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wefoundloveunderthelight · 3 years

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The Love Cruise - by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Read on AO3: Chapter 1

Or on FF

Tagging: @kmomof4 @lfh1226-linda @teamhook

Summary:

When Emma Swan’s boss & co-workers decided they are tired of waiting for her to start dating again, they reluctantly convince her to join them on The Love Cruise, a new experience where singles go to meet and flirt their cares away in the middle of the ocean. Dragging her brother, David along for the ride, she embarked on a two-week adventure that was about to change her life.

Killian Jones, former Navy Lieutenant and widower, swore off dating for the rest of his life. Which is why when his best friend Robin convinced him to take a job as the Captain of the newest ship in the fleet, a floating dating cesspool of horny men and women, it seemed a cruel twist of fate. Little did he know, one of the guests about to board his ship, would alter his own course in life forever.

Chapter 1: The Adventure of a Lifetime

“First he runs off and gets married and then he goes and gets himself a promotion. I guess you would say the world is his oyster.”

“Or he’s having his cake and eating it to.” The man at the back of the bar shouts.

“Aye, so today as we celebrate, I want everyone to raise your glass to our newest Lieutenant, and my little brother, Killian Jones. I’m so proud of you.”

“To Killian Jones.” The crowd roared.

5 years later

“That’s not how I remember it at all, I’m pretty sure you were the one who walked in on them.”

“I would have remembered that.”

“I doubt that, you were drunk as a skunk and before you left the room, you yelled to the poor girl, and I quote, I'm no weatherman but I know you're going to get 3 inches tonight.”

“God, I thought you said that.”

“That was all you man, I thought the Captain was gonna throw you in the brig.”

“I’m pretty sure Liam saved my ass that night.” Killian laughed, remembering how many times his brother kept him out of trouble in his years in the Navy.

“I think Liam saved your ass most nights.”

“Aye.” He nodded sadly and Robin held up his glass.

“To Liam, gone too soon.”

“To Liam.” He swallowed the warm liquid, gulping it down and putting his glass back on the table in front of him. “I can’t believe it’s been two years.” He added solemnly, memories of his brother’s urn as he was released out to sea, being presented with the flag, the sound of each pop of the as the rifles went off, staring out to sea to the sound of the bugle.

“Sometimes it feels like yesterday.” Robin responded and Killian closed his eyes, pinched his nose, before shaking off the memories and waiving the waitress over for another order. “So, what’s your next move?”

Killian sighed. “I don’t know yet, I’ve got a few interviews this week.”

Robin cut him off, “Cancel them.”

“I’m sorry, you want me to cancel all my interviews?”

“Yes, cancel them, I have a great opportunity for both of us.”

“Working together?”

“Yes, I told you that I got a job last week, right? Well, they need a Captain and I put in a good word for you.” Killian knew he had gotten some amazing opportunity the last time they spoke on the phone, but he didn’t provide many details on what exactly that opportunity was.

“What’s the catch?” Killian regarded him suspiciously.

“Why does there have to be a catch?” He smiled innocently.

“Because you would have told me about it sooner unless you’ve been trying to figure out the best way to bring it up. And you conveniently chose a night when we have been drinking heavily, so that tells me there is a catch, Rob. So, spit it out.”

“Ok, so there’s a catch, but hear me out first.” Killian groaned but put his hand to his lips with a locking motion and gestured for him to continue. “She’s the newest ship in the fleet, top of the line technology, she would be any Captain’s wet dream to sail.” Killian chuckled, sitting up on his stool. “3600 passengers, 1300 crew members, including the best purser any ship could ask for.” He grinned widely pointing to himself.

“Get to the part where you tell me this ship sails to the Underworld and has an excursion to visit Hades himself or some other ungodly reason to explain why you waited til I was piss drunk to ask me.”

“Ok, but I haven’t even told you about the size of the Captain’s quarters yet…” Robin frowned as he shifted impatiently in his seat. “Alright, it’s the maiden voyage of…” He covered his mouth, “The wurv ruse.”

“I’m sorry what?”

“Fine, it’s a Love Cruise.” He shouted louder than he meant to. “One of those singles cruises where people go to meet each other.”

He tossed a brochure down onto the table and Killian flipped through it, his groan vibrating as he read the tag line out loud. “The Love Cruise, where singles meet on the adventure of a lifetime. Don’t you deserve a little TLC.” He tossed the brochure onto the table. “Oh, bloody hell.” He cursed. “Ma’am…” He gestured for the waitress. “I’m not fucking drunk enough to listen to this man anymore, if you could please bring a few more of those shots as quick as possible and make them doubles.” He added before turning back to Robin. “Are you out of your mind? What would give you the foggiest reason to think I would be interested in this?”

“It’s not like you would be signing up to be part of the singles cruise, you would just Captain her.”

“Why are you doing this?” He asked suspiciously. “You and Marian have been divorced for years and it’s not like you’re desperate for women.” His friend glanced to the table and Killian knew there was more he wasn’t telling him. “Out with it.”

“You know that woman I met last year?”

Killian chuckled, “How long do I have to answer, mate. You’re going to have to be more specific than that?”

“You’re hilarious. No, remember that entertainer I met when we took that cruise to Mexico last year, Regina Mills.”

“The lass we met who threw her drink in your face and told you to get lost? How can I forget, she’s given me months of pleasure just thinking about that moment.”

“Anyway, they hired her as the Cruise Director for this sailing, and it’s my opportunity to actually get to know her. You know because she won’t have anywhere else to go to continue avoiding me.”

“So, your selling point is that if I Captain this ship, I might get to see this woman destroy you on a daily basis?”

“Would it convince you to say yes?”

“I don’t know.”

“Killian it’s been three years. If you want to be celibate for the rest of your life, that’s your business, but you’d be an idiot to pass up this opportunity.” He pulled a piece of paper out of his jacket and slid it across the table. On it was a six-figure dollar amount, Killian grabbed the paper and pulled it closer to his face.

“How many years is the contract for this amount?”

“That’s per year, Killian.”

“Bloody hell.”

“It’s a lot more than the Navy paid us, and no one is going to be trying to sink our ship.”

He pushed the paper back across the table to Robin. “I just don’t know if this is a good idea, I have responsibilities here.”

“Brother, Milah wouldn’t want you hiding out on that damn houseboat, rotting away in your own depression. She’d kick you in the ass and tell you that you were being a bloody prat for walking away from this kind of opportunity.”

“Don’t invoke my dead wife, Mate.” He said angrily. Robin raised his hands in defeat and Killian knew he meant no harm. He sighed and looked over at the paper again. It was more money than he had seen in his entire life, and it was a real ship. He’d been working as Skipper on a fishing skiff for the last year, and while he enjoyed the security of being out on the water, it sure didn’t pay much.

“You know there’s no rule that says the Captain has to date the passengers, in fact, I’m pretty sure they frown on that type of behavior?”

“I get that, but I don’t particularly want to watch all the debauchery either.”

“I told you the Captain’s quarters are huge, right?”

“And they know about my hand?” He looked down at his scarred hand, he had lost the full use of it on one of the worst nights of his life, the night he lost his brother.

“They don’t care, you are a skilled Captain, trust me, they are very interested in you, Killian. All you have to do is be at the interview tomorrow, and the job is yours.”

Killian groaned, “I’ll sleep on it.” Judging by the smile his friend was displaying on the other end of the table, he already knew that Killian was going to show up to that interview.

~*~

“Have you seen that guy before?” Ruby walked over to Emma’s spot by the front door.

Emma glanced to the end of the bar. She hadn’t noticed the man until Ruby pointed him out. He wasn’t familiar to her, he was very nice looking, but also very intoxicated. “Don’t recognize him, but Will needs to cut him off.”

“That’s what you’re focused on, instead of how hot he is or the fact he’s new in town?”

“He’s ok, I guess. But honestly, I’m going to go tell Will to stop serving him. I don’t want to have to throw him out later.”

“Boo, you’re so boring, Emma.”

Emma turned and flashed her friend the middle finger before approaching the bar. “Hey, brown suede jacket.” She pointed to the man at the end of the bar. “How many has he had?”

“Oi, I was thinking of cutting him off. He’s been nursing that beer for an hour, but the three shots he drank with them seem to have accelerated his inebriation.”

“Yeah, cut him off, he’s swaying in his seat, let me know if he gives you any trouble.”

Emma walked back toward the door, surveying the tables as she walked past. She’d been working at The Wooden Nickle since moving back to Boston from New York almost seven years ago. Working nights as a bouncer wasn’t the most prestigious job in the world, but it allowed her to spend her days with her 6-year-old son, Henry.

“Everything good down here?”

Emma turned to see her boss; August Booth walking down the stairs from the above office. “Yeah, got a live one at the bar, Will’s already cut him off. I had to break up the two over at the pool table a few times.” She gestured to the man and woman currently making out against the wall. “I’m gonna head back there in a minute, before they start losing clothes.”

“I can always count on you, Emma.” August gave her a light tap on the shoulder and then headed back upstairs. “Tell everyone I want to talk to them before we shut down tonight.”

“Everything alright, boss?” He nodded with a mischievous smile and then bounded up the stairs.

She loved working for August. When she moved back to Boston, she hadn’t maintained a relationship with anyone except her brother, David, and her high school friends, Ruby and Will. Moving to a small town meant her skills as a bail bond agent wasn’t exactly needed, but August found room for her as a bouncer at his tiny but very busy bar. He’d treated her like family ever since.

She passed through the room, pausing at the couple in the back, to break up their make out session and then stopped at the bar. “Aug wants to talk to all of us after we close up.”

“Oi, did he seem upset? Shit, I bet he knows I was nipping at the whiskey last week.”

“What are we talking about?” Ruby approached and sat down her tray on the bar top. “Are we drinking whiskey?”

Emma laughed. “Aug wants to talk to all of us tonight, so I would probably say no, right?”

“That was a question, not a demand, so I say one shot can’t hurt us. If we’re all about to be canned, I want to take the news with some liquid courage.”

“You’ll use any excuse to drink whiskey.” Ruby mocked as he lined up the shots and poured. They each tossed back the glass and slammed it down on the bar.

“Ok get back to work.” She demanded with a smirk and headed back to the door to prepare for the close of shift. It was her favorite part of work, watching as the patrons exited the bar, some joyfully laughing, others grumbling with complaints of the upcoming next day, but mostly it was the time when they were alone, simply cleaning the bar and laughing together that she cherished the most. This was her family, and she loved them dearly.

“All clear.” She hollered an hour later as she finished helping the tipsy customer to a cab and reminded the overly zealous couple to remember condoms.

Ruby turned up the volume on the music and they spent the next hour cleaning the bar, Ruby dancing with her broomstick, Will singing loudly into the beer tap, and Emma watching them all with a smile as she wiped down the tables. She could hardly believe how much her life had changed in the last seven years. Ruby referred to these last few years as the years AN.

After Neal.

She had been devastated when Neal took off, draining their savings account of the money she had earned, leaving her alone and pregnant in New York City. Two months later, she came home with her tail between her legs, everything she owned in her tiny yellow beetle, and was left to explain to her brother David, that things with her and Neal had gone exactly how he had predicted they would.

She had been mortified to venture out of the home she shared with David for fear of judgement from their small town. Instead, she was embraced by old friends who came out of the woodwork to donate baby clothes, feed her, and offer emotional support.

“When did I start paying you lot to have a good time?” August boomed from across the room before breaking out into a smile and pulling Emma into his arms to dance across the room. He spun her around as they reached Ruby, switching to dance with the brunette until the song ended.

“The place looks great as usual.” He remarked to the three of them as he hopped onto one of the bar stools. “Come on, lets all chat.” Will gulped and August laughed. “This isn’t about the whiskey, Will.”

“What whiskey?” Will mimed. “I haven’t the foggiest idea…”

“I’m closing the bar.” Emma’s heart dropped. August sat solemnly looking down at his hands. He looked up peering around the room as a smile grew on his mouth. “For two weeks,” he added, “and before you all freak out on me, I’m still paying you.”

Emma breathed out a sigh of relief. Losing two weeks of pay would have killed her. She lived paycheck to paycheck trying to raise her son, missing a single day was enough to give her anxiety.

“On one condition.” He added and everyone in the group exchanged cautious glances. “We’ve all been working really hard and I wouldn’t have any of this if you all didn’t come to work every single day, even with William drinking my whiskey.” Will ducked his head. “However as much as I love you guys, I’m really tired of being alone.”

Emma was surprised to hear how sad August’s voice sounded; she knew he had been alone at home after his father Marco had passed. Emma had never heard of August going on any dates, or ever being involved with anyone romantically. But Emma wasn’t one to talk about putting yourself out there, she hadn’t dated or wanted to date anyone since Neal ran out on her.

“And let’s be honest,” August continued, “you lot don’t get out much either.”

“Hey, I’m just waiting until Ana comes around.” Will argued and she snorted to herself. Ana was Will’s ex-girlfriend. She had packed up and left town a year ago, leaving only a note stating it was over and she was moving to England with a guy she met online. Everyone knew it was over, except for Will. He still had his Facebook relationship status as “It’s complicated.”

“She’s gone man, it’s time to move on.” August said seriously. “And Ruby, I mean no offense when I say this, but you’ve practically dated everyone in town, present company excluded.”

“Speak for yourself, we went on a date once.” Will announced.

“That was a field trip you idiot, and the rest of the school was with us.”

“Ok but my point is, no one in town has been worthy of your affection.” August interrupted and then turned to her, “And Emma.”

“Don’t even go there, I have a six-year-old kid, I don’t have time for another child in my life.”

“Well, here it is, I’m going on a cruise for two weeks. And I’m willing to pay you each your two-week salary, as long as you come with me.”

“Oi, do you think you pay us enough money to afford to go on some fancy cruise ship?”

“Nope, that’s why I’m paying for that too.” He stared at Emma. “But it has to be all or nothing. Either you all come, or you all get a two-week unpaid vacation.”

“That’s hardly fair.” Emma complained. “I can’t just walk away for two weeks, Henry needs me.”

“First off, I already know that he’s about to head to summer camp for four weeks, so your excuse doesn’t exactly work.” Emma crossed her arms against her chest, she hadn’t expected him to know about that. “Ok, one excuse down, who’s next?”

“You aren’t going to get one from me. If you want to pay me to go on a cruise, I’m down.” Ruby hopped up on the bar.

“What’s the catch, Mate? Two weeks pay, a cruise vacation, something’s not adding up here.” Emma had to agree with Will, he wasn’t telling them the entire truth.

“Fine, it’s a singles cruise.”

“No way, I’m out.” Emma grunted, as she furiously wiped down the table in front of her for the second time that evening.

“Oh, come on Emma, who cares? There is nothing that says you have to hook up with anyone there.” Ruby pleaded, “I really want to try out my new bikini I bought last week. It would look so much better on a cruise ship than it would on our stupid beach.”

“I can’t go on a single’s cruise, I’m not single.” Will argued.

“She dumped you.” The three of them all shouted in unison.

“Come on you guys, we can all be there together, and just have fun.” Ruby continued to plead her case.

“Did I mention the alcohol is all paid for up front?” August announced with a wink.

“Bloody hell, I’m in.”

Suddenly all eyes were on here. “Please Emma.” Ruby whined.

“Free Alcohol, lass. We can just sit at the damn bar and drink all day. I’ll be your date.” Will flirted from the back of the bar.

“Brining a date would defeat the singles part, don’t you think?”

“Emma, you’re out of excuses.” August shrugged.

“Fine. But I have one condition.” She said angrily, coming up with a fool proof plan to get out of going. “If I’m going to be forced to go on this trip, then I’m not going without David.”

August laughed and surprisingly shook his head. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Dammit.

#TLC #The love cruise #stacy's fics #my fic #captainswan #captain swan #captain swan au #captain swan fics #captain swan modern au #emma x killian #killian jones #emma x hook #emma swan

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rosy-wooyoung · 4 years

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Husband series [8/8] | Jongho

Word count: 4.3k Pairing: ex-husband! San x single mom! reader x boyfriend! Jongho Genre: fluff, another make out session yeet A/N: aaaand that’s the last one of the “series” !! I hope it wasn’t too repetitive and that you enjoyed it, feedbacks are appreciated! Thank you for reading!! (Jongho is bby tho 🥺)

You had met San when you were in college. You were a business student, and he was working as a graphic designer in a company near your university. Meeting through a mutual friend one night at a dinner out with the so-called friend, you instantly clicked as good friend. Your friendship soon grew into a romantic one, becoming almost inseparable. Even with your busy schedules, you still managed to make everything work, sometimes going out for lunch or FaceTiming each other late at night, right when you had finished studying. Three years later, your relationship with San was going strong, and you’ve never felt so pretty and happy. He was treating you the way you had dreamt to be treated, fulfilling every aspect that you were looking for in a man. San loved you with his entire heart, being called a simp by his friends and co-workers didn’t prevent him from loving you unconditionally. (people can be mean sometimes let just people love each other ffs)

He understood your mood swings, your constant tired state, but he didn’t mind. He knew that being at university was exhausting, so we let you have your space yet still had opened arms for you if you needed it. Since you were a teenager, you had an idea of a job that you wanted to do, so you did everything to make it work and study for it. Though one day, someone from a company came to one of your lectures to talk about his work and you immediately fell in love with his job. It was a job that you didn’t even know that existed, and you suddenly craved to reach this work in your career. However, there’s been a hiccup. You needed a master’s degree to reach this post. That meant moving to another city, going to grad school and start everything. And studying even more crazily that you were currently doing. And that’s what you did. You were getting busier and busier, to the point of almost not being able to handle your relationship with San anymore. You could already barely make your friendships work, let alone a romantic one.

There was another dilemma to all of that.

You had gotten married to San a few months after your bachelor graduation. Of course, you had celebrated it with a honeymoon over the Summer in Hawaii. And we all know what happens most of the time during a honeymoon… During your second month of grad school, you started feeling nauseous and dizzy several times during the day, starting right after you woke up. Worried, you went to the doctor to check if you were healthy, but it turned out that you were just pregnant.

Married and pregnant, you could say goodbye to your master’s degree.

You felt like you could do it at first, that nothing could bring you down, not even a baby or your health. You gave birth to a wonderful daughter seven months later, one of the happiest moments in your life. However, a few weeks later, it came to a point where taking care of your daughter, your master and husband became way too overwhelming for you to control. One night, you sat in your bed as you breastfeed your daughter, San lying dead asleep next to you. He was curled up in the covers, softly dreaming as your mind was rushing. Trains of thoughts, anxieties, worries invaded your mind, preventing you from doing your activity with your daughter calmly. She whined as you sighed, probably feeling your anxiety through your feeding, so you tried to take deep breaths and calm down a bit.

You were becoming irritable and quite aggressive, stress and exhaustion taking over your body. San taking care of you was sometimes suffocating when he just wanted to take care of you and your daughter. He was simply trying to help. But to you, he was in the way. You hated to admit it, but it was falling apart. San accused you from taking too much time for your master’s degree and Youngsoon, feeling left aside and abandoned as you privileged something and someone else more. San was always at work since he was the only source of income, sad and disappointed that everything had turned out that way.

“San, I want a divorce,” you said one night, and your husband dropped his fork in his plate. “No, Y/N, we’re going to make things work out, I promise.” “I don’t want to do it anymore, I’m tired,” you said, emotionless as you drank a sip of water, grimacing as it was lukewarm because of the candle standing next to it. “You’re just saying that because you’re under stress, I know you don’t mean it,” he said as he grabbed your hand across the table, but you took it away from him. Even when you were mad or angry at him, you didn’t act like that. He knew when you retracted your hand, it was serious. You fought for days, watching your relationship fall apart. San took the couch a few nights in a row, and so did you. There were nights where San went out, probably drinking or doing something else and you didn’t even get to see him in the mornings. No more post-it notes left on the counter, no more texts from him, just cold and bitter answers as you told him that you were going to bed.

[You] : I’m going to bed, your dinner is in the oven. [Sannie] : Ok.

This was the last text that you sent him. He came from work one day and displayed a stack of paper in front of you, as well with a pen.

“Have fun,” he said as he went out the door without looking back, his blazer in his grip. Divorce papers were scattered in front of you, reading each line of it during the entire night, pondering if it was a great decision or not. He had finally accepted your decision, yet he still felt miserable and in love. San had great manners, so he helped you move out when it was time. He was cold when he was talking to you, but you knew that you deserve it, but you also knew that it was his way of shielding himself. He waved at you one last time from his porch and sighed, letting his tears roll down as you drove away. After a few days, he was still sending you messages, but you ended up blocking him because you needed to focus on something else. It was a hard decision but move on was your key point.

Your master’s was doing quite well, you managed to get through the first two years. It was getting tougher yet more interesting, and you successfully ended your second year. Your third year consisted of you staying abroad or a semester or more and completing your thesis. Your grad school didn’t really allow this, but due to your condition, they agreed on letting you take your daughter. When you arrived in South Korea, you, fortunately, knew the basics, living your life independently as you tried to learn a bit of Korean every day, getting more and more comfortable in the language as the weeks went by. The company you were working at was filled with nice people, welcoming you in their life as if you were an old friend. You've been hit on by co-workers, but you politely declined, too immersed into your job and daughter to even care about dating.

A handsome man named Jongho worked in the company you were doing your stay in, and you grew to have a crush on him. I mean, who couldn’t. A lot of women in the company were cooing over him, he wasn’t the eldest, yet he acted more maturely than some of the eldest crocodiles in the company. He was courteous, gentle and a very smiley man, warming you up on a cold way only by his smile. You had talked to him a few times, but nothing crazy. You had unexpectedly met him on your way at the park, and he was coming back from the gym, still sweaty and muscles rolling around. He was wearing quite tight shorts and a tank top, offering you a nice view of his body. You were walking your daughter to make her fall asleep, so you hid at a street corner to avoid him and got out of your spot as he walked past you, never seeing you. One night, you had a company meal and had to decline it, even if you really wanted to go. You had to take care of your daughter, plus you needed to start writing your thesis, and you didn’t really like the fact that someone you didn’t know would take care of her while you were out, drinking and eating with friends. You were more reassured to be with your daughter, comfortably sat at home with a cup of tea, lo-fi music in the background, hard-working as you’ve been doing for the past five years.

The following day, Jongho intercepted you and asked why you weren’t there last night. Panicking, you tried to explain that you were busy with your thesis, but he wasn’t really convinced.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. Do you wanna grab lunch with me today?” He changed the subject, and you almost dropped the folders you had in hand. “I planned on cooking at home, I’m sorry.” “Alright,” he said with a thin disappointed smile, and you sheepishly smiled at him before going back to work. You hated declining opportunities to talk to him, but you needed to feed your daughter since the day-care centre had to unexpectedly close doors for this afternoon. Coming home from work, one evening, you noticed that you didn’t have any food left in the fridge. You started to think about ordering takeout, but you suddenly remembered that your daughter still had a fragile stomach and capricious stomach, making you sigh. You quickly dressed your daughter and put her in her pushchair, making your way out to the local convenience store.

And you happened to run into Jongho. Again. He was coming back from the gym, hair still wet from his shower, his sports bag loosely hanging from his shoulder. “Oh, hi, Jongho—” you didn’t even have the time to cross the street or hide that he appeared in front of you, almost crashing onto each other. “H-hi Y/N,” he stuttered, his eyes widening at your daughter, who was tugging on his pants. “Youngsoon, no!” You shushed her since Jongho didn’t move, almost seeing gears working next to his head as he thought about everything you had told him by the past. And it clicked. He quickly excused himself from you and paced the other way, as pale as if he had seen a ghost. That’s when you understood that he wanted to be more than just co-workers and you had no longer a chance with him. You had done your best to avoid him with your daughter, but it needed to happen one night.

The following day at work, you avoided each other like the plague, sending each other glares, but immediately looking away when you were caught red-handed in the act. It came to a habit for the following week, and you started to move on. It wasn’t the first time that you needed to move on, so you were kind of numb and used to it. At a lunch break, you prepared yourself to go home and felt someone touch your shoulder. It was Jongho, and your heart started beating faster. It had been a while that you hadn’t seen him this close and his hand on your shoulder sent electricity in your veins.

“Wanna grab lunch with me?” “Jongho, I can’t.” you sighed and kept on packing. “Take her along.” He winked as he placed a small piece of paper in your free hand before walking away. You opened it and discovered a restaurant address, making you dash and rush at home. Your daughter was slightly confused, but she clapped when you told her that you’d have lunch with the man that wore sweatpants the other night. When you arrived at the address, Jongho was already waiting for you at a table. You entered the restaurant, and he smiled, waving at you from his spot. You smiled, your heart banged louder when you noticed the highchair near yours. It was a small gesture, yet it was something meaningful to you; he cared about your daughter well-being.

“Thank you for the invitation,” you said as you sat your daughter in her chair. She was quite shy around Jongho, she couldn’t look at him in the eyes. She seemed impressed, which made Jongho smile. “It’s nothing,” he swayed his hand in front of him with a smile and bit back a laugh when your daughter harshly played with your hand. “Don’t hurt Mommy,” he said, and Youngsoon looked at him, pink appearing on her cheeks as she stopped pulling on your fingers. You grabbed your ring from her hold and replaced it on your finger, smiling as Jongho offered to play with his hand instead. “So how have you been?” you asked as you slightly smiled at the waiter, who was placing a bottle of sparkling water between you two. Jongho thanked the waiter with a nod and looked up, slightly leaning towards you. You shifted in your seat, trying to ignore the discomfort that took place between the two of you. “Honestly, not that good,” he finally answered after sighing. Your eyebrows furrowed, worried that someone bad happened to him. “Do you wanna talk about it?” you offered before taking a sip of the bubbly liquid, hitching your throat as you swallowed it.

“I missed you,” he blurted, and you almost choked. You certainly weren’t expecting this, but you weren’t nonetheless disappointed. “What?” you asked as you wiped your mouth with your napkin. “Yeah, I’ve missed you quite badly. Those past couples of days without daring to look at you, smile at you or talk to you made me realise that, yeah, I really liked you. I know I disappeared like a coward when I saw you with this little one,” he admitted as he shook his finger, which was still in your daughter’s hold since she was whining for affection. “I shouldn’t have, but I wasn’t expecting that you had a past like yours. I’m sorry, I realised I messed up the second I ran away, and I couldn’t see myself coming to you as if nothing happened. I hope you’ll forgive me because I really want things to work out together. I think we can go pretty far if you’re alright with it,” the last parts of his sentence sounded a bit unsure, which gave him an endearing appearance. “Okay, you're lucky that you're handsome,” you admitted with a smile and Jongho’s eyes almost bugged out, a shock expression on his face. “I forgive you, but I still need a moment to process everything. I haven’t dated anyone in a while,” you said with a nervous smile, which immediately reassures Jongho. “Of course, take the time you need,” he winked, and the remaining of the lunch went by without any trouble.

Time flew by, and it soon became the end of your stay in Seoul. You had to go back to your home country, leaving friends and co-workers behind. After that particular lunch date with Jongho, he invited you over his place the following night, cooking and spending the night together, as well as with your daughter. A memory of that night was still quite vivid in your mind, remembering your daughter sitting on Jongho’s belly, legs dangling off his body and Jongho softly played with her as you watched the film displayed on the TV. You smiled as you heard her fits of giggles and Jongho’s babbling. Your first kiss happened that night as well, right after putting your daughter to bed. He had waited for you to come back to the living room and sprung to his feet, almost knocking you to the floor. He held your waist and made you both fall on the couch, him underneath you. You were straddling him, a position that you didn't get to experience for years. You sat on his lap, and he cupped your cheek with his hand, the other clutching your waist, dragging you closer to him.

Everything went almost too naturally, Jongho did everything to make it happen that way. He stretched his neck, and you leant in, your lips meeting halfway through. As you were exchanging your first kiss, you hoped that your daughter wouldn’t interrupt this precious moment. Jongho groaned in the kiss and roughly grabbed you by the neck to deepen your languid exchange, which made butterflies erupt in your stomach. Years that you spent every day without getting kissed on the lips, you hadn’t realised how much you missed this. Jongho was the one to wake Youngsoon up the next morning, leaving you to sleep in as you were tired from your activities from the night before.

They had a great bond together, it was endearing to see them getting along so well. He came a few nights in a row at your place, your daughter almost taking him as her dad. She always ran to him when he showed up at the day-care centre with you, rushing in his arms, giving him only a few seconds to scoop her in his arms and hug her. She held onto him very tightly, small hands grabbing at the hair on the back of his head. You stroked her head, and she finally noticed you, making grabby hands as she tried to escape from Jongho’s arms to come into yours. You were her mother, after all, she preferred to be in your arms than being into someone else’s. She was your cherished daughter, and you were her cherished mother. Other people at the day-care centre mistook you too many times as married young parents. At first, you were embarrassed and nervous that people thought you had your child together, but you quickly got used to it. Having someone as Jongho by your side made you realise how lucky you were that he chose you because there was no shortage of beautiful women in the company you worked at.

Today was the day that you all felt extremely sad. You had to leave all the great memories behind, as well as Jongho. You had tried to make him come along, but he had his family and friends there as well. You were exhausted, your daughter almost crying every night as you tried to put her to sleep, but the thought of leaving your boyfriend was near unbearable for her. The ride to the airport was silent. You barely greeted Jongho as you opened the door. He faintly smiled as he took your suitcases, stuffing them in his truck as you directly went to the passenger seat after installing your daughter in the backseat. She was pouting all the time, trying to turn around to look at Jongho for the last time.

Once you arrived at the airport, you happened to run into Yunho, one of Jongho’s friends, who was also getting ready to take the plane to go on a holiday. You tried to keep your composure as much as possible, but your eyes welled up with tears when you heard the call for your flight. You were about to go for a hug, but Jongho did a handshake to his friend, Yunho passing him his backpack, as well as his suitcases. You looked at them, confused, but when Jongho smiled at you, it clicked.

He was coming with you.

“Are- are you serious?” your voice wavered as you felt your eyes burning. He nodded with a smile, and you swore that you could’ve yelled in happiness. Which you did. You screamed and ran to Jongho’s arms, dropping your daughter’s hand in the way. She didn’t understand why you yelled, so she cried, interrupting your euphoria. You let go of Jongho to stare at your daughter and took her in your arms. “Honey, Jongho is coming with us,” she immediately stopped crying and sniffled, looking at you. She then looked at Jongho, who had the brightest smile on his face, caressing your daughter’s cheek with his knuckle. He gave her a kiss on the cheek, before capturing your lips in a feverish kiss. You felt someone taking your daughter off your arms and mumbled something. “Oh time to come with me pretty girl, I won’t let you see that,” you smiled in the kiss as you heard Yunho’s comment and took the opportunity to wrap your arms around your lover’s neck. The kiss got quickly abrupted as you heard the last call for your flight, taking your daughter back and waving at Yunho with a big smile as you rushed to your departure gate. Jongho had managed to find a seat right behind you and your daughter, comforting and playing with your daughter when you fell asleep. You were relieved that she wasn’t too loud, shyly looking at the man sitting next to you. You put your index finger on your lips to signal her to stay quiet, to which she slowly nodded. Her big eyes got distracted by a hand coming between the seats to scratch her belly, softly giggling at the tickles.

When you arrived in your home country, you were exhausted. You barely recognised yourself when you entered the bathroom, brushing your hair back into place as you yawned. Your daughter was barely standing up, you couldn’t wait to go home and call it a day. Jongho was waiting for you with your suitcases, ready to go and hail a taxi for a drive home. Reality struck you right in the face; you didn’t have a place to stay since you sold everything when you went to live abroad. The only place you knew was your parents’ house. After a call with your father, Jongho stopped a taxi and put the suitcases in the truck. Youngsoon was dead asleep in your arms, keeping her against your chest as you sat in the backseat. The journey to your parents’ house wasn’t that long, so it should be good enough to keep her like that.

You wanted to sleep for the next week, but your thesis needed you, as much as you needed sleep. Fortunately, Jongho was working in the same field as you did, so he could keep on writing your paper when you were exhausted. He and your parents were taking turns to take care of your daughter when you were doing your thesis or sleeping, barely making it alive when you put a full stop to your work.

“Y/N! There’s someone at the door for you!” Your mom screamed from downstairs and, from the tone of her voice, she wasn’t the happiest. You frowned and ran downstairs, almost stumbling on the last steps as you recognised the silhouette in the doorway.

San.

He was standing there, hair longer and body slimmer than the last time you saw him. You swallowed thickly as you had wished to look more presentable, but, to your defence, you weren’t expecting him to knock at your door a whole year and a half after your divorce. You clenched your teeth as you stared at him, whereas he had the softest smile decorating his lips. “You haven’t ch—” “Don’t you dare to finish your sentence,” you spat, looking at him dead in the eyes, “No.” you sternly said, pushing your hair back. “Okay,” he said as he widened his eyes, putting his hands in his jeans pockets. “What do you want?” you asked, starting to get impatient at the sight of your ex-husband. “To have you back,” he said, and your breath got stuck in your throat. “Of course, but you know that’s impossible,” you stated as you crossed your arms on your chest, only to hear San sighing. “But I know that we can make it work! You’re back from your year abroad, we can start again from where we left. I’ve been waiting for you to come back, I was hopeful that you’d come back, and you did. I promise to give you my everything to make things work, I’m even ready to propo—” “Darling, who is this?” you heard Jongho said and you turned around, only to find him with Youngsoon in his arms. The former stared at your ex-husband with a suspicious look. You looked at San, who was already looking at you. “Honey, this is San,” you answered, your eyes never leaving his, “my ex-husband.” Your words stayed stuck in San’s throat, who struggled to swallow. He looked at your daughter with teary eyes, hopeful that she’d recognise him, but she didn’t. Instead, she cuddled further into Jongho’s chest, her head turning away from her dad. Jongho still had the courtesy of extending his hand towards San, but the latter shook his head. He looked at you one last time, slowly moving backwards until his back came into contact with his car. You saw him clench his jaw and looked away, walking around his car, and entering it as quickly as possible before squealing your tires and taking off like a rocket. You sighed and closed the door, looking at your boyfriend.

“Was it her father?” you nodded, and he held your hip, kissing it with such delicacy that you faintly smiled. “I thought that he had moved on,” you mumbled, and Jongho dragged you close to him by the forearm. “Don’t worry about it, he’ll do it soon,” he said against your temple as you caressed your daughter’s back, “you don’t have to feel bad because he still hasn’t moved on and you did, people move at their own pace, remember that,” he kissed your temple and tightened your hold around his waist, humming his shirt. You closed your eyes and felt at peace, the memory of San slowly fading away in your brain. You couldn’t help but feel terrible, but deep down, you knew that he’d move on someday. It wasn’t just meant to be now.

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unfolded73 · 4 years

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Fiancés (1/1) -schitt’s creek ff

The fourth in the Labels series. David and Patrick visit the Brewers during their engagement. Also ended up being a sort of reaction fic to 6x08, at least partially. (ao3)

WARNING: This fic references a homophobic relative of Patrick's, and explores Patrick's fears about members of his extended family not accepting him. Also it explores some of the mistakes that Marcy may have made in the past, even though she's fully accepting now. In my headcanon, Patrick's reluctance to come out to his family had a reason.

Rated Teen, 3823 words. Previous fics in this Labels series: Boyfriends; “I Love You”, Partners

Other Season 6 reaction fics: 6x01, 6x02, 6x04, 6x06, 6x07, 6x13, 6x14

__________________________________

Fiancé, n. a man engaged to be married

He’d tried to prepare himself, but really nothing could have prepared Patrick for the incongruity of David Rose standing in the middle of the living room he’d grown up in, examining the pictures on the mantel with a crooked smile.

David was in an outfit that, for him, was toned down — a white sweatshirt and a simple pair of black jeans. Patrick wondered if his fiancé was consciously trying to round off his edges in front of Patrick’s family. After all, the last item of clothing he’d seen David buy off the internet was a skirt that looked like someone had partially disassembled a pair of jeans and called it a day, so in comparison, this ensemble was positively dull. It made Patrick sad, if that’s what was in David’s head. He didn’t want David to feel like he had to hide who he was. He wanted David to be as comfortable with the Brewers as he was at home.

Not that Patrick was feeling especially comfortable either. At least his skin was back to its normal pallid colour after the engagement picture debacle the previous week, but the whole thing had left him feeling a little off. On top of that, he and David had agreed to this weekend trip under duress. Patrick had a lot of family, some of whom wouldn’t be able to make it to the wedding, so Patrick’s parents had convinced them to squeeze in a weekend trip in spite of all the other things they were juggling: visits to caterers and florists and taking care of the store, plus they had the joint bachelor party that Stevie was planning for them coming up soon. It was a lot.

Not to mention, Patrick’s one request for the weekend — that a few members of the family do an escape room together, a recent family tradition that Patrick really adored — had been nixed by his parents because they couldn’t include everyone. He’d complained to Stevie about it until she got fed up and left the store while he was mid-rant.

So here they were, and in a few hours the entire extended Brewer clan would be congregated in the backyard, scarfing down hot dogs and judging his choice of a life partner.

“You were very cute,” David said, pointing to a picture of Patrick at around seven years old. “Look at those curls.”

“Yeah, my hair still does that if I let it grow too long,” Patrick said, joining him next to the fireplace.

David looked at the top of his head. “I’d like to see that. I bet it would be devastatingly sexy if you let it grow out a little bit.”

“It’s not, trust me.”

David pressed his lips together, visibly holding in his argument. “Okay.”

Patrick raised his eyebrows. “Okay? You’re not going to insist I grow it out before the wedding?”

“No,” David said, reaching out and petting Patrick’s hair a few times. “I was going to wait until after we’re married and then insist on it.”

“Hmm.” Patrick closed his eyes, David’s touch soothing as always. They’d driven all day yesterday, arriving at Patrick’s parents’ house too late to do more than say their hellos before collapsing into exhausted sleep in the guest bedroom, the room that used to be his. It was only upon waking that Patrick had given some thought to the teenage boy he’d been, and what he’d think to see Patrick now, in bed with a man in his childhood bedroom. He’d curled around David under the thick blankets and for several minutes just savored the fact that he was allowed to have this: a family who loved him and a man who wanted to share his life.

“Boys? Breakfast is ready!” his mother called, and David’s eyes lit up.

While they were eating, David and Marcy talked wedding details, and Patrick couldn’t help but remember similar conversations between his mother and Rachel. At least this time, listening to these discussions wasn’t giving him an anxiety stomach ache.

Patrick’s phone chimed, and he pulled it out to see a text from Stevie with a link to the spreadsheet where they were tracking RSVPs for the wedding. while you’re there can u get a final y/n from the rest of ur relatives? her accompanying message read. Patrick clicked to open the Google sheets app on his phone, scrolling through to see which names still didn’t have a reply marked.

“Hey, Mom? It looks like we haven’t gotten a reply for the wedding from Aunt Chrissy,” Patrick said.

His mother’s eyes widened a little, and then she looked down at his kitchen table. “Oh, I… I don’t think she’s feeling well enough to travel.”

Patrick frowned. “What do you mean, well enough? Is she sick?” It wouldn’t be the first time one of his relatives got seriously ill and his mother didn’t tell him right away. When he’d been at college, he’d gone days without being told that his grandfather was in hospice. To this day, he wondered how long his parents would have gone without telling him if one of his cousins hadn’t mentioned it in an email. Would they have kept it a secret through his death, and beyond, so that Patrick would have come home for Christmas and asked about granddad, with no idea that he was dead?

“Oh! No, she’s… um…” Marcy was looking anywhere but at Patrick. “She just can’t make it.”

“Will she be at the party today?” he asked, frowning at his mother’s demeanor.

“No. She won’t be here today,” Clint said, and there was something dark in his voice. Patrick sensed David tense up at his side.

“I mean, we didn’t even get an RSVP card from her, and she used to send me a birthday card every year without fail. It’s not like…” And then it dawned on him, and his stomach plummeted to the floor. He felt like an idiot. “This is about about me being gay, isn’t it?”

Marcy gave him a pained expression, and that was all he needed to know the truth.

Patrick picked up his breakfast plate and stood, his chair scraping the floor and making Marcy jump.

“The thing is,” Marcy said, “she’s gotten even more religious as she’s gotten older, and—”

“Uh huh.” He didn’t want to talk about this. “It’s fine.”

“Honey—” David started.

“It’s not fine. Believe me, we had a very heated discussion with her,” Marcy said.

The last thing Patrick wanted to think about was his mom defending him to her sister in a ‘heated discussion,’ but he couldn’t help picking at it a little more, like a scab before it had healed. “What did she say when she got the wedding invitation?” he asked, facing the sink. David came over and put a hand on his back, a hovering presence at his side.

“I don’t know. We haven’t spoken since before your invitations went out,” Marcy said.

Patrick spun around and gaped at his mother. “You haven’t spoken.” He could remember them talking on the phone constantly when he was a little boy, his mother with the house cordless phone pressed between her ear and her shoulder as she cooked, and then later, the little flip phone with the pull-out antenna that was his mom’s first cell phone. She talked to Chrissy all the time, and his father used to gently rib her about it. Marcy and Chrissy, two sisters only a year apart in age who had grown up thick as thieves in a house with two brothers.

“If she isn’t going to accept my son and his partner, then I can’t have a relationship with her,” Marcy said, suddenly fierce, a mother bear protecting her cub. “It’s as simple as that.”

“What did she say about us?” he asked, and he didn’t want to know, except he desperately did want to know what could have made his mother so angry.

She shook her head. “Just some ugly things. I don’t want to say any more about it.”

Ugly things, Patrick thought. He could imagine the gist of it. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Clint said.

“Nothing,” his mother confirmed.

Clint slapped his own knees and stood up from the table, an obvious ploy to pull the ripcord on this conversation. “I’m going to start getting things set up out back. David, can you give me a hand?”

David grimaced, looking to Patrick to see what he needed. “Go ahead,” Patrick said. “I’m fine.” David squeezed his arm, his eyes filled with worry and sympathy. “I’m fine,” Patrick assured him.

“Are you sure?” David asked, visibly torn between being a model son-in-law and doing as Clint asked, and staying by Patrick’s side.

“I’m sure.” Patrick forced a smile. “I know you want some input into the whole backyard barbecue aesthetic.”

“Okay.” David hesitated another second, then kissed his cheek and followed Clint outside.

At a loss for what else to do, Patrick started washing the breakfast dishes, but his mind was like a dog with a bone. This was exactly what he’d feared, what had kept him from coming out to his family for so long. He wasn’t that close with his aunt, but she and his mother had been two peas in a pod. Was it really possible that they’d diverged so completely in their thinking? Or was his mother just doing a really good job of pretending she accepted him and David together?

When he turned around and grabbed his mother’s plate, she took hold of his arm. “Patrick, you know we support you a hundred percent, right?”

“Yeah.” But something made him add, “I mean, I’m sure a part of you wishes that I’d stayed in town and married a nice girl and had a couple of kids.”

The hurt look in his mother’s eyes stabbed him in the heart. “Of course we don’t wish that. It’s your happiness that matters.”

Patrick knew he should drop it. He knew it. His engagement party was today; now was not the time to air out the effect of his upbringing on his sexuality. But it was like now that he’d cracked the door open, or maybe now that his Aunt Chrissy had cracked the door open, everything was going to spill out and he had no power to stop it.

“Do you remember my friend Karen from high school?” Patrick asked, looking at the plate in his hand without really seeing it.

“I… your lab partner in biology?” Marcy asked.

“Yeah. She came out as bisexual that year, and when I told you that her parents were giving her a hard time about it, do you remember what you said?”

Marcy’s eyes were wide. “What did I say?”

“You said, ‘surely it would be easier for her just to date boys.’”

His mother opened and closed her mouth a couple of times. “I don’t remember saying that.”

“I never forgot it,” Patrick said. He remembered questioning his sexuality at one point in college and then deciding it would be easier not to go down that road. That road led somewhere difficult.

“Sweetheart—”

“And look, you said plenty of tolerant things too. You watched Will & Grace, and you shook your head disapprovingly at hatred from others. But there was always a layer of what-a-shame, isn’t-that-sad… I don’t know, tragedy to it. Like being gay was an unfortunate disease that needed our support. Like it was cancer.”

Marcy looked positively stricken. “Patrick, I didn’t feel that way. Why would you think I felt that way?”

“Because you never said anything to make me think otherwise.”

Tears slid down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I never meant… Patrick, I’m so sorry. If I indicated any sadness about someone being gay, it was just because the world was such a hard place for gay people. But things have changed. I’ve changed.”

“I know.” He set the plate back on the table and rubbed his hands over his face. “God, I didn’t mean to stir all of this up now.” He swallowed around a lump in his throat, hoping David and his father wouldn’t come back inside to find them here like this.

“No, I’m glad you told me,” Marcy said, reaching out and squeezing his hand. “I know we made mistakes, that we didn’t give you the space to be who you are, and I’ve spent so many nights lying awake thinking about that—”

“I don’t want that. And I don’t want you to sever your relationship with your sister on my behalf. You don’t have to do that.”

“I do, sweetheart. Chrissy knows she’s welcome to reopen communication with me if she accepts my son for who he is.” She plucked up a napkin from the napkin holder in the center of the table, dabbing at her eyes. “Until then, I can’t have her in my life.” She took a deep breath. “Now,” she said, clapping her hands as if to dismiss their heavy conversation, “let’s get this kitchen cleaned up. I’ve got a million things to do to get ready for the party.”

Patrick nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

~~~

When he was sufficiently motivated, David Rose was quite capable of turning on the charm, Patrick thought, watching him presiding over a table of Patrick’s cousins.

He was already aware of that, of course. David was impolite when he didn’t care what people thought of him, but Patrick had seen this version of David emerge before, particularly with vendors. He imagined this must’ve been what David was like when he ran an art gallery in New York, full of sparkling conversation. Everyone seemed to adore David, but it bothered him that it was this fake version of David they adored, not the one Patrick knew.

Picking up his tongs, Patrick opened the grill and nudged all the sausages to flip over.

“Hey, Pat,” his cousin Dennis said, bumping his shoulder. “Want another beer?”

Draining the bottle he’d been holding, Patrick tossed it into a recycling bin. “Sure.”

He watched Dennis pull two bottles from a cooler and open them. Patrick and Dennis were the same age, same grade in school, played on the same hockey team growing up. There was a time when Dennis was the closest friend Patrick had. He felt a sudden pang of regret that he’d let the family gossip tree and a couple of Instagram posts do the job of coming out to the rest of his family, even to Dennis. It had just been too exhausting, after finally telling his parents, to think about having to do it all over again with everyone else. Now he wondered if that had been a mistake, at least in the case of his former best friend.

Dennis handed him one of the bottles and then clinked their bottles together. “Working the grill at your own party, huh?”

“Dad needed a break,” Patrick explained.

“How are you doing? You look good, man.”

Patrick glanced down at himself, at his ordinary jeans and t-shirt, wondering what Dennis was seeing. Well, perhaps he was in a tighter t-shirt than he used to wear, now that he thought about it. And he knew he was in the best shape of his life — David’s appreciation of his arms was a powerful motivator. Patrick adjusted the ballcap on his head. “Thanks. You too.”

“You still playing hockey?” Dennis asked.

“Yeah, there’s a league I play in,” Patrick said. “And baseball too.”

“Oh, cool. That’s cool.”

An awkward silence settled, and Patrick couldn’t help but notice that Dennis hadn’t congratulated him, or mentioned David at all. Maybe Dennis also wasn’t okay with who he was, and was just being polite and trying his best to ignore it. Maybe Dennis was looking at Patrick’s cosmopolitan, effeminate fiancé with his demonstrative hand movements, and thinking how tragic it all was. Their poor little Pat, being regularly sodomized. Patrick wasn’t going to delude himself into thinking that there weren’t other bigots among his aunts and uncles and cousins. That there wasn’t judgement hiding behind their polite smiles.

“You know, if you’d told me when we were kids that you were gay,” Dennis said, “I would’ve been in your corner.” Patrick’s eyes snapped to his cousin, and he was awkwardly scratching the back of his head. “I hope you know that.”

The hulking homophobic creature Patrick had been conjuring in his mind dissipated into smoke. “Dennis, I didn’t know I was gay when we were kids. It was a… much more recent discovery.”

Dennis looked relieved. “Oh. Okay, I was kind of imagining you suffering in silence all that time. I felt really bad about it, man.”

“I mean, I guess I was suffering, but I couldn’t have articulated why.” He opened the grill and stuck a probe thermometer in one of the sausages, then started putting them on a clean platter.

“Yeah.” He put a hand on Patrick’s shoulder. “I’m really glad you’re happy now.”

Patrick smiled his first genuine smile all day. “Thanks. I really am.”

“I mean, you should be. Your fiancé is… how’d you pull a guy that hot, Pat? He’s way out of your league.”

“Okay,” Patrick grumbled, taking the platter over to the food table. “He’s not that far out of my league.”

~~~

“Your family is very nice,” David said as he returned from the bathroom, his face freshly scrubbed and moisturized, his coziest pajamas on.

Patrick looked up from where he was sitting at the foot of the bed, staring down at his hands, and he offered David a small smile. “Yeah.”

“Hey, are you okay?” David sat down at his side, and then wrinkled his nose. “You probably should go shower the charcoal smell off.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna…” Patrick took a shaky breath. His heart was racing for some reason. He couldn’t understand why. And why he couldn’t seem to haul enough air into his lungs. “I’m…” He heaved another breath, and a weird noise came out of his mouth along with it. Almost like a sob. “I…”

“Oh, honey,” David said, and Patrick felt his large, comforting hands on his shoulders, smoothing down his arms, his back. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Patrick managed, a tear splashing onto his jeans. Then another. “I don’t… I don’t cry.”

“No, I think we’ve established that I’m the crier in this relationship,” David said, his hands pulling Patrick into his chest. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s just…” Patrick heaved another breath, shaky. “It’s all of it, the stress of the wedding planning and this trip… I’m just tired. I’m really tired. And the thing with my aunt, and it made me wonder… who else in the family thinks… thinks I’m…” More tears were falling, running down his cheeks and soaking into David’s sleep shirt.

“I don’t know the answer to that, but I know that I met a lot of people today who adore you and are genuinely happy for you.” David was rubbing comforting circles on his back. “And also, fuck your aunt.”

Patrick hiccuped out a small laugh. “Yeah.”

They sat there for a while, David rocking him and rubbing his back and it was so good, it was exactly what he needed, to have someone to lean on, to shoulder all of this because he just couldn’t fucking carry it all anymore.

“My mom and her sister aren’t speaking, and it’s because of me. Because of what I am,” Patrick whispered. His darkest thought. If he couldn’t say it to David, then he couldn’t say it to anyone.

“But you know that’s not your fault. It’s hers.”

“I know that intellectually, but deep down it still feels like… it feels like my fault.”

“Yeah, you should have just worked harder to not be gay,” David said.

“I know. It’s stupid.”

“No, it’s not stupid. It’s human to feel that way. You just have to keep telling yourself that you are who you are and that anyone who doesn’t like it can fuck off.”

“I’m not used to feeling this way. At home, it feels good, being gay. Like I know who I am, and that I can… I can be proud.” Patrick’s stomach twisted, uncertain if he should say the next part. “I think it’s why the spray tan thing bothered me so much. It made me feel like you weren’t…” Patrick sighed and pulled out of David’s arms.

“Honey—”

“Like you weren’t proud to be marrying me. That you wanted me to be someone I’m not.”

“Patrick.” David’s face was stricken. “You think I’m not proud to be marrying you?”

“I mean, my cousin Dennis did say you’re way out of my league,” Patrick said with a smile, trying to lighten things up with a joke.

“Patrick. I couldn’t be more proud to be marrying you. Look at you! You’re so fucking smart and talented at literally everything and you’re just stupid hot—”

“Okay, David.”

“I literally tripped over my own feet the other day because I was distracted by your arms, and… and you sing and play multiple instruments, and sports—”

“You don’t care about sports.”

“I don’t, but I love that you’re good at them. You’re the one that’s out of my league. Patrick. I want to shove you in the faces of everyone who ever thought I wasn’t good enough.” David’s eyes turned glassy, and he blinked rapidly. “I want to say, look, if this amazing man thinks I’m worthy of spending his life with, then I’m… then I’m not nothing.”

“David. You’re not—”

“I couldn’t be more proud that you want to marry me.” A tear slid down David’s cheek.

Patrick leaned in and kissed him softly on the lips. “Me too.” David put his arms around Patrick’s neck, and Patrick dragged his lips over to kiss his favorite spot on David’s neck before sinking more deeply into the hug.

After an amount of time that Patrick couldn’t quantify, they finally pulled apart. Patrick picked up David’s left hand, his fingers running over the gold rings.

“I figured planning a wedding with you would be better than planning one with Rachel and it is, but there are parts of it that are still stressful.”

David laughed. “Yes.”

“It’ll be a relief to just get to the part where we’re married already.”

David pulled his hand back. “You aren’t… looking forward to the wedding?”

“No, I am. I mean, not the stressful mad dash of it, not the logistics. Not whatever disaster we can’t predict that’s going to throw everything into chaos.” He took David’s hand again and looked up and smiled at the grimace on David’s face. “But standing up there and putting a ring on your finger? Saying our vows to each other? That part I’m looking forward to. And do you know why?”

“Why?”

Patrick squeezed David’s hand in his own. “Because I’m proud.”

#schitt's creek ff #schitt's creek fic #david x patrick fic #david x patrick ff #my fic

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sheirukitriesfandom · 5 years

Text

The Ghosts Of Home

Second ff? I guess. It’s a short thingie I wrote during a seven hour seminar because I had forgotten my art supplies.

Rashkan (my vampire/necromancer OC) returns to his family home on Solstheim to make peace with his family that he left 50 years ago without saying a word. I didn’t polish this to be honest, so read at your own risk. Also, yay for cheesy song title-titles :P

When he left Raven Rock, he could already see the tiny house in the distance. The fence around the small garden patch had fallen over, the front door barely clung to its designated spot and the paint had long since peeled off the walls; if it had not been for some sorry ash yams that had been planted in the grey soil and the smoke coming out of the chimney as well as some holes in the roof, Rashkan could have sworn the house was deserted.

He took a deep breath, swallowed the lump in his throat and knocked, hoping the door would not fall out of its hinges.

Nothing happened. He waited for a short while, then turned to leave. Just as he had taken a couple of steps back towards Raven Rock, he heard the door open with a loud, wail.

“You?”

Rashkan froze. A sense of dread filled him and, had he been mortal, Rashkan was sure his heart would be bursting right out of his chest. When he finally managed to turn around, he saw his brother standing in the doorway. He was leaning on a crutch, his clothes looked ragged and were patched with mismatched fabric in numerous places. His greying, barely tamed hair ran just over his shoulders; years of trouble were etched into his forehead, and yet, the lines at the corners of his eyes told tales of laughter.

“Dralas- Rashkan began.

“What do you want?”, He snapped.

“Dralas… may I come in?”, Rashkan asked. His brother’s sandals suddenly became incredibly fascinating.

“No, you may not. If mother sees you it might break her poor old heart. You should have seen her after you left. Dad and I almost had to force her to eat. You should be glad it’s me who opened the door, and not him. He would’ve chased you away by now.”

“Speaking of father, what is he doing, now that the mines are closed?”

“Fixes things around town; right now, he’s helping Geldis set up a new distillery. It’s not much, but we have to make do now, don’t we?”

If he were not undead already, Dralas’ stare would have killed him right then and there.

Rashkan sighed:” I’ve come to apologise. And I know you want nothing to do with me anymore, but please let us talk. I live quite comfortably in Winterhold; I have money – enough to at least fix the roof. I am sure we can start anew.”

Rashkan watched as Dralas’ expression turned from angry to pensive and back again.

“Listen Rashkan, I’m sorry but you’re fifty years too late. We managed to survive all this time while you were comfortably sitting on your ass doing your little magic tricks. I sincerely hope it was worth it. In any way, we don’t need your newfound benevolence.”

“Dralas!”, a woman’s voice, gravelly and hoarse, called from within the house.

“A moment!”, Dralas called back.

“Don’t you dare follow me inside!”, Dralas threatened.

Before Rashkan could say anything, he had vanished behind the door.

Despite his better judgement, Rashkan cast a muffle spell on himself, pushed the door open barely enough to slip inside and did just that. The house was sparsely furnished; a bedroll lay in one corner of the room, while in the other a bucket was placed under one of the larger holes in the roof. The fireplace was filled with embers, but it did little to warm even the small room.

To his left, Rashkan found the entrance to his parents’ bedchamber. A tattered, dirt-spotted curtain served as a door. Rashkan peeked through one of the holes. His mother lay in bed, her long hair spread across the pillow in pathetic wisps. Her face was gaunt, almost skeletal and her bony arms hung limb at her sides. In the back of the room Dralas was preparing a glass of water.

“I heard you talking to someone. Was it about the money?”, she croaked.

“Yes, Mogrul again”, he answered as he brought the water to his mother’s bedside. He carefully took her head in his arms and brought the water to her lips.

“I hope Geldis pays today. That would give us some more room to breathe.”

Rashkan watched as his mother eagerly drank the water. When she was done Dralas took a rag from the nightstand and wiped her mouth clean.

“Tell Mogrul to wait until later this evening. Geldis usually pays on time.”

“Fine, I’ll do that. Is there anything else you need?”

“No. Go now, don’t keep Mogrul waiting. We can’t afford having Slitter at our backs again”

Dralas placed the empty glass on the nightstand, grabbed his crutch, and hobbled towards the curtain.

Rashkan looked around and found the door almost shut behind him. Too narrow for him to fit through. He had to react quickly. Bedroll. Chimney. Bucket. No place to hide! He panicked and without thinking, turned into a swarm of bats and raced out through the hole in the roof. Rashkan sincerely hoped that nobody saw him when he turned back into a dunmer, but the lack of screams calling for his death reassured him of the fact. Dralas appeared in the doorway not a second too soon and Rashkan tried his hardest to look as inconspicious as he could. Yes, those were some truly pathetic ash yams.

“Sorry for the wait”, Dralas slightly bowed his head.

“All is well”, assured Rashkan, his gaze still fixed on the yams. “As I said, I cannot change the past, but I can try making up for it. Please, allow me to atone. Allow me to help you get this place back into shape.”

Dralas took a few steps forward.

“Look at me”, he commanded. His gaze was cold and piercing.

“We don’t need your money, Rashkan. We don’t need your money and we don’t need you! I haven’t had a brother for 50 years and as far as I’m concerned, I don’t have one now.”

Rashkan wanted to answer, to say something – anything really, but the words got stuck in his throat and mingled with the rising bile. He clenched his fists and for the blink of an eye, he thought about punching Dralas straight in the nose. How could he possibly say something like that?!?

“Fine!”, spat Rashkan. “Then keep worrying about the next meal, keep the hole in your roof – I’m sure you’ll love the ash falling into your home-, and keep waiting for the next payment. I’m sure Mogrul will be most understanding.”

Dralas’ eyes widened. He was shaking. “Get lost”, he clenched his fist around his crutch until his knuckles turned white. Rashkan did not move.

“I said: Get lost!”, he screamed, raising his crutch to hit Rashkan - who effortlessly dodged the attack. Dralas crashed to the ground. Rashkan held out his hand to help his brother back on his feet but Dralas swatted it away.

“Go Rashkan. Just get lost”, he winced. His voice was quiet and Rashkan could have sworn that his tone betrayed a hint of sadness.

Rashkan closed his eyes and sighed.

“It was nice seeing you again”, he said, turned around and walked away. Back towards Raven Rock.

How could he?

Rashkan was fuming. He quickened his pace, his eyes fixed on the ground before him.

How dare he???

“Rashkan? Is that you?”

Rashkan stopped dead in his tracks. He glanced up… and into the eyes of a man he had not seen in 50 years. His face looked haggard and his sweaty grey hair clung to his forehead. His face was riddled with deep lines and creases. His eyes, however, -while tired- beamed with hope.

“I am sorry, but you are mistaken. I have never heard that name before”, he said flatly as he watched that hope die a slow, painful death.

Before his father could say anything, Rashkan had already turned around and hurried towards the harbour.

#Elder Scrolls #The Elder Scrolls #Skyrim #OC #OC focused fanfic #Rashkan Atheron #my scribbles #fanfic #skyrim oc fanfic

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magicalwardrobe-mw · 5 years

Text

There Are Stars In Your Eyes: Newcomer

Summary: Walburga Black hadn't expected yet another pregnancy so late in life. Sirius and Regulus loved their sister to death anyway.

Rating: T (because I’m a bit paranoid).

You can also find it on AO3 or FF.

I hope you like it!

Newcomer.

It is a known fact that wizards live a lot longer than ordinary muggles. They age slower than them and it can be over eighty years before one starts looking really old.

But still, a pregnancy at almost forty-seven was a bit too much for Walburga Black.

Sure, it was a bit of a boost for her ego. She was still fertile, still young in the eyes of society.

And, since the rumours had spread all through the higher circles of the pureblood society before she even stepped one foot out of San Mungo’s with the news, she couldn’t get rid of the baby. It would cause a lot of talk. More than it was already happening.

So the baby was happening.

Walburga wasn’t the first woman to have a baby at such an “advanced” age (she had glared at the healer when he had dared to utter that dreadful word). Even there had been some cases with muggle women. And being a witch there should be a lot less risk during her pregnancy than the ones of those women.

But that didn’t mean she was happy about it. She had already had more than enough with her two other pregnancies (when she was on her thirties) to enjoy a repeat.

They told the boys once Sirius Orion, her eldest, got back from Hogwarts. Orion had calmly sprouted the news at dinner and Sirius Orion had almost chocked on his potato.

He had been understandingly repulsed by the thought. After all, at eleven, he already knew where babies came from and was very repulsed to learn that his parents were still doing it.

Regulus Arcturus had been happy for the first few seconds until confusion kicked in. He had turned ten only some weeks ago and had yet to be corrupted by the educative talks around the halls of Hogwarts.

(His brother was quick to explain him the concept that night in his room. Orion had been very amused at his youngest son’s expression of utter disgust at breakfast next morning).

Orion envied his sons, as they spent the worst months of their mother’s pregnancy hiding away in the big castle in the hills of Scotland.

Meanwhile he was suffering the pregnancy as if he was the one with the baby inside.

He was sure Walburga hadn’t been so unbearable on her earliest pregnancies. If he had known this would happen he would have stayed far away from her in bed.

On a late January night at last his new offspring was born. Walburga had refused to go to the hospital like ‘all those common women’ and so she had an army of midwives fluttering around in her room the moment the first contraction hit.

One of the youngest midwives, barely out of the program herself, carried the baby to her father’s arms.

“We almost lost them both,” she said. “But I managed to convince the others to use a muggle method that saved them,” her expression was sheepish. “I know how your wife is about these things but could you maybe keep it to yourself? I’m just telling you because I know Healer Burke will want to tell you later and I don’t want you to freak out.”

And then she deposited the baby (“it’s a girl, sir”) in his arms and Orion couldn’t be mad at her. The sigh of his daughter cute button nose melted his heart.

“Don’t worry,” he looked up at the young woman. “I won’t breathe a word.”

The girl grinned with relief. “Great! Now I have to help stitch up your wife before she wakes up!”

His eyebrows rose at the word ‘stitch’ and the woman merely shrugged with a soft blush on her cheeks. “It looks like I owe you a debt for saving both my wife’s and my daughter’s life,” he said. “What’s your name?”

“Oh! I’m Dahlia Blishwick,” her eyes were wide. “But you don’t owe me anything. I was just doing my job, sir.”

Orion nodded once but he mentally took note of the name: Dahlia Blishwick. He would remember that.

“It’s almost weird for you to get a letter from your family that is not a howler,” noted James Potter eyeing the piece of paper with curiosity.

“What does it say?” wondered Peter Pettigrew.

Remus Lupin shushed them both. “Maybe if you let him read it he’ll tell us.”

The letter wasn’t that long, only a few sentences, and Sirius was quick to read them. Slowly his lips curled into a small smile that had his friends looking worried.

“He must have gone crazy,” Peter muttered. After all they all knew Sirius’ relationships with his family were strained at best and didn’t understand how a letter would make him smile.

“Maybe his mother is dead?” James suggested gaining an elbow to the ribs courtesy of Remus.

After a few more seconds of silence, James prompted the other boy with a kick to the shin. Sirius glared at him.

“So?” Peter asked. “What does it say?”

Sirius grinned again. “I have a little sister,” he said. “Which is great because now I have won a bet with Reg,” at Remus deadpan expression he quickly added: “And I’m happy to have a sister, you know? Because sisters are nice and stuff.”

Remus sniggered. “«Because sisters and nice and stuff»” he repeated. “I am so going to write that on your grave.”

“Now you’re already killing me off?”

James grinned. “Well… there are some days…”

Sirius threw a spoonful of cereal soggy with milk at James’ glasses.

The first time Regulus saw his little sister she wasn’t so little anymore. At five months old she was a pudgy… thing with huge grey-blue eyes, a tuft of black hair and the happiest smile always on her face.

Little Cassiopeia, although Sirius had taken to calling her Cassia, was the happiest baby Regulus had ever seen. She was always laughing at the silly faces he made (a pretty contagious laugh) or, otherwise, smiling. She hardly cried, though Kreacher was there if it happened, and loved to be picked up.

As it seemed she was the un-Black-iest baby he had ever seen.

Maybe it was just because she was a baby, but from his mother’s frown he knew neither he nor Sirius had been such happy toddlers.

But Regulus loved little Cassia more than he loved anything in life. He loved how she gurgled at him with her arms wide open asking for him to pick her up. And how she smiled at the sight of him and laughed when he tickled her belly.

Regulus often wondered how something so small could change one’s life that much.

When Sirius got into Gryffindor he knew a huge rift in the family had been made. And his suspicions were confirmed when he came home with thousands of tales of James and Remus and Peter. He could see Sirius drifting away from him and it only deepened when he got sorted into Slytherin.

How dare he look disappointed? He was the one not to stick into tradition! Regulus should be the one to be disappointed.

But Sirius looked at him with disappointment and pity when he went to sit with his new house. Like he had done something wrong. As if Regulus had… deceived him.

But with Cassia… with Cassia he had a new chance. He would start over without making the same mistakes. He would love her unconditionally, no matter where she ended up.

He wouldn’t let Houses ruin that relationship, too.

Cassia cooed at him from her crib and Regulus smiled softly. “Hey, do you want to play?”

No, he wouldn’t mess it up this time.

Sirius was sick of his family. He was sick of the judgemental stares and his mother’s scoffs. He was sick of the pureblood propaganda and the way her mother looked down at him.

As if he was less for thinking of muggleborns as equals.

As if he was wrong.

The only thing that kept him tethered to that horrible house was his sister. His sweet, innocent and kind little sister with wide open eyes and a heart bigger than the world.

Everything went to hell the summer after his fifth year, over dinner one evening.

“Siri, Siri,” Cassia tugged on his sleeve. “Sit with me,” she begged.

“How can I refuse?” Sirius grinned at her and tried not to feel anything at Regulus betrayed expression. Cassia was his sister, too, and he loved her with all his soul.

Cassia looked up at him. “Read me a bedtime story?” she asked.

“After dinner, little star,” he conceded.

And she smiled at him, little dimples appearing on her cheeks and making his heart melt.

But then their mother had to intervene and bring the matter of blood purity to the table. She said she was worried about what Sirius might be teaching her and didn’t want him to lead her astray.

And that was when Sirius finally snapped: the previous weeks, hell, even the previous years, becoming far too much for him.

So Sirius screamed and his mother screeched back. Their father shouted at them both while Regulus tried to take Cassia to a safe place. Walburga got out her wand and started firing curses at her eldest son while exclaiming he was only «just like the rest of them».

And so Sirius stormed off the house with only his wand on his hand and a handful of coins on his back pocket. He hailed the Knight Bus and disappeared in the night to never look back.

A couple of weeks later an owl knocked on Regulus window in the middle of the night. It carried a small package for Cassia and a short note asking Regulus to give it to her.

Despite the bitterness he felt for his brother, Regulus conceded.

Dahlia Blishwick was twenty-six when Orion Black asked her to tutor his daughter, the one she had helped bring to the world over four years earlier.

“Mr. Talbot,” he said. “my sons tutor, died last year and Walburga says it would be best if Cassiopeia has a woman as a governess.”

“But,” Dahlia was at a loss on what to say. You do not say ‘no’ to the Lord of the Noble and Ancient House of Black. “I already have a job, sir,” she said politely. “And aren’t I too young? I think maybe you should be looking for someone older, more experienced in these things.”

But Orion Black just shook his head. “I think you can teach my daughter a lot more than those old ladies ever could. You’ve gotten far on your own, haven’t you?” he said. “I think my daughter will need that in the years to come.”

“But my job…”

Orion Black sighed. “Look, we’ll pay you the double if you want. You don’t even have to be all day with her, just some mornings or afternoons, whatever you choose. Teach her how to read, write, some maths and the way the world works as unbiasedly as possible.”

Dahlia stared at him open mouthed.

“I have a son on either side of the war,” he said with a tired smile. “I know only one of them will come out of this alive. I’d like my daughter to be able to make the best choice; not because of what her family says, but because it’s what she believes in. I want her to be able to make the right decision and stick with it,” he waved his hand in her direction. “Your family is still pure-blood, even if you’ve fallen a little since the old days, but it will be enough to content my wife. So,” he straightened in the chair of the hospital cafeteria. “What do you say?”

Dahlia had been given a choice. To help a little girl make the best of her life.

“I guess I’ll have to talk with my boss.”

And that was how she found herself as the new tutor of the youngest Black child.

When Cassia turned six she got lots of presents, like all her birthdays before, but only one she treasured greatly. It was a well-read copy of Miss Dahlia’s favourite book when she was a child: Her Handsome Hero.

Miss Dahlia had read most of it to her in their classes, or had made her read it. It told the tales of a brave hero named Gideon and in its pages was underlined the importance of compassion, kindness and forgiveness.

Cassia hadn’t known it at that time, but that book probably saved her life.

Miss Dahlia was a nice lady and Cassia liked her very much. Her lessons were fun and she learnt a lot. Miss Dahlia liked to tell stories about her job or books she had read. She told her about her girlfriend –a muggle teacher– and made her promise to keep the secret.

Mrs. Pyrites wasn’t such a nice lady. She taught her manners, politics, dancing, how to play the piano and French. She smelled old and would pinch her arm with her nails when she thought Cassia was doing something wrong.

And for Mrs. Pyrites Cassia even breathed wrong.

“You don’t want the whole room to know when you’re inhaling and exhaling. Keep it to yourself. Short breaths for ladies.”

No, Cassia didn’t like Mrs. Pyrites at all.

But the book wasn’t the only gift Cassia loved. Even if her brothers were at Hogwarts they both had sent owls with their gifts (Sirius’ sneaking in the middle of the night so her parents wouldn’t notice).

Regulus had bought her almost half a year’s supply of Sugar Quills, Cassia’s favourite food in the whole wide world, that had her running the house on a sugar high almost each night for the next months.

Sirius, on the other hand, had woken her up the second the clock had struck twelve, thanks to the magic mirror he had given her once he left home. He had another one that connected the pair and they could keep in contact, for Sirius refused to be cut out from his sister’s life and leave her to perish with his family. His three friends had joined him on his rendition of Happy Birthday to his sister that got the desired result: make her laugh.

Since he also knew she liked books about adventure he had also gifted her one copy of a muggle book «the Evans girl» had highly recommended; The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe.

Cassia had loved it and she hid it under her mattress next to Her Handsome Hero. Although she was sure Kreacher, who was the only one allowed in her room, didn’t care much for books.

Which was a shame because Cassia knew how great books were.

Regulus was trying to teach his sister how to play chess when his whole world came to a halt. It was a hot July afternoon and they were on the playing room, with some cooling charms to make it bearable.

“And Father was so happy I could finally block him out we went out for dinner at The Siren’s Song just the two of us,” Cassia leaned in and whispered the next part. “He even let me eat the chop with my hands!”

Regulus widened his eyes in mock surprise. “He did?”

“Yes!” the seven-year-old was unaware of her brother’s teasing. “Kreek wasn’t very happy when he saw the dress he had to clean, though,” she added looking down at the chessboard with shame.

Regulus lips twitched. “I bet he wouldn’t. Did he start muttering to himself?”

She grinned. “He did! He got quiet and all red and everything when I told him I was sorry he had to work more because of me,” her eyes twinkled. “He always does,” she pressed her lips together deep in thought. “Where is he, by the way? He usually likes to sit with us when Mother and Father aren’t home.”

And Regulus didn’t blame him. They were, after all, the only ones who treated Kreacher like a living being. It made him feel angry.

“He’s doing some things for… a friend of mine,” Regulus stated carefully.

Regulus had joined the Death Eaters two years ago, feeling bold and proud of his choice. But his determination started to fade when he realized what kind of things his new friends were into. He started to feel trapped and the shame grew each time he was sent on a mission for those… people. And he didn’t want Cassia knowing any of that.

Cassia’s face fell. “Oh… And how long will he be gone?” her eyes light up again. “I don’t want to see Mother’s face if we make a mess in the kitchen trying to make dinner,” she paused. “Do you know how to cook?” she asked with curiosity.

But Regulus had stopped listening and instead looked at her with a worried frown on his face. “He probably should already have been back,” he said. “The Dark- My friend said it wouldn’t take long.”

Cassia felt a bubble of worry deep in her stomach. “Kreacher!” she called. “Kreacher come here!”

And the house elf appeared with a loud crack. He was wet and shivering. He laid curled into a ball on the floor, his hands pressed over his ears and muttering apologies and pleas to himself.

Regulus heart plummeted. “Cassia, go to your room!” he ordered.

“No!” the child fell to her knees and carefully touched Kreacher’s knee. “Kreek,” she said softly. “Kreek, you’re safe here, you can stop that.”

The elf stilled immediately and didn’t move. Cassia clearly panicked and she started shaking him. When Regulus caught her in his own arms to get her away from Kreacher she started trashing and screaming.

“Cassiopeia!” shouted Regulus. “Stop this! This isn’t helping anyone!”

“Let me go!” she screeched. “Can’t you see that he’s in pain?”

Regulus held her tighter. “Kreacher,” he said. “Please, breathe and tell us what happened.”

And the elf obeyed.

Kreacher was a good elf, yes he was. He obeyed the rules, didn't disrespect the Masters (except Master Sirius –oh, Mistress was so happy to see him go) and took care of the house and its inhabitants.

It was his job, what he was born to do.

But now... now Master Regulus wanted to take him back to the Horrible Cove and Kreacher was scared. He didn't like the Horrible Cove and the Dreadful Potion... Kreacher didn't want to drink it again.

Master Regulus had come to Kreacher’s cupboard in the middle of the night and ordered Kreacher to get ready to take him to that cove. Kreacher knew all Blacks liked their sleep and no one would catch them getting out of the house because the Masters were all sleeping deeply.

So Kreacher wasn't expecting little Mistress Cassiopeia to be waiting for him and Master Regulus at the bottom of the stairs.

"Cassia!" Master Regulus exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

Mistress Cassiopeia puffed her cheeks. "I'm coming with you," she stated.

Both Masters started to argue while Kreacher stared silently. In the end they glared at each other for a few moments until Mistress Cassiopeia, at last, relented.

"But you have to take this," she said giving them one of Mistress Walburga biggest handbags.

Master Regulus peered inside the bag and his lips twitched with amusement. "We aren't going camping, you know?" He reached inside the bag. "And what is this?" On his hand was a glass bottle of dark brown liquid.

Mistress Cassiopeia flushed. "It's a muggle drink," she said. "Miss Dahlia gets it for me. Sometimes... I just thought maybe you wouldn't feel like water so I grabbed both," and she seemed very proud by her occurrence.

Mister Regulus decided to humour his little sister and put the muggle drink back in the bag. "But you're staying here," he said. "Go back to sleep," he suggested.

Mistress Cassiopeia stared at him like he was a madman and Master Regulus snorted.

"Alright," he crouched and kissed her forehead. "I'll see you later. Come on, Kreacher. Take me to the cave!"

And Kreacher did.

Kreacher was shivering and trembling the whole time Master Regulus passed through the protections. Kreacher clutched at the sides of the boat so hard his knuckles turned grey and when he saw the pillar where he knew the Dreadful Potion was he almost passed out.

Kreacher was readying himself for another dose of the Dreadful Potion when Master Regulus spoke.

"Kreacher, I want you to make me drink the potion. Make me drink it no matter what I tell you and then... then grab the Hor-the locket and put this one instead," he deposited a nearly identical locket in the elf's fragile hands. "Then fill it again with the same potion and go back home and destroy the locket. Alright?"

Kreacher didn't want to do that. "Master Regulus..."

"I said ‘alright?’! I'm ordering you, Kreacher!"

Kreacher would have never said he'd ever hate being such a good elf.

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misssophiachase · 5 years

Photo

I'm so excited about the Jodice cons coming up this year, I felt the need to write a little FF based on them (kill me if it's more than 10 parts) leading up to June.

Synopsis: Actors Candice Accola and Joseph Morgan don't like each other at first but being forced to act together means they can't avoid the simmering attraction developing behind the scenes. Fast forward 8 years and they're due to appear in two fan conventions but given all the baggage and unresolved issues things aren't going to run as smoothly as organisers would hope.

Give Me Love

Part 1: Hello

“They say that time's supposed to heal you...But I ain't done much healing.”

June - 2019 - Los Angeles CA

What exactly do you say to the person who can see straight through you?

That was Candice's biggest challenge ahead of Bloody Night Con in seven days, not that she was counting. She hadn't seen Joseph in eighteen months and although he continued to plague her thoughts, at least she didn't have to actually converse with him. Talk about awkward if she did.

Hello and how are you didn't seem to cut it after all they'd been through together and apart the past eight years.

It was a cool, grey afternoon in Los Angeles, Candice was stretched out in the love seat by her window nursing a cup of herbal tea. In fact, it was French Earl Grey, something Joseph had introduced into her diet all those years ago. Something she couldn't quite let go of yet. If any ex-boyfriend had given or introduced her to anything it would find itself in the closest garbage bin straight after the break-up.

With him it was different.

The Chelsea FC jersey he gifted her still hung in the wardrobe (even though she supported Arsenal just to annoy him), his first edition copy of Great Expectations and the sketches he did while they holidayed in Saint Barts were housed in the den and the remnants of Acqua Di Gio hidden away in the bathroom cabinet.

Most people would put that down to forgetfulness. After all, you can't be expected to remember everything left over during a break-up. But Candice knew every single item and where they were, she just didn't want to part with them. Hence why Joseph Morgan was scattered all throughout her apartment to this day, not that she advertised the fact for obvious reasons.

She fingered the silver, antique locket around her neck. It was the last remaining piece of him and she liked to wear it close to her heart when she was alone. Not all the time but in moments of reflection. They were picnicking in Tuscany, their May birthdays only a few weeks apart, soaking up the wine, pasta and sunshine during a break in filming. He'd plucked the gift from what seemed like thin air, housed in a white box with a royal, blue ribbon. Her favourite colour.

The locket's exterior was flawless but the best was yet to come. She could still remember how he laid her against his chest as the sun set over the hills and told her the story of his grandparents who were split apart during the war and how they came back to each other again stronger and even more in love. The fact he'd placed their faded, black and white picture next to theirs in the locket was enough to cause a few tears and a thank you that lasted quite a few subsequent days in their hotel room.

He never asked for it back and Candice was glad he didn't. Maybe it was selfish but it just meant too much to return.

She picked up her phone, scrolling through her social media feed as she did so often. Candice knew that looking at her twitter feed was never a good idea. If she wanted a reminder of her relationship with Joseph it was plastered across her timeline on a daily basis. Granted the photos were either scenes they shared from the shows or creative fan edits but they all stirred the same feelings inside.

Candice didn't want to but she missed him. Still. She was happy his latest directorial foray into film had been such a success. If there was something Candice knew it was how good he was at directing people, she'd been one of his star performers in the bedroom after all.

Looking back, Candice would never forget the first time they met at the Craft Services table on set. It was season two of The Vampire Diaries and his character was cast as the big bad and from what Candice knew they wouldn't really have any scenes together but it didn't stop her from thinking he was all sorts of cute with that accent and those dimples.

February - 2011 - Atlanta, GA

"Did the new guy smirk at you?" Candice asked Kat earnestly.

They were in wardrobe after lunch break and she couldn't stop thinking about the way Joseph had been looking at her while they spoke. They'd just met so she thought it was strange, not to mention a little rude. Just because he had a gorgeous accent and lips the colour of deep crimson didn't give him the right to think he was God's greatest gift. Although Ian was an exact and nauseating replica of that, so why should she be surprised?

"I think he has a name, Candice." Kat mumbled from the corner where she was changing her top behind the makeshift screen.

"That's not the point."

"What do you mean smirk? He's always been perfectly polite and professional with me. What did he say anyway?"

"Wished me good afternoon and then I asked him how he's finding everything on set given he's just come onboard." They'd been shooting for the better part of the morning and the hungry hordes had made their way to the craft services table absolutely famished. Her eyes were firmly focused on the sushi, Candice was pretty certain she could have finished the entire plate on her own.

"Sounds pretty inoffensive, maybe that's just the way he smiles at people, did you ever think that?" Kat asked, finally emerging from changing her clothes for the next scene and looking at her curiously.

"You didn't see it, Kat," she sighed. "It was almost like..."

"He was trying not to laugh?"

"Excuse me?" Kat let out a giggle, moving closer and wiping her face with a tissue she'd swiped from the nearby table. "What are you doing?"

"You, uh, have some rice on your cheek," she smiled, knowingly.

"What?" She asked rubbing her face, slightly mortified.

"Seems like someone was trying to hide that fact and obviously it took the form of a smirk." Candice went from completely embarrassed to annoyed in seconds. How dare he do that?

"The least he could have done was say something rather than embarrass me like that in front of the cast and crew," she muttered.

"You just met the guy, he probably thought it wasn't polite to call you out about food on your face. It doesn't make for the easiest first conversation."

"Yet instead he was secretly laughing at me," she growled. "You know, I'm just happy that we don't have any scenes together because I'm not sure I could stand that smirk and those dimples from such a close proximity."

"Sounds like someone was paying an awful lot of attention to someone's dimples," she grinned. Candice didn't respond just busied herself for the next scene.

From then Candice made it her mission to steer clear of the new guy, until it became almost impossible to avoid him. That's what you got for being on a hit TV show and having to do publicity together. And there was no bigger publicity opportunity than the annual Comic Con in San Diego.

July - 2011 - San Diego, CA

This wasn't her first Comic Con, so it was going to be easy right? But apparently the powers above in the network decided to invite him along for the first time. Candice was generally very welcoming but she still wasn't quite sure what to think of their newest cast member.

Given he was pretty much the most evil character to hit the Vampire Diaries in its entire run so far, no one was expecting such a frenzied reception. Turns out a lot of the girls there seemed to have a thing for the bad guy. Candice really should have known.

She found herself looking across at Joseph at the signing table, his dark, blonde hair curled over his ears and that grey, fitted t-shirt highlighting his toned chest. He didn't scrub up too badly and it seemed like the screaming legions of female fans wholeheartedly agreed. Ever since their first meeting all those months ago they'd barely had any interaction, mainly because they didn't share any scenes.

After the craziness of 5000 screaming fans at the panel earlier in the day and a never ending number of interviews it was time for the after party, an opportunity to let loose and really enjoy themselves. Given they were all staying in the same hotel it seemed normal that they made their way together however for some reason it was just him and her crossing the street while surrounded by screaming photographers.

Candice was trying not to stare at just how adorable he looked in that suit while making sure her strapless, aqua dress was still in place as they walked brusquely to avoid the cameras. If there was one thing she knew about Joseph from their day at Comic Con it was just how overwhelmed he seemed to be around the press. For Candice it was actually refreshing given how arrogant some actors could be. Maybe she'd misjudged him?

One of the photographers got too close, knocking her slightly and Joseph reached forward without thinking. His hand grazed her lower back and Candice felt herself shiver slightly. "Are you okay, love?"

"Um, yeah, thanks," she mumbled, her gaze cast downwards. "It's uh just a little cold." She cursed inwardly thinking what a lame excuse it was. The one thing Candice knew without a doubt was that 90 degrees on a Summer night in San Diego wasn't in the least bit cold and she was sure he was aware of that fact.

"If I had a jacket I'd give it to you," he promised choosing to ignore her lie, steering her towards their destination. Maybe it wasn't the best look given the press would misconstrue anything but right now she didn't give a damn, it felt far too good having his hand on her back.

"Nice to see chivalry isn't completely dead," she smirked, and by his expression he couldn't miss the sarcastic tone in her voice.

"Is there something I'm missing?" Joseph murmured, trying to avoid the inquisitive stares of the reporters loitering close by. "You realise I'm a gentleman, right?"

"A gentleman who doesn't tell a girl she has rice stuck to her cheek?"

"I didn't want to be rude," he insisted, his cheeks colouring slightly with embarrassment. She'd never admit it aloud but it was pretty cute.

"Trust me, Morgan, a girl needs to know these things even if she barely knows you."

"Noted, Accola," he grinned.

"Um, we're here," she said, gesturing towards the hotel where the party was being held. "You can let go of me now." As soon as Candice said it she regretted it as he lifted his hand from her lower back. She gave him a thankful smile and breezed into the party like the professional actress she was. But she'd be lying if she couldn't still feel the residual heat on her back.

October - 2011 - Atlanta, GA

"Social media is going to go nuts," Candice murmured, laying herself out on the bed. "You know if it's anything like the response from you putting your hand on my back at Comic Con in July."

"I was only trying to protect you," he replied, flashing her one of his winning smiles.

They were currently at the Forbes house ready to film their second ever scene together. Candice would be lying if it wasn't a big moment for her. She'd always been able to hide her attraction for him because they didn't share any scenes, well until now that was. Now she had to be in close proximity and in a bed of all things. She wasn't quite sure what the writers were getting at given she'd been so hot and heavy with Michael's character Tyler lately.

"Funnily enough I didn't need protection and we both know that," she smirked. "I really should have known Klaus would order Tyler to bite me only to ride in on his horse and save the day."

"I think you've misjudged Klaus, he really can be a nice guy," he offered, winking in her direction. "Speaking of which, I better go wrangle my horse in anticipation."

Candice would be lying if she didn't think he was cute. She'd been so quick to write him off as one of your typical, egotistical actors she came across daily (not naming any names of course) but he had this adorable wit that she couldn't quite resist. Ever since he'd placed his hand on her back in July she'd been a little distracted by those lips and those damn dimples too.

Candice was an actor first and foremost and the scene played out exactly as planned but she couldn't deny just how good it felt to have his body pressed up against hers in bed as she pretended to drink from his wrist. His chest seemed so much more toned than she'd imagined and the smell of his spicy aftershave was definitely causing a few foreign feelings to take over. It was all done in one take, unheard of but Candice knew their underlying chemistry had definitely played its part in creating such a perfect scene.

"Don't worry I'm not counting," he smiled rising from the bed, as the crew moved away in preparedness for the next scene.

"I'm sorry?"

"You know the number of times I've saved you."

"Oh p-uh-lease," she groaned, rolling her eyes as she did. Candice was finding it more and more difficult not to act on her burgeoning feelings for him and she secretly hoped they got more time to spend with each other on set as an excuse.

TBC...On FF HERE

Fun Real Life Fact: Joseph first saw Candice at the craft services table with rice on her face

#give me love #misssophiachase #klaroline fan fiction #jodice #klaroline

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ifreakinglovewritingsomuch · 6 years

Text

Changlix AU / Break The Silence (Part Sixteen)

Pairings: Seo Changbin x Lee Felix, Bang Chan x Kim Woojin, Lee Minho x Han Jisung, Kim Seungmin x Hwang Hyunjin, ft. Yang Jeongin Plot: Chan finally sees no other chance to rebel against the system, even though he knows that he can get into trouble once again, losing the person he loves a second time. But he has to risk it! Felix ha no clue what the strange package in front of his house is meant to be, but when he follows the clues it leads him to a conspiracy he never wanted to be part of. (SiFi!Au, Futuristic!AU) Warnings: Angst maybe, but nothing really bad, I guess…alos a little blood… Words: 2016 Part One/Two/Three/Four/Five/Six/Seven/Eight/Nine/Ten/Eleven/Twelve/Thirteen/Fourteen/Fifteen…

A/N: So this is the last chapter. I kinda proud that I was able to finish such a long FF. And to be honest I loved writing this. I hope I can redeem myself with this chapter. And pls tell me, guys, if you want an epilogue?

"Why didn't you tell me?" Chan is furious, he feels betrayed, but he knows that the other's probably have their reasons.

"Chan. Please calm down." The leader says, looking at him apologetically.

"Tell me about it." The younger demands, remaining stubborn, even though he sees Bambam's pleading look to let it go.. "I deserve to know the truth."

Jaebum takes a deep breath. "We have a plan B, in case something goes wrong." He doesn't want to tell the younger, but he knows that it's only egoistic.

"Why can't you just tell me what plan B is about?!"

"We have been in contact with someone outside Korea." Jaebum sees how realization hit's Chan. "They get people out of here."

"But no one survives that?"

"At least that's what the government, wants us to believe. Why should they tell us about the people escaping? They make it sound as if there is no chance to get out of here, but that's not the truth." Bambam explains, like everyone he feels the guilt as well.

"And why didn't you tell me then?" Chan can't quite understand their motives, the whole situation is just weird.

"The only got 8 places. We would have to leave one person behind."

"Woojin?"

"You know that he is not ready to leave Seoul. He still has his family." Jae tries to reason.

"But why couldn't you tell me!?"

"We didn't want you to have to choose. Between Woojin and...freedom. I guess we just hoped everything will go as planned and that plan B is not an option." Jinyoung knows how hard it would be for the younger. He had to choose too and the decision hurts every damn day.

"I see..." Chan mumbles, suddenly hoping he wouldn't have asked.

"We need someone to stay here and try again if we fail..."

"I'll stay."

"Let me finish." Jaebum calmly says. "To prevent them from chasing us, we have to make them believe that we are no longer danger to their system."

"Fake our deaths?"

"Exactly. No one can know that we are still alive. Not Woojin. Not our family and friends. We truly have to be dead to them." Chan feels how dry his throat is and his heart hurts. "So Woojin has to believe I'm dead...?"

No one wants to answer, but a silent nod is enough for Chan to understand.

"Will I ever see you guys again?"

"I promise you, Chan. We will come back for you." Bambam immediately answers, embracing his friend. "We will always be there for each other."

Chan still tries to get over what just happened. They all know how dangerous their plan is and the thought of plan B happening feels terrifying to the young boy. He will lose everyone that means something to him. The whole team. They will be away somewhere safe. But the worst is Woojin. He will break the older's heart, making him believe that he is dead. But it would be too dangerous for the older to know the truth. Chan knows that he can't take Woojin with him for the last mission. The older would probably be caught and then be the last one of a terrorist group that survived. He promised Woojin to meet today, probably the last time they will see each other for a long time. Chan will definitely try again carrying out their mission, even though he has to wait a few years to be safe.

"Chan." He looks up his gaze meeting Jinyoung's, he can see the pain in the elder's eyes. "I'm sorry..."

"It's okay." He assures the other. "Let's just hope that we won't need plan B."

"Yeah, I guess." Jinyoung laughs dryly. "But in case...You know at my education home there is a boy, he is barely a kid. Hwang Hyunjin. I know it will destroy him when I leave..." The older wasn't able to keep his tears in anymore.

"But it's too dangerous for him to go with me. Please, Chan. Can you keep an eye on him, for me?"

"Of course."

"He is like a little brother to me." Jinyoung smiles. "I need to know that he will be okay after I leave." Chan nods, understanding the older's misery.

"I'll be there for him."

"Thank you." Jinyong hugs the younger. "We all will see each other again."

*Flashback over*

A loud crash makes Felix wake up, the first thing he sees is Changbin crouched down in his cell, trying to get a look down the hall.

"What was that?" The younger asks, but Changbin has no answer to the question.

Felix screeches, when suddenly a dark figure appears in front of their prison cells, a weapon in their hand. The whole face is hidden under a mask, making the person seem scary. Felix holds his breath, looking back at the person, who remains in front of his glass wall. Suddenly the figure aims the gun at him, making Felix back up, hiding behind the small desk in his cell. He can hear Changbin scream, begging them to leave Felix. The next thing they both hear is a loud crash and the glass chatters down. The young boy only waits for the next shot, but nothing happens. He slowly looks up seeing that the figure has turned around this time aiming at Changbin's cell. The older has hidden as well. Felix quickly stands up trying to reach the soldier, before he can shoot at the boy he loves, but he is too late and the glass shatters. Again no second shot. The person motions for them to follow him and slowly they do as told, not knowing what the hell is going on. The walk through the station, passing limp bodies lying on the floor. Passed out soldiers and police officers. Is someone really saving them?

"Jaebum?" Felix looks up, seeing the figure, probably a man, at least considering his deep voice, talking into a headset. "They are safe. I'll meet up with you guys now."

Jeongin waits for the pain, for the darkness. But he feels nothing. Slowly he looks up at the person holding him. The gun isn't pointed at him anymore. The dark figure has shot in the opposite direction, harming one of the soldiers, that has come to close.

"Who are you?" Chan asks, still in shock. But the person doesn't answer, finally realising Jeongin, who immediately stumbles towards his friends.

"Who are you?" Chan asks again. "Why are you helping us?" Jeongin's blood freezes, when the person starts to laugh, before slowly reaching for their mask.

"Don't say you already forgot about me."

"Bambam?"

"It's good to see you, Chan." The leader can feel how finally all the excuses and pain kicks in, making him stumble, but Bambam catches him. "I promised to come back, didn't I?" Chan only nods.

"I would really like to catch up with you, but right now, we have to get out of here." Bambam mumbles, while helping Chan up supporting him.

"A few feet away from here is a door, leading to a ladder. We can get out there, through a drain." Woojin only nods, speechless at seeing the other. He doesn't understand. They all died, didn't they?

"It's also good to see you, Woojin."

"Don't dare to die now," Jinyoung mumbles, quickly stitching Hyunjin up, who is lying on one of the benches. The whole time Seungmin refuses to move, holding the older's hand. After all, he doesn't know Jinyoung and he isn't going to leave the other alone with a stranger.

"Who are you?" Seungmin asks, watching closely how the older treats the wounds.

"Park Jinyoung." Is the short answer he gets.

"But...? Like..."

"I know we owe you all a lot of explanation, but we have time for that later, for now. I have to help Hyunjin." Seungmin nods.

"The other's will be here soon." Another person appears from the cockpit, looking worriedly at Hyunjin.

"Is he okay?"

"He will be alright, get back, Jackson. We have to be ready any minute." Said person nods, doing as told by Jinyoung.

"Was he talking about the other members?"

"He was, my men, are taking care of them." It's the first time the man standing in the corner watching them, speaks up. Seungmin has the feeling he is the leader, at least that's how it seems.

"Don't worry, they all will be here soon."

Minho wants to cry. Not because of the way his legs hurt. Not because of what they just went through. He wants to cry because he is sitting here. Safe. At the side of the person, he loves the most. Because he has the feeling that for once everything will be alright.

They are all here. The whole group, sitting exhausted on the benches in the small shuttle. Hyunjin has woken up, already talking to Jinyoung, while holding onto Seungmin's hand. The younger has never looked that happy. Maybe he should be angry or feel betrayed. After all, he mourned over Jinyoung for five years. But he is feeling so much joy inside, that those years of waiting and feeling abandoned seem to be worth it.

Jeongin is already asleep, sitting in between Woojin and Chan, who smile at each other. There are at the same point as they should have been five years ago. Bambam has kept his promise. They all have. They would never leave someone of the group behind. After all, they are a family. And family means no one gets left behind.

"How did you guys even know that we needed help?" Chan asks, looking up at his old friend, who leans against Yugyeom.

"We have our contact inside Seoul. When we heard what happened to Changbin and Felix, we immediately decided to come. No matter what risks it would take. I'm sorry, Chan for taking so long."

"Don't feel sorry. You're here now."

"We will cross the border now." Jackson's voice interrupts the comfortable silence.

"We're safe now." He adds, smiling at Mark sitting beside him.

Minho's smiles as well, playing against Jisung, who brushes with his thump over the older's hand. It might be hard to believe that they are safe, after so many things they have been through. After a life under oppression.

"Where are we going?" Jisung asks, looking at the group that has saved them.

"Somewhere safe," Youngjae answers him.

"I know it's hard to leave your home behind, but it's the best for now."

"Maybe we all will come back one day." The older leader adds.

"Maybe it didn't seem like it, but you guys succeeded. The system might maybe change. So many people are finally listening, screaming for justice. There are many civilians, but also some in the government that won't close their eyes towards the injustice anymore. You all did it!"

Felix can feel himself smiling. They did it! He would have never imagined that it all would go this way. He is leaving his family and home behind. Wait no he isn’t. His family are the other members and his home is everywhere Changbin is.

"What are you thinking about?" Changbin chuckles, peeking his cheek, making the younger blush.

"I...I just never have been that happy in my life."

"Are you about to cry?"

"Maybe..." Changbin smiles, cuddling against his boyfriend.

"You're really cute."

Felix only rolls his eyes, but he smiles at his boyfriend.

"I know that you're just as emotional as I'm."

"Probably, true." The older admits, giggling.

"I love you, Felix." He looks up, their eyes meeting, filled with love and adoration for each other.

"I love you, too." Felix leans down for a short kiss, before closing his eyes. Changbin cuddled against him. Felix feels free, safe, a feeling that has been uncommon for most of his life. He doesn't miss what he left behind. Because everything he needs is in this shuttle, flying somewhere, where he can be himself. Where they all can be themselves and live their lives.

Felix has been alive for some years now, but the first time he really felt like he is living.

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everlastingcaptainswan · 6 years

Text

Seven Encounters (8/8)

Epilogue

Summary: It took seven times for Emma Nolan to realize she loved His Royal Highness Prince Killian, but it only took him two times to realize he would chase her to the ends of this earth.

AO3 FF

Months later…

In this large house one would think there would be good heating, but certain rooms are more drafty than others, which leaves Emma’s feet freezing cold. She shuffles up to their room and roots around in Killian’s sock drawer. His socks are much warmer and thicker than hers, he won’t mind too much if she steals a pair of his. Well he might mind a little bit, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Her hand brushes against something that is most definitely not a sock. Her fingers wrap around a small velvet box. She pulls it out and examines the box.

She knows exactly what this is. Just as she’s about to open it the door swings open and she turns to face Killian, who stops dead in his tracks once he sees what she’s holding.

“Is this…” she asks keeping the box closed for now.

“Aye, why don’t you open it?” He says as he nervously scratches behind his ear. She smiles at his little nervous tick, it’s just another thing she loves about him. She opens the box and inside is beautiful elegant diamond on silver band with a ruby on either side of the diamond. She looks back up at him and finds he’s down on one knee.

“You know I had a big proposal planned. A nice dinner and flowers, the works, but I suppose I should’ve known you’d find it with how much you steal my socks,” he teases and she laughs, “I think I loved you the moment we met and I want to keep loving you for the rest of our days. I’ll even let you steal my socks whenever you want. Will you marry me?”

“Of course, but only for the socks,” she teases, tears pooling in her eyes. He growls and pulls her into his arms for a deep, passionate kiss. When they pull apart their foreheads rest against one another.

“Well not just the socks, it just so happens that I love you too,” she smiles and he kisses her once more. He slips the ring on her finger and it fits perfectly.

Almost a year later…

The warm sun beats down and it feels wonderful on Emma’s back. She opens one of her eyes looking at her husband’s empty lounge chair. Emma sits up looking for him, she sees him swimming in the ocean and she leans back in the chair.

Her husband is His Royal Highness Prince Killian and it still surprises her. Of course their wedding was quite the affair, Emma didn’t really care though. She just wanted to marry him, she wore whatever she was told and let the wedding planner go crazy with the flowers and whatever else she wanted. There was so much Royal Protocol to follow, so she did as she was told. All that mattered to her was her white dress and the fact that Killian was waiting for her at the end of the aisle.

Aside from saying I do and kissing the love of her life one of the most memorable moments was her mother’s speech at the reception.

“When these two first met I told my husband that our daughter was going to be a princess, which he was doubtful of and I can’t say I blame him, but as usual I was right. Her title is different, but essentially I was right. With some couples it’s evident to see that their meant to be, Killian and Emma are one of those couples. I wish both of you all the happiness in the world,” The President says with tears in her eyes as she raises her glass.

They wait to get married until Emma finished her masters program, so they had a long engagement. Her graduation was two months ago and now on they’re on their honeymoon on a private island in Fiji, something Killian insisted on, something about being away from the eyes of the press. She just wanted somewhere with a beach, but she was happy the press wasn’t here to document their every move. They needed alone time and that’s what they got.

She spies him out swimming in the ocean she leaves her hat on her lounge chair and heads out to meet him. He spots her on her track down from the chair and swims out to meet her.

“Hmm, darling did you have a good nap?” he smirks pulling her into his arms, kissing her cheek.

“I did, the water feels good though,” she hums.

“I know something else that feels good,” he tells her before kissing her neck.

“Hmm do you now? And what would that be?” she teases him, feigning innocence.

“You know how to wound a man’s ego, love,” he says playfully, knowing she knows exactly what he’s referring to.

“I think my husband can handle it,” she winks. Under the water his hand grasps her ass. She gives him a curious look when she feels him harden.

“Here?” she asks, looking around. He trails kisses down her neck and on hand slipping beneath her bikini top, making her gasp.

“Why do you think I requested a private island?” he asks, his eyes full of lust.

“I think you should show me why you did such a thing,” her hand grazing over the bulge in his swim trunks.

“With pleasure,” he growls.

--&---

Emma loves him and Killian loves her and she never thought she could be this happy. Well that’s what she thought until a few months after her honeymoon. She has to run to the bathroom several mornings at the museum before Belle, her new co-worker and friend, says something.

“Emma, I know you’re a smart women, so please tell me you at least know what this is,” Belle says with an eyebrow raised when Emma comes out of the bathroom for the third time this week.

“I’m sorry what? The smell of the paint was just getting to me, it’s nothing,” Emma shakes her head, they head back to their stations. Belle gives her an incredulous glare.

“Emma, when was your last period?” Belle whispers. That definitely throws Emma for a loop. Why on earth would she ask such a thing? Then she counts backwards and when she realizes what Belle is getting at, her eyes widen.

“I-um well, I’m not sure. Oh fuck,” she says realizing just how late she is.

“Breathe, look let’s just get you to a doctor. I’m sure there’s someone you call right?” Belle asks her and Emma nods. She knows there’s some doctor the royal family trusts. Emma grabs her phone and tells the receptionist on the other end that she just isn’t feeling well and was wondering if the doctor could come by that night. The chirpy girl tells her that is definitely possible and to expect him. She hangs up and looks at Belle.

“I mean have you two talked about…” Belle trails off.

“We want them and we’ve talked about them in a vague sense, but we weren’t trying or anything,” she says releasing a breathe she wasn’t sure she was holding.

“It’s a good thing then,” her friend smiles and so does Emma, “Are you going to call him?”

“Not until I see the doctor, he’s off with the King on some diplomatic trip or another. I don’t want to worry him if it turns out to be nothing,” she says shaking her head. They return to their work. She doesn’t want to go to him on some half cocked theory and get his hopes up. She’s seen him with Liam and Elsa’s little girl and he’s so good with her. He’d be crushed if he thought she was pregnant and it turns out she’s not. Pregnant. There’s a very definite possibly she is pregnant. It’s scary if she’s being honest.

The rest of the day she throws herself into her work, hoping that it will keep her distracted. It doesn’t, but she couldn’t be more glad when the day ends. Belle gives her a smile as they walk out.

“Promise to let me know how it goes?” she asks and Emma smiles.

“Of course, thank you for everything,” she chuckles before they part ways. August and Graham not far behind her. She may be married to a Prince, but her father insisted on her still having Secret Service protection, who he trusted more than any Royal protection. Killian and his family didn’t make a single objection, knowing better than to mess with a father’s wishes when it came to his daughter.

The whole ride home she fidgeting and nervous. None of that is made any better when Elsa and her daughter, Lizzie (full name Elizabeth) are waiting for her. Emma forgot she was having a quiet dinner with the two tonight.

“You forgot, didn’t you?” Elsa smirks and Emma sighs.

“Yes, I did. I’m sorry, just been a little distracted. Stay though,” she pleads and her sister in law just smiles, shifting Lizzie from one arm to another. Emma’s lady in waiting knocks and comes in unsure.

“Your Majesty, Your Highness,” she curtseys, “The doctor is here for you, Your Highness,” she says. This night could not go any worse for Emma truly.

“Are you not feeling well?” Elsa asks, concerned.

“Tell the doctor I’ll be there in a moment,” Emma tells the girl, who leaves them be, “I feel fine, I- well. I mean I’m not sure.” Emma panics a little bit.

“Emma, breathe. What’s going on?” Elsa asks her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“I think I’m pregnant, but I don’t know for sure. That’s why the doctor’s here,” Emma spits out. Elsa doesn’t hide her shock.

“Oh I didn’t know you two were trying,” she says quietly.

“We weren’t,” Emma tells her, feeling a little guilty.

“No judgement at all. I mean you know that Lizzie wasn’t exactly planned. Come on, you need to see a doctor,” she encourages Emma.

“You can go home. I’ve ruined our plans for the night,” Emma says as they walk out of the room.

“Nonsense, you’re family. Besides Killian isn’t here, you’ll want someone with you,” she smiles. The doctor is nice enough, Emma’s never met him before.

“So my receptionist said you haven’t been feeling well, what seems to be the problem?” he asks Emma.

“I think I’m pregnant,” she tells him. He barely blinks an eye before asking his next question.

“When was your last menstrual cycle?”

“A little over two months ago,” she says thinking back. He nods.

“Alright I’m going to draw some blood and then we’re taking an ultrasound,” he tells her.

“What? Here? Now? Isn’t it a little early” Emma asks shocked and Elsa chuckles at her reaction.

“Yes, I have a portable one here with me. No, it’s not too early. It will give us a quick confirmation,” the doctor explains calmly. Emma takes a deep breathe, nodding. He draws the blood quickly. The ultrasound doesn’t take long and sure enough she’s pregnant. A tiny little blob (he assures her that is indeed her baby) showing on the screen.

“Congratulations, now from just a primary glance everything seems just fine. From what you told me and this I would guess that you’re about nine weeks along. So you need your prenatal vitamins and I’ll have you come in next week for another round of tests, alright?” the doctor ask and she nods. He hands her a tissue to clean up her belly and leaves a couple minutes later. Emma just looks at Elsa with a sleeping Lizzie in her arms.

“Congratulations,” she gives Emma a one armed hug, “have you told Killian?” she asks.

“No, I figured this out today, at work,” she tells Elsa, whose eyes go wide.

“Alright, call him now,” Elsa instructs her. She then notices that Emma hasn’t moved and might be in shock.

“You know what let’s eat something first, then call okay?” Elsa says and Emma nods. Elsa sets Lizzie in her car seat to sleep soundly. They have the kitchen make something quickly. At the end of dinner Emma finally comes to her senses.

“Okay I need to call him,” she says reaching for her phone.

“Oh good I was worried about you there,” Elsa sighs, setting her fork down.

“I just needed to wrap my head around this. You know you suspect it, but hearing it confirmed is something else altogether,” she explains and Elsa nods with a smile.

“We’ll leave you to call him. If you need anything call me,” Elsa smiles hugging her before leaving.

“Of course,” Emma smiles, seeing Elsa and her niece out. The door shut and she sighs. She unlocks her phone and calls Killian. It rings a couple times before he answers.

“My love, you have to come with me next time because these things are dreadfully boring,” he tells her without missing a beat.

“You want me to be bored with you, how romantic,” she teases him, making her way to their bed.

“If you were here then they wouldn’t be so boring,” he tells her, “how was your day?” She pauses, how does one exactly tell their husband that they’re having a baby. She sits down on the bed. Is it something you can just spit out or is there a way to lean into it? She should’ve thought of that before she called him.

“Emma?”

“Sorry, I had a very interesting day, one I wish you were here for,” she says fiddling with her wedding band. Easing in might be better,

“Is everything alright?” he asks, worry creeping into his voice.

“Yeah more than alright,” she laughs, “I found out that I’m pregnant.”

“What?” he says shocked.

“I’m pregnant. We’re having a baby,” she tells him, smiling.

“You’re pregnant… we’re having a baby,” he says and Emma can hear Liam talking in the background. There’s some muffled sounds then Liam is on the line.

“Not to alarm you, but I think you might have broken Killian. He’s staring off into the distance with his mouth open,” he chuckles.

“Don’t be too hard on him I didn’t fully process it until about twenty minutes ago,” she laughs.

“Congratulations, how are you feeling?” Liam asks.

“Thank you and oh fine, been a little nauseous,” she says before hearing a commotion in the background.

“Love,” Killian says back on the line, sounding like he is breathing heavily.

“Did you just wrestle the phone from Liam?” she asks, concerned.

“That might have happened. You’re really pregnant?” he asks and she rolls her eyes.

“Yes, dear.”

“Oh Emma, I wish I was there,” he says and she smiles, he finally understands what’s going on.

“Me too, but you’ll be home tomorrow right?” she asks him.

“That’s correct,” he tells her.

“I’ll see you then. We’ll talk about everything when you’re home. It all happened so fast and I needed to tell you,” she sighs.

“I’m so glad you did,” his voice light and happy. They exchange goodbyes and hang up. Emma turns in early that night exhausted from the days events. Something wakes her in the the middle of the night though.

“Emma,” Killian says, waking her. She squints in the darkness, she fumbles around and turns on the lamp at her bedside. Killian is sitting on their bed.

“Killian? You’re home,” she says confused, still trying to wake up.

“I am, Liam insisted I come home, I think I was annoying him too much,” he chuckles. He pulls her in and kisses the top of her head. She looks up at him and kisses him. He holds her so gently, like she might break. She pulls away.

“We’re having a baby,” she smiles. His hand rests on her stomach.

“It’s like everything stopped when you told me. We weren’t trying so I was just so surprised when you said that. I feel like such an idiot for how I reacted because Emma I couldn’t be happier,” he tells her. She places a hand on his cheek.

“I know that, I’ve seen you with Lizzie. I knew you’d be happy. I felt the same way I was in shock for about an hour. I think I scared Elsa,” she tells him. He lifts an eyebrow at this.

“She was here?” he asks and she nods. Emma proceeds to tell him everything that happened that day. He smiles for most of it.

“I wish was here for all of this,” he sighs, looking down. She lifts his chin to meet her gaze.

“Me too, but you’re here now. There will be many doctors appointments and other things that I am sure you will be present for, so there is nothing to be sad about,” she essentially scolds him. He smiles.

“No there really isn’t,” he says. He changes out of his clothes then climbs into bed with her before turning off the light. He pulls her close kissing her once more before they both drift off to sleep. Emma didn’t think she could be happier than when she married Killian, but on this day and in this moment she is.

a/n: I know this epilogue has taken what feels like forever, but thank you so much to all of you have have hung in until the very end. Love you all.

#CS modern AU #cs ff #cs #CS fanfics #cs ff au #captian swan #Prince!Killian #firstdaughter!emma #CS modern royalty #epilogue #marriage #and babies #emma swan #killian jones

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ellanainthetardis · 6 years

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Remember I love you a lot :p Let me know your thoughts on this chapter, I’m impatient to hear.

{FF] or [ao3]

Chapter 30 : The Mockingjay

When Panem’s anthem rang out, they were getting ready to leave their hiding place. They both automatically looked up, curious as to who the four deaths of the day were.

He hadn’t been expecting to see Gloss’ face first thing. And certainly not followed by Brutus and Wiress. He looked away when Mags’ face appeared and frowned when it was followed by Blight’s.

“The explosion must have come from Three.” Katniss surmised. She wrapped the bottle of water in the silver fabric and tied the bundle to her belt, testing out taking her bow and notching an arrow a few times to make sure it wouldn’t hinder her movements. “You said they liked traps. Whatever happened…”

“She probably took out Gloss and Brutus with her.” he agreed. “With any luck, Cashmere and Enobaria are out chasing Beetee to get revenge.”

He didn’t believe it was the whole story. Beetee would never have abandoned Wiress. There must have been more to it.

However, he couldn’t afford to care.

If the Careers were after Three’s victor, it was good news for them.

As for Blight, anything could have happened to him.

“Let’s go.” he grumbled. “I’ve got a bad feeling.”

He wasn’t sure where it came from but suddenly his skin was crawling. He remained hyper-aware of their surroundings as they hiked through the plains in the direction of Eleven and he couldn’t tell if it was because they were walking in open sight or because of something else. The temperature was dropping low and he was fighting shivers before long.

They paused long enough to swallow some water and zip up their jackets as much as they could and then they went on, giving the bulls a wide berth. If those things attacked, they wouldn’t have a fighting chance.

The feeling of being under threat eased after a while but he didn’t make the mistake of relaxing. Paranoia kept you alive in the arena.

The orchards looked peaceful under the stars. He grabbed a few apples from the first tree they saw and passed them to the girl who stocked them in the makeshift bundle with the bottle of water for later inspection.

The trees were spaced out and they could see all around them. There was nothing. Nobody. No mutt. Nothing.

Then, where was the prickling at the base of his neck coming from?

Katniss seemed to be on edge too and he was grateful they didn’t need to talk to understand each other.

One look was all it took.

One look and they both kept their weapons ready.

A tiny part of him was hoping it wouldn’t turn out to be Chaff. The biggest part was focused on watching his surroundings.

He was looking out for someone or something.

Not for a tree.

“Haymitch!” Katniss screamed.

The warning almost came too late.

He tried to get out of the way but barely managed to lift his arms to protect himself when he understood he wouldn’t succeed.

The falling tree still caught him on the side, making his sight flash white with pain. He had avoided the trunk that would most likely have killed him but not the heavy boughs full of fruits and leaves. It was still enough to knock him out for a second.

At least until he heard the sound of fighting and he made an effort to get out of there, terrified sick for Katniss. He tried to move and pain flared in his side. He didn’t think anything was broken. Cracked ribs maybe. He kicked and growled until he managed to disentangle himself from the leaves and branches.

Something warm and sticky was running down his face. It might have been blood.

He felt around for his knife just as he looked up, to get a sense of what was going on.

His ears were ringing and the world was spinning but he saw it clearly. Katniss pinned on her back, Johanna straddling her, the axe going down… Fast. Too fast.

With a primitive roar, he tossed himself on the two girls, his blunt weight enough to make Johanna lose her balance – and her grip on the axe.

They rolled away in the dust, trying to get the upper hand on the other, until they hit the side of a tree. Haymitch was heavier and he landed on top.

“The fuck you’re doing?!” he shouted. He knew he was being loud. He knew. But he could barely hear anything through the rush of blood in his ears. And he was clinging to that deafness. He was clinging to it because he hadn’t heard the cannon. And if he hadn’t heard the cannon… “The fuck, Jo?! The fuck!”

Johanna was cackling.

He couldn’t hear it but he had seen her laugh often enough to perfectly imagine the sound. She had snapped. She had gone cuckoo like so many victors did. She wasn’t even really there anymore. There was no spark of recognition in her eyes, just a death warrant. And that laugh that never stopped.

And he wanted her to shut up.

He just wanted her to shut up and stop trying to fight him, stop trying to wrap her hands around his neck, stop trying to press her thumbs in his eyes…

He needed to check on Katniss and he couldn’t do that while Johanna was trying to kill him…

He just wanted her to stop.

His side was killing him, making his thoughts jumbled.

He just wanted it to stop.

He didn’t mean to hit her so hard.

The first punch wasn’t enough to make her keep still so he hit her again.

And again.

And he forgot to stop.

Because he needed to check on Katniss and Jo wasn’t letting him.

Because he needed to check on Katniss and the girl hadn’t stood up yet.

Because he needed to check on Katniss and the axe had gone down.

Because he needed to check on Katniss and fat ugly tears were already rolling down his cheeks with each new punch.

Because he needed to check on Katniss and he couldn’t stop screaming in rage at what he knew he would find.

He knew Johanna was dead.

He also knew he had busted his hand.

But as long as he was pummeling her body, as long as he was trying to stop her from hurting his girl, Jo wasn’t really dead yet and he didn’t have to see how Katniss was.

He shouted when he was torn away from Seven’s victor. He struggled but someone was holding him tight and the strong arm around his torso made the pain in his chest flare.

“Shut up.” a familiar voice growled in his ear. “For fuck’s sake, shut up.”

He went limp when he recognized Chaff. All fight left him.

His friend let go and he collapsed on the ground, his fingers digging hard in the dirt.

“We need to move.” Eleven’s victor said, not unkindly but seriously enough that he shook his head no. He didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to… “I risked my skin coming to get you. You’ve been hollering for ten minutes, Haymitch. It’s a miracle the others aren’t here already. Come on. Snap out of it.”

Chaff’s good hand grabbed his upper arm, to haul him up maybe, and Haymitch recoiled, snarling at his friend like an animal.

The other victor quickly stepped back and it was only then that he realized he had pulled out his knife.

He didn’t want to hurt Chaff.

The thought came, unbidden.

He dropped the knife.

He dropped the knife and finally turned to where the tree had fallen.

Katniss was still lying there.

The axe jutting out of her skull.

He wasn’t sure how to qualify the noise that tore from his throat.

He knew she was dead. He knew she had been dead before he had even reached Johanna.

But his brain wouldn’t compute.

He crawled to the girl, ignoring Chaff’s curse.

“Haymitch, we need to move.” his friend insisted.

“Go.” he muttered, just as he reached her.

There was less blood than he would have thought. Her face was broken. Like a china doll that would have fallen on the floor. Shattered in two but recognizable. He brushed the strands of hair that had come loose from her braid away from her cheek. His lips wobbled but, this time, he didn’t try to stop the tears. Make it a spectacle for the ages. Let them watch it on repeat and either cry with him or mock him. Let them. Nothing was important anymore.

She was gone.

She was… gone.

“Listen to me.” Chaff said, an urgency in his voice. “Even if Cashmere and Enobaria don’t come running… It’s been a while since the cannon. You need to let go now. We need to get out of the way.”

He shook his head again, only making himself more dizzy. He thought he might have hit his head earlier. Something on his forehead hurt. He couldn’t be sure. Everything hurt.

He cradled Katniss’ upper body against his chest, rocking a little as if to soothe her pain. As if she was still there to feel it. As if…

It should have been him.

It should have been him lying there with an axe in his skull.

It was his job. His duty.

“Don’t care.” he replied through clenched teeth.

He couldn’t look away from the dead girl he had sworn to protect.

He couldn’t.

He had failed.

Again.

He had failed.

The Mockingjay pin on her shoulder caught his eyes and, before he knew what he was doing, his fingers were loosening it from the fabric of her jacket. Just like he had done years ago.

For a moment, he didn’t know whose body he was looking at. Katniss’ or Maysilee’s.

“Haymitch. Buddy.” Chaff pleaded, glancing around nervously. “I’m so not in the mood to deal with mutts.”

“Just kill me.” he mumbled, his hand cradling the back of Katniss’ head. “’T’s okay. Just… End it.”

Chaff rubbed his face with his stump, his features hardening.

Haymitch didn’t even flinch when he saw him pick up a heavy looking bough.

“You never make it easy, yeah?” his friend sighed.

It was the last thing he heard.

Then Chaff struck him with it and everything turned dark.

He had time to think that death wasn’t so bad after all.

THE END

An: No, I’m joking. It’s not but you did have a small heart attack, didn’t you? ;)

#hayffie #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #into that good night

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intrepidmare · 6 years

Text

Supergirl Theories

After reading some theories from different people in the fandom (thank you @emarasmoak and @kbcountry37-blog for compiling such great list of speculations), I'm enlisting here the ones I agree on and maybe add 1 or 2 of my own.

Mon-El is cured. I believed he's 100% cured and lead poisoning won't be a problem anymore. I know @hillshollow has this great theory about the cure being only temporary as in the comics, but I don't think they're going that way. It'd be like a Deja vu for season 2. It's Kara's turn to "die".

I think the marriage is either fake (as in they say they're married, but they're not) or it's real, but based in friendship. Mon-El can't hide his thoughts or his feeling for Kara from Imra, so it's impossible that she believes he loves her. I do think they care for each other deeply, but they're not in love. If it's fake then it's a ruse from Mon-El (and the Legion) to keep Kara at bay.

Saturn Girl is NOT manipulating Mon-El without his consent. I find the thought of Imra doing just that very disturbing. Honestly, if she is, I will hate her. I do believe she's helping Mon-El to stay focused in the mission, so there might be occasions when she controls him (the kiss could be an example of that, here I'm hoping). However, Mon-El is aware of the manipulation.

I find VERY interesting how possessive Mon-El is with the necklace (and I love it, btw). I think such strong reaction is due to 2 reasons. The first is, as many of you have point out, that could be key for resurrecting Kara when/if Reign kills her. It makes sense. Yet, there's also Mon-El's emotional attachment to it. He kept it for SEVEN years, ffs! He's "married" and STILL wears it. Probably, it's the thing that has kept him sane all this time. It's a connection to her. He's here and he can see Kara, talk to her, but at the same time, they're as far as they were living centuries apart. Mon-El is NOT letting anyone taking the collar away from him, unless is to save Kara.

I'm all for the dreams/visions to be real! Yes, please!! (so great opportunity here for writing fanfics based on this!)

I also find VERY interesting how much time Mon-El and company spent in stasis in the ship. Twelve thousand years. The same that has the staff of Kolar (that's according what @hillshollow told me), you know the staff White Martians gave J'onn. If that's true, then I don't think it's a coincidence. in the Arrowverse nothing is a coincidence. Surely, there's a connection. The safest bet is that they'll need the staff somehow to defeat Reign.

And talking about the ship stranded for so long, I'm thinking they either intended to be there at that time (12k years ago and taking as true the connection with the staff. Somehow, some way, it has to be with it), and for some reason they got stuck. They never intended to be in the present. Or they intended for a different time, not so long ago or even the present, but the ship malfunctioned and they were thrown wayyyy back in time. Whichever it had been, they couldn't fix the ship, so they put themselves in hypersleep.

And I have a theory about Reign. In the past weeks I saw many people commenting in how Sam would turn into Reign. Many, including me thought that the trigger would be Ruby dying. Like that didn't happened, now I'm thinking Ruby is going to die anyway, but now it'll be Reign's fault. More specifically, Ruby will be collateral damage. Maybe Reign is fighting Supergirl and/or the Legion and the kid is there, get hurt and dies. Sam probably will blame Supergirl and that takes Reign to a whole new level of evil

But I also have an alternate theory to the one above. Ruby dies anyway, but it's neither Reign's, Supergirl's or the Legion's fault. Who kills the kid is one of those who sent Sam to Earth. They supposed to be dead, but what if at least one of those also came to Earth too and had the mission to live in cover until Reign wake up. Maybe even seeking followers. It'd be a parallel to the cult that worship Supergirl.

This is what i got so far. I might update this once in a while when a crazy spec come to me... that is when we got more info to go on, because right now there’s so much we don’t know.

@almondblossomme // @arrowolicity88 // @athena3291998 // @bitchwhwifi // @blackleather77 // @coal000 // @emarasmoak // @hope-for-olicity // @jeymien // @juliakaze // @laurabelle2930 // @ms-jane-darcy // @taurusclh // @wherethereissmoak // @lovelycssefan // @jaspertown // @emeraldoliverqueen //

#karamel #Supergirl #supergirl speculation #supergirl spoilers #spoilers #supergirl season 3 #my speculations #my theories #kara danvers #mon-el of daxam #kara+mon-el

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lifeinahole27 · 7 years

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CS ff: “Wait for the Moonrise” (Chapter 2/10) (au)

Summary: Emma doesn’t remember who she was before she was found in the woods, but she knows that she has a few close friends, a good job, and a loyal cat that greets her every day when she gets home from work. What she doesn’t know, however, is that her past is about to catch up to her in the strangest of ways. She learns quickly that not everything is as it seems, not even her cat.

Rating: E

Content warnings: smutty smut, brief mentions of the loss of a hand

Chapter specific content warnings: sexual situations, kidnapping (not at the same time)

A/N: My thanks are the only notes I have: to my beta, @captainstudmuffin, I owe my first born; to my artist, @clockadile, I owe at least ten fruit baskets; to the two lovely mods who had to put up with my weird brain, @phiralovesloki and @sambethe, I probably owe gold bars or something. To my guest artist on this chapter, @pompeiiablaze, I owe my meager possessions, and my eternal love. Sorry guys, I ran out of stuff, and don’t actually have any of the above -mentioned stuff. And now, for something completely different!

Chapter 1 |

Catch it on Ao3 or FFN! And catch @clockadile‘s artwork HERE!

For almost as long as he can remember, Killian has been a friend of the castle. Liam, fifteen years his senior, starts climbing the ranks of the navy even before Killian is left in his care at age seven. With their mother recently passed and their father presumed dead after he disappeared one night several years ago, Killian is left in the charge of the palace workers because of his brother’s status.

It doesn’t take long for the princess to take interest in him, this newcomer just two years older than she, and Killian is thankful for it every day. His life growing up with Emma is one of constant adventures of the mind, and their imaginations take them to every corner of the known world, and beyond.

As they grow, so does his fondness for the princess. Emma, the beloved and respected heiress of the throne, becomes known for her own brand of mischief, but also for encompassing a deep well of love for the people of her kingdom. She earns the surname Swan after it’s shown that she exhibits grace in the face of the public, even if she moves more like a calf still learning to walk when behind the palace walls. As a bonus, Killian has also been witness to another characteristic she shares with the birds that bide their time in the garden fountains. When provoked, Princess Emma will not hesitate to snap at those she feels deserve it.

When Emma begins to show signs of magic, they bring in fairies to start training her and honing her skills. Killian watches in fascination as she creates delicate swirls of fire or water, as she manipulates the air and cascades a line of sparks around her in a circle. He watches as she learns to control not only the magic, but also her emotions, as the two go hand in hand. Only once does she singe the bushes in the courtyard when her temper flares, but that’s the day that her parents tell her that she’ll be expected to find a suitor to marry when she grows older.

Killian joins the navy for two reasons. The first is to follow in the footsteps of his brother, and the second is to somehow make himself more worthy of Emma’s attentions. It’s at the age of eighteen that Killian first entertains the thought that Emma might one day view him in a romantic light, however he is well aware of their difference in status. As it happens, his undeniable intuition and his organized nature make him valuable to the inner workings of the fleet from his position on the land, while Liam moves up from captain to commodore out on the open waters.

It doesn’t hurt, either, that the strategy position means Killian is never far from Emma. Under the king and queen’s watchful eyes, they not only grow together, but also begin a very long, drawn-out courtship. They spend every moment between their duties as royal and lieutenant locked in the delicate art of flirtation and subtlety. Still, it takes them much longer to develop from first kiss to full courting.

It’s during one of these moments that Emma tells Killian to meet her in the flower fields, and he finds her playing with the tendrils of her magic, the blooms changing all colors of the rainbow with her in the center of the beautiful chaos.

“Emma!” he calls out, some mixture of fondness and exasperation in his tone as he smiles at her antics. She’s beautiful in her tumultuous jubilation, her smile shining brighter than the sun above her. With a snap of her fingers, every flower in the field goes back to normal and she makes her way over to him. The hem of her dress is slightly darkened by the dew and dirt, but she doesn’t seem to notice or care as she wraps her arms around his shoulders and pulls herself close to him.

“You’re getting much stronger,” he comments as his hands go to her waist.

“That’s not why I asked you here,” she says, pressing her forehead to his as she sighs in contentment. “I’ve told my parents not to invite suitors to my birthday celebrations this year.”

His heart speeds up, but he tries to keep his tone calm as he utters one syllable of a question. “Oh?” It’s been years since their first kiss, their only kiss to date, but still he hopes more than he ever has before.

There’s another hum, and she opens her eyes as she drops back to her bare feet, her smile the very definition of happiness. “I’ve told them that I have an interest in someone that I’d prefer to explore.” Her right hand comes forward to stroke along his cheek. Her thumb playfully dips into the dimple in his cheek, deepening it further as his smile spreads wider.

From there they only blossom together, much like the flowers in their field. Every chance they get, they stroll in the gardens together, her arm linked through his, and talk of everything and nothing at all. They duck behind hedges to kiss, hiding from her parents as they explore the tender beginnings of intimacy. They go no further than kissing, as is only appropriate, but as the summer stretches towards autumn, Killian knows that this bond between them is real, and he wants it forever.

In the weeks leading up to Princess Emma’s twenty-fifth birthday, a lot of changes take place. Some of these changes, like the ones that Killian is involved with, are nothing but good. He’s still in a pleasant state of shock that Emma returns his affections, and he spends the time before her birthday celebration ball looking for the perfect, official ring for his bride-to-be.

Thankfully, the palace jeweler finishes the ring he commissions with only days to spare, and with the ring in hand, Killian requests an audience with the king. He only speaks to Emma’s father as a courtesy, as he wishes for the man’s blessing, even if Emma would marry Killian with or without permission. His own brother, as beloved as he may be, knows nothing of his younger brother’s courtship. It doesn’t help that Liam is gone for months at a time. How is Killian to sum up his fortunes in a matter of lines to be sent to the Commodore of the First Armada of the Misthaven Royal Navy?

The talk with King David is nerve wracking to the highest degree. It’s not just asking for a king’s blessing, but everything that they discuss once David settles into an armchair across from Killian.

“You’ve been a member of this castle since you were very young, Killian. You’ve worked hard to gain your rank with the navy. And if you are Emma’s choice, then I have no room to say otherwise, not that I would. For what it matters, you both have my blessing, and I’ll save the protective father speech for another day.” David holds up his hand when Killian opens his mouth. He would never dream of hurting Emma, or ever leaving her.

“There are things you need to know now, to take into consideration as you head towards an engagement, and I’m sure you’re aware of some of it with your own military position.” He seems to weigh his words for a minute, rubbing a hand over his face as he stops just sort of sighing. “I almost wish I’d told you sooner.”

The king looks so serious, and suddenly so tired, that Killian fights to shift in his seat. “Whatever it is, your majesty, I am ready to hear it.”

“Of course, Killian. You’ve always been ready to jump into battles you can’t see,” David says amiably. His smile flashes quickly, before his expression reverts to one of concentration. “There is a prophecy we’ve learned of recently, in which Emma is the remaining hope for destroying the Dark One. He knows of this, and we’re afraid that he’s going to attack Emma in some way. We’ve enforced all the security around the castle that we can, but no plan is impenetrable. You understand that, don’t you?”

Killian nods, beginning to understand the delicate nature of this talk. “And I’m to help in this plan to defend the princess?”

“Everyone has a part to play here. Just stay vigilant at all times. If we can just make it out of this month unscathed, we have a chance of beating him. We’ve even called your brother’s fleet home to protect the shoreline. I just hope he’s back in time for the ball tomorrow night.”

At the mention of his brother, Killian does shift in his seat. Liam knows nothing of his plans to marry Emma, and he still isn’t sure whether or not his brother will approve.

“By your expression, I take it Commodore Jones doesn’t know what has happened on the land in his absence.”

“Aye, your majesty. I’m afraid he’s a little behind on the events of my life.”

“Well, I hope this will give you brothers an opportunity to catch up when everything settles. Have you gotten a ring for her?”

At the switch of topics again, Killian’s smile spreads again. “Aye,” he says dreamily, pulling the small pouch from the inside pocket of his jacket and upending it for the king to see the masterpiece. King David takes it from his palm and holds it up, admiring the smooth band and the reflective gem.

“Not as ornate as I expected you to get, which means you’ve catered to Emma’s tastes instead of your own. You’re already shaping up to be a wise husband.” For the first time during the whole conversation, Killian finally relaxes enough to laugh.

He excuses himself a short time later, heading towards the princess’s quarters as if his body is naturally drawn in that direction. The birthday celebrations are still a day away, but he knows she’s taken to hiding out in her quarters to avoid the bustling masses. He inspects his uniform for wrinkles, or any sign of imperfection, as he walks. After all, he has much to discuss with his beloved.

Love. It’s a concept he never fully intended to discover, as his own family being ripped apart felt like a sign that he should keep his head at his station and never look for any of life’s pleasures. And then the princess tilted her head to consider him, and even at the tender age of seven, he handed over a piece of his heart to her. He, a simple son of a captain gone missing, orphaned at a young age, somehow worthy of the cherub-faced girl that grew up into a headstrong, intelligent woman.

He’s just about to tap on the door to Princess Emma’s quarters when he sees the door is slightly ajar and voices are speaking from within. He has every intention of moving down the hall a bit, to give Emma her privacy, but he hears Queen Snow’s voice echoing the information that King David has just passed along to him.

“We’re going to do everything we need to in order to keep you safe, Emma.”

“I know, Mother.”

“I want you to have this for the time being,” the queen continues after a pause. He’s tempted to peek through the opening in the door to see what it is Queen Snow is giving to her daughter, but he cannot intrude on their privacy that way.

There’s no need, though, especially from the princess’s shocked words that follow. “This – this is your wedding ring. Why would you give me this?”

A heavy silence falls over the two women while Queen Snow seems to gather her words. “Even the fairies are worried that the precautions we’ve taken aren’t enough. There’s going to be a protection spell over the castle the night of your ball, but it can only last so long. And the fairies, well, they can only make it so strong.”

Hearing this, and hearing the way the queen speaks of her worries so candidly with her daughter, the pit that took up residence in Killian’s stomach before his talk with the king grows a little larger. He leans his head against the wall and evens out his breathing, sending up a wish with each exhalation that they can all manage to keep the princess safe.

“With this ring, and the one I’m sure is on the way from a certain young man that is enamored with you, maybe in the face of the worst case, you’ll always remember that we will find you, Emma. We will always find you.”

There’s a muffled sniffle, and he’s not sure which one of them it comes from, but he’s sure there must be an embrace involved.

"Okay, now that's out of the way, I do believe I'm off to the kitchens to see how the preparations are going for tomorrow night. You’ll join me shortly to check on all the details, yes?”

"Yes, I will. Thanks, Mother."

Killian pushes off the wall and quickly makes as if he was just walking down the hall, and it's as he's reaching the door that Queen Snow emerges from Emma's room.

"Good morning, Killian," Snow greets him warmly.

"Good morning, your majesty. It's a beautiful day for preparing for a princess's birthday, if I may say."

"Right you are. Oh, and I do hope you had a nice chat with the king," she says, a sly smile appearing as she turns just enough to look back at him. "Have a good day, Killian."

He stumbles over his farewell, taking a moment to breathe deep again before knocking on the door before entering.

"Who is it?"

"A dashing pirate, ready to steal you away and sail the high seas," Killian growls out as he sticks his head through the space. He moves further into the room, catching her eye in the reflection of the mirror on her vanity.

"Oh!" Emma feigns, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead as she spins in place on her vanity stool, "but who will save me!" They both snicker, with Emma dropping her hand as she rises from her seat.

"Good morning, love." He joins his hands behind his back, standing straight and trying to appear calm despite the roiling of his thoughts.

"And to you," she replies, moving to stand in front of him and reaching out to rub the pad of one finger down the detailing on his uniform coat. He's helpless from stopping himself when he reaches out and clasps her hand in his. He brings it to his lips, letting them linger on the soft skin on the back of her hand.

She hums, sounding content and happy as she looks at him with affection she can't seem to hide now that they've been honest with each other about their feelings.

"I trust you slept well?"

"I did, with all sorts of wonderful dreams about a certain set of lips and that spot you've just discovered behind my ear." She bites her lip after she says it, smiling so wide that her eyes crinkle up and a light blush heightens her coloring.

"I look forward to finding all the spots you enjoy as much as that one," Killian murmurs, careful to keep his voice low so if Emma's dressing maids are still anywhere nearby, they won't hear.

Emma presses forward, wrapping her arms around Killian's neck as she reaches behind him to push the door closed. "I wouldn't mind finding one or two of your sensitive spots, you know."

"You'll hear no objections from me."

“I only have a moment before I have to go help my mother,” she says, a furrow forming between her eyebrows. “Kiss me until I must go?”

“As you wish,” Killian says immediately, more than happy to attempt to put a smile back on her face before she heads off to deal with last minute details and party planning.

“The maids have all gone, if you’re worried about that,” Emma murmurs between meetings of their lips.

“That sounds like you want me to do more than just kiss you, love.”

"Maybe," Emma says coyly. She doesn't let him argue one way or the other, though, as she leans up again to capture his lips in a rough kiss. Her lips will be red if he lets her continue any longer, and her mother need not know what they've been up to, so Killian decides to take their little tryst in a different direction. Her gown is already laced over a corset, and they certainly don't have time to remove all those layers, so he improvises. It also gives him a chance to ask for something he’s wanted to try for a few weeks.

"Will you permit me to love you with my mouth, Swan?"

By the way her eyes darken and she sucks in a quick breath, he knows she's intrigued by the idea. They've not gone this far. They've barely touched each other at this point but there's something so enticing about the possibility of tasting her that makes him want it now, before he'll not get to see her again until they meet at the ball the next night. There's also a possibility that tomorrow will mean more than just the birthday of the woman he loves.

All those thoughts fly away, far far away, when Emma quickly nods her head. Pulling him down for another kiss as she drags him over to the nearest chair in her sitting room. "How...?"

"Hold on, love. I've got to - "

"Killian, just pull - "

They both pause as they laugh, trying to find their way beneath the skirts of Emma's dress.

He bites down hard on his lip when he finally makes his way beneath the necessary layers. While he is twenty-seven years of age, he’s spent most of his time pining after Emma. The rest of the time, he’s kissed a lass here and there, but just as much as Emma’s kissed a lad or two, if memory serves. This right here, as he eases her knickers down, is something he’s only heard about from ill-reputable sources or saw in the illustrated guide a group of sailors brought to the tavern one day.

“Are you sure, Emma?” They’ve already wasted so much time just getting to this moment, so maybe they should just wait.

“Are you sure, Killian?” The tone of her voice is all the answer he needs, but he makes sure to unbury himself for just a moment to see her face, to raise his eyebrow at the sass, before he ducks back under her skirts.

The stories he heard from other sailors fuel the moments that follow, as his lips brush against her heated skin. The soft ‘oh’ he hears from Emma is encouraging, though, so he presses further. Her legs widen further, allowing him all the access he needs to finally taste her properly. Her body directs him, from that moment forward. Although her quiet sounds are muffled by the fabric over his head, Killian strains to hear every whimper and gasp, obeys when she tells him to stay where he is or move to a new spot, and groans against her in earnest when she asks for a finger to be inserted. It seems he’s not the only one that’s been seeking outside education in the matters of pleasure.

When her skirts suddenly disappear from around him and her hands find his head, Killian worries that he’s gone astray from her desires. He starts to pull away but she frantically commands him not to move, to not stop exactly as he’s doing, and it takes only a few more moments before he feels her climax taking her over the edge. Her breathing stops for a moment, just a few inhaled gasps taken in and held, before she clenches her thighs on either side of his head and holds him there.

His name is her quiet incantation for the stretch of time she’s immobilized, until all her muscles relax. He eases away, then, taking in the rosy tint that spreads from her cheeks, down her neck, to even the tops of her breasts. Emma’s head is resting on the back of the chair, a serene smile lighting up her whole face. Her hands, which had fallen away as she slumped back, surge forward to tug at his shoulders.

“No, no, Swan – “ She kisses him before he can stop her, and he watches with enjoyment as she pulls away just as quickly. She touches her fingertips to her lips, her eyes slightly wide at the taste of herself on his lips, before she smiles and kisses him again.

“You were marvelous, Killian.” Her voice is dreamy when she leans back and speaks. “I can’t even find words to describe what that felt like, but I assure you, you’ll be finding out soon how it’ll feel on you.”

He’s painfully hard in his uniform trousers, and Emma’s words don’t help one bit. But she’s already surely missed from her party planning, and Killian has his own details to see to, now that he’s helping tighten up security.

“I will look forward to that, my love. For now, you must see to your celebration.”

She deflates a little when she realizes he’s correct, and they work together to make sure her undergarments and skirts are all back in proper place before she checks her hair. The flush is still fading from her fair skin, but it can be passed off as exertion when she will have to all but run to the kitchens.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night,” Emma says as she kisses him softly after they’ve both freshened up a bit. They talk quietly, standing just outside the door to her quarters but still cautious of any who might be around.

“Until then, Swan,” he kisses the back of her hand one more time and bows over it, accepting her smile and the hand she places gently against his cheek as she returns the sentiments.

She’s gone in a flurry of skirts, after that, and Killian turns on his heel to go find the men he needs to talk to about the perimeters of the gardens.

-x-

Perhaps it’s due to Killian’s familiarity with the undecorated ballroom that makes it feel so much more amazing to walk through the double doors at the far end the night of Emma’s birthday. He arrives early, before a majority of the guests, though some have already been escorted in and are mingling with family members and friends. Killian walks the room slowly, greeting those he knows warmly and enquiring after their health before he continues his circuit.

There are troubling tales, even at such a festive gathering, as Killian overhears stories of people gone missing, or suspected kidnappings. He listens as carefully as his slow pace permits before continuing onward. These kinds of gossip are common, especially in the quiet moments before gatherings, and even more so when there’s such terrible darkness out beyond the walls of the castle.

For ages, the Dark One has lurked in the corners of the world, and the prophecy the king mentioned comes back to him, reminding Killian that Emma is allegedly part of what could bring Rumplestiltskin, along with the whole history - centuries - of Dark Ones down.

The beginning of the ball will consist of dinner, and so tables are situated through the entirety of the room. Killian walks among those to admire the details that Queen Snow and Emma have considered. The cutlery is all sleek and plain, much like Emma prefers, as are the plates and glasses at each setting. It’ll all be cleared away for the second half of the celebration, so that the guests can all lose themselves in the dancing and music.

He rests in this moment for just a moment, his finger gliding along the handle of the nearest fork before he goes to meet with the soldiers that will be patrolling and the fairies that will be guarding them. From that moment forward, the ball gets even more opulent as the chandeliers are lit and hoisted, as all the wall sconces receive their flames. The lanterns that were lit for early mingling are shuffled away until it’s time to douse all the party lights. Killian watches all of this, nodding in approval as everything falls into place for Emma’s wonderful day.

As the ball gets underway, Killian is somehow still amazed at how busy he is the whole time. He takes one moment before the guest of honor joins, off to the side with the rest of the soldiers, to eat a quick plate of the princess’s favorite delicacies. He’s thankful for the distraction of his own assignments and that he needs to circulate amongst the guests and members of his own military; Emma’s had to spend so much time and attention on all her guests that he’s not even had a moment to say hello properly, yet.

There’s a small break in the festivities, where the guests shuffle out of the way and servants replace them to clear away the tables and chairs, and then the small chamber orchestra sets up in one corner to begin tuning their instruments. It’s the midway point in the evening, and as beautiful as it all is, and as stunning as Emma looks, he’s able to breathe a little easier that they’ve reached this point. The wavering sounds of strings being tuned echoes around the ballroom for a moment before they quiet and the first true note begins.

The first dance at the princess’s birthday always belongs to the king, but Killian takes the chance to work his way closer by presenting himself to the queen for a dance. She smiles at him, that one that borders on matronly, as he bows low and holds out his hand. With the queen’s hand in his, they make their way to the dance floor to join Emma and King David.

Emma’s smile when she spots them could light the ballroom all on its own, and as soon as the first dance ends, King David gives him a knowing look and he cuts in on Killian’s dance with Queen Snow so that Killian can dance with his daughter. Other couples begin to join, forming swirls of color much like her favorite trick with the flowers, as dresses of all colors move around the floor.

It’s the first time Killian has a chance to really get a look at her, other than flashes of red from the corner of his eye as she moved from one dignitary to the other. Up close, he admires the fine details of the embroidery on her dress and enjoys the rustling of her skirts as they go through the movements of the waltz.

“You look absolutely stunning tonight, Swan.”

She preens a little at the comment, her eyes darting downward and her lashes fluttering as she graciously accepts the compliment. “You’re looking very fine yourself, lieutenant. Have I mentioned how much I enjoy the dress uniforms?”

“I know,” he says, full cockiness in her voice to make her chuckle in response.

“I’ll have to dance with a few of my guests for a while, but save me a dance or two before the end of the evening, yes?”

“Aye, your highness, I’ll save them all for you if you’d like.” He wants to reach out and stroke the curve of her cheek, to taste her painted lips, to whisper all her deepest desires against the shell of her ear. Instead, he repeats the same low bow for her when the song ends, giving her one meaningful look before moving away to fetch himself a drink.

He’s just finished a perimeter walk and checking in with some of the guards when a broad chest interrupts his path. He almost berates whoever has just run into him, but he recognizes that coat, and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise to see Liam before him. He’d heard his brother was back but had yet to actually see him.

“Welcome home, brother,” Killian says, a smile breaking across his face as the older man pulls him into a bear hug. Killian slaps him on the back a few times, not only to further his greeting but also to remind Liam that he needs to breathe and that he’s hugging him too tight.

“Goodness, Killian. I couldn’t tell if they were feeding you too little or too much when I first saw you, but I do believe that’s all muscle you’ve put on. And here I figured since you took an assignment on land that you’d go all soft on me,” Liam says, the twinkle in his eye reminding Killian that he’s joking, but the barb still stinging just a touch.

“I may require that my mind be stronger than my body where I’m stationed, but I keep both very sharp, indeed.”

“Come, let’s talk about that positioning you suggested for the Second Armada outside of Arendelle.”

With one last furtive glance back at his princess, Killian lets himself be dragged away for talks of politics and military and naval strategy. Liam grills him on his choice to stay on land instead of going out to work his way through the ranks, and it takes a lot of patience for Killian to not talk back to his older brother in a manner unbecoming. Liam doesn’t question any more of his personal life, preferring instead to talk of life with his Armada or the rationing of treats among sailors to keep up morale.

It’s nearly half an hour before he can get back to the dance floor, back to Emma and that very fetching dress which he admires a little more each time he sees it, and when he’s able to slip in to be her next dance partner, he notices how much she perks up when she catches sight of him.

“Oh, thank goodness, it’s you. I’ve just had the most dreadful last few partners and I value my toes.”

“You’re only happy to see me so your dainty little feet don’t get squished by the uncoordinated men in attendance, then?”

“That, and because I happen to be rather fond of you,” she adds, smiling when he twirls her expertly and brings her back into the hold. “I saw you chatting with Liam earlier. Was it just me or were you wearing an expression akin to what I gather you’d look like if someone was stabbing you during the whole conversation?”

“Stabbing might have been less painful, love.”

“That bad?”

“Aye, which is why I’m much happier to be with you, right here, right now, instead of seeking out more thrilling conversations about the armada.” He’s thankful that the next dance step brings her close so he can whisper in her ear. “Plus, when we’re close like this, I can very nearly see down that dress of yours and I’m very hopeful that the black corset of yours is all lace and that I get to see more of it later.”

When the next move shifts them, Emma raises an eyebrow at him, otherwise staying silent, but he can practically hear her thoughts through that look. If he wants to find her maids mysteriously out of the way and the door to her antechamber unlocked tonight, he’d better be on his best behavior for the rest of the dance and evening or else neither of them will go to bed in good moods tonight.

“I’ll find you for the last dance of the evening,” she tells him, smiling a little as she says so and accepting his bow. “Go try to enjoy yourself a little, for the sake of my birthday?”

“Aye, your highness, I will do so.” He leaves the dance floor before anyone else can claim a dance with him, and heads back to the gardens for a breath of fresh air.

The security around the castle is impeccable, as far as he’s concerned. Every time he’s done a walk to check on them tonight, everyone has been exactly where they’re supposed to be. All the fairies, dedicated to their role in the realm, have been steadfastly homed in on making sure their dust and spells are all in order. When he’s reassured that everything they’ve carefully planned is still in place, he heads back to the party to mingle again. He tries to spend a little time with his brother, and even dedicates a little time to dancing with the ladies he’s met before, usually mothers of his favorite soldiers or friends of the royal family.

As promised, Emma appears at his side to save him from a dreadfully dull conversation about expense reports of some sort between Liam and another commodore. She’s clearly growing tired, but she’s still enjoying herself by the looks of it. She’s surprisingly affectionate for a public event, and over her shoulder, he catches sight of Liam’s questioning look. Before his brother can put any pieces together, he makes sure they pass behind a few more couples to hide them from view.

“For the record, as soon as I’m dressed for bed and my gown has been stored, I intend to send my maids away for the evening so they might have a little bit of an early night,” Emma says mid-way through the dance. “Just so you know, for security purposes, of course.”

“It’s important to know these things,” he comments, and longs to continue by teasing her, but the other couples dancing are far too close. Not only that, but another shift around a pair brings them side by side with her parents.

They both look approvingly at their daughter’s final dance partner of the evening, and he so hopes that when he sees them tomorrow, he’ll be betrothed to their daughter. The looks they give him before they spin away say they hope for it, too.

This time, when the song concludes, Killian makes sure to kiss her hand as he bows over it, making sure to whisper that he’ll be at her quarters just as soon as he can be, before they go their separate ways for the end of the celebrations. He watches a short time later as the princess is escorted back to her rooms, followed by her parents, and the ballroom clears of all the guests. He wants to make sure that the changing of the guard goes off without a problem, and he bids his brother a good night afterwards as they go to their own rooms.

Waiting for the palace to quiet down afterwards is one of the hardest things to do, and Killian has to make sure that he times it just right so that no one will be awake to question why he’s wandering towards the princess’s rooms. After what seems like too long of a time, he eases out of his room and shuts the door firmly behind himself. He has to take a roundabout way that seems to take him in the opposite direction at first, just to be certain that everyone else is where they’re supposed to be, before he heads swiftly to her chambers.

The antechamber door is, in fact, unlocked when he tries the handle. He makes sure to secure it after he enters, making his way back to her bedroom with a candle to light the way. He almost drops it as he turns from shutting the door behind himself, as Emma is lounging as casually as she can, wearing nothing but the lace corset and skirts that leave very little to his imagination.

“No, no, darling. I do believe it’s supposed to be your birthday, and I’m supposed to have a present for you. This feels quite backwards to me.”

“I’m pretty sure we can turn this into a mutual gift, so get over here already,” she commands. He sets his candle down on her nightstand to join the ones she already has lit before moving to stand in front of her. She sits up when he does, leaning into his hand as he caresses her cheek and closes her eyes. He wants to tell her so many different things right now, like how much he loves her and how beautiful and poised she looked all evening. He wants to say that there’s no way he deserves her, but that he would also possibly expire on the spot if she rejected his proposal. Thinking of the ring makes him consider getting it now, asking her now, but instead he leans down to kiss her.

Emma takes the initiative in undressing him, removing his suspenders from his shoulders and pulling his shirt from where it was tucked into his trousers. He bends to quickly remove his stockings, and marveling at the plushness of the ornate rug beneath her bed before he’s brought back to reality.

“Killian, I’d like to love you with my mouth, like you did to me. And then I want you to make love to me.”

“Darling, are you sure you don’t want to wait?”

“You said you wanted to give me a present. And this is all I can ask of you tonight.”

“Turn around, so I might help you out of that lovely undergarment, then.” She smiles at him, this one a combination of her excitement and her love for him, and he basks in the warmth that they will be irreversibly joined very soon. She stands and turns for him, unfastening the skirts from the waist of the corset and tossing them to the side. She’s forgone her own stockings, and he realizes she really wasn’t wearing anything else under the skirts when he gets his first unhindered look at her pert, perfect backside. His hands stray, briefly, to run the backs of his fingers over the smooth skin he finds there, before he focuses again on loosening the laces.

When enough of the corset is loose, she unhooks the front, letting the two halves part while her back is still turned towards him. She stands there, haloed by the glow of the candles, nothing but bare skin from the nape of her neck to the soles of her feet, and Killian isn’t sure he can breathe. This is such a monumental moment for them, and will only be overshadowed by the moment he asks her to be his wife (as soon as he can remember how to speak again) and the moment he does truly become her husband.

And then she turns toward him.

He thought he was breathless before, but she’s now standing before him, naked, and moving to remove the trousers that have become far too confining in the past couple minutes. While she eases them over his erection, he finally moves into action and yanks his shirt over his head, letting it fall to the floor just as he steps out of the bottoms.

While he drinks in the sights of her skin, she does the same to him, reaching out to touch his chest in awe, to run her fingers down the hair she finds there, until her palm is closing around his cock and he can see stars behind his closed eyelids.

“Killian,” she calls to him softly. “Touch me.”

He opens his eyes to see the lust burning in hers, and he starts by tentatively reaching out to cup one of her breasts, marveling in the way it feels and the taut nipple pushing against his palm. She pushes into the contact, moaning as he gently massages and brings up his other hand to do the same to both at once.

She lets him keep up at that for a few minutes, with her fingers gliding up and down the length of him in a featherlight touch, until she guides him back to her bed. She kneels on the mattress, but when he tries to sit up, she pushes him back and instructs him how she wants him to lay. Once he’s in position, Emma seems to steady herself before she reaches for his cock again.

“You’ll tell me how you like it?”

He can’t verbalize, not when her breath is blowing across the head of him, so he nods and watches with wide eyes as she eases the foreskin down his shaft and closes her mouth around the tip.

“Bloody hell, Emma,” he whispers, because it’s the only volume his voice can reach that doesn’t sound like he’s shouting in pleasure in his own mind. She hums around him, and he quickly tries to think of anything to stave off the orgasm that’s edging up on him. “Emma, Emma my love, you can’t – I can’t…” He’s on the brink of climax from having his cock in her mouth for less than a full minute and if he doesn’t stop her now, this evening will end rather quickly. And he’s so been working on longevity during his private pleasure times, too. All wasted, in the face of reality.

He shifts, careful to ease her away from his delicate part before putting her in the same position he was just in. She looks adorably befuddled, but also worried, so he moves to quickly reassure her.

“It felt too good, Swan. I wanted to be able to last for the rest of your requests, and I can’t do that when your mouth feels like heaven. Where on earth did you learn to do that wondrous thing with your tongue?”

“I practiced kissing once I was old enough with the maids of mine that are also my age.” His eyes widen at this information, but she smirks at him. “Don’t act so scandalized. You practiced kissing with my maids once or twice, as well. Anyway, they’ve given me great amounts of advice on how to please both ladies and men.”

He shakes his head, marveled as always at this intrepid princess that he fears he may always be two steps behind. With no further response to really give, he turns back to the idea of bringing them both pleasure, and decides to revisit what he tried on her yesterday.

“Killian…” His name melts on her tongue as he makes his way back down her body, stopping to kiss and love her breasts for a moment now that there’s nothing hindering him from doing so.

“Hush, love,” he speaks as he trails kisses down her stomach. “This will allow me to give you the gift you’ve requested once I’ve calmed my blood a little.”

She tastes sweeter today than she did yesterday, and he eases her thighs further apart as he dips his tongue into her. He brings his hand up to rub at her clit, incredibly glad for whichever lad it was that told them all of the pleasurable spot to ensure a woman orgasmed. He must move in the correct combination because Emma arches off the bed with a gasp, the moan that follows much more wanton than he’s ever heard in their months of tentative exploration.

Without breaking contact for long, he trails a finger down to slip inside while he moves to focus his lips on her clit this time. He finds a rhythm that she seems to appreciate, with the way her hips thrust against his mouth in time. As best he can without stopping, Killian looks up the length of her body, feeling his own arousal renewed at the way her hands massage at her own breasts, the way her head tilts back into the mattress as she makes noises that urge him to keep going. Knowing she’s about to scold him for stopping, he does so anyway, only to slide up the length of her body to kiss her.

“Are you positive you want to, Emma?”

“I’m sure,” she says, nodding. He sees the lust in her eyes, but he also sees the love she’s not spoken of yet.

In preparation, he adds another finger to the one that was already working in and out of her. He just doesn’t want to hurt her. By the looks of it, though, especially with the flush that spreads down her chest, he’s fairly certain she doesn’t know what pain is right now. Regardless, he makes sure when he replaces his fingers with the tip of his penis that he goes as slow as he can without diminishing their pleasure.

He’s barely fully sunk into her when he feels his climax building again, and it doesn’t help when Emma clenches around him. They both react to that – Emma with praise for how good he feels and Killian with obscenities at how he’ll surely die before this is over.

“I don’t care if you last long tonight, Killian. I’m so close. We’re both so close. Move and touch me and let go.” Sure enough, she’s covered in a sheen of sweat, one that has little to do with exertion and more to do with being so close to climax for far too long, especially if she was as aroused as he was when he entered her room.

He moves – slow, deep thrusts that get harder as he gets surer that he’s not hurting her in any way. He knows he’s not when Emma reaches down to grab his backside, guiding him in again and again. He remembers what else she said, working a hand between them and finding her clit with sure fingers to bring her over the edge. When she pulls him down roughly and holds him in place, he lets her take what she needs, bending to kiss her when she asks him to.

Feeling her come around his cock is an entirely different experience than feeling it around his fingers. As soon as her climax begins, it sets off his, and he sucks in a breath and holds it as he presses into her. His face gets buried in her hair and it’s only once she starts to come down from her own that Emma reminds him to breathe as her hands slide up along his spine.

The air whooshes out of him, and he groans as an aftershock of hers causes one of his own. It’s so tempting to let himself collapse on her, but he remembers that he likes her alive and not smothered, so he rolls off to the side.

They both remain immobile for a minute, their panting breaths echoing around the large room as the sweat dries on their skin. She rolls to him, then, her bare breasts pressed against his chest as she drapes herself over him, and she kisses him long and deep.

“That may be the best birthday gift I’ve ever received,” she tells him once she pulls away.

“It’ll supposedly get better once it can last longer,” he comments, enjoying the way she laughs as she moves off the bed to retrieve a towel she had folded on a nearby settee. Once she’s cleaned herself, she runs it over his softened cock to clean up some of the mess before balling it up and hiding it at the bottom of her dirty clothes. She fetches a clean nightgown for herself while Killian turns down the bed for them, figuring it’s the least he can do at this point. He considers proposing before they turn in for the night, but when Emma climbs back onto the bed, he can see the exhaustion pulling her down.

In the morning – he can make her breakfast and propose in the morning.

For now, he climbs in next to her and pulls the covers over them both. Before sleep can claim them, he remembers to wish Emma a very happy birthday, and whispers his love to her as she closes her eyes.

“So perfect,” she reiterates, murmuring her gratitude in return. He’d be offended if he didn’t know her so well to know she’s awful at expressing her emotions in words. Instead, she curls even closer to him, placing a kiss on the nearest skin she finds before drifting off to sleep.

Killian wakes before she does, with the sun filtering through the doors to her private balcony and just lighting upon Emma’s sleeping features. They’re still close – not as fully fitted together as they were when they fell asleep, but his hand is trapped between their pillows by Emma’s hand. He doesn’t mean to wake her, but she stirs as soon as he shifts his hand, and she scoots closer to relinquish his hand in favor of wrapping her arms around him instead.

“Good morning, my pirate,” she says in greeting, and he smiles down at her.

“And good morning to you, my princess.” She accepts the kiss he gives her, sighing happily as their lips move against each other. Her hand wanders across his bare chest, and he watches the cogs turn in her head as she considers his still-nude state. “Ah, ah. No, my love. You still need some rest. I’m going to make you breakfast, however, and bring it to you here and as soon as you’re nourished, you can think about ravishing me within an inch of my life again, aye?”

“Oh fine,” she responds, but it’s barely more than another sigh as she snuggles against him. “Just stay with me until I fall back to sleep, though.”

“Of course, Swan.”

She takes one more kiss from him before settling back down against her pillows. He waits until her breathing evens out before carefully extracting himself from the covers. He tucks them back around her, making sure she’s warm and safe before he re-dresses in the clothes he wore last night.

The palace is still asleep, so he makes his way back to his quarters with no issue at all, ducking into his chambers and heading straight for his dressing room. He catches sight of himself in the mirror when he enters, his grin wide on his face as he takes in the disarrayed hair and the stubble coming in. He rubs a hand over his face, considering shaving before heading to the kitchens but deciding it can wait.

He shucks his dirty clothes and pulls on fresh, making sure to comb his hair and clean his teeth before he retrieves the ring and makes off for the kitchen. Some of the staff are likely to be awake, which means he won’t be making an utter fool of himself in an attempt to cook, which actually calms him from the nerves that have built over his plan.

If any of them are surprised to see him, they don’t show it. But they happily take the gold he offers in exchange for setting up a beautiful breakfast setting for the princess. They all buzz with excitement when he pulls the pouch from his pocket, and they all help arrange the ring in such a manner that the food surrounds but doesn’t touch it. The plate is topped with a cover to keep everything warm, and then they all but push him out the door so they can start spreading their gossip about the princess being engaged.

Between the kitchen and the princess’s rooms, Killian counts his steps and his blessings, fully sure that he could spend one, maybe even two, hundred years on this earth and still not love anyone as much as he loves Emma. With careful maneuvering, Killian gets through the door to the antechamber and shoulders his way through the door he propped open when he left.

Surprisingly, the bed is empty, and Killian surmises that she may have woken up to relieve herself. Perhaps she woke and decided to dress herself – one of her favorite activities when she gives the maids a day off. But when he sets the tray of food down and goes looking for her, he finds each room empty. She only managed to throw her corset in the vicinity of her dressing room the night before, and nothing else in there has been moved. He places a hand on the sheets where he left her and finds they’re still warm, so she couldn’t have gotten far.

Outside, the sun goes behind a scattering of clouds, with the wind gusting beyond the doors. One of them creaks a little, which catches Killian’s attention immediately. They kept those closed and locked the night before. He rushes over, seeing the broken hinge immediately and starting to worry. He turns back to the bed, his eyes a little wild, his mind racing a little faster.

The clouds move away, and the sun shines back through the windows at his back. The sun catches something, and Killian moves forward, feeling as if he’s suddenly moving below water as he reaches out for the glistening strand on the pillow where Emma so recently smiled lovingly at him.

It’s gold. It’s a single strand of pure, spun gold, the signature mark of a madman. He barely has time to consider his next move beyond waking the castle and sounding the alarm. He stands in place, clenching and unclenching his fists, maiming the strand in his hand as he does so, and then his limbs finally catch up with his brain.

The guards outside the doors to the king and queen’s chambers are understandably alarmed as Killian comes running around the corner, but when he gets close enough, he tries to slow and calm the blind panic and anger coursing through him.

“Are the king and queen awake? It’s the princess.”

Both of their faces show alarm at the news and one immediately ducks through one of the double doors to report. Killian is waved in a moment later, just as Queen Snow is tying the sash to her robe and joining where King David is already situated with various parchments.

“Killian, what’s happened?”

“She’s gone,” he says, holding out the crumpled strand of gold to them and trying to maintain his composure. He wants to scream, or cry, or find a sorcerer to take him to Emma right this second, but he can’t do anything without knowing what course of action they want to take next.

King David lifts the strand, his face hardening at the evidence, while Queen Snow covers her mouth with her hand and her eyes well up with tears.

“David, our Emma. We have to find her.”

“We will, Snow. We will,” he says, determination strong in his voice as he shoves aside the reports he was reviewing and grabs several blank scrolls to send out as messages.

“Killian, I need you to go wake your brother. We’ll need both of you to round up as many men as you can to start searching. If he was able to break in, maybe he couldn’t use magic and they’re still in the area. But we have to move fast. Go now,” the king urges, and Killian immediately turns on his heels to follow his orders.

Liam is just pulling on his boots when Killian practically bursts through his door with barely a knock, and he gives his brother a very pared down version of what’s going on to get him moving quicker. They make their way back to the strategy room to receive their next assignment.

“We’re in the process of sending messages to our neighboring kingdoms for assistance, and to keep their eyes open for any possibility that he’s had to take her without using magic. All our best trackers are out there already, but I want every inch of the kingdom searched. Commodore Jones, I want you to assemble as many of your men as you can to start searching the northeast corner of the village and woods. Take your brother with you.”

He moves on to the next commodore and then to the captains after that, which leaves Killian bristling just slightly that he’s been tossed in under his brother’s command, not even with his own captain, instead of being seen as the man that was about to ask the king’s daughter to marry him. He can’t even fuss about it, however, as Liam ushers him from the room to gather the men and start their search.

It takes less than an hour for every military man, every castle civilian, and every volunteer they could round up to be searching the entire kingdom. They fan out, going door to door to either ask for clues or ask for them to join the search. They comb the woods, inspecting every bent leaf and broken branch.

Half of Killian is glad to be moving, glad to be keeping busy, but shortly after they begin their campaign to find Emma, Liam is called back to launch a portion of his armada to go to other kingdoms. He takes the news in stride, redoubling his efforts and almost refusing to turn in for the night when they start losing daylight. He has to be verbally reprimanded by his captain, reminding Killian that he’ll be of no use to the kingdom if he freezes to death overnight or injures himself without light to search by.

He tries to go back to his own room, first, but he ends up in Emma’s when that’s where his feet carry him. The lady’s maids have been through the room after it was turned upside-down for any other clues. The bedding has been replaced, the bedding they made love on for the first time less that a full night ago. Her corset and wardrobe are tidy, but the tray of food that he set down is still there, and Killian realizes that there’s no cushion to break the fall that’s about to take place.

Lifting the lid slowly, there’s the ruined breakfast, with the ring still pristine in the center. He lifts it, feeling his heart clench in pain in his chest as he stares at it in the low light of the candle he brought and the last of daylight beyond the windows.

The sun will rise on an empty room tomorrow.

“Killian?” He turns quickly at the soft-spoken voice, but it’s not his beloved magically returned. It’s Queen Snow, standing at the doorway and looking lost and bereft. Her chin quivers as she sees what he’s holding, and she slowly strides toward him with a silent request to see it. He doesn’t speak, just holds it out for her to take as he swallows hard, swallows back the tears that are now threatening to break free.

“I will find her,” he promises, his voice barely more than a growl.

“We will,” Queen Snow echoes, looking sadly down at the gem in her hand. “We just need to be patient.”

“I was gone barely a half of an hour,” he tells her. The fight drains out of him, then, and he drops onto the closest chair. “I shouldn’t have –“ He realizes what he’s said, and what he was about to say, just a moment too late, but the queen doesn’t look offended to know that he spent the night with her daughter.

“You couldn’t have stopped him. He’d have found a way to get past us eventually.” She places her palm on Killian’s shoulder, a gesture to comfort a son, and he fights harder to keep his composure. The queen needs strength right now, not to hold him together.

“May I ask a favor, your majesty?”

She nods once, also clearly trying to hold back her emotions.

“Would you mind holding onto that, until I can find her and bring her home to you?”

“Oh, Killian…”

“Please. I’d rather it be somewhere safe, and it’s only fair since the ring she has is yours instead of mine.”

At that, Snow’s lips barely crack into a smile. “I was sure that I’d be getting that back this evening. You know she’d never have kept it if she was showing off yours.”

“Aye,” Killian agrees, feeling that tightness in his chest all over again. “I know.”

“Try to get some rest. The maids have a special tea blend to help you sleep if you need the assistance tonight. I’ll have one of them take away this tray.”

“I’ll carry it down,” he tells her, waving her off from touching it. “I just want another moment before I retire for the evening, if that’s all right with you.”

Instead of a response, Queen Snow reaches out and pats his shoulder again, only bidding him a goodnight when she reaches the door so he can only slightly make out that her voice is breaking when she says it.

He hangs his head when he’s alone again, trying to rein in his emotions, tamp down the anger that boils hot in his blood, swallow down the panic that he’ll never see his almost-betrothed ever again.

“I promise to find you, Emma. No matter what it takes.”

-x-

Nearly a month into their searches, they recall the military forces out in the realm and order them home. Killian is beyond frustrated at this point, knowing that they all know it’s the Dark One and that he certainly wouldn’t be hiding in some bloody village right under their noses. The only clue they ever found was in the southwest quadrant of the woods, where a scrap of what could’ve been Emma’s nightgown was found on a bramble bush. There were no other signs that she might still be anywhere nearby.

In that time, Killian becomes more vocal about his doubts that this will lead to any breakthroughs in finding the princess. He becomes belligerent on more than one occasion, leading to a meeting with the king and queen so very different from the ones he’s ever had with them.

“Killian,” Queen Snow says gently. “We’re getting disturbing reports back from your captain about your recent behavior.”

“We know this is exasperating, waiting for news and hoping for results, but it is the best way to look for Emma right now. We have eyes and ears all over this kingdom, and several others, all looking for the same purpose. We just have to wait for him to slip up.”

“He’s the bloody Dark One. Don’t you get it? He’s not going to slip up because he knows the game better than we do!”

“Killian!” The king almost sounds scandalized, as Killian has never raised his voice at them, has never spoken so candidly to them before. And never has he sounded so defeated, either. “You are a lieutenant in the navy under your captain’s command. And if that’s not good enough, then it’s under my command. I need you to be doing your job and not squabbling with every superior you come across. Do you understand me?”

There’s a war over his emotions for a moment. There’s some shame, that he spoke to the man and woman who have only ever cared for him in such a manner. But he never had a father, and he isn’t looking for one now. Still, despite the comment that wants to come out at David’s tone, Killian holds back and steels himself.

“Aye, your majesty.” He salutes, not meeting either of their gazes as he exits the room. He nearly knocks Liam over on his way back to his quarters.

“Slow down, little brother,” Liam says, a gentle but genial smile on his face. Killian scowls, a combination of the pet name and his brother’s ability to smile about anything right now.

“It’s younger brother, and I’m retiring for the evening.”

“It’s the middle of the day, Killian. Why – hey! Come back!” Despite Killian’s attempt to exude his unwillingness for company, Liam follows him, going so far as to push into his room and shut the door behind them. “What the blazes is your problem, Killian?”

“My problem? The princess is missing. She’s been kidnapped by the vilest man in the realm, and we aren’t trying hard enough to find her. That is my problem,” Killian snaps, removing his jacket and whipping it towards his wardrobe.

“The king and queen are using every resource available to find their daughter. You know how much she means to them. They wouldn’t cut any corners where she’s concerned. Why – Killian, calm down, brother. Why are you so worked up about this?” Liam just barely manages to dodge one of the boots that Killian sends sailing across the room, followed by the other.

“I was about to ask her to marry me!” Killian finally yells. “And not in a couple days, or a couple hours, Liam, I was on my way back to her room with the bloody ring.”

Silence falls over the room after his outburst, and Killian sinks onto the foot of his bed. He runs a hand through his hair, scrubs them both over his face as the full weight of the last month sinks into his bones and soaks up his dwindling hope.

“Killian, I didn’t… I didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me?” Liam’s voice is quiet and serious when he asks.

“When should I have told you, brother? In a letter sent to your ship with the monthly reports? Or how about when you were shrugging off your leave? You’ve barely been around since making commodore, and there was no good time. Even at the ball you wanted to talk about my strategy moves and rations.”

Liam moves slowly to sit next to him, folding his hands in his lap as he looks at his brother. “You should’ve said something sooner,” he says, and Killian immediately stands in agitation.

“Oh yes, because that would’ve gone over well. Tell me, Liam, how you would’ve reacted if I told you six years ago when this all began that I was in love with the princess and wanted to vie for her affections?”

“I would’ve said you’re bloody stupid, but to go after whatever it is you wanted.”

“Even at the expense of my military career?”

Liam sits back and thinks about that, and Killian can see it all coming together in his mind. “The strategy position kept you in the castle. You could’ve been out captaining a ship and making twice as much already,” Liam says, as if Killian didn’t already know this.

“I don’t give a damn about the money, you fool. I care about Emma.”

“Princess Emma,” Liam commands, and Killian grits his teeth.

“She’s Emma to me, as she’s been for many a year while we’re alone. You can’t come back here and expect to suddenly control me. You’re not my commodore, Liam. I’m barely even your brother at this point. Just some lieutenant you’re in charge of at times, and nothing else.

Liam stands, suddenly, marching straight for the door with anger puffing out his chest. “Sod off, little brother. You’re not the only one who has feelings around here, and maybe it would do you good to remember that.”

He slams the door when he leaves, and Killian is only disappointed because he would’ve enjoyed applying force to something other than his uniform at this moment.

The next morning, he’s summoned to the king and queen’s antechamber again, and his stomach sinks when he walks in to see Liam in attendance, as well.

“Your majesties, Commodore Jones.” He bows to each of them in turn. “You wanted to speak with me?”

Snow sends a worried glance to David and Liam, but remains silent.

“We’ve decided that you’re to be suspended from the navy until such a time that you can learn to follow orders again. You are commanded to stay out of the strategy room for a length no shorter than one month,” David says, his face set in stone as he speaks. Liam turns away when Killian looks at him, opting instead to gaze out the window at the back of the ante-chamber as snow begins to fall outside.

He seethes inside. “Liam, what did you do?”

“He didn’t do anything, Lieutenant.” Calling him by rank after telling him he’s suspended is a slap to the face, especially when they’ve always called him by name. David takes a deep breath. “You��ve hounded our advisors and told them they aren’t looking in the right places. You’ve taken liberties with authority figures lately. You’ve spoken to a commodore with absolutely no respect. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Killian stands perfectly still. He doesn’t look at Snow, whose eyes are pleading with him to say anything to make the situation better. He doesn’t glance again at Liam, who has still not turned his attention from the window. His jaw clenches and he averts his eyes to look somewhere over the shoulder of a man whom has always received his respect. Instead of answering any of them, he bows low and turns to leave.

“Killian, wait,” Snow calls out, but he’s out the door and doesn’t stop until the door to his rooms is barricaded shut.

It takes him less than two days to formulate his plans. He works around the clock, sleeping in shifts so he’ll have the energy to enact his idea once it’s time, and otherwise staying locked away. Someone from the kitchen always delivers his meals, but he never opens the door for them, preferring instead to wait until they’ve given up and left the tray beyond the door.

On the third day after his suspension, the food is delivered, but when they come again at lunch, the untouched tray is still sitting out in the hall. They find the note addressed to Snow after they’ve had to break down the door, and all it says is “Keep it safe for me.”

When she receives the note, she shakes her head, a broken chuckle coming from her as she folds it and holds it to her chest. She’s not even surprised when a captain reports that the Jewel of the Realm, his brother’s favorite ship, has been commandeered overnight.

By the time it’s reported to the king and queen that a ship has gone missing, Killian has managed to make it a considerable distance away from the shore. The Jewel is the fastest ship they have, and even the second fastest won’t be able to catch him with the lead he has. With a ragtag group of men he managed to hire in the shortest time possible, Killian has officially claimed himself captain, and their first order of business is to get as far from Misthaven as they possibly can.

“If you see a ship, men, you alert your captain and we will take what we desire. But no harm shall come to any crew we encounter, do you understand?”

A chorus of men all respond at once, “Yes, Captain!”

“Good. You’ll all make a fine crew aboard this ship, and you’ll have more riches than you know what to do with in no time at all. Let’s get this vessel in order and be our own masters!”

With the men cheering on deck, Killian takes the helm, his fists closing around the handles on the wheel as he steers them towards his own destiny.

Chapter 3

#cs ff #cs ff au #captain swan ff #csbb #csbb 2017 #wait for the moonrise #sarah writes ff #enchanted forest/modern au

162 notes · View notes

cianmars · 7 years

Note

“I told you this would be a bad idea.” for Red Snowing or Snowing pretty please. :)

Thank you so much! FF

“I told you this would be a bad idea.”

Ruby rolled her eyes at Snow’s reminder to them, but shedidn’t justify the statement with a response, she just carried on tugging atthe enchanted rope tying them all back to back and stopping her from wolfingout.

David also rolled his eyes but he didn’t have enoughrestraint to stay silent. “You still agreed to it, anyway you told Emma it would be a bad idea – hence whyGranny’s watching her and we are during the stupid and dangerous thing.”

“Were.” Snowcorrected. “Currently we’re sitting here, without my bow, your sword, and youcan’t change into a wolf.”

Ruby and David shared a look which was drawn to a conclusionwith an eye roll from both of them.

“I hope Emma’s okay.” Snow said quietly. It became obvious,to her spouses, that her sarcastic comments to them had been a manifestation ofher worry.

David and Ruby couldn’t touch their wife, but they bothshifted as much as they could to press themselves against their wife, to giveher some physical comfort.

“I know what you mean.” David agreed. “This would be so muchless stressful if she hadn’t inherited all three of our knack for findingherself in the middle of the trouble, then we could just focus on getting outof here.”

Ruby nodded her head. “Maybe she’ll be too scared of Grannyholding her crossbow to do anything…”

“I think that might just be a you fear….” David joked,though he knew how scary the older woman was holding the weapon, he figured iteven scared Regina a bit (though getting her to admit that would beimpossible).

“She’ll be fine with Granny,” Ruby insisted she was tryingto ignore her growing frustration at feeling helpless to help her spouses andthen go and protect their daughter.

There was a big bang and their heads snapped to look up atthe stairs up from the basement. Snow was having to fully crane her head as shewas at the back of the three tied together.

Slowly the Grand High Witch descended the stairs. There hadbeen some pluses to Roald Dahl characters appearing in Storybrooke, like theclear improvements in the amount and quality of candy in the town, but sadly italso brought about a slew of new villains – including a harem of Witches whowere intent on turning the towns children into mice, according to the witchesthis included twenty year old Emma, Regina, Snow, Ruby, and David all jokedthat it was because Emma acted like a child, which had made her pout, notexactly disproving their point. But it had also terrified them that there was apowerful group of witches targeting children.

Emma had wanted to go in all guns blazing, to storm theabandoned hotel where they were and just hit them with any magic she couldmuster, and as she had so eloquently put it “and wing it and stuff”. They hadtold her no, outrightly banned her from heading to the hotel no matter what,and kept her by their sides while secretly planning on sneaking in to gatherintel on the witches. They left Emma under Granny’s care and reminded her tostay with Granny and told her that ifshe got within a hundred yards of the hotel she’d be grounded to always be atone of their sides for the next ten years.

They had found out a way to defeat the witches, by usingtheir own potion they had been making to turn the children…. But they had alsobeen caught sneaking in, and now they were sat tied back to back in the hotelbasement.

“You know I could just release you now, all you have to dois give over your child, it’s not a big deal, and mice really are much lesshassle.”

“You can go fuck yourself if you think that’s ever going tohappen.” Ruby told her.

“What she said.” Snow agreed through her gritted teeth.

“Yeah, over our dead bodies, you’re not laying a finger onour kid.” David snarled.

The High Witch considered their words for a moment in a coldand calculated way. “Well, I’m not stupid, I know that you’re a werewolf, andyou’re the stepdaughter of that powerful witch who I’d have to be a fool tocross…” She snapped her finger and David was suddenly untied and pinned to awall… “But you’re a no one, no one to miss you...”

“Hey!”

“Leave him alone!”

Ruby and Snow both shouted.

The witch laughed, and spoke as though she was talking aboutthe weather, or was trying to convince them to take out life insurance orsomething. “Then just give the mouse up, it’s not like you can’t just make moreof those disgusting creatures, preferably when we’re away from here so we don’thave to see it, you could even have two at once.”

They could hardly believe what they were hearing, partiallybecause they were disgusted that they ever thought any of them would give uptheir baby, and partially in shock that their relationship was being given moreacceptance by a witch who wanted to turn children into mice then kill them,than some of the people who they had known for years – despite the eye rollsthey gave back and told repeatedly that they were all equally in love with eachother, and no Snow wasn’t just in love with Ruby and using David to give herkids, and that they were never going to talk about their sex life withstrangers.

“She’s our baby, we were separated for her for twenty years,so if you honestly think that we’re going to be forced to be separated for morethan a couple of hours from her, you have another thing coming.” David may havebeen pressed against the wall, and feeling as though a weight was pressedagainst his chest pinning him to the wall, but he wasn’t planning on losing anyof the protectiveness no matter what compromising position he was in.

Before the witch could say anything there was a loud noisevibrating through the hotel. There was another similar noise in just adifferent note. It was completely unfamiliar to the Witch… but Ruby, David, andSnow knew exactly what that was, the first few notes of Seven Nation Army byThe White Stripes.

“Shit.” Snow whispered as the music properly kicked in.There was only one person in the town Snow knew of who would copy Iron Man’s entrancein the first Avengers movie, albeit with a different song choice.

The High Witch clicked her fingers and her arm broke, hescreamed in pain, then she clicked her fingers again and David was tied upwhere he had been before. Then she ascended the stairs again towards “

“David, babe, are you okay?!” Snow asked with sheer worry.

“We need to get out of here.” David ignored the question.

“I think I have it…” Ruby said, she pulled at the rope fiercely,after a couple of tries they came free.

They all pulled the ropes off of them and stood up.

“David you need to stay here.” Ruby told him firmly.

“Not a chance.” David shook his head. “We need to find ourweapons and then find Emma.”

“David, your arm is clearly broken, you need to stay here.”

“Snow, Em is-“

“Here.” A new voice interrupted. Emma appeared grinning thesmile she inherited from David.

“Emma!” Her name rang out of all of their mouths at the sametime, they pulled her into their arms, David didn’t even care about the pain inhis arm as he cupped her head.

Emma melted into their arms as they held tightly onto her,she had been terrified when they had been gone over two hours, they had saidthey would be back by then, and they were never late. She had worried it wouldhave been too late, she was more than happy having three parents who loved herand each other, but she wasn’t sure how she would feel about having mice forparents. Suddenly she was pulled back with their hands still holding onto her,just close enough to see their faces… she wish she couldn’t… they did not lookhappy…

“Emma Ruth! This was a terrible plan, we told you not tocome.” Snow chastised.

“But-“

“We weren’t joking about you being grounded to us.” Davidtold her sternly.

“But you were cau-“

“How did you even get down here so fast? We heard yourmusic.”

“It’s a drone.” She shrugged. “It’s not a big deal, it’s notlike anything was going to happen to me, you three were almost turned into micethough!”

“No excuses, Emma, you could have been hurt- you still couldbe!” Ruby added. “We would have found a way to get out of this.”

“But you did this! You all disappeared on me, you gotcaught, anything could have happened to you… I could have lost you…” Shepointed out, the whine showed her worry, and the pout the unfairness at thesituation.

David, Ruby, and Snow shared a look, they knew that theywere being a little hypocritical, and they didn’t like lying to their daughtereven if it was for her own good.

“I may have left Regina a vague message suggesting to gethere.” Emma said sheepishly, as if on queue there was a huge bang as Regina andthe rest of the backup arrived. “I’m gonna go help her.” She tried to move buther parent kept a tight hold of her.

“We weren’t joking about the grounding, kiddo.” David toldher gently. “Now, you stay put, did you see any sign of our weapons?”

“Yeah, they’re back there.” she pointed over at the cornerof the basement where she had appeared from. “Why don’t I get to-“

“Because you’re our pup.” Ruby pressed a kiss to the top ofher head then turned into the wolf version of herself.

“I’m going to help too.” He told Snow, giving her a look, heknew she wasn’t happy with him taking on the witches while injured but sheunderstood.

“David if you come back with any more injures, so help megod, you’ll be sleeping on the couch until Emma’s done being grounded.”

“You could just not ground me-“

“Understood dear.”

“-Or we could just ignore Emma…” Emma sulked.

“Emma, baby, just do what your mommy says. Me, mommy, andmama will all talk to you about this at home.” He told her gently, but he shother a look telling her that there was going to be a conversation later.

“After we go to the hospital.” Snowtold him seriously, she might not be able to get him to not fight, but shecould make sure he got it treated as soon as possible. “Emma, I need you tohide down here, behind those boxes just incase anyone comes down. David, canyou pass me my bow.”

Soon enough the fighting was over, David and Ruby had joinedRegina and the others, Snow had stuck some arrows into a couple of witches andluckily Emma had listened to her parents for once and stayed put.

Regina looked at Snow with a raised eyebrow. “This was anincredibly stupid idea Snow.” She chastised.

Emma ducked her head and sniggered, perhaps it was a parentthing, as her mom looked exactly like she had when her parents had told heroff.

“Wow, who’d have thought Snow would be pouting like a baby?”Ruby smirked before looking back at David’s arm, to her it felt like a cleanbreak which would be easily and fairly quickly fixed at the hospital.

David wrapped his uninjured arm around Emma’s shoulders andrested his head on her head. “You’re right, she looks exactly like our baby.”He smirked as Emma turned to face him with another pout identically to Snow’sthen knocked her head against his chest as though trying to headbutt him, butshe led her head against him. David smirked ate her huffy cuddle.

“You both suck.” She pouted against his chest.

David chuckled and shared a smile with his wife. “Uh huh,well, you get to spend the next ten years with me and mama, or mommy, all the time.”

Snow walked back over to her two spouses, rolling her eyesat her stepmother’s stern words at her ‘risky and immature behaviour’. Her faceturned worried as she looked at David’s bruised and swollen arm. “How is it?”She asked Ruby, her voice not masking any of the worry, she ran her handthrough Emma’s hair distractedly.

“He’ll need a cast but he’ll be okay.” Ruby assured her. “Solong as he listens to his two amazing wives, and takes it easy, and doesn’tover do it.” She shot David a look as he rolled his eyes, a serious one, whichwas very different than how she normally acted.

“Yes ma’am.” David said with another playful roll of hiseyes. He pulled Snow into a kiss. “I’m fine Snow, I promise.”

“Good, because I love you, and if anything happened to youI’d kill you.” She told him seriously.

David was touched at how worried his wives were for him, itwas a testimony to how much they loved each other, they always would and theybecame especially protective in times of worry. He looked down at Emma who waslooking up at him was the worry of Snow and Ruby put together. He pulled hercloser to his chest. “Don’t worry baby, I’m fine, it’s just a poorly arm. Hey,look at it this way, I’ll be off work until this is fixed, that means you canget me to watch all those tv shows and all the movies we’ve been meaning towatch.”

Emma still felt worried, though she knew that she was beingsilly, she was happy to be held safe in her father’s arms. “Disney marathon?”

“Sure, just no Snow White, or Hoodwinked, or we’ll have yourmommy and mama ranting about them for days.”

“It’s completely inaccurate! Granny’s never gone skiiing!”

“Name the last time you saw me dancing and singing withwoodland creatures… well, when I wasn’t drunk on Granny’s homemade sangria…”

#ask #asks #answered #Red Snowing #Mama Snow #Mama Ruby #Daddy Charming #Ruby Lucas #Snow White #David Nolan #Emma Swan #Red Snowing AU #fic #just-an-outlaw

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myrhymesarepurer · 7 years

Text

Three: Chapter Three

Summary FMAB, Post-Promised Day

Roy and Riza are forced to share a room. Riza has an unfortunate dream, sparking a tireless battle to separate, resulting in an insufficient amount of sleep, requiring just a touch of blackmail.

Pairing Royai, lil bit of LingFan

Rating M, for the most part.

a/n and a bit after, I have returned with the main idea for this story. a lit twenty-seven paged chapter of who knows. this is my favorite one at least. but, here I am, trying to write some smut...and drowning it in reasonable plot. and a bit of adorable humor. oh, and a lil bit of LanFan. Hmnn. Enjoy!

READ CHAPTER ONE READ CHAPTER TWO

ff ao3

Roy very much tried to keep the knock quiet, covert. He wanted to hide, disappear even.

There were only four rooms in this small creepy tiny little inn.

But, he was biting his lip raw, willing the heat on his hands, on his lips, in the pit of his stomach, willing that burn to

well,

he was attempting to throw cold water on the situation, without actually having to give the time or the energy, to physically retrieve the cold water

complimentary or no.

Instead, he knocked, he rushed,

and, thus, said knock turned to a bit of a bang.

He wasn’t sure who was in Room One, Lan Fan, Ling, or the luggage.

He didn’t know.

It just seemed like a logical place to start. Also, it was the farthest he could get from Room Four,

from Riza, in that shirt.

It was Lan Fan that answered the door warily, only opening it just so.

“You can put away the throwing stars. I come in peace.”

Lan Fan’s face dropped along with the arm holding her knives tight behind her back, ready to pull, wind, and strike.

“I am ashamed you saw through me.”

He coughed a sick laugh, “I know a woman quite like you.”

Roy locked his jaw. It was a poor choice of subject, considering. But, it was true. He knew she came prepared.

Even to Resembool.

And, Roy needed to last long enough without a knife in his jugular to get that key.

“Indeed,” Lan Fan said, steeled, lifted her chin and opened the door only an inch more.

How generous.

“I need your spare room,” “May I inquire as to why, General?”

Roy sucked the desperation out of his voice. He went into pure diplomat mode, quick, calculating, and strong enough not to be utterly hypnotized by his Captain.

quickly, he became The General.

“Why not?” he said feigning a peek behind her, “Seems you only need this one,”

Lan Fan had been bested twice in one evening, twice in the last five minutes. Roy had never seen the bodyguard, the fighter, the survivor so deflated, vulnerable.

He knew.

The General knew Lan Fan wasn’t alone. He had sized her up, analyzed.

Roy knew now he had knocked on Ling’s door, and not her own. He knew. He was good.

She had no choice but to turn in a flash, and produce a key out of nowhere, immediately.

Leaving no time for questions, for the disclosure of any more sensitive details.

Lan Fan was quiet when she spoke, “You understand I must keep my own quarters.”

She extended his salvation to him. Her request was for appearances, he knew.

for an alibi, for emergencies.

Who was to catch any of them in this stupid, little, tiny owl-infested inn in the middle of absolutely nowhere?

However, the General had left his captain under the same paranoia.

The same line, utterly crossed.

This is illegal.

Yes, it was safer this way. He would be stuck with the cargo room, out of mutual understanding.

“Deal,” Roy said, snatching the key out of her hand, all too eagerly. “Room Three,” she said.

He turned, he fled.

“However-“

Roy wasn’t the only one, quick, observant, knowing.

Lan Fan knew, and she shared her most honest truth.

“Do know it will not work, good General.”

Roy lifted an eyebrow, still struggling with the lock as she spoke.

“And, why is that?” he mumbled.

“I know a man quite like you.”

She and her Emperor lived a story the slightest bit similar to his own.

Roy furrowed his brow, focused only on his escape.

“It’s not your decision, in the end,” Lan Fan said softly. Roy locked his jaw, ripped the key through,

turned around to deny absolutely everything, but she was gone. He glanced at Room Four, only a step away.

Riza only a step away.

He resisted that step with all the strength he had. He threw the door open.

This is illegal.

He slammed the door closed, and hid.

He hid, while Riza stood.

She did not hear anything,

not Roy, nor LanFan, not even the most crucial warning,

It won’t work, good General

She perhaps could have used such advice to snap her out of it, prevent her demise.

But, Riza was too long gone, lost inside her head. She only heard the yank, the rumble of the slam.

Her stomach turned to stone, felt heavy, an unbearable pit.

And, Riza listened, frozen in that exact spot, the spot she stood when she watched Roy Mustang leave.

Riza knew there was a pull, while she stood there staring at the doorway,

In her mind’s eye, she watched Roy’s face drain white and burn red at the very same time, watching Roy turn and leave, escape.

Riza did fight back, though.

Her most rational, reasonable side pieced itself back together soon enough to even force her to lean away, toward the very back of the room.

She pulled. She tightened her feet, dug her toes into the carpet.

She needed something stronger.

For, in the battle between Riza Hawkeye and the room across the hall. Her will to stay still was most certainly pulverized.

It was pathetic.

Riza Hawkeye surrendered, did not think, did not fight,

She wrapped her hand around the door knob one finger at a time, she breathed in,

willing not to make a sound.

She had clenched her eyes closed, thought about counting sheep, counting the fan, its spins, and its squeaks.

Granting some peace before giving into officially deliberate loss of control.

With no plan, with no reason,

Riza turned the knob, held her breath, stepped onto the carpet,

pivoted to close the door, so perfectly in synch with the room across the hall.

Riza’s eyes widened at the sound, she spun, she held the knob behind her, gripped fingers.

She held it like some terrible secret, cursing the fact that she hadn’t stayed inside, mustered the strength to give up the fire.

But, there was Roy Mustang, still no shirt, also out and also caught,

his door wide open, also clenching the knob, ready to step toward Room Four.

“Captain-“ he cleared his throat. “General” she said, so much less composed than she had ever been in her entire life.

“I was going to get some w-“ “There’s an ice machine-“

“Yes, of course,” “Right, yes, Sir”

They had both picked the glass-of-water excuse.

Lovely.

Each waited for the other to move, not able to retreat, because that meant something was weird, abnormal,

There was no way they could join the other, even for the sake of their cover.

For, the probability that they would ram each other into the ice machine until Riza made that noise again,

that probability was far far too high.

Damn him. Stupid dream.

Of all the nights.

This is certainly why they never shared rooms. Of course, it was only appropriate to separate genders.

But, it was mandatory to separate the General and the Captain, more mandatory than they had ever thought.

Decency be damned. Law aside. It wasn’t good for their health.

They wouldn’t get any sleep, she imagined, not just this night, but for weeks.

It was quite an obvious presence in their relationship most radically when he returned, twenty, fresh out of the academy, finally confronting just how madly he cared

for Riza Hawkeye.

Riza realized she had started suffocating the moment he left to enlist.

She was alone with her father once more, the dead land, the toxic silence

a world without Roy Mustang.

Weak. Typical.

He returned. She caught her breath.

But, she had it under control.

They had it under control, permanently so, conveniently brainwashed by so many horrible things.

They had successfully forgotten, the truths of the past were gone, finally.

So,

It is reasonable that night, both Riza and Roy were dumbfounded, as to why the universe deviously decided to turn all their years of effort

into pure, raw, sexual something or other.

It was infuriating It was inconvenient.

and it was completely unnecessary.

In the end, Riza caved. She went off to the lobby to fetch him a glass of ice cold, complimentary water.

She cursed under her breath as she pattered back to their rooms, the fresh glass in her hand she knew Roy didn’t need,

acutely aware she was still only in his shirt.

Where was her head?

These were not the actions of a most respected and feared Captain Riza Hawkeye.

She needed to recover. It was mandatory she regain control.

It was mandatory she return to her room, as soon as humanly possible.

Riza made quick work of a knock, the door opened. She focused on the floor, completely avoiding confronting her half naked commanding officer.

She outstretched the cup. “Water, si-“

Roy grabbed her wrist.

He pulled her into the room, guided her fast, backward into the wall, lips most accidently, most unintentionally, most inevitably,

centimeters from her own.

“General-“ she warned.

This was exactly the opposite of where she should be. She needed to get back to her room.

Riza shifted. Squeezing her legs together. Subconsciously, just most automatically shutting down any ideas his or her own.

It couldn’t happen.

Roy sounded almost heartbroken when he murmured to her, “I can’t-“

Roy sighed, dropped his head, instantly spotted her long, long fair legs, and instantly snapped back up to her eyes.

It didn’t help all that much. But, he did handle her brown eyes every day. Not those legs.

Therefore, at the moment, it was far easier to look up, regardless of the fact that he was utterly,

powerless.

He kept sighing deep and defeated. Riza was distracted by the electricity coursing through her skin, yet still felt terribly bad for him.

Even when she shouldn’t have. For their own good.

Her eyes softened.

Roy composed himself, a true diplomat. “How often do you have those dreams?”

“Rarely,” she deadpanned, a safety mechanism, “If ever. I was just unbelievably unfortunate tonight.”

Roy blinked, oddly, briefly

disappointed, yet most modestly unconvinced.

Riza hid a swallow, a dry mouth as he stared at her. She needed to leave.

She needed her own room.

“I have an idea” a spark lit up Roy Mustang’s deep black eyes,

“You be Riza,”

“I am Riza, Sir.” “I’ll be Roy.”

“General-” she huffed. “Roy,” he breathed, “Just for right now.”

her Roy, from so long ago, that past instantly revived.

They had always been so comfortable, it was absurd how lax she was here, half dressed,

and she had certainly never been half dressed with him before, mind you

yet still it was her Roy, so familiar,

It certainly was tempting. Riza managed to still give him a look,

“This is not a good solution.” “But, it is a solution,” He countered,

a solution was all he needed. They just needed to get through the night. He just needed-

“Sir, the Emperor of Xing is in the other room,” she said, coldly, sensibly, “He knows exactly who we are.

Officers of the Amestrian army. Direct superior and subordinate. We can’t get away from that.

Not even in Resembool”

Although Riza had regretfully revealed in one treacherous, terribly timed dream, that she would certainly want to get away with it, that she had most certainly pondered the possibility.

Roy, of course, had briefly forgotten the fact that Lan Fan was also in the other room.

With the Emperor.

Perhaps he could strike a bargain. Or even blackmail the pair, if worse comes to worst.

They could be different people, at least for one night.

But, with Riza, his Riza, in front of him, so close after so long. Roy completely forgot nearly everything, except the feeling of her waist beneath his fingertips.

She didn’t mean to give in when he traced every curve from the top to the bottom.

She locked her jaw and gritted her teeth, knowing Roy Mustang, himself, at the end, would do her in.

It was always so, truly.

But, she had just finally trusted herself to forget and wait, and wait, wait.

She was so good at it.

But, that night, Riza Hawkeye was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and apparently much weaker than she always posed in public.

He left them in silence, watching the gears in her head turn. He left her to silence. He left her to crumble.

“Fine then,” she itched, hands on his chest,

Roy got too close. His skin grazed hers all over. Oh yes, she was always much, much weaker when it came to Roy Mustang.

She gave in, “You can be Roy.”

She held his sides, pressed on her toes and kissed him just so,

permission.

She successfully resisted immediately attacking him.

Her General wasn’t so strong.

He responded by shoving his lips into hers, bracing her neck, tangling fingers into her hair.

Riza did not even miss one step matching his speed. She skimmed her hands down his chest, the definition was certain the reason for her dream.

He needed a shirt. He really needed a shirt.

She gasped sharply when his hand slipped up the borrowed long over shirt, only just a feathered across her breast.

Before she could shamelessly beg for him to give up the tease, and just

grab it,

he pulled away and hovered her nose, breath sucked away, checking one last time,

that this wasn’t a pleasant dream, finally so graciously saving him from those blasted owls in the lobby.

It certainly could have been a wonderful dream. He checked to make sure. He checked, he hoped.

“And, you can be Riza?”

Riza was nearly too delirious to nod, but she did, in a flurry and it was then when things got too heavy.

Then was when everything spiraled out of their hands. Then was when he lifted her up, long legs wrapped around his waist.

He gripped her ass. She moaned lightly and he went crazy, shoving his tongue in her mouth.

His fingers fanned out, sneakily skimming the middle of her spread legs. She gasped, a delicate ah,

a bit of a very uncharacteristic squeak white hot spreading from her body to his.

It was too similar, too similar to the one from her dream, too too similar.

It was too too far.

This is illegal.

They both knew it. He dropped her.

Yet, Riza shamefully, involuntarily drew him back before he could rip away,

and she was so intoxicating, and she wanted this, he didn’t stand a chance.

He forgot. They forgot.

Roy and Riza now.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, wove her fingers through his black hair and so forwardly forced him closer.

She would regret this, she knew, all of this.

This is not Riza Hawkeye. How so true.

How so utterly false.

Roy grinned stupidly, kissed her, and kissed her, while his hands skimmed down her sides, outlining each curve once more,

and then his fingers found their way once again, in between her legs again,

somehow, annoyingly, aggravatingly, insufferably just

knowing

it was precisely what she desperately itched for

from the very start.

He had forgotten. She had forgotten.

They had finally forgotten. Roy and Riza.

then he only just swept his fingers over the cotton, applied the slightest bit of pressure,

Riza actually, absolutely, fiercely gasped, squeaked, utterly choked so accidently, shamefully arching, almost crying a most fatal

“Roy-“

before she caught herself, before he truly heard her,

and their eyes snapped open, and they remembered.

This is illegal.

How humiliating. They tore apart.

Riza stood once more frozen, ice cold hatred for herself,

and her most evident Achilles Heel, when it came to anything and everything.

Him.

Roy clenched his jaw and groaned miserably, nearly slamming his fist into the wall

That was before he thought of Ling and Lan Fan. It won’t work, good General,

And, it wouldn’t work, no matter how hard he took it out on the wall,

It’s not your decision, in the end

The other shoe had finally dropped. They were no longer above the most fundamental part of love.

What a headache.

There were a dozen different ways they could now handle the aftermath: denial, anger, silence just to name a few.

Riza Hawkeye, as logical and rational as she was, and Roy Mustang, as chained to science he had always been, could not deny any longer the cold, hard evidence, that they were drawn to each other.

This fact was now validated for the first time in 10 years,

and now they had to deal with it.

Riza could do silence. She was known for her astounding affinity for silence, her wise and calculated use of words.

But, in the moment, she had lost her mind, her skill, her many years of practice.

It was all wiped clean by the man in front of her, the soldier, the idealist, the key to the country’s future.

The man she was sure she would give into if he opted to push her onto the queen sized bed and not stop until sunrise.

But, Riza had to react somehow, in someway, the energy had to go somewhere.

The soldier, the idealist, the key to the country’s future, her weakness could destroy everything.

Anger, she chose anger.

Roy could feel it from across the room, even as he climbed over boxes to get as far away from Riza as he could.

He knew it was coming. He braced for impact.

“I don’t appreciate it, General,” she started, following protocol, keeping it professional.

Well, as professional as she could be, while she stood half naked in a hotel room with her equally as undressed commanding officer

“Please don’t call me that. It’s making it worse.”

Roy hissed off the surge through his teeth, shaking his flannel pants, trying to pull them as loose as possible,

painfully noting the combination of Riza and his rank outside of the proper setting,

turned him on far more than it should’ve.

He had to shut it down. Roy held the bridge of his nose, felt Riza’s death stare burn into his skin.

“I don’t appreciate being treated like one of your girls,” she said quite softly, yet venomously.

He responded with fury, matching her choice of anger.

Roy Mustang was always the only one who was willing to fight Riza Hawkeye.

Roy risked a step forward to her, pointing at her, calling her bluff.

“You are not like them and you know it.”

Roy knew all the things he meant by saying that. The layers upon complex layers of significance could fill several thick volumes of text.

All of it written down would rival the alchemy books of old.

which were generally boring, long, long and very long.

Yet, a young Riza forcefully ensured he read them all the way through, ensuring he kept up to his master’s, her father’s, unrelenting standards.

She never gave him a break. It was still so, even with this.

For not only was she so much more beautiful, captivating, bewitching, enrapturing.

She was the only good of his past, and the truest hope for his future.

No other woman held a candle to her in any facet, in any realm or universe any one man’s imagination could dream up.

but, quite obviously, she knew

she was so much more substantial, much deeper and more profound, bright and brilliant

than the silly, flitty little dates he paraded around in the name of espionage, in the name of a façade that very often came in handy, when he needed to forget his Captain.

Yet, most crucially,

She wasn’t fake. She was real.

This wasn’t an act.

She was not like them, and Roy was furious.

because Riza was far too intelligent to be oblivious to such a glaring difference.

She knew it all, yet decisively chose to ignore it. She never gave him a break.

You’re not like them and you know it.

“Forgive me if it doesn’t appear as such, Sir.”

“I will not shoulder this alone.” In what seemed to be one impossibly swift, singular move, Roy dodged trunks and suitcases, He stepped to her. He got in her face. And, nearly growled,

“I’ve been aware of this,” he said.

Whatever this was. He motioned from him to her, throwing his arms into the air.

“I’ve been aware of the constant existence of all of this for years. I will not take the blame just because you suddenly caught up.”

“For years, Sir?” She cut, unwavering even with his face inches from hers. She still stood firm and topped him childishly.

“I’ve been aware of it for more than a decade.”

Knowing very well it was juvenile, yet chucking her most rational analysis into the wind. She didn’t care. She wanted to win.

They had both been aware. For so long. Since the beginning. And, they had never stopped being aware,

through fire and sand, blood and pain.

That connection, that bond,

was always there, all of it.

This piece, however. This piece they successfully made so small, broke into tiny pieces.

This physical piece, this raw, honest piece,

well, as mentioned, the other shoe had finally dropped, struck out of the blue, revived the past, and sealed their doom.

Still, she wasn’t prepared for him to start yelling. “Then why aren’t we DOING anything about it?”

Ling and Lan Fan must have heard that.

They would size up quickly that the General and his Captain were both in the wrong room, both wearing next to nothing, and pushed up against the wall, together.

They could no longer be Roy and Riza. They would always be General Mustang and Captain Hawkeye,

Riza was mortified that she even thought for a second that perhaps it was possible, possible to break free.

But, this was illegal, yet, more importantly,

it was wrong.

She bit her lip, lifted her chin, swallowed her pride, and said sternly,

“Don’t be obtuse, Sir.”

Then she turned her back to him. No more needed to be said or explained.

“You know very well why.”

They had a goal. They had a dream. They had lost their right.

She wouldn’t be accused of ignoring all of this, when he had kept up the charade just the same all for the greater good.

He had suggested she be Riza. She had let him be Roy.

Abandon their rank, forget their responsibility, their duty,

and resurrect who they once were, how they once existed, that state, that place, together.

He knew why they buried that existence, abandoned that place, remained static. He knew why, and she would not let him pretend it was her fault.

“I’m going back to my room,” she said.

But, before she could turn the knob, Roy’s arm braced the door.

“Wait.”

She expected an apology of some sort. She expected a grave discussion, filled with pain and regret, shame and sadness,

a conclusion.

But, instead, the air shifted quickly. Roy stared at her, cleared his throat.

Her blonde hair tangled, and her cheeks red from sweating, and kissing, and yelling, and scolding. Even her trademark glare, the one reserved for when he behaved so so stupidly, foolishly.

all of that was kind of smoking hot.

Ugh.

She deserved more than to be gawked at like “one of his girls,” real or no. Roy sighed heavily, guilty.

He looked her, up and down, and decided on the most effective solution.

“You have to put on pants.”

She scoffed. Could he not control himself? Men are so weak, she may have grumbled,

of course, knowing she shouldn’t be so quick to judge, when for every second of their conversation, Riza remained so close to utterly begging her General to lift her again, and pick right up where they left off.

“We’re in separate rooms now, Sir,” she bit back. Sir, not Roy.

It couldn’t be Roy anymore. “It doesn’t make a difference.”

She turned the knob. He eased it back shut.

“It absolutely does.”

“How exactly?” She challenged him, gritting her teeth, her fingers itching to run through his hair again.

He was right there. She could just grab him if she wanted.

So, she at least partially understood when he practically pleaded

“You have to put something on,” Roy tripped over his voice, “I have to know you are fully clothed before you leave this room.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, Sir All of our belongings are in the other room.” But, he was desperate, so Roy examined what seemed like hundreds of boxes cluttering the room, forcing them to stand even closer, no matter where they turned.

“Then we’ll find you something of Lan Fan’s”

“I will not break into someone’s personal luggage just so you can restrain yourself effectively,” she bit back resolutely.

Roy’s black eyes grew darker with utter despair. It was so silly, and so gravely serious all at the same time,

“I’m begging you, Riza. I can’t-“

Riza’s jaw locked.

And, of course, it was just something in Roy Mustang’s eyes and voice and face and sincerity and everything, that always got her.

She looked him up and down, and decided the most effective solution.

“If I have to get dressed, you do too.” She countered. Once again, childish. Once again, not caring in the least.

“You mean a shirt?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, sir, I mean a shirt.”

“You mean this shirt?”

Roy tugged on the hem of his t-shirt, loose around her body. Then he had the sudden and intense fear he was going to rip it off her,

so he pulled away.

“No,” she mocked lightly, “We’ll have to find you something of Ling’s”

“He’s seventeen,” he said, hacking a laugh.

Was she serious? She couldn’t be serious.

Him without a shirt was way less problematic than her without pajamas all together.

Riza tilted her head, cold as ever, hell bent on utter revenge.

“We’ll find you something of Lan Fan’s then.” “Not funny,” he grumbled.

He was once a scrawny, skinny kid. She would tease him when they were young, only on occasion, when his head got too big.

Perhaps he could never actually fit into a petite sixteen year old girl’s clothing,

even when he was younger, but his old silly insecurities certainly made him feel that it might have been true.

It certainly wasn’t true now.

He was toned now, muscled, defined, strong, a soldier - Riza was choking.

“You put on a shirt.,” she demanded, distracting herself, “Or, I will walk out of this room as I am, and you will simply have to cope. like an adult.”

Roy huffed. Riza straightened.

And, they stared each other down.

He could give her his flannel pants. But, then he would be nearly naked.

She could give him her shirt, but then she would also be almost entirely undressed.

Neither of them could handle any of that.

And, neither of them had the strength or patience to find traditional Xingese formal garb that fit well enough to sleep in and could be returned by sunrise, appearing not-slept-in, and wedding ready.

Plus, most honestly, they probably wouldn’t have made it through even one box without giving up the search, and deciding to abandon what clothes they were wearing altogether.

Every option was simply a step in the wrong direction.

Every move made it easier, simpler, to finish shedding all final, utterly unwanted barriers, that had held them back for 10 years.

They were already out of uniform. They were already half dressed.

They were stuck.

Riza Hawkeye the invincible versus Roy Mustang the indomitable.

There was no way out, so they had to cave, give in to the lesser of two unfavorable solutions.

It would be a common assumption that whoever stripped down and handed over their respective article of clothing, would be dubbed the loser.

But, let it be known, that Riza Hawkeye, when she did rip her commanding officer’s garment over her head, and threw it at Roy’s face, both a ghostly pale, and a red hot pink,

Riza Hawkeye had most certainly won.

“Enjoy your shirt, Sir” she said curtly, turning on her heels, chin up, perfect posture,

in nothing but smooth, perfect black underwear.

Riza left. Roy nearly suffocated.

Game over.

My fav of the four. One chapter left. Reblog, tags, comments, likes. I crave attention. Share in my love for Royai. They are beautiful.

#myroyai #royai #roy mustang #riza hawkeye #fma #fmab #royai fanfiction #royai smut #Three #Lan Fan #Ling Yao #LingFan #oh boy

31 notes · View notes

ellanainthetardis · 6 years

Note

Prompt: post-mj Haymitch feels a little insecure about his body and Effie assure him that she thinks he's very attractive

I made it Games Time instead [ff]

Breakfast Time In The Penthouse

Effie pursed her lips, instinctively crossingher arms in front of her chest in a show of irritation. She wasn’t quite surprised, it had happened before after all, but she couldn’t say walking in thepenthouse’s living room to find Haymitch lying stark naked on the couch was herfavorite thing.

At least, not when she wasn’t the oneresponsible for his naked state.

Her eyes darted from the heap of clothes thathad been haphazardly tossed on the floor to the half empty bottle on the coffeetable – the fact that the bottle still held any alcohol at all meant he hadalready been wasted when he had come back. She studied him next, noted theabsence of telling marks on his body, the lack of used condoms around and shebreathed a small sigh of relief that she did her best to hide because she knewhe wasn’t asleep.

It wouldn’t have been cheating if he had beenwith another woman. They had never agreedit would be. But lately… She chased that thought away, filled it under impossibilities that shouldn’t beentertained. It was getting dangerously exclusive, this thing between them.And when it wasn’t… Well, neither of them brought other lovers back to thepenthouse. That too hadn’t been voiced explicitly but it was a common courtesygiven that they shared the place. Still, it bothered her. The idea that hecould have been with someone else bothered her.

He had an arm thrown over his eyes to hide fromthe daylight creeping through the bay window. His breathing was deep andregular but there was no snoring – soft or otherwise – and if he had truly beenasleep, there would have been. He snored when he slept on his back, that wasamongst the intimate things she knew about him.

“Gonna say something or just stand there andstare all day?” he muttered eventually.

She was hit all over again by how differentthey were.

There she was, at seven in the morning, dressedand ready for the day, eager for some coffee and a task to fulfill. Meanwhile,he was sprawled on the couch, butt naked and without a care in the world,probably planning on wasting the day away.

Sometimes she wondered how she could be so hungup on him at all.

Because she washung up. It had come to the point when she compared everyone to him andeveryone was found lacking. Not snarky enough. Too hypocritical. Too shallow.Too… Or rather, not enough.

“Anyone could walk in, Haymitch.” she saidafter a few seconds, because it was her line and they often tended to fall backonto their roles like they were in a play. The bossy cheerful escort and thegrumpy slob mentor. “We had this discussion before.”

“The kids are dead.” he snorted. “Who’s gonnawalk in except you? Avoxes? I’m guessing they saw worse.”

The kids are dead…

The pang of pain was almost strong enough tomake her waver but her face remained blank. Ten years. It had been ten years ofdead children. It never hurt any less but she had learned to keep it toherself.

She wondered if that was why he had gotten sodrunk that he couldn’t have made the trip back to his room. He often gotwasted, she was used to that, but wasted enough that he would rather collapsenaked in the living-room? That was a special brand of bad.

She hadn’t heard him come in. If she had, shewas ready to bet he would have been in one of those weird moods when all hewanted to do was hold her and letting her hold him. He told her things when hewas like that sometimes, things he would never have mentioned otherwise and heprobably didn’t remember having shared in the mornings. Anecdotes about hisbrother, how his mother used to frown at him when she had caught him trying tosneak out of the house to meet his girlfriend, stories of his first few yearsas a mentor he wasn’t proud of, how pointless he felt his life was…

She was grateful that he wasn’t a violentdrunk. It happened, of course, but mostly alcohol in large quantity made himmorose and longing for human comfort. Small mercies, she supposed. His temperusually only flared when he was sober or buzzed. And it was a bad temper. Butit was something else she liked about him, which she would never have confessedunder torture, he told things straight. He got angry when he was angry. Henever pretended to be someone he wasn’t. He pushed the act to its extremesometimes, particularly with the drunken antics and the urge to make himselfthe butt of the joke, but he never took advantage of his friends.

“Where were you?” she asked.

He groaned. “What? You’re my keeper now?”

She was,in fact, his keeper. It might not have been in the job description but beingTwelve’s escort wasn’t just about taking care of the tributes. That had been along established fact. Haymitch never behaved and needed close supervision.Well… She was good at keeping him on the narrow dangerous line between carelessand subversive; it was the reason why she hadn’t been promoted and probablywould never be even if they were all happy to pretend it might still happen.

“It israther a stupid question, I suppose.” she hummed, pursing her lips further.“You were with Chaff. That man is a terribleinfluence.”

“Careful.” he growled, never keen on beinglectured on his best friend.

“I call it as I see it.” she snapped. “He tookyou to one of those shady bars he likes so much, didn’t he? You know it is not good for Twelve’sreputation for you to be seen there. And, truly,if you are going to get this drunk, can’t you do it here? Those parts of town aren’t safe.”

“Is that concern, sweetheart? How touching.” he mocked, lifting his arm tolook at her only to wince when the light hit his eyes and place his arm back onhis face. “This place needs curtains.” he muttered unhappily. His features werestrained now. His jaw was clenched. “Be a good girl and find me some pills formy head…”

“Perhaps you should go to your room where youwill find pills and darkness andwhere nobody would have to stare at your penis.” she retorted.

“I move, I puke.” he warned with a shrug. Sherolled her eyes and let out a long deep sigh that was meant to let him knowjust how irritating he was before turning on her heels to fetch the usualhangover treatment. The clicking of her stilettos echoed in the otherwisesilent room and he groaned. “Do you haveto keep those on?”

She took great pleasure in stomping her heelsharder.

She came back after a couple of minutes with atall glass of water, a tablet of pills, a cold cloth for his eyes and a bucketjust in case. And because she was that nice,she also fetched a tray from the dining-room where breakfast had been served,waiting for them to partake in. She dismissed the Avox girl when she stepped upas if to carry the food, not keen on anyone eyeing Haymitch’s private parts.

Of course, Haymitch protested at the smell offood but when she forced a piece of blueberry muffin in his mouth, he startedchewing and stopped complaining. She perched on the edge of the couch, next tohis hip, letting him wriggle closer to the back to accommodate her and grumbleabout how annoying she was. For the most part, she didn’t speak. She sipped hercoffee and nibbled on her toast, sometimes pressed pieces of muffin against hislips until he opened up and ate them, but generally let him lie there with thatcloth on his eyes, being miserable.

She could feel his warmth, particularly wherehis hip was digging in the small of her back. He was always warm and sheenjoyed that. She was like a lizard. She loved being hot.

She enjoyed the smell a lot less. He smelt likebooze, faint tobacco, sweat and the ripe odor of unwashed skin.

“DareI ask what shenanigans you got up to last night?” she asked when she washalfway down her glass of orange juice.

She wasn’t as calm about his night out as shemade it sound. If there had been a scandalous stunt involved, it would fall onher to handle the backlash. And he and his friends were more likely than not toget involved in stupid scandalous stunts. The fact that she hadn’t been calledto the Peacekeeper station to fetch them probably was a good sign though.

“Just a club.” he mumbled. “Chaff wanted to getlaid.”

“When doesn’the want to get laid?” she scoffed under her breath.

She knew Haymitch had been a bit of a playerbefore they had settled into… whatever this non-officially-exclusive thing wasthey had going on, but he had calmed down, either because he was growing in ageor because he found what he needed with her. Chaff, on the other hand, wasstill very eager to have sex with every willing woman he met.

‘Everyone copes like they can’ Haymitch hadtold her once.

She wasn’t fond of Chaff’s way of coping,mainly because he didn’t seem to grasp that she didn’t like it when he tried togrope her. And he tried every two days. And it was worse when he was drunk,which he was quite often.

“Didn’t go so well.” he admitted, blindingfeeling around for the glass of water he had left on the floor. He swallowed whatwas left of it, probably wondering if he should share the tale or not. On somedays – most days lately – they were friendly, on others they acted as if theystill loathed and hated each other. She wasn’t in the mood for aconfrontational day so she finished her orange juice and grabbed the rest ofhis muffin, forcing it in his hand when he placed the empty glass of waterdown.

“He has a reputation.” she hummed. Everyoneknew he slept around. Everyone knew, also, that it would a good night but thatit would go no further. Having had sex with a victor was a wonder for one’sreputation but Chaff… Well, there was no using Chaff to up one’s reputationwhen everyone else knew he had used you full point. Besides, by now, he musthave screwed his way through half the city.

“Wasn’t that.” Haymitch made a face, taking abite of the muffin. Crumbs fell everywhere and she didn’t resist the urge tobrush them off his chest. His mouth quirked up in amusement but he didn’tmention it. He adjusted the cloth on his eyes with his free hand. It wasn’tthat damp anymore and she suspected it was even a little useless but she didn’tcall him out on it. “The girls he picked…”

“Ofcourse there was one for you too.” she growled, reaching on the breakfasttray for the chocolate muffin she had told herself she wouldn’t eat because itwould mean ten more minutes on the running mill later on.

The things one did to keep their figure…

She gave a sad regretful look to the pastry andthen cut small pieces of it and let the chocolate melt on her tongue with raptpleasure. She must have made some sound of appreciation because Haymitchsnatched the cloth off his face and watched her with slightly bloodshot greyeyes.

His gaze was riveted to her mouth and since shedidn’t think he was particularly fond of her moss green lipstick, she deducedshe must have some chocolate crumbs there. She licked her lips for a goodsecond, making sure there was no traces left.

“You’re trying to kill me?” he snorted quiteseriously. “’Cause you make those sounds and you do this… Ain’t really in shape for that,Princess. Except if you want my head to blow.”

She gave him an innocent look that a quick peekto his groin quickly betrayed.

She smiled when she realized he was actuallyinterested. It was always good to know.

“Continue.” she requested, keeping herappreciation for the chocolate pastry to herself. She didn’t particularly wantto listen to how he had seduced a random woman in a club but she would haveliked to know how far things had gone with her. Morbid curiosity. Or maybe shesimply liked to hurt herself.

“They were too young.” he said after a fewseconds, making a face even as he said it. “Twenty or something.”

Which to his thirty-six years of age was quitea difference. Never mind chaff who was already past forty.

She had always liked older men but distinguished ones, those who didn’t actdesperate to score a younger woman. Thoseones… Well those ones, women tended to make fun of.

“I am surprised you went for it at all.” sheremarked, trying hard to keep any trace of jealousy or possessiveness from hervoice. “They must have been veryattractive.”

The amused smirk told her she was beingabsolutely transparent.

“They were young.”he replied as if it explained everything and, she supposed, for most men itdid. It was such a Capitol thing to say that it threw her though. Haymitchwasn’t like that. He wasn’t… “Chaffwas all over them.” He said it casually, barely put a stress on his friend’sname, but it was enough for her to relax. Chaff would have been all over them, it was like him. Haymitch… Haymitch wouldn’t have. “Told him to call it quitafter five minutes. They were fussy. Kept asking us to buy them fancy cocktailswith ridiculous names… Kept expecting to serve them hand and foot…” He rolledhis eyes. “That’s more Finnick’s play than mine. Got annoyed real fast. ButChaff kept telling me he needed a wing man and…” He waved what was left of themuffin dismissively. “They weren’t really bright those girls. Heard themtalking, giggling together… Making fun of us.”

His voice trailed off and Effie winced, onlytoo aware of the kind of talk she and her friends had when they were flirtingwith men they had no intention of sleeping with only to get free drinks.

“Chaff must have been crushed.” she teased.

“Not much can crush Chaff.” he snorted aroundthe last of his muffin.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, truly,Haymitch.” she scowled, brushing crumbs off his chest again. Her hand lingereda little, a touch possessive. “So not at all a successful night.”

Haymitch slumped further down the couch,bending a leg. She propped her forearm on it, placing her chin on it to watchhim. Not quite a proper stance but he was naked and they were alone. Nobodywould know.

“Well, we got wasted. That was fun.” he muttered. “Didn’t have to awkwardly brush anyone offat the end of the night either, I count that as a win.”

“Do you often brush off women you spend a wholenight seducing?” she grinned. He shot her a dark look and she got the messageclear enough. She dropped it. They didn’t talk about this. They didn’t talkabout what they did – or didn’t do –with other people. Still, she couldn’t help it. At the thought of him and Chafftrying to charm the pants off two twenty years old, she laughed. “That young?Really?”

“Not my choice. Chaff picked them up.” hegrumbled, jerking his knee once in retribution. She didn’t let herself beshrugged off though. “Nasty chicks. Said some stuff…” He scoffed. “Doesn’tmatter.”

But it clearly did matter because he was sulking, avoiding her eyes.

“What did they say?” she frowned.

“Chaff got the worst of it.” he mumbled. “Madefun of his missing hand. That sort of classy stuff.”

“Did they make fun of your drinking?” Shepursed her lips, already trying to devise ways in which she could find thosegirls and make their life a living hell.

“Some.” he scowled. “Mostly…” He fell silent.“It’s stupid stuff. Doesn’t matter.”

He was protesting too much but she didn’tinsist. She ran her nails up and down his thigh very purposefully instead.

“How is your head?” she hummed.

The leg she was propped on stretched and shewas pulled on his chest when she fell. It was answer enough.

She only rethought that brilliant idea when hekissed her because his morning breath was almost enough to make her tipsy but his only reaction when she complainedwas to chuckle. She had forgotten all about it by the time he had rolled themover.

“Naked on the couch, Trinket…” he teasedafterwards, once she lied slumped and limp on her stomach on his chest, herhips trapped between his legs. “How improper…Anyone could come in…”

“Oh, shutup.” she scoffed, drifting off a little. Her fingers were running distractedlyon his side, accidentally matching the patterns he was drawing on her shoulderblades.

His chuckles were a rumble under her cheek.

He had a point though. They really shouldn’thave stayed there, it really wasn’t done. On the other hand, they had notributes left to care for and they weren’t expected anywhere until that night’sparty.

It wasn’t long before he was toying with herhair. She wasn’t sure where her wig had disappeared to. Perhaps behind thearmchair.

“You think I’m fat?”

She had to do a double take at that questionbecause, truth be told, it was something shemight have asked but had never expected himto.

“Fat?” she repeated.

“Yeah, fat.” he scowled.

Her hand roamed up and down his side. His skinwasn’t smooth like hers was. There were small flaws, the occasional small bumpof a faint scar… She let her fingers move to his chest, circle his dark nipple onceonly to let them drift to his stomach…

“Absolutely not.” she huffed. He had no realabs to speak of and his stomach wasn’t firm but she would never have called himfat. A few years back, when he hadreally let go of himself… Well, one remark about beer bellies had been enoughto get him back on regularly chopping wood and chopping wood was a good way tokeep in shape. He didn’t really feed as he should to begin with. She suspected thatwhen he wasn’t in the Capitol and didn’t have her to drag him to the diningtable, he didn’t always eat three meals a day either because he forgot orcouldn’t be bothered. “Is that what those women were saying?”

“Amongst other things.” he snorted. “Used to beeasy to pick up girls, you know. Guess I got used to being called handsome.”

“You arehandsome.” she protested, propping herself up on his chest to look at him. “Ido not sleep with unattractive men.” He lifted a knowing eyebrow and she rolledher eyes. “You are handsome,Haymitch.” There was nothing shedidn’t like about his body. Even his weird shaped toes. He was strong and manlyin ways no Capitol man could hope to be. Being with him thrilled her. “What do twenty year old girls know about men?”

“You thought you knew quite a lot if I rememberright.” he taunted.

“And you called me stupid three times a day.”she pointed out.

“Still do.” he smirked, his mood visiblylifting.

“So attractive and yet so rude.” shedeadpanned.

“That’s what turns you on.” he accused. “Youlike the bad boy vibes.”

She rested her cheek back on his chest, humoringhim. “Of course.”

He coiled her hair around his hand, giving agentle tug. “Knew it.”

Perhaps finding Haymitch naked on the couchfirst thing in the morning wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

#hayffie #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #prompt #games time #teapot #hurt comfort #protective effie #drunk haymitch #coconuts friends #jealousy

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