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pitifulbaby · 1 year

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break down

summary: your car was old and finally gave out after rehearsal, now you have to walk all the way to the shop to find your boyfriend, Eddie Munson.

pairings: Mechanic!Eddie Munson x Fem!Ballerina!Reader

warnings: reader is mentioned as having hair long enough to be put in a bun, flufffffffy

a/n: so i have been writing this for a while so i hope it is good? anyways enjoy the reading! 2.4k words

stranger things masterlist

It was safe to say you hated your car right now. The night had settled in along with a chill. Now the cold wouldn’t have been bad if it weren’t for the fact you weren’t dressed properly for the brisk wind. All you had to cover you was your black leotard, light pink tights, a pair of sneakers, a thin skirt wrap and a random long sleeved shirt that was loose on your torso.

It was a normal thing you wore on Tuesday, the usual outfit needed for ballet class. But right now you really hated it, along with your car- which you despise most of all.

Of course the car had to break down, and in the middle of a cold snap. It had been much warmer when the sun was still up. But now that night had fallen and settled down, the cold only seemed more bitter as it nipped at each and every inch of skin not covered, seeping through your thin tights and encasing you in nothing but cold. If you exhaled you could see your breath.

Needless to say, it was very cold.

You were still parked in the lot of the dance studio, brows furrowed in as you tried to start the car again. But it would turn out like the last time, stuttering, stuttering.. And then, nothing. The engine huffed and puffed out nothing but air and an obnoxious sound before rattling to silence. After that you tried once more only for nothing to happen at all. With a groan you smacked your hands against the steering wheel, letting your head fall back against the headrest.

You knew nothing about cars, only that your car was old and on her last leg- and that leg might have just given out. It was a bit ironic that you knew nothing about cars and your boyfriend Eddie Munson was a mechanic at the local shop.

He was always telling you to bring your car into the shop so he could have a look at it, he knew it wasn’t in the greatest shape. But you always declined it, saying the car was fine.

You knew you didn't really have the money to get your car fixed- though Eddie has told you time and time again he wasn’t going to charge you for anything. But you would feel bad if you didn’t pay for his services.

And right now you really regretted not letting him at least take a look. You were stranded, everyone else had gone home and all the shops around were closed for the night.

Your saving grace was knowing that the shop Eddie worked at was only a few miles down the road and he was working late tonight. You knew you would be able to walk to the shop, but the thought of venturing off in the cold at this time of night wasn’t ideal- but, there wasn’t really any other option.

With one final turn of the key, with the outcome of nothing- you decided to brave the cold and venture the walk to Hawkins Mechanical Shop.

You had speed walked to the shop, hoping to break a sweat to combat the cold. But the cold wind was too strong to even give you a hint of any heat on your body. It took you longer than you would’ve liked to get to the shop, old sneakers padding against the concrete sidewalk- passing under street lamps, passing by signs that you didn't care to read. You just wanted to get inside a building and feel the heat encase your body once more.

Step after step, closer and closer till the only sign you wanted to see was finally ahead of you, letting out a breath of relief as you closed in on the door. The garage doors had been closed for the night, hoping to keep the cold out- but you knew the store was still open. Reaching forward you twisted the door open, stepping into the warmth with a shuddering breath.

“Welcome in, just letting you know we close in-” The sound of Eddie’s voice rings out through the shop, steps echoing as he gets closer. Soon you catch sight of him, his coveralls adorning his frame, curls pulled back into a low bun at the base of his neck. He is wiping grease from his hands with a cloth, his eyes lighting up and a smile slowly pulls at his face.

“Hey sweetheart, I didn’t hear your car drive up.” Eddie spoke through a smile, stepping close to you and taking you in. You two were quite a pair right now- from your dainty ballet getup to his oil clad coveralls. You watch as his eyes scan behind you and out the glass door- his brows furrowing in softly as he steps closer. “Where did you park?”

With a sheepish smile and an awkward laugh you shifted from foot to foot, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Honey- did your car break down? Please tell me someone drove you here.” You could see the slight panic in his eyes and hear it in his voice as he placed the rag down on the front desk, stepping closer to you before he placed his hands on your arms.

His brows furrowed in at the fact that the clothing felt cold to the touch, his eyes scanning you over again and seeing you in better light. Your body had a small shiver to it, he soon placed his hands on the sides of your face, hissing at the feeling of how cold you were.

“Shit! Sweetheart you are freezing, c’mon I have my sweatshirt in the breakroom.” He mumbled out, pulling you in and keeping you close as he walked you into the breakroom. Once you two were stepping into said room, he brought you over to the couch- watching you sit down before he was grabbing his sweatshirt that was thrown over the back of the couch.

A moment later he is kneeling in front of you, helping you out of the thin long sleeve shirt- he knew you didn’t really like the feeling of multiple layers of long sleeved shirts, plus the sweatshirt of his was rather thick and would help fight the cold. Once out of the long sleeve he was helping you into the sweatshirt. After the sweatshirt is placed onto your body, he lets his hands run up and down your legs in hopes of creating some heat. “Why don’t you tell me what happened, yeah?” He asks quietly, looking up at you.

His question only makes you let out a groan, letting yourself flop back against the back cushion of the couch- causing him to laugh at your antics. “Yeah?” He asks with a smile.

“My fucking car,” You start, digging the palms of your hands into your eyes- rubbing them, causing bursts of light to emit from behind your eyelids. He tuts softly, reaching forward and pulling your hands away from your eyes. You feel the couch dip down as he sits down next to you, his body turned to face you. “There I am, a long day of dance- my feet are aching from being on pointe-” You started, letting yourself be a bit dramatic, a habit formed from dating the king of dramatics himself.

“We had to stay longer today, I can’t even remember why. And so I get in my car, everyone had already left because before I even tried to start my car I was taking my hair out of the bun- the pins were really digging into my scalp. And I put in the key and it just, it doesn’t start. So I try again.. And again. And nothing!” You exclaim the last part, shoulders sagging. “All the stores around were closed, it was literally just me. I just decided to walk here then.” With a frown you look to Eddie who is already looking at you with a small frown.

“Please don’t tell me ‘I told you so’ about my car.” You interrupt him before he can speak anything else, pulling your legs in as you turn to sit facing him. “I just wish you didn’t walk here all by yourself, it's dark and freezing out.” He replies, scooting closer to you and placing a hand on your cheek.

You simply shrug at his response, “It was either sit and freeze in my car, try and fix said car myself and hope i don't explode, or walk here. And I didn’t feel like becoming a popsicle in my broken car- plus exploding didn’t sound enjoyable either, though I would be warm.” You let your words trail off at the end, pursing your lips in thought. Eddie lets out a fake gasp, his hand shifting from resting against your cheek to squishing your cheeks in, leaning forward and pressing a soft peck to your lips.

“Don’t even joke about my sweet girl exploding!” He says with a fake sob, his other arm coming to wrap around your waist and pull you against him. His hand moves from your face to rest on the back of your head, his face coming down to press a kiss to the underside of your jaw. A few loose strands of his hair tickle your skin, the scruff on his face scratching against you oh so softly. His words cause you to laugh, letting your own arms wrap around his neck loosely.

You ignore the bits of oil and grease that transfer from his coveralls to your tights and his sweatshirt that adorns your body. That would be an issue for later, and at this point you have figured out the perfect ways to easily clean the mess from clothes. You feel him let out a content hum against you, pulling away to look at you fully. “Hi,” He says with a bright smile, which in turn causes you to let out a laugh, smiling just as bright as him. “Hey handsome.”

His arm unwraps from around you, letting his hand smack against his chest. His other hand falling against his forehead in a swoon. Eddie lets himself fall back against the armrest, “Handsome?” He says with a forced crack in his voice, tilting his head forward- chin on chest as he looks at you. “You can’t call me handsome like that, I might just have to make out with you- or worse.” He speaks out.

With furrowed brows you tilt your head, “Worse?” You whisper it out, he simply nods, sitting back up. He reaches out a hand once fully sitting back up, his face close to yours. His hand gently pats your cheek, “Worse.” He says with a fake sad face. Though you knew his ‘worse’ really couldn’t be bad, honestly knowing him it would just mean more than making out. But you didn’t think doing anything like that in the breakroom of his work place was a good idea- at least not today.

He lets his hand push some of your hair out of your face, from it being up in a bun and pins it had a bit of an odd wave to it- plus being windswept from the walk, it was a bit of a mess. But it wasn’t like Eddie minded, no, he loved you and the way you looked no matter what.

Before any of you could talk anymore, your mouth is dropping in a yawn, eyes scrunching shut as you hide your face in your hands to yawn. Eddie lets out a quiet laugh, pulling your hands away from your face. “You tired?” He questions, pulling you close. With an arch of a brow you shake your head looking at him.

“No, I just like yawning.” You say with a straight face and a monotone voice. Your words seem to cause Eddie to gasp, “I do not enjoy the sass!” Eddie says, his hands coming up to squish your cheeks in, causing your lips to purse and pout once again. With your lips pushed out he is moving in to peck your lips before pulling away, letting go of your cheeks to slide his hands down your neck, and to your arms. “You wanna go home, pretty girl?” His tone is more soft than before, which- in turn, causes you to nod your head.

You really did want to go home, soak in the bath for a bit and then crash for the night with your man. Eddie looked down at his watch, seeing that it was time to close up shop for the night. With a kiss to your forehead he is jumping up, stating that he is gonna go make sure everything is good for the night.

Eddie is rushing around the shop, making sure the back door is closed and locked as well as the garage doors, turning off the radio that was playing a quiet hum of music- much different than the usual metal that is playing. He is turning off the lights in the bathrooms, office and such before he is back standing in the doorway of the breakroom. Keys in his hand and wallet in his pocket. “Ya’ ready pretty?” He questions you, which in turn you smile and nod, he puts his hand out- causing you to nearly jump up and rush to him. Grasping a hold of his hand and leaning into his shoulder with a content noise.

He leads you two out the front door, locking said door behind you both once you two are outside. Not even five seconds later he is letting out a hiss, pulling you close with furrowed brows. “Fuck! It's freezing out here, I can’t believe you actually walked all that way.” He speaks, words a little shaky as he is pulling you to his van, opening the passenger side door for you and helping you inside. Once you are in he is closing the door, basically sprinting to the drivers side and nearly throwing himself in. He turns to look at you, “Do you need to get anything from your car?” He questions you, putting the key in the ignition and turning on the car, he turns the heat on and nearly moans as the warm air hits him.

With a shake of your head he is then pointing to the seatbelt, “Seatbelt safety.” He mumbles to you, leaning over the console to press a kiss to your cheek. Of course you then put on the seatbelt as he does the same for himself. “The next order of business is, get home and we are taking a warm bath- bubbles and all.” He says with a nod, causing you to laugh happily, leaning back in the seat.

And that was just what you two did when you got home.

#eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #mechanic!eddie #mechanic!eddie munson #mechanic!eddie munson imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #mechanic!eddie munson x reader #pitifulbaby #mechanic!eddie munson imagines

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bryngmemoney · 3 months

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✁FASHION FLIRT✃

Megumi Fushiguro x Reader

⭑story masterlist link

tw:none

Writing in between messages!!

🪡Chapter Thirty-three: Rehearsal

“These are actually really good,” Megumi said, digging his fork through another piece of the pancake. “Not too sweet?” you asked him.

“Not too sweet,” he confirmed.

“Are you excited for the show?” Megumi put a hand over his mouth, making sure not to completely swallow the food he had in his mouth before answering. “More nervous, but everything’s been going good at the past rehearsals, so hopefully this will go over well.”

“You’ll do great, you won’t mess up promise,” you smiled at him, returning your attention to your food.

“Hope so.”

“Looks good to you?” you asked Megumi as you helped adjust his hair a little more. “Yeah, looks better honestly.” You smiled at him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“Y/n can you help me out, the hair in the back doesn’t wanna stay,” Ino spoke up a few feet besides you two. “Hm? oh yeah sure.”

You stood up straight, moving over to help style his hair back. “Thanks, sorry didn’t wanna bother but I couldn’t get it.”

“Yeah don’t worry, I’m not the best either at this but we have help around too just in case.”

Just as you were finished adjusting Ino’s hair, Megumi spoke up “Y/n I just noticed this parts uneven.” You looked over, stepping back towards Megumi. “Which part?” you asked placing your hand on his shoulder.

He stared at the mirror for a second, before meeting your eyes in it. “Oh never mind, I think I was just looking at it wrong.”

“Y/n!”

You turned around to the calling of your name, seeing Inumaki spin Yuki around towards you. “Look Y/n your friend did a great job! I love it!” Yuki announced. “Wow, you do look great Yuki!”

“And they said it wasn’t the same thing,” Inumaki nodded his head towards another station where Maki and Nobara where currently working.

You saw Maki and a volunteer assistant happily working on Kirara, with Choso looking up in your guys direction, eyes on Yuki, and Yuta happily chatting away with them. Next to them you could see Nobara argueing with Sukuna trying to get something on his face but his hand kept swatting it away. A nervous looking Kamo slowly inching away from them.

“Alright, we can chill for a few, we’ve got 10 minutes before needing to be in the backstage.”

“Good luck,” you told Megumi. “It’s still just practice, save it for the actual show.” You both leaned against a wall in the backstage area, seeing everyone file in to get lined up in order.

“You know the project?” Megumi brought up.

“Photography?”

“Yeah,” Megumi smiled at you, “I got an A, said it was nice to see me try something different.”

“Different? In what way?” you questioned

“He said it was nice seeing a more personal touch from me.” You looked at him, giving him quick peck on the cheek. “Good, you deserved it, it was beautiful, well at least to me.”

“Get lined up you can have your moment later,” Maki said approaching you two, “We gotta start heading out,” she told you. You raised your hand slightly, “See you in a few then.” Megumi returned the gesture, “See you.”

Author’s Note: more megumi fluff :3

ok one more chapter and a little epilogue left after this one

also guys i’m prob gonna post a poll for the next smau to do cause i can’t decide btwn two 😭😭 so that’ll be up tomorrow too

hope you guys enjoyed!!

Taglist below, feel free to comment or dm me to be added for the last chapter!!

TAGLIST

@iridescentrays @gumimegz @maya-maya-56 @mamafly @lunavixia @swissy23 @coltsgf @m00nglad3-mp3 @etsukis @xosren @qtnfer @oengleli @harek89 @y-sabell-a @morgyyyyyyy @getolvr @liliumaraneae @k3lbade @aiieera @dancedancey @get0sfav @chuyasthighs0 @hyssoplampflickers @kpopanimen @sad-darksoul @vivi-loves-penguins @kasumitenbaz @talkingsperm @nymphsdomain @inlovewithlondonn @rzcnlb @enchantingkitty @fuyuzemi @lysaray @ni-ki-ismyluv @reneny @frumira @mixzimi @miralunaela @dreamxiing @p3achiee @anianurst @fishii28 @arguendo @samutoru @hallothankmas @invisible-mori @aiserex @all-in-the-fandoms @milza12 @nyxlai @daintyminho @tokyodarlng @molovs @hopeladybug @dazaisms

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security-chief-odo · 6 months

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The Fake Dating Job - Chapter 2

Eliot Spencer (Leverage) x Reader

Read chapter 1 here

Word Count: ~1.6k

Summary: The rehearsal and rehearsal dinner kick off the wedding weekend. Will your family believe your lie, will you be able to keep your feelings a secret from Eliot?

• • •

In the weeks before Eliot and you had already laid out an iron-clad backstory and decided that some PDA would be necessary when your family is around. Even with your plan falling into place, getting in the car to go has you beyond nervous. Though you can’t say your family is what has you so nervous about this trip anymore.

The wedding venue is a two hour drive from the loft and Elliot insists on driving, an offer you gladly accept so you could get a nap in before dealing with the chaos this weekend has in store.

Both you and Eliot are nicely dressed already as you were heading straight to the rehearsal dinner. Eliot is donning a light gray suit that fits him a little too well. You’re wearing a cocktail dress, which leaves you shivering as the evening chill rolls in with the sunset as you near the venue.

You stir from your slumber to the sound of Eliot whispering your name. At some point during the drive he must have taken his jacket off because you now found it wrapped around you like a blanket.

There is no way you’ll survive this weekend if just the smell of his cologne on his jacket has you ready to confess your feelings, but it’s too late to back out now.

Finally looking out the window, you see you’re at the wedding venue, so you sit up as Eliot gets out of the car. You stretch lightly as he opens your car door. He takes the jacket and folds it on his arm, offering you his other hand to help you out of the car.

“How do I look?” you look down at your outfit before looking up at him for an answer.

“Almost perfect, may I?” he asks. You nod and he begins adjusting your necklace that had gone askew as you rested, then he fixes the few strands of hair that no longer laid as neatly as before. “Now you look perfect.”

Your face flushed as you looked into his eyes, “Thank you again for doing this whole thing for me. You’re really saving my ass here.”

“Happy to help darlin’” He offers you his arm to hold as he gestures towards the doors.

The rehearsal goes off without a hitch, and you now find yourself seated at the restaurant, with Eliot’s arm resting on the back of your chair.

He is sitting next to your mom who just can’t seem to get enough of him. As she regales him with stories about your family drama, he moves his hand to rest on your thigh, just above your knee. Your breath hitches as he absentmindedly traces his thumb across your leg.

Neither you nor Eliot have been drinking much, but the flush on your cheeks could have the whole room fooled.

Your mom, on the other hand, is just past tipsy when Eliot excuses himself to go to the bathroom. As he gets up he presses a kiss to your temple, “I’ll be right back sweetheart.”

You not-so-subtly check out his ass as he exits the room and you take a sip of the glass of wine you've been nursing all night. Your mom leans in and tells you “That man is a keeper.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Do you not see him y/n?” your mom is looking at you incredulously, “He’s gorgeous, a perfect gentleman, and don’t even get me started on the way he looks at you.”

So maybe it wouldn’t be too hard to convince your family of your relationship after all. Eliot has clearly already sold your mother on it, perhaps a little too well. “I don’t know, mom. I’m not sure he’s as into me as I am into him. It’s only been a couple months anyways”

You figure sprinkling in the truth will make it more believable when your eventual “break up” happens, and at least they'll feel bad enough to comfort you once you're through breaking your own heart. You put yourself in this situation, so you swallow your disappointment down with another sip of wine.

“Honey, Eliot looks at you like you hung the moon and stars,” she pauses, seemingly lost in thought, “ I think you’re wrong about him.” She shrugs and walks away to go talk to your sister.

You can practically feel your blood run cold as James, your ex-boyfriend, approaches you for the first – and hopefully last – time this weekend. “You should listen to your mother. You’re definitely wrong about your new boy toy.”

He clearly has only caught the last bit of your mom’s statement. A fact that becomes more evident as he continues on with his drunken rambling. “He probably only came here with you because you’re dressed like a fucking whore. He just thinks he can get some, but that’s not gonna happen. We both know you’re still not over me.”

“Fuck off, James.” you spit out quietly, hoping not to make a scene.

“Why? Can’t handle the truth sweetheart?” That word had felt so right when Eliot had said it, but it now felt like poison on your ears.

“Don’t call me that.” you move to walk away but he blocks your path.

“Oh,” he laughs with a venom to his voice that is all too familiar to you. “Now I get it, maybe pretty boy is right. You did move on – by moving under every guy in town. Maybe this one’s just bored enough to keep a slut like you around, at least until the next girl with daddy issues and–.”

Before you could get another word in, Eliot comes to your rescue. He isn’t exactly sure what is happening but his heart breaks a little when he sees the relief cross your face at his arrival. He wraps a protective arm around you “Hey beautiful,” he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. This left James to walk away in a huff.

Eliot pulled you into a hug, kicking himself for ever leaving you alone. He excused himself to the bathroom just to collect himself. Every time he holds you, every time you brush his hair back, every time your eyes meet, he feels terrified you’ll figure out just how in love he really is. He has been in love with you from the moment you joined the team.

He is supposed to be here to make your weekend easier, but let you down because he can’t control his emotions. He whispers in your ear, “You ok?” and his body relaxes when you nod against his chest.

Pulling away, you rest a hand on his chest while his hands settle on your waist. “He’s just drunk and thinks he can still get under my skin. It’s no big deal, really.”

“Well why don’t we head back to the hotel anyways? Tomorrow will be a long day” Your heart sinks a little, knowing that behind closed doors, you’ll just go back to being friends. No arm around you, no hand resting right above your knee, and no more kissing.

***

You get your key card from the front desk and grab your bags from the car. Opening up the door to the room, you stop dead in your tracks. Your sister had booked you a single bed. Of course she had. You were staying with your “boyfriend”, so what else would she have done?

Eliot enters behind you and notices your predicament. The way you’ve frozen confirms all of his fears about how you feel about him. “It’s ok, I’ll just call down for some extra bedding and I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“No, I’ll do that. You’re doing me a favor. The least I can do is let you have the bed.”

He moves closer, some of the nervous tension having dissipated, “Darlin’ you’ll be up and on your feet all day tomorrow, in heels no less. You need it more than I do.”

“Well I’m not going to sleep unless you take the bed.”

“Well I won’t either until you do. Two can play at this game sweetheart.”

You’d be lying if you said the pet names didn’t make you feel something, and maybe that’s why you say “Well then I guess we’ll have to share.”

The challenging look in your eyes as you stare Eliot down fills his body with a familiar warmth, and maybe that’s why he replies, “I guess so.”

With that resolved you grab your pajamas and take a quick shower before heading to bed. When you exit the bathroom in your short shorts and tank top, Eliot is lying shirtless on his side of the bed with a movie playing on the TV.

An almost silent tension fills the room as you both struggle between checking the other out, and desperately avoiding checking the other out for fear of being caught.

You climb into bed and settle in, watching the movie Eliot had turned on. He had been watching 10 Things I Hate About You, so you turn to him with a questioning look and wordlessly point to the TV.

Immediately defensive, “What? This is a goddamn cinematic masterpiece.”

“Fair enough. Just didn’t peg you for a rom-com kinda guy.”

“Well there’s plenty you don’t know about me y/n”

With your amusement evident in your voice, you reply “Goodnight, Eliot”

“Goodnight, doll.”

You both drift off to sleep, only dreaming of each other’s touch.

• • •

Taglist: @mini-kunoichi @javicstories @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky @being-worthy @xkell-bellx @imaginecrushes

Let me know what you think or if you want to be added to the series taglist!

Read chapter 3 here!

#reader insert #eliot spencer x reader #eliot spencer/reader #leverage fanfic #there was only one bed #one bed trope #leverage fic #wedding #the fake dating job #fake dating #eliot spencer #eliot spencer fanfic

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sissytobitch10seconds · 15 days

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Two Birds on a Wire

Fandom: Helluva Boss Summary: After getting trapped with his ex-boyfriend in Greed, Blitz ends up saying a lot of stupid stuff that makes his life better in the long run. Warnings: Past underage sex, pregnancy, trans male pregnancy, mpreg, and kidnapping Word Count: 4,883 Ship(s): Asmodeus/Fizzarolli and Stolas Ars Goetia/Blitzo Buckzo

Archive link!

A/N: Another fic for my wonderful mutual(@lovely-number-7)! They give me so much inspiration for this and encouragement to keep going. I added some surprises for them so everyone is going into this fic on an even playing field, haha. I hope that you all enjoy it! Stay sissy and bitchy everyone <3

Blitz’s day had already been going pretty terrible when he ended up getting into a fight with someone that had been very important to him over a decade ago.

Not only did seeing Fizz bring back memories of when they were in the circus together and everything that they had shared before the fire, but it now also reminded him of how awful the Loo Loo Land Fizzbot had been to him. The taunts and jeers from the back of the already sparse crowd still haunted his dreams and shot down his confidence when he was trying to cheer up his office or kids. Of course that was when the jester thought that it would be a great idea to pick on him and reference the stalkers that he had, which Blitz would never associate himself with.

After the fight, Striker had captured them to prove to Crimson that he was a worthy investment. Blitz had always known that being in his line of work would result in something like that happening to him, he just hadn’t accounted for Fizz being thrown into the same cage as him. At least Striker had finally gotten the sense to cater to who he was capturing instead of assuming that Millie wouldn’t chew her own leg off, beartrap or not, to save her husband.

He had been bound in normal rope, something that he couldn’t hope to wiggle out of because of the friction that it was causing on his skin and suit. Fizz, on the other hand, was bound in what looked to be duct tape so that he couldn’t do anything with his robotic arms and legs.

Even the memory of the fact that Fizz had prosthetics instead of his natural limbs made years and years of guilt come swimming back at him. He wanted to snap and fight back to get the feeling to go away, but he also knew that it would lead to nothing good for either of them. He had been trying so hard and for so long to better himself so that he could be a good example to his girls, but it was a slow going process. Being around the man that had started and ended everything in his life had regressed him back to where he had been fifteen years before.

Fizz started to whine and look around the cage for a way out. “Oh, chill out Jester,” Blitz spoke without meaning to. The words all just tumbled from him and into the open air without his mind even taking a second to process them. It was what had gotten him into the mess that was his life and would likely be what took him out of it as well. “It’s like you’ve never been tied up before.”

“Ugh,” Fizz grunted as he continued to try and pull at his bindings. “Sure, but not by a bunch of psychos.” He fell forward so that he smacked into the hard metal floor of the ground, “Arg! And a piece of shit.”

Blitz narrowed his eyes at the man that was once his best friend as he tried to figure out what he was talking about. “Fi- Okay… okay, am I the psycho or the piece of shit?”

“Both,” Fizz snapped.

“Ah, that checks,” he sighed. He should have known that even when they were in a dangerous situation Fizz wouldn’t be open to listening to him, just as he hadn’t been for years. He had tried so hard after the fire, when they were both trapped in that satanforsaken hospital, and then again through letters for nearly a decade and a half afterwards.

“How is this happening?” Fizz whined as he straightened up again. “I was just supposed to grab some gas station milk and rehearse some juggling!

Anger boiled inside of him. Blitz had been in situations like that more times than he could count and he had never spent as much time whining as Fizz had. They hadn’t even been drugged or interrogated yet, they were just waiting for money to exchange hands. “Oh relax. I’m sure your big royal chicken isn’t going to let anything happen to his peppy little fuck doll.”

“Oh, playing that card, huh?” Fizz snarled. He had just as much anger and vitriol as he had back when they were snarling at each other in Ozzie’s. “Okay, well what about you? Seems your taste has gotten more… regal, lately?”

Again, his brain spoke before his mouth could. “Stolas and I aren’t like that, alright? We might have been able to try out dating if you hadn’t fucking shamed him in front of countless people at what was supposed to be our first date.”

“First date? I knew that you were bad with that whole romance thing but I didn’t consider the fact that you only take a guy out when he’s been railing you into the mattress for months first,” Fizz snarked back. Gone was the boy that looked up to Blitz with all the earnestly of someone that was the golden child of the circus. He no longer had that compassion and tenderness that Blitz had fallen for all those years ago, at least not for the very imp that had protected that in him.

“I don’t think you know what you’re talking about,” Blitz seethed. He had worked so long and so hard to try and make his relationship with Stolas healthier for the sake of their children. He knew that he was bad at picking partners and starting things off, the fact that Verosika still hated him for using her credit card to pay for the twins medical bills when they got the hellflu. Fizz didn’t have the right to mock him for his romantic relationships when he was the one that had damaged Blitz into making bad decisions in the first place, though.

“I think that I do!” responded Fizz. “I was the first guy to earn a date by pounding you into the mattress for months, remember?”

“You know, that’s not really a claim to fame,” Blitz snarled. “Not that you really need anything else to boost your notoriety, right?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

His cheat was heaving with the emotion that was spinning through him like a bullet. He knew that feeling very well, he had gotten shot more times than he cared to admit in his line of work. When it was an emotional bullet instead of a literal one, the pain was so much more intense. A literal bullet would pierce the skin where it had been shot and then destroy the nerve endings in that specific spot, echoing the pain from that location. A metaphorical bullet, on the other hand, tore through the entire body all at once and lit every single nerve on fire. He could feel it twisting and ripping at his heart, making memories from a long time ago arise in his mind the way that an exorcist blade might on a sinner.

Blitz focused on what he was doing instead of saying something. If he kept talking then he was going to say something incredibly stupid. He couldn’t afford to do that when he was surrounded by people that very obviously wanted to use him for their own gain. He wouldn’t be surprised if they had already sent a message back to Stolas letting him know that Blitz had been captured, or if Stolas had been able to feel it the same way that he had with the demon hunters.

With thoughts of his Goetia lover rattling around his mind instead of the memories of what had happened that fateful night of the fire, he was able to focus. He jerked his foot backwards on the rough metal floor of the cage that they were in and removed the knife that he stashed there for moments such as this. He picked the blade up with the edge of his fingers and then turned it around with amazing dexterity, something that he had picked up when he was in the circus, not that it had done him any good. Maybe he could have gotten a job at that cat-themed gambling place if he had just been a bit older when he applied.

He deftly cut through the ropes that were binding his hands and then did the same to the ones on his arms and legs. “What was that supposed to mean, Blitzo?” Fizz demanded again, as if he couldn’t see that Blitz was trying to get them out of that cage so that they never had to face each other again.

He knew that he shouldn’t have said anything, he knew he should have kept his mouth shut and protected the little pocket of joy he had carved for himself with his own claws and teeth, but he couldn’t. “Oh, nothing. I’m just glad that you managed to find someone that you could knock up and not want to abandon this time around,” he replied.

“What in the ever loving fuck is that supposed to mean?” Fizz demanded as he turned around towards Blitz.

They didn’t get the chance to keep fighting about what he had said because Striker was there at the cage, grasping at Fizz and threatening him. Blitz had seen how ruthless he was when he had been preparing to take down Stolas, so it was a surprise to everyone there that he didn’t just perform the kill immediately. Part of him wanted to be grateful to Crimson for reminding the bigot that they were a valuable asset that had to be returned in one piece, and the other half of him was so angry that he could barely see straight.

Blitz felt like an idiot, talking about the pregnancy that he had detected from Fizz’s goading earlier and putting his ex-boyfriend in trouble because of it. He knew what it was to be a child that grew up without a parent and to raise a child without the other half of one’s heart, he would never do that to someone else. He hated Fizz with every fiber of his being for what had happened during the fire and afterwards, but most of his heart was just clinging to that anger so that he didn’t have to feel the alternative. Somewhere deep inside of him, in a place that he had buried and decided to never return to, was the sorrow that tried to choke him out every second that it got.

He could barely think about the guilt that he was feeling over that. If he had any luck left in him then they wouldn’t have to worry about Striker or Crimson in a little while. He supposed that being a Prince of Hell and a Sin meant that Ozzie would be able to hire good security for his lover when he found out what had happened. Stolas didn’t have that luxury since he was one of seventy-two Ars Goetia and often ignored by his family, which was why he had resorted to using Blitz as a bodyguard even though the imp wasn’t very good at that.

He had to get them both out of the warehouse or he would never forgive himself. He knew that he still held resentment for Fizz, but that was only there because of the massive swell of love that existed for his childhood best friend. So he flipped the knife around his front when he had finished cutting the ropes around his arms and sliced it off his legs as well. He worked silently as he got the sharp blade through the duct tape and let Fizz be free as well. He did something convoluted and stupid to get them down from the cage, but it also managed to distract all of the goons around them so that several of them were fighting each other.

While they were working together, Blitz learned several things about his ex-best friend that he never thought he would have been given the chance to. Fizz was incredibly flexible, likely because of the prosthetic arms that he had gotten after the fire at the circus. He was still able to do everything that he had when they were kids despite the fact that they were nearly thirty, which shouldn’t have really been a surprise. Despite the fact that he had bionic limbs and had been famous for over a decade, the bastard knew nothing about fighting.

Blitz had to pull the slack for both of them because while Fizz was able to avoid getting shot pretty well, he couldn’t shoot anyone else to literally save his life. It ended up working out well when Fizz picked Blitz up and used his stretchy arms and flexibility to help the other imp get some of the harder shots, which resulted in them finding the window that eventually got them out.

After another explosion and some acrobatics that he hadn’t done for years, he managed to get them to a point where they were both safe for the time being. He let out a low breath and nearly collapsed as the adrenaline began to melt from his body. “I know that you hate me, but can I borrow a phone from you so that I can call my girls?”

“I want to talk to you about that before I let you go,” Fizz shook his head. The world around them stank like burning rubber and melting metal from the fire that they had started on the junkyard, but it felt oddly poetic in some way. Their entire relationship had gone up like a trash fire so they might as well talk about it while surrounded by one.

He had always known that it was a possibility that he and Fizz would have this conversation one day. He had known the second that the doctor came in with the confirmation that the pregnancy had lasted through the fire, he had known the second that the test had come back positive, he had known the second that they had decided one time without a condom would probably be fine. “What did you want to talk to me about?” he finally managed to make his voice say.

“What did you mean when you said that I got someone pregnant and then abandoned them? This is my first time having a kid, Oz and I were really excited when we found out,” Fizz said quietly. He looked so forlorn and scared when he did it, that it actually made Blitz’s heart ache in his chest.

He turned his head to the side and tried to blink away the tears that had gathered there as he explained. “You know how we were dating back when we were sixteen and we thought that one or two times without a condom would be okay? Well, I got knocked up. When I tried to tell you I got sidelined or told to fuck off every time. I thought for sure you knew.”

“Why would you think that?” Fizz asked, holding his hands out to the side of him like Blitz had told him that he thought the living world’s moon was made out of cheese. He knew that his ex-best friend would react to that situation in that specific way because it had happened when they were thirteen, the first time that they had gotten drunk together.

“Because I tried to tell you a dozen times! I mean, the first time really didn’t work because I passed out at your party and then when I woke up everything was on fire,” he sighed.

Fizz tightened up when he heard that. “You passed out? While pregnant? Were you okay?” he asked.

“I mean, I’m okay now. At the time I was actually really anemic, having them almost killed me,” he shrugged. “But I did try to tell you about the twins, Fizz. I wrote you letters after the security gave me a bruise on my ass because of how hard they tossed me out of the hospital.”

“No one ever told me that you came to visit while I was in the hospital,” the other imp whispered. He had tilted his head down for the first time since the explosion, staring at the green flames still licking at the trash below them. It was beginning to peter out already as it had consumed everything that wasn’t just melting. He pulled his legs up to his chest and wrapped his one usable arm around them, his tail completing the circle. “I wanted you to visit me so badly. I was so scared and I didn’t understand why you ran away from me after you had seen me.”

“I didn’t really see you,” Blitz shrugged. He tilted his head forward and dug his fingers into his eye socket. He was able to see the absolutely disgusted face that Fizz gave him before he marveled at the glass eye. It had enough tech in it that it could help widen Blitz’s peripheral vision and give him his depth perception back, but it didn’t have anything high-tech. If he had wanted that then he would have had to go with VoxTech because Asmodean prosthetics tried to focus on actually being usable. “See? My eyes were totally fucked for like a week after the fire, I had to make the nurses give me an extra ultrasound so I had a chance to see my own babies since I couldn’t when they checked the first time.”

The other imp was quiet for a while longer, Blitz knew why. He had put together towards the beginning of their conversation that Cash and Mammon had worked to keep the two of them apart, especially since Cash was the one that had originally told Blitz that the fire was his fault and that Fizz didn’t want to see him. Both the older imp and the sin had to know about the twins and had kept Fizz from that knowledge on purpose.

“So you were pregnant and tried to tell me, but they didn’t let you because they wanted to keep exploiting me,” Fizz finally said the silent part out loud. Blitz had known that Mammon was abusing his best friend since he had attending the first show he had to work in Loo Loo Land. The robots were made poorly because of the demand for them, which meant that they only resembled his friend to some extent. He knew that none of that money was making it back to Fizz, at least to some extent, because otherwise he wouldn’t have kept working for the bastard as long as he had.

“Yeah, pretty much. I’ve been raising both girls on my own for a long time, there’s a lot of shit I wished you had seen and even more that I’m so glad you didn’t,” Blitz said. His pregnancy had been a fucking disaster, what with him being out on his own and absolutely covered in slowly healing burns for the entirety of it.

“What do you mean by that?” Fizz asked. It seemed like that was what he was asking most often, likely because Blitz was telling him something convoluted and overwhelming. He only had to ask for clarification when Blitz could actually get the words he needed to say forced out of his mouth.

“Well, it wasn’t pretty after I had the girls. I was mostly working odd jobs that were part time so that I could be home with them for the majority of the day. I even had to take up doing maintenance of my building so that my landlord would drop the rent to something that I could actually afford. Stole a lot too, usually baby clothes and formula because your kids sure know how to eat, Fizz. I guess that’s the one thing that I’m actually grateful that Cash taught me how to do,” Blitz rambled on.

While they talked, he shimmied towards the main part of the crane that would let them travel downwards. Fizz followed after him, coming down to the ashy ground as well despite the injury that he had on his arm. It felt almost like the fire had never happened and they had never been separated for those long fifteen years. He wondered what they would have been if they had that time instead of what they had received instead. They might have turned into what Blitz’s parents had been like, in love once upon a time but miserable and together only for their children. Perhaps it was for the best that they had been separated, so they could both grow as people and become better for their children.

They reached the bottom of the crane without either of them falling and then embarked further on their journey as they tried to get out of the junkyard. The fire had thankfully turned into nothing but warmth and foul smoke by the time that they actually descended and hadn’t caught the entire place on fire.

Thankfully, Blitz was used to his van giving out and stranding him wherever the most recent part had chosen to break. He was used to having to walk through cramped, foreign city streets until a payphone was found. He slipped into it and rigged the machine by hitting it in just the right places so that the coins inside jingled but didn’t fall, which was something that could only be done in greed. He rested his head against the grimy box as he listened to it ring a couple times before someone finally picked up.

“Blitz? Are you alright? Oh please tell me that this is actually you and not another one of those kidnappers trying to taunt me,” Stolas rambled. Blitz should have known that he was going to be an absolute mess when they were able to talk to each other again, but it still warmed his heart and the lower half of his belly to know that he had someone who cared that much about him. The part of his brain that carried Stolas’ voice with him like a protection ward told him that the only reason his lover hadn’t come to break him out the same way that he had when Blitz had gotten caught in the living world was because the politics in Hell were more complicated.

“I’m alright, Stolas. Did you really think I wouldn’t be able to get us out of there? I hope that you didn’t pay those fuckers any of your money,” Blitz said.

“I was preparing to, darling, if I’m being totally honest,” Stolas replied. He sounded a little sheepish when he spoke and Blitz could almost see the blush covering the lower half of his face. In the background, the imp could make out someone else talking but couldn’t quite discern what the words were. He just knew that the tone was familiar.

“Stolas! What they were asking for was totally fucking ridiculous and you know that Striker still has a shit ton of money from when Stella tried to have you killed,” Blitz scoffed. The memory of how injured his boyfriend had been after that incident still made his entire body feel as though he had been doused in ice water. He hadn’t been able to go to the hospital because of the trauma that he had from his first pregnancy and post-fire, which meant that he had to deal with a lot of things completely on his own on top of battling the guilt at not being there to defend his partner. He couldn't wait until their case got through the courts of Hell and they were able to put the bitch in her place by taking Via from her and giving her nothing in return during the divorce.

Stolas chittered in that way that he did when he was blushing and preparing to say something mushy, “There’s no price in the Nine Rings that’s too high when it comes to making sure that you’re safe, my dear. Both of you.”

Blitz’s hand moved down to the bottom part of his stomach, which was already beginning to swell with whatever baby had been implanted in him some months ago. He and Stolas hadn’t even been aware that it was possible for a member of the Ars Goetia and an imp to reproduce, so they hadn’t been as careful as they could have been. That was, of course, what had gotten him into trouble with his twins back when he was nineteen with the very imp that was standing outside the phonebooth. He couldn’t bring himself to regret it either time, though. The only thing that he did regret was being the first to do it because the absence of knowledge about how that worked made them both worried. They had no idea if Blitz could handle delivering an egg, like what Octavia was born in, or if he would go into labor and deliver live babies the same way that he had with his twins. There were a lot of questions and very few answers to be found, which had to be half of the reason that Stolas was so worried about the kidnapping.

He couldn’t help the smile that crossed over his face as he said, “I’m okay, Stolas. You know that I can handle this kind of thing.”

“But we don’t, Blitzy,” Stolas replied. “You could have been very hurt if your balance was off when you were trying to do one of your action hero moves. Let me know where you are and I can portal you right home.”

“Are you with Ozzie right now?” Blitz asked. It was awkward to have to refer to the man that his ex-partner was now embroiled with, but it was important. Stolas had said that he was going to request an Asmodean crystal for Blitz so that they could make their relationship official. If it was known that a Goetia was allowing his lover to use such a powerful magical artifact without permission from Paimon, the leader of the Ars Goetia, then they could both get in serious trouble. Blitz refused to give up his work even if he was just manning the office with his eldest daughter until the baby came, in whatever form that was.

“I am, in fact,” the other replied. “Why?”

Blitz went quiet for a while. He let out a low breath to try and settle the nausea in the back of his throat. He was glad for the pregnancy, for once, because it allowed him to blame that feeling on the fact that he was growing another being instead of it being about the idea of telling Fizz. That was stupid anyway, since he had already told the other imp and the reaction that he had feared didn’t come to pass in the way that he had feared it.

He straightened up in the phone booth and then waved at Fizz to make sure that the other was okay. “I want you to bring me and someone else to their palace. I, um, I finally told the twins father that they existed and I think that we should discuss when they’re going to meet for the first time.”

“Do you think that he’s going to try and fight for custody?” Stolas immediately asked.

“I don’t think so. And you know my feelings about how custody should work,” Blitz replied. Via had been very worried about what would happen to her when her parents finally settled in the courts. She didn’t want to have to go stay with her mother every other week, not when the woman had soured so completely since Stolas had cheated on her. Apparently her bad attitude had now transferred to being directed at her daughter instead of being reserved only for her ex-husband. They had managed to work in a clause that Via would get to choose where she wanted to go and who she wanted to be with. She wouldn’t get carted around based on the whims of her parents or a court system, she would have autonomy for who she got to be with.

Stolas agreed after a bit more poking and prodding, then got the coordinates that he needed from Blitz. The portal opened and they were permitted to step through onto the plush carpets of Ozzie’s mansion. It was decorated the same way that everything else in Lust was, with massive windows that let in the hazy pink light and blues thrown just about everywhere.

As soon as they were safely through the swirling bit of magic, Fizz launched himself off the ground and into his boyfriend’s arms. Blitz could barely even think about being jealous or envious of what they had because his own boyfriend was smothering him with affection. He knew that things were going to be okay, even if they would be weird and out of the ordinary. He hadn’t been loved the way he wanted during his first pregnancy, but he was getting it now. And Fizz would get to know what it was like to watch his children grown in the belly of the man he loved, even if that had to be with his third child and Ozzie instead of his eldest girls and Blitz.

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writersdare · 1 year

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Hold Me Tight | Luke Hemmings

Pairing: Luke Hemmings x Reader (she/her)

Summary: Luke has been plagued by nightmares, but Y/N was always there for him.

Warning: hurt/comfort, nightmares

Word Count: 1 097

Author’s Note: Having trouble sleeping for months in the recent past, I decided to let it go in a little story. Hopefully you’ll like this one. Requests are open ♡

There was some magic in traveling by bus, even though it could be rather tiring, too. Y/N never really joined the band on tour before, as she had a job in LA, and the girl just couldn’t put her work aside and have carefree time with the guys. Yet, the things have changed after the marriage, both Luke and Y/N realized they didn’t want to be away from each other for that long again, the distance was killing, and they needed to find a compromise. Lu, obviously, couldn’t just stay in the US and perform from home (2020 would still give everyone chills), but Y/N finally got an opportunity to work remote, and it gave her a chance to change the open plan office to something she preferred more. She’d still have zoom calls time to time and her working schedule could be a mess, but it was much better, as she could be next to her husband. Luke was really happy, and during the tour he’d always make sure how his girl was and if she had enough rest before taking on another project she was given.

The first week of touring was chaotic, it was almost always loud in the bus, so Y/N definitely had to get used to her new style of life. It got easier as the weeks went by. She’d work in the mornings and during the guys’ rehearsals, sometimes she’d have to work during their performances, too, but most of the time by the end of the days she was free and could enjoy the concerts. Funny, but even though the shows would get repetitive, Y/N would enjoy each time, as if it was always new experience. It was to some extent, each show was still different, a lot depended on a crowd and the energy it was giving.

Usually, the guys couldn’t sleep for hours after performing live, the adrenalin would still rush in their veins, but with time tiredness would take over, and everyone would fall asleep as soon as they went to bunk beds. It was trickier if the band was in a completely different time zone and experienced jet lag, but luckily, they’ve already passed that stage.

For some reason, though, it didn’t stop Luke from having troubles sleeping past few days. He’d fall asleep right after his head would touch a pillow, yet, three days in a row he was waking up in the middle of the night from nightmares. They were bizarre and didn’t make any sense, but in the morning the guy would feel tired and sleepy. Sometimes he’d dream about something more real, like losing his voice or getting lost in the woods, and an unpleasant feeling wouldn’t leave him during the whole day until he’d play a show.

Around 2 a.m. Y/N woke up, hearing Luke suffering from a bad dream once again. He was shaking his head harshly from side to side, mumbling and whining something. It was scaring Y/N, as if she could feel the fear Luke was experiencing at that moment. Focusing on the guy’s face and adjusting to the darkness, the girl hurried up to leave her bunk and kneel beside him. The bunks were too small to fit them both, which was a shame, they missed sleeping in the same bed, but at least their bottom bunks were next to each other.

“Hey, baby, wake up,” Y/N whispered, gently shaking the guy’s shoulder, trying to save him from the nightmare. “Luke, it’s just a dream, it’s alright, wake up, baby.”

As he opened the eyes, the musician started to breath harshly, as if there was not enough air in the lungs all of a sudden.

“Shh, that’s okay. That’s okay, it’s me. It was just a dream.”

Luke had to make an effort to get his normal breath back and realize it was just a dream, indeed. Focusing the eyes on a ceiling, the guy reached Y/N’s hand on his shoulder and sighed heavily. He squeezed her palm, remembering the horrors he saw just a minute ago, and left a short kiss on her fingers.

“Another one?” she simply asked and carefully lied next to Luke, as much as it was possible.

He only nodded at the question and rested a head on her shoulder.

“I feel like I’m going crazy,” Luke whispered, thinking that before going to bed he was getting scared already in advance.

“You are not,” Y/N whispered back. “You just exhausted yourself with work and brain seeks for a rest.”

“In nightmares?” he chuckled, not being convinced. “None of the guys are having it, just me. I mean, thanks god,” Luke shook his head. “But it’s not just me who is working hard.”

“Stop comparing yourself to others, huh?” Y/N gently hugged her husband and left a short kiss on a forehead. “It’ll be alright. Just a week left, and you’ll be back home,” the girl stroked his hair and started to leave short kisses on his face. It was calming him down little by little.

“Stay here, okay?” Luke asked.

“Of course,” Y/N smiled and pulled him closer to herself.

When Y/N had a bad dream, Luke used to hold her tight and sing a little lullaby about a knight who was guarding her while she was asleep. That night, though, Y/N was Luke’s knight.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, realizing she was awake because of him.

“Don’t be silly, it’s alright,” she hurried up to reassure, enjoying that little intimacy between them. It was very simple and pure, and the girl liked that. Even though she’d, of course, prefer the situation to be different. Y/N hopped the nightmares would stop bothering him soon, though, he wasn’t alright...

“Try to get some sleep, okay? I’ll be here, next to you, and won’t fall asleep before you,” Y/N promised, stroking his hair once again.

Luke could feel slightly awkward and maybe even embarrassed to show his fear and weakness, but his girl always knew how to fix that. How exactly to tell or show it was normal to experience such emotions.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he whispered back and buried the face in her neck, sensing a peach shower gel and a bit of perfume he got her last month.

The girl left a short kiss on the top of his head and closed the eyes, hoping her boy would finally have a proper sleep and rest. She’d be very quiet, listening to his even breathing, and as the girl realized he was sleeping calmly, Y/N fell asleep, too, holding Luke in her arms tight.

– gifs aren’t mine and belong to the rightful owner – saw them here @kaleidoscopeminds and here @bettermcn–

All stories are original and written by me. Do not copy, trace and post anywhere without permission and credit. The stories are fictional, they do not correspond to reality and written just for fun ♡

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nine-of-words · 10 days

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Something Borrowed (Part Eleven)

M Gargoyle x M Reader

PREVIOUS || STORY TAG

Wordcount: 7437

Content Warnings: Discussion of a Breakup, Brief Mention of Fantasy Catholicism

I’m not dead and here is another chapter! However this part ran way too long in the original plan, so I’ve decided to break it in two. It is somehow still more than 7k, so, whoops. Fittingly, we’re going with a baker’s dozen for this story rather than a dozen.

The anticipation is killing you.

You are in the back of a rented van, babysitting two comically large, magically chilled boxes full of partially constructed wedding cake. Your eyes are eagle sharp as you monitor it on the way to the venue.

It's something you've done hundreds, if not thousands of times before at this point, but it still makes you feel slightly queasy, watching the result of your hard work wobble and sway in its supported box with every little bump in the road.

But this time, you're an extra bit queasy for a different reason, as you hold your device out in front of you.

If you're going to call somebody, you need to have called them… at least twenty minutes ago, now.

Between working double time late into the night to remake this cake, and getting it ready for delivery today, you haven’t had time to make the call at a reasonable hour.

Until now.

…Or so you tell yourself.

You definitely waited until the last possible minute, at least partially out of fear.

You look down at the screen, the pixels composing the letters of Carlyle’s name starting to lose their meaning from staring at them for so long.

You suppose the second best time to call is now.

You finally swallow down the dread and start to mentally count down from ten.

Ten, Nine, Eight-

Ugh, what are you even doing? You’re just going to make a fool of yourself!

Seven, Six, Five…

What if he doesn’t pick up? What then? It’s the middle of the day on a work day! He's a lawyer, he's probably on a courtroom right now-

Four… Three… Two…

And what if he does pick up? You should’ve rehearsed what you were going to say better-

One.

You force yourself to hit the button before you can hesitate again. The sound of ringing on the other end is like a series of white hot pokers in your chest. Your eyes are screwed closed in anticipation.

It rings once.

You consider wrenching open the sliding door of the van and tossing your voci out onto the highway speeding by.

It rings twice…

“Hello?”

Even with just the single word, he sounds absolutely incredulous. You can clearly imagine the way his eyebrows arch up when he hears something particularly egregious.

“... Hi,” You finally manage to force the word out on a forceful exhale, but then immediately stall, the ghost of your next sentence leaving you in a near-silent rattle.

“...Hello. Are you… okay?”

“Yes- Well, no. Maybe?” You laugh nervously. “It really depends on what your answer to my next question is…”

“Hah, well- I’m listening, whenever you're ready.”

You take a deep breath of air, fist nervously clenching your apron hem, then swallow it down with your remaining pride.

“I know this is last minute and I know I don’t really have the footing to ask you a favor right now, but… I really need you,” You say, mouth already dry and your voice beginning to shake, the words harder to excavate the more you scrape out. “Do you think that you could… would you be my date to this wedding?”

“Of course. I’ll be there.” Carlyle’s response is more nonchalant and so much lighter in tone than you expected; relieved, even. You hear fabric rustling and what sounds like the subtle grinding of stone on the other end. “Send me the address. And the dress code- I'm assuming there is one.”

“R-Really?” You say in disbelief; you expected rejection, or at least much more pushback. You expected to have to beg for forgiveness. “Just like that?”

“Yes?” He lets out a soft, barely audible laugh. “Were you expecting me to turn you down?”

He has a point. What were you expecting, exactly? Bitter resentment? But no, of course he’s behaving in a kind and supportive manner- He’s never given you a reason to think he’d act any differently. You’ve never been happier to be wrong.

“I… suppose I was. I wouldn’t have blamed you.”

“Just so we're on the same page here,” The rustling of movement on Carlyle’s end of the line continues. “I’m going as your date, but is this a date? I'll still join you in a platonic capacity, of course, so there's no pressure, but I would like things to be transparent from the start.”

“A date!” You blurt out, but quickly clarify; “A, uh, not platonic one. A romantic one, I mean. I-If that's what you want.”

“You don't know how happy I am to hear you say that.”

“Sorry- I think I might know. Just a tick-” You’re overjoyed and devastated at the same time, struggling to blink back the sting of tears at the corners of your eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. Really. You don’t have to apologize.”

You try to convince yourself to get off the line, but it’s just so good to hear his voice again, you’re desperate to wring as much of it as you can out of this short interaction- to save it up in case things go south again. But you’ll need to unload this cake soon, and understandably, Carlyle can't stay on the call for much longer either, given the sudden need to pack and commute. So, after giving him the information he needs, you’re forced to cut it short.

You finally say goodbye and end the call, left sitting in the back of the van with the cake, the anxiety weighing on you laced with a bit of pleasant anticipation, now.

One look at the place when you get out of the back of the van, and you’re already intimidated. They certainly didn’t spare any cost, from the look of it. You push the feeling down and remind yourself you have a reason to be here- you’re here for work primarily, no matter what the self-critical voice in the back of your mind is trying to tell you.

The building is an old Elven palace nestled in sprawling gardens, situated on the northern edge of the city and repurposed into an event venue. The exterior is all tall, windy spires and iridescent panes of stained glass, with sprawling plant life tracing cracks where they’ve found purchase. Even from here, you can see that a massive tree growing from the same craggy base of the hill the palace is perched on has started to grow into a hole in the building’s stone facade who knows how long ago- now kept artfully pruned now as a feature, rather than a signal of disrepair, you have to assume.

You walk into the reception venue’s service door from the parking area, somehow even more intimidated by the inside. Fittingly, it’s the palace’s ballroom. Branches of the tree have slowly crept their way in here over the years, twisting through the stone and dotting the cracks with the occasional vine or flower. Long hanging pennants of silky cloth hang down between marble columns and the same rosy stained glass panels from the outside, the backdrop to meticulously set dining tables with live floral centerpieces, evoking what it likely looked like in the past. The high ceiling has some sort of eerie gloss to it, with multiple finely dressed banquet workers in the room seemingly running tests as the lights flicker and twinkle a different color occasionally- you can only imagine what this room will look like with the lighting fully set later.

In your line of work, you’ve seen a lot of wedding ceremonies, or at least the set up preceding them. Elven weddings tend to be showy and overdone, ostentatious in their presentation, and this one is no exception. Everything about the venue you’ve seen so far screams “I paid a lot of gold for this”, which given Trevor’s parents likely foot the bill for it, you’re unsurprised.

As usual when you arrive, your first order of business is to locate the wedding planner, to confirm where to put the end product of your hours of effort. This time, it's a stern looking elven woman in a flowy black and gold jumpsuit and sporting a tight bun atop her head- someone you instantly recognize and find yourself hit with a wave of dread, realizing you have to have this conversation, of all things, right now.

“Ooh, hello!” She says your name, but all you hear is being called up to the gallows. “What a nice surprise it is to see you here!”

This is the wedding planner you were talking to when you had begun to plan your own wedding, when you and Trevor were still engaged. You feel a little bad that you don’t remember her name- you could probably find her card somewhere in your files from the times you’d worked on the same wedding before you hired her, but so much of that time period is such a blur to you now. It feels like a whole different lifetime.

“Hi,” you say awkwardly, fingernails already digging into the strap of your bag of supplies. You force yourself to unclench your fingers. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“It has! We haven’t worked on the same event for more than… well, more than a year now, wouldn’t it be?” Her nails tap the datapad in her hands as she types away.

You can hear the question she’s being too polite to ask: It was when we were planning this wedding when it was going to be yours, wasn’t it?

“I changed location, so that might be why.” You offer an explanation.

“When Ms. Devinthal said she had a backup in mind when the groom’s first choice bakery fell through, I had no idea it was going to be you! I didn’t recognize the business name at all!”

Backup? First choice…? What’s that supposed to mean?

“Yeah, well, I changed my shop’s name too, so I imagine there just hasn’t been a lot of overlap in customers lately, hahah.”

“True…” She lowers her data pad and purses her lips, barely bothering to conceal her pity. It seems she’s able to piece together the reason as to why pretty easily. “If I can be purely honest with you? I thought you’d have quit the business. Spirits know I wouldn’t be able to keep working in this business after… well, all of that heartbreak transpired. I hope things have improved for you in that regard, dear.”

You can feel your eyes glaze over a bit as you vividly recall the day you had called this woman in barely-withheld tears to cancel her service; how you barely were able to explain through your weak voice, hoarse from crying, that there wasn’t going to be a wedding to plan anymore.

“Oh, they have.” You say, trying to keep your teeth from gritting, with a drawn on customer-service smile.

“Ohoh! Well, I should let you get to work! That cake isn’t going to stack itself, is it? However, if things keep going well, you’ll have to keep me in mind when you hear wedding bells ringing again, hmm? They say the second time's the charm!”

“Of course I will!” You lie through your teeth. “Thanks.”

Mercifully, you have your job to turn your attention to.

As soon as she’s out of earshot, you let out a long, withering breath, and resteel yourself. You’re not going to have a breakdown. It’s too early in all of this.

One by one, you bring the chilled boxes into the reception venue, fingers locked tightly, but not tight enough to damage the cake inside. You’ve never dropped a cake at the venue- yet- but given your luck lately, you’re not taking any chances.

Once all the necessary pieces are inside, you begin the work of extracting the cake tiers from their boxes and moving them to the obnoxiously broad cake stand. The cake will be set on a small table all on its own, pride of place of the banquet area of the ballroom.

Every tier you place as if you’re disarming a bomb; your life and the life of everyone in the building depends on it being undamaged. Dowel rods and cardboard circles are strategically placed as needed for structural integrity, each tier of cake perfectly centered in the middle of the one below.

Finally, you gingerly slide the last, petite tier on top of the whole thing.

…It’s secure. That’s most of the battle won. You let out the breath you were holding. Putting on the final aesthetic touches won’t be nearly as mortally terrifying as the potential of the cake crashing onto the floor into a heap of sweet mush due to an accidental slip of the hand.

You begin the process of touching up the sides and the seams of the tiers, dolloping buttercream from your container to hide any cracks like you're spackling a wall. Time both flies by and is somehow agonizing in how long it drags on. All the way through laying down the final buttercream decorations, up until you've meticulously placed the last sugary rose you spent so much time sculpting, there's only one thing on your mind, and it’s not the cake.

All that’s left is to seek out the wedding planner once again for final approval. To your relief, she's thrilled with your work and gives you the go ahead to clean up as she uses the datapad in her hand to send the rest of your payment to your account. It's always easier when there's no new demands or fabricated issues brought up at the very end. The tightly wound muscles in your upper back ease, just a little bit.

And with that- it's done, finished, out of your hands. The cake is delivered safely, and you feel lighter already knowing it's not your problem anymore.

… As long as it makes it through the night without exploding, that is.

You swallow dryly at the thought. Kirby enthusiastically assured you that there was basically no chance of it happening again so soon- that it happening to the first version of this cake was a blessing in disguise, since that explosion took place in your shop and not the venue, and there wouldn't be enough time for negative energy to accumulate again by now. You can't help but still feel the twinge of apprehension, despite you trusting their judgement.

The last of your supplies get neatly packed away just in time, as you're starting to see more elves dressed in their best formal wear filtering through by the passing minute.

Casting one last lingering look at the cake, you leave the grandiose ballroom for your hotel room to get ready. By nature of attending a wedding you've also delivered the cake to, the time you have to prepare is somewhat more scant than you’d like, so you’ve got to get moving.

After a walk down a particularly gilded hallway, you enter the frankly ostentatious lobby of the hotel portion of the palace. The high vaulted, ribboned ceilings are almost dizzying, and all of the small details on the architecture being gilded or inlaid with some other precious material is making it hard to look at anything for too long.

A bellhop takes your bags, leaving you less to fiddle with in your anxiety. So instead, you compulsively check your voci every few moments while you wait for the front desk agent to do her thing. Hopefully, she doesn’t notice how sweaty your hands are with nerves when you take the set of keycards from her. You want to get up there and get ready as soon as possible. You don’t want to hog the bathroom if Carlyle still needs to finish getting ready, too…

Since the guest rooms themselves are in the various high towers of the palace, the elevator ride takes what feels like forever. You’re left to look at your many reflections, scrutinizing the imperfections of your face amplified in the glass and regretting most of your life decisions up to this point.

When you finally get there, the hotel room itself is even a bit intimidating in how expensive and ornate it looks. You’re aware you likely got one of the most standard of rooms, as a low priority guest. You don’t even want to think about what the bigger suites must look like… And certainly not the bridal suite, which the front desk agent was happy to chirp about being at the very top of the highest spire.

Despite being what’s considered a standard room, it’s still more lavish than anything you’d ever buy yourself for the night by far, all gilded and crystal surfaces and the finest fabrics.

Of the most note is an incredibly tall window pane that reaches from the floor all the way up to the ceiling- at least double and a half of your height. The view overlooks the swathe of greenery and pastel color of blooming flowers below, and then eventual transition to the blocks of Windrise City proper in the far distance, past the gardens.

You may be in a time crunch, but the view from the window is so entrancing you find yourself opening the light curtains a little wider and staring out in awe for just a few moments. If you had time, you’d probably be out on the balcony right now.

Your delivered bags sit on the golden luggage stand in one corner, looking very out of place in their mundanity.

Hastily, you pick out the one suit you own from the top of your luggage, where it’s neatly folded on the hanger. You shake it out a bit before hanging it on the bar in the hallway closet.

Carlyle hasn’t shown up yet, which is both a relief and terrifying. What if he got stuck in gridlock traffic and he can’t get here in time? You’ll be here on your own anyway, after all of that. Somehow it’d make the whole situation even more embarrassing, seeing familiar faces while you stew in shame, left to endure pitying looks that cover up deep disdain for your presence…

But.. no. He’d definitely call back if he was running late.

You peel yourself out of your slightly sugar-crusted apron and hop into a hurried shower, starting the rush through your grooming routine.

Once you’ve bathed, you immediately move on to shaving; going through the motion of working a lather of soap onto your face. Thanks to your mother being an elf, you don’t have to shave that often, but she is a snow elf, so the stubble will still get out of hand if you let it.

The preening gives you a sense of comfort- a calmness that you’ve been sorely lacking lately.

You can at least handle this. You are fully capable of looking presentable. It’s part of your job.

While the momentary refuge from your dread is a comfortable diversion, reality quickly sets back in when you hear a knock at the door.

You look up and freeze, the razor still in your hand hanging inert by your jaw.

A bolt of terror courses through you, despite bubbling with joy. You want to see him, if the urge to run to the door and immediately throw it open means anything. But it’s going to be so awkward… What do you even say now?

Maybe it’s just room service, even though you didn’t order it. A maid with extra pillows, even though you didn’t ask for them? A maintenance worker coming to fix something, even though you didn’t report an issue?

You realize you’ve been standing here frozen for far too long, and scramble to get some semblance of covered, throwing open the closet and yanking one of the robes off the attached anti-theft hangers, then hurriedly putting your arms through the sleeves and tying a sloppy knot around your waist.

Finally at the door, nearly working up a sweat in your haste, your hands fumble with the chain lock and the door handle, but manage to open the door.

Carlyle is on the other side, of course, and not the random hospitality worker you were conjuring in your head. He has an overnight bag slung over one shoulder, and a smaller one held at his side in his opposite hand.

He looks as handsome as ever, clearly freshly groomed and put together himself; freshly pressed suit, dreadlocks neatly tied in a loose gather, and the warm, spiced scent of his cologne’s heart note.

You imagine Carlyle must own more than a few suits, given his job and the fact you’ve rarely seen him in anything less formal, but if this isn’t his best suit, it’s probably close to it. The fabric of the lapels is a silky, resplendent black, shimmering just enough when the light hits it that it’s nearly impossible to resist the desire to run your fingers along them. The rosy blush paisley pattern on his chosen tie is strikingly familiar…

His free hand is hovering halfway between his tie and the door, like he’s contemplating knocking again after fussing with his focus in anticipation. He lowers it to straighten his tie, and his face breaks into a smitten, amused smile at the sight of you.

“Good afternoon.” The way the corners of his eyes tighten and his voice has the slightest hint of wavering, you can tell he’s barely holding back laughter. “I’m truly flattered that you wanted to answer the door so quickly, but you didn’t have to rush.”

“H-Huh?”

He gestures to his face like he’s stroking a nonexistent beard. You move your own to mirror the movement, immediately regretting your choice when the fingertips find the shaving lather you still have on half of your face.

The accumulated tension is blown to smithereens.

You can feel your face heating up in embarrassment, running to answer the door like this.

A momentary silence falls between you- with you too dazed to access your proper manners, and Carlyle too patient to suggest you move out of the doorway and let him through.

Both on one side of a threshold, but neither being quick to trespass.

It’s a foreign feeling, knowing how close you’ve gotten, yet having this invisible, manufactured barrier still standing between you.

That evening in the shop when he came by late and you were in much the same circumstances comes to mind. There’s no extinguished neon shop sign barring the way now, though, just your own awkward behavior.

“Um. Well,” You cringe at yourself, trying to relax your wooden posture. “Come in?”

As soon as Carlyle has slid past you and inside the room, you scoop up your main layers of clothes that you had laying out within reach.

“Right, um. I’ll just. Be out in a minute-” You manage to blurt out before unceremoniously locking yourself in the bathroom, only catching half of his affirmative words before the door shuts.

Finishing shaving and getting dressed doesn’t take nearly as long as you’d hope- not nearly enough to think up something meaningful to say to him. You find yourself gripping the edges of the sink, staring yourself down in the mirror, desperately trying to plan your approach.

What is even appropriate here? Should you thank him for coming? Should you apologize again?

Anything is better than this. You can’t hide in the bathroom forever torturing yourself.

Right?

You close your eyes to splash your face with a bit of water, and take a long, drawn out, deep breath. Then you steel yourself and meekly emerge from your hiding spot.

You stall in front of the hallway closet, eyes turned away, and pick up your tie from the neck of the nearby hanger with your blazer on it.

But before you can make much progress with your tie, you’re hit with a pleasantly familiar, slightly sweet, slightly malty smell that calls you out into the room proper, despite your best attempts to keep hiding from your date.

You glance around for the source, quickly finding that there’s a neutral white mug sitting on the grotesquely ornate lacquer tray next to the brewing machine.

“Tea?” You identify, forgetting your task and taking the still-warm mug into your hands.

“I made you a cup. I thought you might need it.”

Carlyle’s taken a seat in the embroidered club chair in the corner of the room. Even in a place like this, he manages to somehow not look out of place. He peers out at you, one leg folded over the other. His spaded tail lazily whips the empty space below him.

“Ah. T-Thanks.” You say, trying not to let your voice crack, before taking a long sip.

Queen’s Breakfast Blend. He even put cream and sugar in it- a bit under what you would’ve, but that’s only to be expected from him. You’re sure to him, this was just as excessive as you’d like. It’s nothing like the authentic blend Devin brings you, but you’re touched that he remembered your preference.

“Can’t help but see the coffee’s untouched.” You sniff dryly and look into the beige, opaque liquid in your cup, extending a cursory bit of teasing. Testing the waters.

“Hah! Well. A man has to have some standards.” Carlyle quips in turn, clawtips drumming the fabric of the armrest.

Another long sip. You investigate the prepackaged coffees.

“...It’s the same store brand that I buy, though.” You snort. “You've been drinking it for months. Every time you turned up at the shop…”

“It’s different when you make it.” He shrugs with a knowing smile; a bolt through your chest. You can only huff out a laugh in response to prevent yourself from getting too flustered.

The mug clinks against the tray as you set it back down to focus on the fabric still hanging limp around your neck, waiting to be arranged.

You can feel Carlyle’s eyes on you as you fumble your attempts to tie it, but he’s not saying anything. Yet.

You try again. You fail again.

Your hands are trembling the smallest bit, but it’s making it hard to complete the fine movements. You don’t know if it’s your nerves about the event in general, or maybe the fact that you know if you look up, you’ll catch Carlyle’s warm, dark brown eyes shamelessly fixated on your movements.

“B-Blast it-” You hiss under your breath as you fail to form the knot once more, but clearly not as quietly as you think, and you seem to have fully spurred your date to action.

“Here. You look like you could use some assistance.” Carlyle laughs a sift laugh as he gets to his feet and clears the short distance between you. Though, he does hesitate a moment before touching you, despite his hands already raising to do so; “If you’d like it.”

“Please.” Your voice comes out an exasperated groan, weakly throwing up your hands in defeat.

He moves in closer now that he has expressed permission, untwisting the mess of a tie and laying it flat against your flipped up collar. The room is so silent, you can hear the faint sound of the cotton brushing against this stoneskin.

“I know how to tie a tie,” You insist in your own defense, fighting no one but yourself- not angry, but more so particularly exasperated. Of course you’re failing this task while someone’s watching you do it. “I just. Don’t do it as often as you do, probably…”

“I’m sure you’re perfectly capable.” Carlyle says in a reassuring tone while his hands deftly maneuver with the finesse of someone who has absolutely done this way, way more often than you have. “Though, I’m not complaining about getting to do it myself.”

His movements are delicate but still firm, just like you remember.

His stone fingers brush the sides of your neck in the process. You simultaneously fight the urge to melt into his touch while your heart hammers in your chest so hard that you’re starting to feel it in your throat.

…You’re fairly sure he’s dragging this out on purpose, but you, similarly, are not complaining- you’re too busy savoring the feeling.

“Is this okay?” He speaks barely above a whisper, and secures the tie at the base of your throat with a gentle tug. He’s asking about the tightness of the knot, surely, but with the way his hands linger, it’s also serving the purpose of re-confirming where your boundaries for physical closeness are, in your still undefined standing.

Your anxiety on the matter can't stand up to how badly you want him.

Your hand rises to gently touch the side of his jaw, but you hesitate, still unsure of yourself despite the clear look of invitation in Carlyle’s eyes.

Then, there’s a slight pressure on your neck from your tie, still in Carlyle’s hands, as he gently pulls you closer by it. He does it slowly, almost agonizingly drawn out, giving you time to back out or stop it. But you don’t- you only lean in to close the gap, taking his lips in your own.

His kiss is warm and slightly rigid, just like you remember. You flinch, second guessing yourself- but his grip on your tie is still there, holding you firmly to him, clear that he has no intention of letting you go this time.

So, your hesitance melts away. Your other arm snakes around the yoke of his shoulders as you embrace him, the way you’ve been dying to do since you saw him standing at the threshold. You feel his tongue and the tips of his fangs, remapping the shape of them with your tongue.

Your kisses grow more heated by the second, barely keeping from gnashing teeth, desperate to get more of this feeling; there’s a pit of lacking in your chest needing to be filled from the time you spent apart.

When he finally releases his hold on your tie, you pull back just enough to part your lips, you’re a glutton for air and blinking back the moisture rimming your eyelids. Overcome with emotion, you lay your head on his shoulder, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes, but not ready to break your touch for the fear that you’ll wake up and it won’t have been real.

“I missed you.”

Your voice is barely audible as you speak into the padded surface of his suit shoulder.

“I missed you, too.” He responds in a breathy, almost half-laugh, stroking the back of your head with his claw points.

Several moments pass with you unmoving, entwined with your head resting on him. None of what was bothering you seems to matter much now.

You could stay like this forever- if only there weren’t things you had to do…

As if on cue, you hear the rumble of Carlyle clearing his throat, sounding particularly hollow from your ear’s position on his chest.

“We should be going if you want to make it to the ceremony on time.” Carlyle finally says quietly, checking his watch behind your head, but doesn’t budge yet himself, either.

“Right...” You sigh wistfully, still basking in the heady feeling of having your arms around him and his lips on yours again. You manage to somehow pry yourself away and slip your blazer on, but it’s the most difficult thing you’ve done in days.

Carlyle watches in approval as you straighten the lapels, a warm smile on his face.

“I have to say, you look stunning this evening.”

“My, what did I do to deserve such flattery?”

“Well- you see me in a suit regularly, but this is the first time I’ve gotten the pleasure of seeing you in one. It feels like a rare treat I should savor while I can.”

“I’m sorry but you’ll need to wait to do much more savoring, I’m afraid.” You say, unable to resist touching his face one more time, gently running your finger over the smooth stone surface of his bottom lip.

He kisses the tip of your thumb in response, looking you straight in the eyes as he does so.

You feel your face heat up immediately, and quickly detach your hold on him and open the door to the hallway before you give into the temptation to miss the event entirely.

“Sitting through this wedding is going to be difficult enough already- for completely other reasons now.” You quip, your voice coming out a slight rasp as you pass through the threshold of the hotel room.

“Look at this way-” Carlyle follows closely behind you, pulling the door closed with a soft click. “It's an excellent incentive.”

You manage to make it into the ceremony space just in time to not stand out as rude, sliding into the carved wooden benches at the back row, amongst the hushed pre-ceremony conversation.

The ceremony venue itself is just as extravagant as the reception area you got acquainted with while setting up the cake.

The tree is most present in this room. Huge branches reach in through the partially open roof of the area, clusters of blossoms covering the whole left side, suspended high over the altar and reaching past over the rows of wooden benches.

If nothing else, the pictures will be fantastic…

A small band of classic Elven musicians are in one corner, playing the equivalent to faerie elevator music on their antique reed and string instruments, to fill the room while people file into their seats.

Every attendee seems to have pulled out their best gown or set of robes from their wardrobe for the occasion, desperate to win the coveted and definitely real title of ‘best dressed wedding guest’. Swathes of Aurelian fabrics dominate your vision- shimmering flowing silks and light, twinkly sheer voiles, some likely literally enchanted with magic to float or gently shift like an aurora. You do see a handful of suits, as well as several more numan-standard cocktail dresses, but they are far outnumbered by the sheer amount of Elven finery in the room.

It’s suffocating.

You can already feel your back muscles tensing and your jaw setting, looking out at the gathering of rich people dressed in formal wear. Even knowing you’re well within the dress code, you can’t help but think you’re underdressed somehow.

Every time a set of new eyes glance over you with brief curiosity or hazy half-recognition, you’re hit with a new small wave of panic and disgust. You sure recognize many of them- all extended family members and acquaintances that you’ve encountered over the several years of large, overblown functions for every Elven holiday with Trevor’s family that you had to endure.

You’re sure none of them recognize you in turn- after all, why would they bother to remember you? You were only present for eight years. You were only engaged to be married. Why bother to remember something as trivial as what you look like or what your name was? At the very least, if any of them do remember who you are, they don’t dare acknowledge it.

You weren’t enough before, why would you be now?

The only small mercy is that the people closest to Trevor are far at the front, without a clear view to the back where you’re seated…

“So, how many crystal chandeliers do you think that lovely lady’s gown is worth?” Carlyle leans to the side with his back straight, just enough for his words to be audible to you but not likely anyone else, nudging your knee slightly with his own to direct your line of sight. You can hear the smirk on his lips without even turning to seeing his face. “Or do you think perhaps she robbed the baron’s bank vault directly?”

“That would be a difficult heist.” You reply, barely keeping a straight face, somehow no longer able to dwell on the occasional, real or imagined scan of familiar eyes on you. “Three, maybe four.”

A few minutes pass with Carlyle pleasantly distracting you from the impending ceremony with silly chatter. It works marvelously, until you catch sight of Trevor, dressed in uncharacteristically formal elven robes, taking his place at the altar. He, as always, looks as bored as he could probably get away with looking, though he’s standing at attention with his hands joined in front of him, rather than leaning on something.

A particularly bitter thought- that he looks far too overdressed for his face to look like he’s waiting for the bus- crosses your mind. He can’t even muster the effort to look excited on his wedding day, of all days? Typical.

Bile rises in your throat. You could vomit, and being in a crowd of people might be the only thing that keeps you from doing so. You want to yank the circlet off his head and wing it like a frisbee across the room.

Your teeth grit, and it takes all you have not to scowl. He’s attractive, and it makes you angry how good he looks in his stupid robes. Of course you find him attractive, you dated him for eight years. But any sense of thinking he’s good looking now comes with the added footnote of him leaving you when you needed his support the most.

You don’t want him anymore. You’re well aware of that. But you still can’t let go of the fact he’ll never own up to the pain that he caused you, or the fact that closure from him will stay out of reach-

The fact that you weren’t good enough.

Before you can spiral too far, however, you feel the familiar sensation of a stoneskin palm gently slipping into yours.

Carlyle doesn’t say anything, clearly not wanting to be disruptive during a ceremony, but he looks over at you and gently squeezes your fingers in a firm grip when your eyes make contact.

You don’t really need him to speak, because you can hear the message loud and clear-

I’m here.

He doesn’t take his hand back, letting it rest on your leg indefinitely. The feeling of the weight is comfortable and reassuring.

Warmth spreads in your chest. Maybe you can make it through this ceremony.

The music slows, then immediately shifts into a recognizable, though mellow composition of a wedding march. Heads all turn in expectation.

The bride finally appears at the end of the aisle, and despite your feelings around the wedding itself, you find yourself a bit stunned by the sight. Devin is pretty anyway, so it’s not surprising that she’s also pretty on her wedding day of all days. Even if her face wasn’t obfuscated by a shifting, translucent veil, she would still be almost unrecognizable in the sheer amount of layers of fabric in varying levels of opacity she’s clad in, between the veil, train, and the full body of the gown. The bodice is fitted, with slim sleeves that start at the elbow and go down all the way past her wrist into delicate closures on her middle fingers. But the rest of the gown is simply the most ornate sea of cloth you’ve ever laid eyes on. It’s so foreign to anything you’ve ever seen her wear before, and you have to imagine it must be heavy, if the squadron of flower-clad elven children in white dress, barefoot and nymphlike, holding the train of her dress behind her are any indication.

It’s definitely still Devin under all that finery though, because she can’t hold the emotionless countenance of a demure elven bride at all- she’s too overjoyed, a permanent grin on her face as she tries to lock eyes with each and every person in the rows and give them a tiny, hurried wave from behind her bouquet- starting with you. You can’t help but smile sheepishly and return the quick wave. A small child abruptly and enthusiastically throws a fistful of flower petals at your row as soon as the bride passes by. A single petal clings to your blazer.

Trevor manages to smile in what looks like an almost genuine manner, but not after a moment of thought.

She finally reaches the altar, and the gaggle of blonde elven children are dismissed, seemingly barely restraining themselves from dashing back to their seats.

Devin is already visibly struggling to keep her composure, even through the veil, the sniffling audible in the gaps of the music.

Like most elven ceremonies, the wedding itself is elaborate and a bit drawn out. It involves multiple phases, the first of which involves both of the betrothed’s parents, even before any actual marriage vows are made between the couple. You of course are familiar with this, given the research you had started back when it was going to be you up there. This is the closest thing that an elven wedding ceremony has to a typical numan bridal party, instead focusing more on the couple themselves.

Trevor has always looked like a perfect mixture of his parents, almost like he was purposefully created in a lab, selected from their best features. They never quite warmed up to you, so you simply try to avoid making much eye contact with either of them. Devin, on the other hand, looks like a carbon copy of her mother, with her father having a more neutral complexion and dark brown hair- likely a grey elf, rather than a dawn one. As you let your eyes wander to avoid looking at Trevor and his parents too much, you follow Devin’s parents back to their row. Your eyes settle on a curiosity in the front row next to them; what certainly is the back of the head and shoulders of an orc, towering above the svelte people around them.

And of course, such a culturally important ceremony is completely performed in an archaic Aurelian dialect of Elvish. You struggle to follow along with the small amount of basic Elvish you learned from your mother, but it is a battle you’re slowly losing. Even Sunday mass for the Burning Lady doesn’t take nearly this long, and that might as well be a standard measure for what constitutes “too long” back home.

Several more observances go by, from what you can tell: A cleansing ritual with pastel colored clouds pouring from a small rose gold censer, Another chanting rite performed by the priestess for longevity and fertility, A spell performed to dissolve the bride’s veil with a sparkle of magic. Then, what you assume must be their vows, given that either of them speak following being prompted by the officiant. And after that, finally, is the actual handfasting.

A set of hazardously long ribbons are secured around their joined hands and the priestess says the last of their spiel. The music slowly starts to build back up.

Bride and groom kiss.

After all of the anticipation, you thought it would’ve felt worse- a twinge of jealousy, or even disgust. But you don’t really feel much at all, apart from a strange, deja-vu adjacent sensation that it might’ve been you up there, if things were different.

And finally, somewhere, in the back of your mind… there’s relief.

You can’t say you mind that it isn’t you. Not anymore.

It’s not you. And that’s a wonderful thing.

You squeeze Carlyle’s hand.

Mercifully, after a one more short closing verse of Elvish, the new couple walks back up the aisle, fastened together, hand in hand.

If nothing else can be said- at least Devin looks happy. You can’t bring yourself to feel sour at the moment, regardless of how wary you are for her, given who the groom is.

“Well, that was enlightening.” Carlyle rises to his feet and moves to the end of the row, where he stands, straightening the buttons on his blazer. “Very… thorough.”

“Reminded me a bit of going to mass back home as a kid, to be honest.” You chuckle as you scooch to the end of the bench after him. “But much less kneeling.”

“Oh? We must’ve gone to different types of mass, then. I haven’t been since I was a child, but I clearly remember ours was always very succinct.” He holds out his hand to you with an amused smile, giving you a flash of fang. “If we ever find ourselves on the Queen’s Isle, maybe you can instruct me on the finer details.”

“I’d like that.” You grasp his hand and he helps you to your feet.

You don’t even need to plaster a smile on your face after that, and head to the reception area, hand in hand with your own date.

All that’s left now is to see the cake through to the cutting.

>> ✨ MASTERLIST >> ☕ KO-FI

#exophilia #monster lover #monster romance #monster x human #monster x reader #gargoyle x reader #gargoyle #male x male #mlm #mxm #male reader #series: something borrowed #oc: carlyle #oc: declan #nine of words

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claire-elvisgirl · 8 months

Text

ALMOST ALWAYS TRUE - pt. 2

Hi everyone...part 2 is ready! Hold still...it's gonna be... 😱🤯😵💣💥🥵💦

Summary: You argue with Elvis because you want to go on tour with him. He puts you back in your place.

Warnings: 18+, anger, cheatin, arguing, violence, jealousy, possession, drinking, forced sex, a little bondage, fingering, spanking for punishment.

Word count: 2544

After arguing with Elvis you needed some time on your own, to think. Even if he told you to stay in your room waiting for him, you couldn’t obey him this time. You know you were risking so much, but you felt that was the right thing to do. You went out waiting for Cindy to pick you up. As she arrived you hug her tight. “Thank you for coming! I needed to talk to someone!”

She knew too well your situation, as everytime you argued with Elvis, she would be your shoulder to cry on. You decided to stay in the hotel bar and ordered something to drink. Cindy looked at you worried. “Y/n you can't go on like this forever, what did he do this time?”

You looked up sighing: “Well, he asked me to go on tour with him!” Cindy was enthusiastic! “Hey that's great, that was your dream!! What's wrong about that??”.

“I told him I would go with him on one condition, he has to stop to be so jealous and possessive. I need my spaces too.”

Cindy lose her smile. “Uh..I see. And I suppose this got him angry!”

“Angry?! He was furious! He said horrible things to me, he said I’m a slut because he thinks I flirt with the guys when he’s not around!”

“He did what?” Cindy was shocked. “You heard me...” you started to cry. “I don’t know what to do, Cindy, I love him and I know he loves me too...in his way, but this is too much!”

You two spend the evening talking about your relationship and Cindy tries to give you her best advices. Suddenly you felt a hand on your shoulder and you jumped scared, thinking it could be Elvis. You looked behind you and there stood Jerry. He was one of Elvis’s best friends and you felt a strong bond with him, because he was the most sensitive of the guys, always ready to give good advices.

“Jerry you scared me!”

“Hi girls…everything’s alright?”

You looked at him sadly “More or less..”

Jerry sat at your table. “Hey y/n, I know what happened…E told us everything before rehearsal!”

“Wonderful, now he spread our private things around like in a gossip magazine!! Fuck him, I don’t know what to do...”

Cindy got up. “Y/n, I really have to go now, you sure you’ll be ok?”. You nodded.

Jerry replied: “Don’t worry Cindy, I’ll stay with her for a while!”

You smiled to him surprised and pleased: “Thank you Jer!”

Cindy left. You were alone with Jerry and you kept on talking about the situation.

He was very comprehensive and he talked to you gently. “Y/n look, I know Elvis since we were young, I know he could be hard to handle sometimes, but he's a good guy and you know he loves you!”

“Of course I know it Jerry, but this time he's gone too far!”

He stood in silent. You kept on talking for at least an hour. Then you watched the time. “Oh my God, I have to go, before he gets back. If he knows I went out, he's gonna kill me! Oh, and Jerry…please don’t say anything to him!”

Jerry stopped you grabbing your hand. “Y/n, remember, don't let anyone treat you that way! Not even Elvis!” then he pulls you towards him and kiss you gently. You didn't know why, but you didn't stopped him. He went down on your neck and only then you stepped back from him.

“Jerry…please, don't!” you replied looking at him with teary eyes.

He stepped back too, not knowing what to say. “Y/n, I’m…I’m sorry, I don’t know what…”

“It’s…it’s ok Jerry, just let me go! Please!”. He let your hand go and watched you as you ran away to the elevator. You got up in your room, hoping Elvis would have been still rehearsing, since it wasn’t too late. As you entered the room you spotted a dark figure on the couch and as you turned on the lights you got chills in your body. Elvis was sitting there with a glass of whiskey in his hand. His right leg on his left knee. His eyes were full of anger.

You tried to say something, but he didn't give you time. “Didn't I tell ya to stay here??”. His voice was like a whisper full of hate. You didn’t know what to say, you had no excuses. He got up from the couch and walk towards you raising his voice.

“Don't look at me like that. Ya know you're mine and ain't nobody got the right to see ya when I ain't here. Now, who were ya with? tell me!?”

“Elvis please calm down, I was with Cindy. You can call her and she'll confirm!”

“Oh, will she? Why don't we call her now then?”

He takes your phone and calls: “Hey, Cindy! This is Elvis. Was Claire with ya, tonight?” You watched him listening to Cindy as his face turns red of anger! He throws the phone into the sofa. “I knew it. Ya thought ya could fool me, huh?”

You looked at him surprirsed: “Why? What did she told you?” You couldn't believe that Cindy could lie.

He was furious and walked the room back and forth shouting: “Well, I'm tryin' to figure it out here. According to Cindy ya were with her until midnight, but ya came back now and it’s 2 o clock!! What happened in the other two hours???”

“Elvis listen, she probabily gave you the wrong hour, we were together all night, I swear!”

He walks toward you and grabs your arm. “That's a damn lie! Ya were with another man, weren't ya? Speak now, or I'm gonna do to ya what I never wanted to!”

You dared him: “You dunt have the guts to do it...”

He gets angrier than ever: “Ya want me to show ya? I will show ya what I'm capable of. One more word, one more word and I'm gonna fix ya!”

You freed your hand from his and shouted in his face: “Oh you know what Elvis? Go fuck yourself! I'm tired, you never believe me!!!”

You grabbed your phone and called Cindy again: "Cindy what the hell you told to Elvis??? He doesn't believe me!”

He took the phone from your hand: “Let me talk to her, I'm sure she'll tell me the truth this time!!!”

A few minutes later, he hung up the phone. “Well, ya know what? Cindy just confirmed what I already knew. Ya were not with her all evening, you liar!”

He took you by your arm and made you sit on the bed. “Let me ask ya again: where were you tonight?”

You looked him straight in the eyes. “I was with Cindy. I swear! Ya have to believe me, we were at the hotel bar, ya can ask there too.”

He let you go and hid his face in his hands. “God y/n, why can't anybody ever tell me the truth here? I've just been lied to this whole time!”. Elvis took the glass of whisky and drank a long sip.

You tried to stop him: “Honey please, you won't resolve nothing with that!”

He looked at you and then he threw the glass on the wall. “Don't ya tell me what to do! You're the last person who could give me advices. Ya lied to me! How the hell do ya wanna make up for this, huh? “

You looked down and sat on the couch.

Then he looked back at you. “But don't worry, I know the right way to put sense into that damn head of yours!”. He sat beside you with his face very close to yours and looks at you for a few seconds.

You felt trapped: “Elvis what are you...”

He put his hand over your mouth: “Ya want tha worst outta me darlin'? Y'all just askin' for it!” Elvis started to take of his belt. He moved his pants down his body. He smiled and moved his hands trying to take off your dress.

“Elvis, no please…”

“Oh, sweetheart, don't be like this!”. He kissed you again, this time more urgently and you tried to stop him: “Elvis, this is not the way to settle things down!”

He laughed: “Aw, if you only knew the way I settle these things in Memphis, darlin'... you'd be begging for this. I'm just sick and tired of your attitude. You've been causin' trouble all morning! Now daddy has to teach ya a lesson!”

He put his hands between your legs and kissed your neck.

“Oh, y/n, you're so damn sexy…” he groaned.

His anger was fading and his voice was softer and more calm. You were starting to let yourself go, maybe you really needed a bit of intimacy. He kissed your shoulder and your neck. He looks at you as if you were the most marvelous woman on earth, but after a while, his eyes spotted something on you neck. He moved your hair away: “What's that, baby?”

“What?” you opened your eyes and looked at him.

“This!” he touched your neck. “Honey is that a fuckin’ hickey??”

He yelled and pinned you to the bed: “Answer me!!! Who did that to you?”

You were shocked. It could have happened only with Jerry two hours earlier, but you didn't noticed.

“Elvis I don't…”

He grabs you by the neck. “Answer me!!!” You tried to stop him, but the more you struggled, the stronger he tightened his hand. “Answer me, or I'll break your goddamn little neck!!”

“J-Jerry…”

He immediately left you and looked at you in shock: “Jerry?”

Elvis felt hurt and sad. There was a lot he would have liked to say and ask you, but he couldn’t seem to put the words together. All that came out of his mouth was a frustrated groan as he went over to the drink table and poured another glass. He swallowed the whisky and he stood looking at you.

“Elvis please stop, you’re drunk!”

He yelled back: “I could be dead drunk y/n, but that wouldn't change what happened. I am done with ya, don’t bother comin' back here 'cause I don't wanna see your face anymore.”

He was almost crying.

You looked at Elvis stunned: “I’m not gonna leave you!”

“Oh, you're not?? Why not, darlin'? 'Cause ya love me so much and you don't wanna lose me? Well it shows…” Elvis laughed ironically then drank another glass.

“That's right…I'm a stupid woman who can't help but love you!”

“Yeah, you are… and I’m just more stupid for loving you!”

You both looked at each other, then he talked again: “Anyway, if you really love me, I hope you're not too sleepy, because tonight I'll have to teach you how to respect your man!!” He pushed you back on the bed. Elvis's attitude was getting more disturbing every second. You wanted to run away, but you didn't realize where or how.

“You’re gonna pay for everything, and don’t worry, you’re gonna like it!”

“Don't you dare to…”

He puts his hands over your underwear and start to moves it to the side. Then he stops. “No! I think ya need a stronger message here!” He ripped your panties apart and slid two fingers into your pussy while rubbing hardly your clit. You gasped and held your breath.

He moved them around inside of you, feeling how wet you already were, before sliding another finger inside, causing you to moan loud. “Mmmh...tight and warm, just how I like it!” His thumb rubbed against your sensitive spot as he fucked you with his three fingers, sending waves of pleasure through your body. “Tell me that you want it y/n, tell me that you like it!”

You answered in pleasure. “Y-yes Elvis, I…”

He stopped and he pulled his fingers out of you.

“What…why did you stop?”

He licked your juices from his fingers. “So damn good…I told ya I was gonna teach ya a lesson!”

He turned you over and pulled you on his lap. He moved his hand down, caressing your ass cheeks.

“Wait, you wouldn’t…” He smacked hard, causing you to moan loudly in surprise.

“Ya liked that, don't ya?” He spanked you again and heard you moaning in delight.

“Yes, that’s it, girl!” Your breathing became heavier. “You're such an obedient little slut aren't you?!” He asks teasingly.

“I feel ya getting close!” His hand came down again to smack your ass cheek causing you to cry out in pleasure.

“Have ya learned your lesson? You've had enough?” As he spanked you with one hand, with the other he went down to your breasts. He squeezed your tits and nipples.

You nodded. “M-message received!”

“Good girl!” He took you up and pushed you back on the bed. He smiled at you before kissing you deeply, while still playing with you breast and fingering your pussy at the same time.

“Oh Elvis…I’m sorry for everyt…”

He covered your mouth with his hand. “Keep that mouth shut, I’m not through with ya yet!” He reached over to his side table grabbing one of his scarf.

You looked at him in disbelief. “What the hell…”

“Ssssh. Now you're gonna do ad I say! Give me your hands!”

“If you think I’m gonna…”

He grabbed your cheek. “I said…give me…your hands!! Now!!” he ordered. He tied your hands together. “There ya go. How does that feel?” He asked smiling at you. “You look absolutely adorable when you're helpless like this. Ya know why I did this? For your lesson’s last part!! Don't worry, darling, now it's time to have fun!!!”. He kissed you softly.

“Elvis…”

He undressed completely and climb on top of you. You could feel his hard cock all over your body as he moved up and down. Then he moved just right in front of your entrance. His hands grip your waist firmly as he slides his member inside of you. He kept to move within you wrapping his arm around your shoulders pulling you close as he keeps moving in and out of your pussy. "My baby girl, just hold on tight. I'm not going to stop until we both cum.” His strokes became quicker and more intense as his thrusts seemed to come in rapid succession speeding up, slamming himself deeper into your pussy.

He groaned loudly as he felt his orgasm building quickly. With those final few breaths he let loose, filling you completely with his sticky seed. “My precious princess...”

As you began to shake from the force of his climax he kept to move inside of you, making sure every little drop is released inside of your womb. In that moment you arched your back and you reached the highest pleasure of your life, cuming on his cock, squeezing it with your walls. “Oh God …Elvis!”

He smiled widely hearing this. “Good girl. That was incredible!” he said smiling at her as he pulled out slowly, letting go his softening member, which leaked some white liquid on your belly.

You kissed him with all the love you could feel. “Who knows…maybe this is what we both needed!”.

He smiled: “Yeah…maybe! I love you!”

#elvis presley #elvis the king #elvis fans #elvis history #70s elvis #elvis smut #60s elvis #50s elvis #elvis fanfiction #elvis fanfic

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redux-iterum · 10 months

Text

Burning Hearts: Chapter Nineteen

(AO3 counterpart here.)

“So what do you think?”

Fireheart’s tail tapped nervously as Ravenwing, sitting across from him, lowered his chin in thought. He had been the first cat Fireheart had seen upon returning home, and he had quickly pulled his friend outside of camp to explain the sign.

He couldn’t help but admire how calmly Ravenwing was considering the matter. Fireheart had only gotten more and more anxious as this short amount of time had went on, his mind swarming with nasty interpretations of the silver bell and its markings. By the time he’d reached Ravenwing, deaths and disfigurements crowded his vision.

Ravenwing had listened to the entire story in silence, his ears perked and gaze focused, gradually intensifying until the conclusion. Now, his eyes were narrowed, pupils distantly slim as they shifted from side to side, looking at nothing in front of him. He was still quiet, but his mind was clearly hard at work, untangling the knots and matts Fireheart had presented.

“I think…” Ravenwing said slowly, then paused, lifting his head again. His eyes focused again, troubled. “I think you’re right. This is a Greystripe sign.”

This did not relieve Fireheart any. “What does it mean, though?”

Ravenwing grimaced. “A silver thing that’s battered and scratched up? I can’t imagine anything good.” He stood up. “You know what we should do?”

“Find Greystripe and tell him,” Fireheart said.

Ravenwing nodded.

“He’s probably at the border again.” Fireheart stood up too and started off at a trot, gesturing with a tilt of his head. “Hopefully alone. Come on. I’ll do the talking, if you want me to.”

With a sigh, Ravenwing followed after his shorter friend. “I don’t know if he’ll listen to either of us more than the other. You’re better at this stuff than I am, though. We can try both of us, I guess.”

“Works for me,” Fireheart said, and continued through the chilly forest. He could swear there was some frost blooming on a tree to his right.

Ravenwing caught up to Fireheart after a bit, and was silent for a long moment before asking quietly, “What do you think he’ll say?”

“I imagine he’ll be upset,” Fireheart replied, “but that shouldn’t deter us. Even if he refuses to listen, we need to warn him. If for nothing else, just to say we tried.”

Ravenwing said nothing, but he took in a soft breath out of the corner of Fireheart’s eye.

Nothing else was said on the walk. Fireheart was busy silently rehearsing what he was going to say. He was certain Ravenwing was doing the same thing.

Be patient, be careful, be kind, he repeated to himself. All we can do is try.

The night’s chill made Fireheart shiver multiple times on the trek. It was plucking at his hairs and his pawpads themselves seemed to stiffen with every step on the frigid ground. At the very least, it wasn’t raining right now. Not that that provided much comfort for the pair of warriors.

They reached the border alongside Sunningrocks—empty, thankfully, with only the fishy scent of RiverClan’s marks to accompany Fireheart and Ravenwing as they walked.

“Where did we see them last?” Ravenwing whispered, like it was something he didn’t want to be overheard.

“About halfway down, I think,” Fireheart whispered back. He swiveled his ears for the slightest sound and got nothing but the constant, underlying hissing of the river. No scents or sounds of anyone present… their best chance would be now, with only one cat there to be talked with.

Fireheart chanced a dip along the border and poked his head out of the forest, looking from north to south. Nobody in sight. Perfect.

He rejoined Ravenwing, his footsteps subconsciously softening the further down they went. Ravenwing did the same, until they were both hardly even brushing against any fallen leaves.

Finally, they were a patch of bushes away from the meeting place. Curiously, though they seemed alone, a noise like heaving breath reached them. A few steps closer, and they could catch Greystripe’s scent. Fireheart and Ravenwing looked at each other before a panicked gulp pushed them forward.

They stepped through the brush as silently as they had walked here—that quickly proved unnecessary. Only Greystripe was here, but even so, he looked like he’d been stricken in the chest and was fighting to breathe again. His back legs were flopped onto one side of his haunches, with his front legs splayed out, every clawed toe spread, gripping the forest floor like his life depended on it. His yellow eyes were far away and stretched out more than an owl’s. Every single hair on his body stuck out perfectly perpendicular to whatever body part it was attached to.

Fireheart approached, concern stiffening his spine. “Greystripe? Are you okay?”

Greystripe jolted and twisted his head to stare at Fireheart. His mouth opened and shut multiple times, each time failing to get a noise out.

Ravenwing joined Fireheart, his tail puffing out a bit. “What’s wrong?”

A few more attempts to speak, and then Greystripe gulped down air and rasped, “Pr– Privetclaw was just here.”

His friends said nothing, waiting with growing nervousness.

“He said—” Greystripe shuddered with enough violence to almost fall over completely. “He said Silverstream is in the nursery now.”

Fireheart squinted for a moment before realization hit him and his jaw dropped.

“She’s…” Greystripe gulped again. “Kits. She’s pregnant. And… I think I’m the father.”

Complete silence followed this. Each tom was frozen in place. Not even a bird broke the quiet.

In the end, it was Ravenwing that spoke first, and it was with a calm, flat voice that made Fireheart want to take a step away from him in anticipation.

“You ‘think’, or you ‘know’?” he asked, pronouncing each word like a claw-pluck.

Greystripe didn’t hear the danger. His eyes were far away again. “I… I know. I know. Privetclaw knew too. That’s why– that’s why he told me.”

Fireheart chanced a look at Ravenwing and actually stepped to the side, distancing from the burning air coming off his friend’s body. Ravenwing’s fur bristled, starting from the base of his tail and going along his back, almost up onto his head. His pale claws unsheathed and sank into the soil, and his tail twitched, twitched harder, and then swiped side-to-side.

“You,” he said, growing louder and louder with each word, “are. AN. IDIOT.”

Greystripe looked up, shock replacing the terror.

“A complete idiot!” Ravenwing shouted. “Did you just paw sand over your mind?! You knew from jump exactly how these things always go! You knew that cross-Clan relationships never end well! You KNEW that!”

“Yeah…” Greystripe mumbled, looking down now.

“And yet! And yet! You had the gall to yell at us for warning you!” Ravenwing stepped forward, his back arched. “You just refused to listen to reason, and we tried to help you, but you had to insult us, didn’t you, you UTTER krrok*!”

Part of Fireheart wanted to stop Ravenwing’s tirade, but another part (that was admonishing itself a bit) was taking some dark satisfaction in the guilty shame on Greystripe’s face. He elected to say nothing and let Greystripe take his punishment.

“What even compelled you to get with her?!” Ravenwing continued, his voice reaching the open space of Sunningrocks and echoing to the water. “You couldn’t have just left it at meeting up and whispering sweet-nothings?! Did you really think nothing bad could come from this?!”

Greystripe said nothing. His head hung low enough for his nose to almost touch the ground.

“I swear on the Three—” Ravenwing’s tail was a blur now as he shook his head several times. He turned to Fireheart, who leaned away a bit. “So we might be too late!”

Fireheart’s stomach clenched. “You think so?”

“Depending on what it meant, maybe!”

Greystripe dared to look up now. “What meant what?”

“The sign,” Ravenwing growled. “The sign that Fireheart found tonight.”

Greystripe’s eyes, lit with fear again, went to Fireheart.

He spoke quietly and calmly, and not a little unhappily. “Yellowfang and I were near the Houses, and we saw a grey squirrel burying a silver bell—a little round thing. The bell was pretty badly damaged. Yellowfang knew it was a sign, but she didn’t know what for.” His ears folded back. “But I’m sure we can guess.”

Fear returned to terror. Greystripe looked between the pair almost pleadingly, like they could give him reassurances that everything would be fine. Neither of them did. He sunk to his belly, shaking a little.

“I screwed up,” he choked out.

Fireheart nodded sadly.

“You sure did,” Ravenwing snapped. “Now you and Silverstream are going to be in massive trouble, whether or not you get found out. Good job.”

Now was the time to step in. Fireheart reached out with a paw and gently touched Ravenwing’s leg. He looked over in surprise, greeted by Fireheart’s soft warning expression. A blink, a flinch, and his rage dissipated like mist in the sun. He was Ravenwing again, anxious and uncertain, and he now stared at Greystripe in a near-panicked state, his words visibly washing over him.

Greystripe did not appear to notice this change. He just turned his head to gaze out across the river. “I… I don’t know what to do.”

Fireheart cleared his throat quietly. “Well, the first thing is to stop seeing Silverstream.”

To his surprise and immense relief, Greystripe just nodded distantly. “Yeah, that… yeah.” He shuddered out a sigh. “I’m an idiot.”

Fireheart gave Ravenwing a look, but Ravenwing was silent. Like Greystripe before, he was busy just trying to force words out of his mouth to begin with. Fireheart was about to speak instead when Greystripe turned his head back to them, his eyes now dim with defeat.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Ravenwing and Fireheart blinked in unison.

“For– you know.” Greystripe gestured aimlessly. “Being a colossal prick. And a krrok. You were right. Sorry.”

What anger Fireheart had in his system melted away and dispersed from his feet to the leaves below them. “It’s fine.”

“No, it isn’t,” Greystripe said to Fireheart, though his eyes were on Ravenwing. “I ruined everything with Silverstream and I nearly ruined everything with you two because I’m stupid.” His face turned anxious. “Or, I hope it was ‘nearly’.”

Both of them watched Ravenwing now, apprehensively waiting for his deliberation. Ravenwing, eyes distant, set his jaw, took in a deep breath, and relaxed his fur again.

“Just nearly,” he said with a blink.

Greystripe let out a relieved sound that was more of a wheeze than a sigh. Fireheart felt it too.

“You’re still in trouble if those kits look like you,” Ravenwing added, “if she does end up having them at all. She can try sending them back, can’t she?”

The relief left Greystripe’s face, his eyes sagging again. “I don’t know. Is that a thing you can force?”

“What thing?” Fireheart asked. “Isn’t she having kits?”

“Maybe,” Ravenwing said, contemplative now. “Sometimes an expecting queen will stop expecting. The kittens in her just… go away. I’m not sure what the exact cause could be. It just happens sometimes.”

Fireheart frowned. “What happens to their souls, then?”

“They get sent into another body to try again,” Ravenwing said.

“Oh. Is that StarClan’s doing?”

“Could be. The stories on that stuff are pretty vague.” Ravenwing grimaced. “Cats usually don’t like talking about it.”

Fireheart’s thoughts zipped over to the Houses, to Rosy’s house where she no doubt was being kept inside. What if her kits go away too? She’d be devastated. Is StarClan in charge of them?

“I don’t think you can make it happen on purpose,” Greystripe said, shaking Fireheart out of his thoughts. “She’ll probably try, but… I don’t know.” He slowly got to his feet, steadier than before. “All I know is that if they look like me, she’s going to be in a lot of trouble that even Crookedstar couldn’t get her out of.”

Ravenwing’s ears flattened. “And you’ll be in trouble, too.”

“I don’t really care about that part.” Greystripe rolled a shoulder listlessly. “I mean, it won’t be great, but I’m more worried about her and my kits. Stars, I hope they just look like her. They can get away with being big if they just have her colors and face.”

There was a moment of silence, each tom lost in his own worries, before Fireheart spoke up. “What will happen to them if the truth comes out? They won’t be, like, forced out of the Clan or anything, will they?”

“No!” Greystripe balked. “No. No Clan is that cruel. But… she might get shunned for a long time.” He paused, twitching an ear. “Actually, she told me something like this happened before she was born. She didn’t want to talk about it, but she said it eventually worked out for her Clan. Maybe it’ll work out for us, too.”

“You don’t really believe that, do you?” Ravenwing asked quietly.

Greystripe sighed and hung his head again. “No. We’re feather-plucked.”

“Well, let’s not panic,” Fireheart said quickly. “Silverstream’s pregnant, that’s all we have. Does anyone else know about you and her? Are they going to tell on her?”

“A friend or two might know. Privetclaw sounded like he does.” Greystripe’s tail puffed out. “That’s probably why he doesn’t like me. He’s not good at hiding that.”

“And the chances of them saying anything?”

“Low, I think,” Greystripe said. “I hope.”

Ravenwing perked up. “Well, remember, queens don’t have to say who the father of their litter is. Maybe their matriarch will ask, but no one gets to bully her about it.”

“Oh—“ Greystripe looked up and nodded eagerly. “Yes, right. If she keeps it between us, and if StarClan is kind, they can all go without knowing anything.”

“Including the kits?” Fireheart tilted his head. “Shouldn’t they know who they are?”

“Not if it’s going to hurt them,” Ravenwing said.

“Kits go without knowing their father all the time,” Greystripe agreed. “They don’t have to know about anything. Not this whole thing, not me.” His face fell a little. “Though I would like to know them. Someday.”

Fireheart gave him a sympathetic nod. “Well, let’s not focus on the future just yet. Give Silverstream time to… ‘send them back’?” He looked at Ravenwing, who nodded. “Send them back, yeah. And if she has them, then we deal with that later.”

Greystripe’s ears pricked. “‘We’?”

“Well, yeah,” Fireheart said. “We’re not dumping you or anything.” He gave Greystripe a cheeky look. “You did apologize.”

Ravenwing twitched his whiskers. “You did do that.”

If it was possible, Greystripe looked even more relieved than earlier. He gave each of them a grateful look and hesitantly stepped forward, lowering his head submissively. Fireheart met him with a headbump—a very gentle one for Greystripe—and Ravenwing did the same.

“So let’s get out of here before someone finds us,” Fireheart said cheerfully. “We have some hunting to catch up on. And stars know your scent needs to fade.”

Greystripe snorted and Ravenwing purred. Fireheart beckoned with his tail and led the two further into the woods, keeping at a brisk pace until the river could no longer be heard behind them.

*”Krrok”: outrageously stupid cat, an idiot beyond idiots.

#warrior cats #redux iterum #iterum #chapter #chapter nineteen #book two #arc one #burning hearts

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fandomsandflyingstingrays · 11 months

Text

Stepping Stones: Chapter 6

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!”

Raine gasps out the words between strides, careening through the snapdragons and flinging themself down beside Eda on the crest of their hill. They scan her face for any sign of irritation, but all they find is fond amusement.

“Meeting ran long?” she asks, pulling open the basket beside her and handing them a sandwich. Part of them wonders when she became someone who makes sandwiches, but the rest of them is far too ravenous to care, barely tasting the food as they cram it into their mouth and spray crumbs all over their shirt. It’s lucky, they reflect, that Eda is probably cares the least about manners out of everyone they know.

“You could say that,” they sigh when the sandwich is demolished and the burning in their stomach is satiated. “Terra barged in after fifteen minutes.”

Eda groans. “Again?”

A sharp ache pounds at Raine’s temples, and they massage them, nodding. Back during their days as a coven head, Darius used to bug them constantly about how far they leaned into headaches as a symptom of the memory-altering potion Terra had been feeding them. Raine had always told him the same thing— headaches were the one symptom of altered memories they didn’t have to fake, because just the thought of Terra was enough to start one.

Eda gently pulls Raine downwards, situating their head on her lap, and tenderly rubs their temples. “What did she want that made you—” she glances at her watch— “two hours late to our weekly dinner?”

Raine moans. They suspected it had to be a couple of hours, but it deeply irritates them to have it confirmed. “I’m so sorry, Eda. You must have been worried.”

“Rainestorm. It’s fine. What happened.”

“Oh, she tried to poison everyone.”

Eda snorts. “I don’t know why I’m surprised. Can’t we just lock her away already?”

“We don’t have the authority. No one on the Isles does, until—”

“—We hold an election,” Eda finishes, understanding dawning in her tone.

“Exactly. Once we got Terra subdued, that was the rest of the meeting. I really wanted to let you know I’d be late, but everyone just kept talking, there wasn’t even enough of a break to send a message.”

“I figured it was something like that. Did you finally figure out the details, at least?”

Raine nods. “Most of them. We want there to be five councillors, one for each region of the Isles: arms, legs, torso. The hope is that eventually we’ll have one councilor for each region, like Luz talks about, but right now…”

“…There are few enough qualified people that we need to take what we can get?”

“Uh-huh. Anyone who wants to can submit themselves as a candidate this week, and we’re thinking we’ll do a sort of rehearsal election that the end of the month where everyone votes on fifteen people to make it to actual candidacy. Then we’re thinking about four months of campaigning before the real deal.”

“That sounds well-thought-out,” Eda says. “I’m assuming Terra intends to apply?”

“Of course. But Darius does, too, so at least there’s that. Lilith tried to talk Steve into it, but he says once things are settled, he wants to ‘take some time to chill and figure out what Steve wants to do’.”

“A man after my own heart,” Eda says approvingly.

“What about you? Would you consider applying?”

Eda laughs so hard she knocks Raine off her lap. “Oh, that’s a good one,” she cackles, wiping her eyes as they sit up. “What about me makes you think I’m an authority figure in the making?”

“You have a good head on your shoulders, Eda. Better than most witches.”

Eda rips her head off and raises it above her shoulders. Raine sticks their tongue out at her.

“I’m serious! Everyone on our committee joined a coven, let themselves become complacent with what Belos was doing at some point in their lives. You never once bought into it. You understand better than almost anyone what magic is supposed to be.”

Eda smiles, a little sadly. “Thanks, Rainestorm. But making up rules and telling people to follow them isn’t me, whether I believe in them or not. I have different ideas for how to leave my mark.”

There’s a note in her tone that makes Raine think that’s not just a throwaway line; she has a plan. They open their mouth to ask about it, but Eda cuts them off.

“You want to apply, though.”

Raine chokes, heat flooding their face as they fix their eyes on the flowers. “Wh-what?”

“Oh, come on. I know you. You have a million ideas for how to fix this place up. That’s all you’ve been talking about for two months.”

“Having ideas isn’t the same as being able to implement them.”

“And what would stop you from doing that?”

“Being a leader isn’t just about making laws, it’s about—“ Raine runs a hand through their hair— “it’s about making speeches and connecting with people and getting them to like you.”

“Name one person who doesn’t like you.”

“Terra.”

“Someone with a soul, Raine.”

“Okay. I’m good at talking to people I know. This is crowds of strangers, all the time. Strangers are scary, Eda!”

Eda smiles a little. “A very wise witch once said you can’t run from your fears forever. That’s why you have to get the jump on them, and—”

“—Punch them in the face. A wise witch who doesn’t think anyone they don’t know is scouring them for flaws every time they open their mouth.”

“Well, an even wiser witch, who does project their insecurities into the thoughts of people they don’t know but is good with people anyway, said not to give up so easily.” Eda reaches for Raine’s hands, weaving her fingers through theirs without breaking eye contact. “They probably need you more than you realize.”

Raine lets out a breath, their eyes falling shut.

The thing is: they want to believe her. They have three notebooks and counting crammed with ideas for how to improve the Isles, everything from education to justice to media. They’ve seen what it’s like from the bottom to the top, all the gold and all the rust, and they’ve spent their whole life trying to improve it. They don’t want to stop now.

But after years of lying to the most ruthless witch in the realm to his face, days of holding that witch in their body, months of leading a rebellion and risking their life, watching people they love risk theirs— they still break out into a sweat at the idea of all those eyes on them. All those people scrutinizing their every choice, their every move. All those people they want to make everything right for, who they could never fail more badly. And beyond that…

“Do you think anyone would even take me seriously?”

Raine opens their eyes to find Eda’s face creasing in confusion. “What do you mean? You were the head of a coven—“

“The bard coven. You saw how many people dismissed that magic at Hexside, and I can tell you plenty of them did in the covens. What if people just see me as a performer? Someone who makes music, not laws?”

“Well, then this is the perfect opportunity to change their minds. To show them the leader of the Covens Against the Throne, the witch who held Belos in their body and forced him out, the witch who stomped Evil Emperor Jerk-Face into the ground.”

A smile tugs at Raine’s lips despite their best efforts. “Eda—“

“Raine. Do you want to run or not?”

“I don’t know.”

“I think you do. Take yourself out of other people’s heads for a second. Stop wondering if other people think you’re capable, or ready, or likable, or anything else. They’ll decide that during the election. You are the only person who can decide if you want to give them that chance. Do you?”

Raine closes their eyes and tries to find the place inside themself they went during their speeches on the streets of Bonesbourough, their strategy sessions with the CATTs, their final race to the emperor’s throne room. To find the witch they want to be, rather than the one they try to pull together for other people.

“Yes.”

The word is so quiet they barely even hear it, so quiet they’re not even sure it’s true.

And then the palisman staff they took with them to the meeting and up the hill, the palisman staff that for the last month has sat wooden and unmoving no matter how many wishes they’ve spoken to it, shrinks and bends until it’s not a staff at all but a soft, beautiful fox, who runs up their arm and wraps around their neck. Raine lets out a delighted laugh as its tail tickles their nose, blinking back tears as they relax into a warmth they haven’t felt in decades.

“Hello, Fiddlesticks,” they whisper. “It’s nice to meet you.”

They look up to see Eda grinning, her expression conveying all the things she doesn’t have to say.

...

When they get home a few hours later, it’s to find Eber already asleep and Darius and Hunter in their pajamas, bent over a sweater patterned with pink, purple, and blue stripes. “I think I sewed the right sleeve higher than the left,” Hunter is saying.

Darius raises a finger, beginning to draw a glowing ring in the air. “That’s an easy fix—“

“No, wait! I want to show you how Camila does it. She has this thing called a seam ripper.” Hunter pulls a tiny but unnervingly sharp-looking hook from his pocket.

Raine smiles to themself. This is Hunter’s fourth night back on the Isles, and he’s been doing better each time. The first night, he didn’t sleep a wink, and Raine had to stay up with him teaching him how to play every instrument they had on hand to keep him from frantically pacing the house. The second night, they were able to get him to go to bed, and the third night, he actually slept all the way through. Looking at him now, he seems almost at ease.

Almost being the key word. He still jumps when he hears Raine’s footsteps, but immediately relaxes when he sees that it’s them. Then his eyes land on Fiddlesticks, and he jumps up, knocking the sweater to the floor.

“Your palisman! They’re awake!”

Raine grins. “Their name is Fiddlesticks.” They scratch underneath Fiddlestick’s chin, and the palisman nuzzles their finger before racing down their arm to curl around Hunter’s leg.

Hunter bends down to pet them, his smile equal parts delighted and sad. When he looks up at Raine, they open their arms and cock their head, a silent question. Hunter nods and steps into the embrace, hugging Raine tightly. Darius pats him awkwardly on the back.

After a few seconds, Hunter steps back. “Thanks,” he mutters, then clears his throat. “I’m glad they’re up and around. And it looks like the lopsided legs aren’t giving them too much trouble.”

“None at all,” Raine promises as Fiddlesticks runs back to them and returns to staff form.

“So I guess you finally figured out your wish.” Darius eyes Raine shrewdly. “It wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with all the talking we did about the election?”

“You already knew I wanted to run,” Raine realizes.

“I don’t know why you’re so surprised,” Darius groans. “Remember when you were so painfully and obviously in love with Eda, and she was so painfully and obviously in love with you, and you were the only person at Hexside who didn’t realize it? This is like that.”

Raine glances down to hide their blush. “Well, do you think it’s a good idea?”

“Don’t tell anyone I said this, but you are the only person considering candidacy who I could tolerate as a coworker. If you didn’t run, I would forge your paperwork and put it in for you.”

“That’s not… really the example we want to be setting.”

“Well, it’s not like anyone would ever know.”

Raine opens their mouth, debates the worthiness of replying, and turns to Hunter instead. “What about you? What do you think?”

They find themself tensing preemptively and realize that inexplicably, Hunter’s opinion might be the one that matters the most.

Hunter takes a long moment to consider, then says, “as long as you don’t break up with Eda.”

Darius snorts and Raine chokes, putting a fist to their mouth in an attempt to cover their coughing fit. “Okay?”

“I mean—“ Hunter runs his hands along his face and through his hair. “Like, if the relationship isn’t working, that’s fine, but… okay. I think you’d make a great leader. You have great ideas, and it’s clear you really care about making people’s lives better. But you can also be a little intense about it. You’re willing to sacrifice a lot if you believe it’s justified. And that’s not bad right away, but it can… become bad. Eventually.”

As usual, the thought of Belos seems to drop the temperature in the room.

“But I don’t think that will be a problem if you have someone you love to keep you in check. It seems like Eda might be good at that.”

Eda, who refused to give up on Raine no matter how many times they pushed her away. Eda, who was willing to turn herself in to the Emperor’s Coven if it would keep her kids safe. Eda, who doesn’t want to be a leader, because she’s better at the small picture. Better at protecting the people she knows, the people she loves. Like Raine.

They find themself smiling. “I don’t see myself ending things with her again any time soon.”

“And even if you do, you just have to keep letting people get close to you. It helps,” Hunter says, ducking his head.

Raine smiles at him. “You’re a wiser witch than any of us were at your age.”

“Thanks. It’s the trauma.”

“Hunter, I’m so sorry—“

“I know. We’ve been over this. Let’s just get you closer to making sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Raine turns to find Darius returning from a shelf by the door with a stack of papers as tall as his torso. “I brought them home just in case,” he explains. “Have at it.”

He drops them onto the table with a resounding stack, and now the papers are taller than Raine.

It’s going to be a long night.

#the owl house #toh #raine whispers #eda clawthorne #raeda #darius daemonne #toh hunter #toh steve #terra snapdragon #luz noceda #stepping stones #ray rambles #ray writes

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under-the-ladder · 1 year

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(Eurovision 2023 challenge)

Day 3: Most underrated entry of 2023

I needed to think for a while about what it means underrated to me, hence the break of the streak.

So the conclusion is that (to me, at least) underrated doesn't necessarily mean that an entry placed low, but more like I didn't see the community discuss or hype it much, generally great but overlooked.

Aaand that is what I think (despite the great final place) happened to Ukraine and Tvorchi this year.

Since they were chosen at Vidbir, there were cries about how Ukraine could've chosen better. Of course the most likely alternatives were both folk-ish, so the direction that Ukraine has been increasingly praised for taking. As for me I was just content with the choice and happy with the diversity. The staging, however, instantly caught my attention - I thought it was innovative and at the same time intimate, very fitting for the song, but also hard to sync the choreo with visuals - quite risky.

Before the Eurovision week I didn't see Tvorchi being talked much about. People had them rather low in their rankings, I forgot about them for a while too. In the odds, however, they were very high, like 3rd or something for a very long time. I don't really know about the interviews, rehearsals, etc. because I just didn't follow them extensively, but from what I was able to skim through I didn't see much coverage either.

I also woke up on this entry only like a week before the first semi while creating a tier list. Suddenly I realized that Heart of Steel had grown on me since the start of the season and while quietly always there, not appreciated much, it suddenly appeared really good compared to the competition (see: point 1 in reasons).

The ultimate thing that I believe brought them to the attention of the public was the Turquoise Carpet and the fundraiser for the equipment for prematurely born children. That is also about the time that the message of their song started to be discussed more I think.

Anyways, possible reasons for that?

Tvorchi were the first chosen act - they could not be compared to the rest at the time as there was no one to compare yet, probably hanging in this weird limbo for the rest of the season.

Perhaps subconscious application of the host country curse - if Ukraine won for the 2nd time this year, for instance as a result of a 2016 situation between Loreen and Käärijä it would be deemed too political by the vast majority of public opinion, even I think it would look kinda bad.

Not being a part of the big 5 rivalry, but simultaneously not having to compete in the semis, also rehearsals at a later date (basically host country curse pt. 2).

As mentioned before, I can only make guesses about the interviews, parties, etc. Andrii and Jeffery seem pretty chill, but also not the most outgoing ones, English proficiency might have also been an obstacle to promotion.

I don't know, maybe it's just me and my skewed perception or the journey that the entry has gone through in my own ranking but I'm just really glad that the wider public saw this entry and kinda "saved" it. If only the fandom would vote, I feel like they would finish much much lower.

Summing up, Ukraine broke the host country curse and if anyone was to do it, I think they were the right ones!

#ukraine #tvorchi #esc 2023 #eurovision 2023 challenge

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kazoosandfannypacks · 1 year

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"Wishing it Wasn't" by kazoosandfannypacks

Chapter 10/18: The Next Morning Pairing: CaptainSwan Rating: General Word Count: (1.3K/19.5K) Summary: Season 2 Canon Divergence: When Neal tells Emma he has a fiancée, she claims to have a new boyfriend of her own, and blurts out the first fairytale name she can think of: Captain Hook. Killian agrees to this ruse, but when feelings grow between the two, will the con be more than they can handle? Chapter Summary: Emma tries to avoid talking to her dad about he fake date. Killian finds out some information about Tamara's big secret. Emma returns Killian's jacket to him. Tags: season 2, canon divergence, gun violence in later chapters, angst with a happy ending, fake dating, mild character death, mildly anti neal Author's notes: none Taglist: @zahara @kmomof4 @jonesfandomfanatic @booksteaandtoomuchtv @jrob64 @tiganasummertree @anmylica @teamhook @undercaffinatednightmare @gingerchangeling @lonelyspectator @caught-in-the-filter @ultraluckycatnd @cs-rylie @pirateprincessofpizza @pawshapedheart [if you'd like to be added to or removed from this list, hmu in my dms or askbox!]

Also on Ao3!

Emma really didn't want to come into work that morning. There was nothing about sheriff's work that was particularly troubling for her, and it wasn't that the issues they were facing were all that disastrous. Emma just still didn't know what to say when her dad inevitably asked her how dinner went last night, and was thankful he'd left for work before she'd gotten up- at the very least, it delayed the inevitable conversation.

"Dinner went great." She rehearsed in her mind. "We all had a great time, the food was amazing, and I definitely didn't kiss a pirate. Tried fried Calamari for the first time. That was nice. There's also a slight chance I've fallen for him. Did Henry finish his homework okay?"

Emma walked into the sheriff's office to see David standing over his desk, but he turned around when he saw her.

"How's my favorite daughter doing this morning?" He asked.

"Your only daughter is doing just fine." Emma said.

David pulled a familiar pink cardboard box off the desk and held it out to her. "And does my only daughter want a donut?"

"You think I don't know a bribe when I see one?" Emma asked, helping herself to a bear claw anyways.

"Bribe?" David asked, feigning confusion. "Can't I treat my daughter without having ulterior motives?"

"So you're not just trying to soften me up so I'll talk about last night?"

"Maybe I am." David said, selecting a sour cream donut for himself.

Emma raised an eyebrow. "Dinner went well. The food was great, and we all had a great time."

David crossed his arms. "And Hook?"

She wasn't sure whether she was annoyed or delighted to hear his moniker.

"He played the role of a gentleman." Emma said. "Opened doors for me, covered the whole tab, didn't try anything funny."

David nodded. "I'm a little impressed."

"He did it all so I wouldn't put him back in jail." Emma flumped down into her chair. "If that's not incentive to be on your best behavior, I don't know what is."

"Alright." David said. He didn't respond, probably hoping she'd fill the silence- unaware that she and silence were old friends.

After a long pause, David piped in, just to tell her that if there's anything else she wanted to talk about, she could always come to him.

"Okay." Emma opened her computer and started checking the morning emails, hoping she'd managed to avoid any more of this conversation.

After a restless night's sleep and a breakfast of rum and whatever rations he could scrape together, Killian stepped out onto the dock, a chill rushing over him. He'd yet to get his "modern" jacket back from Emma, though he had switched out the fake hand for his hook again.

He'd been hoping he could sleep off his infatuation with Swan so he could focus on his vendetta against the Crocodile, but he'd awoken with her voice ringing through his mind, her face all he saw when he closed his eyes, almost still feeling her tucked under his arm.

He intended to stop by the mayor's office and plot with Cora and Regina, see what dirt they'd dug up on defeating the Crocodile, but his mind was clouded with thoughts of Emma: thoughts of his affection for her, of her evident disdain for him, of the apparent affection she still held for Neal, thoughts of how, if the choice came down to winning her affection or defeating an immortal nemesis who'd eluded him for centuries, the latter seemed more achievable.

So fogged was his brain that he almost didn't notice when someone quite literally ran into him.

"Oh gosh, I am so sorry." She said

"No, you're good- Tamara?" Killian quickly hid his hook behind his back, hoping she hadn't noticed.

"Killian?" She asked. "What brings you to this part of town?"

"The harbor." Killian said. "I like to come down to the docks to think. What are you doing here?"

"Training for a marathon." Tamara said, then changed the subject back. "I guess you've got a seafaring soul, huh."

"You could say that." Killian said.

"Funny." Tamara laughed.

"What?"

"Nothing, it's nothing."

"Really?"

"Well it's just," Tamara laughed. "I was reading that storybook that Henry has, and I just noticed that the illustration of Captain Hook happens to look a lot like you."

Captain Hook laughed nervously. "Really? What an amazing coincidence."

"I know; it's uncanny." Tamara laughed. "Especially because you're so well-traveled, financially well off, love the sea, and not to be coarse, but you're even missing the same hand. You'd make quite the pirate."

"Really?" He asked. "I'll have to keep that in mind."

"Of course," she said, "the Captain Hook in the storybook couldn't possibly be you. He didn't seem like the type to settle for love when his vengeance was just so close at hand- or should I say, at hook?"

"What do you know?" Killian asked.

"I know there's magic in this town." Tamara said. "I know that there shouldn't be magic in this realm. And I know you'll help my cause."

"That's ridiculous." Killian said, knowing that her suspicious amount of knowledge was dangerous, and looking for a way out. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I told Emma I'd meet with her…"

"I also know you two aren't really together." Tamara said.

Killian scrunched his brow, a bit thrown off by her awareness. "Why would you think that?"

"I have my resources." Tamara said. "And unlike someone watching you guys last night, I don't have feelings clouding my judgment."

"What about Neal?"

"My plans are bigger than him." Tamara said.

"And I'll have nothing to do with them." Killian said. "I don't know what delusions you're experiencing, but you really should see someone about them. I've heard there's a great doctor here in town; I'll see if he can schedule you in."

He turned and took a few steps.

"I don't know what's going on here." Killian thought. "But I've got to warn Emma. Whatever she's planning can't be good, and I've allies in this town."

"I thought you wanted to skin a crocodile."

Killian stopped and turned his head halfway back to see Tamara's shifty smile.

"That's what I thought." Tamara said. "You help us with our plan, and I promise- the crocodile won't be anyone's problem again."

This was exactly the opportunity Killian had waited for for the last few centuries.

He turned back to her, fist clenched, and asked, "What do you have in mind?"

Emma peeked in the door at Granny's on her lunch break. Killian leaned on the counter, and Neal sat at a table not too far away. She took a deep breath and walked in, Killian's jacket draped over her arm.

After the coldness and apathy he'd shown her last time she saw him, Emma was surprised to see Killian smiling at her- but then she remembered their ruse, that he was only pretending to be excited to see her. She didn't restrain any excitement from seeing him smile at her.

"Ah, Swan." Killian held out his arm as she entered.

"Killian." she smiled as he placed his arm around her.

"Hi, Emma." Neal said.

Emma turned around. "Oh hey, didn't see ya there."

"You come here for lunch often?" Neal asked.

"Best grilled cheese in Storybrooke." Emma said.

"Got in just in time." Ruby said from behind the counter, setting a bag down for her. "Still warm."

"Perfect, thanks." Emma said, taking the paper bag.

"Not sticking around?" Neal asked.

"Nah, I gotta get back to the Sheriff's department. Just thought I'd stick around long enough to grab my lunch- and return Killian's jacket." She handed it to Killian.

"Kept you warm all the way home?" Killian asked.

"And then some." Emma smirked, as if she hadn't actually left it in her car until two minutes ago, just so her family wouldn't ask questions.

He raised an eyebrow at her, and she raised one in return, then stopped a moment to stare into the eyes below them, losing herself for a moment before reminding herself that his affection was fake.

"Well, guess I'd better get back to work then." Emma said.

"See you soon, love." He said.

He gave her a kiss on the cheek, and she did the same for him, almost subconsciously.

"Not nearly soon enough." She winked at him as she walked away, and when she got back to the door, she looked back at him again and faked a smile.

When she got to her car though, she pressed her forehead against the steering wheel, frustrated by herself for falling for his charms, even when she knew they were fake.

#once upon a time fanficton #cs fanfic #captain swan #killian jones #emma swan #once upon a time #ouat #season 2 #canon divergence #kazzy writes

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brekker-by-brekkerr · 2 years

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live reaction 3x08 part 1

Starting off strong with some Jetwen and Caswen content okay

Oh no Big Red this is so awkward oh my stars

Ricky hasn’t even read the whole show?? What the heck?? Like, I’ve been trying to give him somewhat of a pass because even though he doesn’t have as much responsibility as EJ, he has some responsibility as the lead, but the fact that he hasn’t even read the show…like I get they only have two weeks to perform it but the least you could do is take the time to read the whole script. This just goes to show how little everyone is doing in comparison to EJ and once again this is not fair at all. Especially since EJ and Ricky are the same age now you can’t even say EJ “deserves” it because he’s older (which is also such a fricked up thing to say in the first place)

Having Emmy (I think that’s her name) sing the beginning of this is real…I have no investment in this child she’s barely been in this season lol. Okay I think it somewhat makes sense but still

Ahh everyone looks so good in their costumes

Oh this is the first time we’ve seen Jet in his costume. I wonder if we’ll get to hear him sing Hans of the Southern Isles. I hope so but like I also hope we get to hear Monster and Dangerous to Dream and so many other songs from the musical, at least clips of them. That’s the thing about having original songs and camp rock songs and high school musical songs in one season; we barely get any from each which is sad. But we’re getting Kristoff’s Lullaby!! I’m excited

“Your boyfriend is adorable” “So’s Madison” oh we all see what’s happening here oh my stars

The funny thing about Channing making them do things differently than how they rehearsed is that’s exactly what Miss Jenn did with Beauty and the Beast

“Elton!!” every time someone calls him Elton I’m living for it

“You sure?” Ricky shut the frick up EJ is the one making everything happen so you’re not allowed to have opinions sorry

Ricky and Jet fist bump stars I wish they could have been explored (I know it was ever going to happen before someone comes at me they’re just a dearly loved crackship okay)

Gina!! The way she’s looking at EJ with so much concern like my heart’s breaking

NINI!!! MY LOVE YOU’RE BACK!!!!!!!

I know Nini has to leave bc Olivia’s leaving but I hate it and it’s sad because it doesn’t really make sense since we already saw her leave then realise her home is with the Wildcats

She’s not going to be at the campfire and it’s going to hurt so much

I really appreciate the “these things don’t go away in a night” comment because in a lot of shows like this they would. They would sing a song or be like wow I was brave! And then their mental health is great when that’s not really how it works

I just wish we got similar attention paid to EJ and his anxiety. The fact that he’s directing the show tonight and we don’t get to see how he’s doing or have conversations with him

Is Big Red about to reveal he’s gay

I LOVE that Kourtney is getting this screen time and actual care given to her story and this anxiety plotline is being handled SO WELL I love this. Kourtney <333333

NOOO Big Red what’s going on I really thought he was about to say “at the pizza shop I met a boy” or something not that his parents met at their age

Ah that was kind of sweet this is sad

Her going in for a hug instead of a kiss. “I’ve never been better” when she means at camp without him is like Nancy saying she was glad Jon wasn’t there

KOURTNEY!! She looks AMAZING AND SHE SOUNDS SO GOOD THIS IS HER MOMENT. Her voice fits this song SO WELL chills

The wildcat fam smiling at her backstage because they’re all like heck yeah that’s our talented sister we love her. Like the growth from season 1 when she had to go onstage last minute to now she��s one of the leads and she’s killing it I love her I love this

Channing you’re funny but go away go away don’t do anything to Kourt’s performance

CHANNING

Kourtney I’m going to cry this is so good the confidence like anyone would be shook by that interruption and by having to sing without music but especially when you’re already fighting your anxiety…I’m so proud of her

Nini proudly watching from the wings same girl

THANK YOU Gina. “Don’t get me started” yes yes yes I love her

Okay Jet he’s really getting into it

THE TRANSFORMATION

Kourtney is an icon okay

Gina and Ash hugging because that’s their sister I love this so much

“If anyone sees Channing, punch him.” I love you Maddox

Ricky’s face when he said “Nini’s here” literally broke me I want to throw up. They have such a strong connection and I was worried the show would just forget that like even just as friends like we’re talking childhood besties who GAVE EACH OTHER THEIR NICKNAMES stop im crying

If we don’t get a ricky and nini goodbye I will RIOT

NINI AND KOURT!! NINI SETTING UP THE ROOM FOR HER SHE’S SO SWEET I LOVE HER

This better not be their last goodbye I am EMOTIONALLY UNSTABLE stop it

“We’re glad you came back” me as well

I love Ricky I love him getting pissed at Channing

The stage looks so pretty! KRISTOFF’S LULLABY I’M SO EXCITED AHH

EJ in the background looking depressed as all get out stop

PORTWELL LOOKING AT EACH OTHER ACROSS THE WINGS PLEASE STOP

I freaking love this song you don’t understand and JB is doing it so much justice it’s so good

EJ looking like he’s going to cry because Gina’s what he knows about love. stop it this is not allowed this should be illegal

Val is so pretty!!

He’s going to call his dad isn’t he

Thank you we’re getting someone supporting him and time spent on EJ thank you

My heart is breaking for EJ I fricking hate cash caswell

The break in his voice when he says “I’m proud of you EJ. How hard is that.” And Val’s encouraging nods I can’t I can’t I can’t

CASH CASWELL F*CKING HUNG UP ON HIM I HATE THIS MAN I HATE HIM I HATE HIM

EJ’s going to cry I’m going to cry

EJ has been through so much this season my heart hurts

THAT’S MY ANNA AND ELSA

The snow this moment is so pretty and magical

NO I knew she wouldn’t be there I’m going to cry

The fact that Ricky didn’t get a letter better mean she’s giving him a goodbye in person

NO WHY IS SHE LEAVING without even so much as a goodbye to Ricky

We’re talking best friends since they were babies why why can’t they at least get idk a fricking hug

#hsmtmts #hsmtmts spoilers #hsmtmts season 3 #hsmtmts 3 #high school musical the musical the series #high school musical the series #jetwen #portwell #nini salazar roberts #kourtney greene #ashlyn x maddox

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formeandmyfics · 1 year

Text

AGAIN

JUGENEA SNIPPET

While on location in Palm Springs filming ‘Girl, Crazy’ , Gene and Judy make a decision

Palm Springs

May 1943

Gene took off his baseball cap and wiped sweat off his forehead, his eyes squinting from the bright sun.

"Jesus, Johnson, it's hotter than Satan out here."

"Eghhh, quit your bitchin'," Van replied before hitting his golf ball off the tee with a hard, sharp swing.

"When I let you drag me out here, I didn't know it'd be a 120-fucking-degrees.”

"It's almost summer, in the middle of the desert, what the hell did ya expect?”

“When I came out here, I didn’t think I’d be on a golf course roasting like a Christmas ham.”

"What did you come to Palm Springs for anyways,” Johnson asked as they got back into the golf cart.

"To get away from the bullshit and lay by the pool and study my scripts in peace."

"You know, you're worse than Evie," Van said as he drove the cart down the hill to the turf.

"Look, bud, I’m glad I ran into you, but I came to relax. This is not relaxing to me. You get what I'm sayin'?"

"Loud and clear. But listen, you can relax tonight with some cold ones at Rooney's get together."

"What get together?"

"Mick's here filming and he's having a little get pow wow tonight at his cottage."

Gene's curiosity peaked, "What film?"

"Ah, that 'Girl, Crazy' one, the one he's doing with Judy. She's here, too."

Gene tried to hide his surprise. He had heard that they had gone on location to film but didn't know it would be here. Even though he had only seen her a few weeks ago, suddenly the sound of her name, and knowing she was here, gave him a kind-of anxious flutter in his stomach.

He had seen her around the studio, and nightclubs, but they hadn't spoken much, at least nothing concrete since they ended their tryst back in January. When they decided to call it quits, Judy had suffered physical exhaustion and taken time off from filming. Also, at this time, she and her husband were on the brink of calling it quits. He, on the other hand, was gaining more responsibilities at the studio now and had a new baby. Their lives suddenly became polar opposites. They both mutually decided to keep their friendship, but end their physical relationship, which had started during pre-production of 'My Gal'.

"Finish the rest of the holes with me, then you can go hop in the pool, and then I'll pick ya up at your hotel tonight around 8 and we can chill at Rooney's. What do you say?"

"I guess I have no choice," he sarcastically groaned before smiling.

"That'a boy," Van smiled back with a pat on the back.

Judy plopped down into her director’s chair, an umbrella over her head, and watched with irritation as all the camera men set up for a new angle. They were rehearsing their ‘Could You Use Me’ number. The scene was going so well, she was sure they could start filming it now, but then Norm wanted to try it with a different direction.

Sighing, Judy grabbed her heavy, Chinese fan and started fanning herself with gusto. Nothing was helping the heat.

“Any faster with that fan, there, honey, and you’ll be able to start a fire,” Mickey said walking up next to her.

“I feel like I’m sitting in one. I swear they’re gonna send me back to Metro looking like burnt chicken.”

“Juicy on the inside though,” he teased with raised eyebrows.

When Judy just gave him a raised eyebrow as she stopped fanning herself to take a drink of water, he whistled with his eyes wide. Usually, she responded gleefully to cheeky comments like that.

“You know, for as hot as it is, boy you’re blowing cold.”

“I’m sorry, Mick, I’m just not in a good mood. I love Norm but now is not the time to try improve camera angles.”

“Would you rather Buzz be here?”

Judy nodded, as ‘Uncle Buzz’ had worked them so hard she had collapsed on set during beginning of filming, “You have a point.”

“Yeah, by this time we’d both be dead.”

“At least you’re wearing shorts,” Mickey exclaimed looking down at his long pants.

“At least you’re shirtless,” she teased back as he was indeed topless.

“You can be, too,” he teased back.

“Stop it,” she giggled.

“There’s a big fan up by the camera wagon. Go stand over there for a little, darlin.”

“I suppose. It’s better than this shade, anyways.”

“I’m going to get lemonade. Do you want anything?”

“No, I’m ok. Thank you.”

As Judy walked away, Mickey walked down a way to the refreshment tent. The lady working there poured him a glass of lemonade topped with ice.

Gene leaned towards Mickey from behind and said in his best John Wayne accent, “What, no vodka in that, partner?”

Mickey turned to see Gene standing there, “Say, what on earth are you doing here, old boy?”

The two gleefully shook hands.

“I just came to town for a few days to relax, you know, away from ‘star life’,” Gene teased with his hands.

“After how successful you’ve been so far, there’s going to be way more of that for you.”

“Oh, thanks.”

“It’s lucky they let you have time off. That’s rare.”

“I just finished post-production for ‘DuBarry’. I’m back to work Monday.”

“Nice four-day weekend. Is the Mrs. With you?”

“Her mother is in town to see the baby. I’m letting them have their girl time.”

“Good for you.”

“I had no idea you guys were filming here. Van told me earlier.”

“Yeah. And they couldn’t do it in San Diego or Pasadena, could they? They had to pick the desert.”

“Hot. I can’t imagine what it’s like filming in this. I was out playing golf this morning and I was complaining so much Johnson called me a chick.”

Mick laughed, “Should’ve called you Judy. That’s all she’s been doing so far.”

“Oh, the starlet's in a bad mood?”

“I’ll say, but maybe you being here will cheer her up some.”

“I’m no better in a good mood than she is, so we’ll see.”

“She certainly laughs more with you than she does with me lately. I think I’m getting a little rusty. I’ll go get her. Find a seat.”

“Aye, Yi, Captain.”

Judy put her hand up over her eyes, squinting to see the other camera’s process, as she stood by the large camera wagon with the fan blowing on her.

“How much longer,” she asked one of the stagehands standing behind her.

“They’re nearly finished, Miss Garland.”

“How we doing over here,” Mickey asked walking up next to her.

“Still hot.”

“Still grumpy?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, maybe I know something that will get you un-grumpy,” he said in a baby voice while taking her chin in his hand as if patronizing her.

“An air-conditioned cabin,” she playfully remarked with a smile.

“No, but we have a surprise visitor.”

“Who,” she asked looking around.

“Gene Kelly,” Mickey quipped happily and pointed to where Gene now sat in Judy’s director chair under the umbrella across the way.

Her mouth opened a tad looking completely shell shocked as she placed her hand on the bar next to her and the other on her hip. She then mumbled to herself, “How on earth did he find us here?”

Suddenly, the two turned their attention to the set when the cameramen all made some loud commotion.

Mickey placed his hands on his hips, “Looks like we’re starting soon, babe. Why don’t you go say hi and then let's put on a great rehearsal performance for him.”

Gene readjusted the umbrella to his liking when he noticed a shadow walk up next to him. Before he could respond, or see who it was, the umbrella was lifted a bit as Judy peeked underneath.

“That’s my chair.”

Hearing her voice, Gene immediately smiled and sat back comfortably, showing her he had no intention of getting up.

“It’s quite comfortable.”

“Mm hm. May I sit, please,” she said sweetly.

Gene tapped his upper legs but she giggled and swatted her hand. He chuckled and stood up so she could sit.

“Mickey tells me you’re in quite a mood.”

“Mickey tells me that you’ll make me un-grumpy,” she replied impishly.

“Judy!”

Judy turned to see Norm waving her over. She had so many questions for Gene rolling through her mind, but she knew she didn’t have time to talk to him.

“I’m sorry, but we’re about to rehearse a number.”

“It’s alright. Heard you were in town and wanted to stop by the set.”

“Judy, sweetheart,” Norm’s voice yelled more insistent.

She gave him a ‘1 minute’ finger gesture before turning back to Gene, “Will you stay and watch?”

“I would love to. Would you like me to?”

Judy smiled and nodded, “I would like that very much.”

“Fun scene at least?”

“It’s very fun, just too many changes. I’ll see ya in a bit,” she said before she turned to walk to where the car prop was with Mickey already sitting inside of it.

Judy and Mickey rehearsed their ‘Could You Use Me’ number and both gave it their all. In fact, Judy felt positively giddy knowing Gene was watching. She knew she wasn’t showing off, she just genuinely felt good knowing he was there. It had been a while. After getting through a few rehearsals, the set took a break so they could get in costume and film. Judy noticed Gene waving her down to get her attention. When he did, he pointed behind him and waved goodbye. Judy was so flabbergasted about him leaving like that she just held her arms out as if saying ‘what the heck’ but he ignored it and left the area, disappearing behind rows of trucks and trailers.

B.J. Baker was laughing as she walked over to the mini bar where Judy sat on one of the stools. She was nursing her apricot sour as she stared out the window looking a tad bored.

“What’s the matter, doll,” B.J. asked as she grabbed the vodka bottle to make another cocktail.

“Nothing,” Judy said sounding chipper as she turned to face her, putting on a happy smile.

“Could have fooled me,” B.J. said glancing up at her with a mischievous smile.

“She’s upset with Gene,” Mickey said stepping in between the girls.

“Gene who?”

“Kelly.”

“Gene Ke--” B.J. looked a little surprised, “Aren’t you two friends? He’s such a sweetie pie.”

“A sweetie pie, huh,” Judy asked as she took a sip of her drink practically rolling her eyes.

“She’s been like that all day,” Mick said leaning into his future wife.

“Why are you angry with him?”

“I’m not angry,” Judy stated in defense.

Mickey let out a smiled snort, but when he caught Judy’s evil ‘sister-like’ glare, his smile immediately dropped, “Sorry.”

B.J. smiled and gave Mickey a quick peck on the lips, “Don’t tease her. She’s having a bad day.”

“Hey, toots,” Mickey said draping his arm over Judy’s shoulders, “At least you’re in air conditioning now.”

“This is true.”

B.J. took a sip of her fresh vodka tonic turning to look back at the small gathering and her eyes widened a little before she turned back towards Judy, “So, does Gene know you’re mad at him?”

“I’m not mad at him,” Judy repeated, “And...even if I were, he’d have to stay around long enough for me to tell him, wouldn’t he?”

“Well, now’s your chance, baby.”

Hearing a little commotion from the front door, all three looked and saw Gene walk in with Van Johnson.

Judy immediately flicked the back of her hand on Mickey’s arm, “Did you invite him?”

“No, I didn’t know he was coming. But, good, more the merrier.”

“Let’s go say hi,” B.J. said grabbing Mickey’s hand.

“You two better go do that before he disappears. Lately, it seems like he comes and goes like Houdini.”

Judy grabbed her drink and headed for the sliding door to the pool area.

“No air conditioning out there,” Mickey teased after her.

When the sliding door shut, BJ fanned herself, “Oo, I’ve never seen her like this before.”

“Well, life’s got in the way of their friendship. She told me not long ago that she missed him. Then today he just randomly showed up on our set, but then when we were working, he just left without a word.”

“I wonder what happened.”

“He left her grumpier than she was before he got there,” Mickey said as they walked up towards the boys.

After small talk with some people and grabbing a beer, Gene was starting to get nervous, and felt extremely disappointed when he hadn’t seen Judy around. He hadn’t even heard her laugh which you could hear distinctively from another room.

Gene walked around a bit again, in case he missed her, and walked into the back kitchen. There Mickey and B.J. were grabbing some snacks.

“Mick.”

“Yeah?”

“Say, is Judy here?”

Mickey and B.J. both shared a sly glance which Gene noticed.

“Yeah, she’s around here somewhere.”

“Oh, good. I want to talk to her.”

“About your Houdini act?”

“My what?”

“That’s what she’s calling it,” B.J. giggled.

“Judy’s calling you Houdini...you know, popping up out of nowhere then disappearing.”

Gene closed his eyes and sighed, “Which means she’s pissed.”

“She specifically told us she is not angry,” she said confidently.

Mickey bit a piece of his carrot, “She’s pissed.”

B.J. playfully hit Mickey’s chest.

“Great,” Gene said his arms falling to his sides, “Where is she?”

“She might still be out by the pool.”

“Take this door and the porch wraps around to the back by the pool, honey,” B.J. motioned with her hand.

“Thanks.”

Gene stopped abruptly when he turned the corner of the porch. The view took him back a moment. Judy was sitting down on the edge of the in-ground pool, her back to him, and she had her legs in the lit-up water. The full moon bounced off her strawberry blonde hair and the muggy air made it look as if she had an aura-type glow around her. The scenic view in front of them were mountains and houses on the hills lit up like stars all around.

“You’ve sure created a habit of showing up to places unexpectedly.”

Gene made a face, not knowing how in the hell she knew he was standing back there, when she hadn’t turned around.

“You mean in Palm Springs, on set earlier, or here at this party?”

She turned to look at him, lurking in the shadow of the porch, “Pick.”

He smiled and walked over to her.

“I’m beginning to think you’re following me,” she teased but her tone was anything but playful.

“I wish I could say that’s true, sweetheart, but I didn’t know you were out here filming,” he said taking a seat on one of the cushioned lounge chairs.

“Did you know I’d be here at this party?”

“I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

Judy couldn’t help but smile at that truth as she pushed herself up off the ground, “May I sit?”

“Are you going to bite my head off if you do?”

“Why would I bite your head off,” she motioned for the towel that was on the arm rest next to him.

He went to hand it to her but withdrew on second thought, “Because you’re angry with me.”

“Oh, nonsense,” she said sitting down on the side of the chair, “Why would I be angry with you?”

Gene lifted one of her bare legs, in her cute, little white shorts, and started drying them off gently, “My so-called Houdini act.”

When he didn’t hear a response, he looked up at her with a cautious eyebrow. She let him dry the second leg off, but she looked irritated, “Well, you didn’t have to come and go like that. We barely said two words.”

“You were working, baby,” he said in a matter-of-fact voice.

“You could have stayed, *darling*,” she emphasized and took her now dry leg away from his hand.

“I was planning on it, but I remembered I had a conference call with the Freed unit. I barely made it back in time. I knew I was going to see you later tonight, so I didn’t think anything of it. I waved goodbye.”

“But I didn’t know you were coming tonight. That’s not fair.”

“Why are you being so defensive? I came and watched you work and we’re here together now. What is the problem,” he said getting a little impatient.

Judy looked at his eyes back and forth before her shoulders relaxed and she looked away from him, “It doesn’t matter.”

“Judy,” he took her chin to have her look at him gently.

She bounced her leg a little, in an anxious manner, while staring at him almost like getting up the courage.

“I just missed you, you know,” she said in a whisper.

“I missed you, too,” he softly said back and reached forward to kiss her on the cheek.

“You know how things have been for me and when you showed up out of nowhere, I felt...just better. And then you left so quickly. It just upset me. I’m sorry.”

“No, honey, I’m sorry. I didn’t know it would affect you like that.”

Judy sighed and smiled, “You’re here now.”

“I’m right here,” he reiterated.

They both smiled, but his wide smile, with his prominent crow’s feet and tan skin glowing in the moonlight, made her nearly blush. With him, she never concealed that.

“Golly, you’re so handsome, you know that?”

“I’m surprised you think so,” he said looking at his arm.

She looked at him shocked, “What? Why would you say that?”

“No, I don’t mean that,” he quickly retracted, in reference to them being lovers so she obviously was attracted to him, “I meant, looking like a lobster.”

“A what,” she giggled.

“Van had me out golfing with him today. I thought I was gonna get sun poisoning.”’

“You don’t look like you’ve got sunburn,” she said pressing her fingertips against the skin of his forearm.

“No, but you’ve got a little color to your cheeks,” he said rubbing a knuckle over the rosy skin.

“That’s not from the sun, pal,” she said this time plenty of playful in her voice.

“Ohhh, she flirts,” he said amused and pulled her arm to him.

Still on the same lounge chair, he let her lay back against his chest, and they cuddled comfortably.

“What are you doing in Palm Springs?”

“Relaxing.”

“You’re doing an awful lot of that now.”

“Mm, hm. I had a break from work and wanted to get away by myself, but not too far away. I was really surprised to find out you guys were here.”

“To get away from Los Angeles and then you run into a movie set and a bunch of co-workers.”

“Exactly,” he chucked, “But it was a nice surprise. I’ve been thinking a lot about you lately.”

“You have?”

“Worried, actually, you know, with what you’ve been through the past few months with work and...Dave...”

“I’m alright.”

“Are you really?”

“Buzz is no longer on this film, and I’ve moved into my own place. I’m feeling better.”

“Good,” he said, and she noticed his hold got a little tighter, more protective-like, “How’s it like living on your own?”

“It’s an adjustment, but it’s not entirely different than where I was with my husband gone touring all the time.”

“There were always people in and out there, though.”

“Yes. I’m way up in the hills now. No one comes by unless I invite them. Well, of course there’s mother, who shows up whenever she wants.”

“A visit from her is better than having to live with her.”

“Oh, golly, yes. Maybe you can come see my place sometime. It’s really a beautiful, little house up there.”

“I’m one of your invites, huh?”

There was a pause for a moment, then Gene felt her nails circle the hair on his arm, “You’re always invited.”

Suddenly the air felt thicker.

Gene was disappointed that she wasn’t facing him because he had the strongest urge to kiss her. He wanted to kiss her until she whimpered, a sound he missed. It was one of the guilty pleasures that went through his head from time-to-time. On the other hand, he was relieved that she wasn’t facing him because he knew that kissing her was wrong.

Wasn’t it?

He had agreed to their ‘platonic’ friendship after all. He had his marriage to get back on track. Of course, kissing her wasn’t anything new. Maybe he could simmer down his urge by kissing her a little bit. Oh, who was he kidding. Kissing would most definitely lead to other things. And she was single now. Would she want more from him than just sex? He knew she must be vulnerable. He didn’t want to lead her on. He wasn’t in denial of his feelings for her, but he couldn’t give her more than what they had shared before: a meaningful friendship and fun sex. God, he missed that.

Gene sighed audibly. He still loved his wife and he had a kid now. He didn’t want to jump into hot water with Betsy or down the very deep rabbit hole with Miss Garland.

“What are you thinking about?”

Gene flinched slightly as Judy’s voice brought him out of his head. He didn’t even realize that she had sat up out of his arms and was looking at him now.

Gene scratched his cheek, which didn’t itch, as a distraction, to look away from her big, searching eyes, “Stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

Her voice told him that she knew exactly what stuff he was thinking about but wanted him to say it.

“Nothing for you to worry about,” he said sitting up, swinging his legs over the side of the lounge chair.

“But if you were thinking about me, I think I have the right to worry about it.”

He looked at her, the vein in his temple flexing from his jaw working overtime. She could see that he had a lot to say but was almost afraid to.

“Am I right,” she insisted softly with an innocent voice, yet her eyes were seductive, “Were you thinking about me?”

He ignored her question as he stood up and reached into his pocket for his carton of cigarettes.

“Hm,” she asked standing up with him.

Gene placed one between his lips, “I’m always thinking about you, Judy,” he said matter-of-factly.

“You’re changing the subject.”

“Do you have a light,” he asked.

“I don’t. Are you going to answer me?”

Gene took the cigarette out of his mouth and his voice got a little irritible, “What do you want me to say, Judy?”

“Gene, Judy baby!”

The pair both looked towards the corner of the balcony and saw Mick standing there in the dark, “Come inside. Bob’s made us all shots.”

“No, Mickey, I can't,” Judy said with her hand on her tummy shaking her head.

“Just one,” he insisted, “It’s that SoCo shooter. Just one, come on,” he repeated before disappearing back around the corner.

“Just one,” Judy said rolling her eyes.

Gene smiled and urged her to go ahead.

The two went through the balcony doors into the house and stepped up to the mini bar where everyone was crowded around passing the shots around.

“Here ya go, honey,” Van said noticing them and handed Judy one then one to Gene, “Gene.”

“Thanks,” he said, and he did a double take as he smelled it, “What is this?”

“Amaretto and Southern Comfort,” she replied.

“Alright, folks,” Bob said over the chatter which immediately died down, “Raise your shots! Here’s to...lots of wealth and good health, lots of checks and good sex!”

They all cheered and took the shot. Gene’s eyes had met Judy’s at the last statement. He didn’t meant to, but like a magnet, their eyes just met. Hers burned through his and her little smirk spoke a thousand words. Without his eyes leaving hers, he took the shot. Nonchalantly, and a little naughty, she poured the content of the shot into the potted plant behind her.

“It’s not nice to waste good liquor,” he said quietly towards her.

“It’s also not nice to work the next day with a hangover,” she said taking his empty shot glass from him and placing it on the bar.

“Touche.”

“Darling,” she said sliding his arm through his as they started walking across the room in their own little world.

“Darling,” he mimicked.

“Do you ever think we’ll work together again?”

“I do.”

“Really?”

“I certainly hope so. You’re one of the most talented people I ever met. Plus, working with you on screen is easy.”

“That’s chemistry.”

“And timing.”

“And trust.”

“Respect.”

“Patience.”

“Fun.”

She let go of his arm as they found themselves in an empty den just off the living room where everyone was still gathered.

“It’s rare to have all of those things not just on screen, but off screen as well.”

“Yes,” he simply said and watched as she looked around the small den and noticed a door in the corner.

“The cabin I’m in is identical, but it doesn’t have a door like this,” she said and walked through the sliding door which led to what looked like a secret, little hallway leading to an outside door.

Gene followed her and shut the door behind them. It was dark except for light coming from the porch.

“Do you think we still have all those things?”

She leaned against the wall and he leaned back on the opposite wall, his hands in his pockets.

“You know I do.”

Just the sounds of the crickets were heard outside as they fell silent. He could see the side of her face illuminated as she looked away from him. Even in the dark, she looked beautiful.

“Isn’t it funny that we both ended up here in Palm Springs?”

“Coincidence.”

“I don’t really like that word.”

“Serendipity,” he corrected.

“Will you tell me what you were thinking earlier?”

“Judy.”

“Please. I want to know.”

“Why do you want to know so badly?”

“Why is it bothering you so badly?”

“Because if I say it out loud, then it’s not just in my head. It becomes reality and I’ll have to follow through with it and I don’t know if I can do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re going through a divorce and physically recovering, and I don’t want to get you all mixed up.”

“Mixed up how?”

“Mixed up with how we feel about each other and what you might expect from me and what I cannot give you.”

Judy kind of smiled, “Will you let me decide that, please?” Her voice was so calm and determined, he immediately relaxed. “What do you think I expect that you can’t give me?”

“A real relationship. I know you want a happy marriage and a family and security. You deserve all that, but I can’t give that to you.”

Judy immediately stepped up to him and hugged him around the waist, placing her cheek on his chest, “I love you, you know that.”

“I love you, too, kiddo,” he said back and kissed the top of her head.

“I love how much you want to protect me,” she lifted her head to look up at him, “And you’re right, I do want all that, but I would never ask you to leave your family.”

“What *are* you asking,” he said, sweeping some hair behind her ear.

“I’m asking you to tell me what you were thinking about earlier.”

He smiled, “I was thinking about kissing you and what that might lead to and what that would mean.”

“Well,” she said backing off of him and leaning back on her opposite side of the wall, “It would mean that we were just two friends who were already comfortable together in that way, with no strings attached, who would have a good time doing things we both miss and still think about.”

Gene felt himself start to get aroused knowing they were going to do exactly what he had thought about. His stare at her was alluring and sexy, his eyes reflecting off the light from the porch. It made Judy have butterflies in her tummy...good ones...very good ones.

“Would you like to kiss me now?”

Her voice was innocent, but her expression mirrored his. He found it beautifully amusing.

Gene took a step towards her, “I’d like to do a lot more than just kiss you.”

Still, he hesitated. Judy reached forward and grabbed his shirt gently bringing him up against her. Gene exhaled through his nose as he lifted his hand flat against the wall above her head, staring down at her.

“Please,” she whispered, sliding one hand to the back of his neck while the other slid around his waist.

Gene leaned forward and barely kissed her before whispering, “We’re doing this again, aren’t we?”

Judy gave a nod before his mouth fully closed in on hers.

#jugenea #jugenea fanfiction

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