chin. "What about instead… guidelines?"

"Guidelines?" I echoed flatly.

"Yeah, for… ya know…" he pointed back and forth between him and me, "...this. Us. When we're in front of your folks and around the mall. Stuff like, uh..." he cleared his throat, scratching the back of his head, "...PDAs? Do's and don'ts. What's okay and what isn't. Boundaries and whatnot."

...oh.

Oh fudge.

"...you're kidding me… this is only coming up now?!" Recommencing pacing forthwith, now with added braid yanking action. "What's wrong with me, what was I thinking?! We had that whole friggin' car ride here, no, the whole last twenty-four hours and somehow we didn't discuss this already?! Not even once?!"

"El, El, it's okay, we can figure all that stuff out now."

His hand tried to close around my arm again, but I jerked it free. "How? There's no time! Any second, the elevator with chime and those doors will part and we'll have to face him and I'll crack and he'll know and, and, and that's it! Done! Finito! Curtains! It'll all be over before it's even begun and-"

This time he did manage to grab hold of my arm, pulling me to him and wrapping his arms around me in a tight hug. "Shh," he murmured, lightly stroking my hair and resting his chin on my head. He felt so warm as I took shallow, rapid breaths against his chest, inhaling that cinnamon scent of his combined with the oddly soothing smell of leather from his jacket that I was tightly gripping onto. My eyes slowly fluttered shut, my muscles starting to relax again, my panicked heart rate beginning to calm.

This was actually somewhat… kind of nice...

And then it happened.

The elevator chimed. Those doors parted. My eyes snapped open to discover standing there waiting for us on the other side was-

"F-Father!" I gasped, shoving Lea away. "Hi! I mean," I stood up straighter, stepped out onto the new floor, folded one hand over the other just below my waist, and ducked my head slightly, "H-Hello."

...wait.

Did I just…?

Instant mental replay.

-shoving Lea away-

Crud.

Not five seconds in and I was already acting in a most ungirlfriendlike fashion towards my alleged boyfriend.

What'd I tell you? Zero chill. Zilch.

"Elsa," I heard my father say, drawing my attention back to him. He was a tall man with hair the same auburn as Anna's. He looked stiff and rigid in the expensive dark blue suit he was wearing, lips set into a stoic line beneath his thin mustache and green eyes stern as he regarded me. The air felt heavy around us, the long stretch of silence deafening. I was convinced there was no possible way he couldn't hear the jackhammering of my heart against my ribcage while I tried to maintain a cool exterior under his scrutiny. Then finally after what felt like an eternity, he said evenly, "You look well."

I bit down on my lip as I lowered my gaze once more, eyes darting about. "...as do you."

Insert uncomfortably drawn-out pause. Then, "And I presume this would be…?"

He was looking at Lea, standing beside me now with boxes once more lazily propped on his jutted hip. My heart jolted and I started wringing my hands. "Ah… yes… this… this is…"

Just spit it out already!

"...this is boy. He is friend."

I word good.

Alright, take two.

Suppressing my wince, I tried again, "Er, that is to say, this is…" I clenched and unclenched my hands at my sides. "...this is my… my-"

"Lea," he rescued me, introducing himself and offering his hand.

My father just stared at it, expression unreadable, and there was a second - one very long second - where I thought he might not take it. But at last he did, if a touch gingerly, and gave it a curt shake. "A... pleasure, I'm sure."

"Likewise, Pops." He grinned now, "It's fine to call you Pops, right? Might as well get all friendly cuz we're gonna be seeing a lot of each other, no doubt."

Father didn't so much as yank his hand back as retrieve it as quickly as was politely and socially acceptable, his lips tight. "...Mr Fryse will suffice."

Lea just shrugged and grinned wider, taking his own hand back.

And slid it into mine, interlacing our fingers together.

Heart.

Flatlined.

Okay, sure, this really shouldn't have been all that big of a deal. After all, Lea had held my hand before. But that had just been when he'd needed to drag me somewhere. It'd been incidental. This? This was hand holding with purpose. This hand holding was a declaration. This hand holding was up on the metaphorical soapbox with a megaphone and would not be ignored. This hand holding was making a goddamn statement.

This hand holding was causing me to burn bright red.

Conceal, don't feel, conceal, don't feel, conceal, don't feel!

Luckily, Father's narrowed gaze was too focused on said hand holding to notice my face trying to give the plush, deep crimson carpet beneath our feet a run for its munny. After another excruciatingly long second (of which I was beginning to suspect this little visit would be in no short supply of), he whipped around and strode off down the hallway, back ramrod straight and voice taut as he said, "Let's step into your condo now."

"Let's," Lea chirped, following after him.

Still holding my hand.

I stumbled into awkward step beside him, glancing out of the corner of my eye down at where my tingling fingers were intertwined with his. This was no longer necessary… right? I mean, Father wasn't looking at us anymore. So I should just let go, shouldn't I? Yes… yes, I absolutely should. Okay, here we go… letting go now… in three… two… one...

...I wasn't letting go.

I shot my hand a tiny scowl. Fine, you win. Five more seconds, bucko, but that's it.

It remained stubbornly fastened to his. Fifteen seconds.

I rolled my eyes. Ten seconds, but that's as high as I'm willing to go.

...was I seriously haggling with my hand just now?

I'm in desperate need of having my head examined.

It wasn't long before we came to a stop where the hall turned at a corner, Father using a key already in hand to open the door located there. My door. Or rather… what was now formerly my door, I suppose. He walked in first with Lea not too far behind him and me in tow, my hand still in his.

To say the condo we'd stepped into was spacious would be an understatement. The living room alone probably could have fit Rayne's and Riku's apartment in it twice over. It was a corner unit with massive floor-to-ceiling windows leading out onto an expansive balcony overlooking the city and the distant white-capped mountains that surrounded it. With its crystal tables, art deco furniture, and extravagant paintings hanging on the walls, the sitting room was quite picturesque. So pretty, so pristine, so... sterile. Like one of those staged pictures that would be on a website trying to catch the eye of potential buyers. My mother had done the decorating, not I, which was probably why it looked so unlived in. This was more space than I had ever really needed anyway. I'd rarely left my own bedroom when I'd called this place home.

A low whistle blew from Lea's lips as his eyes drifted around the room. "Wow, you really were a princess up in a tower, huh?" He slipped his hand out of mine and I had to ignore how cold and lonely my fingers now felt. Stupid, clingy fingers. "Why don't you two take a minute to catch up while I," he held up the boxes, giving them a tiny shake, "go get started in your room. Which door is it? Bah, nevermind, I'll figure it out."

I blinked. Wait, my room? I didn't know if I was all that comfortable with the idea of someone being in there without me and going through my stuff.

I turned to look at him, opening my mouth to voice my objection. Before I could utter a sound however, his hand cradled the back of my neck, drawing me closer to him and planting a tender kiss to my forehead, sending waves of icy heat rippling all the way down to my toes.

I-

Wha-

Conc-

Don-

Fe-

Con- Co- C-C-Congeal, tone eel!

...wait, what?

Please stand by, Elsa is currently experiencing some minor technical difficulties.

He pulled back, smiling down at me and murmuring, "Have fun, babe." Yup. Those were words alright. Did I understand them? Nope! In fact, I wasn't comprehending much of anything in that second. "Pops," Lea shot my father a two-fingered salute before wandering off down an archway on the far side of the room leading to the rest of the condo.

Father lifted his nose with a sniff, lips pinching almost imperceptibly. "Your… friend is quite the... character."

"Ah… yes. He is," I heard myself replying, surprised that I was able to string more than two words together, bonus points for being in the correct order to boot. Wouldn't have thought it possible, what with my brains having been melted to mush inside the blazing sauna that was currently my face. There was no way Father could miss it this time. Hopefully he just thought I was embarrassed over the impropriety of Lea's forwardness. Not wanting to give him a chance to read too much into it, I hastily asked, "How is Mother?"

"As well as can be expected," he said flatly, folding his arms behind him and shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "...better… since we've had news of you."

I winced, looking down at my feet.

And there it was again. That stifling silence.

There were so many things unsaid hanging in the air between us. A big whopping elephant wearing a friggin' diamond-studded wedding gown in the room that neither one of us wanted to be the first one to bring up, it seemed. At least, I know I certainly didn't. I knew I couldn't avoid the unpleasant topic forever, but at the same time there was a silly little part of me that was hoping if I put it off long enough, that... I don't know... the statute of limitations for discussing it would expire or something.

If only.

Well, someone had to be the one to start. Might as well get this over with. Screwing my eyes shut, I took a deep breath and-

"Snowbunny? Could you come in here for a sec please?" Lea's voice rang out from down the hall.

Great. And just when my face had finally managed to cool down too. At the rate this was going, I was beginning to suspect my cheeks might get stuck in this lovely shade of tomato rouge.

Plastering on a smile, I told Father, "I'll be right back."

"Of course," he gave a simple nod. However, the tiny scowl he was directing towards where Lea's words had come from was not lost on me.

I primly and with as much dignity as I could muster walked over to the archway. As soon as I was out of his line of sight however, I broke into a sprint down the hall, skidding to a stop in the doorway to my bedroom and scrunching up my face. "Snowbunny?" I spat out like it left a bad taste in my mouth.

He looked up from where he was neatly folding one of my dresses into a box atop my bed, flashing me a grin. "Was trying out a pet name to use around the folks. Thoughts?"

"I think there's a razor thin line between you trying to not look or sound like a pushover in front of them and you just straight up pissing them off."

"Huh," he tipped his head to one side. "...keep workingshopping it then?"

I rolled my eyes with a soft snort, moving further into the room to stand in front of him, "Yes, I'd say so."

"Noted." He closed the flaps to the box shut before crossing his arms and shifting over to lean back against my vanity, frowning at me. "Hey, we're okay right?" At my quirked eyebrow, he elaborated, "Ya know, with the this," he raised one of his hands with a waggle, then pointed at my own hand, "holding that, and these," now he gestured to his lips before gently poking my brow, "planting one right there."

"Oh." I resisted the urge to reach up to where my forehead still felt warm and had the ghost of a tickle from the brush of his lips earlier. Doing my best to suppress the umpteenth blush of the day, I looked away, "No, no, that was nice… er, I mean fine. Acceptable."

Elsa, Queen of Keeping Her Cool.

He grinned in relief. "Good. Was just winging it since we didn't really get a chance to discuss anything, but wouldn't have wanted to do something that made you uncomfortable."

"Nope! Totally a-okay here." I gave him a thumbs up. Then immediately felt lame for giving him a thumbs up and instead put my hands to better use running them down my braid. "So… I'm assuming there's an actual reason you called me in here."

"Right!" He flicked a hand at the two cardboard crates sitting side by side atop my mattress. "We're gonna need more boxes from the car."

I furrowed my brow, approaching them. "But I thought I'd only need one. How'd you fill them both up already?"

Lea shrugged, one side of his mouth turning up. "Just grabbed stuff out of your closet. Anything that'd look cute on you."

I pulled the flaps back on one to peek inside, my eyes widening before hastily opening the other one as well and puffing out a sigh, "You've packed everything that was hanging in there."

"Well, yeah! Cuz everything looks cute on you, El!"

It should be illegal for him to say things like that.

My broiling cheeks seconded that notion.

Slapping the boxes shut again, I huffed, "Fine, we'll run back down to grab more after my father leaves. But you! You're no longer involved in the decision making of what I do or don't bring back, got it? I don't have room for all this junk at my new place," I jabbed a warning finger in his direction, to which he just held up his hands in surrender, smirking and giving me another tiny shrug.

That was the face of zero remorse.

And I couldn't even really get mad about it since he'd only been being his big dumb sweet self again.

Ugh, I didn't even really want all these things. All these clothes that'd been bought and paid for with my parents' munny. This was my new life, my own life free from their control and I wanted to manage it with absolutely zero help from them, nothing, not even so much as a stitch of clothing. The only real reason I'd even come here today was to see Father and set Operation Boyfriend But Shh Not Really in motion. I'd probably just end up giving most if not all of these dresses to charity anyway.

Shaking my head, I glanced about the room. "Now where…? Ah!" I'd spotted what I was looking for - my phone resting on the vanity next to Lea's hand. Probably left there by Anna weeks ago, since she'd been the one holding onto it for me on The Wedding Day That Never Was.

Lea sidestepped out of my way as I moved to pick it up. He gave me a curious look, "The parental units still gonna be paying for your data plan?"

"Doubt it. I wouldn't accept it, even if they offered. Rayne said she can put me on her and Riku's family plan until I've gotten a few more checks from work and can start paying for my own. It'll be nice not having to borrow hers all the time anymore."

...okay, I know I'd just had that little mental spiel about not wanting to accept anything from my parents. But come on now, in this day and age, phones are all but a necessity, not to mention expensive. Besides, it's not like I was just going to take it. I planned to reimburse my parents for it… discuss and figure out some sort of payment plan with them that would work with my budget.

"Well in that case," he pulled a black Sharpie from the pen holder on my vanity, biting down on the cap and pulling it off before taking one of my hands in his and turning my palm up so he could write a phone number on it, punctuated with a tiny heart.

I stared blankly at my hand. "Um…?"

He winked at me. "My digits."

Now I stared at him blankly. "I figured, but why?"

"What, you don't think you should have yo man's number on speed dial in your phone?"

"No, that I get, but why," I shoved my palm into his face, "on my hand?"

A tiny snerk through his nose. "How else were you gonna get it? By psychically plucking it outta the air from my mind?"

"No, by having Rayne enter it into my phone after recharging it when I got home," I said flatly.

He blinked, eyes darting to the left. "...alright, point there." Then he chuckled, scratching a spot behind his ear. "I've just always wanted to write my number on a girl's hand. Seemed like a real slick move."

I drooped my eyelids at him. "Was it everything you dreamed it would be, stud?"

"And more!" he beamed.

"You're weird."

"Careful now or all that sweet talk of yours will go straight to my head."

Fighting a begrudging grin, I snatched up the charger from where it lay on the vanity as well and stepped back over to the boxes, slipping it and the mobile in with the folded clothes. Then both my eyebrows shot up my forehead and I glanced back at him. "Wait, you've never written your number on a girl's hand before?"

He blinked back at me, "...no?"

"But Rayne told me what a ladykiller you used to be, and that right there seems like Ladykillers 101."

"Gah, Raindrop," he grumbled under his breath, facepalming. "...those were… you don't really need to exchange numbers when you're just… looking to hookup for a night."

"...oh." I looked away, seriously regretting pulling at this thread.

His hand went to the nape of his neck, tugging at the hairs there. "...I've changed a lot in the last year."

"It sounds like it," I smiled gently at him. Then I exhaled heavily, "Okay… guess I better get back out there then."

"Wait," his hand closed around my wrist as I turned to go, stopping me in my tracks. I gave him a questioning look and he released me, squinting at me and tapping a knuckle to his lips in thought. Then he snapped his fingers and was shrugging out of his leather jacket, holding it out towards me. "Put this on."

My head rocked back slightly, gaze shifting back and forth between him and it a few times. "...but I'm not cold. And we're inside. Why would I go back out to Father wearing your jacket?"

"That's the point," his eyes crinkled as he moved closer to me, slipping my arms into it and tugging it on, flipping the collar up. "Make him wonder. It'll drive him batshit. Now scoot," his fingertip booped my nose before he spun me around and gave me a light shove out of my room. I staggered out into the hall, glancing back at Lea as he leaned a shoulder against my door frame. "Go get 'im, tiger."

I shot him a hard stare. "Also not an acceptable pet name in front of my parents."

"Duly noted." His arms folded beneath his chest as he tossed his head towards the living room, "Now go on already, get."

Pressing my lips together into a thin line, I looked straight ahead down the hall, squared my shoulders and started a slow march forward.

Why was I doing all of this again? Oh, right. To get my parents to leave me alone and stop trying to interfere with my life. And wearing Lea's jacket was going to help with that. Somehow. Was still kind of fuzzy on the how. The jacket itself smelled strongly of boy - really nice smelling, cinnamon-spiced boy. It was actually kind of comforting and was easing my nerves somewhat. So in a way, I guess that was helping. I glanced down at the sleeves as I walked. They were too long, stretching past my hands and hiding the number written in fresh ink on my palm. I suppose that helped a bit too. It would have been awkward explaining it to Father if he had seen it. So in that regard, the jacket was also practical.

So there you have it.

A helpful, comforting, and practical jacket.

...ugh, what was I even doing anymore? Really? Could somebody tell me please? At this point, I was just grasping at straws here.

I stepped back out into the living room to find Father with his back to me as he faced the large windows, staring out onto the balcony and beyond. I gave a polite little cough into my hand to catch his attention, saying, "Sorry to keep you waiting."

"Not at all, I-" he cut himself off as he turned, spotting me. Or, more precisely, me in the jacket. He then proceeded to give the thing the darkest look I'd ever seen him give any poor, unsuspecting garment.

Welp. Mission accomplished there I guess.

Whatever the mission had been exactly.

I gnawed on my bottom lip, absently fiddling with the zipper dangling from the left leather sleeve. Then I broke the long stretch of silence with a delicate clearing of my throat. "S-so… about the, uh… about the wedd-"

His hand shot up, stopping my words dead. His face had regained its aloof, impassive mask once more. "Regrettably, we don't have time to properly discuss that matter this visit. I have business elsewhere that I must attend to shortly. I merely came to allow you access to your old condo."

"Oh," I breathed, frowning and quickly looking down at my feet.

"...and to see for myself how you were doing," he added, his voice softening somewhat. Maybe I'd only imagined it however. "Your mother… she's expressed wishes to see you as well."

My gaze lifted once more as I sucked in a tiny breath, feeling hope prickle inside my chest. "Ah… yes, of… of course! I could come visit in a few days or-"

"We're actually having a small family get-together in roughly two weeks' time. A bit of a weekend affair, if you will. I think it would be for the best if you came by then. We could set aside time to discuss your actions between the festivities. Of course, your… your friend," he tried, really did try, to restrain the curl of distaste to his lips here, but wasn't quite fully successful, "is extended the invitation as well."

"You're too kind, Pops!" Lea's chipper voice sounded from behind me even as I'd been opening my mouth to respond. Before I could turn to look at him, I felt his grip on my arm tugging me and I stumbled backwards into his chest where he proceeded to hug my shoulders from behind and nuzzle his cheek against mine. "We wouldn't miss it for the world!"

How I had yet to suffer a heart attack during this entire little excursion was beyond me.

Once again, the words 'Conceal, don't feel,' chanted like a desperate prayer through my mind as I grasped his arm, hiding my flushed face in the crook of his elbow. Those three little words were starting to blur together into gibberish and lose all meaning, I'd recited them so much at this point.

Father fixed us with a long, unblinking stare and he'd gone so still, I could have sworn he'd turned to solid stone for a second there. But at last, he managed a, "Wonderful." I seriously doubt he meant that. "We look forward to seeing you both there." That either. "Well then... I'll just leave this here," he deposited the key onto the dining table, "should you decide you need to come back at a later date for more of your belongings. If and when we decide to sell the unit, we'll be sure to let you know. I'll be in touch shortly with further details of the upcoming gathering, otherwise I'm sure your sister will be only too happy to pass along the information as well."

"Thank you… Father," I muffled into Lea's arm.

He bowed his head slightly. "Right then, well… I must be off."

"T'was lovely to make your acquaintance," I could all but hear the smirk in Lea's voice as Father turned to go.

He froze, posture reaching new magnitudes of stiffness previously thought impossible. "...likewise," was all he said after a beat, not even looking back before striding out the front door, clicking it shut behind him.

And just like that, he was gone.

"I think that went rather well," Lea said brightly, not yet removing his arms.

I sighed, unconsciously relaxing a bit back into his chest. "I guess. Though I was kind of hoping we'd be able to air everything out today so it'd be all over and done with... I suppose I should be glad he didn't just disown me on the spot, for whatever that's worth. This thing he's invited us to though… it makes me uneasy."

His hair tickled as he turned his head to look at me. "What makes you say that?"

A small frown marred my face. "I don't know… it's probably nothing, just me being paranoid. I guess… all we can do is go, continue to put on this little performance and see what happens." My eyelids drooped, "Speaking of which, we really need to get on setting those ground rules for PDAs."

He swiftly released me now, taking a step back and holding his arms up like a criminal caught red-handed, "Sorry, did I cross a line with that one?"

I turned to face him but didn't quite meet his gaze. I knew that if I did in this precise second, I might be setting a new world record for number of blushes per minute, or BPM if you will. Feeling I'd done enough of that for one day, I looked everywhere but directly into his eyes, fingers plucking at my braid. "Not… exactly. I just… need to be forewarned on these things… know what I'm getting into, so they don't, ah… catch me off guard in the future."

"Oh, so that's why you were such an awkward walnut the whole time," he laughed, moving over to one of the couches and flopping down unceremoniously onto it, kicking his boots up on the immaculate, glossy finish of the coffee table. "Thought that was a little weird. You acted like a guy's never given you snuggles and affection before."

My lips twisted to one side and I said nothing.

His eyes widened and he sat up straighter. "You gotta be pulling my leg here. You were dating the guy, your fiancé, for what... five years was it? What were you two even doing that whole time?"

Grimacing, I made my way over to sit on the opposite end of the sofa from him. "The thing is, my ex… he was never really a fan of romantic gestures, big or small. Especially not in front of other people."

"Seriously?" he looked positively offended at the very idea. "He had to at least hug you in public, right?" I hesitantly shook my head. "Brush your hair back behind your ear?" A pause, then a second small shake. "Shit, for the love of- hold your hand?" Annnnd a third. "Please, please tell me he at least kissed you."

So much for not making it into the Guinness book for the most BPM. With a tiny scowl, I said, "Well, of course he did. Though… mostly only behind closed doors. But he'd take me on dates to fancy restaurants, art galas, the opera... oh, and he'd occasionally tuck my hand into the crook of his elbow when we were out." It almost sounded like I was trying to defend him now. "And he'd… uh…" Huh. Guess that about covered it. "...well, he just thought such things to be garish, empty gestures that were unnecessary," I finished lamely.

Lea gaped at me. "...and you were gonna marry this guy? Dude sounds like a fucking idiot."

I looked at him sharply. "Excuse me?"

"Sorry, it's just…" he frowned now, leaning forward in his seat and planting his elbows on his knees, rubbing his arm. "El, you deserve better than that. Someone who'll worship the ground you walk on. Ya know… rose petals, white doves, the whole cornball, cheesy works."

"Oh." Would you look at that? Not two seconds and I'd already shattered the new BPM record I'd just set. I was really going to need to get this whole face heating situation under control, this quite simply would not fly anymore. "...th-thank you?"

He cleared his throat and propped his cheek in his palm, looking at me sideways. "No wonder you were weird about all that stuff I did. You've never really been all that touchy-feely with a guy before, huh?" He grinned, "Good news is we got two weeks to practice."

I cocked my head slightly. "Practice?"

"Yup!" He scooched over closer to me, nudging my shoulder with his. "We threw ya into the deep end before you were ready. Now we gotta rewind and actually teach you how to swim. And you know a good place to start? Learning by example."

"Which means…?" I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Observing some of the local wildlife perform their ritualistic mating displays in their natural habitat. That's right, you guessed it: couple-watching in the food court!"

Author's Note: Our couple is off to a rocky start! But it's to be expected with what an awkward penguin Elsa is. She was not built for this! But she'll get there… maybe xD They got 2 weeks to figure it out anyway… 2 whole weeks of fluff, mwahaha! Yeah, we're gonna take a lil detour off the Plot Highway here to make a stop in the good ol' town of Fluffsville for the next several chapters xD Also, Elsa's dress this chapter is loosely based on her Let It Go ice dress - the silhouette of it is at least (I think I used that fashion term correctly…). Lea's outfit is based on nothing, I just wanted to make him... smokin' hawt ;D ALSO, Elsa's dad isn't as nice a guy in this as he seems to be in the Frozen movies, but you all probably figured that was coming with the way he's been talked about the whole story thus far. To be fair, Elsa's parents in the movie could be considered a bit controlly with how they made Elsa suppress her powers, so just consider how he is in this story a twist on that from the movies xD Yet another also: Cliff (the doorman) is apparently the name of one of the rock trolls in the movie, so I figured, SURE, why not, let's name the doorman that! And one more also (last one, I swear!) - I'd run out of KH:BBS official ice cream flavors by this chapter. The one named in this chapter (based on Lilo and Stitch if it weren't obvious) was one my friend (who I'm borrowing Rayne from) came up with! I imagine it's description up on the Ice Palace menu would read something like "It's got all the punch of Hawaii's tangy fruit flavors and a little bit of Elvis for kicks! Naturally it's blue as the sea with bits of Hawaiian fruit in the center!" In any case, by the next time I needed to come up with an ice cream flavor name later on in this story, I'd figured out a new source list to pull from, as you'll all discover very soon!

Next chapter, will our leading man and lady get the hang of this whole relationship dealio? What couple(s) did Lea have in mind for them to watch? Will it actually help? Or will it only muddle matters further? Just what IS the world record for most blushes per minute and is Elsa really in the running for that highly coveted title? Stay tuned!

Thanks for reading, I super duper appreciate it! And an extra BIG thank you to those of you who’ve liked, reblogged, and followed so far, seeing those lil notifications always brings the biggest, goofiest smile to my face!

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

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cassianjerons · 5 years

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fandom compliment 💕

so since today is the birthday of one of my favorite people on this hellish website and they decided to help host a fandom compliment day in honour of it - because that’s the kind of wonderful and thoughtful human rust is - i am going to attempt to do them justice by sending some kind words to all the wonderful people who shaped my fandom experience over the past two and a half years in all kinds of beautiful, thoughtful, hilarious and amazing ways.

i never made some overdramatic “i am leaving the fandom” post, because for one that’s not me, but also because i might have been able to quit the show, but i don’t have any interest in quitting on the people. and this feels far more productive anyway.

oh, and if you hadn’t realised yet, hello again, it’s the artist formerly known as @vicbartons! so let’s do this thing:

(under a cut, because this is going to get really long and quite possibly soppy)

(also go and send rust @rustandruin some love for their birthday while you’re at it, because they deserve it)

@aarobron lucy! my football buddy! seriously, if you happen to have sold your soul to a football club like the two of us have, lucy is the one you want to talk to about it. but aside from the fact that this girl is a wealth of football knowledge, she also happens to be hilarious and smart and passionate, which makes her a freaking joy to talk to at all times.

@aarondingel haley is an absolute angel of a human who is full of love and support for the people she cares about. she’s thoughtful and kind and there is no one else in this world i would rather vehemently disagree about fiction with than her. bantering, chatting and laughing with her has been one of my favourite things about being part of this fandom and let’s not forget about how she always fills my dashboard with all kinds of gorgeous gifs.

@aceliv rhia has the kindest soul and the biggest heart and never fails to brighten up my dashboard with her positive energy, which is worth a hole damn lot on an average day, but even more so in a fandom that at times tends to drown in negativity and upset.

@bartsugsy this fandom and i personally would be so much poorer if it weren’t for lo’s wit and humour and her talent at boiling everything we love about emmerdale and robron into perfect text posts. her blog is always a joy to read and at the end of the day that is down to what a wonderful, thoughtful, kind and caring gem of a human lo is.

@capseycartwright lorna is honestly an inspiration in about a hundred different ways and seeing her learn and grow and achieve her goals over the past few years from afar has been absolutely wonderful. she’s smart and thoughtful and witty and compassionate. honestly, lorna comes across as the type of person, who you hope to run into when you're sad and drunk in a club bathroom because there is no doubt in my mind that she would have tissues and good advice at hand for you before calling you a taxi. and don’t even get me started on how freaking talented of a writer she is.

@charitydingle kayleigh is cool and witty and fun and kind and just a joy to follow. also, she loves charity and everyone who does is a goodun in my book.

@dingleminyard so. much. freaking. talent. all of coralie’s gifs and edits are art and we’re lucky to have her around.

@dingletragedy sophie! quite possibly my mutual with the best taste in music? maybe so. chatting with her is always a blast because she’s not only witty and lovely but also incredibly talented and being able to follow along as she started dipping her toes into writing over the past few months has been an absolute joy, especially because of how brilliant she is at it. and not to get too soppy on main, but after seeing her struggle every now and again in the past but also work so damn hard, i just hope that she is at least as proud of herself for graduating uni at the moment as i was when i saw that pic of her and her flipping finished dissertation this past week.

@escapingreality51 amelia is an inspiration tbh. seeing her struggle with her mental health and bad brain days but always getting back up again, fighting, and turning her feelings and experiences into some of the most emotional, heart-felt, real and beautiful writing i have ever seen is incredible and i hope that she is incredibly proud of herself for all of it. seeing her grow and achieve her goals has been the most gorgeous side product of following her blog, though just having her kind, calm and caring presence on my dashboard would already have been enough. she’s the kind of person i would never hesitate to come to with a problem. she’s also the kind of person to write fanfiction that will make you want to fall in bone-shaking, devastating, can’t keep your heartbeat under control kinda love.

@forgottenwounds there are few people on this site i have talked to as much over the past two years as erin and i wouldn’t want it any other way. discussing things with her never failed to make fandom more fun to me and because she’s not only fun and a sucker for details, but also incredibly smart and opinionated in the best of ways, i rarely leave our conversations without feeling a little bit smarter than before or having gained a new perspective on things and it’s the absolute best. she also happens to be a badass at work, putting in tons of love and effort and time into making the word a bit of a better place and i respect the hell out of her for it.

@frecklysugden lauren is kind and funny and caring and i wish she would wake up every morning seeing herself the way i and so many others see her, because she is a ray of sunshine and smarts and wittiness and deserves to take on the world and make it her own. she also happens to be able to write stories that will feel like a punch to your gut in all the best and worst ways and have you crying happy or sad tears into your pillow at two in the morning, because you just couldn’t resist clicking that “next chapter” button just one last time before going to bed. also, sidenote: quality taste in music. that feels a bit tagged on now after all the soppy stuff, but it needed to be said.

@inloveamateursatbest claudia has great taste in tv. let’s start with that, because that is what has lead me to have some of the best, most thoughtful and most fun conversations on this hellsite with her. just talking to her about stuff often makes me feel a little bit smarter and there is no one i would rather scream about skinny, blonde, nightmarish male characters who are hiding a massive heart under layers and layers of insecurities and issues with than her. that aside, she also happens to be an incredibly kind and thoughtful human, with a heart full of wit and gold. what more could you really ask for?

@inthedreamatorium keri and i have sadly never talked much, but she is just one of those hilarious, warm and wonderful presences on my dashboard that i don’t want to imagine my tumblr experience without.

@josephtate the first thing i think about when i think of fiona, is how her fics always manage to feel like a hug or cuddling up under the covers with some tea and a good book, all warm and soft and homely. and it’s the most beautiful. she also happens to be way cooler than i could ever hope to be and just a really kind, lovely, talented human with a wicked taste in music and food.

@justleavemebreathless the gifs! the video edits!! how can a single human be this freaking talented?? and then she also has the biggest heart and is this supportive and positive and lovely?? sounds fake, but it’s not and this fandom is better for having jacqueline in it.

@lesgayliennesdangereuses kate always feels like one of those really rare “best of both worlds” kinda humans. quick-witted and sharp-tongued, but also incredibly kind and thoughtful. critical and intelligent, but also passionate and hilarious. she doesn’t take shit, but still always shows compassion and heart. basically, she is the kind of person who can go back and forth between shitposts about robert and aaron’s horrible fashion choices and thoughtful, educational posts about social justice issues or sexuality with an ease that’s impressive and wonderful.

@letthe3000rain the blog where sarcasm and not taking shit from dumb anons were born. everyone should have a blue on their dashboard as a palette cleanser from all the insanity of fandom and as a witty voice of reason that reminds you that some things maybe shouldn’t be taken so damn seriously. also to excessively discuss the affair era, because that ish is important.

@littlelooneyluna nicole is an absolute wizard with words! the emotions she can pull out of you with just a few lines of dialogue is not only astonishing and wonderful but also an inspiration to everyone who’s ever tried their hand at writing themselves. and that’s before you even touch on the fact that she is one of the kindest souls around, never shy to compliment and support anyone who might need it.

@longlivethefreakinme camille is a funny and supportive angel of a human and i wouldn’t want to imagine my fandom experience without her in it. last but not least, because she shares my love for robert and victoria’s relationship and her blog is always one of the best places to go to for anyone in dire need of a good affair era fix. especially when she stumbles down an emotional rabbit hole again and takes you right down with her in the best way.

@luststricken hannah is an absolute babe, with a plus taste, who makes my fandom experience better just by existing. she’s a wonderful ray of sunshine who fills your dashboard with quality gifs as well as the perfect mix of positive attitude and banter. that and we all need a friend who supports our irrational hatred of a certain adele song that everyone else is weirdly obsessed with, even though it’s overplayed and she has literally dozens of better ones in her repertoire, you know?

@prettyboysugden lucy knows what she’s about and i respect the hell out of her for it. she stands her ground no matter what, but beyond that, she has an incredibly big heart and a kind soul and if that’s not the perfect mix i don’t know what is. oh, and have we talked about her damn writing yet? because dear god, it’s gorgeous.

@robertisbisexual malorie is as outspoken and true to herself as i can only hope to be on my very best days and it impresses the hell out of me tbh. smart and witty and a force of nature, she’s the kind of person you want on your dashboard when everything and everyone around you seems to be drifting off into bullshit territory once again. nevertheless, mal never fails to be kind and thoughtful and considerate. oh, and because all of that apparently wasn’t already enough, she’s one hell of a writer as well. (she’s also a demon who loves to torture me personally with pictures of a certain freakish looking taxidermy faux pas, but i love her anyway.)

@robertjacobsugdens i have rarely met someone on here who was as well-spoken and thoughtful and just astonishingly smart as alex is. when alex takes on a topic of discussion, you can be sure that she isn’t going to half-arse things, but that instead she will show you a different perspective or teach you something you didn’t know before or maybe get you to look up a thing or two on wikipedia, because hearing her talk about things and issues she cares about makes you want to know more about them as well. aside of that, she also happens to be incredibly funny and witty and one hell of a writer. like, dear god, you do not want to know the number of times i have reread each and every one of her AUs…

@sapphicsugden siri always inspires me to try and be a better writer. that’s the first thing that comes to my mind when i think of her, because she is just that ridiculously talented. the way her writing takes you on an emotional journey with every carefully chosen word and phrase is mind-blowing and wonderful and deserves to be screamed at from rooftops tbh. but beyond that, siri is one of the most supportive, intelligent and kind-hearted people i have had the pleasure to meet on this website.

@smittenwithsugden first of all, happiest of birthdays, pauline! i hope it’s an amazing one. now on to the compliments. pauline’s was one of the first emmerdale blogs i stumbled upon and also one of the first fanfic writer’s whose work i read, so i should just take a second to thank her for introducing me to this wonderful mess in the first place. in a lot of ways, she also feels like one of the fandom’s mums. she is the queen of organisation: translating clips, keeping track of directors and writers, planning events left and right and spreading positivity and love while she is at it. her blog is just this wealth of information and support and it’s a gift!

@sugdensquad millie is the person in this fandom who got me into reading wips. who had me desperately waiting for a new update the second i had finished her latest chapter of fic. who dragged me deep into her stories with her insane ability to slowly build a narrative and dig deep with characters and the way she takes all the things you love from canon and somehow manages to make them so much more. who had me reading tens of thousands of words in a single evening when it had been months since i’d last managed to actually finish a book. because that’s how talented she is. and on top of that she also happened to be a wonderful bean when i got talking to her much later on. 1000/10. would recommend.

@thesnowyswan rae has the most supportive and loving energy around. she’s also unafraid to dig deeper and tackle big questions and issues and reading her takes on things, be it through the lens of her fanfic (and goddamnit she is one hell of her writer and reading her work never fails to inspire me) or in her posts always gets me to think more deeply about stuff myself and see things from a new perspective, and i appreciate the hell out of her for that. she’s the kind of person i would always trust to go to for advice, knowing that i would be getting a thoughtful, kind and compassionate answer no matter the issue.

@wycombewanderer husna feels like a breath of fresh air amidst fandom craziness. the way she always comes across as calm and collected and eloquently speaks on all kinds of issues and topics and never fails to teach me a thing or two on the way is not only impressive but also something i massively appreciate. beyond that, she also just has a genuine, warm and kind energy about her that makes my fandom experience far more enjoyable than it would be without her around.

#robron fandom compliment day 2019 #look at me getting over my tagging people anxiety #to make this happen #(also i wrote most of this on my phone so pls excuse any and all typos)#(also i probably forgot a bunch of people and i am very sorry i love ya)

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thejollyroger-writer · 5 years

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Keep Hope Close at Hand, Chapter Eleven

Start at the Beginning: tumblr // AO3

Previous Chapter: tumblr // AO3

As always, you can find the entirety of the story under its tag on my tumblr.

Also on AO3!

Tags: @shireness-says@wellhellotragic@flyflyangel@stahlop@superchocovian@kingofmyheart14@drkeldonmd@darkcolinodonorgasm@profdanglaisstuff@pirateherokillian@captainsjedi@let-it-raines @ultraluckycatnd

Want to be added or removed? Let me know!

Her hands are shaking. That’s the first thing she notices stepping out of Granny’s.

The second is that she has nowhere to go and no way to get there, remembering Killian drove them there from the docks, Emma’s nerves too high for him to feel comfortable to let her drive. But she has her feet, and a lot of energy to exert, so she takes off, her feet leading her back to the docks, the only safe place she knows.

Safe place. Is that even what it is? Is anywhere safe, when both Neal and the mayor have it out to get her?

Woah, where did that thought come from? Regina might be out to get her for some reason, but she has never been Emma’s biggest fan, for as long as she can remember. But Neal? Is Neal out to get her?

Of course not. That’s crazy. Neal just wants to protect his son, make sure that he does not lose Henry, even if he loses her. That’s it. That’s all of it.

What happened to them? What happened to her? Where did she go wrong?

She feels her lip start to quiver again, her emotions getting the best of her for what must be a record number of times this week alone. But, thankfully, before it can turn to anything more, she hears a car pull up beside her, the low rumble of its engine and the crunch of its tires against the pavement, and when she turns her head to face it, she finds none other than Killian’s slate blue Subaru pulling up beside her.

Though she hears his window roll down, the soft sound of Pearl Jam coming through the speakers, she notices that he says nothing at first.

“Emma, are you okay?”

When he does finally speak, she realizes that the tears she was trying so hard to dispel have started to fall, and she wipes her thumbs across her cheeks to clear them.

“I just — I want to be alone,” she lies. The last thing she wants is to be left alone, but how does she tell him — this man that is practically a stranger — that he is the only company she sees herself keeping, after a day like today?

“Forgive my bluntness, love, but I don’t believe that to be the truth.”

Eyes wide with surprise, she turns to him, staring at her across the passenger seat. How could he possibly know that?

“Do you really claim to know me that well, Jones?”

She does not miss the ghost of a smile that passes quickly across his lips. “Tell me I'm wrong and I'll leave without another word."

She smiles at him, a strong opposition to the feeling that has spread over every other inch of her body, and reaches for the handle of the passenger door.

“Somehow, you’re right,” she says softly, climbing in next to him.

The first thing he notices once she is inside is that he is alone in the car. “Where's your daughter?” she asks, gesturing towards the empty backseat.

“Funny story there, love, but my daughter is with your son and your husband.”

She corrects him before even realizing what he said: “Neal is not my husband,” and then her eyes go wide, staring at him as he pulls away from the curb. “What did you just say?”

“Well, after you left the diner and Neal and Henry went into the back, Hope asked me if she could go with Henry to make sure nothing happens to him, and I agreed. We told Neal that they were already planning on having a sleepover and watching a movie, that they had been talking about it all morning, and he agreed. With Hope there, I'm hoping that Neal would decide not to do anything he regrets. And I gave her my phone, told her to text you if there were any problems.”

Emma is silent for a moment, then leans across the car and hugs Killian over the console, not even caring that he is driving. “Thank you,” she whispers.

After a moment, with Killian stopped at a stop sign, he turns to her. “So where should we go?”

The first place she thinks of is his ship, the place she was able to get away from the world for a few hours just that morning, so when she suggests it, he turns to her, a wide smile spread across his face.

“Save the two nights I was forced to spend in jail here because of your lovely mayor, I’ve not had a night to myself for just around twelve years, if I’m completely honest.”

“You and your girl really have been all on your own, haven’t you? Since your wife left?”

His face grows sad immediately, though there is something else under it that Emma can’t quite put her finger on. She shouldn’t have brought it up, she realizes almost immediately, though it is too late to take it back.

“Aye. But my Hope means the world to me. She’s my everything, and I know my wife will feel the same way about her when we are finally back together. When we’re a family again.”

The affection that fills his blue eyes as he stares at her for a moment is too much for her, especially after that heartfelt statement, and she has to look away, and continues staring out the window for the rest of the drive, which only lasts a few minutes. How can he have so much faith? The question is on the tip of his tongue, almost stumbles out of her mouth a few times, but every time she goes to speak, she notices his humming, whistling — his contentment — and she knows that she cannot bring the subject up again so soon.

“Would you mind if I went and laid down for a little while?” she asks as he leads her down the docks, overwhelmed by both the events of the day so far and the questions about him that filled her head during their car ride. “I didn’t sleep well last night, and I —”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, Emma,” he says, his voice soft, and when he turns to face her, gesturing up the ramp that leads to the deck of the Jolly Roger, his eyes are filled with the same softness. “Take as much time as you need, just let me grab a few things from the cabin so as to not disturb you and it can be all yours.”

“Thank you, Killian,” she whispers, not sure that her voice would allow her to do anything more, and she reaches out to touch his arm as she passes him, her fingers touching the skin just above his brace.

She realized earlier that day, as he stood by the helm of his ship, that he had removed the thin button-down that he wore over a faded Guns ‘N’ Roses t-shirt, and that it was the first time that he bared his arms to her since arriving in Storybrooke, revealing at the same time the apparatus that attached his fake hand to the remaining stump of his arm. “An old Navy injury,” he had told her the first time he saw her looking at it, and though it had piqued her curiosity more than once, she had never brought herself to asking about it. It was also the first time she saw his tattoo, worn enough that the colors seemed to run together after all the years since he’d gotten it, but it was still clear enough for her to see: a heart with a dagger going through the top and out the bottom, with a name written across a ribbon in the foreground. She had not been able to get close enough to read the faded letters, and though she could not be completely sure, it looked as though it started with an M.

The corner of his lips shoot up in the beginnings of a smile, though it grows no further than that.

She follows him down into the cabin, leaning against the edge of the bed as he reaches into the drawers of the desk and pulls out a few books.

“You can sit down here at the desk if you want, I’ll be more than fine in the first mate’s bunk.”

“I insist. It’s a gorgeous day outside, I’ll make myself a nook on the deck and sit in the sun. That’s good for the skin.”

She smiles across the cabin at him, but he does not return it.

“You spend so much time in the sun, Killian. Besides, this is your ship, the last thing I want to do is intrude.”

This time, when he looks up at her from the chair behind the desk, she can swear that his bright blue eyes sparkle at her, which is entirely impossible, since the only light in the cabin is that streaming through the windows behind him, waiting for the afternoon sun. “I can assure you, love, the last thing you can ever do is intrude.”

They both stop for a moment, simply staring at the other, and there is a thickness in the air that Emma cannot quite understand. But it only lasts a moment before he pushes himself to his feet and rushes out of the cabin, shouting a quick, “I’ll be on the deck when you’ve had your rest,” before disappearing through the door.

She falls onto the bed, first sitting before falling onto her back and staring up at the ceiling. There are far too many thoughts flying every-which-way inside her head, more of them about Killian Jones than she would like to admit, and though her mind seems to be moving at a mile a minute, it does not take too long before her exhaustion and the rocking of the ship from the waves overwhelms her and lulls her to sleep.

When she wakes up, the late-afternoon sun is streaming through the cabin windows, almost making the room too bright for her eyes to acclimate to. She sits up in the bed for a few minutes, letting the sun shining through the windows warm up her face as she scrolls through her Instagram feed, not really seeing any of the pictures that she passes.

Instead, her mind is set on the chaos her life has become, the only beacon of light through the darkness the dark, mysterious man on the deck above her. She sits in silence, waiting to hear some evidence of his movement above her, but she ship is silent, simply groaning under the wind pushing against the old wooden hull. So, taking advantage of the silence above her, she climbs down from the small bed, her socked feet soft against the floor as she pads over to the map on the wall. It’s certainly one of the strangest maps she has ever seen, land names that she's never heard of mapped out in full detail. Or, more appropriately, lands that she has heard of, but only in stories. Camelot. Arendelle. Neverland. Agrabah. Wonderland.

But then she looks at the largest one, incredibly detailed compared to the smaller ones around it, this one a land she has never heard of: Misthaven. For some reason, this one catches her attention more than the others, and she runs her fingers across the worn lines, the calligraphic town names spread across the map. Hope Hollow. Windhaven. Greenfair. Ashtown.

There is something about them all that feels so… familiar. That’s absolutely impossible, though. None of these places exist, and she assumes that he keeps the real maps in one of the drawers in his desk. But one of the names in particular, the writing a bit larger than the rest, catches her eye, though, and she runs her pointer finger across the name of it: Coastal Cove. It’s all the way against the sea, some of the words even over the edge of the drawn coast, but the small drawing of a castle is what keeps her attention. The Castle of Misthaven. When the pad of her finger runs over the raised ink of the castle drawing, she can swear that she sees the castle in question, a large, light structure set against a bright sky. But it must just be her imagination, of course — this castle doesn’t even exist, nor does the town or the land.

She shakes her head, the vision of the castle disappearing, and moves back towards the bed, pulling her boots back on before heading back up to the main deck. She doesn’t mean to be quiet, simply does it out of habit, but when she sees Killian spread across a blanket laying behind the helm, his arm tucked under his head and one of the books he grabbed from his desk still spread across his chest, rising and falling with his breath. As she takes a few soft steps towards him, she can see his dark eyelashes against his cheeks, the rippling muscles of his curled bicep moving in his sleep.

He’s… well, he’s attractive, there’s no way to ignore that. The dark scruff that covers his chin is not thick enough to cover the sharp juts of his jawbones, accentuates the soft pink of his lips and the sharp lines of his ears. Even with soft grey-red patches in his beard and his hair, it is still overwhelmingly dark black.

Suddenly, she is overcome with reproach, reprimanding herself with the realization that she is the last person that should be appreciating the man in front of her. Sure, she and Neal may be going through some problems, and they are certainly not going to last much longer, but that does not mean that she should be attracted to another man, even if that man is the only person who seems to understand her, to understand the ferocity of everything that is happening with Neal.

But he is a man searching for his wife, trying to rebuild his family for the sake of his little girl. Emma understands that, wishes she would have had someone in her life when she was Hope’s age that cared about her even a fraction of how much Killian cares about his daughter.

Emma does not want to wake him, so she turns away from him, leaning instead against the railing of the ship and looking out over the harbor before her. But Killian must have heard her at some point, and joins her there after just a few minutes, standing silently besides her until their gazes meet and he flashes a soft smile at her that she feels in every muscle in her body.

And that absolutely terrifies her.

“Did you sleep well?” he asks, his voice still thick, not having fully recovered from his own nap.

She returns her smile. “I did, actually. And did you?”

She turns just in time to watch him scratch behind his ear, the pointed tips and edges of his cheeks turning red.

“You noticed that, then?”

She leans over, bumping her shoulder against his, and both of their smiles grow when their eyes meet, and though she’s almost entirely sure she has never actually felt butterflies in her stomach, she can swear that she feels them right now.

But her definite attraction towards him isn’t something that has to affect their relationship, right?

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Jones. Everybody needs a nap sometimes, and you said this was the first day without your Hope since her last day of school, and your first evening without her for almost her whole life. I’d say if anyone deserves one, it would be you.”

“Well, thank you, love.” He runs his fingers through his hair, then leans further against the railing. “Do you have any plans for this evening?”

She shakes her head. “Henry and I were going to have a quiet night before I had to go in for the night shift, but David told me not to worry about coming in.”

“Good man.”

“Yeah, he is. He and Mary Margaret have done more for me than any other people I’ve ever met. They’re…” She pulls her bottom lip up between her teeth. “I’ve never known my parents, but the Nolans are the closest I’ve ever had.”

Killian sighs, swallowing the lump that rises up his throat. Emma was never the one with the sad backstory, was not the one in their relationship that needed to have her walls torn down. Emma was the one that saw through to him, convinced him that he was more than the atrocities he had committed, more than all the terrible things that happened to him. But here, in this land, she was made to believe that she was just like him, that she had no one that cared about her the way he has been alone since Liam’s death all those centuries ago.

It breaks his heart. She’s too pure for this, too good for all the hurt that her life has brought her in the twelve years since the curse was cast, and though the only thing he has wanted to do is break the curse, realizing this has only made that need grow.

“So, tell me, Killian,” she says, needing to fill the silence that has fallen between them. “If you could do anything with your first free night in years, what would that be?”

He turns to her, the sun shining behind her and haloing her golden hair, which is billowing gently in the breeze. The answer to her question is suddenly obvious as he looks over to her, and he has to tear her eyes from her profile before he becomes even more overwhelmed. Twelve years of seeing someone only in dreams is awful enough, but having her so close to him without actually being able to act on his rather physical desires has become his new personal form of hell, possibly comparable to the twelve years of cursed lives that everyone here has been put through.

Except, of course, Emma.

“Well, love, if I had to choose, I would make myself a hot cup of tea and a nice dinner, and then sit and read my book.”

Emma scoffs next to him. “Okay, old man. Remind me not to let you make the plans.” She laughs, but Killian simply smiles, still trying to hold himself together. “However, a nice dinner does sound good.”

“Anywhere you would recommend? The only places I’ve eaten here are Granny’s and that burger and ice cream place.”

Emma just smiles at him again.

They end up at a seafood restaurant a few miles outside of town, by the next dock down the harbor. Knowing how Emma tore down his own walls of self-doubt when they met, he tells her a few things about his own childhood: the death of his mother, his father abandoning them, Liam's death, which he describes as due to a “mission went wrong” — not technically a lie, but not including all of the harder aspects of his story: Neverland, Peter Pan, Rumplestiltskin, becoming Captain Hook.

As she stabs the last few pieces of her pre-entree salad with her fork, she begins to recall her own story; or, better, the story that she has come to believe as true over the past twelve years — the story that Neal and Regina concocted for her to try to make her life here as miserable as possible. According to this story, she was abandoned at a church in a town on the other side of the state, raised in group homes and the occasional foster home until she was fourteen, when she ran away from the Swan family and found herself in Storybrooke. When she tried to dine-and-dash at Granny's, David picked her up at the side of the road, just a deputy back then, and though she did not believe he was telling the truth at first, she agreed to let him take her home to his wife, who had just lost her child. Mary Margaret made them dinner, Emma evading questions the way you would expect a fourteen-year-old girl on the run would do. Mr. Gold, who is a lawyer on top of a myriad of other things, helped them adopt her, much to Regina's dismay, and the next year, she started going to school. That's where she met Neal, who was a few years older than her but in some of her same classes.

They don't talk in class, but she catches him one day trying to steal someone's car, and he begs her not to tell her dad, offering to take her out to dinner.

Emma’s eyes turn down to what is left of her scampi, hoping that doing so would hide the flash of pain that crossed her face, but it does not. A smile spreads across her lips, but it does not reach any further than that; her green eyes are still brimming with sadness when she finally turns them back to him.

“And the rest, they say, is history. David wasn’t very happy when I moved in with him after graduation, but Mary Margaret was always more of an optimist.”

“Were you happy?”

He’s not sure what brought him to ask. If his mind would have given him a moment to think about it, then he most certainly would not have. But it comes out anyway, though he’s sure the surprise he fails to mask on his face is nothing compared to the shock that passes across hers.

“Was I…” she starts, twirling the rest of the pasta on her plate around her fork, but then drops it back into the plate, where it lands with a clank. “I don’t know,” she says softly, covering her face with her hands, and for a moment, Killian isn’t sure he actually heard her right.

When she meets his eyes again, her smile is a little more genuine than before. Not by much, but a little.

That has to mean something.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you this, Killian,” she mumbles, pulling a piece of bread out of the basket between them and pulling a small piece off of it, using it to sop up some of the sauce left on her plate. “I can’t even decide why it’s taken me this long to realize it, but I don’t… I’m not sure if I ever was happy.”

If Killian thought he wasn’t sure how to feel about his own question, Emma’s answer hits him like a knife to the heart. She has no reason to tell him the truth, even if her answer was no. But here she sits nonetheless, being fully honest with him even if she does not know why she feels she needs to be.

Here, for the first time in weeks — months — twelve years — she feels like his Emma again, the one he fell in love with, even before she saw him for who he truly was. His wife, his savior, the mother of his children.

He opens his mouth to speak, even though he has no idea what to say, but before anything can come of it, her phone buzzes on the table between them. Somehow, they both feel the same thing, the same worry over their children, and she flips her phone over quickly to reveal the message.

Killian Jones: Something's wrong. He's making us get in the car. Help.

Then another, almost immediately.

I think he knows I have the phone.

Together, they take a breath, too afraid to immediately think about what this might mean. He raises his eyes to hers, hers trying their best to hold back tears realizing that it is not just her son that is in danger, but Killian’s daughter as well, and he reaches across the table to cover her hand with his, hoping that the same warmth that passes through him at the touch helps calm her, as well.

But when her phone buzzes again and both of them turn their eyes down towards it again, no matter of warmth can alleviate the chill that runs through both of them, every muscle in Killian’s body tightening as he reads the words for a second time, these obviously not from his daughter.

Good try. Better luck next time.

#cs ff #cs fics #khcah #keep hope close at hand #captain swan #captain swan fics #canon divergent #canon rewrite #cursed storybrooke #cursed emma #and everyone else #let me apologize in advance #for the next chapter #I decided to give yall a little more fluff #before everything hits the fan #because that soon i promised is now

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necropsittacus · 5 years

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answer all the ones you have an interesting answer for, i guess?

i had FAR too much fun with this and it’s horrifically long so. Apologies For That. also thank you friend

2: What’s your dream pet? (Real or not)i really want some finches, when i'm actually in a place to care for an animal? maybe a pigeon3: Do you have a favorite clothing style?in real life i actually Wear button downs and black jeans most of the time for convenience. *ideally* it would be something more like "unholy union of like three different goth aesthetics, and sith fashion, and also Pirate. and spikes/chains/glowy lights." it's probably good for everyone else's eyes that i'm too cheap to redo my entire wardrobe in line with my ideal aesthetic sensibilities. i also have a set color scheme; at most one bright color, which is generally red, blue, or purple, and everything else should be black or grey. 8: What is your Greek personality type? [Sanguine, Phlegmatic, Choleric, or Melancholic]melancholic with choleric leanings.9: Are you ticklish?nope! im pretty sure i trained myself out of it 12: Do you prefer tea, coffee, or cocoa?tea. i like the taste of coffee if it's very heavily creamed and sugared but it does terrible things to my body so i don't drink it. too much chocolate also makes me sick14: Would you rather be a vampire, elf, or merperson?VAMPIRE. practically already am. 16: How tall are you?5'7"-5'8". measurements have varied. 17: If you had to change your name, what would you change it to?starscreamthis one is Already a name change? i've been through a few names and honestly i'm pretty happy with "ren." i thought about changing to something people could actually spell right on the first try, but nothing Felt right? 20: Do you like space or the ocean more?ocean! but both are pretty neat21: Are you religious?yes, but it's not remotely clear what i actually believe, just that it's Something 23: Would you rather be nocturnal or diurnal [opposite of nocturnal]?i'm already practically nocturnal tbh and it's fun 30: Favorite movie?i really appreciate the star wars prequels32: How many pets have you own in your lifetime?nine; six fish and three budgies, not all at the same time37: What is your eye color?green38: Introvert or extrovert?i think the whole dichotomy is a bit overhyped and doesn't exactly apply to me. my situation is more that i act like extroverts are "supposed" to with close friends but people i don't already know and like very much are deeply exhausting to be around and i'd rather not40: Hugs or kisses?depends. hand/forehead/cheek/etc kisses are intensely blessed and important to me, but i don't particularly enjoy making out or whatnot, and hugs are Very nice. 42: Who is someone you love deeply?tumblr user @autisticsansa44: Do you like tattoos and piercings?yeah!45: Do you smoke or have you eiver done so?yeah, occasionally. obligatory disclaimer that it's a terrible habit and you shouldn't start. it's more a "i'm extremely anxious and need to do SOMETHING" thing than a regular habit, though. 57: Have any mental disorders? [Only ask this if you know the user doesn’t mind!]several. it's just not 100% clear which ones. the most recent Professional Opinion was OCD and CPTSD with probably related anxiety and depression. also autism but i don't think that's quite the same thing58: What does your URL mean?it's a pun on "neurodivergent" that i stole from someone else's post about liches61: What makes you unfollow a blog?if your opinions start pissing me off too much or you post things i consider morally objectionable or dangerous to me. also if we have a sufficiently bad personal fight. i don't really care if a mutual or someone i've been following for a long time stops having common interests with me or anything like that, at that point i'm invested in You as a Person and will stick around for that64: Favorite animal(s):all birds. also cetaceans69: What is your star sign?i'm a fake scorpio. i have been telling people i'm a scorpio and tagging zodiac posts accordingly for literal years, out of a combination of the stereotype applying to me much better than the one for my Actual Birthday and residual influence from homestuck. 76: Do you like birds?i LOVE birds.86: Can you run a mile within ten minutes?i can't run a mile at ALL i'll have an asthma atatck88: Can you touch your toes and keep your legs straight completely?no and trying hurts90: If you were an animal, which one would you be?goth cockatoo94: Would you rather be able to fly or read minds?both of those sound fantastic. i want to say fly, though, both because bird thing!!!!, my latest batch of Attachment/Projection Characters has me thinking about the idea a lot, and mind reading seems like it would likely become a burden on me. i struggle enough with other people's feelings about me as it is96: Winter or summer?winter. summer is consistently a miserable time for me101: Favorite type of shoesaesthetically, high heeled black lace up boots. irl i mostly wear combat boots, though103: Are you a vegetarian or vegan? If so, why?vegetarian. i don't really Know why; it was how i was raised, i have no actual desire to eat meat, and i'm reasonably certain trying to start now would interact disastrously with a lot of my preexisting food issues. also, some of you are incapable of not responding to asshole vegans by acting like eating meat is a moral imperative and it's ok to bully people who don't. so even if i did want to, i wouldn't out of sheer spite106: Do you like bugs?depends on the kind. bees/wasps, dragonflies, and butterfly/moth type things are all fine. i'm deathly afraid of crickets107: Do you like spiders?yeah! i think they're cute109: Can you draw:not very well, but i keep doing it anyway114: Do you prefer cloudy or sunny days?cloudy. bright light tends to hurt me115: Someone you’d like to kiss or cuddle right now:i'm in an odd place right now where i'm either not sure if the people i'm closest to (and/or most want to Become close with) would be comfortable with anything of the sort, or know for a fact that they wouldn't be, so i'm going to refrain from naming anyone, but certain friends129: What would you want written on your tombstone?"túrin turambar dagnir glaurunga." for old times' sake/the sentimental value. i doubt christopher tolkien would give anyone permission for that, though131: What is something you love but also hate about yourself?arrogance, ambition, drive to succeed out of sheer Spite. it's a very good aesthetic, but i don't imagine it's very pleasant to actually *interact* with someone with a complex about being #1 132: Do you smile with your teeth showing for pictures?nope. i exclusively either smirk or keep my face as blank as possible; i don't think smiling like that looks good on me. 133: Computer or TV?computer. i don't actually know how to operate a television139: What nicknames do you have/have had?a lot. tends to come with changing your name 500 times. atm i don't really have any, to my slight disappointment140: Did you have any pretend or imaginary friends?i had imaginary enemies as a kid143: Do you prefer giving or receiving gifts/help?depends? it's hard for me to help people, especially to guess what kind of thing actually Is helpful to them, and i absolutely LOVE being given things, but also if i know someone well enough that we're giving each other things i would feel absolutely terrible not reciprocating, and doing it makes me happy. 145: How many languages do you speak fluently?only english, unfortunately. i have like a six year olds level of russian, which i want to improve, and i think i Could get there with japanese eventually if i start taking classes again147: Are you androgynous?honestly i can't really tell? not deliberately so, particularly, but i think i have a very Traditionally Feminine kind of pretty face and the way that combines with mostly masculine presentation and facial hair is pretty androgynous148: Favorite physical thing about yourself:this isn't a Specific Thing per se, but i do think HRT has been taking my appearance in a very "g1 seeker" direction and i am DELIGHTED151: If you could go back into time and live in one era, which would you choose?hm. viking stuff is a Big Aesthetic, but also i think i deserve to be a sickly victorian gentleman and die of tuberculosis154: Do you like to kiss others’ foreheads or hands for platonic reasons?YES. this is one of my favorite forms of affection irl. also hand kissing is The Most Valid kind of kissing. 155: Do you like to play with others’ hair?yes!!!157: Something that makes you nervous/anxious:talking to people when i'm not 100% sure where i stand with them or how much they like me. especially if i'm requesting anything.168: Do you like to wear makeup?i used to. i probably still would if i could do it without being read as a woman, but as it is the discomfort of being misgendered outweighs the joy of Having Sparkly Colors on My Face

#long post #ask memes #circus to air missile #VERY long post im sorry i. got a bit carried away #smoking ment

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theycallmebeccawrites · 5 years

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Chris & Ellie Series: Episode 7

With Tumblr holding my original writing blog @beccaheartschrisevans captive (aka flagged as explicit), I have made a secondary writing blog and may end up closing the other all together. In the meantime, I am reposting all of my stories on my new blog.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Ellie Spencer (OFC)

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: n/a

Episode Summary: This episode takes place in August 2013. Chris takes Ellie with him to a friend's wedding.

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is not to be reposted, used or translated without my permission.

The Chris and Ellie series is primarily chronological. It begins with a flash forward to 2016 and has a few other scenes in the future. However, the majority of their story is told in chronological order starting in 2013 and going through 2017. Each episode starts with a date to help you place it within the story.

The Chris & Ellie Series Masterlist | Chris & Ellie Masterlist

Episode 6

Episode 7: The Wedding

August 16, 2013

Ellie was in the kitchen cleaning up dinner when Chris came into the room with his cell phone pressed to his ear. Not wanting to eavesdrop, she tried to block out his voice, but he was talking so loudly that it was difficult.

"You promised to go with me, Scott," he said into the phone. "What the hell am I supposed to do now? I hate going to these things alone… You're right, you're right, work comes first… Ellie?"

Ellie looked up at the mention of her name and found Chris looking at her.

"Yeah, I supposed it wouldn't hurt to ask her," Chris said into the phone. "I know, Scott…. I just wish you'd given me more notice that's all… I promise I will ask her, she is actually staring at me right now…. Yes, I will let you know if you are off the hook."

Curious, Ellie waited until Chris pulled the phone from his ear and hit the 'end' button.

"So," he said, casually. "What are the chances you have this weekend off from the bookstore?"

"Depends on what you need me to do," Ellie replied, crossing her arms.

"Scott was supposed to go with me to a wedding in Palm Springs this weekend," Chris explained. "But he just called to tell me that they need him here in LA for reshoots. So I was hoping you were available to go to the wedding with me as my, uh, date."

"You were going to take your brother to a wedding as your date?" Ellie teased, unable to stop herself.

"Funny," Chris replied, rolling his eyes. "I RSVP'd with a plus one and I can't go to this thing by myself. If I do, women tend to think I am free game and won't leave me alone."

"So it's less date and more personal bodyguard?" she theorized. She wasn't sure if she was up to the task of protecting Chris from the aforementioned 'women', but she wouldn't be a friend if she made him go by himself.

"You're going to make me beg, aren't you?" he said with a sigh.

"Well, now that you mention it," she smirked, curious to see how far this would go.

"You truly are evil," Chris muttered as his phone dinged alerting him to a text message. A smile spread across his face as he read his brother's text. He shot a quick 'thanks' in reply then turned his attention back to Ellie. "Before you make me beg, the resort the wedding is at has a full service day spa. The wedding is tomorrow night and Scott had scheduled himself a massage that they won't let him cancel. It's fully paid for. If you come with me, the massage is yours."

Ellie scrunched up her face as she realized her gig was up and the cocky grin on Chris's face told her he knew it, too. "Alright, I'm in," Ellie sighed, after a moment, reaching her hand across the island to shake Chris's.

"You're the best," Chris said with a smile.

"What does one wear to a Palm Springs resort?" Ellie asked.

Chris took in her cutoff jean shorts and her hot pink racer back tank top and said, "Definitely not that."

"What? You mean you don't think this is a classy look?" Ellie asked. She did a slow turn and caught Chris's eyes bouncing from her ass to her face. "See something you like?" The words slipped from her mouth before she realized it and she felt her face heat up as she watched Chris's do the same. "Oh my God, don't answer that."

"In the sake of all honesty, you have a nice ass," Chris confessed, unable to stop himself. "I noticed it that first day we met."

"Yeah, well you have a nice cock." Ellie's eyes widened as the words registered in her head and she slapped her hand over her mouth as Chris let out a roar of laughter.

"That is the best come back I have ever heard," Chris said, wiping the tears from his eyes as he laughed.

"I'm glad you think so, meanwhile, I'm ready to go bury myself under the blankets of my bed and never leave," Ellie replied. She couldn't believe the words had left her mouth; true as they were or not.

"It's ok, honestly," Chris said, attempting to calm himself. "It's been like five months, we should be able laugh about it by now…"

"I suppose you're right," Ellie replied. "It was pretty funny when you think about it." She giggled as she remembered the paper towels. "The fact that you grabbed the -"

"Paper towels when there was a newspaper right there, yeah, yeah, yeah. My mom loves that part of the story too."

"How are we going to do this?" Ellie asked, sobering. "Like what are we telling people this weekend if they ask how we met."

"We'll keep it simple, you're my friend and you came as my date," Chris replied. "Keep it simple. We met through a mutual friend."

"There isn't going to be any paparazzi there, right? I mean, am I going to have to worry about them posting my picture somewhere with the caption 'Chris Evans dates mystery brunette with fake boobs' the next time I go to the grocery store?"

"It's not an industry wedding," Chris said with a chuckle. "So no, there shouldn't be any paparazzi. In fact, the resort we are going to is well protected so we should be fine."

"Ok, good," Ellie nodded. "I didn't want to have to defend myself to the cashier about my boobs being real."

"Should the situation present itself, I'd be happy to take a feel and confirm they're real, to defend your honor and all that," Chris said, earning him a glare from Ellie. "Too soon?"

"Too soon," Ellie said with a nod. "Now if you'll excuse me. I have some packing to do and I have to see if I can find someone to watch -"

"Scott said he'd stay here tomorrow night," Chris cut her off. "He also doesn't have to be on set until noon, so he'll check on Daisy before then."

"Perfect," Ellie replied. "I'll bring her kennel into the house in the morning. What time do I need to be ready?"

"9ish? Your massage is at noon, so leaving at 9 would give you time to get settled in your room first."

"Sounds good, I'll see you in the a.m."

With Daisy following her, Ellie went out to the guesthouse and opened her closet to pick out her most resort appropriate clothing. She selected the brand new dress she'd purchased when shopping with her sisters and then grabbed nice clothes from the back of her closet that she hadn't worn since she'd first moved to LA. She quickly tried them on and was pleasantly surprised when they still fit and actually felt a little looser than she remembered.

Not wanting to fold her nice clothes, she put them all under a dry cleaning plastic cover and then proceeded to fill her medium sized rolling suitcase with everything she thought she might need. It was nearly midnight by the time she lifted Daisy up onto the bed and climbed in after her.

When her alarm went off seven hours later, she sprung from her bed and took a quick shower. She waited until after she'd carried Daisy's kennel up to the main house before she put on her navy blue dress with striped top. She then made sure all the lights were off in the guesthouse before grabbing her purse, suitcase and the clothes that were hanging and carrying them up to the main house.

Chris came into the kitchen shortly after eight wearing a pair of khaki dress pants and a navy blue shirt that matched her outfit perfectly. He was carrying a hanging luggage bag and stopped short when he saw Ellie's stuff piled next to the table. "You do remember we are only going to be gone for one night, right?" he said, fighting back his laughter.

"Shut up," Ellie retorted, pushing her naturally curly hair out of her face. Spotting Chris's hanging luggage bag she asked, "I don't suppose you have another one of those…"

"You can just add 'em to mine," Chris replied. He unzipped it and held it open for her to add her stuff.

"Thanks," Ellie replied. "Want eggs for breakfast?"

"Sure, I'll get the coffee going," Chris offered.

An hour later, they were in Chris's car and pulling out of the driveway. They argued all the way to the freeway as to what music to play and Ellie finally convinced him to listen to one of her random car mixes.

After about thirty minutes of country songs and 90's boybands, Chris reached over and lowered the volume. "How about we just talk," he suggested.

"About what?" Ellie replied as she switched to a different playlist on her phone. She reached over to turn the volume back up, but had her hand swatted away.

"How about sports? I know you like baseball. Do you like anything?"

"I love football," she said with a grin. "I can't wait for the season to start."

"Really?" He cocked his eyebrow and glanced at her. "Who's your team?"

"Depends, are you asking college or NFL?"

"Do you have a preference?"

"I like college better, because every year you have new players and every 3 to 4 years, there is a major change over."

"Far enough. Who's your college team?"

"The Oregon Ducks, of course. Fun fact, our mascot, Puddles, is Donald Duck's alter ego."

"Uh huh, sure."

"No, I'm serious. One of our former Athletic Directors in the 1940's knew a Disney cartoonist and through him got a meeting with Walt Disney himself," Ellie stated. "There is a picture of Walt wearing an Oregon Ducks jacket. They changed the mascot costume a little, a few years ago, but all the Puddles branded stuff is Donald Duck."

"Given that that was a lot of information in like sixty seconds, I'm just going to believe you," Chris said with a chuckle. "Do you have an NFL team?"

"Of course I do. I'm a Northwest girl so it's obviously the Seahawks. I know you're a Pats fan, though."

"What gave it away?" he asked with a chuckle.

"Obviously not the Patriots shit you have all over the house," she said shaking her head. "I guess I'm just glad you don't like the Cowboys."

"Likewise."

From football their conversation moved to sports they played as kids then to childhood memories and everything in between while music played quietly in the background. It made the two and a half hour drive pass quickly; especially when traffic slowed to a crawl in certain places.

"Holy shit," Ellie gasped as she caught sight of the mission style resort. "This place is gorgeous."

"It belongs to the bride's family," Chris said. "The groom was one of my first roommates here in California."

Pulling up to the entrance, Chris and Ellie's doors were opened for them by resort staff. Chris was given a ticket for the valet service while Ellie supervised the other staff member pulling their luggage out of the trunk.

They made their way into the lobby and were greeted by a third staff member. "Good morning," she said, greeting them. "Can I get you two something to drink before I check you in?"

"No, I think we're good, thanks though," Chris replied.

"Follow me please." She led them over to the check in desk and asked Chris his name. "Ah, yes, I see your reservation here. It's an excellent room overlooking the golf course."

"One room?" Ellie asked in surprise.

"There must be a mistake," Chris told the lady. "There should be two rooms."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Evans, but there is only one room with a king size bed reserved under your name," the woman replied.

"But you have other rooms available, right?" Ellie asked her.

"No, Miss, I apologize, but we are fully booked this weekend," the lady replied.

"Can you give us a minute to talk?" Chris asked her.

"Of course," the woman replied, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.

"Now what?" Ellie asked as she and Chris moved away from the check-in desk. "There's nothing else out this way."

"I know," Chris replied. "We just shared a bed two weeks ago, are you opposed to doing it again?"

"I don't think we have any other options," Ellie sighed.

Walking back to the counter, Chris finished the checking in process and then he and Ellie were led to their second floor room by a bellhop.

The room was of modest size with a large king bed taking up most of it. The attached bathroom had a full glass shower, a separate tub and two sinks. The best feature, however, was the wall of windows that separated the small balcony from the rest of the room and looked out over the beautiful green golf course.

"I don't feel like we're in southern California anymore," Ellie muttered after the bellhop had left. "It's so green."

"You're not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy," Chris teased as he opened the patio door and they stepped out into the warm air. "Gah, heat like this makes me miss Boston."

"All this green makes me miss Oregon," Ellie agreed. "This heat is atrocious. I feel my hair getting bigger already."

Chris snickered and stole a look at her before nodding his head. "It's definitely doing something…"

"Fuck, I may have to squeeze in a hair appointment today, too," Ellie grumbled. "You got any more of that Grant money I saw you hand the bellhop? You know, in case they don't take pity on me in the spa by the mere appearance of my hair?"

"Since you're helping me out this weekend, yes, I can give you some money," Chris replied with a shake of his head. "Can we go back inside now?"

Thirty minutes later, Ellie left the room with her room key, a small bag of supplies and extra money in her purse. The spa was easy to find and the receptionist took one look at her hair, asked if she was here for the wedding and quickly ushered her into a stylist's chair.

The stylist applied a product to Ellie's hair then wrapped her hair up before she was escorted to one of the private changing rooms. She took off her clothes and put on a thick terry cotton robe then grabbed the key to the changing room before being led to the massage table.

By the time she returned to her and Chris's room, two hours later, she was completely relaxed from her massage and the hot shower that had followed. The stylist had whipped her hair into submission and, for the first time in her life, she actually had bouncy curls! She'd even had her makeup and her nails done. She'd felt like she was floating during the entire walk back to the room.

"Wow," Chris said when he looked from when where he was laying on the bed. "You look nice."

"Thanks," Ellie replied. Catching sight of herself in the large mirror on the way, she swung her hair and giggled.

"Either you've already started drinking or the spa is experimenting with personality transplants," Chris laughed.

"I may have had a mimosa or two," Ellie smiled as she walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. "But look, Chris, look at my hair. It's never looked this good before! Gus, the hair stylist, is a God. There is no other way to describe him."

"It looks good," Chris agreed. Truthfully, he liked her hair in its wild natural form or pulled back in a ponytail. He liked her down to earth spunkiness. "But I'm guessing that this means you don't want to spend the next two hours down at the pool."

"Gus said to stay away from water," Ellie replied. "So that's a definite no."

With a couple hours to kill, they channel surfed until they found a preseason NFL game featuring two teams neither of them cared about, but they watched since it was football.

When they were down to the final thirty minutes, Chris went into the bathroom to take a quick shower while Ellie stayed in the main part of the room to get dressed. By the time Chris left the bathroom dressed and ready to go, all Ellie needed was for him to zip up the back of her dress.

"What are you doing?" she demanded as she saw Chris reaching for his plain black baseball cap. "You're not wearing that."

"Ellie, come on, I'm trying to be incognito, remember?"

"Wearing a baseball hat with a suit is not the way to remain incognito at a formal wedding," she said, putting her hands on her hips. "Just wear your sunglasses and keep your head down."

"You're the boss," Chris replied, holding up his hands defensively.

"And don't you forget it," Ellie smirked. She watched as he grabbed his sunglasses and slipped them on. "Perfect! Let's go."

They made their way down to the outdoor ceremony and took two seats in the very last row that had been reserved for them.

"How many people are here?" Ellie whispered.

"500?" Chris guessed as he looked out over the crowd. Half of them were seated on an upper patio while the rest were in a grassy area.

"Do you know anyone other than the bride and the groom?" Ellie asked.

"The groom, Ray, and I were two of five roommates," Chris replied. "So I suspect our other roommates are here. As for Kady's guests, I don't know anyone."

They stopped talking as Ray and the officiant walked to the front of the audience and took their positions. Fourteen pairs of bridesmaids and groomsmen made their way down the aisle before the bride appeared with her father.

After the ceremony ended, the wedding party was escorted away for photos while the guests were excused to the cocktail hour. Servers made their way through the crowd with appetizers and custom drinks created by the bride and groom for the wedding.

Chris and Ellie found a quiet table along the edge of the party and relaxed as they people watched. Spotting a group of six walking towards them, Ellie nudged Chris and pointed.

A smile spread across Chris's face as he recognized his three other roommates and their beautiful wives. One by one he gave them each a hug and then introduced them to Ellie. "This is Ellie," he told them. "Ellie, this is Chucky and Tanya Kelley, Bryant and Gloria Gomez and Brock and Tessa Alexander."

"Hi," Ellie said with an awkward wave to the six strangers in front of her.

"So how did this one convince you to come to this festive event?" Chucky asked as he put Chris in a pretend headlock. "Just blink twice if you're not here by your own choosing."

"Shut the fuck up, Chuck," Chris said, elbowing his friend in the gut. "Ellie is just a friend doing me a favor because Scott had a conflict."

"Alright, friend Ellie, how did you meet this guy?" Chucky asked as he gave Chris a playful push.

"Mutual friends," Ellie replied, giving her best poker face as she tried to come up with a better answer. "We both love Red Sox baseball and football and they thought we'd get along great."

"Of course, C.E. would find a girl, sorry, a friend, that loves football," Brock chuckled. "Has he told you about his annual NFL kickoff party? It's a blast."

"No," Ellie said, looking at Chris with raised eyebrows. "He hadn't mentioned anything about a party…"

"We'll have something to talk about on the way home," Chris said with a forced chuckle.

A voice came over the speaker system inviting everyone to make their way to the dinner area.

"Saved by the bell," Bryant teased Chris.

"A kickoff party?" Ellie hissed to Chris as they followed the other three couples.

"It's usually a potluck style," Chris replied. "I usually supply the drinks and chips."

"Still," Ellie said, forcing a smile on her lips as she realized they were sitting at a table with his friends.

As they reached the table, Chris pulled her chair out for her and then pushed it back in once she was seated.

"So," Ellie said, leaning in. "You guys have known this one for a while. I'm sure you have lots of hilarious stories to share." She tossed Chris a grin.

"We're in public," Chris said, shaking his head. "Keep in clean."

Chris's friends shared stories as they ate the delicious five course meal. By the time they'd finished eating, they were all a little tipsy from their drinks and their faces hurt from laughing. Even Chris had joined in on the storytelling, dragging his friends down with him.

They all quieted down as the bride and groom shared their first dance as husband and wife. That dance was followed by the other traditional dances, but soon the lead singer of the live band invited everyone out on top the dance floor to work off their dinner.

Ellie had assumed she and Chris would sit out on the dancing, but his friends wouldn't allow it. She quickly found herself being pulled out onto the dancefloor with her hand clutched in Chris's. The first few dances were lively and upbeat, but then it switched to a slow song.

Before she and Chris had a chance to escape the dance floor, they were pushed together. After moving their hands from the awkward spots they had landed, they repositioned themselves so they were in a basic slow dance hold, with her hands resting on his shoulders and his hands on her waist.

As soon as the song was done, Chris grabbed her hand and made a beeline off the dance floor. Ellie laughed as he pulled her over to the bar and it was as they were leaving with drinks that they ran into the bride and groom. Chris introduced Ellie to them and, in the few minutes they spent with them, Ellie could tell that they were as genuine and sweet as Chris's other friends.

An hour or so later, their group sat at their table listening to the speeches being made by the wedding party and various other people. The toasts were immediately followed by the bride and groom cutting the cake and then the servers delivered small, personal-sized cakes to everyone.

By the time they'd finished eating their dessert, it was nearly midnight and the long day was starting to catch up to Chris and Ellie. They said their goodbyes to Chris's friends and then took one of the golf cart shuttles back to the main building where they were staying.

After Chris helped Ellie unzip the back of her dress, she went into the bathroom to get ready for bed. When she exited fifteen minutes later, she was wearing one of the hotel's fluffy white robes over her matching camisole and short pajamas.

While Chris was in the bathroom, Ellie admired her hair in the mirror, amazed that it still looked fantastic after so many hours. She was beginning to think that Gus the hairstylist was a magician.

Not ready to climb into the bed yet, Ellie grabbed her phone and sat down on the end of the chaise lounge. She laid back against the soft fabric and wondered if she shouldn't just sleep there with her hair cascading over the side.

When Chris came out of the bathroom, he shook his head and asked, "Are you coming to bed soon?"

"I think I'm going to sleep right here," Ellie replied, moving her head slightly so the still bouncy curls swayed over the edge of the arm. "Keep my hair from getting messed up."

"You are not sleeping on that thing," Chris said firmly. "You'll hurt your neck."

"But my hair looks so good, Chris!" Ellie pouted.

"Ellie -" He stopped when he realized he didn't know her middle name. "What's your middle name?"

"Elaine," she replied with a yawn.

"You're name is Ellie Elaine?" he asked, confused.

"No, Ellie is short for Elaine. My first name is Sarah," she explained.

"So why don't you go by Sarah?" he inquired.

"Because that was my grandma's name and she went by Sarah."

"Oh, I guess that makes sense," Chris replied. "What were we talking about again?"

"I believe you were getting ready to threaten me," Ellie stated.

"Oh right," Chris nodded. He cleared his throat and then in a stern voice said, "Sarah Elaine, you're not sleeping on that thing. I will carry you to the bed if I have to and I will lay on top of you to make you stay."

Ellie sat up and stared at Chris in shock. "You do realize you would crush me if you laid on top of me, right?" she asked.

"Oh, right," Chris said. "Well, I'd find some way to restrain you to the bed."

"Fine," Ellie sighed as she forced herself up. "Have it your way."

While she got into the bed, Chris adjusted the air conditioning of the room, turning it to a lower temperature. He then grabbed an extra blanket from the closet and tossed it to Ellie. He knew she liked to sleep in a cold room, like he did, but he'd learned that she was a bit of a blanket hog.

Climbing into the bed, Chris turned off the lights and pulled the blankets up to his chin. He heard Ellie rustling around next to him and waited for her to get settled before his closed his eyes.

Hours later, he awoke to her long hair fanned out across his face. Brushing it away, he looked over and saw that she was lying on her side facing him. Sometime during the night they had moved from their respective edges to the middle of the bed where a mere foot or so separated them from each other.

Unable to fall back to sleep, he watched her. He loved that her hair had returned to its natural form sometime during the night and it surround her like a lion's mane.

"Stop staring at me, you creeper," she mumbled.

Chris couldn't help but laugh.

Episode 7.25

Want to find me off tumblr? I’m @beccatheycallme on twitter. I also post my stories on AO3.

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noahreids · 6 years

Text

Beauty in the Aftermath (CS FF) | 3/14

Summary: Confronted with the sudden appearance of her birth parents, Emma, in a moment of panic, runs. She flees the diner, Storybrooke, the country. She finds herself a day later in the Dublin, Ireland Airport terminal wondering what the hell she has gotten herself into. With some fear, a little determination and a considerable amount of faking it along the way, she sets off on a trip she never planned on taking but needed more than she ever knew. She finds herself, she finds a Brit adrift on his own journey and finds out what home really means.

Rated: M (Sexual content in later chapters & some Irish whiskey along the way).

Also on: AO3 | FFN Tumblr: [ 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 ] Art!: Cover | Ch.1 | Ch.3 |

AN: Thank you for your continued support. I really can’t stress enough what a wonderful experience this is and it’s all thanks to you all. Would love to know what you think of this one!

Always, thanks to @shippingtheswann for the cheering and beta work (go read her wonderful story!!), @imagnifika for finding the heart of the story with her art, check out her chapter 3 set here! @halobxist & @meanderingcaptainswanmusings for everything xo. And please keep supporting all the other CSBB authors and artists. So.Much.Talent.

And now on dark narrow road in Ireland…

CHAPTER 3

“Archie, I’ll never forgive you,” Emma vows, speaking to her GPS. Her hands grip the steering wheel tightly, glancing quickly between the dark, narrow road ahead and the little picture of a car on the GPS screen suctioned to her windshield. In reality, she thinks, the road is barely more than a grassy path. She holds her breath as she slowly rounds another turn, her mirror brushing against the shrubbery on the side. She permits a quick glance to her passenger door and presses the button for her locks. She inches forward into the darkness suspecting she may never again see daylight.

After her poor start to the day, Emma had figured her mood would follow the weather, gloomy and gray but Ireland had decided it had other plans for her. As she had stood on the vast expanse of concrete, staring out at where the Titanic would have loomed over a hundred years earlier, the sun had poked out. The wind had still whipped a chilly breeze through her coat, but with her face tilted up to the rays, she’d been able to soak in some warmth. She had pulled out her phone determined to capture the moment, even if it had been just a selfie. And so as she headed back towards her car, she’d promised herself she would enjoy what Belfast had to offer.

She’d enjoyed it a little too much – not realizing the late hour after finding herself on a bike that fit twelve, blasting pop music, while one driver navigated the group of tourists and locals alike through the streets of Belfast. She’d picked up a postcard along the way and had each member of the group sign the back. She smiled at all the well wishes that had been inscribed. When she finally slid off the bike seat and apologized for not being able to follow the group on their pub crawl, she’d found herself in her car, hours behind schedule, with a quickly setting sun. She hadn’t been too worried; the drive should have been relatively straightforward and short.

Should being the operative word, because one wrong turn lead to another and now, hours later, Emma finds herself on a deserted road that may very well result in her death.

“American woman, aged twenty-six, found alone in her car. Lost for weeks, no food or water. Her GPS the only sound echoing in the black of night, the wrong direct--,” Emma’s mumbled news bulletin is interrupted by an electronic voice.

“Recalculating.”

She narrows her eyes at the screen.

The voice continues, announcing that after the next turn, her destination will be five hundred meters on the right. Emma says a small prayer and takes the turn. She sees dim lights in the distance, and after few tense beats, finally pulls up to her hostel. She takes a moment in the silence of her car to rest her head against the steering wheel and pulls in a few deep breaths.

Deep in, shaky out. Deep in, steady out.

Trying to ignore the tremble that remains in her hands, Emma goes through the motions of grabbing her suitcase and locking up. The bumpy front walk leads to a rustic wooden door. She opens it slowly and finds herself in a dark reception area. A stream of light filters in from the kitchen illuminating the empty front desk.

“Hello.”

Emma covers her heart and just manages to swallow her surprised hiccup at the softly spoken greeting. She glances down beside her just as a young man unfolds himself from a couch she hadn’t noticed. He leaves a laptop and earphones on his vacated seat and comes around to the reception desk, booting up an ancient computer.

“Hi, I have a reservation for tonight. Sorry I’m so late, I got a little lost,” Emma explains but trails off when she spots a familiar mop of dark hair at the kitchen sink. He’s elbow deep in soapy water, head bobbing to music she can’t quite make out.

Something warm tightens in her chest and she can’t help but feel a little pull towards the man in the other room. It’s silly really, if he turns around and sees her, he’ll probably want to do some running of his own but – with a trip so far filled with places and people she thought she would never see again, here he is; a face she recognizes and a name, Killian, that she’s already committed to memory.

But their ridiculous meeting and heated conversation from earlier in the day swims to the front of her mind and she forces her eyes away. It doesn’t stop her from yearning for a redo. Where she could calmly tell him it was her first trip abroad and that she was a little on edge. That most women wouldn’t take too kindly to a surprise in the form of a naked man in the women’s washroom but that maybe they could start over. She could smile and appreciate the way he would try to explain the misunderstanding.

Or she could sneak up the staircase and forget the whole thing. He probably thought she was nuts anyway.

Emma frowns and turns back to the hostel clerk who despite her daydreaming, seems to be waiting patiently for an answer.

“Oh, I’m really sorry. What was that?” Emma asks, hands twisting the strap of her purse.

“Just your name, please,” the clerk repeats with a smirk.

“My… oh! Of course, Emma, um, Emma Swan,” she bumbles through, her voice rising with each stumble. She bites her tongue and orders herself to calm down, but her heart has other priorities as it beats frantically in her chest. She dares a glance towards the kitchen and is held in place by eyes she knows are stupidly blue and dark eyebrows that raise in surprise.

She holds her breath a beat and before she can decide what to do, he gives her a small nod and turns back to the sink. She feels her whole body deflate and the earlier weight of the day back on her shoulders. She drops her eyes and tries to pay attention to the clerk as he informs her of the breakfast hours and check out times. After showing her ID and passing her credit card she dutifully follows the young man towards her room. She’s careful to keep her eyes downcast as they start through the kitchen, not wanting to embarrass herself further.

Her stomach grumbles and she realizes it’s been hours since she’d last eaten, too worried about reaching her destination to think about food.

“Are there any restaurants within walking distance?” she inquires and almost bumps into the clerk as he stops abruptly. Great, they were having this conversation in the kitchen now. The young man turns and gives her a look that clearly says, are you crazy, all the while feeling another set of eyes on her.

She chances a glance to her side.

Yup, stupid blue eyes watch the conversation unfold while he dries his hand on a towel.

“No, you would have to drive and most places stop serving at nine, unfortunately.”

Emma knows it had to be at least ten when she pulled into the hostel. She suddenly feels her throat tighten and the hot press of tears behind her eyes. She curses her stupid body. She knows it is just stress from the drive and being tired after a long day but it doesn’t stop the helpless feelings from welling up.

She shuts her eyes and takes a quick breath, praying she can get herself under control, at least until she gets behind closed doors. Then she can have herself a good cry and feel sorry for herself, after that she could try and figure out what was going on with her body and the emotional rollercoaster it’s on. At home she prides herself on always being so even. Emma Swan, quiet and steady. Emma Swan, reliable and cool. Yet, just a few days into her trip and that Emma Swan has gone missing and the new Emma Swan is barely treading water.

But, she musters a smile onto her lips and swallows against the lump.

“Yeah, of course. You said my room is at the top of the stairs? I’ll be fine thanks,” she pushes the words out and hopes the young man takes the hint, leaving her to her escape.

Thankfully the clerk shrugs and appears content to let her find her own way. He retreats back to his couch and computer, leaving her alone.

She tries to make a quick exit, tugging her heavy bag behind but she falters at the base of the staircase when her kitchen mate finally decides to speak up.

“Love, wait. I could fix you something to eat,” he offers and she’s pretty sure that small bit of kindness will cause the dam to break.

One tear slips out.

She doesn’t dare turn around.

“Thanks, but, um, I’ll be fine,” she calls out, voice cracking on the last word. She feels a real urgency now to hide away and takes the first step but is frozen in place as a warm hand closes over hers.

“Let me get that.”

He must take her shocked silence as an agreement because before she can say anything, she’s watching him take the stairs with her suitcase while she stands at the bottom.

“What, no, you don’t have to…” she says when her words finally catch up, but it’s pointless as he steps onto the top landing. She forces herself up the stairs after him.

“What do you have in here, a body? Maybe you’re the one I should be worried about,” he jokes as he finally turns to her with a smile. It falls as soon as he takes in the wet tracks on her face.

She drops her eyes and curses her tired, erratic emotions, wiping aggressively at her cheeks. She opens her mouth, determined to smooth over the situation with proper thanks and disappear into her room, maybe forever, but he’s already panicking, filling the silence.

“Shit. Apologies, lass. I clearly need to take a moment to think before I speak. Emma, right? I heard the lad say it when you checked in. I meant no ill will. Now, this morning, or even last night when I was clearly out of line. I think being on my own for so long, I’ve become a little rough around the edges.”

Emma opens her mouth to assure him it’s ok but he doesn’t pause.

“It all happened so fast this morning, I don’t quite know how we got so turned around. One moment I’d somehow managed to get you to sit beside me, the next I’d managed to put my foot in my mouth again. I assure you I’m not normally such a wanker.”

He reaches out, hesitates, and then gently brushes a tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb.

She watches him, eyes wide, as his hand falls back to his side and he shifts nervously. Gone is the bravado from their first two encounters and it makes her next move a little easier. She reaches out with her own hesitant touch, and squeezes his arm.

“Thank you.”

It’s quiet and it isn’t much but it’s sincere. Emma hopes it sounds more like please be patient with me. He must sense it a little because she watches as his body visibly relaxes and something soft flickers across his features. And as much as she had wanted to be left alone, she now wants to come up with something else to say, something to make him stay.

As she struggles to find her words, anything she could say, she quickly realizes she’s left more of who she thinks she is back in Storybrooke. That woman is able to trick the smartest criminals into getting caught, that woman can slip a smile on her face and chat up the locals and tourists alike at Granny’s. Well, that woman is missing and in her place is a stranger, unsteady and unsure.

She forces her eyes up to his and steels herself to say something, anything, but her breath catches as they lock eyes. His seems to search hers a moment before narrowing and giving her a tight nod.

“Do you like hot dogs?” he asks, serious.

Her nervous laugh comes out in a quick burst and her first reaction is to protest once again, a you don’t have to on the tip of her tongue, but as he bends to her level, dipping even more so to catch her downcast eyes, she clamps down on her bottom lip.

“Emma,” he whispers and something in her belly tightens with the way her names rolls off his tongue. He waits until she slowly brings her eyes to his. He pops an eyebrow and she relents giving him a small nod.

“One or two?” he asks and his grin is quick as she holds up two fingers. He grabs the digits in is hand and gives them a squeeze. “Good. It’s settled. Drop your stuff off and come meet me outside in the back when you’re ready. Grab a sweater, it’s actually a nice night and there’s a little fire pit, I think we could enjoy that, yeah?” he explains, not letting go over her fingers until she gives him a soft affirmation.

“Ok.”

He sways into her space a moment before giving her a final nod and hurrying down the stairs. She pulls her fingers into a tight fist, holding onto his warmth long after she lets herself into her room, leaning back against the door and catching her breath.

Emma steps into what she imagines is a sunroom during the day and takes a moment to stare out into the darkness. She can make out a few lights beyond the bluff, homes that rest on the edge of the inky blackness of the sea. She imagines herself for a second in one of those homes, the sounds of the ocean breaking through an open window, a hot mug of tea between her hands and the grip of warm hands on her hips but before she can let the reverie take her further, pops and hisses draw her attention to the side. She spots the orange glow of a fire, its flames dancing up towards the sky before noticing the two empty white plastic chairs. Her stomach is still tied in knots but suddenly it feels more like silk edges waiting to be gently pulled loose than the tight, frayed knot she is used to. She pulls the cuffs of her sweater into her hands and with renewed determination, pushes through the side door.

“You’re here.”

She doesn’t startle at his voice this time, instead a smile freely tugs at her lips as she seeks him out. She spots him off to the side, manning a little grill, hot dogs and buns looking ready. He quickly shuts off the gas and plates the food, head tilting towards a chair.

“Grab a seat. Ketchup and mustard?” he asks and she nods, slowly lowering herself to a chair. He adds the fixings to the dogs and hands her the plate before sitting beside her.

“Thank you. I don’t really deserve it after...” she trails off at his narrowed look. Her eyes drop to her plate while a hesitant smile pulls at her lips. So, she tries again. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now eat up.”

He kicks out his legs and crosses them at the ankles. She watches him another beat before her stomach grumbles and she gives in to her hunger.

While she’s had many good meals in her life, she can’t remember any being better at the moment and the small appreciative moan slips out before she can stop it.

She looks up and he’s watching her, amused eyebrow raised.

“Sorry,” she mumbles behind her hand.

He snorts but waves her off. He reaches behind him and comes back with two bottles of beer. He holds them up.

“Yes, please.”

He holds the bottles in the crook of his arm and easily pops the caps. Once he hands over her bottle, she holds the neck out and waits until he taps it with his. She holds his gaze and takes a deep breath.

“To second meetings.”

He smiles and she feels her heart pick up, he keeps his bottle against hers.

“May it leave you with better memories than the first.”

She rolls her eyes and watches him bring the bottle to his lips but just before she does the same she whispers, “They weren’t all terrible memories, I was quite fond of your little towel.”

She looks away before she can see his reaction but she does hear his cough. She hides her smile behind her sip.

Emma finishes her food and enjoys her beer, picking at the label while the fire before her continues to snap towards the sky. They sit in companionable silence, and with her belly full and the knowledge she isn’t alone, another knot slips loose.

As with most nights she’s experienced so far, there is a small nip to the air but with the wind down and the lick of heat from the fire, she couldn’t be more content. She watches the colors flare before chancing a look at Killian. She finds his eyes on the flames, the yellow-orange glow, dancing across his features. She allows herself a moment to just enjoy looking at him. His strong jaw, rough with stubble and the calm rise and fall of his chest, she finds herself matching it before bringing her eyes back up. After a moment, she sees the corner of his mouth tick up.

Caught.

But for once she doesn’t shy away embarrassed, instead she keeps her eyes on him, owning the blush that rises to her cheeks.

“Getting your fill, love?” he asks, eyes sliding away from the flames and landing warm on hers.

She sniffs a laugh and shrugs.

She enjoys the way his eyes widen in surprise before he gives her a once over of his own.

“You’re not what I...” he trails off and shakes his head seeming to think over his words. Emma decides to wait him out, see what he wants to say but he seems to change the direction of his thoughts.

“What brings you to Ireland? Have you been traveling long?”

It’s not the first time she’s been asked the question but it still takes her a moment to push away the guilt. She pulls her feet up onto the chair and wraps her arms around her legs, resting her head on her knees. She turns to the man beside her and he seems as comfortable as ever and happy to wait as she finds words for her reasons.

“I needed to do something for myself,” she starts and she surprises herself. It’s the closest answer to the truth that’s she’s given so far. “I don’t do that very often,” she whispers but at his slow nod, she knows he’s heard. He still waits.

“It’s only been a few days, so i’m still getting my bearings.”

She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. When she lets it out slowly and opens them, she finds he is still watching her. She likes it.

“Yourself? You said you’ve been on your own for awhile?”

He averts his eyes and she picks up on the tick in his jaw.

“Aye. I’ve been travelling for quite some time now. Years, to be completely truthful.”

“Wow. You don’t miss home?” her words slip out before she can give them much thought but as soon as they are out there and she can’t take them back, she’s not sure why she’s said them. Considering her own views on home are a little jumbled at the moment.

He hums in response, preparing to say something but he hesitates and it’s enough to let her know that he too can have his secrets. They are both hiding something, stories they aren’t willing to voice yet and Emma realizes that it’s okay. She would much rather enjoy the company than delve into things that hurt.

She speaks up before he can.

“I got lost on my way here. Didn’t think I was ever going to make it, I honestly thought I was lost to the Irish countryside forever,” she admits, propping her chin on her knees, eyes closed, enjoying the warmth.

She hears his quiet chuckle and counts it as a small victory.

“However did you make it out, love?” she turns to face him and debates how much she wants to reveal. He already must think she’s a complete mess, what does she have to lose? And really with the way his eyes are shining at her, if she can make him laugh again she only has something to gain.

“Well, after some fiddling with my GPS, I realized I had it set to no U-turns. Things straightened out once I made that correction.”

He throws his head back and laughs and she rolls her eyes but it’s the effect she was after.

“I perish the thought anything should happen to you. Perhaps you shouldn’t be left alone.”

Her blush returns and this time she stares ahead as her voice slips into the night air.

“Perhaps,” she whispers and her heart races.

What is she even saying? That she wants to see this complete stranger again? Hey, while you’re at it, besides making me dinner, want to be my chauffeur as well?

Stupid, Emma. He’s going to excuse himself. He’s going to get far away from her.

“Perhaps,” he agrees quietly.

And she doesn’t dare look at him for fear he would see all her thoughts reflected in her eyes. Instead, she lets the weighted statement hang between them and appreciates the moment. A moment painted in the, what could be, where the possibilities are endless and she’s left to her own imagination.

Where she isn’t alone.

“I know I look like the ultimate traveler,” his words break the silence and she focuses on him, a little shake of her head that he seems to enjoy. “But would you like to hear how I ended up hitchhiking in Copenhagen in my underwear, no longer a pair of pants to my name?”

Her laughs bubbles out and he grins.

“Absolutely.”

“Well, it all started with this guy named Merlin.” She settles in, putting up her hood and snuggling her hands into her sweatshirt pocket, watching the reflection of the flames dance in Killian’s eyes as he tells his story.

The next morning, the rain falls in sheets, changing patterns with the wind. It pounds against the pavement and rings off the tin roof but Emma takes it all in with a smile. Despite being up late the night before, she’s rested, filled with energy, nerves, and hope. With a last look outside she rests on hope and turns to quickly pack away the last of her things.

It had been well past two in the morning when her yawns had become too frequent to ignore. They’d poured a bucket of water over the fire and had slipped back into the hostel.

Away from the vastness of the outdoors and the crackle of the fire, silence had enveloped them as they padded down the dark hallway. It had layered the evening in a new intimacy, one that had Emma’s mind racing to catch up to all the different emotions she was feeling.

She hadn’t had time to form expectations for this trip, how could she? One moment she was at Granny’s the next, across an ocean. But even if she had, she certainly could not have expected to meet someone like Killian. The man made her skin flush and heart stutter, and for the first time in a long time, she wished she had an easier time letting people in.

She could still feel the warmth on her back where he bumped against her as she had paused at the stairs.

“I guess this is me,” her words had come out in a rush just as she had felt his hand grip her hip.

“Apologies.”

She’d glanced over her shoulder and even though she could feel him against her, his nearness surprised her. She felt his breath against her cheek and held her own. In the faint light of the hall she could see his eyes flick to her lips.

Or so she’d thought, it could have been a trick of the light.

“I’m just around the corner,” he’d whispered, “so I guess this is good...” he’d trailed off and she had to hold the banister as she felt his warm hand over her sweatshirt.

“Goodnight?” she whispered, more of a question than a statement.

“Yes, that’s, yes. Goodnight.”

And then his hand was gone but still he had waited. She’d searched for something to say, see you at breakfast? Where are you going tomorrow? They’d steered clear of any forward conversation over their evening. It seemed to be an unspoken understanding between them, but she suddenly, desperately, wanted to know.

She wanted to know if this would be the last she would see of him.

“Go on, lass. Make sure everything is fine in your room, I’ll wait here until I hear your lock.”

She had almost asked her questions, almost been brave but instead she’d nodded and taken the stairs slowly. She’d unlocked her door and turned. He’d waited, and although she could barely make out his expression, she’d heard him clearly.

“Goodnight.”

She echoed it back.

Goodnight wasn’t goodbye. She’d get her chance in the morning were her last thoughts before she gave away to sleep.

And that is why now, she hurries to pack her things so she can make her way to the kitchen.

It’s a testament to her excitement that her bag doesn’t feel as heavy as she hefts it down the stairs and even more so, that she greets a guest with a cheery hello as she passes them in the hall. She leaves her suitcase against the wall in the sunroom and puts on a brave face before following the murmuring of voices into the kitchen.

The scene is much livelier than the previous night. There are a half a dozen people milling about, a man already doing his dishes while two others chat at the kitchen table. She glances to the woman manning the stove, the sizzling sound of eggs being fried while toast pops up in the corner. Emma glances around, eager to find that now familiar mess of dark brown hair but she comes up empty. She forces the smile to remain on her face as she backs out and checks the chairs they had used the night before, but of course they sit unused, save for the heavy puddles and hard rain. She swallows against the lump in her throat and slowly makes her way in the direction he’d pointed to the night before.

The door sits ajar to the lone room at the end of the hall, she approaches it slowly but deep down she already knows what she’ll find.

He’s gone.

She pushes softly with the tips of her fingers and the door creaks open revealing an empty room, barely an indication someone had been there in the first place, save for the hastily folded blanket on the bottom bunk.

Emma sighs and as the seconds tick by, her embarrassment threatens to swallow her whole. Here she was excited to keep the feeling going from the night before and he – well clearly, he couldn’t leave fast enough.

She doesn’t bother with breakfast. She drops her keys with the clerk and escapes into the rain. She doesn’t hurry, instead she lets the rain dampen her hair and coat as she drags her bag behind her.

Once settled in her car, she allows a last glance to the little hostel by the sea before setting the car in motion.

Perhaps sometimes goodnight is goodbye.

Thanks for reading!

Tell me, what’s your favorite campfire food?

See you next week for Chapter 4!

#cs ff #cs fanfic #csbb #csbb 2018 #captain swan #cs au #captain swan big bang #lana writes cs #fic: beauty in the aftermath

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