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snowbellewells · 4 years

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A Birthday Gift for @itsfabianadocarmo

So I have been LOVING @itsfabianadocarmo‘s CSR Aesthetic Picsets, and especially the ones telling the story of an alternate S7 in Hyperion Heights, but where Emma was also present as a waitress named Eva Cygnet. Then, as @itsfabianadocarmo and I began to chat on here more, I learned we share the exact same date of birth! (What are the odds?!?) So, my birthday twin, I began plotting a little surprise for you. I hope you’ll like it. It’s just a little one shot to go along with your first picset in that series (which I have hopefully attached so those who haven’t seen it can do so HERE). I hope you’ll enjoy this - and maybe, if I get a few more WIPs finished, more will accompany this one!

Anyway, I hope you have the very best birthday!! I’ve so enjoyed getting to know you!! :)

“Marmalade and Tea”

by: @snowbellewells

“What about this place, Tilly?” Rogers questioned his jittery passenger with a sidelong glance as he eased his classic Chevelle into a parking space along the sidewalk. “Looks cozy, hmm?”

Though making a valiant effort to remain patient and upbeat, the vagabond sprite he’d taken into his home and his affections had already shot down every dining establishment in a two block radius and he had begun to fear none would suffice and they’d run out of options. Not for the first time, the worry struck him that he was ill-equipped for the needs and wishes of a young lass such as Tilly. But she was so lost, so vulnerable - scrappy and resourceful as she might first appear - that he hadn’t been able to leave her fending for herself. She tugged at his emotions more than he could understand. All he knew in that moment was that he was far too hungry to get by on the toast and marmalade Tilly usually wanted for supper.

His young companion cocked her head to the side, staring out the passenger window to study the kitschy little diner her detective had indicated. She bit her lip in concentration, and Rogers held his breath, hoping this one might be a winner, until finally she bobbed her tawny head, light-brown waves of her hair rustling as she did so. “Yep! Let’s check it out!”

Without further hesitation or doubt, Tilly flung her door open and hopped out onto the sidewalk excitedly. Shaking his head at the quick change in disposition, Rogers found himself hurrying after her as she practically skipped up the walk toward the diner’s entrance, humming cheerily to herself. For all her deliberation of moments ago, once Tilly made up her mind, he had to admit she threw herself into any given course of action with gusto and commitment.

Catching up to Tilly at the door, Rogers playfully bowed to her with a crooked grin and raised eyebrow, “After you, milady,” he teased in his lilting voice, as he held the door open for her to pass.

To his delight, she giggled, just as he had hoped, her face lighting up with glee at the simple moment of playfulness. Lifting her chin regally, she preceded him into the diner with a haughty toss of her hair, “Why thank you, good sir,” she returned.

As she spoke, her shorter form brushed past him in the entry, and Rogers felt a current of recognition run through him - freezing him in place. It was as if he had spoken those very words, heard her exact response, lived the entire moment before. He blinked, trying to shake his head clear of such impossible nonsense. Not only had he only known Tilly for a few months, but before that he had been utterly alone, no one in his life to joke around with - or even to enjoy a pleasant lunch with as he and Tilly were doing now. He had to be mistaken, and yet…

He glanced to the young runaway, now living in his spare room and filling it to the brim with her colorful, splashy paintings and sketches as well as the trinkets and treasures she picked up on her daily rambles while he was at work. She too appeared startled, wide-eyed as though she were trying to process something which had flashed across her mind’s eye before vanishing again.

For a second, superimposed upon his vision of Tilly before him, he saw a younger version of her, dressed in a pretty dress and pinafore, a much younger iteration of her face gazing up at him in adoration. It was all he could do to hold onto his breath. What was happening to him?

Afraid to share what he had seen, knowing Tilly’s grip on reality could already sometimes be fragile, Rogers tried to push the strange near-reminiscence and the image aside, gesturing toward the counter in question to see if TIlly would prefer a seat there in the tall stools rather than a booth. She too seemed to shake a dazed expression from her face, and nodded, hopping onto the nearest seat quickly. He noticed her agitation though as she softly drummed her fingers on the countertop and swiveled in her seat.

Rogers wondered briefly if he should ask her what was wrong or let her pretend. Should he find out if she had seen something odd as well, and if so, what? He hated to disturb the equilibrium she had recently found; dreaded upsetting her or encouraging flights from reality. So he bit his tongue with effort and held back his questions. Instead, he asked what she had been working on in her latest art piece, and Tilly launched into a detailed and enthusiastic description of the enchanted setting of some Wonderland in a book she’d read.

Just as he was drawing in a breath of relief and feeling normalcy return, their waitress arrived before them. “Hello, welcome to Ruby Red’s! What can I start you off with today?” The voice was welcoming and pleasant, but lower and less gratingly perky than often assaulted one’s ears in such small, cutesy restaurants. The detective had hardly even picked up his menu, much less perused his choices, and he flushed, embarrassed to the very roots of his dark hair, scruffy cheeks pinking and even the tips of his subtly pointed ears taking on the hue. Tilly noticed, and elbowed him with a snicker, causing Rogers to fumble with the laminated sheet of their offerings and bring up his stiff, gloved hand as well to keep from dropping the menu. He’d been too busy pondering over his strange reverie and observing his younger companion’s disquiet, but she seemed to have thrown that aside and resumed her jovial nature once more, so he attempted to do the same.

“Ah, hello Lass,” he offered awkwardly, reaching up to scratch behind his ear uncertainly and wishing for at least the hundredth time that he were a bit more suave and self-assured. “Sorry about that, haven’t quite made up my mind yet.” Looking to offer her an apologetic smile, Rogers nearly swallowed his own tongue at the sight before him.

Their waitress was stunning. Surely the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on. She was dressed simply in a sleeveless chambray button-down top and khaki skirt that came to mid-thigh toped with short red apron. Yet, even with her bright fall of blond hair pulled back in a ponytail and dark, plastic-framed glasses on her nose, she was dazzling to his senses.

“That’s quite alright,” she assured with an easy smile. “Maybe just your drink orders while you decide?”

“Right you are, Miss…” he paused, stumbling over his words and inherent politeness when he realized he didn’t know her last name. “Ah... Eva?” he finished sheepishly as his eyes found the small plastic nametag she wore.

Not seeming in the least put off by his nerves or fumbling manner - in fact, if Tilly, who was watching the exchange with a deviously pleased grin and avid interest, were any sort of judge, their pretty waitress seemed decidedly charmed. Nodding, the woman hurried to answer him. “Yep, Eva, that’s right. Eva Cygnet.” She reached out to shake his hand only to find that he hesitated to offer his, leading her eyes to fall on the prosthetic she had failed to notice. Rogers’ eyes fell to the countertop, lips pressed together in a firm line, but his head shot back up in surprise when she laid her hand atop his gloved replacement appendage, kindly adding, and holding his gaze until it was clear she meant her words and that the false hand didn’t bother her at all. “Glad you decided to visit us today, Mr. …?”

“Rogers,” the detective spoke up, confidence growing in his voice as he marveled at the woman’s simple kindness and understanding. “Joel Rogers, Hyperion Heights detective.” His cheeks flushed again, not sure why he’d added that part, but holding her gaze all the same.

Tilly, however, was now completely won over. Seeing the change that had come over her friend and benefactor in the short exchange with this Eva Cygnet, and just how amazed he seemed by her mere presence, Tilly was practically beaming. With a bounce of enthusiasm, she chirped, “Best on the force, that’s him!”

Ms. Cygnet chuckled easily, flattering laughlines crinkling the corners of eyes that might have seemed a bit tired when she first reached their seats, but now appeared friendly and amused. “Good to know,” she said seriously, turning her attention to Tilly then. “If we have any trouble here, I’ll know just who to call.”

Tilly nodded smartly, reaching out to shake Eva Cygnet’s hand readily and then adding, “And you don’t have to wait on my order, either. Could I just have toast with butter and orange marmalade and a glass of milk?”

Eva’s head tilted as if uncertain, and possibly even trying to decide if the younger woman was playing some sort of trick on her. She scrunched her nose in a thoughtful way that made Rogers want to reach out and tap the tip of it with his finger, an urge he barely managed to wrestle down. Finally, the waitress seemed to make up her mind, and with a shrug, jotted Tilly’s order on her pad. “If you’re sure that’s all you want, you can certainly have it. Our bread is baked fresh right here in our kitchen every day - and Granny makes the preserves herself as well - best I’ve ever tasted.”

“Granny?” Tilly repeated curiously as she looked at their server.

“Oh yeah, sorry,” Eva offered. “Mrs Lucas, the owner. Most of us have worked here forever, so it’s almost like family, and that’s what we all call her. She told me her name was Granny when she hired me.” Shaking her head, she leaned in closer to Tilly in a conspiratorial whisper. “We just finally got her to take a two week vacation for the first time in years. She went to Colorado to see her granddaughter and her husband and great-grandkids. He’s some sort of woodsman, forestry officer, something like that, and they live in a national park basically. Granny’s been thinking about it for ages, and Ruby - this place is named after her - keeps begging her to, saying she and Pete would love to have her stay with them. And so she finally did it!”

Tilly’s eyes were shining, looking as thrilled with the happy story as if she too knew the people Eva spoke of so fondly. “Wow,” she commented. “That sounds amazing.”

“Yup,” Eva confirmed, with a bob of her head, “but look at me gabbing on when you’d probably like your food sometime today!”

She turned to Joel then, a patient look on her face and pen poised to take down his order as well. He would never have assumed it had anything to do with him (it did) but she looked flushed and more than a bit apologetic, and he wanted to tell her that he would listen to her stories all day. She could read them the entire menu word-for-word, and he would welcome it if that was what it took to keep her near.

“What would you recommend?” he questioned instead, brow furrowing in consternation as he almost added “Love” at the end of his request.

Eva grinned, offering her pick without hesitation. “This may sound crazy. I’ve been told more than once I’ve got the palate of a 10-year-old, but I’d have the grilled cheese club. The bread’s all crisp and buttery and there’s this secret sauce and bacon in the cheese. It’s just melty, perfect goodness.”

Winking at her, badly, both eyes seeming to close as if unable to work independently, Rogers took her at her word. “Sold! That does sound delicious, maybe with a side of - “

“Onion rings?”

“Yes, exactly! Brilliant, Lass.”

“You have good taste,” Eva Cygnet offered sagely. “I’ll always pick onion rings over fries myself. And to drink?”

“Iced tea, please,” he concluded, handing his menu to her as Tilly did the same.

When she had taken off to place the order, assuring them it wouldn’t be long, Tilly nudged him repeatedly, looking all-too-excited. “Was that flirting?!?” she half-whispered, half-squealed in a tone that felt entirely too noticeable to Rogers’ ears. “Ohmygoodness! Adorable! I’ve never seen you like that, Detective!” More nudging and giggling followed, even after Eva returned with their food, until Joel honestly wanted to slide under the counter and out of sight. However, the food was as delicious as promised, and he found himself happy in a way he hadn’t been in some time - despite any lingering embarrassment.

Tilly seemed to feel the same satisfaction, even asking Eva when she returned with the bill and to hear what they thought of the food, if they sold the marmalade by the jar.

“Not yet, I’m afraid,” Eva laughed good naturedly as she rang them up. “Though I’ve been telling Granny she should.” She paused for a second as Joel offered her a twenty and her fingers deftly made change. “You’ll just have to come back often to have more.”

Her words were spoken to Tilly, but her glance darted over to take in the handsome dark-haired detective as well, hopeful as they studied his face quickly before flickering away again.

“That we will,” Tilly affirmed, her look bouncing back and forth between her friend and the waitress mischievously. “Don’t you worry.”

“Aye,” Rogers added with his own crooked smile, reaching out to take his receipt. “I’ve no doubt we’ll be returning often.”

His words cut off abruptly when he and Eva’s fingers touched. The thin cash register paper crumpled as their fingertips met, and his calloused fingers brushed her soft palm. Pictures flashed behind his eyes - of her golden hair cascading loose from her ponytail and his hand tangling in it, of her in a pale pink dress and his favorite leather jacket draped over her shoulders, the two of them sitting by the water somewhere passing a flask of rum back and forth, her fingers clutching at his collar desperately while she hauled him to her for a kiss, surrounded by green leaves and sticky humid air. It was all the more shocking for his having so recently experienced something so similar with Tilly, but if possible this with Eva Cygnet was even more intense. There was no way to deny what he saw - or the way it made him feel.

Eva said nothing, but was similarly arrested by pictures in her own mind: this man before her running his tongue along his lower lip as he flirts with her shamelessly, opening an old-fashioned spyglass with his mouth and then offering it to her as well, brushing her hair back over her shoulder with a hook at the end of his arm in place of the prosthetic, him standing with her by some sort of well, holding out a ring on a necklace chain.

Both of detective and waitress stumbled backward with similarly stunned gasps for air. Their hands fell to their sides, Rogers’ flexing unconsciously as if he had been shocked, and the receipt falling forgotten to the floor between them.

Neither were able to speak, until another customer behind them cleared his throat impatiently, and Tilly linked her arm through the detective’s, propelling him toward the door. “Thanks! We’ll see you soon.”

Eva moved to ring up the next tab, but her fingertips danced over her lips briefly, as if feeling the tingle of a kiss that didn’t happen. “Good,” she thought to herself. She could only hope those words were true.

Tagging just a few others who might enjoy (or have seen enjoying the aesthetic inspiration!) : @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @jennjenn615 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @tiganasummertree

#csr ff #cs alt s7 headcanon fic #csr oneshot #birthday fic gift #for @itsfabianadocarmo

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jonsa-creatives · 7 years

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Jonsa S7 Summer Challenge Day 4: Summer Nights

Submitted by: @myrish-lace-love

Summary: Jon and Sansa are neighbors in the same apartment building who’ve grown closer over the past several months, and they’re in a relationship now. Jon’s a veteran with PTSD, so Sansa’s found a park they can go to that doesn’t allow fireworks. Sansa’s friends Margaery and Jeyne are along for the camping trip. and Jon thinks Margery’s up to something. She is, but he’s wrong about her motivations.For @jonsa-creatives Jonsa S7 summer challenge!

Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here. Part 3 is here.

***

They got hustled off the beach when dusk hit, and strolled back to Jon and Sansa’s campsite.

Jon started to build up the fire in the big pit in the center of the lot. The park was packed, and they were surrounded on all sides by campers and trailers. But this spot had a few pine trees, which helped give it some privacy. The blue-green needles had fallen over many years and made a soft brown carpet on the ground.

Sansa went into the tent to change. She came out with her hair pulled back in a ponytail, wearing shorts and a light blue cover-up.

She looked worried.

Jon started to walk over, when Sansa motioned to Jeyne. Jon gave the two some privacy.

“Hey, short dark and handsome. Some help here?” Margaery had her hands full with tinfoil and corn on the cob.

They grilled up steaks and corn. Just like Jon had, on the deck of the boat when he’d been with Pyp and Grenn and Sam. Sam’s 25th birthday celebration, where he and the other guys had rented a boat and went sailing around the Virgin islands. He’d asked Sansa if he could write to her, and he’d been relived when she said yes. He’d mailed her a letter at each port. Every time he wrote he’d worked up the courage to be more open about how much he cared about her.

In his last letter he’d come so close to telling her he loved her, but he couldn’t quite do it. She’d still met him at the airport with a hug he’d probably remember for the rest of his life, and they’d started dating right after that.

Jon kissed her cheek, once they’d arranged themselves in a circle around the fire. She still tasted faintly of sunblock, and that made him smile. She pulled back, but her eyes were shining.

“Hey, what was that for?”

“The food.”

Sansa raised an eyebrow at him. Right. She probably needed more detail.

“It’s what we grilled after we all were finally done being seasick. When we were sailing in the Virgin Islands. Reminded me how happy I was that you let me write to you.”

Sansa was the only person we knew who could make eating corn off the cob look delicate. “I kind of felt like I was there with you, when you wrote.”

“That’s what I wanted.” The trip had been wonderful but he’d missed her. A lot. He’d written to tell her about the beautiful sites they were seeing.

“For me to feel like I was there, or for me to be there?”

Both, Jon thought, but before he could answer, Margaery tapped Sansa on the shoulder.

“We have a problem, dear.”

“What is it, Marg?” Sansa set her plate aside.

Margaery looked guilty. “Well, it was my job to pack the marshmallows, remember? For s’mores? Except I didn’t.”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “Marg…”

“I know, I know. S’mores. We gotta have them.” Margaery looked contrite, for once.

Sansa nodded solemnly, There was some kind of tradition at work here, that these three girls had built up over years of camping trips. Jon gathered that s’mores mattered, a lot.

Margaery glanced at the car. “Jeyne and I’ll go get them.”

Sansa brushed her hands off. “No, stay here with Jon. We might need to go to more than one store. Jeyne and I can make it quick.”

“Okay, Sansa. I’m sorry, I really am. I know how much you like to have everything ready for trips like these.”

Sansa gave Margaery a warm smile. “It’s fine, Margaery. It’s like old times, when Arya would forget something. Sleeping bags or sunblock or–“

“Tent stakes,” Jeyne broke in, and all three girls groaned together. “God, that sucked. It poured rain too.”

Sansa’s mouth was turned up at the corner. “Arya ran around like a little banshee in it, too. Shrieking at the top of her lungs. She was thrilled.”

Sansa dusted off her hands. “Okay Jeyne, surgical strike, ready?”

“Born ready, Sansa.”

“Perfect. You two, stay here, we’ll be back in half an hour.”

“Yes Mom,” Margaery and Jon said together.

After the car pulled away, Jon was left staring into the fire with Margaery on the log next to him. The sun was almost set, and the trees cast long shadows over the campfire. Night was approaching.

Thirty minutes had never seemed so long.

Margaery added wood to the fire, putting it just where Jon would have.

“So. Jon.”

Here we go. He did have to occasionally do a firmer brush-off, with some of the more insistent girls. He braced himself.

“I need you to explain to me, slowly and clearly, why you are making Sansa unhappy. And it had better be a good explanation.”

Margaery’s voice was sharp, sharp enough to make Jon look over at her.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I didn’t forget the marshmallows. They’re back at our campsite. I wouldn’t do that to Sansa on a trip like this. Nobody fucks with s’mores, so just jot that down.”

Margaery poked at the fire again, “Fortunately, she bought it. Anyway, spill. I want you to explain to me why my best friend keeps asking me whether her boyfriend thinks she’s attractive.”

Jon felt the earth shift underneath him. “I do,” he said. “I do, I think she’s beautiful.”

Margaery looked at him skeptically. “Do you make her feel that way?”

“I’ve told her.“ He had, he’d written it down, he’d whispered it in her ear…

“And you’re doing such a bang-up job that she’s pulling me aside on her vacation to ask if maybe I’m more your type that she is.”

Jon was angry, angry that Margaery was bringing this up. And angry, too, that he’d made Sansa uncertain about how he felt.

“You’re not my type,” Jon said through gritted teeth.

That had probably been too direct.

Margaery smiled. “I know. I told her if you think that poor, besotted boy has eyes for anyone but you, you’re crazy.”

She stared at the flames with her shoulders slumped. “It is a little blow to my ego.”

Jon tried to dredge up some kind of excuse this time, just out of politeness, but Margaery looked at him and chuckled.

“You are pretty gullible, huh? Don’t bother. Don’t care a bit. What you do need to do is make her feel wanted.”

Jon said nothing. If Margaery didn’t understand how tense Sansa was when she kissed him, he sure as hell wasn’t going to explain it. He wasn’t sulking. He was just protecting Sansa’s privacy.

Well, maybe a bit of both. He looked away, at the pine tree near the tent. At least we’ll have some shade. Hopefully we won’t be too hot in our sleeping bags in the morning.

If Sansa even wanted him to join her. If he hadn’t managed to botch this…

Jon was so lost in thought that Margaery’s voice startled him.

“She’s asked me if there’s something wrong with her.”

That roused Jon out of his bad humor. “There’s nothing wrong with her.”

Margaery tilted her head. “Wow, you are kind of like a wolf when you get passionate, she’s right. Lucky her.”

Jon felt like his head was spinning. Wolf? Lucky? What?

“Anyway, all I’m saying is she’s she doesn’t know how you feel. She knows you like her, but she doesn’t know if you want her.”

Margaery flipped her hair away from her face. “Don’t get me wrong. Your letter serenade – by the way don’t ever let anyone tell you that you don’t have a flair for the dramatic, because fancy stationary and handwritten letters and seriously? – convinced her you care about her. But it’s been what, two months? And all you’ve done is kiss her. You only ran your hand under her shirt once. She says that was just to steady her. I told her to try sucking on your tongue but–“

“Whoa, Marg, please.” Jon was pretty sure he was beet red. He’d heard plenty of guys brag about girls. But it was always very vague. This was almost a clinical level of detail.

Margaery smirked. “Too much? That’s how we talk. Anyway, you’re holding back.”

Jon felt his anger rise up again. “It’s not your business, Margaery.”

“She made it mine, when she asked me, and I’ve known her for eight years, not eight months, so forgive me if I’m pretty sure I know better than you do when she’s worried.” Margaery’s green eyes were fierce.

Not to be trifled with, Jon thought.

He nodded. “All right. Fine. That’s fair.”

Margaery picked up a bottle cap and fiddled with it. “It might not just be you, you know. She’s – well, this is really her story to tell, but she had a boyfriend a few years back who was a rare combination of whiny bitch and vicious asshole. He broke some of her confidence. Part of why I’ve been encouraging her to go after you.”

Jon was stunned. “You have?”

Margaery tossed the cap into the fire. “Encouraged her to see you were courting her like something out of an old-time movie. Look, you two seem good together. Just – remember she might need reassuring.” Margaery turned to him again.

“And if you hurt her, I will make it my mission to destroy you.”

Jon had seen sniper’s eyes, and he knew when a threat was real. There was steel in Margaery’s gaze.

“She’s lucky to have you,” Jon said cautiously. He cleared his throat. “I’ll tell her, when she comes back, that it’s not you—“

Margaery threw her hands in the air. “Don’t mention me, you adorable idiot! Just focus on her, okay?”

“Okay. I’m…I’m sorry, Marg.”

“That you thought I was a grasping bitch trying to snatch Sansa’s boyfriend away?” Margaery gave him a dazzling smile.

He didn’t see any point in denying it. “Yeah.”

Margaery patted his arm. “Don’t be. Make it up to me by making her happy. Whatever that means to her. Got it? I sacrificed s’mores cred for you, and I hardly know you, so you owe me.”

“Got it.”

Jon heard the car pull up onto the gravel before Margaery did. Thank god. Not that he didn’t have a lot to think about.

Sansa and Jeyne hopped out.

“Hey you two!” Jeyne called. “The store was packed, so we had to drive two towns over–“

“Because s’mores are happening,” Sansa finished.

Margaery smiled. “Hit me with ‘em Jeyne.” Jeyne lobbed the bag to Margaery, who caught it easily.

“It’s chocolate time.” All three girls got the same dreamy expression on their face. Jon wondered if they knew how similar they looked.

Margaery nudged him. “Stop smirking Snow. Just because you don’t understand the orgasmic power of chocolate-“

That was more than enough of that. “Anyway I’m going to go – check the tent stakes.” he muttered.

Margeary took Jeyne’s hand. “I’ve got some really good Oberyn gossip for you doll. Let’s head back to our place.”

Jeyne pouted. “No campfire stories?”

“Maybe tomorrow. It’s really juicy, I promise.” Margaery gave Jon a pointed look over her shoulder as Margaery and Jeyne strolled away to their campground.

#JonsaS7Summer #Jonsa #Jon x Sansa #Day 4: Summer Nights #submission

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myrish-lace-love · 7 years