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rmg91 · 3 years

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Zoe Week; Day 6-A Night Off

AKA Comfort Zoe Night

So, this was the first prompt I actually wrote cause it spoke the most to me (the fluffy potential) but then the muses decided to be difficult and I struggled with it until like 2 days before Zoe Week began. I also wound up scrapping my partial first draft and re-writing the first bit to be slightly based off some wonderful Teny art because I realized it could still fic with my idea! (Gotta love great art that inspires) (The art in question is those wonderful pics of Zoe and Douxie as he meets her after a shift at Hextech and then precedes to be a little shit) Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this one and hopefully it doesn’t end too abruptly, like I said the muses wanted to be difficult with this one.

AO3

~*~*~*~*~*~

The night was clear and cool, something that would usually bring calm to the pink haired witch as she walked home from another busy day at Hex-Tech but not tonight. The day had been absolutely brutal. First she'd had the early shift, which was never fun, then she'd been assigned to the bar for almost the entirety of her shift which meant dealing with all sorts of customers. The irritable, the entitled, the ones that just wouldn't listen, it had almost driven her insane by the time her lunch break arrived. It was only after slurping down a cup of noodles and sending a curse heavy text on how crappy her day had been so far to Douxie that she got the wonderful news that she had to work a double shift. She was so going to curse Dave the next time she saw him, she always got his shifts whenever he didn't come in. And of course that extra shift came with, you guessed it, more bar duty! So Zoe had dealt with double the awful customers! Including two absolute Karen's. Why her managers kept putting her in the front when her talents lay better with the tech itself, she'd never understand.

At least she was finally off for the weekend...

Coming around the last corner before her apartment building, she spied her longtime partner and lover, Hisirdoux, leaning against the chain-link fence, waiting for her. She paused for a moment, taking in the rare relaxed air around him and admiring his bare biceps for a moment before sighing, knowing why he was waiting for her. And usually she'd be ready to go hunt Niffins and take on whatever else they might encounter on a Friday night, especially after the day she had, but she was too beat to do anything more. So shifting her bag in her grip, she made her way closer to the wizard, not looking forward to canceling their plans.

“Ah! The fair lady approaches!” He exclaimed, noticing her first with a smirk before his face soften, “Rough day, Love?”

“Uuugg!! You have no idea!!” She groaned, knowing her text had said as much but now she could rant in person about just how bad it actually was. Stopping next to him, she ran her fingers through her hair before rubbing at her temples, trying to push down the migraine that had been brewing since two o'clock, “Not only did fuckin' Dave not come in, we had two, Two, Karen's come in! I was almost certain we'd have a third but thankfully her husband calmed her down. Of course then that entitled Spanish teacher had to come in, again, who, of course, I had to deal with! Not to mention all the other sorts that came in today... And! Because the universe's law apparently decided to hate me today, someone calls right before closing!” She groaned again, feeling annoyed anew rather than relieved after her rant. “Anyway, as much as I'd like to go Niffin hunting, I'm just too beat-!”

Distracted as she was with her rant, the hedge-witch hadn't noticed Douxie's arm sneaking around her before he wrapped it around her shoulder and laid a kiss on her head. He hummed into her hair, nuzzling her softly, “I'm so sorry your day sucked, Darling.”

“Yeah, well...” Zoe felt her cheeks heat up, sinking into the hug he started to give her and feeling most of the fight leave her suddenly. You'd think after almost five hundred years of being together romantically this sap wouldn't cause such a reaction but you'd be wrong. “It's over now, I guess...And I have the weekend off thankfully.”

“That you do~” Douxie sang into her ear before suddenly rubbing his hand over her head vigorously and messing up her hair, “And I'm sure you'll feel much better after a good nights sleep!!”

“Aaarrgggg!!!” Zoe cried out in surprise and anger, “Hisirdoux!!” She pushed him away, glaring at his grin before marching away, “Jerk! Why do I like you again?!”

“Because without me and Arch your life would be dreadfully boring~?”

She huffed and flattened down her hair, “Hardly.” She then glared over her shoulder, “You are so sleeping on the couch tonight, or better yet, your own apartment when you get done.” She honestly wondered why she put up with his antics.

Douxie merely laughed some more, catching up to her and wrapping his arm around her waist, “Actually, Love, I've decided we're all taking the night off.” When she looked up at him with a disbelieving look he responded, “Really! Wards are already in place around town, so if there's any trouble, Arch and I can go take care of it but otherwise...” The wizard shrugged, “We're all off for the night and you have a little surprise waiting for you~”

“A surprise? Really?” She glared up at him, still annoyed, “I doubt whatever it is will make up for that stunt you just did...”

“I think it will~!” He sang.

Zoe huffed and crossed her arms, muttering a 'whatever' and allowing him to escort her to her apartment building and up to her home. Entering, she dropped her bag and kicked her shoes off by the door, striding over to where Archie was laying on the back of the couch and greeting the familiar with a chin scratch. Glancing around she saw nothing out of the ordinary with the exception that her sink was now empty of the few dishes she'd left there. If that was her so called 'surprise' than it was going to take a lot more than him doing her dishes for her to calm down from that surprise noogie. Lifting an eyebrow at the wizard, silently asking just what exactly he had planned, she watched him grin again before he offered up his arm to her.

“Come with me, Milady~ Your surprise awaits~”

Looking back down at Archie, the black cat merely stretched and stated, “I've been sworn to secrecy.”

Right, of course. Rolling her eyes, the pink hair witch allowed Douxie to guide her down her own hallway, stopping in front of the bathroom. Usually she could sniff out an idea on what he liked to surprise her with but tonight between her exhaustion and the fact that she was still a little annoyed with him, made her question just what he could've set up in the bathroom of all things.

Grinning down at her, Douxie gently pushed the door open and snapped his fingers. A dozen candles lit with the small pulse of magic, illuminating the simple space with a soft orange light and revealing the steaming, bubble filled bath. The light aura of blue magic indicated a warming spell, keeping it the perfect temperature for when she got home. Zoe let out a soft breath, feeling most of her annoyance leave, and leaned against him, letting him wrap his arms around her and nuzzle the top of her head. Trust this wonderful sap to fix her up something like this after she'd rough day at work. Sometimes Zoe wondered just what she did to have someone like Hisirdoux Casperan in her life but she certainly wasn't going to be ungrateful about it. She was even willing to let the whole noogie thing go...mostly.

“I want you to know I don't completely forgive you for that stunt outside but this...is a nice surprise.” She could even make out the light scents of tangerine and patchouli wafting from some of the candles. “And you can't always get away with something like that either.”

He chuckled low, placing a soft kiss on her head, “Of course, Love~” He carefully stepped back, bowing in an exaggerated manner as he gestured to the bathroom, “Now, do please enjoy, Milady, and once you're are done a meal will be ready for you.”

She snorted, “You can't cook.”

He clicked a pair of finger guns at her, “No but I can work an oven!” He then left her to her own devices with a final grin.

Zoe rolled her eyes and shook her head fondly. Gods he was a dork.

~*~*~*~

Twenty minutes later found Zoe happily relaxing in her bath, feeling better after the day she'd had, eyes closed as she listened the soft tunes playing from her small radio. She had to hand it to Douxie, he had thought of everything when setting all this up. The candles were the right amount of light, the radio was already set to play and the bath was filled with her favorite brand of bubble bath. There had even been a rolled up towel for behind her head as she leaned back in the tub. Humming along softly to the music, Zoe only wished for one last thing to make this perfect.

As if summoned by her thoughts, the door opened slowly just enough to allow a wine glass surrounded by blue magic to float in. Laughing lightly, she grabbed it out of the air, taking a sip before calling out, “Thank you but you could've given me it in person.”

“A gentleman never intrudes on a lady.” Was her response before she was left alone again to enjoy her bath.

~*~*~*~

Zoe eventually emerged, having stayed long enough for her fingers to prune slightly and for the water to grow cold, plus her stomach kept protesting the lack of food. So she made her way into the living room wrapped in one of Douxie's old bad shirts and a hoodie she had stolen, breathing in the scent of a freshly cooked frozen pizza. She was passed a plate with two large slices of her favorite kind, three meat with extra mushrooms, and had her glass refilled before being pointed over to go recline on the couch. Shaking her head, she followed the silent order and sat down, digging in before her boys were settled. Archie was passed a plate of salmon and sardines before Douxie joined her, his own plate balanced in a hand.

“So, what does the lady wish to watch tonight?” He asked, reaching for the remote and flipping through channels.

“Hmm...” The pinkette hummed, tucking her knees under her before taking a large bite of her pizza, “Don't really care. Just find something we can zone out to or make fun of.”

“As you wish~”

“Oh gods, no! Do not put that movie on!” She exclaimed, “I will kick you out if you do!”

Douxie laughed, almost spilling his dinner, “Very well! Not in the mood for it tonight.” He continued to chuckle as he flipped through more choices before settling on another horribly inaccurate film of a time they've lived through.

Later, once food was eaten and their movie had changed to something else, Zoe was snuggled against Douxie's side, on the verge of sleep. Archie was a ball of purring warmth on her lap and Douxie kept running soothing circles on her arm as she listened to his heartbeat. The witch was once again grateful to have these two in her life, not knowing just where she'd be without them. They made the bad days better. Wither it was helping her with a sprained ankle from running from goblins, helping her fight of a demon hellbent on kidnapping all the girls in a village or having to deal with crappy customers all day, they were always there beside her. Even if Douxie loved to take cheep shots that ultimately pissed her off even more. Zoe knew she'd always forgive him. And so, full, relaxed and loved, she fell asleep.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Aaahhh, Zoe loves her dork~ And gotta love cheesy endings lol! Hope you enjoyed and aahh!! Zoe week is almost over!

#ZoeAppreciationWeek #Zoe Week #Zoe #Douxie #Zouxie #Archie #ToA #Tales of Arcadia #Tales of Arcadia Wizards #Wizards #Fanfiction #Fluff

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lizacstuff · 3 years

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SCK episode 46 asks!

Hi folks, below the read more you'll find a smattering of asks about this week's episode as well as a few spoilers for 47.

Good asks this week:

(under the cut)

Anonymous asked: this may be superficial of me, but why are they dressing Serkan in such ugly tops? they finally brought Eda's hair back but now this

BWAH! You're not wrong. You know what I'm wondering, if they've put him in some of those outfits because they are showing his suburban dad side? It's kind of a subtle nod to him embracing father hood and a different way of life? He's now all about running around the yard after his daughter and not about what he looks like when he's being SERKAN BOLAT, FAMOUS BUSINESS MAN and WORLD'S BEST ARCHITECT.

Also, Eda's hair, thank goodness they let that go once the flashbacks were over and we didn't need something to distinguish between then and now! Those curly bangs were not it.

Anonymous asked: They built up the Edser chemistry soooooo well throughout the episode... for that ending? Who decided to cut it there?! The scene was BEAUTIFUL I’m actually upset lol. are not we going to see any more? I’m not asking for a sex scene, I wanted to see THE moment they decided to get back together (the tattoo line doesn’t do it for me) - a few words, tears as they embrace, him walking through the door as she closes it, one passionate kiss, something! But it doesn’t feel like a cliffhanger that continues next week. I’ll be so underwhelmed when they cut to the morning after and we have to infer that they got back together overnight *sigh* if they were allowed 1 kiss only, id rather it have been here instead of ep 2

We do deserve to see how they reconcile, that should be one of the biggest moments of the season after 7 episodes of build up to it.

90% of final scenes in this show have continued uninterrupted the next week. To me there's no reason to think the next episode won't pick up right where this one left off. Crossing fingers!

Anonymous asked: It just hit me that Serkan is the “Kiraz” for Kemal - but Kemal actually missed his child’s whole 35 years 😬 this is an interesting turn of events. Also that line Serkan said about how fathers should love their child’s mother and how he didn’t have that with his own parents....but his real dad does love Aydan, more than she deserves haha.

Oh so true! Kemal really does love his mother more than she deserves! How he puts up with her, I don't know.

The parallel between Serkan/Kemal and Kiraz/Serkan is strong and I hope it gives Serkan some perspective when he starts grappling with this knowledge. I'm sure it's going to be very disconcerting for him, because while he expected to never see his father again, Alptekin is still his father. He's still the man who raised him and formed him into the man he is. Serkan still runs the company he founded and bears his name.

I don't expect any of that to change, but hopefully he can forge a separate relationship with Kemal that might fill some emotional holes that he has and bring him some peace.

None of that even contemplates how Kemal will feel, thankfully Aydan didn't willfully hide the truth from him. How awful to realize you lost 35 years.

We aren't there yet, but I wonder at what age with Kiraz learn the truth, that her dad is not an astronaut, that her parents went through hell with with cancer and plane crashes, and that her father didn't know of her existence until right before they met?

Just something to think about.

Anonymous asked: i'm so happy for hanker, don't get me wrong, and i'm also so happy we get "together" edser for so many episodes until the end, but i'm already tired of the constant "hanker improvising" comments i know i will be seeing. not that they don't improvise in some scenes, but i just know that every romantic edser scene is gonna be analyzed to hell bc ppl want to look for hanker in them. like there's no possible way that ayse, the writer ppl hate the most, could write any romantic scenes.. nope no way!

Yes, this is one of my pet peeves, I can't stand the "Edser left the chat" and all the "that's Hanker, not Edser" type conversation. it's so invasive and most of all disrespectful to not only the writers, but Hande and Kerem and all the work they pour into bringing Eda and Serkan to life.

One of the things in fandom that sets my teeth on edge is when folks take some interpretation of the character by the actor and then decide because it wasn't "scripted" (pro tip the vast majority of physical movements the actors make are "unscripted") that it must just be the actors themselves and have nothing to do with the characters. What an embarrassing and naïve assertion. Actors literal job is to take what's on the page and then translate that. So, no, OF COURSE, every look and touch is not scripted. The actors interpret how their characters would think and feel, and what they would do in given moments and then do those things.

Eda is not touching Serkan's arm just because Hande can't hold herself back from touching Kerem. Puh-lease, they are professionals. Grow up.

However, having said all that, I do think there was one scene that seemed to be very improvised this episode. The bean scene in the grocery store did feel like them just eFFing around. LOL.

andhewonherheart asked: @andhewonherheart: SCK promo department is best and worst all at the same time, cause giving away the last (cliffhanger) scene in fragman is just cruel. But based on the next week’s fragman thing happens that we we think happens *wink*

Hee! So true. The thing I'm grateful for is that in season 2 not one fragman has made me dread the episode, I think there was at least one fragman an episode from 29-37 that was hella upsetting.

As far as I'm concerned these fragmans are doing there job, making me want to watch.

I am really excited for Serkan planning how he's going to ask Eda to marry him, I wonder what Kiraz's reaction is going to be. So far she's been their very own cupid!

Anonymous asked: I didn't find it surprising that Serkan removed his tattoo as soon as Eda left. His logic is always out of sight out of mind though it doesn't work. He did the same when he broke up with her when he found out about the death of her parents. He removed all of her belongings. But their memories are too strong and enough for him to continue to remember her.

Truth! Will he ever learn that it's never going to work? He'll never be able to erase Eda, she has left an indelible mark on his soul. Let's hope he's never faced with that situation again! From here on out, he and Eda are together, a unit, and will live a long life together and in love.

Anyone have any guesses where Eda's tattoo is? Will we find out or will it remain between the characters.

Anonymous asked: I've seen some people say that Edser are getting married now way too fast and to that I just have to laugh lol. First there were complaints we don't have happy Edser and now when we do, of course there's something else. These two have had a rollercoaster of a year when they first met and a five year separation.. they've been through the dating phase, the engaged phase.. of course they'll head straight to the altar! It's not like Eda's plane proposal and that first wedding wasn't rushed either!

I'm on team head straight to the alter! No more waiting. They've had terrible luck, so they just need to tie the knot and make sure there are no easy outs.

As for people who think it's too fast, they don't even know the storyline yet, I swear there are folks who complain just because that's their personality and they're never satisfied.

Anonymous asked: From some of the spoilers of BTS pics, and the fragman we got, I was just reflecting on this season and Turk romcom dizis in general and I just wanted to say how LUCKY we are to see Edser married (again, from spoilers) and with a kid on screen for more than just 10 minute at the end of the finale. Like, it is really rare and as much as people have nitpicked on this season in general, I feel like watching these last episodes have been such a breeze after the last arc of S1.

Oh agreed, I think these episodes have been very enjoyable. The writers are giving me exactly what I want from this show. Comedy, UST, romance with a little light angst thrown in now and again. I would rewatch this season a dozen times before even thinking about watching anything from the 30s.

We are very lucky that we've got to see them as parents, and actually forming their family. We've gotten so much domestic goodness so far and we still have a ways to go. I'm very appreciative of this season and that Ayse came back, got rid of the constant ridiculous melodrama for melodrama's-sake and is telling a very human story about family and love persevering.

Anonymous asked: the last scene gave me chills for some reason. you could actually see eda fighting her head and her heart and deciding to take the step (metaphorically and physically!) towards him for good. i wanna SUE whoever decided to end it the ep there though.. it was actually cruel. also looking at the next frag.. it makes my heart soft that in the flashbacks we see serkan pushing off their wedding bc of his fears and now he can't propose and get married fast enough.. can't believe we're really getting it

I know, it's almost surreal at this point. Since we're near the end we know it's for real and won't be ruined by psychos or awful family members or terminal illness. I just hope that they give us an emotional scene when they get married, whether its just them or the whole cast is there as guests, after everything they've (we've) been through we need to see them both feeling that moment and reveling in it.

FYI - I'm out of town next weekend, so I may be slower than usual in replying to asks and in posting gifs of 47, but I'll get to it all eventually!

#Sen Çal Kapımı #Sen Cal Kapimi #Edser #sckask #sck episode discussion #edser discussion #asklizac jmo personal life #singles anonym

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wickxdangels · 4 years

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Travis Stoll Imagine; Dream Girl

Hello!! We are back this Monday with a Percy Jackson Imagine! I started reading the series last week and i’m currently on the third book which is so exciting! I love the Stoll brothers so making this imagine was so fun! i hope you guys like it! :) As always, I apologize if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes, please let me know! And also, thank you everyone for the support and the cute comments i’ve been getting on my other stories! I love you all xx (also, sorry i couldn’t find a better pic to place)

Pairing; Travis Stoll x Reader

Warnings; None

Request; Would write a Travis Stoll x reader who is daughter of Ares who’s Clarisse’s second in command/best friend even though they’re opposite personalities and Connor is so sick of Travis’ pining for her that he decides to get them together?

It was a bright, hot and sunny day in Camp Half-Blood; the satyrs were running in the woods playing hide and seek with the dryads, who turned into trees whenever they tried to steal a kiss from them. Young demigods runnings through the camp wearing those bright-eye-cramping orange shirts, some of the kids from the Hermes Cabin were picking up the locks from the Camp Gift Shop. It was pretty much a normal summer day like any other.

Y/n was sitting down on top of a wooden-table, cleaning and filing her sword, it was something she found relaxing and it helped to calm down her ADHD for a bit. Mid-cleaning, she felt a pair of eyes staring into her. This has probably been the fifth time she has felt it in this week alone. She quickly looked up, not finding anyone on reach staring at her, it was infuriating not knowing who those stares belonged to but she brushed it off, it was stupid to get mad at something childish like that.

“Attention, attention, campers.” The voice of Mr. D, the camp director, said as he walked close by to the campers. Lots of them stop what they were doing to look at the news he was about to say. “Today we will be playing Capture The Flag, in about two hours or so, you all know what to do, gear up and blah blah..” That earned the cheers of lots of campers, and Mr. D with a quick a wave of his hand he dismissed them as he kept walking towards the Big House, to play some pinocle perhaps, as he complained how teenagers were always so loud.

Y/n then kept filing her sword as a blonde haired and all girl walked towards her, Clarisse La Rue, her half-sister. “Did you hear that? We’ll finally get to have another reason to beat up some kids and get back our flag from the Blue team!” The girl exclaimed with a sinister smile on her lips.

Y/n simply chuckled at her words and nodded. “Indeed, sis. It’s been too long since the last time we played, that flag needs to be back on Ares’s Team.” she said as she blew on her sword, grinning at her sister as she nodded.

“C’mon, let’s go get something to eat before the game, my stomach is killing me.” Clarisse said as Y/n tagged alone.

Y/n and Clarisse were both daughters of Ares, god of war. They belonged to Cabin 5, where lots of her other half-brothers lived year-round just like both of them. Ares kids shared lots of physical attributes, like their muscular bodies and tall height, meaning all of them looked big and scary, a good pro when it came to war or simple games like the one they were about to play. But when it came to personality, both girls couldn’t be more different.

Clarisse was the designated Camp Half-Blood bully, she was the one that messed with the new campers, just like she did with Percy Jackson. She would find the tiniest of reasons to start a riot and just set the world on fire if she could, just like their father.

Y/n on the other hand, was a bit more calm. Or well, as calm as a daughter of Ares could get. She enjoyed battles, she enjoyed kicking butt from here and there but sometimes she would just get tired of the same old. She wouldn’t pick fights as much as Clarisse did, well, not now anyways. But whenever her sister needed a fighting partner she would be there without a doubt, not giving a damn who started the fight, simply being there to put up a good show.

Some feet away, behind a tree was Travis Stoll, whose favorite hobby has radically changed from picking-up locks or throwing the best pranks in camp with his brother, to spying on Y/n behind trees…or behind anything really. He saw as the girl of his dreams walked away with his most-hated-camper, who was no one else but her sister, Clarisse.

“I really can’t believe you’re still secretly pinning over her, Travis! It’s been what? Four, five years? Don’t you think it’s time to act like a big boy and tell her for once and for all?” His younger brother’s voice made him jump from his hiding spot as he turned around to face him.

“Connor! Do you have to be that loud all the time?” He cried out, grabbing his brothers shoulder as they walked out of the forests and towards their cabin. “And you know I cannot do that, she’s literally my archenemy’s sister! And best friend! Also, not to forget about her dozen of brothers with anger-issues!” Travis complained, sighing as he kicked a little rock that was in his way. “I don’t know why life has to be so hard!”

“Travis, shut up. Jeez, you’re always complaining, it’s been five years! Five of which I had to hear you whining about Clarisse and how she would maim you if you were ever to confess your feelings for Y/n…can’t we get over that? I mean, the day will come when she’ll maim you regardless of your confession or not..” His brother shrugged, placing a comforting arm around him. “Also, I have a bet going on with Pollux.. and for me to earn the money means that you’ll have to confess your feelings for her today…” Connor confessed with a grin on his lips, highlighting his elvish features who looked so much like his brother’s.

Travis stopped mid-way as he stared at his brother, a deadly stare to be exact.

“YOU DID WHAT?” He sort-of yelled at him, making his younger brother grimace a bit. “How much did you bet, though?” He slowly asked, bit interested after all, money was money.

“Around twenty drachmas and some hundred bucks..” Connor shrugged as he scratched the back of his neck. “Is that an ‘okay brother, I’ll make you win the bet’?” He curiously asked with a sheepish smile.

“Ugh, you’re so gonna share that with me. And you’re gonna do my laundry for a month! After all, I don’t know.. I might end up missing a limb..”

“You always love to exaggerate, Travis. Chill, things might turn good.” He shrugged at his older brother as he raised both of his eyebrows in a funny manner.

Two hours later, after getting something to eat and putting on their armors, the Ares cabin walked towards the centre of the camp, there the rest of their allies, Cabins Four, Nine, Ten and Twelve were already in position and armed with their respective weapons of choice.

The blue team stood on their left side, she could’ve sworn she felt the usual stare again and she just knew it came from the blue team. At least she was a bit closer to knowing who her stalker is.

“Attention Campers, let’s get this over with.” Mr. D’s voice resounded through the crowd, besides him stood Chiron, who acted as the referee and was there in case anyone needed medical help. “For tonight’s game of Capture The flag, the blue team is lead by Annabeth and Percy, who have allied with Cabins Seven and Eleven.” He rolled his eyes as he then proceeded. “And Team Red is led by Clarisse and Y/n, who are joined by the remaining cabins.” He was too lazy to mention all of the cabins but it was no surprise coming from him. “You all know the rules by now, the creek is the boundary line, and the entire forest is fair game. Magic items are permitted, killing and maiming—much to my regret—are not.” He sighed as he tiredly placed his hands on his waist.

“I’ll be close by in case anyone is in need of my assistance.” Chiron commented as he looked at the campers in front of him.

“I believe Travis will be needing your assistance later on, Chiron!” Connor joked, making some of their teammates chuckle as Travis could only blush at the statement, he looked towards Y/n, hoping she wasn’t staring at him now, but much to his luck, she was chuckling along with Clarisse who had a deadly stare at him, making him shriver.

“Yeah, yeah. Well kids, off you go now! Shoo!” Mr. D said as he waved his hands, both of the teams were now running towards the forest and the hills.

The Ares cabin took the lead of the rest of the cabins as they ran towards their different positions, some of them were on border patrol duty as other were hiding behind bushes or trees, waiting for the other campers to come by so they could jump on them.

“Y/n, guard our flag! I’ll try to steal theirs!” Clarisse grinned as she ran off towards the lake, Y/n could only chuckle as she grabbed tightly on her sword and ran towards their red flag, ready to fight anyone who came in sight.

As she ran towards the forest, she could see her brothers fighting with the other campers, or well, the enemies. Her battle reflexes came in handy when someone was about to jump on her but she swiftly avoided her, bringing her sword up as she fought a blonde-haired girl from the Athena cabin, quickly disarming her before sending her flying backwards towards a tree with a hard kick on the chest. She’ll definitely be needing some ambrosia after this, she thought.

She chuckled as she kept running, she had missed the feeling of the air hitting in her face as she ran, the way her instincts would work whenever someone was attacking her, the balanced weight of her favorite sword in her hand.

One of the guys from the Apollo cabin came after her, making her chuckle when she easily avoided one of their arrows as it landed on a tree. “That wasn’t very smart, was it?” She asked with a smirk as she then ran towards him and before he could take another arrow, she kicked the bow out of his hands. “Bad choice.” She said before bringing the sword up, the kid was quick to avoid a hit before he tripped backwards on a branch, she was about to keep fighting as one of her brothers came to her.

“I’ve got this punk! Go protect the flag!” Her brother said before she nodded and smirked at the kid.

“Well, you’re just in luck!” She winked at him before running through the forest once again, making sure to avoid any distractions on the way.

Her feet were fast as she ran, ducking whenever she saw an arrow being shot at her and jumping whenever she would meet with a camper passed out on the floor, not many minutes later and the flag was already in her sight, she came closer to it, checking her surroundings for any enemy in sight.

Not many seconds had passed when she heard some steps coming on her way, she quickly jumped on top of a tree branch hiding, she saw as a guy came close to the flag but did not grab it, instead he looked around as if searching for someone.

She then took the advantage and jumped on top of him, making him land with his back on the floor as she had him trapped between her legs. “Huh, a son of Hermes. I thought it would be one of Athena’s kid the one who would come for the flag.” She said as she brought her sword up to his face, he looked just like every other Hermes’s kid, elvish features, curly hair, tall and kind of cute.

“No! Wait! I’m not here for the flag..” He confessed, having her so close to his body made him shriver, luckily his face was already red from the game if not he would be blushing madly.

“You are aware that we are playing Capture The Flag, don’t you?” She chuckled as she stared at him, her eyes looking directly into his blue ones as he felt the shiest he has ever felt in his life.

“Y-yes, yes! What I meant it’s that, I’ve been meaning to confess you something..” He said as she stood up, holding a hand out for him as he slowly grabbed it, she pulled and helped him stand up.

“Okay, now you’re kind of creeping me out, Travis.. What is it?”

“How.. how do you know who I am?” He asked, kind of surprised she didn’t mistake him for his brother, which happened quite a lot.

“We were friends, remember? When I first got here, you were one of that befriended me. I stayed in your cabin for some weeks before Ares claimed me. We used to play pranks on the Aphrodite kids so much that you thought I was one of Hermes kid’s as well.” She said chuckling as he nodded, he remember those times. That was the time when he started to develop his current huge crush on her.

“I.. I didn’t know you remembered that.” He gave her a bright smile as he scratched the back of his neck in a shy manner, something she thought she had never seen before on any kid of Hermes.

“Of course, I do! Now, what were you going to tell me?”

“Oh! That! Well, you see—” sadly he was too slow and too immersed on their chat that he did not see Clarisse flying at him, knocking him off his feet as they rolled down on the floor.

“It was you!” Clarisse yelled as she threw some punches at him, he luckily evaded some but not all of them, so he groaned when she had delivered a square punch to his right eye.

Now that’s gonna leave a nasty bruise, he thought.

“Clarisse! What are you doing? He was gonna say something to me!” Y/n said as she ran towards them, trying to pull her sister off of him.

“It’s him, y/n! He’s the one who’s been lurking behind trees and staring at you!” Clarisse said with disgust as she stood up from top of him, delivering nasty glances at Travis.

“Oh.. so you’re my little stalker, huh?” Y/n said with a smirk on her lips as she looked at Travis, helping him stand as he slowly nodded, grabbing onto his side as he looked embarrassed.

“Okay, I’ll have to say that that wasn’t the smartest thing to do.. but yeah. It was me.” He confessed to her, giving her a little smile as she stared at him. “And besides that, what I wanted to say it’s that… I like you, like, a lot.” he said. “A crazy amount probably, and I know you may not like me back! Knowing that I’m your sister’s most hated person in this camp besides my brother.. and Percy..” he explained

“This is disgusting! Completely disgusting!” Clarisse gagged at the scene in front of her, she has always disliked the Stoll brothers even more after the little prank they pulled on her few years ago.

“I.. I’m quite shocked, actually.” she confessed, her cheeks tinting a light red but when she was about to actually reply to him, she saw how another figure behind Clarisse and Travis took the chance of the flag being unprotected and quickly snatched it.

In the background, all could hear a horn being played in signal that the game has finished.

The result? Blue team were the winners, once again.

It turns out that, Travis’s younger brother Connor, knowing that he was going to confess his feelings towards Y/n, seized the opportunity of us being entertained by his brother’s confession to grab the flag, it was all part of his plan.

Which helped to ignite even more, the hatred Clarisse had towards the Stoll brothers.

The whole game ended up quite quickly after that, with the campers of the blue team cheering for their new victory and the red team growling at them and cursing them out.

Y/n never had the chance to talk to Travis in that moment, seeing how Chiron with other campers, took the injured ones towards the infirmary to help with the wounds.

That’s when Y/n knew it was now or never. She escaped from the celebrations of the night, walking towards the infirmary to check on the wounded Stoll brother. She walked through it, looking at some of the demigods sleeping on the beds and other being taken care by Argus and some dryads. Once he saw the familiar curly hair, she walked towards it, grabbing a pack of ice a girl was carrying towards him. “I can take it from here.” she explained to the girl as she just nodded and left.

She then walked to his bed, sitting down at the edge of it and softly pressing the ice pack on his already-bruised eye. “Who knew.. that purple eye really suits you.” she softly spoke, waking up the prankster from his nap.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?” he asked as he quickly sat up, groaning from the pain as he realized it wasn’t a good idea after all with his bruised ribs.

“Clarisse really did a number on you, didn’t she?” the girl said as she softly helped him to lay down once again, slowly. “I’m sorry about that, she can be easily carried away by her emotions.”

“I really can’t believe you two are sisters, you two are nothing alike.” he said, wincing as he laid down. “You’re gentle and understanding, meanwhile Clarisse would throw a punch at literally anyone who crosses her path.”

“Well, that’s because I have never really fought with you, you know? When we are in battle, that’s when we are scary alike.” she chuckled, holding the ice pack on his eye as they talked. “So.. I never really replied to what you said to me back there.”

“You don’t really have to. I know it must’ve been silly, I just couldn’t really hold it in anymore, you know? You’re so beautiful and so strong! And you love pulling pranks on people, which is so hot! And whenever you’re fighting you’ve got this beautiful frown that—”

“Could you shut up for a second?” she said quickly before a smirk appeared on her lips. “I know I’m hot and all of that, but I just really wanted to say that… I think you’re really cute.” her smirk turned into a smile at him as she looked at him, he could’ve sworn his insides were on fire, which could’ve been due to the punches he’d got but he knew it was because of her smile. “And I would like to see where this could go..”

“Wait! You’re serious, right? This is not a prank, right? Cause that wouldn’t be so hot..” He explained making her giggle. “It’s not a prank, you dummy!” she interrupted him. “I like you, like, a lot.” she smiled, saying the exact words he had said to her back in the forest.

“Oh! Wow! I— I really, don’t know what to say! Jeez, I think I’m blushing again!” Travis confessed with his cheeks flaming red as he looked at her.

“Shh, don’t talk.. Less words and more…actions.” she smirked before laying the ice pack on the bed and slowly leaning her face against his, until their lips were touched; she was careful to grab his cheek, not wanting to hurt his purple eye as he returned the soft kiss she laid on his lips.

It was all he ever dreamed, kissing her felt like drinking ambrosia, her lips tasted so sweet. His stomach felt like the excitement he would get before pulling any prank, multiplied by a hundred. He just knew that this was it. This was all he ever wished for. This was the girl of his dreams.

That was it, until a wave or realization fell over him as she softly pulled away from him. “Oh, gods! now Clarisse is so going to murder me!”

That only made her laugh even more. “Leave her to me, she’s really not that scary, I promise.” she assured him. “Now, what did I say about talking?” she asked.

“Oh! Yes, yes. Less words, more actions, got it!” he smiled mischievously as he then pressed his lips against hers once again.

“Oh, I forgot to ask. What’s the bet Connor has goin on with Pollux about?” she asked, looking at his eyes for a bit before raising his brow.

“Oh, now you shut up. I’ll explain later, I’m badly injured and I demand more kisses.” he said with the cutest little pout she has ever seen, she rolled her eyes. “It’s just some bruised ribs.. and a bruised eye.” she joked before wrapping her arms around him and kissing him again.

#percy jackson #percy jackson imagine #travis stoll #travis stoll imagine #travis stoll x reader #percy jackson x reader #imagine #fanfic #pjo imagine #pjo #connor stoll #connor stoll x reader #clarisse la rue #demigods #cabin five #camp half-blood #olympians #reader #au

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astraeagreengrass · 4 years

Text

Right Where You Are, That’s Where I Am

Sometimes, finding yourself means finding someone

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 1.904

Warnings: Angst, allusions to violence and PTSD, fluffy ending

A/N: This is my submission to @wkemeup’s 4K Writing Challenge. My prompt was “Mariner’s Apartment Complex” by Lana del Rey. Thank you Kas for having me and congratulations on such an impressive milestone! ♡

Disclaimer: I don’t own Bucky Barnes or any other fictional characters mentioned in this story - they are property of Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. The title belongs to Lana Del Rey. The plot is my own creation.

You lose your way, just take my hand You're lost at sea, then I'll command your boat to me again

The plane left you in the border of Burundi.

From the muddy, narrow airstrip to the meeting point it took you four hours in a 1977 Jeep CJ-7. The air-conditioner was broken, forcing you to roll down the windows hoping for some breeze, but no such luck. Your hair was stuck to your nape and your skin collected mosquito bites as you drove through the heart of Africa, trailing the Mwiruzi river, guided only by an old printed map and a vibranium compass.

You reached the village at nightfall. Less than twenty houses formed a semi-circle around a tiny square, a well right in the middle of it. It was similar to hundreds of other villages you passed through on your way, but a rune drawn in white paint on the door of the house closest to the road gave it away as the right one.

You parked the Jeep beneath a Tamboti tree, tucking the keys under the passenger’s side seat cushion. Taking your backpack and a black duffel bag, you exited.

Nakia was waiting for you at the porch of the seventh house, a fussing baby in her arms. She was trying to soothe him with a lullaby sung in xhosa, her melodious voice the only sound apart from the crickets, but the child was insistent. Realizing she wouldn’t acknowledge you until the child was calm, you sat in the rickety wooden porch step, tucking your head between your knees. You hadn’t slept in over two days and finally finding Nakia gave you some unexpected relief that allowed the exhaustion to creep in.

“We’re leaving in the morning” she announced a few minutes later, when the baby surrendered to sleep. “You can rest until then.”

You wouldn’t, but it was nice of her to offer.

“It’s safe here” she added and you just nodded. That wasn’t enough guarantee to let your guard down.

Nakia sighed, only minor frustrated. Your behaviour annoyed her, but she knew she couldn’t demand much from you, even if you did look dead on your feet.

“Come on” she said, mentioning with her head for you to follow her inside. The house consisted of a single room, a kitchen, and two long, pic-nic style tables. It was relatively full, which immediately startled you, but your deft gaze was quick to assess that these people were more suspicious of you than you were of them.

There were no adult men, only women and children. The oldest boy appeared to be around twelve, and was carefully tucked to his mother’s side. There were other babies like the one Nakia extended to a girl sitting by the door, before exclaiming in igbo:

“Ayo! The milk is here!”

Ayo was a middle-aged woman mixing food by the stove. She nodded, but made no move to step away from her careful cooking.

“Are you hungry?”

You were, but it didn’t look like you were welcome. Regardless, Nakia mentioned you forward. Taking the black duffel bag from your hands, your host started taking out the cans of milk formula you bought in Johannesburg.

The request seemed odd to you at first: why did Nakia, the Kenyan heiress turned Wakandan spy, needed dozens of cans of milk formula somewhere in Tanzania? It looked as though this room was the answer.

Ayo wordessly placed a bowl of githeri in front of you. It was delicious and you didn’t hesitate when she offered you seconds. While you ate, Nakia and the cook stacked the cans in neat piles on the cabinet under the sink. You were still eating when they finished.

"We'll take your car to Mukigina" Nakia stated. "Someone will get us there."

"When?"

"In sixteen hours."

"How long from here to Mukigina?"

"A little over seven hours if we go off the road."

You shrugged. You've been going off the road for a while now.

"Can I ask you something?" she leaned closer to you. Nakia could easily be mistaken by one of your sisters, with her flawless features and deadly skills. But the gleam in her eyes, still present after all the terrible things she's seen during her undercover work as a War Dog, set her apart from the daughters of the Red Room. She wasn't broken, battered and bruised on the inside like you were. And all the horrors she'd witnessed weren't caused by her. "How did you know he was in Wakanda?"

You met Nakia at an underground casino in Busan right after the fall of Hydra. She was following a lead on a poacher of and you were following a lead on him. When the poacher turned out to be more vicious than she expected, it was your bullet in his head that solved the problem. You never met again - until two weeks ago, when you saw her standing next to the Wakandan king at the United Nations.

"My sister was with your king in the summer" you explained. "In Germany."

"Oh" her eyebrows rose so high they disappeared under her headscarf. "Romanoff?"

"Yeah."

"That explains how you know him."

You snorted.

"How did you think I knew him?"

"I don't know..." she trailed off. "Honestly, for the past two years I've thought about you constantly. You saved my life and I couldn't even say a proper thank you before you disappeared. I thought maybe you were an Avenger, but you're too squirmish for that. And none of them wear black, do they? They love their bright colors."

You laughed, the first real one in a long time.

Nakia patted you on the shoulder gently.

"I meant what I said earlier. You should get some sleep."

"Sleep isn't really my thing" you muttered.

"Every single girl in this village was rescued from the Boko Haram. We secured this location a couple of months ago because these men, these terrorists… They don't care about the women they steal, but they do care about their children. Especially if they're boys. So don't be ashamed of your nightmares, 'cause we're used to them around here."

You scanned the room. Most of the girls had left, but there were still three huddling by the stove, listening carefully to Ayo's instructions. They didn't look a day older than sixteen. At sixteen, you'd already killed more men than you could count with both hands. You wondered if they'd kill their kidnappers if given the chance.

Nakia's room was in the house next door. Moonlight filtered in through the curtainless window, bathing the small chamber in silver glow. You were asleep before your head hit the pillow.

In less than a day, you'd gone from old cars and dirty roads to spaceships and hover carriers.

Birnin Zana - The Golden City - rose miraculously under the savanna sun. Skyscrapers as high was the eye could see, a protective dome and cutting-edge technology - all of it coexisting in perfect harmony with nature and ancient traditions.

Nakia placed you in a hut in the outskirts of the city - close enough that you could visit Princess Shuri’s laboratory everyday but far enough that the locals wouldn’t be bothered by a foreigner’s presence.

The first week was torture. Blurry recollections of your past haunted your dreams, leaving you gasping for air, staring out the window until the first light appeared behind the trees. From dawn to dusk you'd stay at the lab, guarding his frozen body like a ghost.

It finally got on Shuri’s nerve.

“That’s it. I'm kicking you out."

She sent you to the Dora Milaje. Their leader, Okoye - tall, gorgeous and intimidating - was apparently looking forward to meet you. On a grassy field overlooking the river she handed you a wooden stick.

"Let's set how you fight without a gun" she said with a smirk.

It was disastrous. Okoye and the other warriors were graceful, silent and fast like cheetahs, meanwhile you were a hippo in heels, scrambling with the wooden stick. Madame B's voice taunted you, like the devil on your shoulder, seething everytime they bested you. On the fourth day of training your demons finally caught up to you and you broke down.

Okoye held you, whispering in soft Yoruba that you were safe.

A month later you braved the market. Manioc, okra and tomatoes in a booth, turmeric, cardamom and nutmeg in the other. The smell was intoxicating, swirling in your brain in gormandize like never before. You left chewing on a ripe piece of watermelon, pink juice staining your lips, with a pot of African violets cradled in your arms.

The violets were placed in your kitchen table - two seats, one for you and one for him when he came. Soon afterwards they were joined by a banana bunch, plucked from the tree in your yard.

The discovery of the banana tree made way for lettuce, eggplant and pumpkin. The seeds were gifted to you by Queen Ramonda herself and they took to the soil like sand to sea. When you noticed the first green leaf sprouting from the earth, you wept. Your hands, once made for killing, were now giving life.

The food welcomed the children. They'd play in your yard, sidestepping the flower beds like a dance. When they grew tired, they barged in, all five or six of them demanding lemonade and strawberries and questions.

"What does snow feels like?"

"Do you miss Russia?"

"Is it true the Americans think Africa is a country?"

Like ground ice. No. Some of them do, yes.

It was late December when Shuri gave you the news.

"We're ready to wake him up."

They placed his sleeping body on the bed, saying that he should rise by himself in a few hours. Suddenly, you were fourteen again, waiting behind bulletproof doors in a secret facility in Siberia, waiting to meet him for the first time. Only he wasn't the Asset or Soldat anymore. He had a name, a history, a mind of his own.

You'd killed for him. Tortured innocents. Thwarted governments. Broke a thousand rules just to be closer to your forbidden lover. Schemed and lied looking for his freedom, uselessly. Lost yourself trying to find him.

"Come with me" Natalia pleaded. "That spy I was supposed to kill in Budapest… He spared me. Said he can take us both to America. S.H.I.E.L.D. will offer us protection."

"I can't" you refused. "I can't leave him."

"You'll die before you save him."

Your sister was wrong: you survived. And now, halfway across the world, fate gifted you with another chance.

The children woke him. They scurried out of the house, laughing and chanting. Emhlope ingcuka, they called him. White wolf.

James Buchanan Barnes found you gazing at the horizon beyond the lake. Slowly, testing his legs, he walked over to your side.

"Good morning" you smiled.

"Good morning."

"How are you feeling?" you asked.

"Good."

You turned then, eyes catching his in the warm daybreak. A breeze ruffled his hair and your skirt, a gentle reminder that it was real. You were real.

"James?" you tried, hesitantly.

"Bucky" he declared in triumph.

"Bucky" you liked it. It suited him. "It's nice to meet you, Bucky. I'm sorry it took so long."

His right hand squeezed yours. Callus and scars met callus and scars. Your rough edges molded into his in a perfect fit, in this new land that took you in as its own.

You were home.

My masterlist

Everything taglist: @scentedsongrebel @youclickedthislink @thegetawaywriter

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fluff #bucky barnes #corneliabarnes #my wrting

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elenatria · 4 years

Note

OKAY BUT FOR FUCKS SAKE WE NEED ALL THE DETAILS OF WHERE, WHEN AND HOW YOU MET THE GOD!!!!!!!!!!!

I still haven’t processed everything, not because I’m starstruck that I saw Stellan for 3,5 seconds but because it was a miracle that it even happened. So this is not a “Stellan made me feel like a queen for five minutes” story (there was no time for that), it’s a “setting an impossible goal and achieving it” type of story.

@alyeen1 and I were discussing Stellan attending the Gothenburg festival back in January, and I was lamenting the fact that, despite learning about it three weeks in advance, the beginning of the new year had left me broke. I was totally regretting not having the money for that trip and Alyeen1 and I were comforting each other, making “what if” scenarios for the veeeery distant future, like “hey, don’t you guys have the Berlinale...? What if Stellan attended the festival for one of his new films...? Just an idea.”

Not long after that, Google alerts notified me on “Hope”, Stellan’s new film, having its European premiere there. Talking of getting my wish granted right away, I mean I had talked to talk, now I had to walk the walk, right? I’ve never taken such a big decision on such short notice - super scary, super urgent.

“Soooooo is Stellan coming?” was the obvious question. There was no way for us to know. We started spamming the Berlinale people with emails until someone pointed at the right direction, the film’s PR agent who said that the cast would be attending the premiere. Then @stellan-pip-69 suggested I should ask Andrea Bræin Hovig herself, Stellan’s co-star in “Hope”. Andrea is a total sweetheart, she answered right away and said that they would indeed be there. I mean, I couldn’t possibly be taking two days off work, spending four days and 500 euro on a whim no matter how much I love Berlin.

However, we had no further info on where exactly Stellan would be. What we did know according to the Berlinale site was the time and place of “Hope”’s press conference and premiere. Thank god for Alyeen, the Valoris fandom’s resident Berliner, who had bought tickets for “Hope”s screening at the box office.

One day before the screening we were making plans and thinking of routes and timetables, and also we gained some experience from Hildur Guðnadóttir’s talk (who is an absolute darling as you can tell from her vids and acceptance speeches).

See, after Hildur’s event we waited for her in the cold rain for about an hour and realized it’s not enough to be there early enough or to know which exit the celeb will use, or to run fast enough to get to them first: we also had to deal with autograph hunters who were bigger, stronger than us, outnumbering us, pushing us aside to get dozens of autographs signed by Hildur. They were pushy and persistent and had control over the situation, over what Hildur signed and for whom. Giving me permission to get that selfie with her. It was almost nightmarish.

After that, and as we dragged our feet back to the subway soaking wet, we were dwelling in despair and uncertainty. There was no way we could fight off guys who were doing this for a living. And what if Stellan had HUNDREDS of fans screaming his name? What if Stellan lost his patience with all those autographs he had to sign, like Hildur lost hers?

However, I got a glimpse of hope while waiting for the metro when I thought... “You know what? We’ve come so far. We’re doing everything right. We even rehearsed our moves, elbowing people and stomping on toes and screaming Stellan’s name as loud as we can to get his attention. We’re even willing to camp outside the fucking press conference hotel. We can’t possibly fail.”

But for all our meticulous planning, I was responsible for an almost-failure because of my delay the following morning. Remember what Stellan said? Never be late. Never ever.

So, although my goal was to be at the press conference almost an hour and a half before, we got there only an hour before. That almost cost us everything.

Alyeen knows her way around Berlin and she knew the hotel had various entrances and exits, not just one. Lo and behold, as we approached it from the side, we noticed the road was closed and alongside the pavement there were bars draped with red and yellow Berlinale banners, with small groups of people hanging from them like ripe fruit. As we kept walking, I noticed a spot close to the hotel’s exit where it was getting a bit more crowded, so I peered across the street to see which celeb had attracted their attention and--

-- f-uuuck.

When you see Stellan Skarsgard’s head for the first time in your life hovering over a bunch of fans who are shoving things to sign in his face , there’s only one thing to do.

RUN, MOTHERFUCKER.

That’s all I could whisper to Alyeen1 in utter panic.

“--run. Run! Ruuuuuuuuuuun.”

I’ve never left a friend behind so quickly.

So we ran like hell.

We got behind the crowd and I tried to pull my cellphone out but it was too late, Stellan was already thanking the fans and disappearing into the building. If only I wasn’t late that morning!

Years of stress and running and being late have taught me to take a deep breath, give myself a second chance and try to find peace in the eye of the tornado, so I pulled out of the bag a piece of cardboard Alyeen had given me to draw “Hope”s poster with a sharpie. That would calm me down a bit and the wait wouldn’t be so unbearable. Besides we were front row and there was no one between us and the hotel exit, although we still didn’t know which side of the corridor Stellan would pick first, left or right?..

So here’s my reasoning behind the drawing: the previous evening I had wasted my sleep trying to figure out how Tom Hiddleston’s fans were able to stalk him in filming locations (you see, Tom has a wide network of fans reporting on his every move, Stellan doesn’t). Also I wanted to see how his fans got front row on the red carpet and how they got his attention, how they made him do things like kneel for them. I noticed that in order to do that you had to 1) be a flashy cosplayer who catches the eye 2) nag Tom persistently with a voice that’s higher than your usual tone until Tom indulges you. It has to work, right? Like a baby crying for food.

But I’m no cosplayer, I’m an artist, so the idea was to hang a big-ass drawing of mine in front of the barrier to get the attention.

Turns out... I didn’t even need it.

After waiting for about an hour and a half and worrying that Stellan had already left through another exit, after watching the door open and close half a dozen times and seeing busy celebrities rushing off without signing a single autograph, we were on the brink of despair.

Until the door opened one more time and

Stellan was there.

I don’t remember what we did or what we said, all I remember is that we called his name and dammit, that did get his attention. So we were the first he approached. Fuck.

As soon as he heard us calling him he gave us a broad welcoming smile and was ready for the selfies - but guess what! I had forgotten to turn off the fucking timer, so Stellan moved on before the pic was taken.

God no. Not now.

As he was taking a pic with Alyeen I begged him to come back for another try. He said he was too busy and had other fans waiting for him, there were too many of us, but I begged for like 2-3 seconds (a lesson I learned from that Loki cosplayer) so he came back and indulged me one more time. X__X

After that I was dead inside, not only because I had to beg (I don’t do begging) but also because I had to be a burden to Stellan Skarsgard himself. Like, give me what I want but please kill me afterwards, okay?

So yeah. Dead inside.

This is why I couldn’t relish the triumph right away, and to Alyeen’s enthusiastic “We did it, we DID IT!!!” my response was a numb “... Did we...?” >__>;

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Inevitably, I had my stress attack after I got what I wanted. Also, I was just realizing that my stupid ancient phone couldn’t use the data I paid for before flying to Berlin so I had to desperately look for free wi fi and post the selfie before... someone stole my cellphone or something.

For all the mishaps, we got to the red carpet so early that there were very few people waiting before us. Lucky for us 1) this is Berlin, not L.A., where people flock from all over the U.S. to take selfies with celebs they don’t even care for 2) this is Berlin, in February, so it was freezing cold and not many people were willing to freeze their asses off at the red carpet 3) this is Berlin, and crazy screaming fans are scarce. Unless you’re Johnny Depp but thank god Stellan is not Johnny Depp.

Andrea was the first to walk the red carpet and I was really bewildered by the fact that no one was screaming her name. So I called her. And she came! I thanked her for answering my PM and asked for a selfie (I must admit I take better selfies with women than with men).

She was so sweet with me that I actually gave myself time to think and pull the cardboard sketch out of my bag to show her. I was like, whatever, you have it there, just show her.

She was so excited that she pulled out her phone and took a pic of my sketch. *___* Crazy, right? I went to Berlin to find a king and found a queen instead.

The rest was like playing out a script. A couple of minutes later, Stellan came out of the car and started signing autographs and taking pictures so I had my second chance at a better selfie. Phew.

So nice of him, so so nice of him.

And oh, look at us lol.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Stellan Skarsgård Fan Acc (@stellanskarsgarddd) on Feb 24, 2020 at 11:32am PST

After the red carpet we could finally breathe. To my surprise, we even had access to the photo call itself in the Zoo Palast lobby.

Stellan was being playful with the photographers, knowing it was his job to pose but also being “whatever” about it, having done it a million times. He gave them one last pose going “Hey hey heyyyy!” and disappeared behind the blue panel until we saw all of them again after the end credits.

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The only thing I kinda regret is the fact that Megan was right there, right there, a few meters away from me as her husband was being photographed, but I didn’t dare ask for a selfie because the seats weren’t numbered and we had to rush into the theatre to find a good place. Damn.

Until next time, I guess. Because there will be a next time, dear comrades. And hopefully Alyeen1 and I won’t be alone.

#stellan skarsgard #Andrea Bræin Hovig #hope #berlinale 2020 #berlinale #zoo palast #premiere #photo call #red carpet #fan encounter #berlin #press conference #hildur guðnadóttir #hildur gudnadottir

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moonb-eam · 5 years

Text

skater boy au part ii

back by popular demand!!!!

(some folks did ask for this and i was so happy to write it - i just hope y’all like it!!!)

part i

part ii

He gets endless shit from Yann about it. All through their lunch, over the course of their walk to Lucas’s street, and then over text five hours later.

His phone buzzes as he stands in front of his mirror, pulling at the material of his t-shirt and pretending like the mess of clothes piled onto his bed doesn’t exist.

y4z4s: lol how many times have u changed

y4z4s: lulu don’t worry ur beautiful no matter what <3333

lucallemant: die in a ditch <3333

y4z4s: LOL ur so grumpy u r nervous!!!!!!

lucallemant: and u r annoying

lucallemant: shouldn’t you worry about your own love life

lucallemant: oh that’s right it’s because you don’t have one

y4z4s: uh huh

y4z4s: u can send me pics if u want and i’ll vote on them

y4z4s: no forget it i already kno wear the black jeans they make ur ass look nice

y4z4s: luluuuuuu

y4z4s: lucas

y4z4s: did u hear me the black jeans

y4z4s: show demaury the goods

lucallemant: you’re gross go away

Lucas throws his phone down onto his bed, ignoring another rapid succession of buzzes.

He doesn’t care about dressing up for Eliott. He doesn’t. Eliott knows what Lucas looks like. He’s not going to act any differently if Lucas wears one thing or another. Eliott will probably show up wearing a stupid beanie anyway, and somehow looking completely perfect, because he’s just like that.

Whatever. He’s trying to keep perspective. Eliott is Eliott. And that means that Lucas must be one in a line of hundreds of people Eliott can date.

Perspective. As in trying not to act like the very thought of it, the memory of the way Eliott’s mouth formed the words, I really like you, doesn’t make him want to throw himself into a swimming pool.

But perspective also tells him that, yeah, there might be hundreds of other people, but they’re not the ones going on a date tonight, are they?

So maybe Lucas does put on the black jeans. And maybe he does check himself out before he leaves his bedroom. Maybe he does smile to himself when he sees Eliott’s, downstairs! text, slipping out of the front door before Mika can ask him where he’s going.

He takes a breath before he opens the front door to his building, schooling his face to something neutral.

He’s glad he does it, because he’s not ready for what awaits him when he opens the door.

Eliott, leaning against a lamp post, wearing a button-up shirt with half of its buttons undone, hair wild and eyes low, lit up in orange and gold from the sun just beginning to set.

He looks…cool. Unapproachable. Like the Eliott that Lucas sees at school. Like the sort of person who can waltz through life on the tops of clouds. Like the sort of person Lucas could only ever sneak glances at across rooms.

But he looks up, sees Lucas, and his face splits into a big, toothy smile, and the effect is gone. Lucas doesn’t know what’s worse. The beautiful, unapproachable Eliott, or the Eliott who smiles like a dork.

“What,” Lucas calls out to him, across the stretch of empty sidewalk between them, “the hell are you wearing?”

Eliott glances down at himself, tugs on the fabric of his shirt. “You don’t like it?”

He doesn’t move from the lamp post so Lucas goes to him, short steps crossing that empty stretch of sidewalk until he’s close enough to get a good look at Eliott, to see how his cheeks are a bit pink, how his eyes are grey-green in the light.

Lucas is close enough to touch him, so he does, poking him once in the chest, where the shirt is gaping open. “Showing a lot of cleavage, don’t you think?”

“What can I say, I know what the boys like.” Eliott laughs, and before Lucas can pull his hand away he’s grabbing onto his finger, then folding Lucas’s hand into his own and tugging him forward, closer, closer, until Lucas is pressed right up against him, wrapped in his arms.

It happens so quickly, Lucas not touching Eliott, then touching him only a little bit, then being so surrounded by Eliott that it’s overwhelming. Lucas can feel the hard planes of his chest, can feel how warm his skin is, can smell him, and he smells a bit like cologne, something fresh and masculine, and a bit like cigarettes, and a bit like sweat and Lucas kinda wants to lick his neck and oh what the fuck where did that thought come from—

Lucas is not prepared for this.

He can feel himself locking up, arms straight down at his sides, neck stiff, eyes open wide. It’s just so much, is the thing. So much when Lucas has spent the better part of a year convincing himself that he doesn’t like Eliott, that Eliott is nothing more than a well-worn fantasy to pick up during boring classes and long bus rides.

But Eliott is here, now, holding him, nuzzling into Lucas’s hair and sighing as though they’ve done this before, as though they’ve been doing this, touching like this, when all of their interactions before were handshakes bound in barbed wire.

“You smell nice,” Eliott tells him, voice close to Lucas’s ear, breath warm on his neck.

Lucas shivers. He’s thrown off by the hug, by the contact and affection, and he’s getting a little lost in it, thinking about falling into Eliott without abandon, here we go—

He just starts to lift his hands, fingers reaching for Eliott’s back, when Eliott steps away, hands sliding away from Lucas and Lucas’s own arms are back at his sides and they’re staring at each other in the golden light, Lucas’s entire body a live wire of tension.

“So, are you hungry?” Eliott asks, bouncing on the spot. “There’s this cool place I’ve been to with the guys before; they do like, street food? It’s basically a fancy food truck but it’s so good, I swear.”

“Uh, yeah.” Lucas glances up and down the street, eyes dancing everywhere except right at Eliott’s face. “I could eat.”

“Cool.” Eliott steps away and bends towards the lamp post, and picking up his skateboard, tucking it under his arm.

“Oh no,” Lucas says, voice coming back to him, because really, “you did not bring that.”

“What? Celeste?” Eliott holds his board out and of fucking course he has a name for his board because he’s not cool, he’s a fucking loser. “She comes everywhere with me.”

“Oh, Celeste.” Lucas lets his eyes go wide. “I mean, if you’d rather be alone with her, I can go back inside.”

“At least she doesn’t make fun of me. She supports me. Literally and figuratively.”

“Does she sleep in your bed at night, too?”

“No.” Eliott’s eyes cut sharply to Lucas, mouth quirked in a teasing half-smile. “But you can, if you want.”

Lucas nearly chokes on his own tongue, only just managing to mask it with a cough into his fist.

Eliott looks far too pleased with himself.

“In your fucking dreams, Demaury,” Lucas says, and he doesn’t think he sounds that convincing so he turns away from Eliott, starts walking left, towards downtown. “Don’t we have somewhere to be?”

“Yeah,” Eliott yells after him, and Lucas can hear his board rolling across the pavement. “Except you’re going the wrong way.”

It is with great dignity that Lucas turns around and strides past where Eliott is waiting and flips him off with both hands.

Eliott takes him towards the area of town where the skatepark is, but they drift into a neighbourhood Lucas isn’t familiar with, one that has hip-looking bars mixed in with old apartment buildings and small parks.

It’s busy on the street, as everywhere in Paris is on a summer night, patios heaving and laughter carrying across a gentle breeze.

Everywhere Lucas looks, there are couples: walking hand-in-hand, sitting next to each other at tiny round tables, kissing on street corners.

He and Eliott pass one couple doing just that, Eliott holding his board under his arm again, telling Lucas how he and Idriss and Sofiane come here all the time, and Lucas makes a face at them, partially because he’s disgusted, and partially because he is, the tiniest bit, envious. There’s about a foot of space between him and Eliott. There has been ever since they started walking, and while the conversation is flowing a lot better since Lucas was able to get a hold of his few remaining brain cells, they probably look like they’re just friends.

It’s Lucas’s fault maybe, because he’s in his default snarking-Eliott mode, but it does make him wonder.

“Lucas?”

Eliott has a hand resting at the small of Lucas’s back, and he’s gently guiding him across the street, to where Lucas can see a truck parked at the side of an empty parking lot, with a bright neon sign on the front of it. There’s a line of people waiting for food and at least half a dozen picnic tables set up in the parking lot, surrounded by strings of fairy lights. Lucas can hear music coming faintly from the inside of the truck. Something he can’t place.

He has to admit, this is not bad.

Eliott’s hand has dropped from his back but he’s grinning when he looks down at Lucas. “Now I know you have high standards, Lallemant—”

Lucas snorts.

“—but the food here is amazing. Trust me. It’s Moroccan food that even Idriss approves of, and he says everything is shit except what his mom makes.”

“If I had high standards,” Lucas says cheerily, patting Eliott on the chest, “then I wouldn’t be on a date with you.”

Eliott cackles at that, tipping his head back, and Lucas tucks his pleased smile away into his own shoulder.

“You’re so mean,” Eliott says, but he’s smiling, smiling at Lucas like Lucas is the best thing he’s ever seen. It wreaks havoc on Lucas’s heart.

So Lucas coughs, breaks his gaze away from Eliott’s, and goes to the truck to find a menu.

Eliott follows him, stopping behind Lucas in line and bending down to murmur in his ear, “Do you want to share a few things?”

Lucas is vibrating at a low frequency at this point, but he says yes, actually, he would because there are about three things on the menu he wants to try, so that’s what they do.

They find two spots at the end of a picnic bench, where the only other occupants are two girls sharing a big plate of food, laughing when one of them manages to get a glob of hummus on her chin, the other one wiping it off with a napkin.

Eliott asks if they’re saving the table, and the girls say, no, that’s fine, all yours, and Eliott and Lucas sit across from each other at the opposite end.

“So, do you like it?” Eliott asks, face eager.

Lucas nods. “Yeah,” he says, glancing around the parking lot, then to the truck, where he can see a young woman and a man cooking, laughing, and the other young woman who took their orders hollering something back to them. “It’s cool.”

Eliott grins. “Cool.”

“Seems like the type of place you would come to,” Lucas continues, because he can’t just leave things. “Being such a hipster and all.”

Eliott genuinely looks offended. “I am not a hipster.”

“Oh no? Mr. Skateboard Artist? Your music taste would beg to differ.”

“When,” Eliott’s eyes are narrowed, “have you ever heard my music taste?”

Lucas pauses, takes a slow slip of the beer he ordered. “I’ve seen some of your instagram stories.” He shrugs, takes another sip of beer. “That’s not a surprise, you can see who watches them.”

“I never really look at that.”

Lucas sighs. “Of course you don’t.”

Eliott leans onto his forearms, his body stretching across the table. “Do you ever listen to the songs? After you see them on my story?”

Yes. “No.”

Eliott’s eyes are lethal. “So if I said that there’s one song that I posted because it reminds me of you, you would have no idea which one?”

Lucas swallows. Tries to control his exhale. “Let me guess. It’s that song called ‘Mean’, the one Daphy always listens to.”

Eliott shakes his head. He leans back on the bench, pulling a cigarette out from behind his ear and lighting it, smoke curling around his face. “No,” is all he says. “It’s not that.”

Their food arrives, four steaming plates dropped at their table that have Lucas’s mouth watering.

They both dig in, hands getting messy, satisfied groans coming from deep in their throats.

“Alright,” Lucas concedes after he bites into a spicy dish that sends him straight to the heavens. “This food is incredible. Not a bad spot, Demaury.”

“So glad it meets your approval, Lucas.”

The way he says his name, the way his voice sounds as it holds the word Lucas, makes Lucas shift awkwardly on the bench. Maybe it’s the food, or the beer, or the atmosphere of the night around them, but Lucas feels good. So good his few brain cells have decided to take off. That’s the only explanation for him saying, “I’m happy you asked me.”

Eliott’s in the middle of drinking from his own beer bottle, and a bit dribbles out onto his chin. “What?” Eliott asks, laughing, wiping his chin. “Do you mean to say that you, Lucas Lallemant, are happy to be out with me on a date?”

“Nope. Didn’t say that.” Lucas can feel himself smiling, the same way he did back in the skatepark, unable to control it. “You’re hearing things.”

“Sure, sure.” They’re smiling at each other over the table, over the nearly-empty plates and the pile of napkins. “I’m happy you said yes.” Eliott says, and it’s Lucas’s turn to almost choke on his beer. “I wanted to ask you out for so long, you know. But you…you make me nervous.”

He says it so easily, like it costs nothing to be honest, like he’s not aware that the two girls have quieted their conversation and are clearly eavesdropping.

“I make you nervous?” Lucas sputters. “Are you not Eliott Demaury, resident golden boy of the school? What have you done with him?”

“I don’t think of myself as…” Eliott trails off and waves a hand at Lucas. “I’m no golden boy, or anything. I’m not. And you make me nervous because I really like you. Because I think you’re really cool.”

Listen.

Lucas has a science concentration. He genuinely, without irony, loves space, and plays video games all the time, and spends far too many nights on Wikipedia conspiracy theory pages, and honestly, is pretty shit at football. Lucas has never been called cool in his entire life.

“You’re so weird,” he murmurs, eyes wide and disbelieving on Eliott. “You really are.” He lowers his beer back down to the table, eyes following the motion, still down when he says, so quietly he hopes Eliott will miss it, “I like you so much.”

Of course Eliott hears it. And of course the girls at the other end of the table hear it too, both letting out awwww’s that make Lucas’s cheeks flush.

“Reminds me of us,” one girl says to the other, who shushes her with a giggle. They both stand from the table, gather their plates, and leave, their held hands swinging between them, one of them glancing back at Lucas to wink before they disappear from the parking lot.

Lucas hesitantly glances back up at Eliott, who’s leaning on his forearms again, his smile small, and his eyes burning. They’re still the colour of ice but they’re so warm, in the way they travel across Lucas’s face, down his neck, and back up again. They’re not cooling on Lucas’s skin anymore, they’re setting him alight from the inside out.

“Hey,” Eliott says, voice low, smooth. “Let’s get out of here.”

Lucas licks his lips. “Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere.”

Yeah, that’s… “Okay.”

They collect their plates and bottles and drop them in the bins back at the truck. They turn right when they leave, with no particular destination in mind, both of them wanting to be moving, looking to expel the wild, anticipatory energy manifesting between them. Eliott’s arm brushes against Lucas’s and it feels like lightning dancing across his skin.

Eliott turns them again, onto a much quieter street, with a park on one side and a row of tall, narrow houses on the other. Lucas can hear music coming from a few open windows, faint laughter spilling out into the night, but he can’t see anyone, other than a man walking his dog further down the road.

They cut into an empty basketball court that opens up onto a small, flat field. The sun is far down on the horizon now, the sky painted with pastel swaths of pink, purple, yellow and blue. Eliott’s on his board, skating lazy circles around where Lucas walks, laughing when Lucas rolls his eyes after he does a kick flip.

“You look stupid,” Lucas says, and Eliott rolls to a stop in front of him, cutting off his path.

“You think so?” Eliott asks. Teasing, always teasing.

“Yeah, I do.”

Eliott steps off his board. Kicks it up. “You know, you shit talk skateboarding so much for someone who’s never tried it.”

Lucas makes a face. “How do you know I’ve never tried it?”

“Please.” Eliott says it like its obvious, and maybe it is, but Lucas has his reasons. Yann has bene trying to get him into skateboarding for years, but Lucas could never be bothered to try it. And yeah, maybe, maybe he doesn’t want to fall. He hates the idea of it.

“Well, whatever.” Lucas says testily, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t need to try it to know it looks stupid.”

“Mhm.” Eliott narrows his eyes at Lucas. “You’re scared.”

“I am not.”

“Yes you are.”

“I am not fucking scared.”

“Alright.” Eliott shrugs, smiling. “If you say so.” His voice is a sing-song on the last sentence, the tone so clearly conveying i don’t believe you that it makes Lucas bristle. It’s the type of tone that always gets his back up. Makes him do stupid things.

“Give me that thing,” he grumbles, snatching the board from Eliott and dropping it to the ground. He hesitates for the briefest moment before he steps onto it.

Immediately the board shifts, Lucas’s feet going one way, and his body threatening to go another and oh god, Lucas is going to fall he’s going to break something he’s going to die why does he always do this dumb shit—

“Whoa!” Eliott reaches out and grabs onto Lucas’s flailing hands, holding them tightly in his own. He manages to steady Lucas enough that he doesn’t fall, just rolls a bit to the right. “Christ, I didn’t think you’d actually go for it.”

Lucas can feel his cheeks heating. Eliott’s hands are soft and strong against his own, long fingers curled between Lucas’s. “Yeah, well. I…can’t really say no to a challenge.”

“I know,” Eliott says, his features softening into something that could possibly be called fond. “Why do you think I kept giving you so much shit right back? I thought it was the only way to get you to talk to me.”

Lucas’s hands squeeze Eliott’s, on reflex, and Eliott squeezes back. “I don’t know if that was a good plan, because I thought you hated me.”

“I dunno. I kinda disagree, because look where we are now.”

Belatedly, Lucas realizes that they’re moving, Eliott taking small, slow steps and gently pulling Lucas along by the hands, the board rolling along under Lucas’s feet.

“Just try to move your body with the board,” Eliott instructs. “Keep your core tight.”

Right.

The feeling of the ground moving underneath him is, admittedly, nerve-wracking, but Eliott is holding his hands so tightly, tugging him along so slowly. It allows Lucas to pay attention to other things, like how good the faint wind feels on his face, like how good Eliott’s palms feels against his own.

He tries to remember what they were talking about, distracted by the play of the dusk light over Eliott’s features, hallowing the shadows under his cheekbones, under his eyes, making him look otherworldly. Lucas searches his brain for a word he heard Manon use a while ago.

Ethereal.

“And where are we now?” He asks eventually, stumbling only a bit when Eliott turns him in a wide circle, going to the other end of the court.

“We’re on a date.” Eliott says, once again like it’s obvious. “We told each other that we like each other. We’re probably going to kiss tonight.”

Lucas’s mouth drops open. His throat feels dry. “You think we’re going to kiss?”

“Of course.” Eliott looks up from where he’s been watching Lucas’s feet on the board, meeting his eyes. “Don’t you?”

Lucas swallows once. “I doubt it.”

“Really.” Eliott has slowed Lucas down until he’s barely moving, the board moving from its own momentum. He’s still holding Lucas’s hands. “You don’t want to kiss me?”

“Not particularly.” Lucas wrinkles his nose. “You’re kinda gross. But you’re asking all these questions like you want to kiss me.”

“Hm, no, actually. I don’t want to kiss you anymore.”

“Oh no?” A shocked laugh bubbles out of Lucas’s throat, flies free before he can catch it.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Now who’s asking questions?”

They’ve stopped moving, completely. Lucas is standing on the board, and he’s closer to Eliott’s height this way, only has to tilt his chin up a bit to meet his gaze.

“If you don’t want to kiss me, that’s fine. I can find someone else who will.”

Eliott laughs now, squeezing Lucas’s hands again where they hang between them. “How the fuck did you manage to turn that around on me?”

Lucas sighs. “You’re not that smart. It’s not difficult.”

Eliott’s face screws up into something complicated, like he wants to smile but he’s trying not to, and oh god, is Lucas ever familiar with that expression.

“You’re so mean to me,” Eliott complains. He releases his hands from Lucas’s, and Lucas mourns the loss of his touch for only a second before those hands are at his waist, Eliott stepping so close to him that Lucas could count his eyelashes. “But I know your secret,” Eliott whispers into the empty air between them.

“Yeah?” Lucas’s voice comes out all breath. He swallows and tries again. “What’s that?”

“You like me,” Eliott says, wrapping his arms fully around Lucas’s waist. “You like me and you want to kiss me.”

“That’s not a secret. I told you that I like you.” Lucas argues, his own arms coming up to wrap around Eliott’s neck, his hands almost shaking when they pass over the hard muscle of Eliott’s shoulders. “You know I do.”

“I do.” Eliott agrees, and he’s leaning closer, any distance left getting small, smaller, smaller. “I just wanted to hear you say it again.”

“Eliott,” Lucas says firmly, because he has never been a patient person and even he has his limits for how much teasing he can take. “I really like you. And if you don’t kiss me right now then I’m never going on a date with you again.”

Eliott says nothing to that. Just leans the last few inches forward and presses their lips together.

Eliott’s lips are soft and warm, but the kiss is artless, a quick press of lips that Eliott immediately pulls away from. Lucas whines at the loss, wanting more, needing more than that.

“This is okay, right? You want this?”

“Yes, Eliott, for fucks’s sake, yes.” Lucas tugs him in by his neck. “Fucking hell,” he mutters, the last word getting caught by Eliott’s lips, their lips crushing together now, Eliott’s arms tight around Lucas’s waist.

Lucas moans into it, arching his neck up to get closer, needing Eliott to be closer.

He opens his mouth the slightest bit on the next press, and Eliott takes the invitation, coaxing Lucas’s mouth open even wider and kissing him, deep and wet.

The thing is, Lucas has actually thought about kissing Eliott before. He’s wondered what it would be like, if Eliott would have too much spit or if it would be too dry or if Eliott was the type of boy who would immediately get handsy.

In none of his fantasies did he ever think it would be this good, these slow, sensual presses of their mouths, the warm slickness of Eliott’s tongue against his own, the feeling of Eliott’s soft hair between Lucas’s fingers, the smell of Eliott surrounding him, the comforting weight of Eliott’s arms around him.

“Lucas,” Eliott gasps between one kiss and the next and he sounds ruined, and Lucas thinks he might be right there with him, because kissing Eliott is unlike anything he’s ever experienced before, and Eliott is unlike anyone he’s ever known.

Lucas thinks back to the hug earlier that night, thinks about letting himself fall into Eliott but maybe they’re falling together, comets headed skywards, shooting stars set on a collision course.

So he gasps, “Eliott,” right back and lets himself feel every bit of it.

Eliott does something with his tongue that makes Lucas’s whole body feel like a lightning rod and he moans again, tugging on Eliott’s hair.

And apparently that does something to Eliott, because he’s trying to come even closer, and he’s tilting Lucas a bit and Lucas feels his feet move but they’re not moving, and fuck, he forgot he was still on the board—

Eliott tightens his arms even more and Lucas is moving, his feet leaving the skateboard as it rolls away, Eliott swinging him around in a steady circle. Lucas pulls his head back, separating their mouths to gasp again, his feet swaying in the air.

“Eliott,” he yells, laughing, and Eliott is laughing too, setting Lucas gently onto the ground, bending to follow him down, keeping their lips level. “You really think you’re smooth, huh,” Lucas says but it’s lost again into Eliott’s mouth, a barb that has no sting, that dissolves to stardust between one press of lips and another.

Eliott’s mouth is scorching hot against Lucas’s own, so sweet Lucas might actually faint, and he’s just thinking about pushing Eliott onto the grass outside of the court and climbing on top of him, getting a better angle, when Eliott abruptly pulls back.

Lucas can’t believe the sound that comes out of his own mouth. He knows he’s blushing, and he tries to reel Eliott back in to forget about it, but Eliott’s face looks determined.

“I want to ask you something.”

Lucas literally cannot get a single thought formed at that moment other than lips and tongue and Eliott. “Uh,” he says, lips still pursed slightly.

Eliott clears his throat. “Lucas, will you be my boyfriend?”

It takes a second, it really does, because Eliott’s lips look cherry red in the fading light and Lucas wants to be kissed again more than he wants anything else in the world, but the words land somewhere in Lucas’s brain, somewhere his brain cells have decided to return to so they can point at it and say, oh shit!

Boyfriend?

Lucas blinks.

Boyfriend.

“Eliott, what the fuck.”

#fic tag #elu fic #the skater boy au asdfjk #really really hope y'all like it!!#don't want anyone to be disappointed #😩

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anxresi · 5 years

Text

I’ve decide to compile each of Chloe’s Instagram photos for posterity...

Complete with my own ‘hilarious’ captions. This post will be updated as more are released. Enjoy. ^__^

Chloe decided to do something nice for a change and allow the peasants a window into her glorious life online. “You’re welcome!!”

Chloe never was one for picking up subtle social cues. Such as: Adrien straining every sinew of his body to escape her kung-fu like grip. “Adrikins has the same color hair as me! IT’S DESTINY!!”

Chloe realized that a hard day being waited on hand-and-foot by all and sundry sure takes it out of you. Poor dear. “Sabrina is SO selfish. She promised she’d be back with my smoothie at least thirty seconds ago!”

Chloe decided her demanding public needed to see a more ‘sensitive’ side of her, so like her father kissing babies on the campaign trail she decided to try something cute with Sabrina. “As long as she thoroughly washes and rinses my shades before returning them!”

Chloe pranced around her room with all the grace and poise of a baby elephant, Nevertheless, she was sure she’d make Prima ballerina easily. After all, all her wage-earning servants had told her so. “Ow! Maybe it would be better if I scattered cushions around everywhere next time...”

Chloe got ready to attend a Ladybug lookalike competition, absolutely positive that her custom-made suit made from only the finest materials would give her a lock on first place. Unfortunately, as an already known practicing superhero, she was instantly disqualified. “My Daddy will hear of this! I’ll sue you... and you... and you in the pram sucking on the lollipop!”

Chloe posed for pics with her favorite alternative rocker enthusically, not quite aware just yet of the horrors unfolding just behind her. Jagged Stone? More like Jagged Teeth. “What do you mean, are those my shoes over ther.... AAAARRGGHHH!!”

Chole saw that Sabrina had done such a great job in cleaning her shades, she decided to give her one of her old hats... which had only been partially chewed by moths. “You’re welcome!”

Chloe found out later that this is what JS was looking despondently at two pics ago, although to be honest even if Fang hadn’t been chowing down on her favorite flats, he probably would’ve still had the same expression. “If you FED that slimy thing once in a while, this never would’ve happened!”

Chloe was most annoyed at having her Miraculous taken away due to ‘identity issues’, so she decided to paint her nails Ladybug colors in a desperate attempt to get the spotted one to reverse her decision by flattery alone. It didn’t work. “She was so unreasonable!”

Chloe received a generous settlement from JS for loss of footwear and mental anguish, and so spent it on a new pair of shoes along with various other essentials. Like designer dresses, expensive jewellery, striped tees... “Sabrina, what are you doing just standing there?! Go and carry something!”

Chloe felt better having restocked her closet with clothes she’d never wear, and so posted a picture of defiance that even a major crisis like this wouldn’t knock her down for long. “All it takes is a limitless credit card, and all my problems are solved!”

Chloe very kindly volunteered to attend a dinner meeting with her father as his plus-one, as long as she chose the entire menu and got to change the conversation when it got too boring. A small price to pay for the pleasure of her company. “Seeing as mother’s never around, I might as well fill in. The sacrifices I make!”

Chloe decided, after seeing how disastrously this innocuous photo had turned out, that it was time for completely new flooring. She could’ve just changed her capris... but if you have the money, why not use it? “WHERE ARE MY LEGS?! It looks like I’m floating like Pollen...!”

Chloe took a few thousand pics of herself as Queen Bee, during her brief but legendary stint in the role. She wishes she could’ve taken more. “I had the style, the beauty, the look... oh, and I might’ve saved a few lives. Not that that’s anything like as important.”

Chloe put a brave face on things, but she was still perturbed that her idol Ladybug refused to let her be Queen Bee again. Unused to not getting her own way, her new tactic was to guilt trip the hero by painting her nails yellow. Was it successful? What do you think? “GGGRRRRR!”

Chloe loved her mom and dad, really she did. She wanted something, they always gave it to her. How could she possibly not appreciate that? “They taught me the most important thing in life is to believe in yourself. And to think of yourself, naturally.”

Chloe was most upset that the selfie she’d spent over an hour preparing for was photobombed by Sabrina, but she soon calmed down. After her bestie had promised to do all her college homework for free, of course. “And do it in cursive, so everybody will know how smart I am.”

Chloe was most amused when she saw Marinette tumble down the stairs in class, and made time to laugh and point at the clumsy baker girl on her way in. An action that would have no negative consequences whatsoever. “Tee-hee, hilarious. Now, back to planning on how I can get Ladybug to return my Miraculous...”

Chloe was not impressed with the servant who’d stuck her pink socks in the wash with Mr Cuddly, thus altering the hue of the much-loved stuffed animal permanently. “Where is she now? To be found in an unemployment queue near you. Let this be a lesson to the rest of you oafs!”

Chloe wrote next to this picture ‘PARIS’S FAVORITE LANDMARK’. And no, she wasn’t referring to the Eiffel Tower. “If it wasn’t for Ladybug’s ability to restore everything after an akuma, this stupid thing would’ve been destroyed a dozen times over!”

Chloe might have found her unique rendition of the ‘Prince Ali’ song from Aladdin hilarious in front of her special guest, but he certainly didn’t. Maybe, lost in translation? “ ‘Brush up your Sunday Salaam’... oh, come on! It’s a classic!”

Chloe felt sad no-one had complimented her for five whole minutes... so she phoned Jean-Something straight away to lavish her with deserved praised. The fact he was thousands of miles away in Barbados taking his one vacation of the year mattered not a jot. “You’ll love me! YOU’RE ALL GONNA LOVE ME!!”

#chloe bourgeois #Queen Bee #adrien agreste #chat noir #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #ladybug #miraculous ladybug

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searchingwardrobes · 5 years

Text

Just a Kiss

Happy birthday, @kday426 ! Thank you for being a lovely person who so faithfully reblogs and comments on my stories. I wanted to give you something truly fluffy and happy for your birthday, and I also couldn’t help giving it a Southern flair because of the Lady Antebellum song it’s based on. This is one of those times I wish I was an artist so I could make a manip, painting, or drawing of this beautiful kiss I envisioned in my head. Unfortunately, this picset is the best I could do. Thanks to @kmomof4 for helping me choose the best suspenders pic 🙂

Summary: Emma turned then and fled from the tree and the fireflies and the moonlight. Fled from her best friend who could apparently kiss the living hell out of her.

Rating: T, but only for brief mentions of stereotypical college behavior

Trigger warnings: Tiana is in this for people who aren’t fond of season 7 ?

Words: About 4,000

Tagging: @snowbellewells @winterbaby89 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @teamhook @bethacaciakay @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs @jennjenn615 @let-it-raines @optomisticgirl

Ao3

Just a kiss on your lips in the moonlight. Just a touch of the fire burning so bright. And I don’t want to mess this thing up. I don’t want to push too far. Just a shot in the dark that you just might be the one I’ve been waiting for my whole life.

Emma never knew that the country could be so loud. She was far away from the wedding band and the partying guests, yet the air held a cacophony of sounds. She’d always been a city girl, so she couldn’t really identify what they all were. Crickets, she knew for sure. The croaking of frogs maybe? That shrill, unceasing screech, however? That one she couldn’t place, but it was sure annoying as hell. At least far away from the fairy lights of the wedding tent the mosquitos had stopped plaguing her. An outdoor wedding in New Orleans? What was Tiana thinking?

Despite the bugs, and the strange sounds, and the shadows cast over the bayou by the full moon, she still preferred it here than back under the wedding tent. Out here Mary Margaret wasn’t trying to play matchmaker. Out here there was no DJ barking out ridiculous things like “lady’s choice” or “all the single ladies out on the floor” while he pumped out Beyoncé. Emma reached down and slid off her strappy heels, then sagged against the bark of the magnolia tree she had sought solace beneath.

“Hiding, Swan?”

She jumped as she spun around, pressing her hand to her heart. “Shit, Killian, you scared me to death!”

He just chuckled as he sauntered closer, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his dress pants. “Sorry, love. I saw you head this way and was worried you would get eaten by a crocodile down here.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Louisiana has alligators, not crocodiles.”

He shrugged. “Fairly certain they would both eat you.”

“What a lovely thought.”

Killian leaned against the tree casually. They had always felt at ease around each other ever since they met her freshman year of college. His best friend David had dragged him over to be his wingman while he hit on her roommate Mary Margaret. The rest, as they say, is history. Mary Margaret and David married back in the fall, and Emma and Killian became best friends. They hung out with the same group all through college, leaning on each other through finals, drinking binges, and nasty breakups. Especially breakups. Neal Cassidy had done a number on her, and Killian’s literal affair with a much older Milah Gold hadn’t ended much better. Killian had offered her a strong shoulder to cry on, and Emma had in turn been there for him when he drowned his misery in rum.

They understood one another.

Emma lifted her long blonde locks off her sticky neck. “How is it this hot at the end of April?”

“You think you’re melting? I’m British. I’m wondering if this is what hell feels like. And you lucked out with the much cooler wardrobe.” Killian gestured at her spaghetti strap, knee length sundress.

“Hideous color, though,” Emma said, wrinkling her nose. “Blondes shouldn’t wear yellow, or at least I think that’s a fashion rule. I look like a lemon meringue pie.”

“Nonsense, Swan, it brings out the gold in your hair.”

She snorted, used by now to Killian’s over the top compliments. She added another eye roll for good measure.

“You know,” Killian teased, “most men would be offended by your constant eye rolling. I, on the other hand, take great pride in how often you grace me with them. And as for your aversion to wearing yellow, need I point out that I am wearing the same shade? Only in the form of this hideous bow tie?”

He grimaced as he tugged at the offensive accessory, which was indeed lemon yellow. Emma had to admit it wasn’t his best color, but he looked handsome nevertheless. She was used to his chest hair breathing, so the bow tie was out of character, but he wore the suspenders well. Extremely well, actually. She averted her eyes when she realized she was staring.

“So, um, are we going to have these things constantly now?”

“You mean weddings?” He started undoing the bow tie, and that was a good look, too.

“Yeah, and I think I’m going to fit into that category of always a bridesmaid.”

“I think the old wives’ tale requires you to be a bridesmaid three times before you’re doomed to singlehood, so I think you’re safe.” Now he was the one rolling his eyes. “As if you’re the husband-hunting type. I’ve watched you Emma; you run in the opposite direction as soon as the bride aims her bouquet.”

“And Mary Margaret was definitely aiming,” Emma pointed out, “but a month from now, I’ll be Elsa’s bridesmaid, so there you go. Doomed to singlehood as you put it.”

“I’m in that wedding too, second time as best man, third time in the wedding party, so am I also doomed?”

“I’m pretty sure it only applies to women.”

“How sexist.”

Now that his tie was hanging loose, he undid several of the top buttons of his dress shirt. He rolled up both sleeves, revealing his tattoos: one of a compass pointing north that he already had when they met, and the other of an anchor. The second one he had regretted along with his hangover the next morning, mumbling about looking like a bloody pirate cliché. Emma had informed him that it could have been worse – if she hadn’t been there to stop him, Milah’s name would have been encircling it. Again, it was all a very good look on him, standing there in the light of the moon, the top of his shirt open, his arms exposed, and those surprisingly sexy suspenders. Her best friend was hot, it wasn’t as if this were a new revelation, but she had to admit that her body was responding to it more often lately.

It suddenly seemed as if the stars above had lowered and settled beneath the boughs of the magnolia tree that ensconced them. Dozens of fireflies blinked around them, perhaps hundreds. Emma was rendered speechless for a moment as they all flitted and blinked around them.

“Amazing,” Killian whispered, as if speaking would shatter the magic around them, “I’ve never seen them before.”

His words pulled her gaze away from the entrancing spots of light and to his face instead. The city girl thing meant fireflies had been rare in her life, too, and growing up in foster care meant she’d never had that idyllic summer evening of chasing them with a jar in her hand. Yet she had seen them before. She studied Killian’s expression, the way his eyes lit up in the moonlight watching the fascinating insects. He reached out a hand, and one landed there, crawling around and blinking in his palm before flying away again.

It felt as if time had slowed, the branches of the tree cocooning them in some sort of enchantment. Under that spell of dazzling light, fragrant magnolia blossoms, and singing crickets, Emma reached out and grabbed hold of Killian’s suspenders. Yet instead of yanking him to her, she stepped closer to him instead. She searched his blue eyes intently, her knuckles turning white as she held fast to those damn suspenders. His eyes darkened and his expression softened as he gently brushed her cheek with the tips of his fingers, then slid his hand into her hair. He slowly lowered his face to hers, brushing their noses, and God! was he torturing her on purpose? Evidently so, because he first dragged his lips across her cheek, then her chin before claiming her lips.

Even then, he didn’t speed up. He moved his lips tenderly across hers, then tilted her head to deepen the kiss. He swiped his tongue across her lips, asking for more, and she gladly gave it. She finally let go of the suspenders, taking her time dragging her palms over his chest and shoulders, then wrapping her arms around his neck. Killian still had one of his hands in her hair, but his other arm encircled her, pulling him flush against her. Emma was embarrassed when a moan escaped her throat. God, could this man kiss. She had always wondered . . .

Emma gasped then, but not from desire. Her brain had finally reared up to ask what the hell she was doing. She pushed away from him, her face burning.

“Emma -”

“- don’t,” she silenced him, unable to look him in the eye, “don’t say a thing, okay? It was just a kiss. Just . . . don’t follow me. Wait five minutes.”

She turned then and fled from the tree and the fireflies and the moonlight. Fled from her best friend who could apparently kiss the living hell out of her. Her best friend who had just muttered, “as you wish,” maybe on purpose. He knew that was her favorite movie, so what would possess him to say that? Unless . . .

No, no, no, no. Killian was her best friend. They had an understanding, a great platonic relationship. What the hell had she been thinking kissing him like that? Or had he kissed her first? She groaned as she slipped into the back of the crowd in the wedding tent, pressing her sweaty palms to her flushed cheeks. It didn’t matter. She had been the one to grab him. Stupid sexy suspenders!

*****************************************************

Three weeks, two days, five hours, and twenty-seven minutes. That was how long it had been since Emma had seen her best friend. Three weeks, two days, five hours, and twenty-seven minutes since their kiss. It had been the longest length of time she had gone without seeing or talking to him since they had met. Even when they were dating Neal and Milah, they had at least talked every single day. It had been a sore point with her and Neal. He’d been extremely jealous of Killian.

The thing was, avoiding Killian also meant avoiding everyone else. Especially Mary Margaret because Killian and David were always hanging out, and Elsa because her fiancé was Liam Jones. Avoiding Elsa was an especially thorny issue since Emma was her maid of honor, but it wasn’t like her friend had a lack of attendants. Her own sister was her matron of honor, for God’s sake, surely she had everything covered. What the hell Emma would do when the wedding day actually arrived, she wasn’t sure. It would be a little hard for the maid of honor to avoid the best man.

During week one, her friends hadn’t suspected anything. Emma sometimes got prickly and withdrew. When week two rolled around, they started texting and calling in concern. It didn’t take much for Mary Margaret and Elsa to discover she had also withdrawn from Killian, and both also well knew how odd that was. So Emma wasn’t really surprised when she received the ultimatum from Elsa at the three week, two day, five hour, twenty-seven minute mark: Meet me for coffee, or I’ll turn into a Bridezilla.

Now, Elsa was much too kind to follow through on such a threat, so that wasn’t why Emma relented. It just made her realize how worried her friend was, and that was the last thing she wanted for Elsa a week before her wedding. So she dragged herself off the couch and away from Netflix to meet her friend.

What she wasn’t expecting was to find not just Elsa but also Mary Margaret, Anna, and Tiana sitting at a table in the corner of their favorite coffee shop. Elsa’s entire wedding party. Tiana especially shocked Emma, since she and Naveen were still in the blissful haze of being newlyweds. They’d only returned from their honeymoon five days ago.

Emma arched a brow suspiciously at them before sitting down. “Is this an intervention or something?”

Tiana arched her brow right back and slid a chair out with her foot. “In a way. Sit.”

People typically said nothing but “yes, ma’am” to Tiana, even if they weren’t from the South. Emma mumbled it herself with a scowl as she plopped down into the offered chair. The diamonds glistening on the fingers of all four women seemed to mock her.

“Emma,” Elsa began, “we’re all worried about you. Liam and David are worried about Killian.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “What?”

“It’s true,” Mary Margaret added, “is it true you’ve been avoiding him for over three weeks now?”

Emma lifted a hand to stop their words. “If this is about the wedding, you don’t have to worry. I’ll be there, and I’ll also be on my best behavior.”

“You think that’s all that this is about?” Anna exclaimed, sounding deeply offended. “I’m the sister of the bride, so we’ve got it all covered. We’re worried about you.”

“And Killian,” Elsa added.

Emma bit the inside of her cheek at the sight of Elsa’s furrowed brow. Was Liam really that worried about his brother? But it had just been one kiss . . .

“What happened at my wedding?” Tiana asked.

“What are you talking about?” Emma tried to sound nonchalant, but she couldn’t stop the traitorous blush that rose to her cheeks.

Tian a leaned across the table. “Rumor has it you and Killian both disappeared for a while. Then you both showed up later looking flushed.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “We didn’t leave together or come back together.” Truth. “And it was just a warm night.” Partial truth.

Her four friends exchanged glances that clearly said they weren’t buying it. Emma blinked. “Wait - did Killian . . . tell you anything?”

Mary Margaret looked smug. “I thought there was nothing to tell.”

“He’s been brooding ever since the wedding,” Elsa explained, “but he refuses to tell Liam why. All he will say is that you’re upset with him and that you won’t return his texts or calls.”

Emma let out a long sigh. She got a short reprieve when a waitress came over and took their orders, but when she walked away, her friends’ pointed stares and heavy silence let her know they weren’t going to let it go.

“I kissed him,” she finally hissed under her breath.

“Who?” Mary Margaret asked.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Killian! Who do you think?”

“Wait!” Anna said eagerly. “Did you kiss him, or did he kiss you?”

Emma rubbed her temple. “Both, sort of? I don’t know, it’s all sort of hazy.”

“Were you drunk?”

“God, Tiana, no!”

She shrugged. “Just making sure.”

Their orders came, and in between sips of hot chocolate, Emma poured it all out: the teasing and flirting under the tree, the moonlight, the fireflies, and Killian looking so unfairly attractive in suspenders. She told them about fisting her hands around those suspenders and the slow-motion way Killian had bent towards her. She ended the story with pink cheeks, and it wasn’t from the cocoa.

“Wow,” Anna said into the silence.

Emma groaned and covered her face with both hands. “I can’t believe I just word vomited all that.”

Mary Margaret reached out with a gentle hand to her elbow. “Emma, none of us are surprised.”

She looked up in confusion. “You’re not?”

Tiana shrugged. “Frankly, I’m surprised this is the first time.” She took a sip of her latte, wagging an eyebrow at Emma over the top of her mug. “I even thought you two were maybe . . . friends with benefits?”

Emma’s mouth dropped open, and her face went from pink to red as her friends all laughed.

“Oh no,” Elsa said, “our Emma here has been far too oblivious for that.”

“Oblivious?”

Mary Margaret rolled her eyes. “Come on, Emma, seriously? The yearning looks? The doey eyes?”

Emma crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t yearn.”

“Maybe,” Tiana quipped as if she didn’t believe her for one second, “but he does.”

Elsa squirmed. “Killian has never come out and said as much to Liam, but . . . Liam knows anyway. He can tell that his brother is in love with you.”

“I-in love with me?”

“It isn’t just obvious to his brother, Emma,” Anna told her, “it’s been obvious to all of us. For a long time.”

Emma looked in shock around the table at each of her friends. They were all gently nodding in agreement. Mary Margaret took her hand in both of hers.

“And honey, you’re in love with him too.”

“Yeah,” Anna laughed as she took a sip of her cappuccino, “that’s been obvious too.”

********************************************************

Maybe Emma should have contacted Killian after speaking with her friends, knowing that he was hurt by the wall she had thrown up between them, but she had far too much to process. Her friends said it was obvious, not just that Killian loved her, but that they loved each other. Could she really miss something like that completely? Misread her own feelings?

So the wedding rehearsal ended up being the first time she had seen Killian since their kiss. Elsa, unlike Tiana, was not fond of the heat, so her late May wedding was being held in the ballroom of an old manor by the sea. The French doors would be thrown wide to let in the ocean breezes, but they would all be safely inside for the entire ceremony and reception. The ice sculptures and ice cream sundae bar also necessitated the air conditioning being cranked up. Instead of melting in the Louisiana heat, they might all freeze to death at Elsa’s wedding.

The actual ceremony took place in the foyer of the manor, with the wedding party lined up on the wide staircase. The rehearsal was so hectic, with the wedding coordinator lining everyone up and making sure the music cues were correct, that Emma and Killian only exchanged quick pleasantries until his turn came to escort her back down the aisle.

“I’m not mad at you,” she whispered to him as they made their way down the snow white runner.

“Then why wouldn’t you return my messages?”

They were in the hallway now, crammed in with the rest of the bridesmaids and groomsmen. It felt like everyone had grown quiet when they entered.

“I just needed time to think about things,” she whispered in an even softer voice. She finally, for the first time that night, locked her gaze on his. His eyes looked sad.

“I wish I could apologize for kissing you,” he whispered back, “but I’m not sorry at all.”

Emma bit back a gasp. “You’re not?”

He shook his head slowly, his gaze never leaving hers. A tiny smile flirted with the corner of his mouth. “No. Are you?”

She bit her lower lip before letting a small grin fill her own face. “No. I’m not sorry either.”

His eyes lit up then, his smile broad and dimpling his cheeks. Emma lifted her hand quickly, resting it on his chest. HIs heart was thumping hard beneath her palm.

“But that doesn’t mean that I’m not . . . confused.” She frowned, wishing she could explain herself better.

“Okay,” Killian said with a sigh. He glanced around the room where everyone was pretending not to be eavesdroppping. He lowered his face close to her ear. “We’ll talk after the rehearsal dinner.”

When Emma slipped out before dinner with a lame excuse to Elsa about not feeling well, she knew she was a complete and utter coward.

***************************************************

Avoiding Killian at the wedding was surprisingly easy. Prior to the ceremony, all the bridesmaids were on the opposite side of the manor in the bridal suite getting their hair and makeup done. Elsa wanted Liam’s first glimpse of her to be when she walked down the aisle, so the guys and girls also took pictures separately. Talking was impossible during the ceremony, and even when the entire wedding party took joint pictures, it was too chaotic for a private conversation.

Then they were all ushered into the ballroom amidst cheers from the guests. Liam and Elsa had their first dance, then the entire wedding party were seated at the head table. Emma had been expecting to be seated next to Killian, but the wedding coordinator had seated them in the traditional way with all of them sitting in a row facing the guests, men to the groom’s left, women to the bride’s right. As soon as Emma ate, she quickly slipped away under the guise of heading to the ladies’ room. She found a dark alcove, and seated herself there to wait out the rest of the celebrations. She knew she couldn’t avoid Killian forever, but today was just too much. He wasn’t wearing suspenders this time, but he still looked far too handsome in a suit and an ice blue bow tie that brought out the color of his eyes. Every time he glanced her way, her heart raced. The entire scenario was too similar to their first kiss. In short, she didn’t trust herself.

She sipped on a flute of champagne as the DJ cranked out one party tune after another. She had a perfect view of the cake, so she didn’t miss Liam dabbing Elsa’s nose with icing and kissing it off. When the crowd thinned, she even snuck over to get a slice. She heard hoots and cheers and some sort of stripper music, so she figured Liam was removing Elsa’s garter now. Such a ridiculous, sexist custom, if you asked her.

“And now!” the DJ cried. “The bride will toss her bouquet!”

Sure enough, he punctuated the announcement with Beyoncé's “All the Single Ladies.” Emma rolled her eyes.

“Okay,” the DJ called out again, lowering the volume of the music almost completely, “we need the maid of honor on the dance floor. The bride says she won’t throw her bouquet without her. Maid of honor? Emma Swan!”

Emma tried to shrink farther into her dark alcove, but the entire ballroom had started chanting her name. It was only a matter of time before Anna discovered her and practically dragged her to the front of the room. Emma’s face burned as everyone laughed and cheered. Elsa winked at her. Emma pointed a finger threateningly, but her friend just laughed.

Emma wasn’t fully aware of the set up until every other woman on the dance floor suddenly disappeared as the bouquet sailed through the air. Mary Margaret had aimed, but had failed to take into account Emma’s complete disinterest in catching. Elsa had upped the game. Emma either had to catch the damn thing or hurt the bride’s feelings. She just managed to grab it with the tips of her fingers, the petals skimming the floor. Everyone laughed uproariously as Emma lifted the bouquet half-heartedly. She did, however, accept her friend’s hug.

“That was low,” she whispered in Elsa’s ear.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” Elsa whispered back.

Now what did she mean by that?

“Okay, maid of honor,” the DJ announced, “tradition says the woman who catches the bouquet must dance with the man who caught the garter.”

Emma groaned. Of course it did. The DJ began to play Lady Antebellum’s “Just a Kiss.” The title of the song made dread fill her gut. Surely Liam and Elsa hadn’t . . .

Oh , but they had. She turned to see Killian standing there, Elsa’s garter dangling from his fingertips and an apologetic grin on his face.

“Sorry?” The word was cancelled out by the smirk and the cocky tilt of his head.

Emma scowled. “Isn’t that kind of gross? That was on your sister-in-law's thigh.”

Killian wrinkled his nose. “Seriously, Swan? You had to go there?”

She couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of her. This was the easy banter they had always shared. He crammed the garter in his coat pocket and reached to take her hand in his. He rested the other at her waist. As they swayed together, she was surprised to find that this was easy too.

“I’ve missed you,” he told her.

“I’ve missed you, too.”

They swayed silently, drawing closer and closer until his arms circled her waist and hers circled his neck. She fiddled with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Are you really . . . I mean, do you really . . . “ she let out a frustrated breath of air.

“Yes, and yes,” he told her with a sparkle in his eyes.

She rolled hers. “How can you answer when you don’t even know the question?”

“If I waited for you to spit it out, we’d be here all night.”

Emma smacked him in the chest as he laughed. When he drew her in his arms again, she rested her head against his shoulder.

“The question, I believe, is: Are you really in love with me? Or alternately: Do you really love me? Therefore, the answer to both is yes.” He spoke the words against her hair, and when he finished, he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“I don’t want to mess this up,” she told him honestly, pulling back to look him in the eye.

He cupped her face in his hands. “Oh Emma, that’s impossible. Being with you can only make my life infinitely better.”

This time when they kissed, it was met with cheers and shouts of “it’s about damn time!” Not that either of them noticed. For them, they may as well have been back underneath that moonlit magnolia tree, hidden away with enchanted fireflies.

#cs ff #cs modern au #friends to lovers #fandom birthday playlist #kday426 #for her birthday #just a kiss

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demaury · 5 years

Photo

Some kind of mistake (cha. 4)

Ever since Eliott first came across the new resident of the apartment 320, he made peace with the fact that Lucas ‘Big Blue Eyes’ Lallemant would, one way or another, turn his life upside down. Thing is, he hadn’t expected that Lucas’ wife and Lucas’ daughter would play a part in it. Because, you know, he didn’t know they existed until it was too late. (ao3 link)

Eliott stared at the screen of his phone, like he had been doing far too many times ever since he fell into that damn rabbit hole that was Instagram.

Love of my life.

It was written, in all caps, and it made Eliott hate himself a little bit more each time. The picture in itself? He could live with it, even knowing she was the girl he had spotted with Lucas last Saturday. The caption? That could mean anything and everything all at once. But there were dozens of them. Videos of Lucas being a dork with her. Close-ups of their hands tangled — or their legs. Birthday declarations. Anniversary posts. And then-

Then came the little one.

Eliott had no idea what her name was. Lucas didn’t have much about her on his Instagram, but her mom’s account had a whole bunch of pics of him feeding her and holding her. For some reason, though, he kept coming back to this post in particular. The most recent one Lucas had posted, the day before the evening he had come to his place. It was the one that made Eliott resent this situation the most — all the while knowing he had no right whatsoever to be upset. If he had been building castles in the sky, it was his problem, not Lucas’. Not his girlfriend’, or wife’, or whatever. And certainly not his kid’s.

Still.

He should have listened to Idriss. He should have been sneaky and found that fucking Instagram account earlier. Everything would have been much simpler and he wouldn’t have been left feeling like shit for something that wasn’t his to feel.

He hadn’t seen Lucas, not even caught a glimpse of him ever since the moment he spotted the three outside the building, and frankly, it was best. There was nothing better than not stumbling every five minutes on your cute but very much taken new neighbor when you were trying to get over your stupid crush on him. Because, yeah, that was a stupid crush right there, no matter if he had started acknowledging it only when it had turned out to be impossible.

Maybe a part of him was relieved. Tiny. Secluded in a corner of his brain.

A huge part wanted the ground to swallow him every time he came across Manon though — because, eh, he knew her name now, not like he could still pretend he didn’t —, which happened on a daily basis.

He had just lit up a cigarette one morning, at the foot of the building, and was waiting for a client to pick up the phone when she had greeted him with a polite nod. He had replied with the same gesture, and just like that they had started existing in the same world. Once his reflex pushed him to hold her the door as she kept struggling with the stroller. Another time he had just hopped in the elevator, only to find an abandoned pacifier, attached to a string of wooden beads, lying on the floor. For some reason he crouched down and picked it up, but just before the doors closed themselves, Manon appeared outside and once again his reflex pushed him to block them.

“Oh, you found it, thank you so much,” she sighed, relieved. “I thought she had thrown it in the street.”

Eliott’s eyes traveled from the pacifier to her blue eyes, once, twice, then he nodded and handed it back to her. “You’re welcome.”

She smiled and waved him goodbye, before retreating towards her flat.

Ava Rose, he thought as he unlocked his front door, once he’d reached his floor. That was the name spelled on the wooden beads. Lucas. Manon. Ava.

He shook his head to himself while stepping into the quiet apartment. He had never minded living alone because he had literally fought for it — against his parents, against his friends, against himself. But right now he didn’t remember the appeal. He sighed, then stepped back, closed the door and locked it before shoving his keys into his pocket.

He needed to get laid.

The blinds of his bedroom suddenly snapped open with a hissing sound, and Eliott groaned, face burying into his pillow as the morning light flooded in. He didn’t know which day it was, but he wasn’t particularly keen on finding out. Neither about that, nor about the person who just decided that it was a good idea to make his eyeballs melt with his skull.

“Well, it’s been a while since I last saw you do that,” a voice muttered somewhere around the bed.

It took Eliott an extra-second to realize it was Sofiane, and that if Sofiane was here, it meant he had used the spare key. It pissed him off. They had a deal. Sofiane had the spare, but he had no right to make use of it. If anything it was just for one of the many occasions Eliott lost his own.

“Do what?”, Eliott gritted into his pillow, not caring if it was rude or if the words didn’t come out just right.

There was a sigh. “Sleeping around,” Sofiane answered bluntly. “Distancing yourself. Not answering my texts.” He paused, and Eliott could make up the crease of concern between his brows without having to look, then his friend added: “Eli, are you okay?”

Eliott huffed into his pillow, then rolled onto his back, squeezing his eyes shut. “I am,” he said, perhaps a bit more harshly. He opened his eyes carefully, then sat up, holding the sheets reasonably high on his waist. Sofiane was patiently waiting at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, like the good dad trying not to throw a tantrum. It made Eliott sigh, and he ran a hand through his wild hair. “Look, I know what you think, and you’re wrong, okay? I’m not- I’m not manic. It’s got nothing to do with me being bipolar. I’m just having a shitty time, and I’d rather spend it alone.”

Sofiane cocked an eyebrow. “Sorry for not having thought about that when I stumbled on the girl you just slept with crawling out of your apartment,” he deadpanned.

Eliott wanted to glare, but all he managed to do was to stare blankly at his friend. He didn’t have enough energy to be angry. Everything had been burned out this past week, when he had finally decided to make use of all the entries he had in a bunch of clubs around Paris, but never used because Sofiane and Idriss were a thousand times too boring to tag along nowadays. Of course, Daphné hadn’t been pleased when he had to call in sick, but he guessed it was mostly because the girl he was with had been cackling loudly at whatever she was looking on her Instagram feed.

“Just go away,” he mumbled, flopping back down onto the mattress.

“Eliott, I’m serious. What happened? Last week you were telling us about your new crush and now you’re burying yourself under the covers.” To be fair, Eliott did answer the question. Just with his mouth pressed onto his pillow, which, technically, may not have been the best idea to be understood. “I didn’t quite catch that,” Sofiane pointed out.

“He’s got a girlfriend,” Eliott snapped. “Or a wife even, for all I know. And a fucking kid.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah. Ah,” he repeated sarcastically, then he shrugged to himself. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m fine alone.”

I’m used to crushing on straight guys, he added inwardly. At least, his last functioning brain-cell was working in his favor to keep the filter up between his brain and his mouth. He didn’t want to have to explain Sofiane that he used to have a crush on him, back in high school — back when he was so desperate to find some balance, some control over his life, that even the tiniest, simplest gesture was enough for him to fall in love and mistake his gratefulness with stronger feelings. It went back to ten years and now Sofiane was just his close friend and nothing more. There was literally no point in bringing it up now, except if he really wanted to make a mess.

“Are you sure it’s true, though?” Eliott peeked out from his pillow, looking at Sofiane with a quizzical expression. “Are you sure it’s even his kid? I mean, plenty of people have roommates nowadays. You did live with Idriss at some point and you two were never a couple.”

“Look, Sof,” Eliott retorted, trying really hard not to hurt his friend’s feelings, “I’m not stupid enough to make assumptions based on nothing. His girlfriend’s all over his Instagram account with fucking love declarations. I hear the baby cry, I see her walking around with her stroller. I don’t know what kind of messed up world you live in but in mine these are proofs enough that I need to fucking back off and stop having shitty ideas.”

Sofiane heaved a sigh. “Alright. Alright, yeah, maybe. But just, don’t ignore me. Okay? I don’t mean to intrude or to upset you, I’d be just as worried if it were Idriss,” he concluded before leaving the room.

Eliott’s digital pen slipped onto the graphic tablet like any other goddamn pencil in the world onto a paper sheet when the wailings picked up again. He slapped his hands onto his temples with a furious hiss, squeezing his eyes shut in frustration as if he was six all over again and trying not to hear his parents fighting.

He was going to murder someone.

Or worse, he was going to lose his sanity.

The baby had been crying for three hours straight, then had relapsed for fifteen minutes, just enough for Eliott to think it was finally all good — and then had started all over again. He just couldn’t take it anymore. He’d have already gone out, if it wasn’t one in the fucking morning and if he had a few hours to lose in a club, where he’d hopefully get to enjoy the background noise. But since he had done practically nothing for the last few days, taking entirely too much time off to go out and about and party more nights than his body could possibly handle, what was bound to happen was finally just about to happen: he was in the deepest shit, with a shit-ton of shitty deadlines coming his way, and not enough hours to possibly get through all of it.

Below his flat, the baby was still crying; sometimes her wailings seemed to fade out, but he just assumed that her mom (or her dad) was simply walking around the apartment trying to ease her. Well, it didn’t work. It took ten more minutes for Eliott to snap, scrap his chair on the floor as he stood up from behind his desk, and strode out of his flat without even caring about walking in socks or locking the door behind him. He knew what he was about to do was petty, and mean, but he didn’t care. He simply needed to let out some of the pettiness he had bottled up since his last encounter with Lucas, two days ago.

Eliott was walking out the building, when he had stumbled on him, baby in one arm as he was fighting to fold up the stroller with his free hand. As soon as Lucas had caught sight of him, after simply uttering a ‘hi’ in response to Eliott’s polite greeting, he had immediately said, blue eyes sharp and tongue even sharper: “Now that I finally get to see you, could you, please tell your girl to stop screaming so loud? The building’s old and we got a baby, you know.”

And truth be told, Eliott had been so stunned, and so vexed, that all he had found to answer was “I will tell them.”

That was a far cry from all the sweet banter from last Friday.

If Lucas had been literally any other guy, any other guy with whom he had shared no more than a single evening, and no physical contact whatsoever, and that the guy had treated him the way he was doing right now, Eliott would have never even so much as thought about him ever again — except perhaps during one of those evenings where people casually recounted their worst moments in life around a glass of wine.

But unfortunately for him, Lucas was not any other guy, he was the guy who lived on the floor below. He had to hear about him, and so it was only fair that Lucas did too, Eliott thought bitterly as he knocked onto the front door of the apartment number 320. It didn’t take long for it to open, but still long enough for him to work himself up some more.

“Hey,” Lucas mumbled as he stood in the doorway, the baby’s wailings echoing louder from inside the flat. He was wearing pajama pants and a wrinkled, plain white tee-shirt, his hair sticking in literally every possible direction.

It didn’t go unnoticed that Lucas’ blue eyes were bloodshot and painfully red, but Eliott was too petty to let himself distracted by something like that. “Can you do something about it or I can definitely make peace with not getting one minute to work?” he snapped.

Lucas opened his mouth to answer but the baby’s cries suddenly intensified, making his shoulders slump a little more. “I’m sorry- I’m really sorry, she’s teething and Manon’s out of town and-”

He trailed off and Eliott found himself standing there like an asshole. Of fucking course. It was his luck, to decide to be petty just when no one could do a single fucking thing about the situation that bugged him. He should have thought about the teething thing, but it wasn’t like he was used to having babies around. Lucas watched behind his shoulder, looking more than a little defeated, and Eliott would have found it funny if he didn’t actually think Lucas was on the verge of crying too.

“I, uh, yeah. I-, you know what, nevermind,” he muttered, taking a step back from the threshold.

Lucas spun around when a particularly loud and slightly worrying screech echoed from wherever the baby was inside, and Eliott didn’t know why, he didn’t, because he wasn’t compulsively polite, but he followed Lucas regardless.

It was the stupidest thing he had ever done, but he was doing it anyway. It was like seeing a car-crash on slow-motion, he just couldn’t stop his feet from padding inside, and his hand from closing the front door. He was on auto-pilot, and he was already regretting it as he followed Lucas inside the living-room, where the baby was fussing in her baby-seat. Her face was red and crumpled from crying, and he could make up the streak of long-dried tears down her cheeks.

“C’mon Ava, please,” Lucas insisted quietly, rubbing her tummy as she kept kicking up in the air with her feet. His voice wavered and Eliott felt truly sorry for him, to the point of momentarily forgetting about being pissed.

Not just momentarily, in fact, he realized as a good minute stretched out with him standing there and Lucas looking completely helpless next to Ava. He reached out to touch her forehead, letting his fingers caress her red, chubby cheeks.

“They don’t give stuff to make it easier for them while they’re teething?” Eliott enquired, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweats, and it seemed to startle Lucas.

He stared at him blankly, as if he had forgotten he was even there. “Yeah,” he said after a moment, “but it’s like, effective to a certain degree. She’s got tons of teething rings but they always stop helping after fifteen minutes. I don’t know why, they aren’t even warm when it just stops working!” Lucas’ frustration was so painfully apparent that Eliott winced to himself.

“Hey, calm down, it’s gonna be fine. She’ll just tire eventually,” he offered.

“I thought so too,” Lucas sighed, turning back to Ava after a moment, “six hours ago. She’s already had Ibuprofen, she doesn’t do well with those stupid chamomile drinks and she refuses to eat anything. She’s gonna be dehydrated before she even stops crying.” He sighed some more, and shook his head to himself as he leaned forward to pick Ava up from her baby-seat. “Guess we will just have to take another ring. Again.”

If Eliott saw that Lucas was shaking a little bit when he stood up he didn’t say a word. He caught the purple teething ring that Ava was waving angrily in the air before it fell to the ground, and made a point of not making a stupid face as saliva suddenly coated his fingers. Instead, he behaved like a grown man and followed Lucas in the kitchen to rinse his hands and the ring. In the meantime, Lucas had opened the freezer and was struggling to pull out another plastic toy without making the whole content of the freezer fall down on the ground or bump Ava’s head into anything in the process. Eliott took the freezing toy from Lucas’ hand and put the warm one for him to stock in the freezer, before the door closed and he handed the fake set of keys to Ava. The object seemed to stir some interest after a few moments of waving, and she eventually grabbed it and brought it to her mouth (not before she hit Lucas’ chest with it a handful of times though).

Lucas turned bleary eyes to Eliott, handing his hand out. “Can you give me-”

For some reason, Eliott immediately grabbed the kitchen towel left onto the kitchen elements, probably after recent use. Lucas mumbled a small ‘thanks’ and wiped Ava’s chin clean. “Let’s hope this one will last longer than fifteen minutes,” he whispered tiredly as he retreated towards the living-room, rocking her a little, Eliott following close behind.

Ava was gurgling pensively, the plastic keys faintly echoing as Lucas sat down with her. He glanced up with drawn-out eyes. “I’m so sorry, really,” he winced, “you should go back upstairs and enjoy some quietness as long as it lasts.”

Eliott waved, huffing a little. “It’s fine, it’s fine.” He fidgeted a little then perched himself onto the armrest of the couch. “I mean, it’s true I work better at night but, like-”

“Yeah. You had your hands full. I know.”

Something in Lucas’ tone made him glance down at him, a little surprised, but then Lucas was already busying himself, trying to find a comfortable position on the couch without leading Ava to start fussing again. The baby was growing quieter, too busy she was munching on the keys, and Eliott hadn’t realized yet how much his head was starting to hurt. He couldn’t even imagine what Lucas was going through. Maybe that’s why he had snapped at him the other day — it would definitely explain the change of mood between them.

Yeah.

That was probably that.

Eliott shrugged. “It’s not like I’ll be able to do much if in fifteen minutes she starts crying again.”

Lucas looked down, embarrassed, his eyes looking hazy enough to make it believable if he started to cry right there and then. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, it’s fine. I was just joking, Lucas,” Eliott quickly said, and he nudged him slightly in the shoulder, pulling a face. “Timing might be a bit lame though, sorry.”

Why are you doing this? Why?

It was stupid. But it felt natural. How could you just fight comfort?

Lucas groaned, sighing a little as he rested his head on the edge of the couch. “I’m too tired to smile, you’ll have to wait for another day.”

Eliott snorted quietly, then shifted to sit down onto the couch. “I’ll just wait to see if we get past fifteen minutes,” he explained as Lucas drew his eyes on him with a quizzical expression.

“Twelve,” he replied, somber. “Last time it was twelve.”

Ava paused, her mouth wide open as she stopped chewing on the keys, and she seemed to take a particular interest into Eliott, her blue eyes staring at him as if she was wondering all of a sudden what he was doing here. Yeah, I’m wondering too, he said to himself.

“Well, we will wait and see,” he said out loud. “You know, one minute after the other.” He glanced at Ava, who had started busying herself with the plastic toys. “It seems to work, though.”

“Don’t get too cocky just yet,” Lucas huffed, adjusting his position on the couch with a ‘humph’. “I love Manon and I love Ava, but if I get the chance of escaping this hell for a week I’d happily take it, just saying. I just need some silence.”

At this point, the words sank in without particularly cause Eliott to suffer. It wasn’t that deep. It was easier than this time in high school Sofiane had started dating a girl and was talking about her all the time. It stung a little bit, but it was how it was. Nothing more to say.

Really.

“Talk to me, I can’t fall asleep with her,” Lucas mumbled, reclining Ava into his arms.

Eliott quirked a brow. “Why don’t you put her back to sleep?”

Lucas took a deep breath. “I’m afraid that if I stand up she’ll start stressing out or something. And right now my head hurts so much I can’t take that risk. I need my twelve minutes of calm and silence.”

“We’re already two minutes in, sorry.” Eliott laughed quietly when Lucas turned desperate eyes on him. “Okay. So. Hum. What do you want to talk about then?”

“I don’t know. Literally anything. What are you working on?” he asked without tearing his eyes away from Ava.

Eliott didn’t know much about babies (nothing, really), but it almost looked like Ava’s eyelids were going heavy. “Designing flyers and promos cards for a club. It’s kind of what I do most. Marketing and stuff. And I get free drinks and free tickets sometimes.”

“Sounds cool. Cooler than my job.”

“What kind of accountant are you?” Eliott asked, cocking his head a little.

“I, uh, I work for an agency that sets up seminars for companies and stuff. Kind of an event planning thing, but the opposite of the party type,” Lucas explained, lowering his voice. “Manon works there as well.”

“Oh,” Eliott replied, then he adjusted his voice to match the level of Lucas’. “Did you, uh, did you guys meet there or something?”

“Nah, we met in high school. We weren’t talking much back then, we kind of were onto different sides of a large circle of friends, and then we lost track of each other.” Lucas looked briefly at him then sank a little further into the couch. “We only reconnected, or rather, well, you know, connected, because I was delivering lots of stuff to the agency when she was an intern. It kinda fell into place like that. We practically met on a daily basis because of that and then we hung out together outside of work and stuff. After a while- well, after a while she started suggesting I should pick up my studies, just to get a better job. So I did eventually, I went for a quick training course and she got me a job in the same agency.” He smiled, then added: “She’s the best.”

Eliott tried to swallow down the lump forming in his throat.

You don’t get to be upset.

You do not.

“I dropped out of art design school,” he said, almost whispering. It was the first thing that came to his mind as he was desperately trying to find another (safer) topic. Lucas glanced at him, looking interested, and Eliott rubbed the back of his neck, propping his right leg to rest his ankle on his left knee. “I didn’t want to waste so much of my time learning things I didn’t care about or that I knew already. I was bored so I took a few commissions outside from school. It was easy and fun and I got paid for this so after a while I just figured I could do well enough without a degree. Kind of useless when you’re doing in the self-employment department.”

Lucas had a ‘makes sense’ raise of eyebrows. In his arms, Ava was still clutching at the set of plastic keys but her eyes were getting heavier, drool dribbling down her chin. Eliott leaned forward and grabbed an abandoned towel on the coffee table, then handed it to Lucas who gave him a tired smile in return.

“Have you been living here for long?”, he asked, wiping her face clean.

“Almost five years. At first it was a bit expansive, but I didn’t want to back down and go back to living with my friend Idriss. It was fun and all but once you’ve tasted being on your own…”

“I’ve never lived alone. Funny right?” Lucas twisted his mouth in a crooked smile. “Before, I was living with my three friends, those you met the day I moved in. It was fine and cheap, but after some time the flat got crowded. Basile and Yann were dating and their girlfriends were constantly home and it got a bit too much for me at times. So I moved in with Manon for a while and now we’ve moved here because the other place was way too expansive.” He remained silent for a moment, then shook his head a little. “I’ll end up in my forties, letting everything and everyone down and just go live in Bali, I’m telling ya. Running on some beach every morning and stuff.”

“Sounds nice,” Eliott chuckled. “I’m more of a snow person though.”

Lucas cocked an eyebrow. “I never said you’d be there,” he deadpanned.

“Ow, that hurts.”

They shared one more glance and laughed quietly.

“I suppose I could make an effort and make a trip or two in Alaska every once in a while,” Lucas whispered casually after a minute or two. “You know, just to get away from all that vitamin D.”

Eliott smirked. “Yeah. Sure. The vitamin D.”

There was a silence as they stared at each other. It was a shame to see such beautiful eyes ruined by sleepless nights, Eliott couldn’t prevent himself from thinking. Now he was starting to understand what his mom meant when he wasn’t sleeping enough during his teenage years, and she always ended up complaining that it transformed his whole face. He had always brushed it away because that came from his mom, but maybe he was starting to get the point.

“Has it been twelve minutes already?”, Lucas asked.

“Nope. Why, I thought you needed your twelve minutes of silence?” Eliott teased softly, shifting a little on the couch to rest his elbow onto the backrest. “Don’t tell me you want them over already.”

“No, I just want to get a sign that she finally got tired enough to sleep for good.”

“What if she wakes up after thirteen minutes?”, Eliott didn’t resist to ask.

Lucas glared at him, but it was more endearing than strictly menacing, with the bags under his eyes and his messy hair. “I’ll hit you thirteen times if what you brought up brings bad luck.”

Eliott snorted, resting his head on his folded arm. “Alright then. Let’s wait and see.”

#skam france #elu fic #mine #*skm #eliott demaury #lucas lallemant #*

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annakie · 5 years

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Notes on a blog cleanup.

I’ve been going back through my earliest blog posts (I joined this hellhole in May, 2011) to try and find a particular post I made, and decided to do some cleaning up of the early-blog cringe. Then I got a little addicted to it.

So I started keeping this running log of notes as I went through. Enjoy.

Basically the first few months my blog was more or less just a Doctor Who blog. Just going back reliving those early Doctor Who memories, back when Season 7 was airing... and tumblr was at the height of the Doctor Who craze. I’m only deleting the cringe-est of cringe posts from back then.

Fuck, this is making me want to rewatch Doctor Who. I haven’t rewatched Doctor Who in like a half dozen years. Probably more. I mean I still keep up with the show when it airs but except for a few select episodes (mostly The Husbands of River Song, I’ve seen that like five times, it’s so good) I almost never actually go back and rewatch episodes. This is a bad idea.

Also remember when we all felt the need to comment completely useless things on people’s posts who clearly didn’t care or add to the conversation. Did a lot of that. Deleting a lot of this unless it’s something I actually want to remember for some reason.

Any proof also that I may have liked Bedknob Cumberbund. Only a few Sherlock posts but yikes? Was that me? Luckily no SuperWhoLock so far, but not surprising because I watched Supernatural enough to catch up to it and watch like season 8 live, and I think I tapped out mid-season 9 and was never THAT into it.

Adam Baldwin Appreciation Post... DELETED. Yikes.

Apparently I once tagged something “otp3”? *facepalm*

Found a post I reblogged where someone was DEMANDING CREDIT if someone reposted any pics from a set of pics of an actor because they spent a lot of time working very hard.... removing the watermarks from the pictures. Imagine demanding credit for stealing the credit from someone else’s work. Nowadays I’d just block the OP if I saw that on my dash. 2011 tumblr was a lawless time.

Getting in a few months to where I THOUGHT I had started tagging my posts, but instead I was reblogging with other people’s tags when that was able to be automatic. I keep finding posts with like super thirsty tags that I am 99% sure were not mine, and deleting the tags or usually just the entire post. Also lots of times I just kept tags that were like “mine” for things I clearly did not make myself. Been kinda lazy about fixing this.

A LOT of “this post has been hidden for possible adult content” posts, and there’s no way to either see the post or delete the post. Neat. Also I’m sure almost none of them were anything objectional because even back then I didn’t relog NSFW stuff ever?

Oh no I’d reblogged a “Wake me up when September ends “joke” post. Sorry Greenday. Deleted.

Fuck, I’m rewatching Doctor Who. How did this happen? I’m on Aliens of London already? This is so bad. Why am I doing this? Oh, nostalgia.

God I used to be so salty about Doctor Who / people who were assholes about Martha Jones. I’d actually forgotten just how bad I was about that. On the other hand, holy shit people were assholes about Martha Jones and I’d forgotten how shitty people were in her tag. Even back then I’d block those OPs but still. Yikes on both sides.

I’ve deleted over 300 posts now and I just made it to October 1st, 2011.

This is giving me the opportunity to go back and tag a bunch of posts as personal posts though so that I have a better record of what I was doing back then, which is nice. I didn’t really start tagging personal posts as much until probably 2012. Finding some pretty good memories that I’m glad I am tagging for keeps.

Hahaha remember when Netflix was going to rebrand the dvd side of their business as Qwickster? My blog does.

Tags on a HIMYM post about shipping Ted and Robin more than Barney and Robin? Definitely not mine. Ick. Also remember having good feelings about HIMYM before the finale gut-punched your love of the show out of you?

October 15, 2011 I reblogged a post about Elizabeth Warren. I was clearly ahead of my time.

There’s so many posts now that are just broken because the posts are deleted or because things were reblogged as links. Remember when that was a thing?

Anyway I’m on Boomtown now and uh, Micky Smith is still great? I can’t believe people hated him after the first episode where he was (understandably, humanly) cowardly.

Early December 2011 and I’m getting real tired of my own fandom wank. I cared so much about a fictional character. Kind of not regretting deleting more of this but hey I wrote a lot of essays, why not keep that proof?

Also I’ve started requeueing some good posts from way back when now, so expect a blast from the past on your dash starting a couple of weeks from now. It’s a bit hard finding stuff that’d be considered truly good even today since gif size was so much smaller back then.

Seeing so many old familiar names of mutuals on my dash is nice though. I miss some of these people... and a few are still around. Hi there, friends I made through Doctor Who in 2011!

January 11th 2012 - I was watching Supernatural and damnit I reblogged something SuperWhoLock. I hate you, January 2012 Me. (OK actually I don’t because January 2012 me made a courageous decision that changed my life for the better in so many ways, but I’m still judging her choices in tumblr posts.) At least the blog overall is starting to go down to like 60% Doctor Who and 10% Parks and Rec and 30% Other, including some socially conscious posts. The cringe has lessened, but still there.

Also I’m on The Parting of the Ways, and yeah season 1 of New Who was just as uneven as I remembered it. Eccelston did the best he could with what he was given, which was sometimes great, and the rest of the main cast was admirable as well. Mickey, still underrated. Captain Jack... still amazing. And the Doctor did him so, so wrong by leaving him behind. Gah.

Anyway, in two nights I’ve now gone back over 750 pages of 15 posts per page, I’m on page 2488 of 2981. I’ve deleted over 600 posts (40 pages worth) because they were dumb, bad, irrelevant, broken or just something I no longer want on my blog anymore. I’m still only in mid-January, less than 8 months after this blog was started, but also I think I’m getting near the point of where I set up a queue and did a lot less post-spamming. I may pick this project back up sometime next week, since I’m about to have a very busy rest of the week. I think the worst of the cringe is past, though.

#personal post tag thingy #notes on a blog cleanup

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s4lticid · 6 years

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The Shady as all Hell Whistleblower: Or why we shouldn’t take Romelle at face value.

Some firsts:

First and foremost, my deep thanks to the wonderful family at the Lotura Discord Server. In the midst of dumping this stream of consciousness mess on you all, I may pull some ideas that were discussed there and are not original to me. Where possible I will try and credit individuals, but if I miss anyone my deepest apologies and know that everyone there has had a great deal of influence over my thought process. My love and thanks for all the great discussion and support – even the stuff I haven’t been present for!

Second, this and the stuff to come right after, was the work of lots of thought and research that started right after S6 dropped. That is a long time, and I wanted to get something out sooner but I have just been too swamped with RL, which has decided to become a giant, bloody, throbbing, pus-filled buboe blocking me from doing much of anything fun at all ever again. Thus you will be treated to a stream of as much shit as I can spit out at once in the time I have to get this down, and it may not be in the best format or particularly well written, but here goes… oh, and this is also another reason I may forget who said what in conversations exactly, because some of it happened nearly 2 months ago.

I am aware there have been a few metas written about Romelle. I haven’t actually read any of them at this point, except for Leaking Hate’s awesome meta here, because I didn’t want to get overly influenced by the ideas of others. As such I have been on reading and participating in fandom even less that RL gave me a chance to. So if you see something here that was said by someone outside of the Lotura Server and they are not credited, it is not me copying someone, I have just been holding on to it until I could post this.

That said, this builds off of some things LH posted in the above link, and I will do my best to credit those conversations I can remember reading and/or participating in within the Discord.

~oOo~

OKAY.

I’m going to come right out and say it:

Romelle is not who she says she is.

There are too many inconsistencies in her story. So, let’s start at the very beginning and begin poking the holes to prove my point:

1. Keith and Krolia find Romelle:

Keith and Krolia are in the Quantum Abyss riding a Space Whale and it brings them to a planet. Krolia takes a reading, and finds the same signal as the strange quintessence the Blade has been tracking on that planet.

Note: Krolia first sees the readings from space and tracks them to the planet. She doesn’t find any Quintessence signal anywhere else, she specifically states that it is strong and coming from exactly one place.

It is coming from here:

So, if there was a moon base absolutely full of Alteans being drained for their quintessence, as they were shown later, why ever did such a larger source not register first and foremost rather than that cute little dome Romelle is in?

Speaking of that Dome, it’s pretty small, isn’t it? It’s a bio-dome. Meant for a few inhabitants. Does this look like it could house a colony, or even a village realistically? No. It can handle a handful, maybe a dozen people. Probably, it was meant to house just one. But we’ll get to that later.

Keith and Krolia break in and find Romelle, alone and by a riverside. Washing clothes? Why do that in her only clean water source when she has technology all around her? And make no mistake here, she is alone and demands help.

~oOo~

Now I am going to digress here for a moment before I go on to point 2, so I can point out a parallel to the original show, Defender of the Universe (to be referred to from here on as DotU for brevity’s sake, and for my fingers).

There are a LOT of nods to the original shows, (GoLion too), throughout VLD. Some are flat out mirrors for the original, same plot ideas remade, lines taken and reused, Characters, Mechas, motives and situations, they’re all here, though sometimes reworked in very unexpected ways. It’s beautiful seeing them all.

Finding the pretty Damsel alone by a stream, helpless, perhaps even passed out, is one plot device DotU used a LOT.

For instance, when Allura’s Aunt Orla comes to visit, Haggar intercepts and captures her, and then takes her form and lies down to appear knocked out after an attack on her carriage. She is found lying by a stream. That was a plot to get to Allura:

Or how about the time Haggar herself was caught being pretty for a day – in apparently her original form – and cursed the person who saw her?

Again, found by a river.

Fine, you say. But this isn’t Haggar pretending to be Romelle. That didn’t happen, right?

Oh but it did. “It’ll Be a Cold Day”:

Ok, so she wasn’t found by a river this time. But two out of three combined with the VLD writers’ way of reworking things make this a nice little reference point for this original trope.

Something else to note here is there is always some part of Haggar that is a tell. Some part which she cannot disguise. I would posit that we have one with VLD Romelle too: Her clothes. As you go through this post, where you see images of other Alteans, please get a look at their garb. There are several styles that are re-used among each of the people shown. However not one of them wears the same cut we see Romelle wear. And yet someone does. Who? Haggar/Honerva.

No, I am not saying Romelle is actually Honerva/Haggar in disguise. But she could easily be in league with her, and at the very least she definitely is not the innocent she appears and claims to be. Not just because of these fun little references to the original, but they are nice signposts along the way.

~oOo~

2. Romelle’s Story: The Colony

Romelle starts her story to the Paladins by telling them she comes from a planet where there are thousands of Alteans.

This bears repeating: Thousands. Of living Alteans.

Not “were” thousands, but are.

Lotor apparently hunted down every Altean who had been off planet at the time Altea was destroyed, and their offspring, to bring them to the first Colony.

Here is an image of the beginnings of that colony:

Here’s another:

Green as far as the eye can see and a giant ship that, as Leaking Hate pointed out in her meta and on Discord, is easily the size of the dome we were shown above where Keith and Krolia first found Romelle.

That ship would never fit in the bio-dome. And as the upper picture of these two states in the subtitles, Lotor chose a remote planet beyond the Quantum Abyss, not in the Abyss. A planet with a sun such that plants could grow, not a pulsar.

This means it cannot same planet as Romelle was found on, because she states the colony planet is beyond the Abyss, so the Abyss and the Pulsar within it already existed back then. Neither could that ship ever hope to fit inside that dome, as is shown in her memory.

And that colony that was built, shown in the lower picture? Is easily twice as big, or more, as the one Romelle is found in.

3. Romelle’s Story: The Second Colony

Generations ago, once the Colony was very successful, Lotor began testing Alteans for special characteristics such that they could survive the journey to and live on a “Second Colony”. “To better our chances for survival”.

Let’s start with who was chosen.

Around Nine Thousand Five Hundred to Nine Thousand years ago – assuming time for Lotor to mature enough to do all this, knowing that he ages slowly thanks to the writers – Lotor would have started the first Colony. The last people brought might have been found within a couple of hundred years of that range, but probably less.

Think about how long a time that is.

Now, get a look at the faces that came in with some of the survivors found way back then:

Now look at who is being tested:

(Note: I circled a few faces, but if you really look you will see many of the same ones from the above pic)

And note two of the faces I circled.

We know Alteans have a long life span. Far longer than Humans. But we also know from Allura’s reaction that they shouldn’t be anything like at least Nine Thousand Years or more.

So how are First-comer Refugee Alteans alive and young at the same time – ‘Generations Later’ – as both Romelle and Bandor?

Let’s argue that they could be. Bandor and Romelle were just younger then and not chosen. So then Why have neither of them aged at all by the time Romelle related that eventually Bandor was old enough to be tested and passed?

And look, here are some of the first people chosen. Recognize at least one face and clothing? (Not including Petrulius who is a contemporary of Romelle’s as she identifies him on the Moon Facility)

Sure they could be chosen much later, but then why have they not aged at all?

So were Romelle and Bandor refugees? If so then why did Romelle say she was born onto that planet?

Were they born on the planet as she claims?

Did Lotor start testing for special Alteans earlier than she says? Or was it really later? If the latter then how are these original refugees still so young?

However you look at it, her timeline does not add up,

4. Romelle’s Story: The Monument

Thanks in advance to Trisha, Giobana, Crystal Rebellion, Leaking Hate and anyone else who contributed to the conversation that led to this one.

Romelle shows us in her memory that there was a memorial wall to those who went to the Second Colony. Whether she mentions it to the Paladins, I don’t know, but what is shown in the episode looks very much like a memorial to the Fallen.

The base of the Lotor’s statue is covered in names, and we see it cracked with age. People go there to pay respects and leave flowers – and not just any flowers, but pink flowers.

This kind of memorial is what you do for Fallen Soldiers and Fighters in a struggle, not people who are alive off somewhere on another colony and whom you hope to see again once the struggle is over. We even see this is a cross-cultural, cross-species, and intergalactic practice when we see the monument planet Pidge first traced Matt to.

And what do we know about Pink to Alteans? From Allura:

Fallen Warriors. Not people who have gone to a second colony in the hopes of keeping their people alive.

Actually, let’s look at that little tale there. Any colony, in order to be successful, requires a genetically diverse population, a breeding population. A handful of people at a time, because they test as special is not going to provide that. Particularly not in what has been portrayed as a potentially dangerous and harsh journey and place – that alone would be safer in numbers.

Add to that we clearly see that Lotor has separated breeding pairs – Couples – in the few images we see of those chosen. If he is trying to establish a new colony why would he logically do that? The Alteans are intelligent and have some technological expertise, at least some of them, how did no one question that?

I call Shenanigans.

Whatever was going on, it was not another colony and the Alteans all knew it.

This wall? Is a War Memorial honoring warriors who the Alteans think are probably dead.

5. Romelle’s Story: The Communicator

When Bandor is chosen, he is portrayed as giving Romelle a communicator to try and stay in touch with her.

This, despite his being portrayed by her as someone who deeply believed in the importance of not compromising the location of each colony through stray communications that could be picked up and tracked. He is portrayed as explaining to Romelle, in such a ways that impies he has explained it to her time and again, why it was so very important that there be no communication. He seems to understand and believe that it could be life and death. But he creates one anyway?

And then, he doesn’t think to give it to her until he is about to board the ship, in front of the guards:

Look at this picture above. If you zoom in, everyone is looking at them and watching.

This whole part of the story is flat out ridiculous, and makes zero sense. There is no logic to this chain of events or his giving her the thing only at that very moment and not before testing just in case or something.

It is a lie on the level a six year old might tell. It shouldn’t even be considered as more than that. And it is here, I think, that we fly into the realm of pure fantasy. Everything up till now was probably half-truths and misdirection. From here on out though, her story really starts to fall apart and it is very likely we are seeing total and full fabrication.

6. Romelle’s Story: The Dome

We know Romelle never gets chosen for the second Colony, or at least she never states that she does. Her never being chosen for the second colony wouldn’t be something to hide, it could totally benefit her story. It would also help to explain why they didn’t try to warn anyone or stop the testing once they found the moon base – a fact that no one questioned, which itself is suspicious. But she implies by her story that she remains at home, among her people, all alone and depressed because now she has no family.

So she is supposedly still at the original colony when Bandor finally does contact her. He has crashed by the woods. She goes to him and what does she see?

The roof of the Dome. Which we have already established does not exist on the First Colony. So, where is she? Why is she now in this Dome?

What happened in the intervening time that she is not telling us, and is this story about Bandor crashing and the communicator even true? Or are we now in fully manipulative fantasy?

There appear to be no other people in the Dome at all. At least neither Keith nor Krolia relate having seen even one single person to corroborate her story. No other Alteans on this original Colony she is supposed to still be on, which is where Keith and Krolia supposedly find her, and where she states very clearly in the beginning of her story that there are thousands of living, healthy Alteans.Why did Keith and Krolia not see one other person?

Why does Romelle know about a flight bay on the outside of the Dome such that she can take Keith and Krolia to it, but they are supposed to be on an open planet?

When Romelle shows them to said pod, she actually says that “No one else here would know how to fly them if they wanted to”. She represents in this line, once again, that this is the First Colony and there are other people here. So where are they?

7. The Moon Base

Let’s begin with a question I asked at the beginning.

Why, when they were coming in to the planet, did Krolia see

no quintessence signal at all

from that moon base?

These supposed people are supposedly being harvested – and Keith uses the active verb.

These people

Are. Not. Dead

The signal of Quintessence from a place so full of so many people, and the energy being harvested from them, not to mention the pods of Quintessence being harvested off in a storage room somewhere, being collected and stored for pickup, would have logically dwarfed the signal coming from Romelle and her little Dome. They would have ended up here first, not at the Dome.

Even when they finally get there, at first Krolia only says she sees something down on the moon, not that she is getting any kind of Quintessence signal there.

Why? Because there isn’t any.

The pods and the people are a mirage, created by them and for them; woven out of their own pre-existing prejudice and hate, and so very easy for them to believe.

Lotor never was portrayed as taking so very many people at once. For that many people to still be alive and being drained on that station, almost every single Altean would have to still be alive and being used.

A key thing Lotor has been portrayed as is not wasteful. Realistically, and if this were true, Alteans would have died of age. Some even may have died from the process itself.

Why would you keep a dead body in a pod like that for generations, and just build another?

You wouldn’t. You would dispose of the corpse and reuse the pod.

There wouldn’t be so very many of them if what Keith and Krolia saw was real, and was what they thought.

Let’s get a look at the pods, btw. They are very reminiscent of Earth Batteries or Quintessence Capsules themselves, aren’t they? Why do you think that is? Perhaps because they are being manufactured from the thoughts and imaginings of Keith and Krolia?

Here is what real Galra Pod Tech looks like – this is the most recent example, but we HAVE seen it before in earlier seasons. I am just too lazy to go and find it.

Lotor is a Prince, with access to resources and a scientist who designs and creates his own tech advances, ships and fleets. To top that he has access to all of the best and latest technology in the empire.

Does this really look anything like real, known and hi-tech Galra technology, except in a passing, functional way?

And why, after they have seen this and come to the conclusions they have, if the colony is right there and they have not only the proof but are themselves outsiders, giving them credibility…. WHY do Keith and Krolia – both Altruistic heroic do-gooders – not go and try to warn the rest of the Colony? Get them to stop participating or submitting to the tests?

Again, that makes no sense at all according to their personalities. Instead, they run headlong back to Allura to blow the whistle on evil, evil Lotor. No stops, no questions, no thought about the others still at risk.

Also, no proof aside from this one little girl and her story, which without other evidence amounts to nothing more than Heresay. No pictures, no video and no attempt to grab a jar of Quintessence to prove their case.

We find out in S7, that Keith at least sent a message to Kolivan and asked him to send a squad out there. But what did Kolivan’s team find?

Nothing. The place was empty. “Cleaned out”. And judging by the lighting when they got there, it was already probably empty and shut down. They just imagined the pods. How else would it be empty? It’s not like Lotor had any time to clear it. Neither did Honerva, if Kolivan acted right away – and honestly, Kolivan would have acted as fast as he could.

Speaking of Honerva:

8. On the Castle of Lions

Honerva is watching through Mommy Cam Kuron. Nowhere in this episode is she at all surprised or disturbed to see another living Altean.

We find out later when she speaks to Lotor that she is aware that he has continued her work and succeeded where she could not. That work was partly involving Alteans, but I will get to what that means later and probably in a different post.

So she is aware that Alteans exist, but she is still not at all surprised to see Romelle there in the castle. At all. As if it is part of her plan. Could Romelle be in league with Honerva? A part of a plan?

OR, thanks to the Blade being compromised by the alliance with Lotor – which Keith points out in S7 – Honerva found out about the investigation into the Quintessence early on into the new Alliance and traced the path herself. She has access to all databases and resources in the Empire, after all, and we do not know what she was doing for a looong time while a lot of other things were going down in S5 and S6.

Kolivan and the blade, despite their own resources, were having trouble tracing the source and route of the quintessence. Perhaps what they did find was carefully fed to them when Honerva was ready for them. When both she and Romelle were prepared.

And let’s talk a moment about how not one of the members of the team, including both Hunk and Kuron – both great voices of calm and reason for the team – questioned any of the discrepancies of the story I mentioned above, or Keith and Krolia’s actions, lack of corroboration and lack of trying to help the surviving colonists.

They have started to build a relationship with the Galra, learn their culture and working hard for peace for months and months. They were all starting to get to know and like Lotor even. They know the careful balance going on right now in the empire. And then one girl shows up with an MIA team member and has an uncorroborated story, and starts ordering people to shoot Lotor down, not caring that Allura is there too. Even after she is told that Allura is there she doesn’t care.

Her story starts preying on emotion and projecting her own obvious desire to see him dead. And the team members all get very emotional and ready for violence as well, as if the last several months never happened. Their reasoning starts to slip, they don’t question or think out what they’re being told, not even the ones that normally do that no matter what.

And then we have this foreshadowing from waaaay near the beginning of the show:

Keith is still a hothead in many ways. And he was too impatient to get Lotor to be focused against mind control.

He shows up on the Castle ready to rush into the rift and attack. Even after hearing that Allura would be caught in the crossfire he presses to try and do just that and has to be bitchslapped by Lance.

The sheer venom and anger in all of the Paladins’ responses once Romelle is done with her story is off the scale. Especially Hunk and Shiro. Shiro’s tone when he says once Lotor and Allura land they will separate them and “Take Lotor down!” is a tone I have never once heard from him in the entire series. It’s sheer rage fueled bloodlust. This is not any of them. This is them being manipulated.

A brief thought about S7… Never mind that Romelle’s Altean frankly sucks, and she seems able to read Hunk’s mind – convenient that. How about Romelle identifying Lotor’s fleet by sight? When did she ever see enough of that, while living isolated on the colony, to know his ships by sight?

SO. Who or what is Romelle?

Well, we have seen how characters are reworked from the original. And there is one major character from the original we still haven’t seen.

Merla.

It makes no sense to bring in a new character now. But merging her with another character already brought in, one who disliked and enjoyed thwarting Lotor as much as the original Romelle did? That is not only possible, it is plausible, considering many of the character merges and re-works the VLD Team has already done throughout the series.

Merla is telepathic, but more, she can control people. Partly via telepathy, but most often she uses the trope known as Emotion Bomb:

https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/EmotionBomb

It is so much easier to control people through emotions and insecurities they already have. And by the behavior of the Paladins that day? That is exactly what was happening. Not one of them acted rationally or completely within the current development of their character to Romelle and her appearance/story. Not even Keith and Krolia did when they found her, as pointed out earlier.

They are all being manipulated and at least mostly, lied to. They are pawns and Romelle a tool to get Lotor out of their Alliance and out of his safe space with Voltron. This is why Honerva was not surprised about Romelle being there on the ship. This is how Honerva knew about the Alteans and the research when she finally got Lotor back onto her ship to try and talk to him.

Honerva is back to herself and she wants to get back to her people, probably to lead them. She wants her son back now that she has herself again too. To get even a chance at that she needs to get him away from his safe and stabilizing place with the Voltron Coalition. She wants his Sincline ship, so she wouldn’t need Voltron anymore. She certainly wouldn’t want him cozying up to Alfor’s Daughter.

Honerva has put a nice chess game onto the table, getting Romelle on her side, manipulating the Paladins, and forcing the breach in the budding New Empire and Alliance.

Romelle is pissed, perhaps understandably, and has a bone to pick. She may have been exiled to that planetoid by her people and Lotor, for starting shit on the Colony, and found there by Honerva, or she may have been set up there by Honerva. In the end the result is the same. Perfect tool.

Because Lotor had not been harvesting Alteans all this time. Romelle, as he said in the episode, was not telling the truth and did not know what she spoke of. What would be the point of that, there is no research in that, only death. No, he has been developing fighters like the one we saw in the end of S7. Fighters that fuse Altean Alchemic Magic and fighting skill from the pilot, allowing the pilot to see and experience straight through the ship’s sensors, and powering the ship through their own Quintessence – very like the Lions only more. (My thanks to Crystal Rebellion who helped me develop this base idea with this meta. There will be more to come on this.)

The special Alteans who went with him from the colony were test pilots, heroes to their people, to help ensure their survival. A new protective military force. .

Test pilots have a dangerous job, one that is known to lead to death. And who knows, maybe some Galra had snooped around at times. Regardless, that memorial to fallen warriors was just exactly that, and all the Altean people knew exactly what they were volunteering for.

Even Lotor said a few were martyred for an important cause to save the future for thousands. One cannot become a martyr unless everyone knows what they did and why.

Lotor is their greatest Hero and Savior. And now his Mother is likely there – having forsaken the Druids – and has given the Colony a story of betrayal, and the Komar to perfect their fighters. Perhaps a wounded and/or Comatose Lotor is with her if she managed to pull him out of the rift first. But regardless, the Alteans are not friends to Allura, Voltron or the Coalition. They are going to see Allura and the Paladins as enemies, who betrayed and hurt their leader and protector.

That fighter was not a part of Sendak’s fleet, she was a forward thrust. A shot across the Paladin’s bow. The Alteans will be hunting Voltron.

I’ll leave you with a parting thought.

The writers also said in the end, we would look back and see that Lotor was never lying. And that he came from a genuine place, though he never had the tools and choices the rest of the Paladins were given in their upbringings and lives. And lastly, that his feelings for Allura were indeed genuine.

I am working on a meta for Lotor. I’ll get there soon.

My thanks again to everyone on the Lotura Discord. You are all amazing, wonderful people and I am lucky to have met you and to be able to discuss ideas with you.

Thanks to Crystal Rebellion for helping me last minute find links at 2 AM so I can get a bit of sleep before work

And thanks to the love of my life for putting up with me being tied up so late tonight.

Without your support I can do so little.

#lotura #@VLD #meta #Romelle is Shady #don't trust the bitch #Romerla

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maevefiction · 5 years

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Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 40

We wound up staying at Diana’s until Sunday, then headed home to the chaos that awaited us. My gift for Tom had been well received, the shades of red he’d turned much like watching a tomato ripening in a time lapse video. We decide to wait until he was done filming to have our playtime, hoping things would be a smidge less stressful and that we’d actually have plenty of time to just fuck around. Literally, as the case happened to be. He’d given me a leather lingerie set, complete with crotch-less panties and a corset that I knew would turn my boobs into a squishy shelf…but the best part was the policeman-style cap, which I’d been wearing around the house to torment him.

Monday was spent in the office with Trudy, testing and testing and testing again, over and over, until any bugs we’d found were worked out. As far as we could discern, we were ready to roll. After the security company was done installing everything on Tuesday, it was time to go live with the group of 50 we’d chosen as beta testers. Luke, who’d left at noon with Simon to take care of the final wedding prep tasks, texted me more than two dozen times to express his amazement as he delved into Manageall’s features before, I assumed, Simon took his phone away from him. Radio silence ensued until midnight, when Simon came knocking at the door in a full blown panic because he wasn’t certain his shoes were the same shade of white as his suit. It took me more than an hour to convince him that they were, in fact, the same, and he wrapped me in a grateful embrace and finally left me to get some rest, Tom already in bed and snoring.

The office was officially closed for the next five days, so on Wednesday, when I wasn’t practicing singing, I pretended to not be working while I was actually working until it was time for the quiet dinner we’d planned at Luke and Simon’s. It was just the four of us, plus Roland, who was an absolute delight. We bonded over movies, music and tech and as we were leaving he gave me a tentative hug, blushing furiously afterward, Simon whispering in my ear shortly thereafter that it looked like SOMEONE had a quickly developed a wicked crush on me.

New Year’s Eve dawned crisp and clear, and Simon and I took a late-afternoon cab ride to Searcys so we could check in and make sure everything was exactly as it should be. We entered the Gherkin, and he grabbed my hand as we got into the elevator, his skin clammy.

“This is happening. It’s happening. I can’t believe it. It’s incredible. I’m so…happy. Also, I’m pretty sure I’m dying.”

I laughed. “You’ll be fine. Everything’s going to be fine. Fine.”

His eyes narrowed. “If that was your attempt at assuaging my nerves…LAME. SO LAME.”

“You think you’re the only one with nerves? I cannot, for the life of me, get the last part of the song right. Because I am not Nina Simone. My scatting SUCKS. SO HARD.”

He released my hand in order to poke me in the shoulder. “I AM GETTING MARRIED AND YOU ARE COMPARING YOUR NERVES WITH MINE?”

“Actually I’m trying to distract you, asshat. Not working, is it?”

“No. Do you have any booze?”

The elevator doors opened, and as we stepped into the room he burst into tears. The round tables were all in place, forming a ring around the room with the center reserved for dancing, with an open spot on the far side of the room where the DJ had begun setting up. They were covered in charcoal grey cloths that matched the gentlemen of the wedding party’s suits, peppered with silver stars, glossy black circular Lucite slabs resting atop them. The centerpieces were twelve silver cylinders arranged in a ring, each with two white roses wound together in them, symbolizing midnight and two becoming one. Which was, you know, a totally minor detail that everyone would be too drunk to care about, but Simon had been so pleased with himself at coming up with the idea I knew he’d be pointing it out all evening and it was my duty as his maid of honor to fill in when he was too sloshed to speak any longer. The chairs, eight per table, were glossy black as well, the napkins gleaming white, the clear glassware and silver flatware smooth and unmarked. Above us was a net of white fairy lights that formed an artificial ceiling several feet below the pointed top of the room, and the floor was black stone, rectangular tiles shined to perfection, my reflection staring back at me when I glanced downward.

“Maude, Maude, it’s…it’s…I just…” He fanned his face with both hands. “Crying is bad. So bad. I can’t start off the evening looking like a puffy, splotchy nightmare.” Several deep, cleansing breaths later he was back in control, walking the room in search of imperfections. The sun had nearly set, and as we looked out the windows the city lights began to come on in quick succession, and the skyline was even more beautiful that it was during the daylight hours. As we drew closer to the DJ, the staff erected a rectangular table that would hold the cake and champagne fountain, the spot directly in front of it marked with an 18” silver star, indicating where the vow exchange was to take place. A voice sounded from behind us.

“A bit early, aren’t you, Simon?”

Turning around, I was stunned by the familiarity of the face in front of me. Her hair was dirty blonde, down past her shoulders, eyes a warm brown, smile welcoming and friendly. Dressed in loose black slacks and a black turtleneck paired with sensible black flats, I was tickled by the silver star-shaped earrings and chain belt she’s chosen to match the theme of the event. Around her neck was a black leather camera strap, the Nikon D5 it connected to in her right hand. Simon squeaked, then gave her a gentle hug, introducing us after pulling away.

“Maude Gallagher, meet Willa Morgan, high-end fashion photographer whom I suckered into shooting a wedding and now owe a huge favor that I will likely never be able to repay. Willa, meet Maude, Social Media Director for Prosper PR and my bestest friend whom I suckered into being my maid of honor which I’m sure she regrets and will hold against me for-ev-er.”

We both laughed, and I extended my left hand, which she shook firmly.

“Lovely to meet you, Maude.”

“Lovely to meet you as well, Willa.”

Her smile faded as she released me, replaced with a look of intense concentration. “Would you two mind standing on the star there so I can gauge some angles?”

We obliged, goofing around and pretending to make out while the poor woman attempted to do her job, eventually giving up on us, shaking her head as she laughed and set about acquiring shots of the rest of the set-up. I whispered in Simon’s ear as we moved to make room for the fountain assembly dolly.

“Um, is it just me or does Willa look EXACTLY like Brie Larson?”

He stared at her in the distance, then turned to me, eyes wide. “You know, I never thought about it before, but she really DOES. I wonder if I have a Doppelganger.” His nose crinkled as if he’d caught whiff of something vile. “Nah, there can’t be anyone out there as pretty as I am.”

It was going on six when we departed, waiting until every little thing was in place, right down to the wedding favors, which were silver mesh bags containing black and white M&Ms with Luke and Simon’s faces on them. I would never forget the day we texted about it, both of us rendered unable to correspond for at least ten minutes after Simon suggested having a special batch made up with dick pics on them for any guests who annoyed him.

Upon my return to our building I was thrown without pause into the chaos that surrounds any wedding party preparing for the celebration. I would be joined at Simon’s side by Roland and Phaedra, who was thrilled that she was so loved that she’d been included as a friend and wasn’t stuck sitting out as the mother of the groom. Luke had Tom, as well as Emma and Darren, his best mate from university. I hadn’t realized how close he and Emma were, but she and Tom had both followed him over to his own firm for personal reasons as well as professional ones. Emma and Phaedra’s dresses, both still hanging on the rack in the hall, were dove grey, with a halter-like top, almost a V-neck with the sleeves removed, leaving only a ribbon of fabric over each clavicle and connecting with the bodice, shoulders fully exposed. They were, in a way, the reverse of my dress. The waist was high, an under-slip of satin topped with translucent silky fabric flowing to ankle length. When I entered our flat my female cohorts were standing in the middle of the living room, clad in white terry-cloth robes, waiting for the make-up and hair team to ready their materials. Emma ran to embrace me.

“Maude! Hi hi hi! It’s been a bit, how are you? So great to see you!”

I squeezed her back, letting go and pulling away when one of the make-us-beautiful people thrust another white robe in my direction. “I’m good, how’s everything with you?”

Her nose scrunched, and she bit her bottom lip briefly. “Well, I’m starting to stress, if I’m honest. The benefit is seventeen days out and I’m still waiting on confirmation from people as to what songs…”

I interrupted her. “Aaaannndd I’m one of those people. Shit. Sorry. Gonna speak for Simon too, because he’ll never remember to tell you. I’m doing ‘Before I’m Dead’ by the Kidney Thieves, Simon’s doing Nirvana’s ‘Heart Shaped Box’ and together we’re attempting ‘Crystalized’ by the xx. Here, I’ll text you that right now. Do you need the durations? I can send you the files too if you want.”

She brushed the side of her hand across her forehead. “Phew. Thanks, that’s one down. Please, do send the files if you have them. I’ll check the length myself. And thank you for being willing to do it…I feel so blessed to be surrounded by such generous people. Ohhh…by the way, I’ve seen the app and it is INCREDIBLE. Can’t wait to use it...” She sighed as one of the hairdressers called her name, then smiled. “Oh well. We’ll get to chat in the car on the way, I’m sure.”

A snort escaped me as I typed out a message for her. “Like Simon’s going to let any of us get a word in edgewise.”

We both laughed, and Phaedra looked up from her own phone, waving as I headed to the bathroom to undress. Once my robe was safely secured over my nakedness, I opened the door to find one Thomas William Hiddleston standing five feet away, already dressed for the evening in his charcoal grey suit, white shirt, silver tie, cummerbund and pocket square. He smiled, and I first melted at the sheer beauty of him, then had a mild panic attack when I realized that the six months until I’d see him dressed for our wedding seemed both like a second and an eternity all at once.

He waved. “Hi.”

I waved back. “Hi. You look like…like…like you should come on over here and kiss me.”

His head shook from side to side, slowly. “That’s a terrible idea.”

“Is it?”

He nodded. “Yes. Because I know what’s under that robe. And if I get any closer…”

Raising my hands up near my ears carefully, I began to move backwards into the bathroom. “Right. Okay. Yep. But you know the dress is kinda…worse…”

He saluted, body tensing visibly. “Well I’m off then. Love you.”

“Love you too. One word. Pasties.”

His response was but a muffled groan as he strode quickly into the hall. I was whisked away to a director’s chair, where Marcus sung the praises of my hair and tamed it enough so it could be left down and loose. Emma’s had been pinned into a bun at the nape of her neck, Phaedra’s braided and wound around her head, creating a band of sorts. They were both in the middle of a pre-makeup facial, which I had no interest in receiving but quickly discovered wasn’t optional. After I was deemed clean, fresh and acceptable, foundation was applied, then silver crème and smoky grey shadow, black winged liner, and black mascara. My lips took the longest, first lined with a deep, dark red, then carefully painted blood red, and finally coated with a several layers of silver glitter gloss. I stood and stretched, arms straight up over my head, sighing softly as I lowered them back to my sides. An older woman approached me, black hair, rail thin, dressed in pink yoga pants and a black and white fitted T-shirt with a giant Hello Kitty on the front. There was a large brown satchel over her shoulder, and a garment bag slung over her outstretched arm. She smiled beatifically.

“Hello, Maude. I’m Gillian. Ready for your dress?”

“Yes. Yes I am. Thank you. Where would you like me?”

Her steel-blue eyes narrowed for a moment. “Well, we’ll need a private space, unless you don’t mind…”

My left hand shot up to shoulder height, palm toward her. “I’ve managed to make it this far without anyone in the room seeing my boobs…let’s keep the streak alive and head up to the master bedroom, if that works for you.”

She nodded, and I led the way, allowing her to enter the space first, then followed, closing the door behind us.

“Lovely flat you have here, Maude.” She placed the garment bag on the bed, ever so gently, and the utter weirdness of having a stranger in a place where so much intimacy happened made me cringe. Just a little, but still…a cringe. Gillian set her satchel on the chair and began rummaging through it, pulling out a small package and a bottle of what I knew had to be body glue. She looked around, pointing toward the bathroom.

“Probably best if we apply the pasties in there…oh, I almost forgot…” Her hand delved back into her bag, neon pink nails seeming to flash as she moved. “Ah, here they are. I have panty options for you as well, in case you need them.”

“Thank you, Gillian. I think I do need them…all my stuff is either dark or patterned.”

She walked into the bathroom, hot-pink Mary Janes clicking on the floor, and I followed. She spread everything out on the countertop…first came the half dozen pasties, all different shades, but all circular with a silver star that matched the dress perfectly in the center. Next to them she plopped a pile of fabric, the details as yet indiscernible, but there was a variation of tone there as well.

Her hands clapped together. “All right then…set your robe aside and we’ll get to work, if you please.”

I undid the tie, let the front hang open, then pulled my arms back through the sleeves and let it fall to the floor. She looked me up and down.

“Oh good, I believe I’ve gotten your sizing just right. And, you wax. Thank the lord for small favors.” I could feel my right brow rise against my will. She laughed. “No shade intended, but gals who prefer the au naturel look make it a bit harder for me to conceal the works without them wearing boxer briefs. With the style dress you have, it has a tendency to ruin the illusion, if you know what I mean.”

“I understand completely.”

She sifted through the pile and held up something that could only be described as a high-waisted thong. I took a moment to consider whether or not I was okay with my ass cheeks hanging out, then quickly shook my head. Next was a simple brief, and I nodded.

“Excellent choice. They’re form fitting and will be rather snug, which should be just fine with your shape. I don’t see much chance of spill-over happening. Now, let’s see which tone matches your skin best.”

Once that decision was made, I put them on…and she wasn’t kidding about the snugness. They were, like, snug to the tenth power snug. But, just as she thought, the band sat right at my waist and thus, there was no muffin-top to be found. She walked around me, checking out the rear view, nodding as she circled back to my front.

“Perfect. They match so well it looks like you aren’t wearing a blessed thing.”

The pasties came next, in the same shade. I stayed behind when she left the room, figuring peeing before putting on the dress was better than going afterward, because with my luck I’d dip it in the bowl and this way I’d at least make it to Searcys in decent shape. Probably. Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror on the way back to the bedroom, I decided I most closely resembled an extra from the Rocky Horror Picture Show, which started me singing the Time Warp under my breath. Gillian was cautiously removing my dress from its bag, and when she lifted her head to smirk at me I knew she’d heard me.

“Oh, that’s a classic, Maude. Well done. You should request it tonight.”

I chuckled. “That is an excellent idea. What’s a wedding without a good pelvic thrust session?”

We both laughed as I stepped into the dress, then slowly worked my arms into the sleeves. Gillian zipped me up, inhaling sharply as she walked round to my front.

“Gorgeous. My word. Futuristic, yet ethereal. Stunning.”

I walked over to the bedroom mirror to take a look, my reflection’s jaw dropping open. The transformative power of a bit of makeup and some fabric never ceased to amaze me.

“Wow, it really DOES look like I’m totally naked. Great job matching the tones, Gillian. Perfection.”

She’d begun gathering her things, stuffing them all unceremoniously back into the satchel. “Thank you kindly. Do you need help with your shoes?”

“Well…probably not…but if you have time…”

She nodded and retrieved them from their box on the dresser. They bore some resemblance to dance shoes, with a two and a half inch spike heel and thick sole in the rounded toe area, two half-inch straps across the top, thoroughly coated in large pieces of silver glitter that matched the stars on my dress perfectly. I remained standing with one hand on the bedpost to maintain my balance as she slipped them on and secured the straps.

“There you are, then. Take a few steps and make sure the straps aren’t too tight.”

I did, heels clicking on the floor, then turned back to her. “Just right. Danceable, even. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Let’s get you downstairs….it’s just about nine and the car needs to be en route by ten after at the latest. New Year’s Eve traffic is hellish, I assure you.”

Phaedra and Emma were waiting in the living room, and they applauded as I descended, both unable to resist the urge to fondle the fabric when I reached them. Emma’s eyes widened when she realized that I didn’t have a full netting underneath, as most sane people would.

“Maude, my lord, those…are those…the stars on your…”

Nodding, I reached out and patted her on the shoulder. “My boobs. Yes. Pasties.” She blushed, and Phaedra sighed.

“Oh, how I miss having breasts that don’t point directly at the floor. Enjoy them, girls, while you still can. The day will come when you have to be cautious lest you light them on fire whilst preparing a meal.”

Emma’s blush deepened. “Phaedrea, oh my god. You’re horrid.”

I did my best to suppress my laughter, but to no avail, and Phaedra joined in. “I speak the truth, Emma. It’s your future. Best embrace it.”

We were interrupted by Simon shouting as he traipsed through the open door.

“LADIES. OUR CARRIAGE HAS ARRIVED. WE MUST LEAVE AT ONCE FOR THE BALL.”

He stood by the kitchen counter, waiting, and I shook my head, incredulous at how absolutely perfect he appeared. Like he’d sprung up from the pages of an elite fashion magazine, his blonde hair slicked back, white suit practically glowing, and when he smiled, I damn near lost my shit.

“Dude. Simon. Dude. Seriously. My god. You’re like an…you look like…like…like an ANGEL. I mean, I know you’re NOT because, reasons, but WOW.”

Four steps forward brought him to me, and he kissed both my cheeks, then took my hands as he leaned back to inspect my attire. “You’re looking rather heaven-sent yourself, Maudie. And thank you. I do look damn fine, don’t I?” He kissed Emma and Phaedra next, expressing his appreciation for their beauty as well, and then we were out the door and down the stairs. Since the ceremony wasn’t until midnight there was no way to hide Luke and Simon from each other, so we’d decided to all share a single stretch limousine. Tom’s expression as he watched me approach him stirred up a slew of emotions in me, running the gamut from mild embarrassment to blatant desire, his unwavering stare seeming to bore right through the little I was wearing. As I drew closer his eyes filled with tears, his jaw unclenching as he smiled and reached for my hand.

“You. Are. So. Beautiful.”

I took hold of him, leaning in to catch his scent as we neared the limo.

“Oh good god, you’re wearing that new cologne again. That little hint of sandalwood mixed with orange…how am I supposed to LIVE?” He chuckled. “And thank you. You’re beautiful too, babe.”

He kissed my cheek as he helped me climb inside. “It’s going to be a long, long night, isn’t it?”

I nodded as I slid over next to Phaedra to make room for him just as Simon cracked open the first bottle of champagne.

“Oh yeah. I hope you have your phone, because I need to capture all this insanity so I can show it to their kids twenty years from now. Preferably right after they give them a lecture about how partying is so very, very inappropriate and bad for them.”

***************************************

It was five after ten when we arrived at Searcys, and the elevator ride up was unusually quiet, Simon and Luke clinging to each other and nervously adjusting each other’s lapels and white rose boutonnieres. Phaedra, Emma and I wore wrist corsages comprised of black netting and two intertwined white roses secured with silver ribbon, for which I was grateful. Schlepping around flowers and trying to have a good time while keeping them looking decent sounded like a total drag. Tom and I held hands, loosely, purely for the purpose of maintaining a physical connection. My nerves were still ever present, despite the fact that I’d sung in front of groups larger than this in the past. To be fair, I’d been intoxicated for most of those shows, though. Tonight, I’d try to lose myself in tasty tidbits and pretend that it was just a friendly karaoke bar, not someone’s once-in-a-lifetime moment. The doors slid open, and there we were, walking into a space that was positively overflowing with love for two people who deserved every single drop of it.

We were whisked away for photos, Willa directing us around the room, deciding who would be in which shots, carefully selecting the perfect backdrops. Once she was through with us, the hors d'oeuvres

stopped circulating and it was time for the seven course sit-down meal to begin. The wedding party was seated closest to the windows on the left side of the room, set back a few feet from the others. It was odd, eating prior to a ceremony, a backwards wedding of sorts, but the food was ridiculously delicious and the company unparalled so time seemed to speed on by. A sorbet was served as a palate cleanser after the main course, and at quarter to midnight we rose from our spots and retreated back toward the entrance where the hair and makeup folks were waiting behind oriental-style screens. Luke and Simon had timed their vows to last for five minutes, so the refresh was brief, followed by us all taking our places for the walk across the dance floor to the silver star marker. Phaedra and Darren walked first, followed by Roland and Emma, then Tom and me. Once we were on the proper sides, the wedding march began, and I had to bite my lip really, really hard so I wouldn’t weep at the sight of Luke and Simon walking towards us, hand in hand, their love for each other so clearly visible in their eyes, their expressions so joyful it was almost painful. They took their places on the star, Willa shooting discreetly yet furiously the entire time, and the officiant began. I missed most of that, only tuning in fully when the vow exchange began. Luke went first, his hand shaking as his right reached out for Simon’s left. His voice was clear, deep, and strong.

“Simon, that day you turned up for an interview…I thought that was the best day of my life. But it wasn’t, actually, because every day since that day has been the best day of my life. You’ve reminded me that there’s so much more to life than striving toward the next slot in the chain of financial success, shown me that joy can be found in even the smallest and bleakest moments. And, you’ve improved my wardrobe in ways I never could have imagined.”

Everyone laughed, and Simon reached up to pat Luke’s cheek.

“Over and above all that, you’ve taught me how to love, and how to love unconditionally. You are the man I dreamt of but never thought I’d ever find. My lover, my friend. It’s my honor to have you as my husband, and to be yours. From this day forward, it’s us, together, always. I call upon these persons here present to witness that I, Luke Windsor, do take thee, Simon Ahlberg, to be my lawful wedded husband. Will you accept this ring as a symbol of my commitment to you, to us?”

Simon’s voice broke as he answered. “Yes. I, Simon Ahlberg, take thee, Luke Windsor to be my wedded husband.” Luke slipped the platinum band onto his ring finger, then released him. Simon’s right hand reached out to take Luke’s left, and one incredibly deep breath later he began to speak.

“Luke. That day, when I walked into your office, I was on a mission. A mission to fundamentally change the way I was living. I was burnt out, used up, and in search of something new, something different, something that would inspire me, something that would make me wake up every morning excited and full of wonder. I thought that something would be an occupation, because that’s what filled my life before, but it turned out to be…you. Especially the waking up excited part.” Snickers and guffaws rose up around the room. “It was YOU. And I am the luckiest man, not only on Earth, but in the vastness of the universe, because I have you. Because you love me. ME! It’s ridiculously cliché, but Luke, you make me want to be a better man…and it’s my honor and privilege to share your life from this day forward as your husband. I call upon these persons here present to witness that I, Simon Ahlberg, do take thee, Luke Windsor, to be my lawful wedded husband. Will you accept this ring as a symbol of my commitment to you, to us?”

Both of their faces were damp with tears, and Luke swallowed hard twice before he responded. “Yes. Yes, yes, YES. I, Luke Windsor, take thee, Simon Ahlberg to be my wedded husband.”

Simon gently slid the platinum band, a twin of the one he now wore, onto Luke’s ring finger, then reached out to grasp Luke’s right hand with his left. The DJ began the ten second countdown to midnight, and the officiant spoke.

“Let it be known that these two men before me, and before all persons present, have, through their vows, declared themselves bound in matrimony. Ladies and gentlemen, I give to you…the Windsor-Ahlbergs!”

With that the clock struck midnight, Simon and Luke kissed, and congratulatory cheers mixed with shouts of ‘Happy New Year’ rang out. Tom was in front of me before the DJ could even begin to play Auld Lang Syne, his hands on the sides of my face as he bent so we were eye to eye.

“This is it. 2016. Soon enough, we’ll be saying our own vows, exchanging rings and I…I…I’m so in love with you, Maude. Happy New Year.”

His lips met mine, his hands wound around my waist, and mine around his, as we swayed to the music and I realized that I’d honestly never fully comprehended what it was supposed to mean, that New Year’s midnight kiss. Because any I’d ever received before hadn’t meant anything to me when compared to the way I felt right then, in that moment. We broke the kiss as the song ended, and the DJ’s voice boomed loudly through the sound system’s speakers.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR PEOPLE!” A round of cheering broke out again, and the DJ laughed. “All right, all right, you’re excited. Before we party, two things to take care of…the cutting of the cake by our happy couple, and…their first dance. We’re going to do the dance first, because you know someone’s going to get cake smeared all over them and that’s not a good look for the photo album, now is it? Luke and Simon have chosen ‘Feeling Good’ as their wedding song, and it will be performed by none other than maid-of-honor MAUDE GALLAGHER. Give the lady a hand!”

The applause was ridiculously loud, and I looked up at Tom, shouting over the din. “Happy New Year, you beautiful man. I love you. I’m probably going to die of embarrassment when I get to the scatting part, but…I love you.”

He kissed my forehead as he released me. “You’ll be amazing. Go. Do it. I’ll be right here, falling for you all over again.”

My head tilted to the left, mouth open, eyes narrowed. “Dude. I can’t even with you.” I planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.” And then, a microphone magically appeared in my hand, and there I was, standing on that silver star, with Luke and Simon staring at me from the center of the dance floor. And so I dove into the first verse acapella, the way Nina Simone had done it all those years ago.

Birds flyin' high, you know how I feel Sun in the sky, you know how I feel Breeze driftin' on by, you know how I feel It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life for me. Yeah, it's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life for me, ooooooooh... And I'm feelin' good. Fish in the sea, you know how I feel River runnin' free, you know how I feel Blossom on the tree, you know how I feel It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life for me, And I'm feelin' good Dragonfly out in the sun, you know what I mean, don't you know, Butterflies all havin' fun, you know what I mean. Sleep in peace when day is done: that's what I mean, And this old world is a new world and a bold world for me... Stars when you shine, you know how I feel Scent of the pine, you know how I feel Yeah, freedom is mine, and I know how I feel.. It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life for me And I'm feelin'... good.

The scatting was actually decent, and I knew that what I’d just completed was a personal best for me as far as performances went, and would probably turn out to be the best performance of my life. And it had little to do with me, at all. It was because of the two people running toward me, embracing me, and the love they had for each other that had set them free. And I knew how that felt, and that’s what poured up out of my soul, what powered my voice as I sang those words. Tom joined the group hug, then pulled me away from Simon and Luke.

“My god, that was incredible. You…I just…wow. Wow. Speechless.”

I grinned and pinched his cheek. “Oh, speechless. The best compliment Tom Hiddleston can possibly pay.”

He laughed, and the DJ announced that the time had come for cake chaos. Simon went first, and I was stunned when he held the piece steady and allowed Luke to take a dainty, mess-free bite. Luke’s full on face-smooshing smear fest when it was his turn was equally surprising…and insanely adorable, especially when he tried to help wipe it off and Simon kissed him instead. I turned to Tom.

“Two things. One, if you try to do that to me I’m going to bite your hand off and two, this is all so precious and perfect that I may soon vomit. Will cake help, do you think?”

He nodded. “Cake always helps. And then, dancing?”

“Yes. Cake. Dancing. More cake. More dancing. Repeat as necessary until the paramedics show up to treat either my sugar overdose or painful bodily injury.”

And that’s exactly what we did, until 4 AM rolled around and we staggered to the elevator, then out to the waiting car. Simon and Luke had taken their own to a nearby hotel, where they’d stay until late afternoon tomorrow, when they’d be boarding a plane to enjoy their five day honeymoon in Greece. Phaedra had agreed to see Roland home, and shared a car with Emma and Darren as they were all headed in the same direction, which left Tom and I to our own devices. He wasn’t blotto drunk, but drunk enough to be a terror as far as propriety was concerned, fingers running up and down the V front of my dress, caressing my exposed skin, hand slipping under the fabric to cup my right breast, letting out a frustrated groan because my nipple was hidden beneath the pastie. There was no privacy screen, and I gave up caring that the driver might see, or that he might crash while staring at our antics, instead pulling Tom into a kiss, his mouth tasting of whiskey and ale. Making out was enough of a distraction to get us home without actually exposing ourselves, and when we arrived he ran up the stairs to our flat, taking them two at a time, waited for me for ten seconds, then ran back down, then back up, over and over until I managed to successfully navigate my way to the landing in my stupid heels. His hands were shaking so badly he couldn’t get the key in the door, so I took over, and he pushed me inside as it opened, turned me left into the kitchen, then pressed me up against the counter overlooking the living room. I felt his hands lifting my dress, then on my lower back as he guided me to lean forward. Next were his thumbs inside the waistband of my underwear, rolling them down to my ankles. I heard him unzip, and I moved my legs as far apart as they could go, groaning as the head of him brushed against me before he thrust himself forward and home. It was quick and dirty, his hips rolling as his cock worked its way in and out, faster and faster until I came with a gasp and he followed, whimpering softly, then collapsing on top of me. Several minutes passed and just as I began to entertain the thought that he was out cold he whispered in my ear, voice lacking its usual resonance.

“I’m so sleepy. Will you tuck me in?”

“Yep. You’ve gotta get off me first, though.”

“Ohhhh. That’s right. I’m sorry.” I felt his weight lifting, then disappearing completely. I turned around to find him staring at me, eyes moist. “You’re beautiful.”

I snorted, then bent to remove my shoes so I could slip out of my underwear. “Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.”

He turned me around slowly, unzipped my dress, then slid it off my shoulders and allowed it to fall to the floor. I rotated to face him, and he pulled me into an embrace and nuzzled my neck.

“Wife.”

“Soon.”

“Since I saw you.”

I inhaled sharply. “Thomas.”

“Love you.”

“I love you too, baby. Let’s go upstairs, okay?”

“M’kay.”

I made him go first, just in case. Not that I’d have been able to catch him if anything happened, but it made me feel better. I helped him undress, then tucked him in, as requested, kissing him goodnight before I headed off to shower. The pasties came off rather quickly, the makeup, not so much. Especially the glitter gloss, which made me grateful I didn’t have to deal with such shit on a daily basis. I toweled off, used the toilet one last time, then crawled in next to Tom. He rolled over, muttering something I couldn’t quite decipher as he wrapped his arm around me, hand cupping my breast. My eyes closed as his warmth enveloped me, and I dozed off trying to count how many days remained until June 29th.

****************************************

We spent the weekend recovering, just the two of us, heading out for food periodically but otherwise just enjoying…being. Time felt like the enemy, and even though I tried to ignore it, my brain kept counting of the days we had left before his flight to Australia. Monday I was back in the office, working on marketing materials for the app and testing the customer management systems with Trudy. The rest of the staff picked up any slack left by Luke and Simon’s absence, their duties relatively minimal as our client base had been made aware of the wedding and honeymoon schedule well in advance. Tuesday and Wednesday were more of the same, with the additional tasks of contacting all the beta testers to request their reviews and creating an instructional video to post on the main website. Thursday was freak-out day, as it was my last official day of work prior to launch, and the last night I’d be sharing a bed with Tom for more than two weeks. Seventeen days, to be precise.

Dinner was delivery pizza, followed by ice cream sundaes for dessert. Afterward, I helped him pack, and the strangeness of assisting the person I had grown so used to and loved having so close to me prepare to be so far away melted my brain a little. We showered, then attempted to sleep, but spent most of the night making love or simply staring at each other, as if committing as much detail as we could to memory so we’d have it as a touchstone while we were apart.

Friday morning we were out the door and into a waiting cab by ten AM in order to arrive at Heathrow in plenty of time for his twelve forty-five PM flight. It would be a long one, twenty-five hours at minimum, during which I hoped he’d get some rest. Brisbane awaited, and there’d be staff housing as well as opportunities to visit the Hemsworths in Byron Bay. Jordan had chosen the Gold Coast to film, Queensland offering savannah-like settings as well as a tropical rainforest.

Both of us were silent on the ride, holding hands, his thumb rubbing my wrist. We’d agreed to say our goodbyes just inside the main entrance, with me then returning to the cab and heading home while he checked in and went through security. The cab driver helped unload his baggage, then drove off to circle around until our paths coincided again, at which point he’d pick me up.

I felt like I was going to puke at the sight of the gates, which made me wonder if this was going to become a ‘thing’…me stress-barfing at airports. Tom set the backpack he’d slung over his shoulder on the floor next to the rest of his luggage, then turned to me.

“Well. Guess this is it, then.” He ran one hand through is hair. “Not sure I can do this, Maude.”

I reached out to touch his arm, reveling in the feel of his long blue coat. “Yes you can. It’s okay. It’s going to be fine. Seventeen days and you’ll be picking my ass up in Brisbane. No big deal.” His hand caressed my cheek, and I burst into tears. “Shit. I told myself I wasn’t going to cry, and now I’m crying. Epic fail. I’m sorry.”

He pulled me into his arms, one hand on the back of my head pressing me to his chest. “Don’t you be sorry. I’m the one who should be sorry. I’m the one who has to leave.”

I leaned backwards so I could see his face, noticing that he was trying to hold back his own tears but was losing the battle, one already spilling over and running down his cheek. “No, I am. I’m the one who has to STAY.”

We clung to each other, weeping quietly, until we both breathed deeply, knowing it was time to let go, whether we liked it or not. I wiped away my tears with the back of my hand. “All right. I need to get the fuck out of here before I wind up throwing myself on the floor and wrapping my arms around your leg like a ball and chain.”

He laughed, then bent to kiss me…long, slow, deliberate and full of everything we couldn’t say. He broke away first, taking my hands in his.

“I am going to miss you like I’ve never missed anything ever before in my life. But we’ll text, we’ll call, we’ll Skype, and I’ll be busy and you’ll be busy and the days will pass and you’ll be back in my arms again in the blink of an eye.”

I nodded and let go of his hands. “It’ll all be okay. I know. You know. It doesn’t make it suck any less, but it’ll be okay. Stay safe, Hiddleston. I love you. Heart and soul.”

He smiled, red-rimmed eyes displaying a glimmer of hope, and joy. “I love you too, Maude. Heart and soul. I’ll see you soon. Good luck with the launch, and the show.”

“Tell Kong I said hello. And, you know, everyone else, too.”

“I shall.”

With that, he gathered up his luggage, returned the backpack to his shoulder, then turned away from me and began to walk down the hall. I waited for a moment, staring at him, and he spun around quickly, waved, then turned back around and kept going, and I turned myself and half-jogged out to the curb, choking back seemingly endless sobs as I waited for the cab that would bring me back to our flat. Our flat, with just me in it. Alone.

#your light in the mist #chapter 40

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avaruussade · 6 years

Text

Did the Hero of Kazakhstan kidnap the Russian Fairy’s heart after all?

written for @otayuriwriterscollective olympics week

sun feb 11: interviews/media coverage OR celebration/party

T-rated, 2.8K words

huge thanks to @bekasstar for being my second pair of eyes (and letting me use not only her real twitter handle but the sideblog url as well AND discussing this idea with me and just existing in general ♡)

Read on AO3

“Beka, look, you need to see this.” Otabek leaves his suitcase open on the floor and sits next to Yuri who’s lying on his stomach on the hotel bed. (He has been there the whole time Otabek has tried to unpack his suitcase and settle down in the room, his own suitcase abandoned near the door - Yuri said he would go and check his own room later even though they both know he isn’t going to spend too much time there.) Otabek leans in and reads over Yuri’s shoulder a Twitter thread the Russian skater has open on his phone.

Yuri’s Angels @yurisangels_official・20 min Yuri was seen hugging Otabek Altin of Kazakhstan outside their hotel today. Olympic Athletes from Russia (OAR) arrived to Pyeongchang yesterday evening, Team Kazakhstan early today. welcome to the madness @datyurifanboy・19 min @yurisangels_official such a shame Yuri can’t properly represent his country tho… but also @vilmahenriika look at this shit always sleepy @vilmahenriika・18 min @datyurifanboy @yurisangels_official holy fuck my Otayuri Senses™ are tingling it was like 5am in Korea when Otabek got there?? Maybe in next olympics Yuri’s gonna represent Kazakhstan ;)) jkjk Yuri’s Angels @yurisangels_official・16 min @datyurifanboy @vilmahenriika I heard they hugged for a really long time outside the hotel, and then went inside together. And that Yuri was looking happy af. Also we haven’t seen Yuri in Team Kazakhstan jacket… yet. always sleepy @vilmahenriika・15 min @yurisangels_official i’d die if that happened also @smilejongdw you need to see this!! Chel @smilejongdw・14 min @vilmahenriika @yurisangels_official HOLY FUCK Yuri’s Angels @yurisangels_official・14 min @smilejongdw @vilmahenriika There’s a week to go before the games start, we have our fingers crossed for Instagram updates! And reports from people who might see them around & in practice! WA @figureskating-guy・12 min @yurisangels_official @vilmahenriika @smilejongdw You guys need to chill. I mean, Yuri and Otabek are friends. They haven’t seen each other since the GPF. Ofc they’re happy. always sleepy @vilmahenriika・10 min @figureskating-guy let a girl have her fun lmao “Are you pissed you can’t represent Russia?” Yuri stares at Otabek for a couple of silent seconds, and then rolls his eyes. “Is that really the first thing that came to your mind after reading all that?” “I’m just curious,” Otabek shrugs, but he knows Yuri has noticed the hint of a smile trying to tug his lips upwards. “I’m pissed those doping assholes have the guts to call themselves athletes”, Yuri says, frowning in disgust. Then his face settles in something more serious. “All I care about is skating, really.” For some time it had looked like Yuri wouldn’t even be able to compete in Olympics despite getting silver in the Grand Prix final and winning Nationals less than two months before. When Yuri had gotten the permission to skate under OAR, he had called Otabek and cried tears of relief. After all, it’s their first Olympics, and going there together had been their dream. “So your fans looking for evidence of us dating isn’t something you care about?” Otabek is smirking now, but his smile falters when he sees the excited glint in Yuri’s eyes. “I want to talk about that.” “Yura, I told you - after Olympics.” The two of them had jumped from the friendship stage to something entirely different during Yuri’s exhibition skate in the Grand Prix final held in Barcelona, just three days after their reunion. (Otabek prefers to call it a meeting instead of a reunion because Yuri didn’t even remember him back then, but Yuri tells him reunion sounds better.) On most days they had been best friends, but then there had been moments when neither of them could say were they friends or something more. They openly cheered for each other during competitions despite being each other’s biggest rivals. When they met in and outside of competitions - skating, walking around in different cities, or having sleepovers at the other boy’s house during off-season - there had been long looks and lingering touches. Looks and touches the media and their fanbases had started to notice after a while, as well. After reading the third online article (titled Did the Hero of Kazakhstan kidnap the Russian Fairy’s heart after all?) scrutinizing every little detail in how long they had hugged after a medal ceremony, Otabek had grown tired of all the conspiracy theories: he had brought the topic up with Yuri in Skype. He didn’t expect their conversation to end with Yuri confessing he had feelings for Otabek; feelings Otabek shared. It’s been a year since that Skype conversation, and they had agreed on being just best friends in the public eye. If Otabek is being honest, he isn’t surprised Yuri wants everyone to know already - he’s impatient, has always been. “Don’t you think this would be a perfect opportunity to let the world know?” Yuri asks, sitting up. He puts his hands on Otabek’s shoulders, a happy grin on his face. “I think we should wait until the games are over. I don’t want it to affect the results.” “As if it would.” “You never know,” Otabek says with a shrug, and Yuri sighs in defeat. He picks his phone up, the Twitter thread still open on the screen. “Also I love reading the theories your fans come up with.” “Your fans contribute in them, too.” “What if,” Otabek says, holding his hands up in defence when Yuri’s eyes start to sparkle again, trying to keep the blond’s hopes from shooting too high up. “What if we just had fun now, and thought about this when the games are over.” *** The days before the opening ceremony are busy for both of them: they’re training on and off ice while trying to get used to the time difference and learning to navigate in the huge Olympic village. Their coaches are trying their best to keep them healthy and in good condition before the games start: they aren’t allowed on the ice too much, and staying up late to have a stroll around the city is strictly prohibited as well. Otabek wants the competition to start already, while Yuri can’t wait for everything to be over. “Let’s take a pic!” Yuri demands when they leave the hotel on the night of the opening ceremony. They are both dressed up in their respective uniforms: Yuri in grey and white, Otabek in the colors of Kazakhstan. He doesn’t feel comfortable in the bright colors, especially next to Yuri’s more neutral attire. It takes a moment before they find a spot with lighting good enough for Yuri’s standards. Yuri switches to the front camera of his phone and raises the device up, gesturing Otabek to come closer so they both fit in the frame. Otabek laughs and wraps an arm around Yuri’s waist, showing a thumbs up to the camera with his other hand. As always, Yuri snaps dozen pictures just in case (he’s really serious about his Instagram feed - a thing Otabek has never really understood, but he respects his boyfriend’s devotion). Otabek grows tired of posing after five shots, and in the last one he’s stealing a glance of a happily laughing Yuri, a soft smile and a gentle blush on his face. “I’m gonna upload this one, too,” Yuri says when he sees the last picture on his camera roll. “No, you are not.” “Yeah, I am. You look good in it.” “I look like I’m in love, Yuri.” “Exactly.” * Yuri’s Angels @yurisangels_official・4 min Yuri updated his Instagram! “yuri-plisetsky: Ready for the opening ceremony! With @otabek-altin” [2 pictures attached] OLYMPICS HYPE @itsviktorwithak・3 min @yurisangels_official okay but does Otabek have an arm around Yuri’s waist?? Yuri’s Angels @yurisangels_official・3 min @itsviktorwithak It seems so, yes! C; OLYMPICS HYPE @itsviktorwithak・2 min @yurisangels_official holy fuck OLYMPICS HYPE @itsviktorwithak・2 min @yurisangels_official ppl are going crazy in the comments omg Beka’s quad salchow @otabeks_devil・2 min @itsviktorwithak @yurisangels_official Well, the way Otabek looks at Yuri in that 2nd pic… my gf looks at me like that go team japan!! @loveonice・1 min @otabeks_devil @itsviktorwithak @yurisangels_official I wonder when’s the wedding lolol *** Neither of them takes part in the Team events, so after the opening ceremony is over, they have a week before they can hit the ice for real. They try to kill time in different ways: they go watch the Team events held in Gangneung Ice Arena, have a jog around the Olympic village when the sun sets behind the tall hotel buildings, and skate as much as their coaches let them. Otabek cherishes the mornings during that week. He often wakes up before Yuri and pulls him closer to his chest, listening to their hearts sharing a rhythm. It’s quiet and peaceful, something the two of them haven’t been given a chance to enjoy. Otabek knows that when their turns to skate in front of the judges come, Yuri wants to sleep in his own bed. He says it keeps him focused, and Otabek understands (but he’s still happy they will get their results after only two days on the ice, and that no matter what happens they will be sharing a bed again when they’re done with the free skating). So on the morning of the short program Otabek wakes up alone, his head hurting from lack of sleep. He’s feeling slightly disoriented, and scrolling through his Twitter mentions and Instagram comments doesn’t make his mood any better. People are cheering him on and sending messages of good luck, but all Otabek wants is to see Yuri. He still isn’t an asshole though: he likes some comments and tweets, and then types a short message thanking everyone for the support before getting out of bed. Both of them are scheduled to skate in the last group: Otabek starting the group, Yuri getting his turn right after him. It’s an honor to be part of the very last group, but it also means they have a lot of time in their hands after the first group finally gets on the ice. “Nervous?” Yuri asks when he sits next to Otabek in the warm-up area. He has already changed in his short program costume, an OAR jersey over it. Otabek shoots him a small smile, brushing his fingertips quickly against the back of Yuri’s hand when no one can see. “Not anymore,” he says, truthfully. He takes one earphone out and turns the volume of his music down. “You?” “A little. I couldn’t really sleep last night.” “Me neither.” Yuri sighs and rests his head on Otabek’s shoulder, closing his eyes. His long lashes create fans over his cheeks, dark with mascara. “Can I sleep in your bed tonight?” “Are you sure? Free’s tomorrow.” “I’m sure,” Yuri whispers, raising his head to give a shy smile to Otabek. It takes all of Otabek’s willpower not to pull Yuri into a kiss, but the camera crew walking around shooting material to show in live coverages during ice maintenance stops him; so he just nods, and Yuri understands. * Yuri’s Angels @yurisangels_official・2 min Yuri’s getting ready for his short program in the warm-up area! He can be seen in the background with Otabek Altin during Phichit Chulanont’s interview. [1 picture attached] Need me a man like Beka @otabekskitten・2 min @yurisangels_official is yuri’s head… on beka’s shoulder… Yuri’s Angels @yurisangels_official・1 min @otabekskitten Yes!!! And then he raises his head and smiles, looking like an angel!! Need me a man like Beka @otabekskitten・1 min @yurisangels_official i’m not sure should i be screaming or crying Bless Chris @giacomettisbutt・1 min @otabekskitten @yurisangels_official WHY NOT BOTH *** Both of them are again in the last starting group for the free skate, but this time neither of them are tired or nervous. Yuri is third to last to skate, just before Otabek - their point difference is 0.08, and Otabek has already accepted the fact that Yuri will snatch silver from him. He isn’t angry about it. Otabek gets the front seat for Yuri’s free program, standing on the side of the rink. He barely hears the announcer over the deafening boom of cheers when Yuri makes his way to the center of the ice, his face serious. “Yuri! Davai!” Otabek yells over the commotion, loud enough for Yuri to raise his eyes and give him a thumbs up. When Yuri settles in his starting pose and lowers his gaze, there’s a small smile on his lips. Yuri’s skating is beautiful to watch, as always: most of his jumps are in the second part of his program, and the choreographic sequence he starts with is delicate, setting an eerie mood in the whole arena. Not many other skaters in men singles share his flexibility - his Biellmann position is deep, and his spins are fast. He jumps with both of his arms raised, and even though one of his landings ends up a little shaky, he finishes with a flawless program. A happy smile spreads on his face when the music stops, and he bows to the cheering audience shining brighter than the rhinestones in his black costume. Otabek watches how Yuri picks up a huge tiger plushie from the ice on his way out and accepts Yakov’s warm hug. Otabek’s own chest is almost bursting with pride when he takes his blade guards off and hands them to his own coach, giving him a confident nod. He’s about to step on the ice when there’s a weight against him, thin arms wrapped around his shoulders. “Davai, Beka,” Yuri whispers in his ear before letting go, Yakov’s cursing making him hurry to the Kiss & Cry. * Yuri’s Biellmann @otayuri3113・4 min DID YOU GUYS SEE THAT talk otayuri to me @yurabeka・4 min @otayuri3113 YURI JUST?? HUGGED OTABEK AND SAID SOMETHING TO HIM?? Yuri’s Biellmann @otayuri3113・3 min @yurabeka EXACTLY??? And Yakov looked so pissed oh my god I love Yuri talk otayuri to me @yurabeka・3 min @otayuri3113 And I know this one Kazakh skater who probably shares your feelings omfg Yuri’s Angels @yurisangels_official・2 min Yuri’s scores for his Free are 222.18, and he’s currently in the first place! Two skaters to go: Kazakhstan’s Otabek Altin and Canada’s Jean-Jacques Leroy. *** Yuri’s unusual way of wishing Otabek good luck makes the headlines, but he doesn’t seem to mind as long as the articles remember to mention they are also the silver and bronze medalists. Otabek wants to lecture Yuri and remind him he promised to wait until the games are over before announcing his undying love for Otabek. But Otabek just can’t get angry at Yuri. That’s what he tells Mila when she asks him about it. They’re sitting in the audience of the ice arena, a day after men’s free program, halfway through short dance. It’s time for ice maintenance, people in the audience scrolling on their phones or huddling closer to each other to stay warm. The big screens over the ice are showing Korean adverts between recaps of yesterday’s free program. “You should, he could have ruined your concentration! There are already people saying he was trying to sabotage your skate.” “I would never try to do that,” Yuri defends himself from his seat on Otabek’s other side. “I dunno, you were behind Otabek after short…” “Yeah, 0.08 points.” “I’m just telling you what I’ve read,” Mila shrugs, getting an eye roll from her rinkmate. “Did I ruin your concentration yesterday?” Yuri turns to ask Otabek, challenge in his eyes. “You didn’t, but I’m not encouraging you to do that again.” “Yeah, only because you’re afraid I might give you a boner before you go-” “Yura, they have us on the screen.” Yuri looks up at the screens hanging on the ceiling and finds out Otabek wasn’t saying that just to get him distracted. People in the arena around them are already clapping, congratulating them both for their medals. Yuri blinks, taken aback by the attention he’s suddenly receiving, and Otabek placing his cool hands on each side of his face and kissing him doesn’t really help. Yuri kisses back without thinking, a slow smile spreading on his lips when he hears Mila gasping somewhere on Otabek’s right. “I thought-,” Yuri mumbles when they break the kiss, a violent blush climbing on his face as the members of the audience whistle and scream. “I thought you said after the games.” “Well, aren’t we technically done with them already?” * Yuri’s Angels @yurisangels_official・5 min Yuri just tweeted and confirmed that the kiss seen during Ice Dance break wasn’t staged!! “@yuri-plisetsky: when your boyfriend kisses you in front of way too many people smh I’ve fallen for a total loser.” Yuri’s Angels @yurisangels_official・4 min Congratulations, @yuri-plisetsky and @otabek-altin!! Chel @smilejongdw・2 min @yurisangels_official i can now die happy always sleepy @vilmahenriika・2 min @yurisangels_official @smilejongdw TT<3

i don’t know what athletes really do during olympics when they aren’t competing and i’m fully aware the skaters probably aren’t allowed to interact with each other between their skates like that but let’s call this artistic freedom.

buy me a coffee?

#otayuri #fanfiction #otayuriolympics

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