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sunwoo-hoo · 3 years

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↣ the boyz reaction to girlfriend being on her period

↳ a/n: hello lovelies! here it is, my first reaction for the boyz! i honestly feel like this is a continuation to my ‘as your boyfriend’ series. so in each scenario the s/o is already in a relationship with each member. thank you for requesting this anon! i hope you enjoy it. also some of these are a mix of headcanons/scenarios. do not interact if you are under the age of 18.

↳ genre: fluff, light smut?? & humor

↳ requested? yes

↳ send me your requests here!

↳ word count: 1.5k

↳ the boyz x fem reader

「 Lee Sangyeon 」

you were stressed from work having to work overtime so you didn’t even notice you had your period until sangyeon pointed it out before you had to leave

“darling, i think you’ve started your period” he pointed taking a picture of your jeans to show you

you groaned having to deal with one more stressful thing this week

sangyeon rubbed your lower back trying to comfort you

“how about you call in sick?” he asked as you nodded

he’s very sweet giving you anything you need weather its water or adjusting your pillows because of lower back pain

giving you lots of temple kisses

「 Jacob Bae 」

he already knows when your period is going to start having downloaded your period tracking app on his phone

always making sure your fully stocked up on pads and tampons before the day it’s suppose to start

even getting you your favorite snacks that aren’t healthy for you

he just wants to ease the experience as much as possible

when it finally does start he’s rubbing your lower belly kissing your cheek giving you all the praise

“i know it sucks babe, but it’ll be over soon i promise” he murmured

「 Kim Younghoon 」

you period started unexpectedly when you two were watching a movie late at night

you had gotten up to get more popcorn when he noticed the stain on the couch

younghoon called out to you

“sweetheart, are you okay? you’re bleeding” he declared

you quickly went to the bathroom to check and lo and behold he was right

the worst part was that you were in the dorms and they didn’t have any pads or tampons in sight

younghoon noticed your discomfort and quickly went to the 24/7 convenience store getting everything you needed

when he finally came back you asked why it took him so long

he then opened the bag where you saw every brand and size imaginable

“i didn’t know which one you used... so i kind of just bought all of them” he said rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly

you giggled thanking him giving him a small peck on the lips

「 Lee Hyunjae 」

when your period started he was a bit annoyed

mostly because you two couldn’t have sex like you always do

but nevertheless he was caring and respectful

he pretty much gave you everything you needed whether it was medicine for your cramps or something sweet to eat like chocolate

one of your most painful symptoms was your sore breasts

he always offered to rub them but you couldn’t deny the smug look you saw on his face

“don’t worry baby i’ll make you feel better okay?” he said

he starts to rub them in hopes of helping you but eventually he can’t help but suck on your nipple rubbing your other breast with his right hand

your then moaning from pleasure and pain running your fingers through his hair

「 Lee Juyeon 」

juyeon always hated when your period started

one your symptoms was not wanting to be touched so it made him feel very distant from you

even though he wants to be close and cuddle with you he’ll try his hardest giving you space

but it breaks your heart to see him upset so you’ll tell him to cuddle with you regardless of your pain

he’ll lay by you but will try his best not to touch you so that he could respect your boundaries

you grab his hand giving the back of it small kisses thanking him

“i appreciate you being here with me” you whispered

“of course baby, you know i’m always here for you” he promised

「 Kevin Moon 」

you were always a tad bit more emotional when your period started

crying over every little thing

kevin was sympathetic offering anything to tell help you

giving you tissues when you needed it

he tried his best to lift your spirits up playing your favorite songs on his piano

“how can you cry to pharrell williams song happy?” he lightly teased trying to change the shift in mood

wiping your eyes you replied “i don’t know! this sucks! i just want this to be over with already” you snapped

all he could do was wait it out until it was over

during the week he’ll do anything to keep your emotions in check giving you cuddles and kisses

「 Choi Chanhee 」

he’s honestly a bit disgusted by it all but he knows it’s not your fault since it’s just a part of nature

you always tend to break out during your period making you feel really insecure

so you and chanhee end up doing face masks together to keep them at bay

he’s also treating you like a princess

getting everything you can possibly need to make your week smoother

like making sure the heating pad is on so that you can use it whenever you need it

“here love, sit down for a bit, i don’t want you moving a muscle” he insisted

「 Ji Changmin/Q 」

having two older sisters he saw the signs before you did telling you not to overwork yourself

when your period finally appeared you were in constant pain barely even moving

curled up on the bed tightly holding onto the sheets changmin was beside you rubbing your head giving it a kiss

“don’t worry sweetie i’ll get you anything you want okay?”

over the next week he was always keeping tabs on you making sure you had everything you needed

he always made sure to ask if you had extra pads/tampons before you went out to avoid accidents

you couldn’t have been more thankful for him

「 Juhaknyeon 」

you always knew when your period was about to start because you always had trouble sleeping a few days prior

one particular night you and juhaknyeon were sleeping together when you kept tossing and turning

you decided to get up to get a snack feeling a slight tingle in your lower abdomen

sitting on the kitchen island you nearly jumped when you felt juhaknyeon’s arms around you

“you okay baby? i was worried when you weren’t in bed” he said

you smiled softly “yeah.. it’s just i think i’m getting my period soon”

“aw, well you know i’ll be here for whatever you need” he reassured kissing your neck

moving your neck to the side so that he could have better access

is when you felt it, that familiar feeling of wetness in your panties

you then stopped him giving him an apologetic look before he joked

“damn, what a buzzkill”

「 Kim Sunwoo 」

fuck fuck fuck you thought as you looked at your period calendar

you were late

for the most part you were pretty careful when it came to sex with sunwoo but he just couldn’t help but cum in you sometimes

you always made sure to get the plan b pill the next day

but you were thinking a couple of weeks back

did you take it like you were suppose to?

you decided to tell sunwoo the minute he came home from practice

as he walked in through the front door he gave you the biggest of smiles finally seeing the person he loved most in the world

you gave him a worried look before you told him that you needed to talk

“sunwoo... my period, it’s late i-i don’t know why we’re usually safe..” you rambled practically on the verge of tears

his face turned serious grabbing your hands

“let’s go get a test okay? just to be sure” he whispered

once you got the pregnancy test you waited anxiously for the results sunwoo’s hand in yours

“baby i just want you to know that if it’s positive you know i’ll be there for you no matter what, i love you and a positive test won’t change that” he assured you pulling you close giving you a kiss on your forehead

when the test turned out to be negative you couldn’t help but notice sunwoo’s disappointment

a couple of days later your period finally came

「 Eric Sohn 」

usually your energy matched his but when he noticed you were feeling down and sleeping more than usual he was confused

it wasn’t until you told that him that you were on your period he finally realized

he’s definitely calling his mom asking how he could help you in any way he can since he’s not familiar with it

even getting advice from the older members

he’s then giving you everything you need

tea, water, heating pads and a fan since you were sweating

“do you have everything you need babe?” he asked as you nodded padding the bed so that he could lay next to you

he put his arm over you whispering

“goodnight [name], i love you i’ll be right here if you need anything okay?”

you hummed before drifting off to sleep in eric’s arms

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* © sunwoo-hoo 2 0 2 1 ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

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everwitch-magiks · 3 years

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dance with somebody (ch. 26/26)

start from ch. 1 | back to ch. 25

Throughout his five years in professional hockey, Connor Whisk has been called a great many things.

During his rookie season with the Pittsburgh Penguins, the adjective most frequently used by ESPN was promising. (Editor’s note: we’ve counted. Yes, we’re nerds.) However, soon after Whisk’s abrupt trade to the newly minted Seattle Kraken, sensational and unprecedented quickly started climbing the charts. It truly seemed like Whisk had found himself perfectly at home as a rising star on a young and fiercely untamed NHL expansion team, full of players with nothing to lose, yet so much to prove.

At least, that was the way things appeared.

Whisk suggests meeting at a quiet coffee place in Pioneer Square. He’s already waiting outside when I arrive (and it should be noted that I'm at least ten minutes early). Whisk's handshake is firm, his shirt is completely lacking in wrinkles without a single button undone, and there's something carefully proper in his manners as we exchange pleasantries and order coffee.

We don't have an abundance of time, which is why I get right into it almost before we're seated. What’s his opinion on the current standings? If the Kraken do make the playoffs again, like most experts have assumed, what will be their strategy for staying in the game longer, this time? And what’s changed for the Kraken, during these last couple of seasons, that have enabled them to become such a force to be reckoned with so soon after the team’s very foundation?

Whisk, who isn't necessarily known for taking pleasure in excessive attention from the media, seems surprisingly at ease with my onslaught of questions.

“We’ve worked really hard as a team to get to this point, slowly but surely. It may look like a sudden breakthrough from an outside perspective, I guess, but that’s very far from how we’ve experienced it. Although, I’ll be the first to admit that those first couple of seasons in Seattle were tough. Extremely tough. We were fighting so hard every single day, trying to get some semblance of proper teamwork, trying to get our plays to work, get anything to work, really. A lot of the guys were rookies, and many of us who weren’t had been pretty shocked by our trades. We did alright, for a new team, but we all knew that we should be doing better. That was the thing, really – we all felt that we could be so much more. Maybe, if we had believed that a little bit less, things might not have felt so hopeless at the time.”

Whisk speaks with a familiarly serious expression. Some of my fellow sports journalists have pronounced him subdued, and stiff, and on one memorable occasion, unemotional. Yet as we continue to chat about his teammates over a second cup of coffee, and Whisk goes into detail about what the Kraken’s recent achievements have meant for each of them, those descriptors couldn’t be further from the picture Whisk paints. Connor Whisk is clearly compassionate. Effortlessly earnest. Irresistibly determined.

"Last season, when we made it to the playoffs for the first time, that was such an important milestone. It proved to us that we’d had it right, all along. That as a team, we could be capable of anything. And I think, especially for the older guys who’d uprooted the lives of their families after their trades, getting that recognition from the whole league was so important. It’s definitely helped us feel like we have every reason to go into each game with that much more confidence, this season. Our plays are bigger, bolder and braver, and it’s really been paying off. This year, the goal is to make sure that energy lasts us not only all the way to the playoffs, but much further beyond.”

Whisk speaks about his teammates with both respect and compassion. It’s really quite obvious just how he's earned himself the title of Assistant Captain. And on the subject of leadership – is there any truth to the retirement rumours surrounding the Kraken’s current Captain, Donald “Ducky” Rodriguez? And would Connor Whisk agree with the consensus among both supporters and sports media, that he is practically guaranteed to inherit the title?

It's the first time since the start of our conversation that I find a certain amount of evasiveness in Whisk's answer.

"It's difficult to say. Every player has their own journey, and I can't speak for Ducky when it comes to his thoughts on possible retirement. As for my own feelings on the subject, I'd prefer it if Ducky just stayed in the game forever." Whisk laughs. "Really, I would. Ducky probably wouldn't have described his trade from the Aeros to the Kraken as the best thing that ever happened to him, back when it all went down, but it was honestly one of the best things that could've happened to me. I had looked up to Ducky for a long time, and having such an experienced player join us made an enormous difference for a lot of us who were relatively new to the game. We've had a great run together in Seattle, and I know Ducky has talked at length about how rewarding it's been for him to captain this team, especially at this point in his career. And honestly, I can't even really think about what might happen after his eventual retirement. I just can't. I guess I'm just trying to focus on the now, one game at a time, until the end of this season. That's as far as I'm allowing myself to think."

Of course, on the subject of the Houston Aeros, I must ask about the rumour that seems to circle back around every so often without ever being properly addressed. It's time we all knew, once and for all. Did Connor Whisk, during his time as a free agent, really decline an offer from the Houston Aeros? If so, when? And, perhaps most importantly, why?

"No, I did." Avid Aeros supporters will be pleased to know that Whisk has the decency to look quite apologetic. "It was during my time in the NCAA. I found it a very interesting offer, but ultimately, it just wasn't the right time for me. I'm sure it would've been a journey that was rewarding in other ways than the path I'm on, now. But sometimes, you've got to go with your heart, and my heart was very much still in Massachusetts with the Samwell team. I was very lucky to be able to make that decision and still have such great opportunities to play professionally after graduation. That was never something I took for granted, when I made that call."

Before we run out of coffee, and more importantly out of time, I remember to ask about Whisk’s tattoos. As frequent readers of Sports Illustrated will be well aware, he has two, both on his upper right arm. According to my quite extensive knowledge of Whisk’s frankly limited media appearances, he has never once commented on them.

Evidently, they're not some big secret. Whisk readily rolls up his sleeve.

“The first one, got your back, is a saying from my college hockey team. It’s about always looking out for your teammates on and off the ice. My time on the Samwell team really meant a lot to me, I was fortunate enough to play alongside incredible NCAA players like Eric Bittle, Will Poindexter and Nathan Piper. I learned so much, both about hockey and about myself. A lot of the guys actually got the exact same tattoo at some point, without any of us really talking about it. It caused a bit of unintended comedy at our last reunion.”

The second tattoo, know where we stand, is placed just a few inches below the first.

“That one is more personal. It's about having trust and faith in those I love, about making sure they always know how much they mean to me. I'm a somewhat private person, I guess, but anyone close to me could tell you that it's very important for me to make sure that my feelings are known.”

Private is certainly a word that comes to mind. Whisk doesn't agree to many interviews, and his fans have long given up hope of getting more than one or two TV appearances per season, post-game interviews not included. He's on Twitter, as is the whole Kraken rooster, but his activity is mostly limited to retweets of various sports accounts. His instagram feed? Almost exclusively pictures of his aquarium.

At the mention of aquatic creatures, Whisk’s expression brightens.

“My housemate actually took this amazing picture of our axolotl a while back, I have to show you. Look at this magnificent queen.”

Somewhere between several anecdotes about Whisk’s certifiably adorable pets, and a tangent about his commitment to supporting organisations working towards marine conservation, we do finally run out of time. As we say our goodbyes, I’m reminded once again of Whisk’s polite, proper manners, a stark contrast to his somewhat unfeeling reputation. But if one thing’s for certain, it’s that Connor Whisk is anything but unfeeling. He’s reserved, yes, and perhaps somewhat reluctant to put his innermost thoughts and feelings on display. But he’s certainly an impressively focused athlete, one who has proven time and time again to have an admirable commitment to supporting his teammates, on and off the ice.

I can only imagine the regret that must be felt over in Pittsburgh. Seattle, meanwhile, has every reason to celebrate. It’s really something, given how much Whisk has already achieved, that he still gives off the energy of someone who’s got so far to go. The question is, just how far is that going to get him, in the end?

Will he be remembered only as a key factor in the foundation of Seattle’s so-far successful expansion endeavour, or could he be a true star player in the making, one on the verge of creating a legacy that will last well beyond a time and a place?

Only time will tell.

Whiskey lets the door fall shut behind him. He takes a deep, steadying breath.

There’s a familiar suitcase that’s been left right in the hallway. Whiskey quickly toes off his shoes and walks past it. Ah, there’s a t-shirt. And a bit further, a pair of jeans. Then socks.

Whiskey follows the enticing trail of clothes into the living room. He passes by the mantelpiece, where his Samwell Men's Hockey Captain's plaque sits right in the center, with his Art Ross Trophy from last season over on the side.

Out in the kitchen, he finds a pair of boxer briefs. The double doors out to the patio are wide open. Whiskey eagerly steps through them, his feet quickly carrying him across the patio, over to-

Yes.

Oh, yes. Finally.

Miguel breaks through the surface of the water just as Whiskey makes it to the side of the pool. Immediately, Miguel offers him a wide smile. He looks so perfectly relaxed, back in his pool, in their home. In the nude.

God, he’s so beautiful.

“Water’s warm,” Miguel greets him softly. He trails his fingertips across the surface of it, almost like he’s reacquainting himself with how it feels. “Much more pleasant than the Atlantic, let me tell you.”

“I’ll take that as an invitation.”

“Oh, please. Come here.” Miguel’s tone turns impatient as Whiskey pulls off his shirt, only to take a moment to fold it. “Fuck, just, come here. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too. So much.”

Whiskey willingly abandons his attempts to keep his clothes from getting wrinkles. He makes quick work of his pants and underwear, before he lets himself slip into the water. Immediately, he gathers Miguel up in his arms.

It’s not a languid kiss, by any means. Being separated for eight fucking weeks will do that to you. Miguel kisses Whiskey like he’s been trying to breathe underwater for months, like Whiskey is his fresh gulp of oxygen, his moment of clarity. He kisses Whiskey like Whiskey is his very reason for breathing.

Which is almost funny, given that Miguel has been doing quite a bit of breathing underwater, lately.

“Did you get bulkier?” Miguel murmurs against Whiskey's bare skin. He’s trailing his fingertips along Whiskey’s forearms. “You’re kinda firm, here. I like it.”

“Maybe a little.”

Whiskey kisses the top of his head. He lets his hands travel lower, let's his fingertips glide across Miguel's ribcage over the ink that matches Whiskey's own, four little words with so much meaning. He grins as he reaches Miguel's ass and let's his hands come to an abrupt stop. God, it's been much too long.

“S'okay. You're here, now.” Miguel shivers pleasantly from Whiskey’s touches. “Practice run over?”

“No, Angela called me in. She needed me to sign off on the final draft of that article.”

“Sports Illustrated?” Miguel recalls curiously. “How bad was it?”

“Actually, it was… Fine.” Whiskey thinks back on the feature. “Better than I expected. There’s even a couple of paragraphs where that reporter’s made me sound, I don't know. Oddly sweet.”

“You are sweet.” Miguel smiles fondly. “Is it really so bad, if people find out?”

“I suppose not,” Whiskey agrees reluctantly. He lets himself give Miguel's ass another indulgent squeeze. “And they actually included my off-hand mention of my housemate, this time. So that’s something.”

“Good job,” Miguel says with a flushed grin. “Angela must be so pleased.”

Angela Johanson, PR and communications officer for the Seattle Kraken, had indeed been extremely pleased.

Her strategy had really worked for them, so far, which was why Whiskey wasn’t too inclined to argue with it. “If you want to hide anything from those vultures in the media,” Angela had told him during one of his earliest PR briefings, “You’ve got to do it in plain sight.”

Of course, there had been other parts of Angela’s PR strategies that Whiskey had found himself arguing with. Especially during their very first conversation with one another, before he’d had the chance to inform anyone in Seattle of his situation.

It had been right after the trade – hours after, literally. Whiskey was still in Pittsburgh, both physically and mentally. And, fine, Whiskey had maybe already started to realise that Pittsburgh wasn’t completely right for him. It was a very good team, but they were so swamped with talent, and maybe fighting his way to the top of that rooster should’ve been an exciting, motivating challenge, but it wasn’t. It just wasn’t. Whiskey had spent his whole rookie year feeling like he was working against his own team. He had known there was a fair chance that he would get traded. He wasn’t even entirely opposed to the idea.

But Seattle? The Kraken? A team that, for all intents and purposes, didn’t even so much as exist, yet?

“We’re rolling out a whole media package,” Angela had informed him over the phone – as soon as Whiskey’s very first chit-chat with management was over, they’d switched him right over to PR. “There is an enormous amount of buzz right now, given that you guys are the very first players we’re signing. I’ve got some talking points to go over, and then you’re going live on channel four tonight at-”

“Hold on,” Whiskey had cut in. “It’s, I’m not… I don’t usually do many interviews.”

“Oh, you will now.” Angela actually had the audacity to sound cheerful. “We’re right in the middle of establishing our whole brand, and profiling our players in the media is an incredibly important part of that. I’m sure you’ll do just fine.”

“I’m not too interested in being a… A media profile.” Whiskey had tried his best not to panic completely. Really, he had. “I don’t… I’m fairly protective of my private life.”

“Well. You’ll certainly need to share the overall gist of it.” Angela had sounded almost confused. “We need you to be approachable, Connor. Likeable. You’re young, and very handsome, and incredibly talented. We’ve been hoping to have a broad interest in this franchise, all different age groups and so on, and right now, you’re looking a lot like our best bet to attract some real interest from young girls and women. We’re not going to miss that chance.”

“Look," Whiskey had told her flatly. "I’m going to tell you something in confidence, alright? In confidence. This needs to stay between you and me.”

“Okay? Connor, I’m not sure if-”

“I have a boyfriend.”

Angela had been quiet for well over five seconds.

“Oh,” she’d said. To her credit, there had been something like embarrassment in her tone. “I see. Of course, that’s not an issue. Not at all. We’ve done a lot of groundwork about the values of this organisation, Connor, and I want you to know that you’re going to be completely safe with us.”

“Right. Thank you.”

“And,” Angela had added, just a bit hopefully. “If you would choose to be open about that, I can assure you that you would have our full support to-”

“No,” Whiskey had interrupted. “No. I’m not going to.”

“Right.” Angela had paused. “Okay. We’d really be prepared to back you up, you know. It might cause a bit of a media frenzy, and earn us some frankly disgusting press, but we’d be ready to take that on.”

“Yes, a media frenzy sure seems like the last thing on your wishlist.” Whiskey hadn’t bothered to keep his anger out of his voice. “In any case, I’m not going to cause it for you. I’m extremely protective of my private life, and for very good reason. And I’m not going to go live on channel four, today or any other day.”

“Right, okay," Angela had said quickly. "Okay.”

There was a longer moment of silence.

“I hear you.” Angela’s tone had shifted significantly. Somewhere in the background, Whiskey thought he could hear the sound of papers being shuffled around. “I think… Well, won’t need this anymore. Or that. Hm. Let’s see.”

Whiskey managed something of a breath. He was feeling slightly calmer, although honestly not particularly regretful. Really, he’d be more than prepared to fight the Kraken’s entire PR department, if that’s what it took.

“Look.” Angela had apparently found something to say again. “I’ve seen your tapes, Connor.”

Whiskey frowned slightly.

“Okay?”

“You’re very good.” Angela’s tone was quite careful. “Very, very good. I used to play, you know, back in high school. You’re fast, and you play very smart. I’ve heard the way our head coach talks about your technique, and about your adaptability on the ice. Quite frankly, he won’t shut up about you.”

“Is any of this supposed to make me like you better?”

“That’d be nice,” Angela had said calmly, and okay, she was certainly brave. Whiskey had to give her that. “Most importantly, though, you should take me seriously when I say that we’re fully expecting you to be one of the faces of this franchise.”

“On the ice, sure, but that doesn’t-”

“And,” Angela cut in, “That means the media is going to be all over you. Even if you won’t let us schedule you for appearances, they’re going to find something to write about anyway. Really, I’m sure they’d be thrilled to publish all sorts of assumptions and speculation, especially if there’s nothing else out there to contradict them.”

Whiskey wasn’t sure what to say to that.

Angela actually had a point, was the thing.

“I understand the need to keep your professional and private lives separate,” Angela had continued. “And, Connor, I’d really like to help you with that. Because you’re going to need help. If we could work together and figure out a level of public visibility that you could actually be comfortable with, that would definitely keep a lot of so-called journalists from spinning a narrative that we have no control over.”

“Right.” Whiskey hadn’t needed to hesitate much longer. “I understand that. Honestly, I’ve seen the way certain publications go after some of our big names here in Pittsburgh. I’d hate to face something like that without a solid plan for how to handle it.”

“We don’t want you to feel like you’re facing anything on your own, or without a plan.” Angela had sounded quite hopeful once more. “Connor, I… I’m sorry if I came on too strong, just now, and demanded too much from you. We’re genuinely thrilled that you will be joining us in Seattle. I hope that you and I can figure out a media strategy that actually works for you."

“That sounds good.” Surprisingly, Whiskey actually meant it. “I, uh. This is all extremely important to me. I appreciate that you’re making an effort to see my perspective.”

“Of course.” Angela’s tone had been warm. “My job is ultimately about supporting you, you know.”

“Well.” Whiskey had actually smiled. “I suppose I’m glad to have you on the team, then.”

“That’s my line, isn’t it?” Angela had chirped pleasantly. “So. I’m cancelling with channel four. Let’s talk about alternatives for how to make your first impression.”

Whiskey hadn’t quite understood, back then, just how invaluable Angela was going to prove herself during his time in Seattle.

He also would never have guessed that, over a series of meetings where the two of them had drafted contingency plans for various hypothetical scenarios of Whiskey being outed, as well as quite a few bottles of increasingly expensive red wine, he and Angela would actually end up with something not entirely unlike a friendship.

"Angela says hi, by the way," Whiskey tells Miguel presently. They've made it out of the water – except, Miguel's already dived back in. Whiskey has sat himself down on the edge of the pool, content to stick his feet in and just watch Miguel. "She practically demanded that we have her over for dinner, this weekend, when I mentioned you were coming back home."

"Oh, I'd love to see Angela." Miguel dips beneath the surface, just briefly. "You could make those dark chocolate brownies for dessert."

Whiskey smiles.

"You've missed my desserts."

"Come on, try again." Miguel grins. "You're so close."

"Ah. You've missed my chocolate desserts."

Miguel rolls his eyes. He disappears back underwater with a playful splash.

Whiskey smiles softly as he watches Miguel swim down, down towards the bottom of the pool. He still remembers the first time Miguel took him swimming, remembers how his breath hitched at the sight of Miguel moving in the water, his lithe, flexible body completely in control. It was, and honestly still is, the most beautiful thing Whiskey has ever seen.

There's a picture of the two of them that hangs framed in their bedroom. It was taken the summer before last, during a trip they took to see Miguel's family. Miguel is looking at the camera, and his smile is the one that Whiskey loves the most – it's soft and warm and just so lovely. His brown eyes are wonderfully bright in the sunlight. He looks beautiful, and full of life and love. He looks perfect.

In the picture, Whiskey isn't looking at the camera. Instead, he is looking at Miguel. He's smiling, too, and although his smile isn't anywhere near as radiant as Miguel's, it's definitely gentle and content. He looks happy.

They both look happy.

The picture sometimes makes Whiskey wonder what others see, when they look at the two of them. Miguel, so full of energy and life, always bright with excitement and emotion, easily allowing his feelings to flow freely in any direction like a rippling, playful wave, his world a whole sea of excitement. And next to him, Whiskey. So purposeful, and focused, and bold. Always serious and earnest, making every decision with exact precision like he's carving his whole world out of ice.

And yet they come together so perfectly, almost as if they were always meant to find one another.

Miguel breaks through the surface again, with a bigger splash this time.

"I almost forgot," he says, a little breathlessly. "Whiskey. I do actually use Twitter, you know."

Whiskey frowns slightly.

"I don't."

"And as much as I love you, you're not the only account on there." Miguel rolls his eyes. "You Can Play made a pretty interesting announcement, today. Did you see it?"

Ah. Quickly, Whiskey looks away.

"They've received another one of those big donations," Miguel continues. He sounds delighted. "And still no sender, can you believe it? Funny, how this always happens right after you win another big game."

Whiskey ducks his head, grinning. It's only happened a handful of times, that Whiskey has managed to quietly donate a few thousand dollars to You Can Play without Miguel connecting the dots. Ever since that first time, when You Can Play had announced their deepest gratitude to an anonymous donor the very same week that Whiskey had received his signing bonus, and Miguel had immediately texted Whiskey a string of cash emojis and a question mark, it's become something of a game between them.

"Fine. You win this time."

"I win every time." Miguel grins, too. "I guess I should just be grateful that you haven't splurged too much on another ridiculous welcome-home present. I'm still getting over the shock from last time."

"You love the pool," Whiskey reminds him softly. He clears his throat. "I, uh. I might actually have gotten you something."

Miguel stills.

"Please tell me it's something that fits inside the house, this time."

"Well..." Whiskey knows that it's better if he just sticks to his plan of showing Miguel, when he gets the chance. They've been making loose plans for a trip to Boston, anyhow, and Miguel definitely won't mind going back to the New England Aquarium. Especially when he finds out that they'll be attending the opening ceremony for the aquarium's new, privately funded manatee conservation program. "It's not really something you can take home. But I know you're going to love it."

"Okay, mister." Miguel looks a little bit weary. "God, you've got that look in your eyes. I'm getting nervous."

"You'll love it," Whiskey repeats firmly. He smiles. "And, uh, speaking of love. We got a letter from Dex and Nursey, yesterday."

Miguel's eyebrows shoot up.

"A letter? Don't you guys text, like, a lot?"

"They've finally set a date."

"Oh," Miguel exclaims. His smile widens. "Oh, that is so exciting! We're going to a wedding!"

"We are, yeah." Whiskey smiles, too. "I haven't RSVP'd, yet, but…"

"No, no, of course we're going." Miguel is still beaming. "Wow. Wow. Do you know what colors they're doing? Ooh, and what's their venue?"

"I don't… We can read their invitation together." Whiskey watches Miguel for a moment. "You like weddings."

Miguel pauses briefly.

"I like seeing our friends happy." He smiles. "Whiskey, you know that I don't expect… I've never really thought that I would be married."

"Me neither." Whiskey isn't quite sure how to phrase his next question. "But, just because you didn't think it was in the cards… I mean. That's not necessarily the same thing as, you know. As not wanting to?"

"I guess not," Miguel agrees easily. Still, he shakes his head. "Honestly, it's really not something I've ever dreamed of, the way some people do. My choice of career was always going to be a big commitment for me, one that would certainly make things complicated in the romance department. But then you came along, and we've managed to build this life together, and it's just… It's so perfect. I don't need anything more."

"I know." Whiskey returns his smile. "I love the life we've built together, too. But, I'm just… Well. Actually. I've been thinking."

Slowly, Miguel's expression shifts.

"You have?"

"It's not…" Whiskey begins, only to pause. He needs to get this right. "It's something I'm still thinking about. I don't have all the right answers, yet."

"Okay." Miguel tilts his head. "Whiskey, did… Did something happen? To make you question yourself?"

Whiskey's smile softens. It's really something, how Miguel knows him so well.

"Kind of," he admits. "You know I went home, recently?"

"Yeah. For a funeral, right?"

"Exactly. My one of my uncles passed."

"Right." Miguel is nodding, even though his expression is somewhat confused. "I don't… You said you two weren't very close?"

"No, we weren't," Whiskey agrees. "But still, I… It got me thinking."

"About marriage?"

"About death." Whiskey almost smiles when Miguel's eyebrows shoot up. "I promise this isn't constantly on my mind, okay? It's just something I've kept coming back to, recently. Something I haven't ever thought about before."

"Okay." Miguel watches him in apparent confusion. "Whiskey, I'm sorry. You've lost me."

Whiskey takes a deep breath.

"When we die, I want them to bury me next to you."

Miguel is quiet for a moment.

"Oh," he says. His tone is careful. "I… Oh."

"And I don't think that would be possible," Whiskey continues. He actually smiles. "Unless… You know."

"Wait. Really?" Miguel actually manages to sound equal parts serious, and reproachful. It's really quite something. "Connor. I may never have dreamed of the perfect proposal, but if this is your idea of one, death might greet you a whole lot sooner than you think."

"No, it's not," Whiskey says quickly. "It's… I haven't finished thinking about this, not yet. I mostly feel like I don't really know what I should want."

"Maybe what you should want isn't the right question." Miguel sounds slightly more calm. He pauses to actually think for a moment. "You know, I'm… I hadn't really thought about that, either. But you… I think you have a point. You really do."

For a moment, they just look at one another.

"Well," Whiskey says lightly. It feels like something significant has shifted between them. It feels big. "I guess we'll see?"

"Yeah." Miguel seems to have found his smile again. "It wouldn't have to be an extravagant affair. You'd hate that."

"I would," Whiskey agrees. "But, at the same time… We wouldn't necessarily need to keep it just between you and me."

"I like that." Miguel tilts his head again. "You know, if… If we did? The world would find out, eventually. When we're gone, if nothing else."

"Yeah. I know."

"I don't know how I feel about that. I'll need some more time." Miguel's tone is unusually thoughtful. "But you would be okay with it?"

"I… I guess." Whiskey pauses for a moment. Suddenly, he remembers everything Angela's told him about the importance of taking control over the narrative. And honestly? Just like always, she has a point. "Except, if that is the path we take, maybe we should actually make sure that we have a say in how this story gets told? Not anytime soon, but, I don't know. At some point down the line."

"Right." Miguel is nodding, even though he still looks quite contemplative. "That's probably not a decision we should rush into."

"There's no need. We can figure it out at whatever pace feels right." Whiskey offers him another smile. "Thank you, by the way."

"For what?"

"For listening to me. For going through all of this with me."

"That's not something you need to thank me for." Miguel's smile softens into the one Whiskey loves best. "It's, you know. Sickness and health, good times and bad times. No matter what we tell the world, we both know that's what this is."

"Yeah," Whiskey agrees softly.

Sometimes, he still can't believe that they got here in the end. He smiles, helplessly.

"That's right. You're exactly right."

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gufettogrigio · 3 years

Text

That time Helmut Marko got bitten by a chihuahua.

If everything could be fixed with kinky sex, it would be a wonderful world indeed. As is, there are some things one does not mention around Mr Jean-Eric Vergne on pain of endless moping or explosive fits of anger. Unless one is Sam Bird, of course.

What takes André two hours of hot and healthy exercise to make better, Sam can fix with a cup of tea. He is also the only one who can get away with shoving a plate of food in front of Jev and staring until Jev has finished and then staring some more until he has made sure the food has not only been eaten but digested too.

He is also in the habit of just marching himself into the Techeetah garage and hug Jev whenever he thinks Jev is being too moody for his liking. It had irked André at first and it had taken Lucas growling at him while muttering about idiot Europeans and their mating rituals for André to convince himself to turn a blind eye to the hugs. (He is lying - he has taken more than one secret picture - Jev’s long limbs folded around Sam’s small frame, the tiny Brit snuggled right into his chest, Jev’s chin on top of Sam’s blond hair.)

André will not admit it not even under threat or actual torture but he is maybe a bit fond of them. Maybe even more than just fond. Of Jev. Only Jev. It's not like anyone's got a pair of gorgeous blue eyes and André does very much like what he sees when that anyone allows the bright, caring, resilient part of his personality to shine. Actually, André was just talking about the pictures, of course.

Anyway, the food and the moping and the laughing and redemption arc and cute, sometimes verging on hot, interactions André has seen. And yes, he will say...no, he won't say but...anyway, the only thing he hasn't seen is Red Bull. ��Marko is here” - Buemi warns before they step into the gala. Robin scrunches up his nose. “Oh, great. Man, do we gotta be here?" "Play nice" - Tonio says, eyeing the crowd - "Anyone has seen Jev?" The answer to that is no, of course, because when is Jev not fashionably late? Being late this time, however, is a recipe for disaster.

By the time André catches on to what is happening Jev and Marko are already talking. Or more precisely Marko is talking and Jev is trying his best not to let his PR smile turn into a show of teeth and swear words. Going by the sparkle in Marko's eyes and the tension in Jev's jaw, he is about to fail spectacularly. Or have a meltdown. André swears and considers the likelihood of his intervention be met by said snarling meltdown. Then thinks fuck it, sharp words, snarling meltdown and the entire shabang: Jev is worth it.

He has just stood up from the table when he sees someone has beaten him to the punch. Sam has made a bee line for Jev and appears at the Frenchman's elbow right at that moment. “Ah, here is your yapping chihuahua coming to the rescue.” - Marko sneers, sparing him barely a glance, his attention squarely on Jev, clearly intent on carrying on whatever conversation they had been having. “Don't worry, Jean-Eric. Not a chance. I would never set foot in the FE paddock, it’s full of faggots.” Sam looks up at him. “Why don’t you go to hell instead?” - he asks - “I am pretty sure there’s only people like you there.” Fine, André thinks as a now laughing Jev steers Sam away from a spluttering old fool while Robin cheers. He might have a bit of a crush. A tiny one.

#tiny fic #formula e fic #Sam+Jeandre #ot3 #Am I being kind to Helmut Marko? No #Does he deserve it? YES #tw homophobia #tw mention of eating disorder

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princemick-archive · 1 year

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Formula E's Techeetah Teammates Interview Each Other

#fe #formula e #jean eric verge #andre lotterer #jev #jeandre #kyle.gif #feedit

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nyckismysunshine · 2 years

Text

Grumpy jev😭

#formula e #jean eric verge #berlin eprix 2022

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damixnpriest · 2 years

Text

shoot me that look in your eyes on ao3

andré lotterer/jean-éric verge / e / ch.1/3 / cw: mentions of past transphobia, mentions of dysphoria, all brief and non explicit

Jean-Eric stumbles, a crack in the path that he should have been looking out for. He’s sat firmly in an uncomfortable metal chair but he can still feel the impact as he goes face first into the concrete. Sam, by the looks on his face, sees it all happen in slow motion. “Oh, right,” he says, eloquent as ever, “It’s not just sex.”

#besties guess who finally got their shit together #my life's work my magnum opus etc #jeandre tag #writing**

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neptunium134 · 1 year

Text

JEV: This is safe, right?

Stoffel, laughing nervously: Yes. ...And no. Mostly no

#jean eric verge #stoffel vandoorne #incorrect fe quotes #source: tumblr

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octoberink · 3 years

Photo

In His Hands Part 1

The pouring rain pounded against my car in a thunderous pitter-patter. My windshield wipers went into full drive to keep the water from altering my vision. And it was late. So it was dark out. I was driving back home from my best friend’s house. We had a good time. We watched a movie, and ate junk food like always. And it was always a good time. But—

It’s always the same thing.

Lately, however, I’ve been rather lucky it seemed. I got promoted at my job. I finally found an apartment I could afford that I liked and felt safe in. And I’ve been on a few dates with this nice guy. His name was Eric. And while we had been talking for several weeks online through this dating site, I was still so nervous to see him in public. As if he wouldn’t like the real thing beyond my picture. But I guess he did. At least well enough to agree on another three dates with me. He was nice, too. Real with me. He didn’t seem fake like half of the other assholes I’ve been out with. One even had a fake profile, and as soon as I saw that fifty-year-old-something sitting at our table with a full bottle of wine in front of him, I was gone. Out the door.

I sighed heavily in the car at the streak of bad luck. Just before the good luck kicked in. I was in a really good place right now, actually. And I needed to remember that. I needed to count my blessings. Not my problems. Life was good right now. As good as it needs to be. For now. But of course, as good as it seemed, I still had that feeling.

I wanted more than this.

I slowed down as I approached a stop sign ahead, and halted. It was hard to see the bright red octagon in the nightly downpour. It had been raining like this for five days. And as much as I would hate to admit it, I kinda missed the sun. But I did like the rain. A lot. Except when driving in it at night.

I checked to make sure there were no other cars coming before I pulled ahead. As I continued driving, the music in my car suddenly began to skip. “Damn it,” I muttered to myself, grabbing my phone that connected to my radio. I paused the melody, and gave it a second, flashing my eyes back and forth from the radio to the road. I pressed play. It kept skipping. “Oh, come on,” I groaned with annoyance. I closed the music app altogether, and gave it another moment. Then, I opened it up and pressed play. A consistent melody started once again. I felt my shoulders relax with relief before placing the music player in a small compartment underneath the stereo, and lifting my gaze back up.

I immediately had to slam on the brakes, and steer away from some enormous thing blocking the road. I veered off of the pavement, and straight into the trees that lined the secluded street. But the rear passenger side of my car hit the object hard, sending me in a spinning circle. My head hit the window as the right side of my car smashed into the hard contents of a large tree, finally stopping my drive.

I listened to the heavy pitter-patter of rain drum against my vehicle as I fought to stay awake. I wanted to close my eyes and sleep. I hit my head really hard. But I had to stay awake. I had to call 911. I needed help.

The world around me suddenly vibrated in a thunderous quake.

Was that thunder? They didn’t say anything about thunder in the weather. It came again, and I glanced into the rearview mirror to see it vibrate from the alarming sound. And in the reflection, I saw something move. Was someone here? Maybe they could help me.

The headlights on my car flickered out.

“Shit,” I muttered. “No, no, no. Come on.” I played around with the small device that controlled my lights, but nothing worked.

I looked out of my window, hoping to see the figure I noticed earlier coming my way to help. But I saw nothing. I turned to my phone, and decided to call for help. I dialed 911, but before I could press that green button, something smacked against my window.

I whipped my head around to the noise. And felt my heart skip at the sight. It looked like an enormous thumb. Resting right against my window. I could see the rivets in the skin where the thumbprint would be—smushed right up against the drenched glass.

There was another smack to my right, and I quickly looked over to see another one. On the other window. My heart quickened its pace. My breath grew shaky. I had no idea what was going on. And that terrified me.

My car suddenly started to groan. As if the metal itself was in pain. And then, a truly bizarre feeling engulfed me. I felt as if I was being lifted. Like my car had suddenly turned into an elevator. As this unusual experience occurred, another one began. The headlights of my car began to flicker on and off. As they did, I caught glimpses of fabric. Jeans that took up my entire vision. Cotton that had been drenched from the rain. All enormous. And all flashing before me, proving that me and my poor car were climbing up.

My lights turned off. After another moment, the rising feeling ceased. I sat perfectly still in my seat, gripping the strap of my seatbelt with white knuckles. I held my breath, unsure of what to do, or even think in this situation.

What the hell is going on?

I was on the brink of freaking out. I could feel the scream climbing to my throat, ready to burst any second. The headlights came back on.

And I wanted to scream. I truly did. But it was now stuck in my throat. All that escaped me were heavy gasps of shock and horror.

A giant pair of eyes gazed right through my windshield. To stare right at me.

I have to get out of here. I have to escape. That was the only thing running through my head. I have to get out of my car! I unbuckled myself, and looked over to open my door. But there was a literal giant-fucking-thumb in my way! I turned back to the enormous pair of eyes to see them suddenly replaced by a giant mouth. With massive, white teeth that glinted under the harsh lights of my vehicle.

“Oh, shit,” I murmured to myself with a quaking voice. “Oh, God—oh, my God,” I was on the verge of fainting. I could feel it. The way my head felt light and airy. And the horrible urge to let it come over me—“No,” I shook my head. “No, no, no. Stay awake. Come on,” I turned around to see the doors behind me free from giant, meaty digits. I turned back to the front of my car to see those eyes appear again.

This brought back the rush of fear, and I used it to give me the ability to try and escape. I lowered the back of my seat as far as it could go before crawling to the rear of my car. I gripped the handle, pulled, and then used my body to push against the door. But it didn’t open. It was stuck. Jammed. Oh, for f—“Come on!” I grunted as I began to bash my shoulder into the door. “Come on! Please!” I raised my voice as the fear of this thing killing me consumed my entire being. I used all of my strength for one last push, flinging the car door open. And tumbling out of the vehicle myself.

For a moment I was falling in the air, screaming, and flailing my limbs around in a desperate attempt to stop my plunge to the hard ground. But instead of the ground, I landed in something much softer. Something warmer. Something that wrapped itself around my body. I opened my eyes to see the ground no more than a few feet from my face.

An explosion of noise burst from my left, and I looked over to see my car. My car was on the ground. The glass in all of the windows had shattered from the impact it took, allowing the rain to pour itself inside, and soak the interior. But—

If my car is now on the ground, then what am I...?

The world around me began to move. The ground below me edged further and further away. I was being lifted back up. Only this time, there was no car to keep me safe. I suddenly began to twist around in whatever it was that encased me. Panic settled in. And I writhed. I kicked and flailed. I screamed.

My screaming came to a halt, however, once I was turned around. And I saw those eyes. Black eyes. They were connected to an enormous face. The face was connected to a body that led down to a giant hand. The hand that held me.

The headlights of my car were still on somehow. And they brought a low, menacing light to the massive figure before me. He stared at me with water dripping down his enormous features. He flashed a massive, toothy grin my way.

“You better have insurance after hitting me like that,” his booming, somewhat southern-accented voice called above the pouring rain.

It talks. This twenty-five-foot-tall man just spoke English to me. And as confused as I was at what he just said, when I felt his warm breath wash over my face, goosebumps instantly rose along my arms and legs. Something was taking over me. Something was about to happen. I was about to finally react to this thing before me. And he knew that.

He cocked a large, dark brow at me and sighed with a smile still plastered on his features. “Let me guess, you’re gonna—”

Every ounce of energy and distress balled up into one big, loud scream. It built up in my lungs, climbed through my throat, and burst out of my mouth with a horrifying wail. The giant man before me hardly reacted to this. He calmly watched me as if bored by my screams.

When I paused to catch my breath, he smiled again. “Are ya done?”

The fear was too much. Overwhelming. I opened my mouth and screamed again. As if my very soul was being ripped from my body. And now, he looked slightly annoyed. Which scared me even more. Before I could beg for my life, a massive mound of flesh plastered itself over my mouth, silencing my cries. It didn’t take long for me to realize it was the tip of his finger. I immediately reached my hands up to push it away, but he was far too strong.

“Stop,” he sternly muttered. “That’s annoying.” He watched me for a moment longer, keeping his finger over my mouth. I decided to stop struggling for now, despite the way his massive hand dug into my waist. “You’re not gonna scream again, are you?” When I quickly shook my head, he smirked. “Good girl.”

His finger retreated, allowing me to breathe again. And I began to struggle in the hand that held me. His grip tightened a bit on my hips, putting a strange ache in my bones. Even the tips that curled around my stomach started to hurt. I had a feeling I would get bruises from this. But bruises were, of course, the very last thing I was worried about at the moment.

I noticed the way he simply watched me squirm in his hand. His smile wide and menacing on his giant face. Right. Apparently, giants exist now. I was being held by a giant man. And I needed to stay calm. I needed to get out of this alive. “Can you let me go?” I asked.

He cocked a brow, and leaned in closer. I cowered away when his face got even bigger. “What was that, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart? Why is he talking to me like he knows me? I cautiously glanced back up at him, and raised my voice. “P-please?” I stuttered from the shaking in my body. “Can you put me down?”

I barely heard his light chuckle over the downpour. “What, are you uncomfortable?”

I reached a hand up to wipe away the rain on my face. I nodded. “Yeah,” I called back. I squirmed a bit more in his grip as if to prove my point. “A little, so please—”

“Alright,” he smirked as his massive shoulders briefly moved up and down in a shrug. “Then, we better get going.”

Wha—uh, wait. I froze in confusion at his words. “G-going?” I repeated. “Going where?”

“Home,” he replied. And he said nothing more.

Home? Whose home? Mine, or his? Am I being freakin’ kidnapped? I heard a strange noise erupt around us before I caught glimpses of a strange blue light in the darkness. The headlights of my car blinked on and off over and over again. As if something was drawing power away from them. “W-what’s happening?” I yelled. “What are you doing?” Next thing I know, I’m surrounded by light. While still in this thing’s clutches. And I felt a sudden rush of energy pulse through me. As if my body suddenly decided to use up all of its adrenaline at once. Once the blue light flickered away, I went limp in his fist.

I was still awake. But I couldn’t move. I felt exhausted. Weak. Like my body had given up on itself. I swayed like a ragdoll in his hand as he walked. My eyes felt heavy. As I slowly blinked, I could catch glimpses of where I ended up. Flashes of the scene of a living room.

A giant living room.

A giant couch. An enormous chair. The biggest flat screen TV I had ever laid eyes on. And a massive shelf full of movies. I could feel his hand slowly lower me down somewhere. I landed on something soft. Like a huge pillow. And watched with dreary eyes as this giant creature stared down at me. Hands on his hips. And a large smirk on his face.

“Go to sleep,” his voice was laced with calmness. As if this was all normal. It echoed in my head as exhaustion crawled over me. Just as I closed my eyes, his voice emerged once more. “We’ll talk more when you’re awake.”

*~*~*~*~*

Everything hurt.

My arms. My legs. My chest when I breathed in. Even my fingertips felt sore. I wasn’t sure why. I was just glad to be alive. I am alive, right?

I slowly fluttered my eyes open to see a great big blur. When I tried to lift my head, it swam and ached, causing me to squeeze my eyes shut at the sensation. I planted a hand against my forehead as I slowly sat up. I had been lying on my stomach. On something soft. Something was also draped over me, and when I looked down, I saw fabric. But fabric that was expanded. Like it was bigger. As if my vision had zoomed in on it. But my hand on the fabric was normal in size. I slowly and carefully turned my head, causing my neck to ache at the movement. I saw more enlarged fabric on my back. Like a blanket.

What happened? Where am I?

And when I decided to finally take a glance at my surroundings, it suddenly became much harder to breathe. Despite the pounding throb bouncing in my skull, I whipped my head around at the world before me. A world of—what looked like to me—

A world made for a giant.

It looked like a giant living room. And I was on what seemed to be a giant, fluffy pillow. That rested on—I leaned forward to see a slab of wood. High over carpeted floor. A coffee table. I was sitting on a giant coffee table. Which seemed completely insane.

Have I finally gone mad? What the hell is this place?

I brought the blanket around me even tighter, wincing at the sudden ache in my head. I brought my hand up. And touched my hair. It was damp. Why is my hair damp?

And it all came rushing back to me.

The crash. The giant thumbs. The giant man. He spoke to me. He said something. But I couldn’t remember what it was. Taking another glance at the world around me, I realized—shit. I’m in his home. His living room. What? What the hell? Why would he take me? What’s he going to do to me?

My body trembled violently as the horrible thoughts in my mind suddenly brought in a new reality. All of those awful things I had once heard about giants in fairy tales as a child—what they would be able to do to tiny people suddenly became real. Oh, God. I have to get out of here. I could feel tears of true fear and panic edge into my eyes. If I didn’t get out of this, who knows what this thing has planned for me? I whipped my head around, searching for him. He wasn’t in the room with me. Where was he? What do I do?

Maybe I should wait until he comes back. Maybe I can reason with him. Oh, man. I hope he hears me out. I have a family waiting for me at home. I have a job to get to, and a date tonight. I have a good friend who’s probably trying to call me.

Call. My phone.

I began to frantically search for the device. I looked all over the massive pillow I was on before I carefully slipped off of it, and looked around on the tabletop. I even pushed the pillow off to see if it was under that. But it was nowhere to be found. I shook my head as a pit of despair dropped in my gut. Shit! I’m dead. I’m going to die. He’s going to—

My blood suddenly froze at the sound of something coming my way. I could feel the world around me quake at the impact of thunderous footsteps. Coming here. Coming for me. I cowered away now wishing I hadn’t pushed off the pillow. I could’ve felt at least a little safe hiding behind it. Hearing him get closer only caused me to tremble even more at the fear that consumed me.

And when he entered the room, I couldn’t breathe.

In the full light of the space we were in, he looked even bigger than he did last night. Broad shoulders. Narrow hips. A hard jawline with slightly raised cheekbones. Tanned, glowing skin. Hair buzzed on the sides of his head, but smoothly groomed and slicked back on the top. Like a mohawk trying to act classy. His hair was a very deep, dark brown. Almost black. And his eyes. His eyes bore the same darkness, sending a harsh chill down my spine. He had muscle. Easily noticeable beneath the black, skin-tight tee that he wore. Heavy, dark jeans that covered his large legs.

And when his eyes met mine, the world came to a complete halt.

He smiled. And then, he spoke. “Well, look who’s finally awake,” he greeted.

My heart was pounding at the way he was looking at me. Like he was proud. As if I was some grand prize. A valuable object. As soon as he started walking over to my position on the coffee table, I quickly began to back away. “No, no, no! You s-stay away!” my voice rose with a stutter. I even put my hands up as if they would protect me from getting crushed by this thing. “Stay away from m-me!” I yelled.

But he didn’t stop. He strolled right over to me as I teetered on the edge of the table. When I saw him bend down and reach a hand out to me, I squeezed my eyes shut. And braced myself for the torture he would bestow on me.

His massive fingers wrapped around my waist, causing that soreness from the previous night to return. And when the ground disappeared from beneath my feet, I felt sick to my stomach. My hands gripped the meaty digits that clutched me. “Wait, wait, wait, just w—oh, God,” I whispered. The fear of being dropped like this from any height scared me. But not as much as the fear I was suddenly slapped by when I dared to look up. His massive face was closer than ever. He had a small scar over his right eye that I hadn’t noticed before. His deep brown eyes observed me as I struggled in his uncomfortable grip. Now I had this horrible fear of getting my head bitten off by him. When he smiled, his teeth were brilliantly white. Massive. Strong enough to chomp right through—

Oh, God. My stomach rolled.

“Well,” he murmured, washing his warm breath over me once again. “Look at y—”

I didn’t even think. I just kicked. I kicked as hard as I could, and my foot met his nose with a hard snap. He flinched his features away from me as he cried out in surprise. The pressure around my waist vanished. And I briefly felt the terror of gravity pull me down. Thankfully, it was a short tumble to the hard tabletop. As soon as I sat up, I began to crawl backwards to get away from him. He quickly rubbed the sore spot on his face before locking his eyes with mine. And when he smiled, my stomach flipped with dread and regret.

“Now that was a ballsy thing to do, Taylor,” he chuckled.

I felt the hairs on the back of my neck shoot up. How the hell does he know my name?

He leaned forward, looming over my small figure on his table. “Didn’t expect that from the likes of you.”

The way he had said my name and was talking to me made my blood freeze with horror. Why is he talking to me like we know each other? What is happening? When I noticed his hand edge closer to me, I backed up. “W-wait a minute,” I stammered as his hand continued its pursuit. “Just wait a sec—please, don’t pick me up again!”

He raised his brows in surprise at my tone. “You’re giving me orders?” he grinned. “That’s cute, cupcake.” His voice suddenly lowered as he leaned in even closer to me. “But I’m gonna do whatever I want with you. And yes, that includes picking you up whenever I please. Now, get over here.”

Just before his fingers touched me, I called out in fear. “Wait! How do you know my name?” That seemed to stop him. I had to keep this going. I didn’t want to be in his hands again. “Who are you? Can you at least tell me—”

“Are you gonna let me answer, or is this one of those one-sided conversations we’re having?” he muttered. And I shut my mouth. He smiled, leaned back a bit, and stared at me a moment longer. “I’m Kade Lyon,” he began. “And I know a lot more than just your name, darlin’.” He lowered himself into a seated position, and took in a breath through his nose. “Taylor Orwell. Twenty-three years old, lives alone in the state of Rhode Island. Has a large family due to both parents divorcing, and both getting remarried to other larger families. Hobbies include writing, playing guitar, and a game of chess once in a while. Works as an office assistant in a law firm building, and has recently been promoted. Likes the beach, hiking, and the occasional rainy day, but does not like beer, karaoke, or rom-coms.” He cocked a brow at my silence. “Did I miss anything?”

I was speechless. In shock. How did he know so much about me? I still didn’t understand. I had so many questions. I took a quick glance around me. “What is this place?”

Kade shrugged. “Well, you’re in my home.”

I passed him an odd look. Yes. I know. Thank you for clarifying that.

He chuckled at my reaction. “And by that I really mean you’re not in your own world. You’re in my world. The world of Teras.”

Teras? What does that mean?

He easily sensed my confusion. “Or in your case,” he gestured to himself. “The world of the giants.”

Giants? A whole world of them? I think I’ve lost it. And now, I had to ask the question I was most afraid to have answered. “Why am I here?”

Kade eyed me for a moment. Deviously. As if I had asked him the one question he’d been waiting to answer. He looked me up and down for a moment before he stood back up to his full height, giving me a horrid shiver down my spine. “I’ll be right back.”

As soon as he was out of the room, I closed my eyes. And took in deep breaths. My heart was pounding. My head was throbbing. And my entire body was quaking. I was terrified. I had a horrible feeling that I was not going home. That he was going to kill me, or torture me. The look he had in his eyes before he left the room made my stomach roll. Where was he going? Would he come back with a giant knife to cut me up? Was he getting another giant person to tear me apart? When my head swirled, I decided to sit down on the tabletop. And wait for him to return.

Hopefully he would answer my questions. And not kill me, or throw me in a pot of boiling water like a lobster. God, I was so scared. I didn’t know what to do. Or what to think. I was in another world? How is that possible? I was heading home last night. It was raining, I remember that. I must’ve hit Kade with my car. Was he mad about that? Is that why I’m here? I didn’t mean to, it was just so dark I couldn’t see anything. He just came out of nowhere.

I felt like running away. Far away. As far as I could go and never stop. This couldn’t be real, right? This has to be a nightmare. I’m dreaming right now. Which made sense, I suppose. I would dream about something like this, considering all of the stories about giants that I read growing up.

The air around me began to tremble again as his heavy footsteps slowly returned to me. I stood back up to my feet, as if I should be ready at any moment to fight a twenty-five-foot man. And when Kade entered the room, he had a tray in his hand. He lowered it down on the coffee table before me. On the tray, I was surprised and confused by what I was seeing. A big plate for him. As well as a large cup, and food and drink to go with it. A fork, a spoon.

A knife.

I swallowed nervously, and moved my gaze to the bizarre arrangement beside it. A plate my size. Cutlery, and a cup with food and everything. My size. Not his. What is this place? Kade carefully moved the smaller pieces to me, humming happily as he placed them on the coffee table. He then sat on the floor to get closer to my level. The tray of food sitting in his lap. He passed me a look I really didn’t like. As if he was excited about something.

“You should eat something, princess,” he muttered, still grinning. “Traveling between dimensions can take a toll on your body.”

But I wasn’t hungry. Even as I watched him dig into his own meal, my stomach churned with uncertainty. He wasn’t going to eat me, was he? Is that why he was feeding me? To fatten me up? Oh, seriously, Taylor? Why do you have to think of these things?

“Mr. Lyon?” I quietly called. His brown eyes landed on me, making my heart skip. “Please,” I murmured. “Why am I—”

“Call me Mr. Lyon again, and we’re gonna have a serious problem, short stuff,” he muttered in a deep tone.

Oh, boy. Okay. I shrugged at him. “Kade?” He smirked when I said his name. I took a step back. “Please, tell me why I’m here.”

That strange look crossed his gaze once again. And he looked down to the food in his lap with a wide smile. He hesitated. Took his time. Just stared down at the way his hands cut the meat on his plate while I waited anxiously. He then lifted his gaze to me. And I saw what looked like a glimmer of pride in his features. “Because you’re mine.”

I stared at this thing before me with mixed emotions. I was confused. I was scared. He thought he owned me? I shook my head at him with disbelief. “W-what are you saying? I don’t understand what you mean, I am not y—” Kade’s eyes suddenly flashed defiance at my words. As if I was wrong about what I was going to say. The look on his face bothered me. Scared me. “Will you take me home?” I murmured. “Please?”

He shook his head as his grin returned. “No-can-do, sweetcheeks.”

“Why?” I instantly blurted. I could feel the fear overpower my confusion. My body shook at the horrific reasons this thing would want to keep me.

Kade’s gaze never left mine. “It’s like I said. You’re mine.”

I shrugged at him. “Okay, look—I don’t understand, you just keep saying the same thing, Kade, could you please explain to me what is going on here?”

Kade moved the food tray to the floor beside him. And then he leaned forward. As if he was trying to intimidate me. I backed away with a whimper, afraid that I had pissed him off. But he kept his hands out of sight beneath the table.

“You humans think you’re the only ones out there with power,” he began. “The only ones with souls, self awareness. Ambition.” He shook his head at me. “None of you have a clue about our world. What we do. Why we do it.” He shrugged. “I would explain everything to you, but there are things that your pea-brain isn’t going to understand right away. So,” he cocked a brow with confidence. “You’re just gonna have to trust me.”

I chose to ignore the pea-brain comment. “Trust you?” I repeated in an accusatory tone. “You want me to trust you after you kidnapped me?”

“I saved you,” he retaliated. “Which you never thanked me for.”

My jaw dropped. “Thank you?”

“Aw, you’re welcome, buttercup,” he passed me a cheeky smile.

I raised my voice as the fear continued to consume and suffocate me. “Will you please just tell me why I’m here?” I backed away. “A-are you going to hurt me, or kill me?”

Kade suddenly laughed at that, shaking his head. “Hell no. I wouldn’t dream of diminishing your value.”

My value? As relieved as I was at that news, I felt a new wave of fear overcome me. Was he going to sell me? Were people my size seen as prizes on the black market or something? I was ready to give up on this guy and his ability to answer one freakin’ question. “Then why—”

“You won’t understand,” he interrupted.

Now that I knew he wasn’t the one that was going to hurt me, I decided to test my limits a bit. I dared to take a step closer to him on the table. And I crossed my arms. “Try me.”

Kade’s eyes were locked onto mine. His smile didn’t waver for a second. “Your world is falling apart,” he murmured. “Your species is annihilating itself, and you don’t even know it. In just a few years, your world is going to end. And humanity will die with it.” He watched for my reaction to his words. Words I was still processing. And I was waiting to hear more. “I took you away, because that’s my job. We go to your world, and we each find and take one human back with us. To keep. To help give humanity one more chance by allowing them to stay here. With us.” He leaned forward. But I was frozen where I was. “As brave and noble as we are, we won’t be able to save all of you. Even though we’re trying our best. And we don’t want to accelerate the process that your dimension is going through by making our presence known to your species. Because if that were to happen, you would all be dead in a matter of days. You would all be gone if we didn’t take our time with this. As our scientists say, it’s an extremely delicate matter.”

I didn’t even know what to say. Or think. How to process this. Our world would be gone soon? In a few years? How? I didn’t completely understand all of this. Why was this happening now?

“You’re mine,” he murmured, gathering my attention to him once again. “I chose you, Taylor. I get to take care of you. I’ve been trained for this, and it’s up to me to make sure you survive what’s coming.” His eyes gazed at me. With that same smug smile on his face. “I’m your caretaker. And you. Are. Mine.”

Trained for this? Caretaker? Is that why he had things like plates and cups in my size? Was it specifically made for humans for when we’re forced to live here? I could only stare at him with wide eyes of fear. Confusion. Doubt. How could I possibly know that he was even telling the truth about all of this? So much of this just sounded so crazy.

At my silence, he raised a brow. “I told you that you wouldn’t understand.”

He’s right. I don’t understand. He needed to help me comprehend what he just told me. “How do you know?” I murmured. “How do you know that our world is going to be gone soon?”

Kade edged back to lean against the foot of the enormous chair behind him. “We’ve been watching your dimension for a long time,” he began. “We’ve briefly attempted to make contact with a couple of humans in the past. Which in turn created your stories about us.” He paused. “When we saw how much our kind has made more of an impact in your culture in recent years, we thought it was time to introduce ourselves. We wanted to teach you about world-jumping. And hoped that you could teach us something in return. But,” he shrugged. “The Director denied our requests to meet with you. Scientists from our world discovered that your planet was on the brink of collapse. And apparently, they couldn’t risk the safety of our world by merging it with yours like we had planned. But they also couldn’t just sit by and watch an entire species go extinct. As long as they could do something about it, anyway.”

And I noticed that familiar glimmer pass in Kade’s eyes again. He was looking at me like he was sort of excited about this. Which made me wonder about something else. “Why me?”

And his smile grew wider at that. “Why not?” At my confused look, he shrugged. “To be honest with you, I really wanted to choose someone that was going to be more...” he paused to search for the right word. “Submissive,” he grinned. “Someone that wouldn’t fight back when I felt like picking you up, and holding you. Or snuggle you, if I was in the mood. I requested that sort of personality file. And you hadn’t been picked on the list in your district, yet. So, I decided to choose you.” He chuckled. “Boy, were you a surprise with that kick.”

I seemed to finally understand this situation I was in. “You wanted a pet,” I quietly murmured. I was going to be stuck here. Forever. With this thing. In his massive world. “I’m just a pet to you.”

Kade reached for something to his left. “Now you’re gettin’ it.” He held an open bottle of beer in his hand. And slightly raised it. “Welcome home, Taylor.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

so, I’ve been writing again...slowly, but it’s something lol and I really liked how this was turning out, so I thought I would share it on here! what do you all think? should I write more? hope you’re all having a lovely Saturday! :D

#giant #tiny #giant/tiny #story #writing #art #cartoon #artists on tumblr

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let-it-raines · 4 years

Text

your wonder under summer skies (9/?)

Summer in Storybrooke, Maine means one thing for its residents: tourist season. This year, for Emma Swan and Killian Jones, it means relationships ending and friendships changing all the while they attempt to figure out just what their relationship is. It’s somewhere straddling the line between friends and lovers, and there’s no guarantee of a soft landing if they fall into new territory.

rating: mature

ao3: beginning | current

tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 |

-/-

“Do you have on sunscreen?”

“I basically took a bath in it, Marg.”

“You’re looking a little red.”

Emma sighs and looks down at her chest before turning to her shoulders. She’s the slightest bit pink, and she sighs. Dammit. She sprayed herself down twice before she got here, and it’s only been an hour since she’s been outside.

“Do you want to finish the rest of these inside then?”

“We’ve only got a few left, but you need to make sure to reapply before we go out to the festival.”

Emma nods and keeps stuffing bags with water bottles and snacks. They’ve got to get these to Ashley and Aurora before lunchtime and then need to get to the dining rooms to check on their members. Mary Margaret can leave after that since the club is mostly shutting down early to encourage everyone to support local businesses and the festival, but Emma’s got to meet with two brides before she can go. She doesn’t know why the hell they picked her to coordinate over Mary Margaret, and if she got paid by commission, she’d really appreciate that. Since she doesn’t, though, and really only wants to get a tan and eat funnel cake, she’s not too interested in having to talk weddings for a few hours.

“So,” Mary Margaret hums, “have you met the new Sheriff?”

“Nope. David likes him, doesn’t he?”

“David loves him! Oh, Emma, he’s just great! David says he’s organized and always on time, and he’s great at building morale. We had him over for dinner last night, and he was the sweetest thing. Very handsome, too.”

Emma’s hand falters on the bag of animal crackers she’s holding before she drops them in the bag and glances over at Mary Margaret, who is doing her best to avoid looking Emma in the eye.

Smooth, Marg. Real smooth.

“No.”

“No? I didn’t even say anything!”

“You are about as subtle as a gun, Mary Margaret Noland. You’re trying to set me up with the new Sheriff, and I’m not interested. I mean, I just broke up with Neal.”

“A month a half a go!”

“After five years, a month and a half doesn’t seem like that long, does it?”

Mary Margaret finally has the courage to look at her, and Emma wants to be annoyed. She really does. She just can’t seem to find it in her today to do that.

Good intentions, she reminds herself. Mary Margaret and David nearly always have good intentions.

Doesn’t mean she has to like them.

“I’m not ready to date someone, and I don’t think the new Sheriff is rebound material for me.”

“Well, why not?”

“Because you like him, and David works with him. Do you really want for things to be awkward when I inevitably break up with him?”

Mary Margaret’s sigh can probably be heard in Australia. “How do you know you’re going to break up with him?”

“Because I’m not ready to date! I just said that. I’m not too interested in getting hurt again.”

“Oh, Emma, those walls of yours may keep out pain, but they also may keep out love.”

She’s going to crush these poor kids’ animal crackers if her fist doesn’t loosen soon.

Good intentions.

Good fucking intentions.

“Marg,” she whispers, “I had my trust ruined by a man I thought I could have been with forever. That doesn’t just go away, okay? You’ve been with David for your entire life. You guys have only been apart for two days in fifteen years. I’m sorry, but you can’t possibly understand what I’m going through right now or how damn hard it is to know that Neal is still in this town walking around with Tamara without a care in the world. I loved him, and that wasn’t enough yet again. So maybe just let me have some time, okay? Let me be able to see Neal walking down the street and not have a meltdown. I’m not ready to seriously date someone else.”

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean – ”

“It’s fine,” Emma lies as she inhales and tries to get some much-needed air into her lungs. “Let’s just finish up here. The sooner we’re done, the sooner I can get to my funnel cakes.”

“You and those funnel cakes.”

“They’re the best part of the holiday.”

“Not the fireworks?”

“Nah, it’s the funnel cakes.”

Mary Margaret drops the conversation, and she miraculously doesn’t bring up anything having to do with relationships for the rest of their day. It’s all updates on the bathroom renovation in the house and David’s new obsession with homemade lasagna, which Granny is definitely going to be pissed about. Then she moves onto Elsa and Liam’s wedding, which does verge a little into the relationship territory but is also their job, so she lets it slide.

Mary Margaret was very much meant to help others plan their wedding days. The sparkle in her eyes alone shows that.

After they check in with the two luncheons that are happening, Mary Margaret takes her leave and goes home, promising to meet Emma at Eric’s restaurant later tonight. Emma’s brides are both early, both far too overenthusiastic, but they keep under their hour-long appointments, and by four, Emma is in her car and on her way home to change and get ready for tonight.

The funnel cakes are still calling her name.

As soon as she gets home, she takes her shoes off at the door, heads back to her room and changes into a bikini before pulling on a pair of jean shorts and an old flannel shirt. It’s too big on her, and when she looks down at it, she realizes it’s Killian’s. For a moment, she considers changing, but it’s comfortable and will be warm for after the sun sets.

Plus, his cologne is still lingering, and he wears some damn good cologne.

It’ll also annoy the hell out of him if she doesn’t give his shirt back, so the benefits of keeping it on continue rolling in.

Getting to the boardwalk is nearly impossible with the roads blocked off for some of the rides and booths that have been brought in, so Emma ends up turning around and driving on the outskirts of downtown before finding parking outside of Killian’s place.

Skipper greets her through the window of a back office, and Emma taps on the window before looping around and heading through the back door so she doesn’t set off that damn alarm.

“Hey, boy,” she greets, “hey, you working hard, my friend? Giving yourself a case for employee of the month?”

“I am employee of the month, always.”

Emma jumps and backs up against the wall to close her eyes and take a few deep breaths to calm her heartbeat.

“Where did you come from?”

“So, my mum and dad, somehow, had sex, and then – ”

“Somehow? Do you think parents don’t have sex? That’s how we all get here.”

“My parents hated each other for most of my life. I can’t imagine them ever liking each other enough to want to sleep together.”

“Hate sex is a thing.”

“I will pay you to stop talking.”

“Really? How much?”

Killian steps up to her and dips his head until his lips brush across the shell of her ear. “Whatever your heart desires.”

A shiver works itself down her spine and up over her arms as gooseflesh appears, and Emma’s breath stutters. “I’ll stop talking if you buy me a funnel cake.”

“I’ll buy you two.” His teeth tug down on her ear before his lips brush against her cheek, and then he’s pulling back and putting some space between them. “Give me twenty minutes to set up the answering machine, and then we’ll walk to Ariel’s together. Can you feed Skipper for me?”

“Is he not coming with us?”

“No, I didn’t want to have to keep up with him tonight, and the fireworks scare him.”

“Do they scare you, buddy?” she says to the dog as she scratches his ears. “They scare you, and your dad is going to make you stay here all by yourself? That’s not very nice.”

“I’ll leave the TV on for him, Swan. He won’t hear a thing.”

“You love Killian so you can’t see his flaws, but a good owner would never leave you.”

Emma snickers as Killian groans behind her. “If you want to walk him for the next several hours, feel free.”

“Nah, I’m good. Is the food upstairs?”

“In the kitchen.”

Emma nods and starts walking up the stairs, whistling so Skipper will follow her up, and when she gets to the kitchen, she finds the bag of food, pours it in the bowl, and then refreshes his water bowl while he eats. A bit of water accidentally splashes on the counter, and Emma picks up the mail that got wet to try to keep it from getting even more wet.

“Going through my mail then?”

“Good God,” Emma breathes out, “do the two of you insist on scaring the shit out of me?”

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Emma sighs, turning around to see Liam. “Your brother just scared me when I walked in the office downstairs. I swear the two of you don’t have footsteps sometimes.”

Liam shrugs. “Is he downstairs?”

“Yeah, he’s making sure everything’s all set for you two to take the night off. Elsa told me you found tuxes you like. You know, if you have enough groomsmen, they might give you a discount on rentals or on yours if you want to buy it. I know you haven’t decided on everyone, but it’s something to think about.”

Liam’s lips press into a forced smile. “I will keep that in mind.”

Silence falls between them, and Emma awkwardly shuffles the mail in her hand before dropping it back to the counter. She doesn’t remember the last time she was in a room alone with just Liam, and really, she should be better at coming up with small talk since she has to do it all day every day.

Or, maybe, she can’t do it now because she’s just so damn tired of doing it and can’t put in the effort.

“So, would you happen to know who my brother is seeing?”

Emma nearly chokes on air. “What?”

“Do you know who Killian is seeing?” Liam repeats, stepping closer as the floor creaks below him. “You two are close, and, I don’t know, he’s keeping who he’s seeing from me, which he’s never done before. I figured you…I guess I was curious and wanted to know.”

Oh God.

No. Just no.

She is not having this conversation, especially when this conversation is about her.

Not that Liam knows that.

Hopefully.

Wait. Is it her? Or is he seeing someone else? He could definitely be seeing someone else at this point. She thought he would have told her, though. That was the agreement.

He definitely would have told her. Killian is a man of his word. Of that, she is sure.

“Is he seeing someone?”

Liam clicks his tongue, and damn, that is such a Jones thing to do. “I assume. He doesn’t come home some nights, occasionally takes a longer lunch than usual, and I swear he’s been sneaking someone in and out.”

Oh shit.

How many times has Liam almost caught them? That’s not good at all. At least she hasn’t had to jump out the window again. That was a pain in the ass. Literally.

“Look,” she sighs as she straightens her back, “even if did know who he was seeing, it wouldn’t be my place to tell you his secrets. If he’s not telling you, I’m sure he has his reasons.”

Liam’s eyes narrow as he crosses his arms over his chest, and if she got a dollar for every time he did that, she’d be rich. “So, he is seeing someone?”

“I don’t know. Let him tell you whatever he wants to tell you. He’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.”

“Doesn’t hurt to have someone else helping him out.”

“It does if that someone can be overbearing.”

“Are you referring to me?”

“I really feel like I don’t have to say who I’m referring to.”

“Hey, you ready to go? Ariel texted and – oh, hey, Liam.”

Liam blinks, slowly, before turning from Emma to look at Killian. “What did Ariel say?”

“Just that she’s got the big table on the deck saved for all of us. Do you want to walk with us or are you waiting for Elsa?”

“I can walk with the two of you. Elsa is working in a booth, remember?”

“Of course. We’ll have to stop by and get some ice cream after we get Emma her funnel cakes.”

“Funnel cakes, ice cream, and dinner at Eric’s? That’s quite the spread, lass.”

Emma pats her stomach and smirks at Liam. She guesses their conversation from earlier is done. “What can I say? I like food, and the fair only comes to town once a year.”

“I thought the club put on a fair in August.”

“That’s for kids, and we don’t have funnel cakes. Come on, Joneses, I’m ready to go.”

Killian and Liam spend the entire walk talking about a baseball game from last night, and as much as Emma enjoys it, she really only enjoys watching it, not debating about it when the game is over and done with. She knows she’ll have to debate it when she and Killian go to New York next month, but for now, she drowns them out and looks around the boardwalk. String lights are hung above them, criss-crossing between buildings and stalls, and she can’t wait for the sun to set so they can be turned on. There’s something weirdly magical about fairy and bulb lights when they come on, and really, she’s looking forward to that more than the fireworks.

Obviously, she’s got high-standards for things that she enjoys.

Kids keep running in front of them, not looking where they’re going, and Emma almost trips at least twice before Killian tugs her back so she’s not walking slightly ahead of the two of them.

She would have loved being able to do things like this as a kid. It would have made her life just to be able to waste all of her money on these rigged games trying to win a stuffed animal, but she was never given the opportunity. Now, she knows better than to waste money on something she has no need for.

Except for the funnel cakes, which she can now smell.

“KJ, you owe me two funnel cakes. I’m cashing in on one now.”

He turns his head and raises his brow. “Now? We’re about to get dinner?”

Emma points to the stand a few feet ahead of her. “I can smell it. I need it.”

“There’s quite a line at that booth.”

Emma stops walking and tugs on Killian’s t-shirt while batting her eyelashes. She knows it doesn’t work, but it’s all she’s got. “C’mon. The table will still be waiting for us.”

“You two go,” Liam says. “I think I’m going to see if Elsa needs help. She said she her summer staff working, but I’m sure she might like the company.”

“You could also go let those teenagers enjoy the carnival.”

“That was my plan, little brother.”

“Younger.”

Liam winks and smiles. “It’s the same.”

“No, it’s bloody well not,” Killian shouts as Liam walks away, waving as he goes.

“You two have a very weird relationship.”

“You have no idea,” he sighs, wrapping his arm around Emma’s shoulder and pulling her closer until his lips and lightly brushing against her temple, and she swears that he breathes her in. That would be ridiculous, though. “Let’s get you funnel cake one.”

“I would riot if you didn’t.”

The funnel cake is as delicious as she thought it would be, and she doesn’t even care that her lips and her fingers are undoubtedly covered in sugar now. She can look like a clown to everyone as long as she keeps getting to eat this pure, sweet sugar.

Even if Eric is a little agitated with her when they get to the restaurant.

“Are you bringing in outside food to my restaurant?”

“Yep.” She pops another piece in her mouth and makes sure to exaggerate her chewing. “And unless you made onion rings today, this is going to be the best thing here.”

“You do know I am an excellent chef, right? And I can make food other than junk food.”

“She has the palette of a child.” Killian gently tugs on a piece of her hair and pulls her in closer. “Don’t try forcing anything else. It’s not worth it. I, however, will take all of the good food you’ve got.”

“And that is why you’re my favorite.”

“Hey,” Ariel grumbles.

“Besides you, obviously.” Eric shakes his head and smiles. “You two go sit down. I have to get back to the kitchen.”

“It’s never going to be as good as this funnel cake.”

“Shut up.”

Emma sticks her tongue out at Eric because she is the height of maturity. Obviously.

She maneuvers out of Killian’s hold and walks to the table, pulling out the chair across from Ruby while Killian sits down next to her.

“Why are you two so late? Did you finally decide to fuck each other?”

The funnel cake she was chewing gets stuck in her throat, and Emma starts coughing, doing anything to try to get air while her cheeks have got to be turning the color of tomatoes.

“Ruby,” Mary Margaret hisses, “there are children around. Don’t use that word.”

“Why? That’s how they got here.”

“Funny, I feel like I’ve already had this conversation today.”

“So, you were fu – sleeping together then? I knew it!”

“We,” Emma breathes out as she still hits her chest, “are not sleeping together. Why is your mind always in the gutter?”

Ruby scoffs and picks up her wine. “My mind is not in the gutter. I’m just saying that you two are both very hot, and you’ve got this whole sexual tension thing going on. We’re all waiting for it to happen. One day you’re just going to show up and tell us that you’re secretly in love.”

Emma rolls her eyes as Killian’s hand falls against her thigh underneath the table. “We are not secretly in love. And we are not sleeping together.”

His fingers inch further up her thigh, and a shiver runs down her spine.

Asshole.

Killian is the better liar than Emma, so, really, he should be the one lying to all of their friends right now. It’s not really a conversation she thought would ever come up, but it’s Ruby: nothing is safe.

“I’ve always thought you two would be a nice couple,” Mary Margaret sighs. “I mean, you were always with Neal, so I never said anything but – ”

“Never said anything? You talk about it all the time, honey.”

“David, that is not true.”

“It is. You love meddling in other people’s business, and since Ruby is, well, Ruby, the only two you really like to plot about are Emma and Killian.”

“Excuse me? Plot?” Killian raises his brow before winking at Emma. “You’ve been plotting about us?”

Mary Margaret’s face is as red as Emma’s was earlier, and if the woman wasn’t at least showing some remorse, Emma would be agitated.

Maybe she still should be, but she’s obviously on some kind of funnel cake high where nothing can piss her off, even having her personal life examined for the second time in one day.

“I have not,” Mary Margaret protests, flustered. “All I want is for you two to be happy! I thought Emma was all settled, and I really wanted someone for Killian. Now, though, you’re both single, so you know…”

Killian’s fingers tickle along her thigh before he squeezes. She really hopes Ariel cannot see underneath the table.

“And Eric says I’m the meddler,” Ariel sighs.

“You are all meddlers,” Emma finally says. “Each and every one of you. You all need hobbies like painting or reading or, hell, crocheting. Anything to keep you occupied so that Killian and I can keep living our lives.”

“Yeah, living your lives totally wrong.” Ruby swishes her wine glass and tilts it toward Emma. “I’m just saying – when, and I do mean when, you two get together, I want a personalized gift and the ability to say ‘I told you so’ as much as I want without reproach.”

“What kind of personalized gift?” Killian asks. “Just so I can prepare for when Emma finally falls for my charms and kisses me.”

Emma laughs and turns to the side, gently pushing Killian’s arm.

Asshole.

Cocky, annoying asshole.

“Please,” she scoffs, “you couldn’t handle it.”

Killian leans in, eyes slanted and lips curled up to the right while his tongue flickers across his teeth. Emma gulps, but she doesn’t blink, even when Killian’s finger hooks inside the hem of her shorts.

“Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.”

Glass rattles as someone smacks the table. “See,” Ruby groans, “just look at all of that untapped chemistry. I feel frustrated just looking at the two of you.”

“Okay,” David squawks, his voice breaking, “please change the subject. There’s only so much of this I can take. It’s like hearing about my little sister’s sex life.”

“See, maybe if you weren’t so overprotective of Emma, it wouldn’t be like that.”

“She’s our friend. I can’t help it if I am. And you’re one to talk, Mary Margaret.”

“What does that mean?”

“We just talked about what it means.”

Killian laughs at their friends bickering before leaning into Emma’s space even more. He never really moved out of it, but she didn’t notice.

“For the record,” he whispers as his nail traces along her skin, “we both know that I can handle it.”

Emma swallows the lump in her throat, and she can suddenly feel her heart beating, faster and faster and faster until she feels it between her ears while she blinks at Killian and tries to form some kind of coherent response.

Where the hell did all of her words go?

“Do you think Eric would hate us if we ordered the pizza?” Ruby asks.

“He just yelled at Emma for bringing in a funnel cake and wanting onion rings, so I think that’s a possibility.”

Killian winks once more and then turns from her so that all she can see is his jawline. “You guys do know this is a seafood restaurant, right? With damn good seafood. He only sells the other things for the tourists. We are not tourists.”

“It’s the fourth of July carnival. We’re all tourists for the night.”

They end up getting the pizza.

Eric is beyond pissed off at it, but absolutely no one cares, especially when Will and Belle walk in and order another one because the first two were completely obliterated. Robin stops by with Roland for five minutes to get food, but then Robin is being dragged off because Roland wants to do go on the spinning tea cups that are set up in city hall’s parking lot.

Emma has eaten so much tonight that she definitely can’t imagine being on anything that spins around.

Especially when Killian still owes her another funnel cake. It’s too bad they don’t keep well in the fridge.

“I have to go make some rounds,” David announces as he stands from the table. “Do we have any other plans for tonight?”

“I have to go back to work,” Ruby says.

“Yeah, me too,” Ariel adds in.

“Belle and I are free.”

“As are Emma and I,” Killian says. “Mary Margaret, what about you?”

“I think I might walk around with David, but do you all want to meet back at your place for the fireworks at ten? I think the roof will be the best place to view them.”

“Sounds perfect, lass. We’ll see you then.”

Belle suggests watching around to work off dinner and see if there’s anything new this year, so they start with the booths on the side of the boardwalk no one has been down yet. It’s emptier because it’s away from all of the rides, but there are plenty of food stalls, a few games, and several booths from small businesses around town. Belle immediately finds a stall selling books for a dollar a piece, and she ends up getting two tote bags that Will grumbles about carrying. Killian buys the one book Belle didn’t snatch up, folds it, and sticks it in the back pocket of his jeans.

Emma swears that Belle nearly has an aneurism over that.

“Hey, look, love.” Killian points over to a booth with balloons pinned to the wall.

“What exactly am I looking at?” He grabs her hand and pulls it in front of them to point back to the booth. “Still not getting it, KJ.”

“The prizes. I think there’s one you might like.”

Emma steps a little closer and then sees it at the very top of the shelf. It’s a giant white swan stuffed animal.

Oh.

Well, yeah, that is kind of cute and very apt for her name, but it’s pointless to look at it. She has no need for a stuffed animal, even if she was thinking about it earlier, and she definitely isn’t about to waste money on it. But it was a nice thought.

“Cute,” Emma laughs as she keeps walking only for Killian to tug on her arm and pull her back. “What? What are you doing?”

His lips curl up. “I’m going to win you that damn swan, Swan.”

She rolls her eyes.

He’s an idiot.

Just…a big idiot, but there’s this feeling in her gut, this dumb one that she hates, that wants him to win her the damn swan. She wants to have that experience she so craved as a child, even if she does still think that games like this are still pointless.

She wants.

In the back of her mind, she thinks back to Neal never even offering to walk around the carnival with her. He always said it was stupid and that he would not be showing up. It was never so much that he wouldn’t come here, but it was more that he was like that with everything that was important to Emma.

How could she be so stupid?

And how could she still feel like she loves him?

Loved him? Definitely loved.

There are no feelings of affection left, not even in memories. She’s just so fucking pissed sometimes.

“Killian, you don’t have to – ”

But he’s not listening to her. Instead, he’s already standing in front of the booth, cash on the table, and darts in his hand.

He pops a balloon on the first try.

“Woah, were did that aim come from?”

“I’d say the Navy, but I think it might be natural talent.”

The guy in the booth rolls his eyes, but Emma doesn’t care. He’s probably dulled the darts and gotten some kind of indestructible balloons to make sure no one wins anything, but as Emma keeps watching, Killian keeps popping the balloons. It takes him several tries and far too much money, especially when Will rejoins them and starts heckling him, but eventually he gets the stuffed Swan from the top of the rack and hands it to Emma.

It’s so dumb.

(But it’s not.)

(Things like this never are.)

Emma holds onto the swan as they keep walking around until she stops and gets something to drink. Then she hands it to Killian, who holds it in his hand that’s draped over Emma’s shoulder so that the damn beak keeps hitting against her cheek as they walk.

“You’re being obnoxious,” Emma laughs as Killian keeps poking the beak against her cheek. “You’re an actual child, Jones.”

“I’ve never said I was mature. It might also be all of the sugar I’ve had today.”

“Having one bite of a funnel cake does not count as having a lot of sugar.”

He pokes the beak in her face one more time before she turns on him so she can see the frankly obnoxious grin he’s sporting.

Maybe that little bit of funnel cake was a lot of sugar for him.

“You know, Swan, I used to think you were kind to me, but that thought is disappearing.”

“Is it now?”

“Mhm.” He wraps the swan around her neck before placing his hands on her hips. Emma glances around, searching for Will and Belle, but they’re nowhere to be seen. When did they run off? “And apparently all of our friends think we have some kind of sexual tension going on, that we’re compatible, and that’s just not true.”

His fingers inch toward her ass, and Emma cranes her neck to try and figure out how long it would take to get to Killian’s place. That’s where they’re supposed to be headed anyway.

“Oh, no, it’s definitely not true. We don’t get along at all. You’re getting a little brave touching my ass right now. I don’t think we can, you know, on the middle of the boardwalk.”

“Well, we could, but then David would arrest us.”

Emma grabs onto his hand and moves it off her ass. “Then let’s not do that. Let’s – ”

Her words die on the tip of her tongue as her gaze falls upon the last person she ever expected to see here.

Neal.

-/-

@qualitycoffeethings @mrtinski @klynn-stormz @scarletslippers @jonirobinson64 @snowbellewells @therealstartraveller776 @thejollyroger-writer @sherifemma @galaxyzxstark @galadriel26 @idristardis @karenfrommisthaven @teamhook @spartanguard @searchingwardrobes @jamif @shireness-says @ultimiflos @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @onepunintendid @bluewildcatfanatic @superchocovian @killianswannn @carpedzem @captainkillianswanjones @mayquita @mariakov81 @jennjenn615 @onceuponaprincessworld @a-faekindagirl @scientificapricot @xellewoods @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @kmomof4 @tiganasummertree @singersdd @tornadoamy @cluttermind @lfh1226-linda @andiirivera @elizabeethan @captain-emmajones @csalltheway @itsfabianadocarmo

#your wonder under summer skies #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #Captain Swan

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ejzah · 4 years

Note

Can u a story about an alternate version of Densi’s wedding where Kirkin’s actual goal all along was to kidnap the groom aka DEEKS. XD

A/N: I know I have others stories waiting, but this one spoke to me. The events of the episode are a little altered to fit the prompt and I’ve excluded the guys that came after Kirkin.

***

“I cannot believe Kirkin actually tried to kidnap me on my wedding day,” Deeks said, shaking his head. He rubbed his eyes with his forefinger and thumb. As if he needed the additional stress.

Callen patted him on the shoulder, consolingly and with surprising sincerity.

“Well, hopefully he got the message,” he said. On the other side of him, Sam shook his head, looking equally amused and annoyed.

“Only you would have a Russian criminal who’s obsessed with you and won’t take no for an answer.” Deeks glared at him.

“I’m glad you find this funny, Sam.”

“Hey, you woke me up in the middle of the night after you broke into my boat. You’re lucky I’m in such a good mood,” Sam said, looking pointedly at Deeks.

“Point taken.” Deeks sighed and scratched at his head, already feeling exhausted. This day was already 20 times more stressful than he’d been expecting. “Well, I’m gonna go to the mission and see if I can find my box.”

“Good luck,” Callen offered, clapping him on the shoulder again. “We’ll meet you at the venue.” As they headed to their cars, Deeks prayed that the excitement was over for the day. He didn’t think his nerves could take anymore.

***

Deeks stared at the ring and letter Kensi had given him, completely overwhelmed. Kensi was somewhere in the building, presumably getting ready with her bridesmaids, and it was taking all his effort not to find her and say to hell with tradition.

He glanced down at his watch and swore under his breath. The guests would be arriving soon and he hadn’t even started to get changed. He grabbed the garment bag with his suit and stripped off his jacket and shirt. There was a slight noise behind him, followed by a horribly familiar voice.

“I see I’ve come at the perfect time.” Deeks yelped and spun around, automatically reaching for his gun, which he belatedly remembered he’d left at work, and covering half his chest with the other.

“Kirkin, jesus, how the hell did you get in here?” he hissed. “And-and more importantly, what are you doing here? Again.” Kirkin just stared for a moment, glancing at his bare chest with a small smirk.

“Maaarty, you must know I will always come for you,” he answered with disturbing sincerity. He sighed deeply, eyes straying back to Deeks chest. “It has been too long since we’ve been together like this.” Deeks took a step back.

“Ok, first of all, that is probably one of the most creepy things you have ever said, which is saying something,” Deeks said, ticking off points on his finger. Callen and Sam would never let him live this down. “Secondly, I specifically told you that I did not need, or want, you to rescue me or whatever the hell you think you’re doing right now. And let me reiterate, this is super creepy.”

Kirkin’s expression turned to one of sympathy, which was even more disconcerting. If that was possible.

“I know, Martin. But it occurred to me that the two of us have never been given a fair chance. Ever since that day we met, there has been something undeniable between us, but we’ve never been given the opportunity to fully explore it.”

“If you’re referring to your complete insanity, then yes, that it definitely between us.” Kirkin tilted his head, reaching out to touch Deeks’ arm with the top of his finger.

“You have always had such a wonderful sense of humor,” he gushed. Deeks rolled his eyes and reached into the pocket of his jeans.

“M’kay, I’m texting my team. You better hope Kensi doesn’t get in on this, because she will pulverize you. And then there’s her five bridesmaids and mom, who have been looking forward to this day for years,” Deeks said, typing as he spoke. Kirkin cleared his throat, slipping his hand beneath his suit jacket to pull out a gun.

“I wouldn’t do that Martin. You are coming with me. Now.”

***

“Hey, have you seen Deeks?” Callen asked, as Nell passed him in the hall, likely on the way to start directing guests.

“Um, no, why?” She turned around, clearly sensing that something else was going on.

“We were supposed to run through his vows with him 20 minutes ago, but he never showed. And now we can’t find him.” Nell’s brows furrowed and she grabbed her phone.

“We’ve already tried calling him,” Sam said. “He didn’t pick up.”

“That’s not a good sign,” she murmured. “But I was actually going to check the security cameras. I can tap into a few and see where he’s been.” She tapped at her phone a bit more, staring at the screen and then after a few minutes, frowned again. “What is Kirkin doing here?”

Sam and Callen immediately crowded on either side of her, watching over her shoulder.

“Oh, that is not good,” Callen muttered, glancing at Sam.

“Ok, you guys need to tell me what’s going on. Like right now,” Nell said, lowering the phone for a moment.

“Kirkin showed up earlier today and tried to “rescue” Deeks,” Sam explained.

“You’re joking.”

“I wish was.” Nell sighed and resumed watching the surveillance feed.

“Well, let’s see where he went. He better not mess this up for Kensi and Deeks or I will kill him. I do not have the patience to wait around while they plan a second wedding,” she said and Callen smirked at Sam over her head.

“Hm, it looks like he went into Deeks’ dressing room. That’s a little creepy.”

“Uh guys,” Eric interrupted, appearing in the hallway with a harried expression. “What’s going on? Guests are starting to arrive, the bridal party is almost ready and they’re wondering where everyone else is at.”

“We think Anatoli Kirkin might have kidnapped Deeks,” Sam explained shortly.

“Are you serious? Why aren’t we doing anything about it?”

“Because you’re still talking.” Sam gestured to Nell’s phone. “Did they come out?”

“Yes...and Kirkin took him, by gun point, to what looks like a lounge at the other end of the building,” Nell said. “So far they’re still in there unless they left through one of the windows.

“Ok, we’ll go retrieve Deeks. And you guys are in charge of making sure that Kensi doesn’t find out anything about this. Got it?” Callen instructed. They both nodded and scurried off.

“C’mon partner, let’s save Deeks from his crazy Russian boyfriend.”

***

“So what exactly is your plan, Kirkin?” Deeks asked, the skepticism clear in his voice. After Kirkin had pulled the gun on him, he’d lead him to a small room, ensuring Deeks’ compliance with the threat of violence if necessary. Part of Deeks thought he was probably bluffing, but he also didn’t want to underestimate him.

“I have my men waiting outside. When the time is right, we will make our escape,” Kirkin replied, clearly pleased with himself.

“Yeah, that’s not going to work. You know that, right? Even if you make it out the door, my team will take you down. There’s no way they haven’t missed me by now.” Kirkin patted him on the shoulder consolingly.

He hadn’t let Deeks put his shirt back on and he was feeling distinctly exposed and...nipply. He retreated to other side of the room and sat down in a small love seat. He’d known something would go wrong and boy had he been right. He felt a grim sense of satisfaction that his intuition had been so on point.

“Don’t worry, Marty, my men will protect us. And then we will be free to be together.”

The door to the room burst open, smacking off the wall as Callen and Sam appeared in the doorway. They were both armed and dressed in their tuxes.

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Sam said darkly. Kirkin reached for Deeks again and Sam moved in on him, pointing his gun directly at his head. “Don’t even think about it.”

Kirkin wisely took a few steps back and dropped his weapon on the ground. Sam kicked it away.

“You ok, Deeks?” Callen asked, frowning as he took in Deeks’ bare chest.

“Well, I was almost kidnapped on my wedding day, we have about 300 guests waiting for me and Kensi to get married and I think I’m on the verge of a panic attack,” he summed up and then blew out a long breath. “No, I’m not doing great.”

“Put your hands behind your back, Kirkin,” Sam ordered.

“Gentleman, I’m sure we can all overlook this small understanding and just go about our business,” Kirkin said in what was apparently supposed to be a charming tone. Sam just shook his head and gestured for Callen to cuff him.

“Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?” Sam asked Deeks eventually.

“Don’t ask,” Deeks told him firmly. Kirkin shot him an appealing look and then sighed.

“I will never forget the first time we met, frolicking naked together,” he said reminiscently. Deeks frowned, wondering what fantasy world the man was living in.

“Ok, that’s not what happened. I was undercover at a Russian bathhouse and I’m sorry to break your heart there, Kirkin, but I was not frolicking because I don’t frolick. I have never frolicked,” he clarified firmly.

“You are a frolicker and you know it,” Kirkin said in what Deeks assumed was supposed to be a seductive tone, leaning towards him.

“This is the worst wedding ever,” Deeks retorted, sitting down again and crossing his arms.

“Guys, what the hell is going on? The ceremony is supposed to start in five minutes,” Kensi said, running through the door, closely followed by a harried looking Eric and Nell. It took her approximately 10 seconds to notice Kirkin. “What the are you doing here?”

“You had one job,” Sam said to Nell and Eric. Nell shrugged, gesturing to Kensi.

“What can I say, she threatened to hurt us if we didn’t tell her where you were,” she explained. Somehow Deeks didn’t think Nell had put up that much of a fight.

Kensi glanced at Deeks and then back at Kirkin, who raised his hands defensively as she descended on him. Dressed in her wedding dress, and with a look of pure fury on her face, she had never looked more beautiful to Deeks. Even though she was unarmed, she was frightening.

“Kensi, you look lovely,” Kirkin tried.

“Kirkin, did you try to kidnap my fiancé?” she asked in a dangerous voice. He took another step backwards.

“Please, you must understand, Kensi. You know how irresistible Martin is. His hair, his muscles. I could not help myself.” Kensi made an incredulous sound and shook her head and shoved Kirkin into a chair.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered. That seemed to be the general consensus.

Callen had moved over to the side and was on his phone. From the sound of it, he was calling in reinforcements. Apparently he and Sam had taken out a Kirkin’s cronies before making their grand entrance.

Kensi sat down next to Deeks and ran her fingers through his hair, looking concerned.

“Are you ok, baby?” she asked, checking him over. He laid a hand over hers, holding it in place and nodded.

“Yeah. I may be about to have a nervous break down, or possibly a stroke, but otherwise, I’m fine.”

“I love you,” she whispered, leaning her head against his. He sighed, leaning into her touch. “Let’s get married.” He grinned at that, feeling content for the first time in hours.

“Let’s get married,” he agreed.

“You should probably put some more clothes on,” Callen suggested with just a hint of a smirk.

“I’ll go help him change,” Eric offered. Kensi linked their fingers as she tugged him up. As they left the room, Kirkin reached towards Kensi with a desperate expression.

“Kensi, don’t hurt him,” he begged. “You know, we could always work something out between the three of us!” Sam jerked him back, not being particularly gentle.

“I’m gonna need a lot of champagne,” Deeks sighed as they left the room, Kirkin being led by Nell and Callen, while Sam brought up the rear.

“Or vodka.” Kensi added.

***

A/N: As creepy as he is, I have so much fun writing Kirkin. Sadly, Hetty didn’t quite fit into this one with the changes to the plot. Some dialogue is pulled directly from “Till Death Do Us Part”.

Thanks for the prompt!

#ncis la fanfiction #densi #marty deeks #kensi blye #sam hanna #g callen #eric beale #nell jones #anatoli kirkin #till death do us part #anonymous prompt #ejzah fanfiction

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