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let-it-raines · 4 years

Note

Prompt - David and Mary Margaret discover this great groupon deal for an autumn leaf changing tour and cabin rental in Vermont, but the catch, it's for 4 people. Enter in the reluctant best friends that can't stand each other. (And you know, the cabin only has 2 rooms)

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-/-

Here’s the thing about Killian Jones: Emma doesn’t hate him.

She really, really doesn’t. Hate is a strong word that she saves for people like Neal and the asshole who took her parking spot and made her lose her skip and her bigger paycheck last week. It’s not a word she uses to describe her opinion of Killian Jones. That would be better described as mistrust or slight animosity or dislike. In the nicest of terms, it could be described as nonchalance and uncaring, maybe a little bit of annoyance, but those are only true when she hasn’t seen him for awhile and has forgotten how annoying he can be.

Right now, annoyance is the exact word she would use to describe her relationship with him, mostly because his appearance was unexpected and unwelcome.

A month ago, Mary Margaret called Emma and told her that she and David won a trip to Vermont for a weekend of walking trails to see the leaves changing. It included free lodging, free dinners, tickets to a farm where you could pick your own apples and pumpkins and sit at their restaurant on the lake and drink the cider brewed at that very farm. It sounded nice, like the plot and setting of a Hallmark movie Emma only watches when she’s at Mary Margaret’s loft, and Emma told Mary Margaret that she hoped they had a good time.

Then Mary Margaret told her the trip was actually for four people, invited Emma and their mutual friend Ruby, and Emma figured why not? Her job has been stressing her out lately, and it’s a free vacation. Who passes up a free vacation?

Ruby Lucas apparently does in order to go to help her grandmother with the catering of a last-minute wedding, and Emma didn’t know about that until she got in the back of David’s truck and saw Killian Jones sitting in the spot that was supposed to be Ruby’s.

She feels cheated.

This was supposed to be relaxing even if it was going to be spent watching David and Mary Margaret be overly affectionate with each other, and now she has to deal with Killian for an entire weekend.

That’s two days and twelve hours too long if she includes today…which she definitely is.

They’ve been in the truck for a little over three hours, which means they should be at the lodge soon, and Emma’s trying to focus on the scenery outside. It’s gorgeous, much more rural than what she’s used to living in the central part of Boston, and from what she’s heard of the lodge and the trails surrounding it, it’s only supposed to get better.

This is good. This can be a good weekend. Maybe she can go off on her own for most of it, and she won’t have to be with Killian or the lovebirds. They’ll be too busy getting lost in each other’s eyes, and he’ll be too busy flirting with every woman around. There’s definitely got to be opportunity for her to go off on her own.

If not, she might fling herself into a pile of leaves and never emerge for air.

And she’ll definitely blame it on Ruby for not telling Emma about her last-minute cancellation.

When they do eventually arrive at the lodge – after thirty minutes of Killian complaining about one of his coworkers – it turns out to look more like a small castle than anything else. It’s made of gray stone and covered in ivy and weeds while still being maintained. There’s a round fountain in front of the entryway, and behind the building, Emma can see the path that leads down to the lake and the hills that are full of trees behind it. Every tree is a different shade of red, orange, green, and yellow, and Emma has never wanted to take a picture of nature so much in her life. She’s about to live out the life of one of those girls on Instagram who only do things for the aesthetics, and for a weekend, she can’t say she minds.

What she does mind, however, is that when David hands her the key to her room, he hands Killian a key to the same room.

The same room as in her room.

Her. Room.

Hers.

“No.”

“Why are you saying no?” David asks, tilting his head in question.

“No, as in no I will not share a room. I thought I was getting my own room.”

“It’s a couple’s weekend, Emma, and I bet you would have been fine sharing a room with Ruby.”

“Yeah, because Ruby’s…”

“Ruby’s not me,” Killian interjects, wrapping his arm around Emma’s shoulder. She tries to shrug it off, but it doesn’t move anywhere. It’s deadweight up there, and Killian has unfortunately turned so he can’t see her death stare. Not that it would have any effect on him. “You see, Dave, it’s just that Emma is wildly attracted to me, and she doesn’t think she’ll be able to contain herself knowing I’m only a few feet away from her, especially when she discovers I sleep in the nude.”

“Oh my God.” Emma moves from underneath Killian’s arm, her strength coming back to her, and moves toward her – their, ugh – door. She turns the key, which is for some reason the old fashioned kind and not a card. “Please stop talking, Jones. I am not wildly attracted to you, and I can handle sharing a room. I’m not a child.”

“See, I knew the lass could do it.”

He winks at her and does this ridiculous eyebrow thing at David, and Emma is seriously considering paying thousands of dollars (she googled this place when they walked inside, and it is not cheap) for her own room.

“We’ll meet you guys in the lobby in thirty minutes, okay? We’re going on a tour of the grounds with our guide and then dinner, so dress for both.”

“When is the hike?” Emma asks, lingering in the doorway.

“Not until tomorrow. I’ll get Mary Margaret to send you the itinerary.”

“She already has. I just haven’t looked at it.”

“I’m not telling her that,” David laughs. “See you soon.”

Emma waves, smiling at David, and turns into the room, dragging her luggage behind her. It doesn’t take long before she’s stopped in her tracks, her sneakers snagging in the carpet, as Killian runs into her back.

“Bloody hell, why’d you stop like that?”

She opens her arm to the bed – singular – in front of them, which would look cozy and soft and all of the good things if she had it all to herself. “If you didn’t bring clothes to sleep in, you’re sleeping in your fucking jeans,” she mumbles before turning toward the bathroom and closing the door behind her.

This is fine.

This is all fine. Emma has been through a hell of a lot worse, and maybe Killian won’t be an ass. Maybe he’ll be the gentleman he always claims to be.

She’s never believed him for a second when he’s said shit like that.

Emma changes out of her leggings and sweatshirt into a pair of jeans and a thick sweater, grabbing her red plaid jacket and a beanie and placing them to the side for when she leaves. She puts on some mascara, a swipe of lipstick, and brushes out her hair. This is as good as it’s going to get, and she doesn’t mind that. Mary Margaret will tell her that tomorrow or whenever they go to the nice dinner that she’ll have to dress up, and Emma is giving herself a break on the makeup until then.

She had to pile it on every night this week for work, and her skin is screaming for a break.

Killian knocks on the door, telling her to hurry up because he has to get ready too, so she takes five extra minutes…out of spite…because she knows it’s just petty enough for it to rub him the wrong way. She doesn’t feel bad about it either. Killian would do the same damn thing.

“You look nice,” Killian tells her when she opens the bathroom door and he’s standing on the wall opposite the bathroom, leg propped up and arms crossed over his chest. His eyes trail up and down her body, and Emma moves out of the doorway. A shiver runs down her spine, but she ignores it.

Definitely, definitely ignores it.

It’s cold up in Vermont, even colder than in Boston, and these old walls aren’t helping.

Killian takes approximately two minutes to get ready, all of which is probably spent getting into ridiculously tight jeans, and then they’re begrudgingly walking to the lobby where David and Mary Margaret are waiting for them already talking to the guide, a peppy woman named Anna who is like the redheaded version of Mary Margaret when Mary Margaret is in one of her “everything is a fairytale” moods.

Anna takes them throughout the property, giving them the history of the place while offering up different amenities that are not included with the package they won but still accessible if they’re willing to pay. There’s a spa, a gym, three different hiking trails, an option to take row boats out on the lake if the weather is nice, and there are two different restaurants on the property. They also offer drivers to several places around town, including the grocery store and the farm they’ll be visiting tomorrow after their hike, and Emma is sure several other things are said. She zones out about halfway through, distracted by the view of the trees and how they’re reflected on the lake. Everything is in an orange glow right now, one that brings comfort to Emma.

She’s always liked sunsets. It’s cheesy and she’d never admit it out loud, but she likes the predictability of them. They don’t always look the same, but they happen every day, even if she can’t see it. She likes that, having that constant. It’s not something she has a lot of, constants that is, and she takes every one she can get.

Maybe this weekend won’t be so bad.

If she says that enough, she just might believe it.

-/-

Dinner is nice.

The food is good, the wine surprisingly good since she was pretty sure it was going to be some funky homemade stuff, and even more surprisingly, the company is great.

When she thinks that, she wonders if the alcohol content in the wine was higher than the server said it was.

All the good thoughts about Killian go away, however, when they’re back in their (still so awful to have to think) hotel room, and Emma is awkwardly sitting on the edge of the bed rubbing lotion on her arms. Killian, thank goodness, is in a pair of plaid pajama pants and a t-shirt, so he’s not even going to attempt to sleep naked.

She was 100% sure that he would try, and she’s honestly kind of sad she won’t get a chance to slap him.

On the cheek.

On his face.

She doesn’t want to slap him anywhere else.

Okay, that wine’s alcohol content was definitely higher than it should have been.

Killian plops down on the bed, the mattress shaking beneath him, and tugs the covers over him. His movements jostle her, and she grits her teeth as she finishes moisturizing. He turns on the TV, puts it on some show she has never heard of, and Emma tries to keep calm. She’s tired. She’s going to fall asleep quickly, and the TV won’t bother her. She falls asleep every night with the TV on, so this is nothing new.

Emma turns down the corner of the bed on her side and slides underneath before flipping the switch for the light. The room darkens except for the TV and the glow of the alarm clock, and Emma closes her eyes. They’ve got a lot to do tomorrow, and she doesn’t want to be walking around wishing she had an IV of coffee to keep her awake.

Slowly, sleep comes for her, tugging at the corners of her eyes, and just as she’s about to succumb to it, the comforter is tugged off of her, leaving her foot exposed to the cold air of the room.

What the hell?

Emma tugs it back, shifting her leg to have it covered, and for a moment, she’s warm. Warm and cozy and not even the too loud laugh track on the TV is disturbing her.

The fact that Killian pulls away the comforter again is, however, disturbing her.

Actually, it really freaking annoys her, so she pulls it back. Hard this time, and Killian grunts in response and rolls over. she feels his foot brush against her calf, and she kicks out, moving him back to his side. It’s only a queen-sized bed, so there’s not a lot of room for them to stay separate. She’s about three seconds away from finding pillows or their suitcases and putting them in between the two of them so he stops encroaching on her space.

And taking her comforter.

Because it’s definitely hers. Just like this room was supposed to be.

Killian wasn’t even supposed to be on this trip. It was supposed to be Ruby, who definitely would have stayed on her side of the bed. Better yet, she probably would have met someone and would be staying with them, and Emma would have this entire bed to herself.

It’s so comfortable that it’s a shame she has to share it. She’s not used to that anymore, and she likes to stretch out.

The comforter moves again, and Emma grips onto it, holding it where she is and tucking it underneath her ass to keep it as steady as possible. At this point, he has to be doing it to annoy her, and Emma is not going to lose this battle.

She’ll stay up all night if she has to.

“You know, Swan,” Killian mumbles, “normally I prefer to do more enjoyable activities with a woman on her back than fight over the covers.”

Emma groans and rolls over on her stomach, pointedly kicking out at him. “Shut up, Jones.”

“If that’s what the lady wishes.”

Emma mutters into her pillow, and for a few minutes, as the blanket stealing calms down and the TV quiets, Emma wonders if she could feasibly fake some sleeping disorder that has her punching Killian in the face all night.

She can be a pretty good actress sometimes. She could probably pull it off.

She doesn’t do that, though, because she eventually falls asleep, one foot sticking out into the cold air.

Damn you, Jones.

-/-

There’s a warm body nears hers.

That’s the first thought Emma has when she wakes up – after thinking of how annoying her alarm sound is. The body warm and solid and a little hairy, and it takes her two seconds to remember where she is and who she’s sharing a bed with. She knew she should have slept on the floor last night because in no world does she want to have her leg pressing up against Killian’s leg and her ass…

“Oh my God,” she murmurs, eyes blowing wide as she turns and moves her body as much as she can. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my Goooooooood.”

“What are you yelling about?” Killian groans, shifting behind her, which only makes it worse.

“I’m not yelling,” Emma hisses. She pushes away and sits up, and there’s no need to even adjust the comforter because none of it is on her. “What are you doing near me?”

He raises his brow, wrinkles on his forehead popping up. Getting a look at him now, she knows the ruffled look he sometimes does with his hair is natural, and for some reason, that really freaking annoys her.

“I was sleeping until you decided to have a conniption.”

“Yeah, well that’s because your dick…oh shit.”

Emma wasn’t going to say that. She really wasn’t, and from the way Killian’s brow is arching higher, she knows that she’s messed up. She’s given him the perfect set up for all of his innuendos, and knowing him, she’s never going to be allowed to live this down.

What a great start to her morning.

“Usually that’s not the reaction, but I understand your shock, love. You weren’t prepared, and it’s, well, a lot to take in.”

“Oh my God, shut up.” She takes the pillow from behind her and smacks him with it as he laughs. He’s getting far too much enjoyment out of this, and she’s wondering how long she would be in jail if she smothered him. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“Make it cold and bracing. I think you might need it.”

“Yeah, I’m not the one with morning wood, but you keep thinking that.” She gets off the mattress and reaches down for her bag. Killian may have unpacked his stuff, but she didn’t bother to do that, even if it means everything is wrinkled. “Please don’t take care of it while I’m showering. That’s just…we have to share the bed, Jones, and I’ve worked in hotels before. I know they don’t always change the sheets.”

He mock salutes, the cheekiest grin on his face, and this is really going to be a long day.

-/-

It’s a long day.

Before she can even get coffee in her, she’s dragged out to the hiking trail. The sun hasn’t fully risen, and they’re supposed to be watching the sunrise and how it matches up with all the changing trees. It’s beautiful. She knows it is, and she does manage to take some pictures that she’s sure capture about half of the beauty. The thing is that despite her best efforts, she didn’t sleep well, and she’s only running on adrenaline and annoyance.

Mostly at Killian.

He’s been staring at her all morning, a joke on the tip of his tongue about their morning, and he’s started to make them several times before Emma shoots him a look or elbows him in the stomach. Mary Margaret has given Emma several funny looks, and if she wasn’t so wrapped up in David and the romance of the changing leaves and the sunrise, she’d probably ask about it.

Mary Margaret is not one for subtlety or staying out of someone else’s business.

David guides them over the trail, which is somehow all uphill despite no discernible incline, and eventually the come to a perch with a few of the lake and the lodge, miles of trees surrounding it. Emma doesn’t think she’s ever seen anything quite like it, and now she can truly see why so many people travel here just to stare at some trees.

“It’s something isn’t it, Swan?” Killian asks as he walks up behind her, the heat of his body making the chill of the air fade for a moment.

“Yeah, it’s beautiful.”

“I didn’t think looking at trees would be your thing. I don’t take you as much of a nature person.”

Emma turns to face him and crosses her arms over her chest. “You don’t know me well enough to know if I’m a nature person or not.”

He steps closer, invading her space like he always does, and maybe she’s a bit of a liar when she says he doesn’t know her. “Just who are you then, Swan?”

Emma cocks her head and straightens her back, not letting him overwhelm her. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He smiles and nods, lashes fluttering until his eyes are hooded. “Perhaps I would.”

“We better get moving if we want to make it to the apple orchard on time,” David tells them, making Emma jump away from Killian and smooth down her flannel over her stomach. “You okay? You look flushed.”

“Just the walk,” Emma lies. “I’m sure that’s all.”

-/-

“I will throw this apple at your head.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Emma groans, audibly, and plucks another apple from the tree and puts it in her basket. It’s getting a little heavy, and not in a million years could she eat all these apples before they spoil. They’re not for her, though. They’re for the farm and its cider and pies and tarts and all the other apple goods they make. She must admit that it’s a brilliant business plan, having people pick the apples for you and then make them pay for it and the food and drinks.

She can’t believe people actually pay to do this. The hike, she gets, foraging for your own food, not so much.

Emma picks an apple out of her basket, one that kind of looks gross and a little squished, and she tosses it at the back of Killian’s head. It hits, just barely, and she stops as he reaches up to touch his hair.

“What is wrong with you?” he hisses, turning around to glare at her.

“You’re the one who has spent the last ten minutes being invasive to my personal life, so what’s wrong with you?”

“Asking if you were still seeing Graham Humbert is not invasive.”

“It is definitely invasive.”

Killian’s shoulders shrug, and he steps closer to her. Really close, actually. He does this obnoxious thing where he’s always encroaching on her space when he speaks, swaying closer and dipping his head down until their eyes are level. He’s doing that now, obnoxious, downright cocky grin gracing his lips, and Emma backs away, dodging some low-hanging apples, until her back is against the tree and she’s putting her basket on the ground. She really hopes there aren’t ants crawling all over her, but at this point, she’s too distracted to care.

For every inch that she moved, Killian matched her. And now, he’s more in her space than ever, the heat of his body warming her more than her jacket. How is he that damn hot?

Only in the temperature sense…not in the other way. She is obviously still a little tipsy from the wine last night that she still maintains had a higher alcohol content than usual.

He chuckles, and his eyes look at her before glancing down at her lips. It’s not even a quick glance. It’s pointed, and Emma knows she was meant to notice it.

“Please,” Emma huffs, “you couldn’t handle it.”

He doesn’t even flinch. “Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.”

She wants to say something back, some smart, snide remark that will make him frustrated, but she also wants to prove him wrong. Emma doesn’t care what anyone else has to say, and she’s heard all the rumors. Kissing Killian Jones is not going to have an effect on her.

So she grabs the lapels of his coat and pulls him forward until his mouth is on hers and Emma’s head is pressing into the back of the tree. The bark scratching the back of her neck would be uncomfortable if she wasn’t so focused on Killian. He’s not kissing her back, his lips rigid against her, and she’s just about to pull back and give him shit over being a horrible kisser when he moves. His hand comes to her hair, yanking on the strands as he tilts her head the way he wants it, and his prosthetic rests at her waist. Every thought she had about him being stiff was wrong.

She’s never felt anyone move like this.

She’s also had some pretty damn good kisses in her life, but she can’t remember the last time one took her breath away and made heat curl over her skin as soft lips moved over her and slightly rough stubble scratched against her skin, likely leaving her red.

Emma can’t remember the last time she was kissed well, and damn, what a shame that is.

She could get used to that.

But she knows that’s a dangerous thought, and this is a dangerous game she’s playing. If she’s bringing cards to the table to play, she has to be open to the possibility that she can lose her hand.

Emma isn’t open to that right now.

So, she pulls back, just barely though, and tries to catch her breath as Killian does the same. He’s panting, and in any other circumstance, the sound would be like heaven to her, a strong indication of what’s to come next. Not in this one, though, and when Killian moves in, she pulls away.

“That was,” he begins, seemingly trailing off in a search for the words to describe what just happened.

She doesn’t know either, but it doesn’t take her long to figure out what she wants to say.

“A one-time thing,” she finishes, knowing she has to say it as she looks at him and the flush of his cheeks. “I’m going to find David and Mary Margaret. Don’t follow me. Wait five minutes and...” she glances down toward his jeans “…calm down.”

He mockingly bows, same smug smile she’s used to back on his lips. She knows how they feel now, and that feels wrong.

“As you wish, milady.”

-/-

The late afternoon lunch (or is it early dinner considering the time?) is awkward as hell. They’re sitting at a small, supposedly cozy table in the midst of the most romantic patio ever created (think of all the string lights in the world and then double it) with wine and cider in their glasses and good food on the table in front of them.

Emma wants to run away.

She can’t.

It really freaking sucks.

And it doesn’t help that Killian keeps looking at her with these big blue eyes that she doesn’t normally see. He looks earnest almost, and she doesn’t think Killian Jones has been earnest a day in his life.

Then again, how much does she know?

“Oh, this is so romantic,” Mary Margaret sighs. “I’m so glad we won this trip.”

“Does romance include two of your mates sitting at the table with you?” Killian asks. “Dave was playing footsy with me earlier we’re so cramped in here.”

“Was that you?” David hisses, cheeks going red, and Emma starts to laugh. That’s the best thing she’s heard all day.

“Yes, it is romantic even with you and Emma here. And with David somehow mistaking your leg with mine.”

“In my defense, Killian’s calves are only a little bigger than yours, sweetheart.”

“I’m not sure whether to be flattered or insulted.”

“Flattered, of course,” Killian says. “I have bloody fantastic legs. Ask Swan here. She felt them up last night.”

Emma kicks out her foot at Killian under the table, not one hundred percent sure she’s actually hitting his leg, but then she sees the slight wince. Gotcha.

“So, what are we doing after this?” Emma asks to change the subject. “Another hike? More apple picking? Second dinner?”

Mary Margaret sighs, “a carriage ride back to the hotel, but they’re going to take us the scenic route.”

“Of course they are,” Emma mutters, stabbing her food and stuffing it into her mouth. She’s going to need more wine.

-/-

The carriage ride is worse than the dinner. For one, the horses smell horrible, much worse than the food, and the carriage is somehow smaller than their table. She’s pressed completely up against Killian, their sides aligned, and he has his arm over her shoulder while they share a blanket. She tried to refuse, but it’s gotten really cold. Her nose and her fingers are going to fall off soon, and she’s as zipped up as she can be.

David and Mary Margaret practically make out across from them, and even though Emma knows more about their sex life than she would ever want to know, sitting his close to it as a horse drags them along the road is not something she’s comfortable with.

“Make it stop,” she murmurs into Killian’s shoulder, half to keep her from having to look at David and Mary Margaret but mostly to keep her nose warm.

“I’m afraid we have to ride this one out, love. If you want, we could share our own kiss…again.”

She hits his thigh underneath the blanket. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Whatever helps you sleep through the night.”

-/-

She doesn’t sleep through the night.

She’s too aware of her surroundings, of the warm body a few inches from her own.

It’s all too much, even if he didn’t try to steal the covers tonight, and if she wasn’t so damn stubborn, she’d sleep on the floor. She told herself she would do that tonight, but now it feels like admitting defeat.

Emma doesn’t like to admit defeat.

-/-

They go for another hike the next morning, their last morning in Vermont.

Emma sticks next to David the entire time, asking him mundane questions she doesn’t care about just to keep the conversation flowing and to keep Killian from making any jokes she doesn’t want him to make. It works, mostly, and Emma is even able to enjoy herself and the view for a lot of it. Boston can be gorgeous, but she’s going to miss a lot of this.

It’s the picture perfect dream, but Emma knows perfection doesn’t exist. And in pictures, it’s almost always photoshopped.

Doesn’t make it any less stunning as she stares out at it all, and it doesn’t make her want the picture perfect dream any less. The one where she isn’t so scared of getting hurt again and where she lets herself have fun, lets herself feel safe.

Lets her heart in on the decision making with her head.

-/-

Emma sleeps on most of the car ride back to Boston, and when she wakes up, it’s with a sore neck and tired eyes. It’s also in front of her apartment. She thanks the Nolans for the weekend, and very slowly, it dawns on her that Killian is no longer in the car. They must have dropped him off first, and she doesn’t know why, but it stings a bit that she doesn’t get to say goodbye to him as well.

That’s the lack of sleep talking, obviously.

Emma would never miss saying goodbye to Killian because that would mean she was going to miss his presence. She wouldn’t do that, though. Of course not. Because she didn’t have a good time when he was around. He didn’t make her smile at all this weekend.

He never makes her smile at all.

If Emma was using her own superpower to detect lies, there would be a blaring red light over her head with a little bell blaring in her ears.

She is ignoring it in favor of stuffing everything about this weekend in her bag and not looking into it. It was pretty. Nice pictures were taken, good food was had, and nothing else happened.

(Ding, ding, ding.)

-/-

Life returns to normal. She goes to work, goes to the gym, is occasionally dragged out to bars and clubs with her friends on the nights she isn’t working.

(She does finally get that guy from two weeks ago, and the paycheck is worth the struggle.)

Killian is around a lot more than he usually is. He’s in school getting his degree in software engineering on some scholarship he got from his service in the Navy, and he usually bartends at night. That job fizzled out, though, so when they all have pizza night or go out or meet up for lunch, he’s usually there.

Emma finds it odd, but she doesn’t mind.

She doesn’t pay much attention to him because she’s making a conscious effort specifically not to pay attention to him, not until he misses a fantastic opportunity to make an innuendo, and she realizes he hasn’t been making a lot of those lately. They’re there, sure, but not in as high of a quantity as they usually are.

It’s weird, but the weirdest thing about it all is how much she misses them.

Huh.

When did that happen?

When did the flirting stop annoying her and start making her laugh? When did she start liking it?

Liking him?

The thought comes to her without true warning and without permission. It’s wiggled its way out of the deep caverns of her mind and made it to the surface, gasping for air so it can live out in the open. She has a physical reaction to it, her hands coming to cover her mouth as she inhales a deep breath that has everyone looking away from the TV to look at her.

“You alright?” Ruby asks from her spot on David and Mary Margaret’s couch.

“I’m fine,” Emma lies, knowing her friends won’t push her further. They’ve known her long enough to know not to do that too often. “Just need some water.”

She gets up from her chair and walks toward the kitchen, her mind running faster than Usain Bolt, and she tries to focus on pouring herself a glass of water and on the football game that’s on. She doesn’t even really like football, but it’s kind of a fall tradition around here. She just has to go with it.

Everything is fine. This is fine.

This is…this is crazy. It’s even crazier that she can’t tell if her body is experience fear, joy, or some insane mixture of both bottled up with all of the adrenaline it can muster.

“You sure you’re alright, love?” Killian asks as he walks into the kitchen puts his plate in the sink. Of course he followed her in here. He, unlike Ruby, Mary Margaret, and David, has no qualms about bothering her. “You look a bit flushed. You’ve gone red around your cheeks.”

“Fine,” she lies again. “I’m fine.”

If she says that word enough, it’ll be true.

“Are you certain because I – ”

“Why don’t you flirt with me anymore?” she blurts before she can stop herself. She must be going crazy because this is insane. Who has taken over her body, and can she get it back please? Preferably before she does something stupid like kissing him again.

Then again, that wasn’t all stupid. It felt pretty damn good.

Killian arches his brow, his forehead wrinkling, and she knows she’s about to get some dumbass answer. He scratches behind his ear with his prosthetic. “Because if I’m to win your heart Emma, as I’d like to, I’d like to do it in a way that doesn’t piss you off, as much as I do love that. It’s quite entertaining for me, especially when you go red as you are now. It’s a becoming color on you, but I realize my methods of getting your attention were a bit childish.”

Well, okay then. Maybe not a dumbass answer.

This is a weird, weird few minutes.

“Are you trying to tell me you’ve been doing the adult equivalent of pulling pigtails on a playground?’

He shrugs. “Aye, I guess.”

Emma, once more, doesn’t know what to do or say, so she lets instinct drive her. She steps forward and places her hand on his shoulder, looking him dead in the eye. They’re ridiculously blue, and it’s just not fair. “Asking me to dinner would have worked much better than that. Food has always been the way to my heart, especially if it’s cheap, greasy, and will make my stomach hurt afterward.”

She leaves the ball in his court (or in his possession on the field since they’re watching football and her sports metaphors should make sense, and she’s 82% sure that’s a correct metaphor), and walks away before being pulled back by her wrist until she’s looking at him again.

Once more, he’s earnest, and she’s still getting used to that.

And those blue eyes. Those too. They don’t have to be all devilish all the time.

“Would you like to go to dinner with me, love?” Killian asks, hopeful, kind smile on his face.

Genuine. He’s genuine, and she feels that little flutter that she hasn’t felt in awhile, not since she kissed him against the apple tree to prove a point to herself that she wouldn’t be affected by kissing him.

Emma really is a bad liar, especially when she’s lying to herself.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

#leaves are changing (and maybe he is too)#cs prompts #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #cs fanfiction #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan fanfiction #captain swan #wellhellotragic

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ladyhallen · 4 years

Text

Tell My Love The Secret

Read on AO3

“I can’t believe you’re the same woman I met in the bar last night,” Reborn remarked, surprised but so delighted by it that it made her wary.

Harry rolled her eyes at the ridiculous man, hands gripping a Flame-powered gun. She checked it automatically and holstered it on her thigh. It did not escape her notice that his eyes follow her every move.

“Why?” she asked, finally looking at him properly. His fedora was the only thing in the room not dirty or stained with blood. There’s blood trickling out of his mouth and dripping down his chin that’s steadily abating and a wicked smile on that mobile mouth. “Because I drank fruity margarita’s and complained about vodka to you?”

He laughed. It’s a deep and rasping thing that sent shivers down her spine. Harry does her best to ignore it.

“Because you looked more the type to go on seduction missions than shoot-outs,” he said.

Well. Point.

Harry had been wearing a slinky little dress that had a long-ass slit on the side, an almost see through back and dangerous red heels. She had been so uncomfortable though that she had been surprised no one else noticed. For all her life choices, she blamed Fred and George. For that dress, she blamed Ginny Weasley.

Harry blushed at the memory. “I don’t usually wear dresses like that. I lost a bet.”

Reborn still looked amused.

“Anyway,” she said loudly, changing the subject so obviously that her inner Hermione cringed. “What were you doing here? This can’t have been a rescue mission?”

“Infiltration – “ he starts to say.

Harry snorted without wanting to. “Sorry. It’s just the thought of you being subtle just breaks my brain.”

He rolls his eyes. “Let me finish. My partner was caught infiltrating and had to run, so she couldn’t finish getting intel. They sent me here to finish the job instead.”

And by Merlin’s beard did he finish it.

The boss is unconscious and tied up, all the bodyguards dead and no one the wiser. She didn’t know how he had managed to not alert anyone at all, but he did and she is so impressed.

“I’m impressed. Why are you sitting on the mini-bar counter though? There are chairs right there?” she asks.

His face looks serious though his eyes twinkle with mischief. “Aesthetic,” he deadpans.

She’d expected injuries, or unstable chairs or even unstable flooring because he’d shot them. She did not expect that answer.

Harry starts laughing. It’s an unexpected and completely uncontrollable thing but she rolls with it, because by Merlin, she is forgetting what it feels like to laugh with abandon.

Reborn smiles at her, a genuine thing that tells her he appreciates the sound of it.

“You have a beautiful laugh,” he says. “I didn’t hear it clearly in the bar last night, what with the music. You should laugh more often.”

A blush starts rising up her cheeks unbidden. Harry is aware enough to know that she’s flustered. It’s embarrassing. She can’t remember the last time she is so flustered.

“You ridiculous man,” she splutters. “Stop that. We have to clean up before whatever you did wears off.”

Reborn checks his watch. “Not for another two hours. I was very thorough.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

Harry ignores him as best as she could and starts wiping surfaces for prints and residues. Flame powered guns are an amazing weapon, but the residue it leaves is unique and there are only a handful of famiglia’s in the world that uses it.

“You are though,” Reborn continues, voice a little farther into the room and closer to where the Boss’s computers are located. “Beautiful I mean. And it’s not just when you were wearing that dress. You’re beautiful like that too.”

Harry stumbles over the broken leg of a chair. The blush that never really went away comes back with a vengeance. She turns to look at him and gets an eyeful of that devastating smile. It ought to be weaponized.

“I-“ she stutters. She has not stuttered since third year. Harry wants to die, but she also wants to continue talking to him, heaven knows why. It must be that confidence that she wants to burrow into and wear like a blanket.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he says. “I still have time before I report in. Coffee?”

If that isn’t an excuse to pry who she works for, she’d eat her gun. That should be her first thought. She had to be wary. Her mouth runs away with her and says, “I like tea better, but alright. How does ten tomorrow morning sound?”

Harry bites down on her tongue, the traitorous thing.

His smile is a soft, private thing that makes the heat on her cheeks feel scorching. “Heathen. Coffee heretic. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.”

Reborn didn’t touch her in that entire exchange, except to shove her down to avoid a hail of bullets and a chair tossed in her direction. Before they part ways, he tucks in a stray curl of hair behind her ear, so close that she could feel the heat of him.

“Good night, stellina,” he whispers before leaving.

Harry takes in a large breathe of air and tries not to faint with the amount of blood rushing to her cheeks.

“How is Florence?” Hermione asks.

Harry feels warm at the sight of her friend, curls brilliant and eyes shining with wit. She’s the very picture of health, not the broken woman that had gone with her once she’d announced leaving England.

“It’s nice,” Harry says. “There was actually another person after the information already, so we were a bit too late. They tied up everything.”

Hermione’s smile goes down a notch, a furrow appearing in her brow. “Anyone we know? Rival famiglia?”

The word still sounds awkward in her friends mouth. Harry didn’t blame her, the language still tripped her up in the most inopportune moments.

“His name is Reborn,” Harry says and sees Hermione blanch. “I know that he usually contracts with the Vongola.”

Rapid typing happens, along with green lightning making Hermione’s hair bushier. Harry wants to cringe at the stress she’s causing her friend.

“Vongola is actually cleaning up their act since Decimo took over,” Hermione explains, still pale. “But Harry. Reborn. He’s…um. He’s the World’s Greatest Hitman.”

Harry could feel her eyebrows going up, and she should be alarmed that she has a coffee date with a man that has such a legendary title.

What does occur to her is “Hermione, how do they know?” she blurts out. “Do they have meeting and ask how many people they kill or something?”

Hermione doesn’t look so pale, not when she looks like she wants to strangle Harry. “Potter, that is not the point here.”

Harry waves a hand. “No really, how do they know?”

Green lightning sparks again, this time a bigger thing that actually turns Hermione’s hair faintly green. Harry gulps at the belated realization that Hermione really wants to strangle her.

“Sorry,” Harry apologizes. “He was very nice in the bar last night and he didn’t actually try and stop me when I went to pull what you wanted form their computers.”

A look crosses Hermione’s face, too blurry for her to decipher and not staying that long anyway.

“Nice,” Hermione deadpanned. “The World’s Greatest Hitman was nice to you. You were wearing that dress weren’t you? The one Ginny picked out when her scores in the Shoot Score Board surpassed yours in accuracy last week?”

Harry’s silence is answer enough, as is her blush, even if it likely could not be deciphered clearly on Hermione’s end.

“Harry, why are you so attracted to dangerous things? Is it the adrenaline rush?” Hermione sighs. “Never mind, don’t answer that. Try to stay away from him when you check-out of the hotel tomorrow, okay?”

The screen cut off and Harry is left alone in the darkness of the hotel room before she could tell her best friend that ‘actually, the man you want me to avoid asked me to a coffee date and I said yes’.

Harry stifled slightly hysterical laughter into her pillow.

Harry doesn’t tell anyone about the coffee date, or how it turned out.

Reborn had been so charming and his sense of humor making her laugh so hard that she’d agreed to another possible meeting without too much reluctance. She had wanted to say no, to stop what path they were stepping on. A more rational part of her had argued that they could just stay contacts, no matter how attractive he was. The rest of her wanted to see him again, because he made her laugh and feel respected.

Harry buries that coffee date under weariness and cold indifference. She does not want anyone at their small organization to notice that she feels like she could fly without a broom.

Ginny greets her at the airport with a shit eating grin and a pot of tea.

“Merlin’s blessed pants,” Harry sighs, gulping down properly made tea. No one made tea like Ginny.

“Yes, I am amazing aren’t I?” Ginny says, reaching down and grabbing Harry’s luggage. “Now, a little birdie told me that you really did wear that dress I got for you. Evidence, my dear.”

Harry had almost forgotten the mortification of wearing a dress that had a see-through back. She regrets her choice of friends so much.

“Ginny,” she groans. “Haven’t I suffered enough? I had to infiltrate misogynist assholes in that dress. I wanted to have three million showers afterwards.”

The redhead looks sympathetic but still amused. “So you did wear it. You know, all I wanted to hear was a sorry.”

Harry raises her eyes upwards in a plea for help. “Ginevra, I was drunk when I declared I could outshoot anyone in our organization. Why do you do this to me?”

Ginny laughs wickedly. “Because I love you and I want you to get laid. It’s been months since the last one, my dear. It’s not healthy to repress yourself.”

Inadvertently, Harry remembered Reborn’s parting kiss to her cheek. It had been a chaste thing but she had felt it sear her like a brand. She feels the blush rising and hopes to whatever god is watching that Ginny does not notice.

Her hopes are in vain because the redhead takes one look at her face and outright cackles. “Holy shit. How hot were they?” her eyebrows waggle and Harry gives up and covers her face with her hands.

“Come on, Harry~” Ginny singsongs. “Tell me everything!”

Regret. So much regret.

At the end of the war, Harry had felt so cold, so empty and so tired that she’d envied Voldemort. Wherever he was, however his soul was, at least he was already at rest.

It didn’t help that Ron was gone too, taken down when he’d decided to stay behind with his brothers while Harry and Hermione had gone on to the Shrieking Shack to find Nagini. Hermione had never been the same ever since.

Deciding to leave England had been the best decision she’d ever made. Telling Hermione had been a stroke of luck, an accident but a happy one given that Hermione didn’t even hesitate in agreeing to go with her.

A month in Italy, while still smarting from the war and mostly confused now that the Prophecy had been fulfilled, George and Ginny joined them, having tracked them with a hare-brained invention. (It had been an invention that was so alarmingly efficient that Harry was momentarily grateful that both of them weren’t as evil as Voldemort.)

Amidst the ruins of their lives, trying and failing to pick a destination outside of Italy and England, the four of them just….decided to put roots and never leave instead.

“I have another mission for you,” Hermione declares during breakfast.

Harry blearily blinks through the steam from her tea and tries to wake herself up faster. Having Hermione shoving folders at your face needed more brainpower than she could manage at six in the morning.

“Hmph? Mission? I just got back,” Harry clearly says with great effort.

Hermione pushes away Harry’s hash browns and scrambled eggs and plops the folder in front of her. “I just need you to go meet a contact. All you need to do is drop a package.”

Harry cradles her mug protectively in case Hermione got it in her head to take it away too. “What about Ginny?” she asks. Because the redhead, being the baby of the group, tended to be sent on relatively low-risk missions. Ginny hates it, but while Harry sympathizes, she also has immense respect for George Weasley in a temper.

“She’s meeting suppliers for George’s things in R&D. He’s improving the Flame Powered guns so that you wouldn’t have to use a cleaning charm every time you fire one,” is the prompt response.

It would save Harry so much trouble if George succeeded.

With a sigh, Harry downs her mug without wincing at the heat and stumbles to the bathroom.

“We need to have a vacation,” Harry calls out. “And you better schedule me one before I start pranking people, Granger.”

“Harriet Potter, don’t you dare!” Hermione calls back. “I know where you sleep!”

Harry pokes her head out of the bathroom door, intent on saying the last word. “I know where you sleep, that’s not much of a threat my dear.”

She closes it to Hermione’s sigh of exasperation.

The next time they meet, Harry isn’t helping Reborn take down an entire group of Mafioso or wearing a slinky dress in a bar. Instead, Harry is shelving books in a local library in Spain and eavesdropping in a conversation between two mafia groups.

It’s a fascinating conversation and she is so grateful that she’s gotten into the habit to record everything. Decoding it is going to be difficult and she’s half dreading the sleepless nights. Then, a hand clamps down on her shoulder and it takes everything in her to not flip him over her shoulder. Instead, she’d gone stiff.

“You’re putting those books in the wrong shelves,” the familiar deep voice comments. “I’m pretty sure they’re using the DD Classification.”

Harry turns to him with a scowl, trying to calm her beating heart.

“What are you doing here?” she whispers.

His smile does nothing to calm her down. He still wore the same fedora, but no suit jacket in sight, just a crisp white shirt with a yellow tie, sleeves rolled up his forearms. He was so distracting that it was unfair.

He raises an eyebrow. “That’s my question. You’re in my territory now, stellina.”

Harry drops the books on the shelf and sigh. Her cover is blown anyway. “My boss has a significant interest in how this meeting will turn out,” she says reluctantly. “Several of our clients are willing to pay gold to know.”

Reborn stops looming in her space and the significant lack of it made her want to sigh in relief. No matter how handsome, Reborn is intimidating.

“So, no assassination?” he clarifies. “Good to know.”

Harry pouts at him. “I don’t do wet work. I just infiltrate. You’re the only one who keeps noticing me.”

The look he gave in response to that told her that he remembers how they first met. Harry blushes.

“Special circumstances,” she defends herself. “I didn’t know you were already there assassinating them. I just wanted a go at their computers.”

“Ah,” he says. “Hence why you were dressed like a maid then. You are pretty good, I wouldn’t have noticed until you helped me and pulled out your gun.”

Harry had the gun as insurance. Even if she didn’t do assassinations, Hermione wanted her to be safe and magic was out of the question, hence the gun.

“You still didn’t answer my question, you know?” she whispers. His presence is distracting for a lanky man. Harry refused to lose her head around him.

“What question?” he murmurs. His dark eyes are concealed under the shadow of his fedora and what she can see from his face was blank. But his hands are steady and gentle on her shoulders.

“What you’re here for,” she clarifies. “It’s not assassination, is it?”

He smiles at her and vanished behind a few bookshelves. Harry wanted to groan. He was the most infuriating man she had ever met, and she had gone to school with Draco Malfoy.

“Infuriating,” she hisses under her breath. He’s so lucky he’s hot.

He had distracted her and Harry only has the first half of the meeting in her recorder. What calms her temper is the lily on top of her books, very clearly not there previously.

She hides her smile behind her scarf, and continues shelving books.

Harry is climbing up the building with ingenuity and sheer nerve.

Yes, she knows it’s crazy to climb up the fiftieth floor with just a rope, but the files she needs are in there and she has a parachute.

Harry still curses the day the four of them all promised to stop using magic. It had hurt at the start but they’d gotten used to it. Still, times like these when she’s climbing up a tower, she dearly missed magic.

By the thirty eighth floor, a window opens and a hand grabs her, pulling her in effortlessly.

“Are you insane?” Reborn hisses. He looks shocked and his eyes are wide.

Harry breathes for a second. Yes, she had nerve, but that was still terrifying.

“No,” she says curtly. “Well, maybe. But I need to enter the fiftieth floor and it’s too heavily guarded for me.”

He squeezes her hand. “Why are you like this?” he sighs. “I’ll help you out. So you don’t die.”

She smiles at him impishly. “I wouldn’t die, I have a parachute.”

“That doesn’t make it better!!” he says with a groan. “You better not tell anyone I’m helping you.”

With his help, they she manages to infiltrate the office without climbing outside the building for the rest of the twelve floors. Instead, she used the stairs. Like a normal person. How novel.

When they part ways, Harry thanks him with a kiss.

“Minx,” he tells her fondly.

“You love it,” she says, before leaping out of the window and pulling out her parachute.

The gig is up, however, when Harry is relaxing in their headquarters and suddenly gets a feeling of foreboding.

“Harry,” says Hermione in that voice. “Why did we receive a letter of alliance from Vongola Decimo asking specifically for your attendance?”

Harry gulped, debated on running away and found herself held in place by Ginny’s hand on her shoulders.

“Yes, Harry,” the red-head said with a wicked smile. “Tell us all about it.”

Fanfic.net is still on timeout until it fixes that issue where I upload a fic and people are messaging me that apparently, my fic was deleted???

#fanfiction #harry potter #katekyo hitman reborn #khr #reborn #crossover #genderbend #spy au #hpxkhr #hpxreborn

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nightshade-minho · 4 years

Text

-Nightmare- (6)

Warnings: You’ll lowkey want to slap both Minho and Y/n for being oblivious idiots

Over the next few days, things went by as normal as they could. Out in public, the two of you held hands, kissed cheeks and foreheads and went on fake dates. By the time Saturday rolled around, almost everyone on campus was aware of your relationship.

It was a dreary morning. You sat in your room, watching a movie on your laptop as you munched on some strawberries. You could very well watch said movie in the living room- but you didn’t want to run into Minho. When in private, the two of you now barely said a word to each other.

Meanwhile, Minho didn’t know what to do. He wanted to apologize to you, but he never got the chance to. As soon as the two of you reached home, you would immediately walk into your room and slam the door shut.

He knew he had been an asshole, but he’d also gotten used to you forgiving him easily. He knew he deserved every bit of anger that you were directing towards him.

He was sitting on the sofa, scrolling mindlessly through his phone when he received a call. He checked the caller ID and realized it was Mera. Frowning, he answered it and pressed it to his ear.

“What the fuck do you want?” He sighed.

“Are you actually dating that skank? For real?”

He felt anger boil in him. “Don’t fucking call her that. She’s my best- I mean, girlfriend. If you’re just jealous and sore that you can’t have my dick anymore, there are plenty of other guys here that would be willing to fuck you. So leave me alone.”

She tsked. “Always so hot-headed. This isn’t a booty call, I’m just calling you so that I can warn you.”

“Warn...me...?”

“Yes. You haven’t always been very nice to me, but god you were good at fucking.”

He sighed, frustrated.

“Rina’s still pretty mad at you. She’s also desperately trying to prove that Y/n’s not your girlfriend. You two seem pretty genuine to me, but she’s convinced that you’re faking it...which is why she invited you and Y/n to her party.”

Fuck. He’d completely forgotten about the stupid party she’d invited them to.

“How exactly..?”

“I don’t know. Just be careful. Bye.”

She cut the call, and Minho grunted in annoyance as he walked over to your room, knocking.

You looked up from your laptop, frowning. You elected to ignore it, but then the knocks grew so loud that you pushed the bowl of strawberries aside, opening your door with an exasperated expression on your face.

He sighed. ‘Look, I know we’re not exactly on good terms right now. But, we have a crisis. I think Rina’s onto us.”

You exasperation melted away, replaced by confusion. “What? How?”

He explained what Mera had told him, watching as your expressions contorted.

“Can’t we just...not attend the party?”

“Are you mad? I go to every party. She would immediately realize that something’s up. We have to attend. We just have to be extra alert, okay?”

You sighed, rubbing your forehead, letting out a tired ‘Okay.’

He exhaled, shoving his hands in his pocket. “I’m sorry, Y/n. I really am. I don’t have any excuses. You’ve been doing nothing but help and I’ve just continued being a complete dickhead...”

You shook your head. “It’s fine.” You went to close the door. “Which time should I get ready?”

“About 10? And wait-”

You closed the door in his face. He groaned.

***

You didn’t come out of your room till about 9:45. Minho was still in his sweatpants when you came out, nonchalantly fluffing up your hair.

He groggily looked up, eyes widening when he saw you in your grey graphic halter-top and black ripped jeans. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out, opting to just stare instead.

You turned around, your eyes landing on him, eyebrows knitting in confusion. “Why aren’t you dressed yet?”

Minho cleared his throat as he tore his eyes away from you and stood. “I like being fashionably late. Also, where’d you get your outfit from? I’ve never seen you wear anything like that before.”

You shrugged. “Back of my closet. You were the one who told me that I had to match your aesthetic more, right?.

He nodded. “Well, you look hot.”

“Thanks.” You grinned.

He gave you an awkward smile before going to his room, finding a random grey turtleneck and leather jacket to throw on. He came back out, watching as you sat on the sofa, tapping your foot as you waited. There it was again...that feeling.

He grabbed his car keys, walking to the door. You looked up when you heard his footsteps, heart thumping at how good he looked. But then again, it wasn’t really anything new.

***

When you reached Rina’s sorority house, you grimaced at the loud music blasting through the speakers. There were people making out even on the lawn, and the place was fully packed. You fought the urge to cover your ears and curl up into a ball on the floor. Glancing at Minho, you rolled your eyes at how he looked completely at ease. This was his habitat, after all.

You stayed by Minho’s side, silent as he was continually greeted by a lot of people you barely knew. You recognized Chan and Jisung, but none of the others. Soon, the two of you were finally able to enter the heart of the party, and you were already exhausted...by the end of the night, you were pretty sure you’d drop dead.

Minho made his way to the kitchen, grabbing your hand so you wouldn’t get lost in the crowd. He filled a red cup with liquid before handing it to you. You shook your head with a look of disgust and he shrugged, chugging it down and quickly replacing his cup with more. You watched uncomfortably as he was greeted by yet another guy, who gave him a high-five before chattering excitedly. Looking away, you tiredly scanned the room, boredom quickly filling your mind.

An hour went by, and you finally gave up. You snatched Minho’s half empty cup and tossed the liquid back, wincing at the taste. He gave you a look of surprise. “About time.” He said, before turning his attention to yet another person who’d come to talk to him. Hyunjin was his name. He looked nice, you noted. You crossed your arms, internally groaning, the music giving you a light headache and the alcohol burning your throat. You couldn’t fathom how this could be enjoyable in any way.

Suddenly, your eyes became aware of the redhead in the very center of the throng of dancing people. She was grinding up against a boy you thought looked familiar. In a second, you realized her eyes were on you. She smirked at you before looking away.

You poked Minho’s arm lightly. “I just saw Rina. I think she’s dancing with Juyeon.”

“Ju-who?”

“The guy at the coffee shop? He was the waiter?”

“Oh, him.” Minho scowled. His eyes searched the crowd before he found the two. He shrugged, finishing his cup before glancing at you with a glint in his eye. “Hey, wanna dance?”

You shook your head firmly. “Don’t push it. I’m still mad at you. The only reason I’m here is because of this stupid lie we’re telling everyone.” You looked back at the crowd, wrinkling your nose at the way everyone danced as if they were in a strip club. So many skimpily clad girls...you almost felt bad for Minho, having to stand by his introverted ‘girlfriend’ instead of join in on the action. You could almost sense his longing, coming off of him in waves.

You shook your head, reminding yourself that it was you helping him, and not the other way around.

***

Minho hated that for some reason, parties didn’t give him the same buzz that he used to feel. When did his definition of fun change? The amount of people coming up to him and greeting him was no longer contributing to his liveliness...instead, it tired him. He glanced at you from time to time, noting your crossed arms and curled lip, regarding the party in complete contempt. For some reason, there was a part of him that could relate.

A few hours went by, and Minho couldn’t take it anymore. He was about to grab your hand and leave, especially because the party was thinning out. A majority of the people had already left with their respective hook-ups, or were passed out on the floor.

“Hey, guys!” He groaned at the familiar voice.

You turned around, smiling at Rina.

“Where do you think you’re going? Minho, you never leave a party this early...your ‘girlfriend’ is really changing you.” She hummed. “I’d like to invite you to a little after-party with my close friends.” She gestured behind her. There were about nine people in all, excluding you and Minho. You recognized Juyeon and Mera, and the two girls from the coffee shop, but that was about it. You looked over at Minho, before sighing and nodding.

***

Half an hour later, you were sat on the floor next to your best friend.

Truth or Dare.

You were gagging internally at it. You weren’t high-schoolers anymore...surely college demanded more maturity than this? You really didn’t want to participate in this stupid game.

Judging by the infuriating smirk on Rina’s face, you had a feeling that Mera had been right. You could feel a sense of dread surround you, and when you looked over at Minho, it was evident on his face as well.

Rina placed the bottle in the middle of the circle, spinning it eagerly. It spun around and around, coming to rest on Mera. Rina chuckled excitedly, pulling up her phone. “Truth or dare, Mer?”

She paused, feigning concentration. “Dare,” She said with a smirk.

Rina squinted at her phone. “Ah! It’s a good one. Take a fruit and eat it in the most sensual way possible.”

Mera rolled her eyes with a smile. “That’s tame as fuck.” She got up and disappeared for a while, returning with a banana.

She plopped on the floor, peeling it and getting to work. Disturbingly, she kept looking over at Minho as she did so, lewdly sucking on the phallic object while keeping eye contact with your boyfriend. (Well, fake boyfriend, but still!)

You pursed your lips, looking away...only to see Rina’s eyes on you, carefully gauging your reaction.

“Alright, that’s enough. Let’s move on to the next one.”

As the bottle was spun again, your mind drifted away. You weren’t thinking about anything in particular, but your brain was yearning for your soft bed and your plushie.

“Minho! Truth or dare?” You snapped back into the present, eyes wide.

Minho thought for a while. “Truth.” He said simply.

Rina tapped her chin with her finger as she read off her phone. “Ooh~ What’s the most unusual place you’ve ever had sex?”

He chuckled wryly. “There’s way too many answers for that, unfortunately...too many for me to count.”

She cocked her head to the side. “Fine. Let’s narrow the possibilities down a little bit. What’s the most unusual place you’ve had sex...with Y/n.”

A sudden coldness settled itself in you as Minho sputtered in response. “Uh...sex? Um...”

The silence that followed was too heavy for comfort. Slowly, one of the girls you didn’t know the name of spoke up. “You two...haven’t had sex yet....?”

Minho cleared hIs throat. “Uh...not yet. We’ve only been dating for like, a week...”

A dude in the corner of the room sniggered. “Come on bro, you can’t expect us to believe that you, Lee Minho, haven’t dicked down your girlfriend yet.”

Minho met your gaze uncomfortably.

“Wait...have they even kissed?”

Rina giggled. “Oh, they have! I saw it. It’s just weird because...”

She made eye contact with you. “I distinctly remember Minho pushing her away when she did it.”

You buried your head in your hands. Everything was swimming slightly, and you felt a little sick, perhaps from the alcohol you’d ingested earlier.

“Anyhoo, let’s move on shall we? Their relationship problems are none of our business.” Rina went to spin the bottle once more. “That is, if they even are in a relationship.” She added under her breath.

The rest of the room whispered to each other as you avoided Minho’s eyes, choosing to stare at the spinning bottle.

“Juyeon...okay Truth or Dare?”

“Dare.”

Rina tapped away on her phone before guffawing, a wide grin spreading across her features. “The dare is...you have to kiss the person right across you.”

It took you a few seconds to register that the person sitting right across him was you. Juyeon smirked and winked at you, before crawling closer, taking your cheek in his big hand and leaning in as you sat there dumbfounded.

What occurred next happened so fast, that you’d miss it if you blinked.

Minho pushed Juyeon away, grabbing you and pulling you to your feet, his lips slamming against yours. You squeaked in surprise, the shock quickly giving way to a neediness that threatened to swallow you whole. You quickly melted into the kiss as he licked your bottom lip, asking for entrance. Opening your mouth, you let his tongue dance with yours as you made out passionately, choosing to ignore the flurry of whispers around you. Minho pulled away, still holding you by the waist. His eyes were burning into yours, an inexplicable emotion shining in them. Your lips felt sore and tingly, and you breathlessly leaned back in, wanting more.

The kiss that followed was softer, yet every bit as sensual as the last one. His soft lips insistently moved against your parted ones, wetly sucking and biting as your limbs felt like jelly. He nudged his nose against yours as you seperated, lips swollen and kiss-bitten.

“I love you.” He whispered.

At that moment, Minho’s heart thudded loudly, feeling trapped in his ribcage as he realized that what he’d just said was true. He’d fully meant it. He loved you. He was in love with his best friend.

But all you could feel was pain. Cause there were those words again, those words you’d convinced yourself was a lie for Rina’s benefit, just as false as your relationship. You realized that you’d been stupid to think that this had ever been a good idea. Now that you finally got a taste of Minho, you don’t think you could ever go back... and it scared you. The kiss had been beautiful. It had felt like your whole life led up to this moment. But it was fake...spurious, like the rest of it.

Minho saw the tears in your eyes. He didn’t know what to make of them...or how to interpret them. It felt like feelings he’d been holding down and trapping for years were finally freed...yet he wasn’t happy. He had no idea how you felt about him. He wouldn’t blame you if you hated him. He deserved it. He hadn’t been a good best friend, so why would you want him to be more?

He grabbed your wrist, tearing his eyes away from yours and looking at the people still sitting on the ground, all wide-eyed and with expressions ranging from shock to confusion. His gaze traveled from Juyeon’s face to Rina’s.

“We’re going to be leaving now. Enjoy the rest of the night.” And with that, he dragged you out the door.

#AAAAAH #minho angst #lee know angst #minho fluff #lee know fluff #skz angst #skz fluff #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff #skz #stray kids #minho smut #lee know smut

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perpetuallyfive · 3 years

Text

Schnee Week, Day 3: Weiss Ships

So I don’t actually have a finished fic or even a chapter to share today because until my sudden burst of creativity on Monday evening, I have been primarily focused on the next three chapters of Dishonored. (Roughly 31k words written so far across two chapters. It’s coming!) But one little thing I’ve been planning for a long time is on the back-burner and I thought I’d share an excerpt.

Way back at the end of 2019, pretty shortly after we met, @catalyswitch showed me a sketch she was working on of a Schneekos modern day AU and asked me for my thoughts.

This is the beginning of the fic I’ve been wanting to write since then.

Winter drives her (and her things) to campus, but Weiss moves in on her own. There’s some kind of important meeting — lots of covert messages on a blackberry, which is a thing these kinds of people still use — and Winter can’t delay any longer. It’s not like Weiss expected anything else.

Maintaining low expectations for others and high ones for yourself are sort of the Schnee motto. It saves a lot of disappointment in life, in general.

She decorates her room just fine on her own. Minimalism is another thing she’s grown accustomed to in the mansion mom gave up on renovating in between her fourth and fifth trip to rehab. Call the abandoned projects and clutter in the attic a metaphor for something, if you’re inclined to such dramatics.

Weiss has never had any need for those kinds of abstractions or distractions.

She hangs a single picture on her wall.

Unlike the family portrait that hangs in the dining room, this is casual. While that is carefully composed and well lit, this shows Weiss and Whitley amidst of a mess of wrapping paper, faces lit up with excitement and the soft glow of the lights from their Christmas tree. Winter is in the background, distributing the gifts. Mother sips some unknown liquid from a coffee mug.

Father is nowhere to be found, and the photo was surely taken by Klein. That’s clear enough in Weiss’s smile, which is confident and unrestrained.

Her posture is straight. Her eyes are bright.

It’s as if her past self was looking right out into the future, smiling at the person she is today.

First day of orientation, and she’s ready for anything.

Correction: the one thing Weiss Schnee was completely unprepared for is her roommate.

The girl is a whirlwind of chaotic confusion, and so is the rest of her family. At least, Weiss has to assume this mess of (noisy) people is somehow this girl’s family. None of them look alike. The two loudest (by only a small margin) are blond with smiles as big as their biceps.

None of them have really stopped talking since they burst into the room and began hanging all kinds of things from the walls on the other side of the room.

“What—” Weiss begins, but she has no idea where the question is going.

What’s there to ask?

“Yes, hello!” the person who is probably Weiss’s roommate — but looks much too young for it — shouts from just beneath the mattress she’s managed to get stuck underneath. One of the blondes lifts it off her, and she darts back out, flailing. “Hi! I am your roommate, Ruby. If that’s what your what was.” She stands at attention, hands on her hips, as if that justifies any part of this. “I’m the what’s what, if you were wondering.”

Weiss barely has time to catch her breath. She’s not sure this even counts as caught. “… what?”

“Exactly!”

The two blondes exchange looks and both laugh, but Weiss doesn’t think it’s very funny.

“You must be Weiss,” the man who technically looks old enough to be someone’s father says, holding out his hand to shake.

The other blonde keeps her arms folder over her chest. “Weiss Schnee, wasn’t it?”

She says it in the same way that everyone says it. As in, are you one of those Schnees, as in they know her father. As in they’ve turned on the news sometime in the past eight years. Everyone knows the Schnee family name; father hasn’t exactly been under the radar.

But all she says is, “That’s right,” while shaking the man’s hand. Firmly.

Always shake firmly. Father taught all of them that.

“Your father sure has his hands in a lot of pies.”

“He doesn’t, actually.”

“Doesn’t—”

“—know the first thing about cooking.” Another early lesson: know when to make your exit. Weiss stands abruptly, her stack of books completely forgotten on the bed. “Well I,” she begins, but she’s already made a fatal error.

Because the new roommate is noticing the books. “Oh, wow, are you majoring in political science?” She’s suddenly much too close to Weiss’s personal space, though for what reason is unclear. It’s just happening, and Weiss is along for the ride. “That’s so cool! I guess it makes sense, huh, because of your dad and everything.”

There’s the elephant in the room. The very large (very republican) elephant. “I chose my major for myself, actually.” It was not an easy or a quiet conversation, and certainly not one Weiss cares to repeat to these total strangers. “As I was just going to say, I have somewhere to be.” Somewhere far away from here, that is. Literally anywhere else. “It was lovely to meet all of you,” Weiss continues, not bothering to acknowledge the fact that she has learned absolutely none of their names.

The first place Weiss finds to hide that she doesn’t think her roommate will find her is the coffee shop. It’s clear from her demeanor that the child — very obviously too young to be at college, so perhaps some kind of prodigy which would explain the hyper active behavior and poor socialization — is in no need of further caffeination.

Coffee shops are also a useful place to disappear. It’s easy to blend in to a crowd of people all looking closer at their cups than they are each other.

Except of course for the table of jocks nearby. Weiss has absolutely nothing in common with any of them.

Even if some of them are aesthetically appealing.

On day three of avoiding her room and her roommate, Weiss discovers that said roommate — her name is Ruby, a fact Weiss intends to immediately forget again — does in fact require even further caffeination.

If she cared about this particular annoyance at all, she might be concerned about the state of her heart.

As it is, she’s more concerned with her own social standing being seen in public with an infant who only stops talking long enough to consume even more coffee.

“So anyway,” Ruby gasps, practically gargling her last gulp down. “What about you, are you excited for your first day of classes?”

Since Ruby is studying something else — what that is, Weiss can’t recall, although she’s probably repeated it more than once — and will come nowhere even close to a political science course, the answer is very obviously yes. Weiss tempers her excitement, somewhat, just for the sake of kindness.

“I’m overjoyed,” she says, almost neutrally.

“Yeah, me too.”

The jocks are there again today. They’re always there. Maybe the field they train on is nearby? Maybe they come here to study?

No, that doesn’t seem likely.

They’re all laughing (loudly) at something a boy with blue hair just said. Hopefully it was about something other than fashion decisions.

“Weiss?” Ruby says, as though she’s just repeating herself after perhaps even several attempts to get Weiss’s attention.

But all Weiss will offer in return is vague non-commitment. “Hm?”

“I was asking if you know them.” She points at the table that Weiss was very covertly staking out and Weiss slaps her hand back down. But Ruby just repeats the gesture with her other hand. “I only ask because you stare at Pyrrha a lot, and I was wondering if you wanted me to introduce you.”

“What, I do not,” Weiss answers without having any idea who Ruby’s even referring to.

At least.

Unless she means the redhead, because then yes. Weiss has been watching her off and on for the past three days, but surely so has everyone else in the cafe. They all have eyes after all.

Even if Weiss’s are currently bugging right out of her skull as Ruby jumps out of her seat. She can see what’s coming, but it’s already too late. “Pyrrha!” Ruby calls, her voice a clanging shriek.

Weiss recoils so hard from the sound that her eyes temporarily close. It’s such sweet relief safe in this darkness that she is reluctant to open them.

When she does, the redhead is there, at her table.

Her smile is confident but carefully contained. Her posture is relaxed and casual. Her hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail, with curls carefully framing her face.

“Oh,” Weiss breathes, before she can think better of it, before she can think at all. “Oh, hi.”

Years later, Weiss will wish she could remember what Pyrrha said next. But she doesn’t. She only remembers the way that smile pushed firmly into her chest, opening up an empty cavern of want that she had never known existed before.

The space inside, the empty need, felt almost limitless. It should have been awful.

But the one thing Weiss can remember from that exact moment is how much she was smiling.

#schnee week #schneekos #i swear this fic is schneekos (and some other background ships too) even if there isn't enough of it in this excerpt #i'm trying to focus on finishing the thing with the huge world and plot first! lol #pulling it home at the end has been um work #but in the meantime :)#my fic #rwby #(''background ships'' she says as if she doesn't intend for some of them to be really prominent. but look i'm trying to not make promises #that my brain doesn't end up able to cash etc. it's nice to hope something flows as comes across the way you want.#but it's another thing entirely to actually promise it when you've only written less than 2k words.)#(okay some of chapter two is also written but shhhhh.)

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revalise · 4 years

Text

Afterdate | UshiOi

Pairing: Ushijima Wakatoshi x Oikawa Tooru

Genre: Fluff, first date

Rating: SFW

Words: 6900+

A/N: This was for UshiOi Week (@ushioiweek2020) but I wasn't able to make the deadline. I wrote Ushijima and Tendou scenes on a writer's block, phew. Thank you to Risa for beta reading this! I owe it all to you!I have quite a number of Haikyuu one-shot ideas, including thrillers and angst, I still need to write. But uni is taking a lot of my time and I haven't fully surpassed my writer's block yet (hence, why I've been posting less and less). If you enjoyed it, don't hesitate to comment. See you on the next! Nevertheless, I hope you love the story as much as I loved writing it!

Masterlist

Ushijima stared at the slightly breathless wonder in front of him as he skidded to a halt. His eyes twinkled, just a bit—in a way they usually did when he was amused but tried hard not to be. Oikawa looked spectacular. Utterly and completely spectacular. A little stiff on the edges, but spectacular

It was a terrible date. Until it wasn’t.

The usually loud metropolis was quiet as a wraith as Tendou and Ushijima waited for the bus home. The kiss of smooth, cold breeze enveloped them both, making Tendou shiver.

Tendou rubbed his hands on his arms as the condensation of his breath blew against the low temperature before whipping his head to the side, only to see Ushijima dart his gaze to the road, patiently waiting. He didn’t care at all about the freezing temperature, standing still as the bus finally arrived, making Tendou frown at their differences.

He would always find himself beside Ushijima as it seemed they always came in a pair. And he knew how different they were. Tendou was the lively one, while Ushijima remained as composed as ever. For a moment, he thought he’d never outdo the captain of the team, but Tendou had a girlfriend waiting for him, waiting for a message regarding his whereabouts.

That alone was enough to make him think he was ahead of the stoic captain. And as a serial dater, Tendou knows how girls turn into something else when their boyfriends don't text back in two minutes.

But when he took out his phone, it was dead.

So the horror that produced sweat on his forehead cascaded down from his neck, even in the temperature, was accompanied by a hammering chest. He knew he needed to shoot his girlfriend a message.

He was left with no choice but to ask Ushijima to borrow his phone. As he fumbled through his friend’s phone after he had no choice, something piqued his interest.

Tendou paid a short glance beside him and his mouth formed a sly smile. The shock mixed with amusement on his face was inexplicable when he saw the Tinder app on his best friend's phone. He covered his mouth to stifle a snort, careful not to wake passengers in their slumber in the back row, late at night from volleyball practice.

Ushijima directed his attention at Tendou, who was looking at him maliciously. The moment his eyes landed on the phone, he understood why.

He tried to hide his surprise, but failed miserably as he quickly tried to retrieve his phone back from Tendou.

Thanks to all the blocking techniques Tendou learned from the team, he held the phone as high as he could out of Ushijima's reach. There was no way Ushijima could retrieve his phone without pushing Tendou over and making a scene since he sat on the window side.

"Hm," Tendou teased. "Since when did you have this?"

"I don't know why it's in there. Give it back," Ushijima argued with a straight face, but the falter in his voice was enough to prove that he was lying. And he wasn't a good liar.

Tendou wiggled his brows, tilting his head. From Tendou's above peripheral, the app successfully loads, and he immediately turns his attention to it, raising it further from Ushijima's grasp.

He pressed on Ushijima's profile. Gods above, did it make him cringe, not to mention the photo Ushijima used for his profile taken about four years ago.

Ushijima, 20

Miyagi Region

"Ugh," Tendou released a sigh. "Have you ever dated anyone from here?"

Ushijima sighed, sitting straight as he set his head down, "No, I don't understand it. I only swiped, and then nothing."

So nobody swiped for him, Tendou thought, feeling both sorry and amused for his friend at the same time. He should change his picture on the app. He looks like an annoying know-it-all, 15 year old. Nobody would go for him.

"Well, that's why you have me," Tendou grinned and head-locked Ushijima. "I'm going to help you get a date!"

The volleyball captain slowly looked up at his friend, "How?"

Tendou only smiled, "Leave it to me."

All Ushijima could ever do was sigh and look over the window as the bus moved further away. He kept his eyes on the bright and warm lights of establishments outside that elongated from the bus’s movement.

He knew that fighting Tendou was futile. In all these years, he had known how the redhead always did whatever he wanted, and how he was good at getting all that. Besides, Ushijima felt too tired to argue anyway.

The continuous clicks of the camera brought his conscience back from almost spacing out. Immediately, he turned his head over to the source beside him to see a smiling Tendou holding his phone as if he’d just come up with something interesting of some sort.

“Did you know it's rude to take photos of somebody without their knowledge?”

The redhead only rolled his eyes with a grin, turning the phone over to Ushijima to show the new profile he’d arranged. "And did you know I only did that as a favor?"

His new bio now read:

Ushijima, 20

Miyagi Region

I must be in a museum because you are a work of art

The four year old photo he once had as his profile picture was now replaced with the one Tendou took.

It was Ushijima's side profile looking outside over the window. The lights of the establishments they passed through created a nostalgic aesthetic along with the slight blurriness of the photo, but never missing his straight, high nose and the sharpness of his jaw. Oh, and that aura of both seriousness and mysteriousness that Tendou knew would catch the attention of anyone who’d look at it.

Ushijima stared at the phone closely, reading the new bio Tendou wrote for him, "That doesn't feel like me at all."

Tendou ignored his friend's remark, giving the phone back to him. "Now try swiping again."

Ushijima took his phone back, observing what buttons to press as he had forgotten how to use the app between the long months since he used it. Finally, the profiles load and he's greeted with a certain boy with light brown hair looking rather cheerful in his picture.

Oikawa, 20

Miyagi Region

If nothing lasts forever, can you be my nothing? ;)

Ushijima scrunched his nose, making Tendou roll his eyes as he grabbed the phone back from him.

“You don’t just stare at it, okay?” He swipes right and a match appears, “See? You swipe and then that will appear if they like you too.”

“Why would they like me if they don’t even know me yet?” the captain asked, tilting his head to the side.

Tendou grimaced, looking a little funny at the innocent question asked of him. “They like your face, okay?” he replied. “Okay?”

Oikawa couldn’t remember how long he’d been talking to the brunette he met on Tinder. Yes, Ushijima was a dry texter, but for some reason, for some reason, he couldn’t stop himself from talking to him. Not even when every topic shifted to thinking if they’d ever had milk from the same cow. Because Ushijima took him to a place where he only knew two things: that he couldn’t stop smiling and couldn’t stop looking forward to all his replies.

The smell of sweat and the sounds of bouncing balls and shoes scraping against the gym floor sang around Oikawa as he made himself comfortably seated all alone on the bench, taking advantage of the fifteen-minute break the coach lent the team.

He laced his phone around his nimble fingers while the other danced around the clean, white towel he used to wipe his forehead before setting it down beside him, placing it along various colored tumblers that belonged to his teammates.

Iwaizumi watched Oikawa from a distance, gulping down on his tumbler, rivulets of water running down from his lips to his Adam's apple, all the way down to his chest. He narrowed his eyes at the flamboyant big shot as he lowered his drink.

He didn’t know why exactly, but there was something different about Oikawa today.

One could say that there was something quite off about the confident captain of the team. Usually, he’d be socializing with the team, or annoying Iwaizumi during breaks, but today he chose to confine himself in the corner, craving what little quiet the noisy gym could offer. Of course, underneath the winks, smiles, exaggerated swagger, and childish antics lies a much more serious persona for when a situation demands it, channeling all that bravado in his pursuit.

But what was so important that could possibly bring Oikawa’s tenacity and attention completely locked on his phone, which he hasn’t put down since the first minute? What could possibly have Oikawa on edge that he couldn’t keep his right heel from lifting and dropping over and over, restlessly?

Oikawa couldn’t stress how long he’d been waiting for Ushijima to ask him out. He wished to have Ushijima beside him, wished he could inhale his scent—and how he probably smelled of dark wood with a hint of vanilla, wished Ushijima’s fingers threaded his hair, and how he wished they were something more.

Truthfully, he couldn’t explain why he’s so intoxicated with the man. He couldn’t determine or distinguish the weight of various reasons why, as if translating them into words would be translating symbols into letters.

Perhaps, the first time Oikawa let himself be swayed by the awkward and dry texter was after he had only slipped into his blanket. Ready to go into a deep slumber after reviewing tapes of his enemy team a day before the match to chalk out strategies, when his phone lit up, the light coming from the screen illuminating a halo around the corner.

From: Ushijima (sent at 9:43pm)

No. You’re the only one I talk to.

His breathing hitched, and he rose as quickly as he laid on the bed. In the small light, his bronze eyes glittered. A corner of his mouth twitched upwards and he wondered, Only me?

Oikawa had teased Ushijima about staying up late to reply to others. Vague, but just the right words to get the exact answer he wanted from the male: if he’d been talking to anyone else other than him. But he found himself kept up by the lingering messages from Ushijima.

A few weeks after that conversation, and at the mention that Ushijima also played volleyball, here he sat anxiously alone on the gym bench, trying the same scheme yet again.

Another word, another hint that he was interested in meeting Ushijima.

To: Ushijima (sent at 4:30pm)

Yeah, volleyball is good! But I miss hanging out sometimes >_<

Oikawa bit his bottom lip, anxiously staring at his phone that had just shifted to a black screen as he waited for a reply. He sighed, dropping his eyelids as he slumped his shoulders back from all the tension he didn’t know had been building up.

His phone pinged, almost sending his body into a full gallop, immediately raising his gaze to the screen. His heart jumped at the sight of the text preview, Do you want to…

This is the moment. He’s finally going to ask me out. Oikawa smiled to himself, regaining his composure as he sat upright. He inhaled slowly, swiping his fingers to unlock the message. Nevermind the smell of sweat. This is the moment.

From: Ushijima (sent at 4:32pm)

Do you want to play volleyball?

Oh. The corners of his mouth dropped just as soon as they pulled upward at the reply. His shoulders sagged, setting his head down in disappointment. Oikawa couldn’t quite make it up, but sometimes, Ushijima seemed to be out of place.

Sometimes, he’d read signals as fast as he misinterpreted others.

This is hopeless, Oikawa laughed to himself. The array of possibilities he set for himself and Ushijima smeared like oil in the air, drowning out his suave as he tried to shut them all down. Then he tipped his head back, breathing in deep. Breathing in the disappointment, taking it into his head that Ushijima was most likely not at all interested in that way. Anxiety and embarrassment mingled into his chest.

But his phone pinged another time, and it sent his body into another jolt.

From: Ushijima (sent at 4:33pm)

I mean, do you want to go on a date?

And for a moment, he couldn’t breathe under the crushing weight that pushed in on him.

“Are you going on a date or to a Sunday morning service?” Tendou cackled as he watched Ushijima put on his necktie over his deep violet long sleeves he paired with black slacks, sitting comfortably on the bed.

Ushijima reciprocated Tendou's gaze through the full body mirror, his eyes squinted, fingers securing the knot of his tie, “What's wrong? Isn't this presentable?”

“Formal. Too formal!” he said as he raised his hands up to stress his remark, barely unable to stop the wide, malicious smile.

“Then tell me,” Ushijima sighed in defeat, realizing that his friend might be right. “What should I wear?”

He was so hopeless that Tendou wondered, What would he do without me? What would have become of him if it weren’t for me guiding him in the big world out there?

Tendou could go on and on about teasing Ushijima with the kind of clothing he chose to wear. Who goes to a date wearing a church outfit? But he saw how Ushijima needed genuine help and pushed his remarks to the side, lending his friend a helping hand on his first Tinder date.

Actually, his first date in general.

“You sound like that time when you finally asked your match out on a date,” Tendou chuckled. “Oh, it was thanks to me.”

Ushijima turned to face Tendou, “I thought it was obvious.”

“Obvious?” Tendou’s hand reached for his stomach as he laughed at his best friend’s words. “How is asking someone to play volleyball flirting? How is that considered flirting?”

Thanks to Tendou, Ushijima was able to make a correction. He was fast to take the latter’s phone in his hand and send another reply. The shock that reverberated into Tendou’s body only dispersed once they received an enthusiastic reply. A feeling that Ushijima would never have felt because of his inexperience.

“But I don’t just ask anyone to play volleyball,” Ushijima replied, tone low and neutral, completely clueless. If he was embarrassed, it didn’t show. Rather, his face remained distant as usual.

The red-haired cleared his throat. It was one of those rare moments when he thought he should be honest with Ushijima before he ventured into a world he hadn't stepped into: dating.

“You’re hopeless. But there’s one thing I can tell you,” Tendou clicked his tongue, eyes shifting left and right trying to search for the perfect words.

He weighed in the list of possibilities that could happen to Ushijima and his date. Of course, there was already a high probability that both of them would be as awkward as ever. But Tendou took notice of the amount of emojis Ushijima’s date uses, so he couldn’t be that boring.

Sometimes, there are just people who could make everything boring. Unfortunately, Ushijima was part of that.

Tendou chuckled inwardly at his thoughts.

Ushijima was intimidating, and he doesn’t speak much. But when he does, he can come off as blunt. He was the kind of man who spoke no lies. He didn’t hesitate to speak what’s on his mind. He didn’t have any concerns. Only that he disliked things he didn’t understand.

He had the oozing air of confidence and reliability about him. He was a fantastic player on the court, but he was just a regular person outside of that. And sometimes, Tendou wondered if Ushijima had any fun at all.

His scrutinizing gaze brought Ushijima’s eyes to meet his through the mirror as the lad unbuttoned his shirt to change. “Have fun.”

Oikawa’s blood pumped through him in a strange rhythm. With every step he took, his feet felt heavy, lightweight, soft, and hard all at once, dragging them to move. He was tizzy as he approached the cinema—where he and Ushijima agreed to meet, biting down on his bottom lip.

The man walking in front of him paid him a short glower as if he’d been suspecting Oikawa for his stalking gait. Oikawa reciprocated the man’s hostility with an apologetic smile, halting his steps and embracing the frigid weather around him.

He took in a few deep breaths as he closed his eyes. Then he opened them, and the big ‘CINEMA’ sign glowed red in the light of the dark and the busy streets and youth passing by.

The first snow still hasn’t touched the ground, but it was felt in the frigid cold. He posted himself beside the entrance. He could feel the warm temperature coming from inside the hall whenever the doors opened. There was that burning need to invite himself in, but he stood outside, patiently waiting in the cold.

All around him, there were laughs and smiles from people around his age. Mostly couples, but he spotted friends who came in groups. Some were buying tickets from the booth manned by a straight-faced fellow, who impassively bid goodbye by saying, “Enjoy your movie.”

Some, he guessed, were waiting for someone. The restless tapping of their foot against the ground, the constant checking of time, and the biting of their lips. All of which Oikawa recognized. Because he was doing the same thing.

He raised his left hand, pushing aside his long, blue sweater sleeves to reveal his leather watch, “6:47…” he whispered.

There were still thirteen minutes left to see Ushijima for the first time. Thirteen minutes to hold on to his dear sanity.

He tapped his foot restlessly against the pavement once more, releasing another breath that condensed in the air, making him push his khaki scarf upwards to cover his mouth.

As soon as he raised his gaze towards what’s in front of him, he saw the man he’d been yearning to see. Behind the screen. Behind all those words. Behind all the smiles. And on that cold night, he saw him for the first time.

Oikawa’s eyes widened as he watched Ushijima from only eight feet away.

Ushijima’s body was turned to the side, giving Oikawa only the picture of his long coat, cropped light-colored trousers, and loafers. His side profile boasted that high nose and that brown hair—and Oikawa wondered if it was as smooth as it looked.

It’s literally unfair how attractive he is, Oikawa groaned in his thoughts. He knew how strange it was to look at Ushijima. But he found difficulty in not staring at him. He couldn’t find the courage to tear his gaze away from him. Not when Ushijima had that mesmerizing aura about him.

He was all too aware of how cliche he sounded, and he smiled like a fool when he realized that, maybe, he liked it. And he was still smiling like a fool when Ushijma whipped his head in his direction, locking their gazes.

Ushijima narrowed his eyes, making Oikawa’s smile drop as soon as he realized. But Ushijima was already walking toward him, and Oikawa couldn’t breathe.

“Good evening,” Ushijima greeted as soon as he was in front of Oikawa. If he was nervous, if he was shy, it didn’t show.

Oikawa noted the aura Ushijima emitted. He was, perhaps, more than what he had expected. A little too unreal, maybe. He swallowed, but his throat was too dry. “Hello…”

Ushijima’s lips twitched a little upwards. Even as he smiled, there was still something serious left in the air. “Have you been waiting long?” he checked his watch then returned to the speechless Oikawa.

He’s so pretty. I think I’m gonna faint, Oikawa thought before he realized he was asked a question. He shook his head to disperse himself of unwanted thoughts, creasing his brows as he leaned a little forward. Ushijima’s scented soap caressed his nose, a touch of wood… and is that baby powder? “I’m sorry. What was that?”

“Have you been waiting long?” Ushijima repeated.

“Oh. No,” Oikawa retreated. “No, I haven’t. I just got here,” he chuckled, trying to conceal the awkwardness in his tone. Feeling a little anxious, he asked, “And you?”

“I also just got here,” Ushijima answered dryly. Then his eyes went past Oikawa, and both felt the warm temperature from inside the hall, the noises sounding louder as the door swung open before it shut on its own and the noises died down with it.

Ushijima brought his gaze back to Oikawa, “Would you like to go inside? I’ve got the tickets.”

“Sure…” Oikawa smiled awkwardly.

Ushijima pushed the door open for Oikawa, to which he thanked him for. As soon as Ushijima couldn’t see his face, he closed his eyes in frustration. Say something!

Oikawa found himself speechless around Ushijima. It seemed like all of his confidence had died at the very sight of him. There was something intimidating about Ushijima that he couldn’t quite explain.

Yes, he’d been waiting for this moment for so long. And he hated himself for feeling as if he wasn’t even trying hard to connect with him.

The thundering drum in his heart pulsed through his ears, drowning out the sound of talks and the smell of popcorn invading his nose. He was shifting his weight from one foot to another as they waited in line for the cinema room, pocketing his trembling hands as he started at his feet.

He squeezed the bridge of his nose with two fingers, then lifted his head as he smiled at the staff that manned the entrance to the cinema room before following Ushijima ahead. His throat was tight in nervousness—a feeling he wasn’t very much familiar with—even as they sat in their seats.

Oikawa shifted his gaze over to Ushijima, and found he kept his eyes on the big screen, the flickering light from the changing scenes illuminated the planes of his face. He could watch Ushijima the entire time. Nevermind that Romeo and Juliet movie using the original dialogue. He couldn’t even understand it.

Then his eyes shifted towards his hand that rested on the recliner, making him frown. Since the movie started, he already placed his hand where Ushijima could hold it. But the movie was probably half over already, and nothing.

A child’s cry drowned the actors’ voices and shook the whole cinema, turning everyone’s attention to the source in the row behind them. Only Ushijima did not bother to pay a glance towards the disturbance.

Oikawa thought, Why make a child watch Romeo and Juliet?

He stifled a laugh and his hand flew to cover the corners of his mouth from twitching upwards as cheese popcorn fell from right above Ushijima’s head.

That was all it took to have Ushijima turn his attention to the annoying child. The audience expressed annoyance through angry muffles, but Ushijima remained calm and collected, politely accepting apologies from the man, whom Oikawa guessed as the father, as he tried to soothe the crying child.

Ushijima caught Oikawa’s attention, but it was too late for him to hide his smile. Oikawa laughed awkwardly, then hoisted his drink he hadn’t touched from the recliner to hand over to Ushijima.

“Drink water,” he said even as he himself was dehydrated.

Musicians took up spots inside the restaurant that Ushijima booked for the date. The room was filled with a blend of soft conversations, the clang of plates, and violins. Such a beautiful sound, if only that one musician knew how to carry a tune.

Oikawa and Ushijima kept straight faces, looking at each other as if they could tell what the other was thinking.

It was grand, but terrible. The dishes were too small. Certainly not enough to satiate their hunger. And that music? Gods above.

He registered the change in Ushijima’s face as he watched him intently across the table that separated them both. His ears were turning a little red, his forearms braced on the table. While Oikawa, on the other hand, leaned on the back of his chair, sitting like a king.

“How do you do it?” Ushijima asked quietly, his eyes almost pleading.

“Do what?” Oikawa grinned, raising his head high, teasing.

Ushijima gave him a slow smile and a flicker of light moved across his eyes, “How do you ignore that irritating sound?”

“My teammates are louder, and much more annoying than that,” Oikawa laughed, stealing another glance at the stressed-out musicians who wasted no time in poking at the one who couldn’t play the right strings. He would’ve felt sorry for him, really, had it not sparked an interesting conversation between him and Ushijima.

Ushijima traced the rim of his glass, “Louder and annoying?” his brows narrowed slightly.

“So,” Oikawa tilted his head, keeping a smile on his face as he recalled moments he spent with the team. “There was this one time when we went to a training camp. And I couldn’t sleep on the bus because they were all so obnoxiously loud and kept singing.”

Oikawa was the leader of that fiasco, but he would never admit to it.

“I had to snap their foreheads one by one to make them stop,” he shrugged. “It was fun though.”

“You have a very different definition of fun,” Ushijima chuckled, so soft and so mellow. The sound was better than the horrible quartet playing in the background, and Oikawa wanted to hear it again.

“Well,” Ushijima started, “do you want to get out of here?”

Somehow, it didn’t seem like goodbye.

“Wait!” Oikawa laughed when the tail of the scarf around his neck got caught in between the restaurant door they walked through.

Ushijima took a step closer, opening the door for Oikawa to pull out his scarf. A slash of a grin spread across his face, “What are you doing?”

Oikawa could only laugh as Ushijima stared at him with the same intensity. They stood in front of each other. No words, just stillness. But they were sure something changed. Even when they’ve only had a short time to get to know each other.

From the short distance that separated them, Oikawa watched as Ushijima’s brown eyes turned molten from the warm lights all around them. He couldn’t brush off the rush of having Ushijima look only at him, trying not to get lost in those strange, enticing eyes.

Oikawa winced as a gust of icy wind blew the tail of his scarf and froze his ears. He took that sign as an opportunity to pull it tightly around him.

“Walk with me?” he asked gently.

“I would love to,” Ushijima nodded. “But I’m afraid you would have to lead me instead. I’m not quite familiar with the road down there.”

Oikawa smiled even as he rolled his eyes, “Don’t tell me you’re the kind who gets picked up?”

Ushijima tucked his hand behind his back as they strode forward through the cobbled streets. He fumbled for words, but he did not drop his grin as the golden lights twinkled across the city, “Not really.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that?”

“Do you have a reason not to?”

“Okay, you’re good,” Oikawa complimented when he couldn’t counter his quick remark.

“Thank you,” Ushijima chuckled, deep and slow.

Oikawa frowned, “You actually look more handsome with honesty on your face.”

“I do?” Ushijima grinned, boasting those white teeth, brows knotting.

“Yeah, yeah,” Oikawa waved him off. “You’re cute. Stop smiling at me like that,” he added, averting his gaze from Ushijima. “Your lack of self-awareness is deeply troubling.”

Ushijima pocketed his hands, “And you? Are you honest?”

“Yeah, I mean,” Oikawa shrugged and smiled roguishly, keeping his gaze on the lights ahead. From a distance, he could see the head of the illuminated fountain by the park they were nearing. “Maybe I’ll just be straightforward about taking advantage of you.”

Ushijima laughed but said nothing. No one spoke as they realized that the space between them felt strangely intimate.

“What about the violin in the restaurant earlier, huh?” Oikawa followed with a tease.

“What on earth,” Ushijima drawled, sounding exasperated, “is all I have to say to that.”

With a turn around the hedge, the gush of water from the fountain park enticed them both. A strong gust of wind made them feel that the air had turned colder with the time, ripping through them as they observed the golden lit decorations surrounding the park.

“Do you want to..?” Ushijima didn’t finish the words, extending his arm and pointing his index towards the brightly lit fountain.

Their date should have ended the moment they stepped out of the restaurant. But the beautiful fountain in the center illuminating their faces signaled that it had only just begun.

Before Oikawa could sit on an empty bench—only a few feet away from the fountain, Ushijima dusted it with his hand, making his date smile appreciatively at the effort. In the touch of freezing cold, it became their spot to just sit and watch the fountain as a silent acknowledgement that neither were ready to part ways just yet.

“So,” Oikawa said as he crossed his legs, turning to Ushijima as the latter sat down. “Tell me more about you.”

“About me?” Ushijima’s brows creased, setting his eyes on his hands that rested in his lap. Oikawa realized how there was no progress in terms of skinship between them, but he wasn’t complaining. “There’s nothing much about me, really.”

“Impossible,” Oikawa shook his head. “There’s never nothing about anything or anyone.”

Oikawa’s eyes glittered as he stared at Ushijima’s hand, and his heartbeat quickened when his gaze rose to his face.

“How about us?” Ushijima asked.

A flush of pink bloomed on his cheeks as his heart hammered against his ribcage. He hadn’t been expecting such an honest question, such a question that flushed all the bravado he tried so hard to muster.

“Is there a reason you’re blushing like that?” Ushijima tilted his head.

Oikawa kept his gaze averted, biting his full bottom lip. Because of you!

“Oikawa?” Ushijima called.

He tried not to let it show what it did to him to have Ushijima remember his name. Or to hear him say it. To have him let out the words from his lips.

“Are you okay?” Ushijima asked, but made no move to touch him.

Good. Because Oikawa wasn’t entirely certain he could handle his heat hovering against him. He took a breath, and that same impish grin swiped back. “You should know by now,” he teased.

The silence that followed after didn’t lay as heavy as it used to be. Instead, Oikawa straightened himself, resting a hand on the bench in the short distance separating both, gazing at the fountain that kept them company.

“I like mushroom risotto,” he said out of the blue.

“Mushroom risotto?”

“Mushroom risotto,” he repeated, still keeping his eyes averted.

There was a short pause before Ushijima spoke, “Did you know that mushrooms are made up of 90% water?”

Do you want to go try mushroom risotto next time? Do you want me to bring that for you one day? Do you want me to cook that for you? Such questions were what he thought would’ve followed next. Questions that would make them meet each other again. Never a random fact he didn’t expect.

Oikawa turned his head towards his date. “What?” He choked on a laugh as he asked it.

“Yeah,” Ushijima gruffed, completely unaware of what left Oikawa in disbelief. “They’re also a fungus. Did you know?”

“No,” Oikawa shook his head. “I didn’t.”

“We should forage for mushrooms next time.”

Next time, the words rang in Oikawa’s head. Next time.

“And you?” Oikawa followed. “What’s your favorite food?”

“Curry,” his date answered plainly, his free hand discreetly traveling towards Oikawa’s hand on the bench.

A faint warmth bloomed in his chest. The brief touch of Ushijima’s fingers through Oikawa sent a pang of desire through him so strong he wanted to pull him in closer. It had taken all of him, all his self control to keep his breathing steady as he gazed back at the fountain.

That was all it took to have Oikawa’s gaze back at the fountain again, “These lights are familiar,” he started. “From my recitals from those years ago. It’s kinda nostalgic.”

When Ushijima didn’t say anything, he took it upon himself to turn his head back towards him. With the look written across Ushijima’s face and those eyes, he understood.

“I will pretend I haven’t heard the question in your eyes,” he groaned.

“No, tell me,” Ushijima leaned a little forward.

“It’s nothing, really. I just took up dancing a while back. Then I shifted to volleyball,” he eyed him, searching for any sign of mockery.

“Dancing?” Ushijima pondered, running a finger along his lips—the sight making Oikawa swallow—before returning his gaze to the other, “Could you, perhaps, show me?”

“What?” Oikawa asked in disbelief, turning left and right. “Here?”

Ushijima nodded.

“What?” he shook his head. “No!”

But Ushijima stood up and offered his hand. Oikawa stared at it for a moment, creasing his brows, but a ghost of a smile remained plastered across his lips. He looked around, searching for prying heads.

“There are people,” he argued in a whisper.

Ushijima shrugged, “People are too busy to care about anyone other than themselves.”

Oikawa let out a long sigh before he took Ushijima’s hand. Narrowing his eyes, he said, “Fine.”

He cleared his throat and lumbered, positioning himself in the center from where they stood. Ushijima could never tell him, but he looked like a perfect decoration in front of the fountain behind him.

Oikawa gazed across the stone pavement. Sliding his foot back and the other forward, he extended his arms in front in a smooth motion that truly suggested he had some background in the art. He was dancing, then his arms were flailing in the sky with feline grace. His scarf spun around him as he whirled, and he was thankful for the cold that he wouldn’t sweat. He felt like flying, until the ground was beneath his feet again.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done this. And why did he stop?

Ushijima stared at the slightly breathless wonder in front of him as he skidded to a halt. His eyes twinkled, just a bit—in a way they usually did when he was amused but tried hard not to be.

Oikawa looked spectacular. Utterly and completely spectacular. A little stiff on the edges, but spectacular.

Oikawa picked up his scarf that fell on the ground. Then his eyes rested on Ushijima, whose hands were pocketed in his coat. A tug on the corner of his lips issued the bravado he’d been keeping.

“What? Amused?” he teased with a conspirator’s grin when he closed the final distance between them.

Ushijima just stared at him, taking in the warm gleam in his eyes. He said nothing, but his hand flew to Oikawa’s scarf. Both said nothing as Ushijima wrapped the it around him, “It always becomes loose when you’re the one putting it on.”

A delicious heat kissed its way down Oikawa’s neck to his spine as if there was some warmth left despite the winter.

“Perhaps I will take up dancing again,” he said in a little more than a whisper, his throat constricting at the moment.

A hush had fallen between them, but Oikawa felt as if there was something inside him that found it to be a perfect piece in their merriment. It went beyond his expectations. He enjoyed his time with Ushijima.

“Let’s take you home,” Ushijima said and Oikawa only nodded.

The streets were too quiet this time of the night—so quiet that only their footsteps and chuckles and moments of conversation lingered in the sleeping city. They were still talking and laughing, and it had been that way since they left the park, stepping forward with the wings of conversation.

“What was your favorite part?” Ushijima asked, his eyes not on the streets before him but on Oikawa. Such wild ecstasy, he noted.

Oikawa paused, his brows creasing as Ushijima waited for his answer, thinking. Then his eyes widened and met Ushijima’s, “Oh, you mean the movie?”

Ushijima only chuckled, “Yes, the movie.”

“Not the baby?”

“Yeah, and maybe that too,” a faint smile stretched Ushijima’s lips.

“Hmm, let’s see,” Oikawa looked forward, brows knotting yet again as he acted. His finger tapped on his lip in a way that forced Ushijima to remind himself to keep his focus on Oikawa’s eyes, “I like the part where the dad,” he stared back at Ushijima, “picked up the baby and they went outside. That scene was amazing!”

Ushijima chuckled, looking away from him and Oikawa realized how manly Ushijima’s voice was. Then Oikawa’s eyes scanned the street before him, how the establishments and the crooked, dark streets were becoming more and more familiar to him.

“You laughed at me earlier,” there was a hint of a smile on Ushijima’s lips.

Oikawa felt a little embarrassed, but he laughed, “You’ve gotta admit. It was kind of funny.”

“It was fine,” Oikawa answered seriously.

“Same here.”

“No way. I thought you liked Shakespeare,” he said in disbelief.

“I thought you liked Shakespeare,” Ushijima countered.

He assumed that Oikawa was interested in Shakespeare because, sometimes, he would post quotes from Romeo and Juliet. What Ushijima didn’t know was that: it was Oikawa’s literature teacher who originally posted those, and he only wanted to get on their good side.

“It took me some time to understand the words,” Oikawa admitted.

Ushijima’s smile widened, revealing his white teeth, “For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.”

Oikawa’s hand flew to his mouth that went agape, “How did you memorize that?” he asked with amusement in his eyes.

“Say your lines,” Ushijima urged him.

“You are reciting Juliet’s lines,” Oikawa narrowed his eyes in thought, but the grin didn’t disappear from his lips.

“Say your lines,” Ushijima repeated, ignoring his remark.

Oikawa rolled his eyes, his brows knotting trying to remember the right words, “Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?”

“Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.”

“You’re annoying. Mine is long,” he frowned at how fast Ushijima replied and how long he remembered the next line was. But it took only one grin from Ushijima and he started speaking.

“Something. Something,” his eyes almost bawled upwards trying to remember the words. “Let lips do what hands do. Uh. They pray grant thou, lest faith turn to despair..?” he finished with uncertainty. “Wait. How do you even memorize these?”

“Saints do not move, though grant for prayer's sake,” Ushijima continued.

“Then move not, while my prayers’ effect I take,” Oikawa grinned with how fast he recited the lines as he halted in front of his house and Ushijima did the same.

“Thus, from my lips,” Ushijima said hoarsely. Oikawa didn’t mean to, but his eyes went down to Ushijima’s lips, “by thine, my sin is purged.”

His heartbeat quickened when his gaze rose to Ushijima’s eyes, “Then have my lips the sin that they have took,” he said in a little more than a whisper.

The night was honest and his eyes whispered of how they met, how there was an unspoken understanding between them. And being with Ushijma was like staying in the rain, he still wanted to be in it one more time.

Through a clearing in the skies, clusters of stars could be seen and the sliver of the crescent moon shone above them as they stepped into the pool of moonlight.

“Good night,” Ushijima said. “You’re probably tired.”

But he was not tired, he was not done. There was still greed and want inside of him that made him want to pull Ushijima closer. The longing for a wave of touch and friction of joy that only grew bigger and bigger by the minute.

“Good night,” was all he replied, his voice so soft and mellow.

Oikawa turned his back on Ushijima, his steps feeling heavier by the minute as he trudged away from him. But he looked back, and the greed must have shown because Ushijima stood there, watching him, thinking.

He grinned and crossed his arms, “You do realize what time it is, right?”

Ushijima shrugged and pocketed his hands, “I just want to see you walk in.”

That was all it took for Oikawa to do the opposite. He went closer to Ushijima, closing the gap between them. There was only the absence of conversation and how much he wanted to touch Ushijima.

“It was enchanting to meet you,” Ushijima said quietly before his ears filled with the softness of Oikawa’s laughter.

“Do you know how cliche you sound, Romeo?” he teased.

Oikawa watched the way Ushijima’s lips widened in a smile and died down slowly.

“I think,” Ushijima started, the words were barely more than a strangled whisper, “I like you a lot.”

The longing blinded him, and he flung himself on Ushijima, breathing in his scent and the slight trace of cheese in him. He memorized the feel of him and the heat of Ushijima’s body hovering over him.

“We probably should just go to McDonald’s next time,” he teased.

“As long as I’m with you,” Ushijima chuckled against Oikawa’s lips. “I would like that very much.”

It was only that, and their lips touched.

#haikyuu #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fanfic #ushioiweek2020 #ushioiweek #ushioi #ushioi fanfic #ushijima wakatoshi #oikawa tooru #ushioi fluff #fluff #first date #terrible date fanfic #ushijima wakatoshi x oikawa tooru #revalise #like and/or reblog

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im-hqlover · 4 years

Text

Arranged marriage/Royal AU - Chapter 2 - The Party

A/n: I came back with chapter 2! I must say, it was worth writing this all day, and I really hope you like it.

Enjoy!

(none of the images used on the aesthetic belong to me, credit to their creators)

Warnings: arranged marriage, maybe some bad words, sex mentions, maybe discomfort?, cry (Idk if it is necessary, but I will put anyway), maybe english errors/mistakes.

important details to mention:

-This is kind of a Royal AU, but time kinda mixes with middle Ages and current time, so some technologies exist and others don’t, it’s kind of confusing, maybe, but I hope this isn’t a big problem.

-The reader is 20 years old, Jason is 22 y/o

-The reader is female.

Pairings: Jason Todd x reader

Y/n = your name

L/n = Last name

B/f/n = best friend name

F/c = Favourite cake

Words count: 6108

Previous chapters: Chapter 1

Next chapters: Chapter two's alternative ending, chapter 3

Tag list: @sarcasmismyfirstlove

Y/N's INFO:

Gender: Cis-Female

Sexuality: Straight

Height: Shorter than Jason

Weight: Not Defined

Skin Color: Not Defined

Hair Color: Not Defined

Eyes Color: Not Defined

Other details? Y/n is myopic

(I hope I have put all the information, let me know if i forgot something)

As we walked, I was still very nervous, with my body shaking and sweating cold because I didn't know exactly how to act, should I say something? I had no idea, so I just kept walking and tried to focus on what was important.

After we left the room where the ceremony was held, the bridesmaids continued in front of us, guiding us to the outside area, where there was a stone path, with several flower petals on the sides, together with several lights that adorned there, I couldn't help myself sigh a wow while I saw it all, it was ... just beautiful.

- Liked? - I hear Jason asking me, and I turn to face him as we continue walking.

- It's amazing. - I admit to him and look away from him, for some reason his look made me blush.

- Aweeee, you two are so cute together! - One of the flower girls who had black hair turned to us and kept walking back and throwing petals, she had a huge smile on her face. She should have been about six, eight at the most.

- Lian, you will fall if you keep walking backward. - It was just that he said that she lost her balance and almost fell, but she managed to be more agile and act as if nothing had happened, I couldn't help myself have a little laugh and Jason did the same.

As much as he seemed a little scary before, for some reason now he didn’t seem that much, I mean, he was huge, and obviously he was a warrior, his scars and muscular body proved it, he really looked like someone angry that you wouldn't want to get into a fight with, but after what that woman in the village said, my dad saying that maybe he wasn't as bad as I expected him to be, at the altar, he was trying to smile to make me feel more comfortable, and now he’s probably trying to find something to make things a little better, maybe he really wasn't that bad, but I couldn't jump to conclusions, my brain could be deceiving me to see what I wanted to see.

It was a short time to we arrived in an open area with several tables and chairs for the guests, there were also several lights hanging over the tables, I could see that in the background the sun was setting, I stopped for a moment to appreciate all that, it was really beautiful, I was speechless, even though I was stressed because of the whole situation, being there now made me feel a little more comfortable.

The venue was still empty, as the guests would arrive after us, and I didn't know exactly what I was supposed to do, I mean, we were probably going to greet the guests, but I wasn't sure about that. I looked at Jason and opened my mouth to speak, but I didn't have the courage to ask, but he must have realized that I was going to say something.

- Yes? - He raises his eyebrows doubtfully, waiting for me to speak.

- What exactly do we do now?

- Guests should arrive in a short time, so we should greet them and thank them for coming. - He said it as if it was the most obvious thing and that I should know, I mean, that was obvious, I just wanted to be sure.

- I understand. - I answer looking shyly where my feet should be, but that at the moment were hidden by the long dress, so I look where we had arrived, and soon the first to appear are my family, and then Jason's family.

They positioned themselves at our sides, and it wasn't long before the guests came, my nervousness returned again, I don’t really know if it left me at some point, to be honest, but it sure got worse now, what if I say something wrong? What if I can't say anything? But then I observe what my parents and Jason's family said, and then I repeated more or less the same.

It was tiring, there were several guests, people I never saw in my life but who acted as if I knew them, and that left me a little out of place.

Most people said things like: "You are such a beautiful and cute couple", "the ceremony was so beautiful, I couldn't stop the tears from falling", "it was a pleasure to see this wedding", "I hope you are very happy together", "you will have beautiful children", and many other things.

What irritated me was that everyone acted like Jason and I really loved each other, as if we dated for years and finally, after a long time we decided to get married, but all of that was a lie, even if I wanted to have that love between us, I knew it was a lie.

When all the guests were greeted and thanked, there was the photo session that was equally tiring and uncomfortable, mainly in the parts where I had to kiss Jason, not that it was bad to kiss him, but…. Do you know what I mean? It was fake and without passion, it wasn't cool. When the photo session ended my mom came over to talk to me, and Jason left me alone with her.

- Come on daughter, you have to change your dress. - Ah yes, the party dress, I had even forgotten that. My mom took me to my room and then left me alone for me to change.

Ah, at least a few minutes alone without anyone suffocating me, without unknown people hugging me and kissing my hand, it just made me more uncomfortable.

I looked at my left hand where the ring was, I didn't even have time to analyze it, it was very beautiful, full of details, and I must say, absolutely expensive, not that I know much about jewelry, but I’ve seen some carved rings like this cost the eye, or rather, cost a kidney.

The dress I was wearing was really long, and I'm happy to change it to one that was knee-deep, so I wouldn't be tripping over the dress all the time, on the other hand, my legs were exposed and I felt a little uncomfortable with that, even if the dress wasn't that short. I touched up my makeup slightly and then looked at my reflection for a while. I hear a knock on the door and my mother's voice.

- Are you ready?

- Yes. - I say monotonously and open the door, leaving the room, and so we went back to the outside area where the party was taking place, when we get there, most, or maybe all the guests look at me, and it makes me feel nervous and I feel my face heat up, my mom and I go to the big table where Jason, his family, and mine were sitting, besides the best man and bridesmaids. My mom sits next to my dad and brother, while I sit between my husband and my dad, while I try to ignore all the looks on me. As soon as I sit down, I hear the sound of someone gently tapping a glass to make a noise and catch the attention of everyone present.

- Now that the bride has arrived, let's go to the speeches! - Announced King Bruce, who started giving a speech talking about how happy he was with the wedding, that it meant peace and alliance between our kingdoms, and that finally, that war was over, he may have said other things, but I ended up not paying much attention.

When the king finished his speech, it was my father's turn, he was saying he was very happy and blah blah blah. After his little speech, the best man got up to do his, I didn't remember his name, but apparently he was very close to Jason. He said some things that I admit I didn't pay much attention to… y/n! focus!

- So, how about telling some funny moments of the groom? - I could see that Jason looked at the best man with a deadly look, but the redhead just ignored the look of the groom and kept talking. - Like that time, where it should be a normal night in a bar, just a few drinks, but he drank so much, he went so far as to want to kiss a tree saying that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen on Earth. I couldn't help but laugh, and neither did other guests, Jason laughed too, but I couldn't tell if it was genuine or fake, I felt a little guilty about laughing, but hey, I can't control my laughter.

- I could be telling several of these stories, but I can't spend the whole night talking, so I'm going to end this speech by saying to you, princess y/n, the situation you two met may not have been the best, but if you have a little patience to put up with this guy, I know you’ll find that deep down, very deep down, he’s a cool guy. - I smile at the best man, and like other people, I clap for his speech, and he soon takes his seat. I look at Jason, and I can swear his face was slightly red, who would have thought a tough man like him could blush?

It was then that my maid of honor started giving her speech, and it made me nervous, what if she said something embarrassing in front of everyone? I tried to calm down and pay attention to what she said.

- I know that things didn't go exactly as you planned them, but I really hope you two get along. And as the best man of the groom did, I will tell you a little about the bride so that the prince can also learn a little more about y/n. And the first thing I think you deserve to know is that she is the most stubborn person that exists on the face of the Earth, and no y/n, there is no point in looking away because you know very well that this is true. Besides of course, also being the most clumsy person I’ve ever seen, I wonder how it’s never broken a bone being clumsy the way you are. - I laugh, maybe because of nervousness, but I had to agree with her lines because they were true. - But I don't want to talk only about your defects, I don't want to leave you with a bad impression, I can also tell you that y/n is one of the kindest, talented, and incredible person I have ever met. She may not want to admit it and want to run away from other people, but Jason, if you have a little patience and determination, behind her walls, you will realize that she is an amazing person.

I smile shyly, and I can feel Jason's gaze on me, and it makes me more nervous. But there was something that was bothering me, both the best man and the maid of honor were the only people who acted saying that it was kind of a forced situation, but why? Shouldn't they act like the others and just ignore the fact that it was all forced?

I didn't know if I thought that was a good situation or not, in a way I learned a little more about Jason and him about me, not that there were big things, but it was still something. Would he be as good as the best man says he is? I think my answer will come over time, and I hope it is true, not the opposite.

B / f / n kept telling some stories about me, and as soon as it was over, it was time to cut the wedding cake. Jason got up first and I got up right away, he offers his hand which I accept shyly, and then he guides me to the table where there was a big 6-layer cake, its decoration was beautiful, and of course, on the top, there was a mini-me and a mini Jason.

Before cutting the cake, had more photos, which even though I didn't see them, I wanted to set them on fire, because I was sure that my tired and uncomfortable face was very apparent. After the photos were taken, we finally cut the cake, and then pieces were distributed to the guests, and I was surprised when I ate the cake and it was f/c, I swore it would be a bad thing, but knowing that it was my favorite cake made me a little happier, who will not be happy with cake? Especially when it's your favorite?

The party went on normally, people talking at their tables, picking up food, coming over to where Jason or I was to be able to talk and etc. There was also the orchestra that was playing background music, it was not too loud so that people could talk to each other without having to shout.

It took some time until it was time for the couple to dance, meaning Jason and I would dance, just the two of us, in front of everyone, I don't even need to mention that it made me very nervous. Not that I don't know how to dance, I trained a lot with my father, and I already danced before, but dancing with all eyes on you, dancing with someone you don't know if know how to dance well or not, is complicated.

The music grew louder, and Jason offered his hand so we could go to the dancing floor and start dancing. He puts his right hand on my waist, and I hold his free hand with my right hand. For a while, I try to avoid looking at his face, but I knew it was better to look at him, it would be strange to see a couple dancing without looking at each other, so I had to gather all my strength to not look away from his eyes, that were so... mesmerizing. Maybe I was distracted for a few seconds and… stumbled?

Of course, I couldn't help being embarrassed even in my own marriage, just when several people are looking. I end up laughing nervously and Jason asks.

- Are you alright? - Even if we continued to dance as if nothing that just happened has happened, he asks me if I'm okay.

- Y-yes, I'm fine. - I answer awkwardly and we continue to dance until the music stops and another one starts, and now my father asks to dance with me.

And well, things went on, I danced with my father, then with the best man, and I must say it was kind of funny to dance with him for some reason, maybe it was your conversations that made me laugh. Then other guys from the nobility came to me to dance, it came to a point that I just couldn't stand my feet and I had to stop for a while, and during that break, I took the opportunity to eat something. As I ate in a corner, trying to be at peace for at least a few minutes, I see Jason who was not far from me, and one of the bridesmaids/flower girls, whose name I think was Lian, approaches him and pulls the sleeve of his suit.

- Uncle Jay, dance with me? - I notice that she makes a very cute face begging Jason to dance with her, he sighed, he was probably tired of dancing too, but he accepted the flower girl's request.

- Of course Lian. - When he answered the girl gave little jumps of joy, and the scene as it was cute was at the same time funny because Jason was a giant compared to the girl. Until to resolve the height differences, and so that he probably wouldn't have back pain, he picked Lian up and started dancing, and the girl was laughing with joy. Seeing that melted my heart, it was too cute.

But my happiness and my time alone didn't last long, I hadn’t even finished eating, and more guys came up saying they wanted to dance with me, and my feet wanted to scream in response, "I danced too much already, go find someone else to dance!" until the men start to discuss who would dance with me first since I didn't even have the opportunity to speak. They were very close to me, and there should be at least five there, I was feeling suffocated, I tried to speak, but they just ignored me, and I didn't want to be rude, so I just tried to get away, but it didn't help.

- Hey! Can't you just leave her alone? - I hear a familiar voice startling the guests there, it was the best man, who if I'm not mistaken his name was Roy or something. The guys got mad at him, but they left, leaving me alone with the best man.

- Thanks, I couldn't take these guys on me anymore. - I tell the redhead who smiles at me.

- Don't worry princess, I know that this whole situation must be very embarrassing and difficult for you, and having these guys drooling over you shouldn't improve the situation. - I laugh at your speech and shake my head in agreement. When he was about to leave, I took courage and talked to him.

- Wait.

- Yes? - He turns to me with a questioning look on his face.

- Y-you're Jason's friend, aren't you?

- I believe so. - He laughs and then continues. - Why?

I hesitated, I didn't know exactly what to ask, or rather, how to ask, I didn't want this to be more embarrassing than it already was, I look around, and see that Jason was far away, I take a deep breath and then ask the best man.

- What's he like? I mean, what is he really like? - The redhead scratches the back of his neck and looks around.

- We'd better go to a more reserved place. - He points to me following him, and so I did. The place we went to wasn't far from there, but it was empty, and I was relieved to be away from all that crowd, I analyze the place, and I see that from there it is possible to see the sea, and far away there were some islands where one of the villages of the kingdom of Gotham was.

- What did you hear about him? - Roy asks me, I was silent for a few seconds trying to find the right words.

- In the beginning, when they told me I was getting married, I heard things that weren't very good, to be honest. - The best man signals me to continue. - They had told me that he was an indomitable warrior, that he killed several people brutally, that he destroyed villages, and among other things like that.

- Hm, I'm not going to lie, that's true, Jason really did it. - Okay, that made me more nervous, my god, what man did I marry? Roy must have noticed my concern and spoke quickly afterward. - But he isn't just that. I mean, what most people know is his brutality, his stubbornness, and his skills as a warrior, but believe me, what I said in the speech is true, under that supposed "monster" that people call him, deep down, he's a very nice guy, he may not be very open with people, but if you give him time, and if you’re willing to meet him, I’m sure you’ll see a different guy than people usually say.

I nod, I don't think he would lie about Jason, would he? at least he didn't seem to be lying… and well, he didn't tell me exactly what Jason is like, so maybe he wants me to figure this out on my own.

- We better get back now. - Roy says pointing with his head to where the party was.

- Yes ... but I want to stay here for a little while. - He agrees and doesn't seem to want to insist, so he decides to go back to the party and leave me there alone.

I keep watching the sea and the whole landscape and general, I shiver a little because of the cold wind, it wasn't winter yet, but temperatures had already started to drop a lot. I got a slight fright when I realized that Jason was there, how did I not notice him coming?

- Sorry. - He says while scratching the back of his neck, I just shake my head and say that everything was fine.

- Are you alright? - Jason asks me after some time of silence.

- Yes, I just ... I was feeling a little suffocated with so many people. - I answer him as I nervously stroked my arm.

Who did I want to fool? Nothing was okay, there was no way to be okay, but even so, I thought I had to say I was okay so as not to disturb people. Jason seemed to want to say something, but he gives up and just keeps quiet.

- Maybe ... we'd better go back now. - I say going towards the party, but I'm stopped by Jason who took my wrist, but that he soon moves away. - Hmm?

- Are you sure you're okay? You can stay here longer if you need to.

- It's okay, and my parents will freak out if I disappear for a long time. - I have a little laugh when I think about it, and my husband laughs too, but I couldn't tell if it was because of what I said or by nervous, but it didn't matter that much. But before we go to the party, I take a deep breath and say. - Jason?

- Yes?

I automatically regretted it, why did I do it? I didn't even know what to say to him, so why did I call him? But now I had to say something, but what? Maybe I just wanted to talk to him to know more about him… but I was awful trying to talk to people.

- It's nothing, forget it. - I speak shaking my head and heading towards the party, and Jason comes right behind me.

I decide to sit a little at my chair at the big table so I can rest for a while, but I should suspect that this would not last too long, but when I look at whoever came to my side I am surprised to see that she was one of the flower girls, the one who was dancing with Jason, who believed her name was Lian.

- Hi Princess. - She says smiling at me.

- Huh, hi. - I say trying to return the smile.

- I wanted to say that I can't wait for you and Uncle Jason to have beautiful and cute babies, and know that I will always be willing to take care of them and hug and play with them a lot. - It looked like she was going to say something else, but Roy interrupts her by covering her mouth and taking her away.

- Sorry princess, my daughter doesn't know when it isn't convenient to speak. - He apologized for the girl and looked a little annoyed with her, he turns and says something to the flower girl something like "we've talked about this before Lian".

- It's okay, she wasn't disturbing.

- Are you sure? - He asks me while leaving his daughter free.

- How can this cuteness like me bother someone daddy? - Lian spoke convincingly and made me laugh.

- It's ok. - He agreed with his daughter's speech.

- Can I talk to the princess, daddy? - She asks looking at him piously, making the redhead sigh and then look at me.

- If it's okay for the princess.

- It's okay with me. - I say and I could see the girl jumping excitedly.

- Okay. But if she bothers you, let me know that I'm coming to get her. - The best man as he said left me alone with the flower girl, who sits in the chair next to me where Jason was previously.

- Your dress is very beautiful, princess.

- Thank you. Your dress is also very beautiful.

- Truth. But yours is much more incredibly beautiful.

- Huh, well... Thank you. - I say smiling.

- And Uncle Jason is also very handsome today. - She spoke looking at Jason who was talking to some people, I looked at him for some time, then I ask Lian.

- So you mean he's not normally handsome?

- Not when he wears that hideous armor that he wears almost always. It gets much better this way. - I end up laughing at the girl's speech, sometimes I forgot how sincere the children could be.

- Hey princess.

- Please, call me y/n.

- Then I will call you auntie y/n since you are my uncle's wife, that makes you my aunt, isn't it?

- Well, I think so. - I shrug and keep looking at Jason who was still talking to the guests whom I had no idea who they were.

- So, Auntie y/n, how did you and Uncle Jay meet?

I freeze for a moment, she really should believe that this was a real marriage, I mean, it was a real one, but it was arranged, and she certainly didn't know about it, and I didn't want to ruin her happiness.

- Well... it's a long story, you'll be bored. - I say trying to change the subject.

- I will not! I swear! And I have a long time to listen to you. - She says smiling hoping that I will tell her the story. What did I do now? If I lied, at one time or another she would discover that what I told was false, but if I told the truth... I couldn't tell that it was a forced marriage for her. I take a deep breath trying to find something to say.

- You are too young to hear this story. - I say, trying to get away from that, I had to change the conversation.

- But what it could have that I couldn't hear? Even more, I am very mature for my age, so tell me! Pleeeease! - I realized that she wasn't going to forget that and she wasn't going to stop until I told her.

- Hm, I need to talk to your father first to find out if he agrees to tell you this story, but for now, why don't we get some cake? - She nods and we went to get cake, it seems that I managed to get away from this temporarily, for how long I didn't know.

After we got cake and went back to the table, we talked about different subjects, and I was able to enjoy and discover some things about Jason talking to her, they were kind of silly things, but I admit they were cute too.

We talked until my mom came up to me and said that I should socialize with other people, I apologize to Lian and that I had to talk to some people, she understood and then went to her father.

I look nervously at the people around me, there were few that I knew, and I wasn't exactly a social person, so I didn't know who I should talk to or what to talk to. So I tell my mom that I didn't know who I should talk to, and then she said that to anyone, as long as I spoke to someone because it was not cool for the bride to ignore her guests, she then drags me over to where Jason was talking to some people.

- Huh, hi. - I say awkwardly when I approach them. At first, I was nervous about what to say, but they didn't seem to care and were kind and nice to me, I soon found out that they were Clark Kent and Diana Prince.

We talked for a while until my mom looked at me and signaled that I should talk to the rest of the guests too, Jason also seems to have understood what my mother had gesticulated and soon tells Clark and Diana that we had to talk to some other guests and that we would talk again later.

The good side is that Jason wasn't afraid to intrude on the conversation of others and start talking to them, so I didn't have to start the conversation, but to comment when necessary.

I don't know how long we stayed in this conversation with the guests, but I know it was a long time. In one of our conversations, we are interrupted by b/f/n.

- Hey y/n! It's time to throw the bouquet! - She said taking me to the area where I was supposed to stay and then gives me the bouquet.

- Okay. - I say nervously.

- PEOPLE! BUQUET TIME! - b/f/n shouts calling everyone to the women to get together so I can throw the bouquet.

- Is everyone ready? - I ask the people who answer in chorus a yes.

- 3… 2…. 1! - I count and then throw the bouquet, when I turn around I find that it was b/f/n who took the bouquet, and knowing her as I know her, she must have done everything and pushed everyone to get that bouquet.

Well, now I could sigh with relief, because soon the party was over, not before Jason and I had to say goodbye to all the guests. When it finished, several servants arrived to start cleaning up the mess that the place had become.

But even though the party was over, that night wasn't over yet. I go to my room, it was obvious that was going to happen, so the only thing I could do was try to get ready for that, right?

But I didn't know exactly what to do now, should I go to his room the way I'm now? Should I shower and put on some comfortable clothes or sexy clothes? I mean, I didn't even know if I had any clothes for that moment. I looked through all my bags for something that was good, but I sighed in frustration when I couldn't find something good enough. Well, I guess I should use whatever I like, shouldn't I? And it's not like he's going to run from me, at least I hoped it wouldn't.

I took a hot shower and when I left I put on shorts along with a tight tank, it might not be a very sexy outfit, but I think it was better than nothing, isn’t it? I even thought about putting on a bra for a brief moment, but fuck it, I wasn't going to use this to sleep, especially when, well, if that was really going to happen, it's one less thing, isn't it?

I dry and comb my hair, letting my hair down. I stop and think what I would put on my feet, I hesitated for a moment, but I put on my dear slippers, and oh, how nice it was to wear something comfortable.

I look at myself in the mirror in my room, everything will be fine, I have to calm down. I sigh nervously before going to the door and leaving my room, now I had another problem, where the hell was his bedroom? And would he be there? When one of the servants passed by me, I decide to stop him and ask him.

- Huh, excuse me sir, but could you tell me where Prince Jason's bedroom is?

- Of course, princess y/n, follow me.

The sir who guided me seemed to be in his 50s or 60s, but I couldn't say for sure, he had gray hair, but I think his hair was once black, and his eyes were a light blue. He guided me through that giant place until we got to a door, which I assumed was Jason's room.

- We arrived princess, feel free. - He spoke and did a little reverence.

- Huh, thank you. - I tell him before he leaves. I look at the door and I'm hesitant, I could feel the butterflies in my stomach and my whole body trembling, because of jitters and a little cold too. I take a deep breath and knock on the door to get it over with.

- Who is it? - I hear his voice, he seemed to be a little angry for some reason, and of course, it didn't improve my situation.

- I-it's me, y / n.

- Huh… ok, you can come in. - He said in a softer voice than before.

I open the door to his room and when I enter I realize that he was undoing his tie, he must have arrived there shortly. Jason lifts his head and starts looking at me, and I can feel my face heat up.

- Hum, do you need anything? - He clears his throat, but even though I wasn't looking at him, I could feel his gaze on me.

How was I going to say that? Hey! Time to have sex isn't it? Why else do you think I would be here in your room wearing these clothes? But of course, I didn't have the courage to say that. I bite my lips for a moment before I answer him.

- You know. - I say as I close the door behind me.

- Got it. - There was a moment of awkward silence between the two of us, what was I supposed to do? Talk to him? Kiss him? To be honest, the only thing I really wanted to do at that moment was to sleep since it had been days since I had adequate sleep, let's say sleeping in a carriage is not the best thing in the world.

- Are you sure you want to do this? - He asks me after some time, he approaches me, but there was still a distance between us.

- That's what everyone wants, isn't it? - Jason takes a deep breath and seems to think a lot about what he would say.

- Look, let's be frank here. It's just the two of us now, we don't have to pretend to be happy now just to please those fucking nobles. - His voice starts to get angry again, which made me shrink a little. - It doesn't depend on them, it depends on both of us, and if you don't want that, you don't have to.

I look at him for a moment, then look away again.

- You… won't you… make me do this?

- Of course not! I don't know what the fuck you heard about me, but believe me, I would never do that. - In a way I feel a little more relieved to hear that. - We don't need to do this if you don't want to.

I was silent thinking about what I could answer.

- And you... don't want that?

- No. I mean, yes, of course I would, but not in that forced way, and not because of other people.

- I understand. - I can feel tears filling my eyes, but I don't know exactly why, maybe they were relief? or maybe from all the stress I went through? I don’t know. But I held on so they wouldn't fall, I didn't want him to see me cry.

- I need to shower now. - He grabs some wardrobe clothes and a bath towel, and so he went into the bathroom, without saying anything else.

My heart was still beating very fast, and that feeling of butterflies in my stomach continued, I let my tears fall and then wipe it away. I had to put together myself, I breathe calmly and lie down on his bed, which was incredibly soft. Why did I lie there? Well, I thought that even if we weren't going to do that, if I left his room for mine, people would know that we didn’t have sex and would be filling me up because of it. When I was almost asleep, I hear the bathroom door opening.

- Huh, are you going to stay here? - He asked me before going to turn off the lights.

- If I leave here, it will be obvious that we didn't do that, and people will ask us questions, and I just want to avoid that. But if you want, I can go back to my room. - I say avoiding looking at him.

- No, you don't have to. - He climbs on the bed and then we were both silent, even if it was a strange situation, something told me that I would have to get used to it, I just sigh and try to sleep, which didn't take much effort since I was very tired.

=-=-=-=-=

A / n: chapter 2 finished! :D I hope you liked it, I feel like maybe it didn't look as good as the first one, but I think it was because I had a little headache/sleep and it makes me write some nonsense things, but I really hope that everything I wrote makes sense, btw, I had even written another ending, but it would be very different from how I wanted it to be because that ending they were starting to get along really well, and I didn't want that yet, but I hope this ending was good, it was inspired again by @writingblock101 fanfic, especially the ending since I didn’t know how to do it, so sorry if it looks like it, and if you don’t feel good about it I can try to find another way to finish this chapter.

Maybe I'll post the other ending in another post if someone wants to read it, and not that that ending is bad, but I think it would be confusing because of the next chapters where they are slowly trying to get closer. Anyway, Idk how to explain it, but you will understand what I mean in the next chapters.

I really hope you enjoyed this chapter, any English errors, or if you think something is very confusing, please let me know.

Until the next chapter!

See ya!

- Ina -

Masterlist

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uncannycyke · 3 years

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Jason Aaron doesn’t understand the Phoenix, but I guess it doesn’t mattered because he’s warped and mangled the Phoenix anyway!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I want to pop him like a pimple

NO HE DOESN’T. i was just talkin abt it like. i think writers get really attracted to the phoenix as this “all powerful powerup! fire aesthetics!” without knowing shit about its lore or how it works or why it matters. i think phoenix: endsong was the last good phoenix story and pak was the last writer who had anything meaningful to say about it.

the phoenix isnt a fuckin space powerup and if you think it is, you shouldn’t be writing about it! also the entire idea that he’s made the avatar of the phoenix some prehistoric redhead is so???? like?? no??? the phoenix never gave a shit that jean was a redhead, it’s not some stupid coincidence. the phoenix wanted to feel human and was attracted to jean’s humanity. once u make the phoenix itself more human-like, you’ve forgotten the point of the phoenix imo

#Anonymous

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worlldburn · 3 years

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💍 remi and greyson, 👕xy and asher (maybe around the peak of her pregnancy), 🔁💢 leo and peyton

💍 : our muses are mistaken for a couple by someone else .

“Isn’t she just darling?” Greyson hummed as the waitress could hardly contain her compliments towards the couple. Aesthetically, their chemistry, it all just seemed to work without flaw. Despite her sure protest to come, a broad arm stretched across the table and captured her hand. A smile instantly upturned a cheeky grin on his lips. “I asked her to marry me but she’s still thinking about it.” He lied for his own amusement. “But I’ve decided to wait for her decision. Rather her evaluate her moral decisions than lose her, you know? Always leaving wanting more. What can I say?” He teased as a nod to their less than morally sound conenction.

👕 : your muse helps my muse get dressed after my muse sustains an injury or illness .

“Give me your foot!” Asher groaned. It had been nearly a half hour of pacing across the floor and waiting for her to be ready. Most days he was sympathetic but when it came to a client’s brunch, the stress definitely overcame him. His newest pursuit at his label was the biggest he’d ever pursued, pulling more-so towards a professional wholesome type of vibe. What was more wholesome than his angelic, glowing girlfriend with her full baby bump on display. “I’m sorry. I’m just.. antsy.” Asher was nervous though he wouldn’t admit it. He dropped to his knee, the tension exposing his ankles in his as she knelt in his tight dress slack. He took her foot onto her knee and began to tie her shoe, looking up at her innocently. “I appreciate you coming. I know you haven’t been feeling the best.. but just go this brunch without squirting like a punctured water balloon and I think this deal is mine.” The man teased before placing a gentle kiss on Xyla’s forehead.

💢 : my muse picks mine up yours & carries them over their shoulder .

BIG TIME HAPPY LEYTON AU The ticking on clock seemed ceaseless, five o’clock never quite coming soon enough. She’d had a plan. One that was long forgotten as she grabbed her keys and bolted out the door. A beaming grin was present on her cheeks as she rode the winding backroad to Leo’s shop, the parking lot bustling with customers in a hurry and his staff acting quickly. A sea of furrowed brows was all Peyton saw as she strutted back them gleefully. It was likely the absence of her typical cynical scowl that had them all rather puzzle but the redhead was riding a high too glorious to be damaged by her resting bitch face. Leo broad shoulders were cast together as he scribbled on a clipboard, his waist open access for her to snake her arms around. “Hey, I figured you were busy. That’s why you weren’t answering your phone. I called like a hundred times which I don’t normally do but it really couldn’t wait. I really tried though, honey. I really did but,” Peyton rambled, words tripping over one another on the way out of her mouth. He’d likely never seen her so outwardly giddy but it couldn’t be contained in the same way other emotions could. Her arms aiding in spinning him around to face her, “Okay. I’ll provide the drum roll.” She teased as she let her hands drum a rhythm against his chest as she looked up at him adoringly. As her hands ceased their rapid movements, her features immediately lit up. “I’m pregnant. Like, actually. Really, really.” Peyton squealed as Leo scooped her up. Her arms fought to hold onto to him but she knew he wouldn’t drop her. Red fingertips curled into his hair as she placed a kiss on the side on his head, laughing with a childlike wonder. She then teased, slung over his shoulder, “I never thought you’d be so excited about being stuck with me.”

#greyson & remi #asher & xyla #leo & peyton #answered: ask meme #pregnancy tw #writingail

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a-totally-legit-farm · 4 years

Text

Marmalade’s Winter’s Star Party

// Hey y’all, this year I was Shio’s ( @stardeworanges ) secret santa for our discord community secret santa! It took me forever but I present to you ‘Marmalade’s Winter’s Star Party’, a story with a bit of fluff, a bit of edge, and then some more fluff, with some guest appearences in there too.

The full version can be found under the cut, or you can read the story HERE.

I hope you like it shio!!

Word Count: 3022

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Marmalade looked down at her latest accomplishment: a small stack of laminated cards, each one addressed to the friends she had made – her Valley family. There were about 50 cards, everyone from Sebastian to Gus was invited. Names embossed in cursive detailed the addressee of each invitation. The orange-haired woman was so proud of her little cards – she had designed them from scratch, from the colours on the bordering, to the little intricate mistletoe and stars adorning the corners. They were her own little doodles, quite well-done considering Marmalade had never considered herself an artist. In all honesty, Marm had gone a little over the top with these preparations, which had become obvious after she had created a 50-page binder complete with individual greetings, an array of feast meals and cocktails, and even mood boards to pin the perfect aesthetic. But she had a mission, and by Yoba, she would do whatever it took to achieve it.

Her smile softened. The Winter’s Star had always meant so much to her. When she was a little girl, she’d always visit her grandpa for his Winter’s Star festivities. Many a memory was dotted with her kind grandpa’s grin, the smell of warm cocoa, and the flashing of festive lights; the raucous of townspeople sharing hot drinks and good food. But those memories were fading with age, and Marmalade knew that she had to take up the mantle. She was going to throw the perfect Winter’s Star feast. She was going to honour her grandpa’s legacy.

And the next step to doing so was dispersing these slick-looking invitations to their rightful owners. Most important on her list was Clark, her best friend, and the newly appointed mayor. She hadn’t seen him in a few days – the farmhand had been tied up with bureaucratic red tape left behind by a spiteful Lewis. The poor man had been running circles around the town, attempting to get at least somewhere with his new legislation. Well, there was at least a slim silver lining to that storm cloud – Marmalade knew exactly where he would be.

It was a short walk from the farm to the town, though the brisk winter winds would require a Winter’s Star sweater, and of course, the tackier the better. She scanned her drawer for the best candidate: a red and white wool monstrosity, with “Orange you glad it’s winter” knitted in a box. Perfect. The sweater slipped on, gloriously awful pun present in yellow text, a pair of oranges decorating the inscription. She wrapped a scarf around her bare neck, her orange locks falling over the dark, soft material. Finally, she swung her backpack on, filled with a water bottle, some orange slices, and the crux of it all, her invitations.

Without a misstep, Marmalade was out the door, the brisk winter winds and the ankle-deep snow neither bothering nor hindering the ginger on her mission. Winter always brought a unique beauty to the Valley, bare skeletons of trees sleeping for the winter, and those brilliant blue berries poking up through the white terrain. One of Marmalade’s favourite sights had to be spotting the holly berries and crocus flowers in the dense snow. Wet gravel crunched under her feet as Marmalade trekked on. Her mental checklist of places to stop kept growing. Gotta invite Pippa and Rue and Dae! I’ll stop on the way. And I’m sure Cherry will be home – and maybe Nikoma and Jenna will come… Then I should stop at Pierre’s for some more supplies. Oh, and of course, Clark, in the town hall!

She smiled once more to herself.

Winter 26th was going to be the best Winter’s Star party anybody had ever been to!

_______________________________________________________________

Clark ran his fingers through his dense, blond curls, the toll of being constantly busy affecting the usual lustre of his hair. He grimaced at the paperwork in front of him, feeling each and every monotonous, tedious word sap strength from his dwindling will to keep reading. He loved being mayor. He loved the warm appreciation of the townsfolk as he walked the streets of the Valley, he loved the constant support and trust. He loved that he was elected the Mayor. He did not love the piles of paperwork constantly inhabiting his in-tray, perched eternally on the right of his desk. The dark circles under his eyes evident of his sleeplessness, his expression stony as he stared down the stack of sheets sitting, waiting, mocking – Clark wanted nothing more than to slam his head into the desk. He pulled at his red tie, loosening its grip around his wrinkled, white button-up shirt, sleeves cuffed awkwardly around his tanned wrists. That was one thing he did miss – the blue jeans, the red flannel, the straw hat, but there was something about office-wear that really made his pecs look juicier, so he was willing to compromise. A groan escaped him, forcing its way through his teeth, as his eyes wandered towards the window, looking for anything to fuel his procrastination…

And as if summoned by Yoba himself, Marmalade burst through his office door, face alight with happiness.

She was a radiant beam of sunlight in the poorly lit office, and she couldn’t help but bring a grin to Clark’s mug. Her silly holiday sweater procured a chuckle from the exhausted ex-farmhand – it was just like Marm to be a walking pun. The woman basically bounced to the front of his desk, striking a little pose before rummaging through her pack. It was obvious Marmalade was very excited, and Hayesmith was ready for whatever the exuberant redhead was going to throw at him.

“Mayor Clark,” Marmalade’s voice rung with a silliness that she only showed around her closest friends, “I would like to cordially invite you to Miss Marmalade’s Winter Star feast party!” She slapped down the invitation on top of all of his paperwork, its festive design a winter star compared to the drab documents underneath. Clark let out another one of his gruff chuckles. “Not even a howdy before the theatrics.” Marmalade’s face went a shade of bashful pink, the playful act dialled back a bit from the cowboy’s ribbing.

“Now y’know I’m jokin’ there, Marm. I’d be pleased to make it.” He lifted the card up, inspecting the calligraphy – Clark Hayesmith, You are invited to my Winter’s Star party, 6 PM on Winter 27th. See you there! He tucked the invitation away in his pocket – it had been a while since the man had been able to socialise, and he was looking forward to the opportunity.

“Say Marm, who’ve you invited to this lil’ shindig?” Oh, how Marmalade had missed his deep, soothing drawl – and boy did she have a list of names for him. “Well, Pippa and her crew are coming, and Clive, uhh Sebastian and Maru said they would come, Red and Derek, Abigail… Nikoma sighed at me and said ‘fine’ so I’m assuming he’s coming… Jenna and Haley said yes too! Oh, and Jenna has an assistant now? And Amelia, Ainsley, Edel…” The names kept coming, and Clark’s excitement to flex his social and physical muscles was only growing.

“Trust me darl’, I’ll be there, I wouldn’t miss it for th’world . Now, I better get a hustle with this work, or I’ll be stuck here till the party’s over.” Clark shook his head in exaggerated despair, and Marmalade let out a small chuckle. “Okay Clark. See you at the party!”

“See y’all at the party, Marm.” Clark waved as Marm hurried out the door, the farmer eager to deliver the rest of her invitations. The new mayor-elect pulled out his invitation once more.

He grinned, and for the first time in what seemed like days, he actually wanted to finish his paperwork. A party clearly makes for a mighty fine motivator.

Winter 27th was going to be the best Winter’s Star party he’d ever been to.

_______________________________________________________________

It was 7:56 PM on Winter 26th.

The ticking of the kitchen clock on the wall had drove her crazy. It now laid facedown on the tiled floor.

Marmalade glared at the door. She sat alone, at her dining table, 34 different plates of food sitting, cold, untouched, abandoned on the dark cherry wood, uncovered and unprotected from the cold night air. The fire had burned out about half an hour ago – what was the point of keeping a fire burning if no one was here to stay warm?

Marmalade glared at the door. She hadn’t touched any of the food she had slaved the day away cooking. She hadn’t had a sip of the punch, or the soup, or the wine. She was at first waiting for someone to come, to share the food with, but after an hour of sitting alone she had thoroughly lost her appetite.

Marmalade glared at the door – only pausing to wipe the tears defiantly escaping her eyes. She had told herself she wouldn’t cry. It didn’t matter if no one had come. She was sure there were reasons why they hadn’t come, but no one had even called to inform her. Maybe they just weren’t her friends. She had always thought that at least a few of the farmers had been left with good impressions of her. The anti-social ones, she understood – those like Katherine, afraid of people, or Nikoma, annoyed by people – but the extroverts? Cherry? Pippa? Red? Where were they?

The only conclusion Marmalade could come to was they didn’t care. They must have had other plans, or had forgotten, they must have been too busy with their lives to remember Marmalade’s party. She sniffled, wiping away more tears that had forced their way down her face. She had to reason with herself. After all, yesterday was the Winter’s Star Feast, and everyone would be tired…

Even Clark, her best friend, her old farmhand, was too busy for her. It must have been his new job…

Marmalade glared at the door. The door swung open. Tension was almost palpable in the air as Marmalade tensed up – tears at this point were streaming over her blushed cheeks, make-up running. Clark walked in, sighing. He had yet to look up, his head was hung low, the strain of sitting at a desk all day leaving a myriad of cricks in his neck and back.

The cowboy could tell Marmalade was in earshot, and he called out while taking his shoes off. “Hey Marm, excited for your party tomor-…” Finally, his gaze swung up to meet Marmalade’s glare.

Time froze as he scanned the room; the festive decorations, the tinsel-covered tree, the holly and mistletoe and wreaths hanging from every possible point. The banquet of food laid out in spectacular fashion. The poor, lonely woman, sitting isolated amongst the festivities.

Uh-oh.

Marm broke down. The floodwalls failed, and she began sobbing, only quietly, but there was no other noise – all Clark could hear was Marmalade’s soft weeping. Immediately, he moved towards her, trying to protectively wrap himself around her, in an attempt to shield the orange-haired woman from what had happened in her own dining room. She protested, albeit weakly, beating closed fists against his brawny chest. It didn’t last long, as those beating fists uncurled into fingers gripping his shirt, knuckles clenched white, the fabric a lifeline to Clark as Marmalade pressed her tear-soaked face into him.

Clark didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t even entirely sure what happened – her party wasn’t supposed to take place until tomorrow evening… Unless she didn’t know that. The invitations must have been wrong. The cowboy shook his head. All of Marmalade’s meticulous planning, all of her expertise and effort, left to rot because of a typo on the invitations. Clark knew what he had to do.

Clark continued to hold Marm as she wept out her grievances, Clark affirming her and hushing her softly. It didn’t take long for Marmalade’s crying to slow – it was clear now, obviously the town didn’t hate her. But it didn’t matter. The party was a failure, and she had spent so much time and effort and money on this one, she had nothing left to throw another one. It was all a waste, and everyone was going to be disappointed.

All Clark could do was hold the woman, assuring her that the townsfolk wouldn’t be mad. He told her stories about his failed events in the past, about his week and all the mess-about that went into being mayor, about how people were kind, and forgiving, especially in these parts. For about 40 minutes, the pair laid spread out on the on the cold tiled floor, Marmalade’s head still on Clark’s chest, time passing in an emotion-filled haze.

It was 9:03 PM on Winter 26th, according to Clark’s wristwatch.

He knew exactly what he had to do to make this right. As Marmalade drifted to sleep, he swept her up, and escorted her to her bed – and then he was out the door. He knew most of the farmers and townsfolk would be winding down for the night, but if he knew this Valley, he knew that they would come together for something this important, especially for the mayor.

Well no, actually.

They’d come together, especially for Marmalade.

Clark had to make sure that Winter 27th was going to be the best Winter’s Star party Marmalade had ever been to.

_______________________________________________________________

It was 9:04 AM on Winter 27th, according to the clock Marmalade had picked up off the floor.

She was still a little down – she had thrown all the wasted food in the bin, and tried to salvage what had kept, but it all felt like a big mistake. She was now sitting at the dining table, staring absent-mindedly at the door. Clark was nowhere to be seen, again, as always. The farmer didn’t want to walk out that door, didn’t want to have to tell everyone the party was cancelled.

But she was a brave woman, and she’d let most of the negativity out last night. She wasn’t ready to do it yet, though. No, she’d check the mail, and then finish her coffee. Then she’d set off to let the public know of her shame.

The woman stood up, stretching her haunches, mug of hot, black coffee clutched tightly. A small amount of the life-saving ichor had stained the sleeve of her long sweater, but that was fine, it was just a pyjama top anyway. The soft fleecy fabric was a latte-foam tan, with the sleeves slightly too long, and honestly, the small brown stains added to the look. Marmalade ambled towards the door, procrastinating her eventual exposure to the outside elements.

It was just the mail.

She’d have to face the world eventually.

She swung the door open – and dropped her mug.

Laid out on the front lawn, cleared of snow, was tables of food. Fresh prepared meats, plates of berries and fruits – all in season, all garnished with those dark green leaves that survived the winter chill – bowls of punch and liquor and crates of wine laid out, hot coffee and soups simmering over small fires. And with it all, stood all the farmers she had invited to yesterday’s party.

Warm smiles from familiar faces all began turning towards Marmalade, the breaking of ceramic and the splashing of coffee alerting the people laying out this feast on her front lawn. It felt like a dream – the slow roll of applause started to crawl across the crowd, and before long they were all cheering at (or cheering for, more likely) Marmalade.

Friends and acquaintances from all around the Valley were present – she immediately noticed the tall figures of Barclay, Rue and Bernard, discussing fishing in the mines (a very controversial topic, apparently), with Pippa and Red inspecting the miner’s latest find close by. Edel, Katherine, Mona and Amelia sipped at Kat’s latest champagne, the bubbly enticing enough to drink even this early in the morning. Alex and Cherry were carving roast chicken, while Ainsley and Delaney seemed to be debating what exactly defined a ‘soup’. Jenna and Haley chatted away with Vi, Percival and a pair of siblings who Marmalade hadn’t seen before – but they were all far too dressed up, clearly. Even the recluses had turned out; Anderson and Morrison stood at the end of a table, alone, and Nikoma sat in a pile of snow, flask in hand. And that wasn’t even most of the people Marmalade could recognise – about 60 bodies, more than she had ever invited, stood around, having a good time, eating food and drinking merrily, just as she had envisioned for her party…

And right, smack-bang in the middle of them all was Clark, those new, dark rings under his eyes the blackest she’d ever seen them. He had been up all night, corralling the locals into coming together, pooling their resources, cooking and brewing and shovelling snow, to throw Marmalade the best Winter’s Star party that she had ever been to.

Marmalade hopped over the shattered mug, and ran straight into his arms, once again pressing her face into his broad chest. There was no way this was all happening, and yet, it seems Clark had made it happen.

A few tears stained that same, white shirt he was wearing last night.

“Thank you so much, Clark! Thank you…”

Clark smiled warmly, his tired eyes softening as he patted Marmalade on the back.

“Not a worry in the world, Marm. You know I -… You know this town would do anything for you.”

Marmalade could feel the kindness in her soul, the flame that had been doused last night, reignite within her. She couldn’t ask for anything more, to be surrounded by those she lives with, to supply the space for her community to be happy, to be safe, and to have a good Winter’s Star. To take up the mantle of her grandfather. She pulled herself from Clark, and looked around at all of her friend’s faces, warm drinks and good food in their hands.

This was going to be the best Winter’s Star party ever.

#long post #secret santa 2019 #stardeworanges #drabble #event drabble #i hope you like it shio!!!!!

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unfolded73 · 4 years

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Just a Day (1/1) - schitt’s creek ff

Christmas-related fluff, that’s all this is. David and Rachel run into each other and have a talk. Rated G, ~2500 words

David was focused on cookie ingredients with single-minded determination.

Clutching the hand-written list from Marcy, he squinted at the shelf in Patrick’s home-town grocery store (the store where a tiny Patrick had once thrown a screaming tantrum over being denied Froot Loops, if Clint was to be believed), looking for his prey. Spotting the brown sugar, David threw two bags into his cart and moved on to the confectioner’s sugar.

He didn’t have a pen on him, so he tried to mentally check off each item as he put it in the cart. He didn’t want to forget anything for today’s Christmas cookie-baking extravaganza, a Brewer family tradition that David would be participating in for the first time. Rose Apothecary safely in the hands of their two employees for the week, David and Patrick were taking their first Christmas off since they opened the store. Thus, here David was on a quest from his mother-in-law, shopping in an unfamiliar store for cookie ingredients.

David zeroed in on the holiday-themed sprinkles next. (“Just get more red, I have plenty of green,” Marcy had said and then immediately widened her eyes at him in a slightly panicked expression, “unless we should get some Hanukkah colors, David?”) He was so engrossed in the sprinkle options that he didn’t notice the woman staring at him from further down the aisle at first. It wasn’t until he turned to head back to the dairy case that he came face-to-face with the familiar redhead.

Without saying anything, they took each other in. He’d never spoken a word to Rachel, but he recognized her immediately from that one awful afternoon his family tried to have a barbeque to celebrate his relationship with Patrick, and later, pictures of Patrick and Rachel together that peppered the Brewers’ family photo albums. She seemed to recognize him as well, despite the brief time they’d had to take each other in.

“Marcy’s making cookies?” Rachel asked with a smirk and a gesture to his cart, as if they weren’t total strangers who only shared in common that one moment, when David learned Patrick was once engaged and Rachel learned that Patrick was gay. As if they’d already gotten the uncomfortable acknowledgements of who they were to each other out of the way.

David nodded. “Yes, she has a very ambitious list of cookie recipes.”

“Don’t underestimate her; she plans her baking like she’s planning a major military operation.” Because of course Rachel had shared some of these holiday traditions with the Brewers, how could she not have? All of these things that David was attempting to navigate on his absolute best behavior, trying to be the perfect husband and son-in-law, Rachel had already done. For just a second, he hated her for that.

“I have no doubt,” he said.

“Congrats on the…” Rachel gestured vaguely. “I heard you guys got married. And I saw some pictures on Facebook.”

David wrinkled his nose at that — not that she had seen pictures, but that there were apparently pictures from his wedding on Facebook. Probably posted by Marcy herself, if he had to guess, or maybe by one of the cousins. David had carefully edited the pictures he’d chosen to post on his own Instagram and had policed what Alexis posted as well; he hated to think what he might look like in these rogue Facebook pictures he hadn’t been aware of.

“We did, thank you,” he said. He tried to think of what else to say, but everything that occurred to him sounded patronizing.

“You don’t have to look so constipated, David. I’m over him. I moved to Toronto and I’m seeing someone else now.”

“I don’t look…” David sputtered before reining himself in. “I mean, I’m glad. That sounds… nice.”

She laughed. “Yeah, I guess it’s nice. How’s Patrick?”

Perfect. He’s a perfect husband and I can’t believe how lucky I am that we found each other. “He’s good.”

“He’s probably been grumpy over hockey lately, huh?”

He had been, because the Maple Leafs had a very bad start to the season (and the fact that David knew even that much was miraculous), but he hated that Rachel was right. “Is that the sport with the sticks?” he said, falling back on his I-don’t-follow-sports persona. Rachel rolled her eyes at him.

There was a part of David that wanted to sit Rachel down and split a bottle of wine (or two) with her and learn everything about Patrick that she knew and he didn’t. All the things that came out of that shared history they had together that David could only know from stories. But there was another part of David that rejected the very premise. The Patrick that Rachel had known wasn’t the real Patrick.

He started to wheel his cart forward again, slowly and with a tilt of his head to indicate she should walk with him. “So you’re in town visiting your family, I presume?” he asked her.

“Yeah. First time bringing the boyfriend home to meet my family, so that’s a whole thing. But we’re just doing the normal Christmas thing, you know. ”

He didn’t know, as neither his experiences with Christmas when the Roses were still rich nor his experiences in Schitt’s Creek fit into the rubric of ‘normal Christmas,’ but he assumed whatever Rachel was talking about fit into the same basic mold as his last couple of days with the Brewers. David nodded.

“This is the first Christmas we’ve been able to get away,” David volunteered. “We finally have enough staff to cover the store.” Then it occurred to him that Rachel might not know anything about the store if she hadn’t talked to Patrick since her one tragic visit to Schitt’s Creek. “We run the general store in town? We sell—”

“I know,” she said, and then averted her eyes to the rows of egg cartons they were passing, which made David stop and look at his list. He needed eggs.

“I follow you guys on Instagram. The store, I mean. I follow the store. I was just… curious what Patrick was doing for a living. And the pictures you post are pretty and sort of… soothing? So I still follow the account.”

David beamed at that as he picked up a carton of eggs and put them in his basket — he worked hard on the Instagram aesthetic for the store, an activity that Patrick occasionally roasted him for. He couldn’t wait to tell him that Rachel followed the Rose Apothecary account because she found it soothing.

Rachel reached over and picked up David’s eggs and opened the carton, scanning the contents. “You have to check and see if any are broken,” she explained. “Also, are twelve eggs enough?”

He threw up his hands. “The list doesn’t say — what do you think, should i get another dozen?”

“Yeah, get another dozen.”

He grabbed a carton, opening it and scanning the eggs for breaks the way Rachel had. “We’ve started carrying local eggs at the store,” he told her. “I didn’t want to at first, but we have a farmer who delivers them to us, and the markup on eggs is better than I thought it would be.”

“I’m glad Patrick’s happy,” Rachel said. “I know you probably don’t believe me, but—”

“In the years I’ve known him, Patrick’s never said a bad word about you, so I have no reason not to believe that you wish him the best.” He checked his list again. “I need to get butter. Marcy did put an amount here,” he said, showing Rachel the list, “but it seems patently ridiculous.”

Rachel laughed. “Four pounds? No, that’s probably right.”

“I’m going to gain so much weight on this trip,” David groaned, moving his cart again.

“Thank you for saying that, about Patrick not speaking ill of me. I worried for a while after that terrible visit to Schitt’s Creek that I’d fucked up his relationship. Especially when a long time went by and his parents didn’t seem to know anything about you guys being a couple.”

David made a weird half-laughing, half-groaning noise. “That’s a whole other long story. But no, you didn’t fuck anything up.” He began loading butter into his cart. “I almost fucked everything up by being an insecure ass about it.”

“He probably should have told you about his past, though,” Rachel said, grabbing a pound of butter for her own cart.

“Yes, well, it’s all ancient history now.” He headed toward the milk and grabbed a gallon.

“Did he ever tell you what he told me about you that day?” Rachel asked, and despite it all being in the past, David’s heart sped up, his palms getting sweaty on the grocery cart handle.

“I don’t remember. I never asked,” David said, rooted there in the dairy section, next to the half and half and the whipping cream.

“This was after he told me you guys were dating, and he gave me his official coming-out speech, I guess. And I shouted at him for not telling me before, and he said he hadn’t realized, and…” She waved her hand to dismiss that memory. “It was very hard to hear, that he’d never felt for me what I felt for him in all those years.”

“I’m sorry,” David said.

“That’s not the part I wanted to tell you. The part I wanted to tell you was that he said he’d fallen in love with you, that already he was imagining spending the rest of his life with you, even though he knew it was too soon to tell you any of that yet.” She smiled. “Since you’re married now I guess the cat is out of the bag, but still, I wanted to tell you how all-in Patrick was, even back then.”

David felt himself tearing up, and he did not want to cry in the dairy case of this grocery store, but it was a lot, hearing that. That Patrick had said he was in love with him, even back then, months before ‘I love you’ became a regular part of their vocabulary. “Thank you for telling me,” he whispered.

“I was horribly jealous of you and I hated you for a while,” Rachel said. “Sorry.”

David scoffed at that. “Oh, don’t worry about that, I’ve been hated by a lot of people in my life.”

“And for the record, you seem to be taking good care of him. I stopped hating you.”

David smirked, turning his cart back toward the baking aisle to get the chocolate chips he’d forgotten. “He takes care of me most of the time.”

“Okay, well, I’m going that way,” Rachel said, pointing over to another part of the store. “It was good to see you, David.”

“You too, Rachel. Merry Christmas.”

~*~

“Hey, do you need mfph—” David interrupted Patrick’s greeting with a kiss, a tote bag in each hand not stopping him from wrapping his arms around his husband and fusing their mouths together. As he pulled away, he saw Marcy glancing at them and smiling before she turned back to the dishes she was washing.

“Yes, I need some help bringing in the groceries,” David said.

‘Okay,” Patrick said mildly, but his eyes said he knew something was up with his husband. David set the totes he was carrying down on the kitchen table and then followed Patrick out to the car.

“Everything okay, David?” Patrick asked as soon as they were out of earshot from his mother.

“Yeah.” But then he stopped and faced Patrick as they stood at the trunk of the car. “Have I ever told you when I realized I might be in love with you?”

Patrick grinned. “I think you told me it was when I sang to you at our first open mic night.”

David put his hands on Patrick’s shoulders, his fingers working gently at the muscles underneath his sweater. “Okay, that was probably when I fell totally and completely in love with you. But there was another moment, before that.”

Patrick wrapped his arms around David’s waist. “Oh yeah?”

“Mm hmm.”

Patrick kissed him gently, just a soft peck of lips on lips. “When was that?”

“It was just a normal day at the store. You’d been helping Alexis study for a test and we had to stay late to do inventory, but I just remember looking over at you and thinking that I was falling in love with you. And then being really freaked out by that thought.”

“I wish I could remember the day you’re talking about,” Patrick said wistfully.

“It was just a day.” David gave him another kiss before disengaging from Patrick and grabbing two more bags to carry into the house. “You should call Rachel,” he blurted.

Patrick shot him a confused look. “I should what?”

“You’ve known each other your whole lives. It just seems a shame to throw that friendship away because—”

“Because I broke her heart?” Patrick said, holding the door open for David.

“She’s over it,” David said, setting the rest of his bags down. On Patrick’s raised eyebrow, he explained. “I saw her at the grocery store. She’s got a boyfriend from Toronto in town with her, apparently. Anyway, I think it would be good for you two to be friends again. ”

Patrick seemed to consider this. “Okay, I’ll call her. Maybe the four of us could go for drinks or something.”

“David, thank you so much for doing the shopping,” Marcy was saying as she unpacked and organized his haul. “Are you ready to learn to bake cookies?”

“Marcy, are you ready for the havoc I’m likely to wreak in your kitchen?”

She gave him a gentle slap on the arm. “I think I can keep you in line, David. Now let me show you how to use the electric mixer.”

David spent the next couple of hours laboring away with Marcy while Patrick went to play hockey with some of his cousins and Clint read a book by the fire. And there was a moment, later, when it struck him. He was chewing on a ginger cookie that he had made with his own hands in the warm embrace of his mother-in-law’s kitchen when his husband came in the front door, scarf secured around his neck and ruddy-cheeked from the cold, and David thought, I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my life. It wasn’t a scary thought. It didn’t portend doom they way he used to think that his rare optimistic thoughts did. Today was just a day in a long line of days with the love of his life, stretched out into the future. David brought Patrick a cookie and kissed him on the cheek and smiled.

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

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tastefullynefarious · 5 years

Text

Torment never looked so goddamn fine

Chapter 1 / 10 - Survivor - Eye Of The Tiger

So... this happened... Season 3 got me feeling all kinds of ways :))

Quick sneak peak into what you’re heading into if you do decide to read this little story of mine.

1) About the 'reader’, she’s one of the kids from the MKUltra project thing, though she’s not nearly as powerful as El. I decided to give her a name instead of the whole Y/N thing, thought...well, you’ll see :)) 10 points to your house if you guess where she picked the name from, hehehe

A little disclaimer about her powers: I actually took the idea from a book i love - Vicious by V.E. Schwabb, so not my idea at all, just borrowing.

2) Wanted to make this ANGST!!! All the angst, but keeps slipping into mushy romance, so I guess it’s somewhere in between :)))

3) Writing this for fun and to give Billy more time to shine. Gone, but never forgotten!

Words: 3,037

Warnings: Really? There’s gonna be a lot, just not in this chapter I think... Also, beware of the aesthetics/moodboards! I live for them.

That being said, hope you enjoy!

Risin' up, back on the street

Did my time, took my chances

Went the distance, now I'm back on my feet

Just a man and his will to survive

Windows rolled down and sunglasses on, she made a sharp turn to exit the highway after checking the map for the hundredth time. It still seemed surreal that her mission was bringing her to Indiana of all places, but she got more and more excited as she approached her destination. Six missing persons reports, one confirmed death and another supposed resurrection, the latter being the last drop that made her come all the way across country. Something shady was going down in that otherwise uneventful town and if it was what she hoped, she would finally put an end to sleepless nights and anxiety ridden days. No more looking over her shoulder wherever she went and perhaps, one day, she'd finally be able to settle down somewhere, have an actual life.

She passed the town sign in a blur. Hawkins, Indiana, Population 30.000 - the last chapter of her epic quest, if fate was on her side, which it usually wasn't. Still, she was hopeful. She deserved a break and most of all, closure. She parked her Chevy in front of the motel just outside town and checked in for the whole week. Now that she was older it was easier to travel, less questions raised. The ID she had was entirely fake, not that she knew the truth to begin with. There were perhaps a few years added to her age if her calculation were remotely correct, but not too much that she'd get comments about it and just enough to go place freely. A smile always plastered on her face and replies like 'visiting family' and 'don't want to impose on them' always gave her a free pass. Motel 6 was no different and before she knew it, she was in her room - lucky number 13 - ready to set her base of operation.

She placed her duffel bag in the middle of the room and checked around. The room itself was nice, though nothing special. There was no option for a room with any kind of kitchenette or even a refrigerator which was a bummer. The bed was queen sized and the mattress comfy, not that she ever slept much. If she worked fast enough, that would hopefully change. The first floor offered enough privacy and opportunity to escape if needed. The bathroom also had a window large enough for her to squeeze through, but the bathtub was what caught her eye. Or the lack of one to be more precise. She was longing for a hot bubble bath, but she'd have to make due with a steaming shower instead. She thought that could be some kind of metaphor for life or something, make due with what life hands you, but didn't dwell on it too much as she went back to her bag and took out a smaller map and her notebook. It was time to get to work. The more time she wasted, the more opportunities 'papa' had to find her. Even in her own mind, the word dripped with venom.

She spent the next 20 minutes reanalyzing the map of Hawkins and reading the news reports on one Will Byers, the boy who came back to life. Her fist guess had been that the lab was taking people again for experiments, but there had been no obvious pattern in the missing people and the girl that died was in highschool, too old to take as a project on and too young to test on. Unless of course she was pregnant, which was still a possibility. The truly weird thing was the boy. Had he escaped? Was the initial 'death' a cover up, but the mother found a way to prove her son was taken? Every news outlet let the world know that the people responsible had been punished, but none mentioned Brenner. Was he still running the place? She circled the empty area on the map where the lab would be and decided she should scout the place out. As she got up from where she was laying on the bed and went to pick up her keys her stomach growled. She'd scout the place, right after she'd eat something.

The store came into view fast, the map of the town already burned in her mind. She parked the car fast and darted inside, the cool air pleasant on her heated skin. She had been wandering for a while from isle to isle, not entirely sure what she wanted to get, when she stumbled upon a girl trying to reach a box of cereal way out of her reach.

"Damn it!" She smiled at the girl, probably not older than 13 and moved towards her.

"Here, I can get that for you."

"Thank you." The girl smiled back kindly and put the box in a cart, barely managing to push it. She watched her for a moment, wincing when the small redhead almost crashed in another customer. Normally, she'd help without question, but she wanted to keep as low a profile as possible. But wasn't not helping even more suspicions? Besides, she was just a child; surely there was no harm in helping one kid.

"Hey, you alone here, kid?"

"I'm alone. Well, my shitty brother was supposed to help, but his lazy ass stayed in the car."

"I can help with the cart if you want."

"You don't have to…"

"Don't be silly, I want to." She moved to push the cart instead, letting the girl hold her basket instead.

"It's really nice of you, thanks. Name's Max, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Max. I'm Sandy." There had a been split second when she thought not go give her name, but almost laughed at the concept: a fake name for her already make-belief one on her ID. They shook hands, the little girl smiling brightly. Sandy wondered if she was usually so open to strangers or was she really dreading to haul herself against the cart any longer. "So, do you still need to get stuff?"

"Just a few." The little girl got a piece of paper out of her back pocket and lead the way through the store. Sandy couldn't help but look at all the products in the cart. Vegetables, milk, flour, at least three types of meat, condiments, all things used to prepare some proper meals. She wondered when was the last time she ate anything besides fast food and chips. As if on cue, Max's voice brought her out of her daydreaming about a steaming plate of Ground Turkey Sweet Potato Skillet. Ah, with lots of garlic! Sandy's mouth was watering from the mere thought of it.

"Is this all you're getting?" She was brought out of her little food fantasy and eyed the items in her own basket: cheap beer and chocolate chi cookies.

"I guess." She smiled sheepishly, biting her lover lip as the little redhead watched her with a raised eyebrow. Sandy raised her shoulders in defeat and just a hint of embarrassment. "I decided I will go out to eat tonight. I think I saw a nice restaurant a little back down the road." The girl's face lit up with the genuine curiosity that came with youth.

"Oh, you're not from Hawkins either?"

"I guess I'm not. And here I was hoping you could tell me if there are any cool places around town." If anyone was going to know know anything about secret lab in the forest it was going to be the kids in town: reckless and not completely aware of the consequences. Maybe that was what happened to the Will boy.

"The Arcade is nice, but other than that I haven't explored much. Basically everything you'll need is downtown though, so you're in the place."

"Thanks, kid." They approached the register and she helped the girl bag her stuff and even carry them since there was no way she could on her own. She was lost in thought again, wondering if she should check the lab first or go eat, when Max spoke again.

"You said you're staying at a motel, right? What brought you to Hawkins if not relatives? You planning to move here"

"Nah, just passing through. I'm a bit of a wandered I suppose."

"That's so cool. You must have been in so many awesome places. And with no one to constantly pester you." Sandy smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. She always felt weird when someone complained about their parents or family in general, when she never had any of her own. But she also never could retort that being raised in a lab was worse than having your mother make you clean your room and finish your homework. Still, she tried to be nice to the kid.

"Ah, you'll see they mean well, your parents."

"It's… it's not my parents. I mean I love my mom, but my step dad and his son are awful." So she was coming from a broken home. Sandy would have given anything even for that distorted version of a family. No matter how annoying and mundane, it would have been 'normal', everything that she wasn't and probably never will be, even after she'd slayed her demon. But she wouldn't let her bitterness show. Max was just a kid, she would grow soon enough and see that family was a bound you found nowhere else. Bld was thicker than water and all that. "And now we moved all the way here. At least when we were in Cali I could still spend weekends with dad."

"I'm sorry, Max. I'm sure you'll see your father will visit when he can. And if not, you'll be old enough to go to him before you know it."

"Not sure Neil would like that very much." Sandy was about to ask if Neil was the step dad, but the girl continued almost immediately. "And then there's the devil himself." She followed her gaze to the blue Camaro and the boy standing on its hood, eyes glaring daggers at either Max or herself.

"That's your brother?"

"Yeah, it's Billy." They were still pretty far from him, but Sandy could see he was, like all devils, a handsome one. From the way his jeans wrapped tightly on his thighs and his opened button shirt, his whole attitude screamed confidence and there were few things sexier than that.

"Well hot damn."

"No, please, not you too. He's a complete tool."

"Hm, most pretty boys are, you'll see soon enough." They giggled as they approached the boy, Sandy sneaking a few looks at his car as well. A tool maybe, but he had good taste.

Billy had been bored out of his mind, despite having parked for only a few minutes. What was taking that little shithead so long to buy whatever Susan had put down on that stupid list? He knew, in the back of his mind, that there was no reason to be so angry, especially at Max, who hated their situation just as much, if not more. After all, her father was still back home and actually wanted to spend time with his kid. Somehow, that thought drove him even madder. His knuckles turned white around the steering wheel, jaw clenching so hard his teeth began to hurt but he didn't mind the pain, he hadn't for a long time. He eyed the store's door, hoping to see Max, but of course he wouldn't, she'd left just a few minutes prior. He just hated waiting, hated being alone with his thoughts in daylight where he knew he would eventually snap at someone, most of the times the little shithead herself. He hated he was so angry all the time, but that only got him angrier still. He was like a bull who fluttered the red flag in front of his own face. Hopeless and useless, he deserved the pain and he deserved being brought all the way to Nowhere, Indiana. They'd been there for only a few days and he was already going stir crazy. The people were idiots, the girls were boring and the whole place was just shit.

He got out of the car for air, closing the door with a little too much force and regretting it immediately. After the hell he went through to getting that Camaro… He let out a long sigh and pressed both hands on the hood, his head hanging in between. He had one year of highschool left and then he could go back to California. He didn't care he had no actual place to stay or plan to make a living for himself. All he needed was his car and some money for gas and food. Once there, he'd figure things out.

When his temper cooled down, he lifted his head and his eyes landed on a red 67 Chevy Impala. It didn't compare to his Camaro, but it was still a beautiful car, despite looking like it had seen better days. He noticed one of the back doors was dented in, the passenger window slightly cracked and the rust eating here and there, definitely in need of a paint job. But otherwise it was in pretty good condition for such an old car. The last thing he noticed was the registration plate - 007 DOL, Florida - and a small turtle sticker placed besides it. His fists clenched as his mind wandered to the beaches again. Why couldn't they have moved closer to any ocean? Florida would have been far away from Max's father to placate Neil and close to his only solace, the beach.

He turned to go after Max at the thought of getting home late and his fathers temper, but stopped when he saw her coming out of the store, a young woman on tow. Both had their hands filled with paper bags, one in each hand. Had the shopping list been so long? He hadn't cared enough to even check. Arms folded as he propped himself on the hood of his car and stared at the girl besides his stepsister. There was nothing particularly impressive about her. She was wearing an ugly plaid shirt, at least twice her size, stuffed in some equally baggy jeans and worn leather boots. He wondered momentarily if she had stolen her father's shirt, before shaking his head and putting her out of his mind. He doubted he would have noticed her if she wasn't in Max's company so there was no need to give her a second thought. But as the two neared him, all giggles and whispers, he saw a glint in her eyes as she looked him up and down and couldn't help the smirk on his lips. Even if there was not much to her, it was always exhilarating to be the cause of that lust-filled stare and even more thrilling to play with it.

"You must be the infamous stepbrother."

"Yeah, thanks for helping her. I'm Billy." He extended his arm to take the bags from Max, but she only gave him the largest one, all while glaring at him. He ignored her, eyes barely leaving the young woman as he popped open the trunk of his car. "And you are?"

"A complete stranger." She was smiling, playing hard to get, but he saw the way she checked him out. She closed the space between them and placed the bags she was holding in the trunk as well. "These are all yours." She smirked as her eyes wandered, accentuating a little cut on her upper lip, barely visible until then. He was about to thank her again, but Max beat him to it, all bouncy and smiling.

"Thanks again for the help, you're a lifesaver." Max handed her the smaller of all the bags and when she wrapped her left hand around it, the sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal some intricate tattoo on her left wrist. "Maybe I'll see you at the Arcade some time."

"Don't mention it, Max. And sure, I'll check it out later" She then moved her eyes on him and he couldn't help but stare at that little cut on her lip as she spoke. It was oddly appealing and if anything it actually made her stand out from the millions of pretty faces.

"Maybe I'll see you around as well, Billy." She winked at him and waved at Max and to his utmost surprise she hopped in the Chevy he had been admiring earlier, 'Eye of the tiger' barely audible from within as she rolled out of the parking lot.

"Who was that?" He had half a mind to follow her as he got in his car and started the engine. He would have if the little shit wasn't with and if Neil wasn't waiting for them to get back. The girl was direct enough to make him believe she was up for a good time. Max rolled her eyes at him, but he let it slide. Who knew the little shithead could be a chick magnet?

"She's new in town too." There was a small pause, her eyes going back and forth from the road to him. "Just passing through though, so don't get your hopes up."

He scoffed, but didn't argue with her, the little shit was obviously lying. The girl was staying long enough if she was making plans to check the Arcade. Long enough for a little one night stand on the back of his car. Or maybe even hers. He had two purposed now. The first, dethrone the so called King Steve. The second, bang mystery Florida girl. Billy decided that if he was going to be stuck for a year in Indiana, he would at least make the most of it.

#stranger things #billy hargrove #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove x oc #love at first sting #fanfiction #i need help #Torment never looked so goddamn fine

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lils-writes · 5 years

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Honey of a Tomato: Day 5

First | < Previous | Day 5 | Next >

AO3

Here’s what happened between Day 3 and 4! The part that I kind of messed up ^^’ I kind of went overboard with this one

Day 5 : Artist / Muse of @chlonathweek

In the 20 years of Chloe’s life, never had she seen such a variety of art supplies in one place. Then again, she had never shown interest in art, so she had never had a reason to find herself in an art shop. But now, standing in of these walls of paint tubes, of canvases and of tools she didn’t even the use of, her eyes shined with excitement. She felt like a child in a candy shop, going up and down the aisles, pointing out everything that would catch her eye. Nathaniel chuckled at her excitement, explaining the use of the tool she held up. For the first time ever, Chloe managed to catch a glimpse of Nathaniel’s real smile, a bright and wide grin. And every time he smiled, catching her off guard, Chloe would feel the heat in her face and in her ears.

Every once in a while, Nathaniel would sigh before giving Chloe the explanation she craved. The first time it happened, Chloe thought it was that he was getting annoyed by all her questions, but by the look in his eyes as he would hold the supplies in his hands, she was quick to understand that it was a longing sigh. He insisted that he had no use for any of them when she asked him if he would like something, insisting that they were far too expensive for what they were, but the look in his eyes, the shine they had every time he would catch a glimpse of the tools, it betrayed his words. He wanted them badly, Chloe could tell. She was the queen of “I want it” after all. But she didn’t push it any further, continuing her way around the shop.

Chloe stopped in front of one of the paintings for sale. It looked fairly simple, but Chloe knew that I had probably taken endless hours to complete. Every color blended perfectly together, depicting a beautiful sunset over a grassy hill.

“How does someone manage to make such beautiful paintings? How do they manage to turn a blank canvas into an explosion of beautiful colors?”

Nathaniel’s eyes stopped on the painting as well, taking in the beauty of the piece. “Well, it’s all about your imagination. You picture it in your head, and then you put it on the canvas for everyone to admire it. That’s the beauty of art: it’s the pictures you create in your head, so they can’t be wrong.”

“I can barely paint one of those childish color by number canvases, much less a completely blank one,” Chloe sighed, turning away from the sunset.

“Well, if you’d like, I would gladly teach you a few painting techniques, give you a few pointers, one artist to another. And don’t look so glum, Chlo. You are an artist of your own kind. Look at your makeup. It’s kind of like painting, but harder, since it’s on your face.”

Chloe held a hand to her cheek, crying to cover the blush that spread like wildfire in her face. “I suppose so. And-” she grinned, moving closer to Nathaniel- “I’ll take up your offer.”

She slipped her fingers through his as she buried her face in his chest. She managed to mumble out a thank you, to which Nathaniel answered with a hug, holding her close. It was comforting, as if she belonged in his arms. She didn’t want to move away from him, but alas, she knew they couldn’t stand around in an art shop all day, hugging like fools. Anyways, Chloe was not to be spotted looking like a fool.

“Go get me a nice canvas, of a reasonable size,” she ordered, flipping her hair as she moved away from her date. Her haughty attitude quickly faded as she noticed a shift in Nathaniel’s stance. “Could you, please? I don’t know how to pick.”

The boy smiled at her before heading to the back of the shop to pick a canvas suitable to teach Chloe a few painting techniques. The blonde took the opportunity to wander around the shop on her own, gathering a few of the tools Nathaniel had told her about.

Minutes passed and Chloe could feel her time running out, stress finally weighing down in her stomach. She couldn’t stand still, her leg bouncing as she waited in line for the cash, occasionally glancing in Nathaniel’s direction. Thankfully, he still had his back turned, debating between two canvases of similar sizes. This gave her the time to set everything down for the cashier to start scanning the items. Paintbrushes, paints and other tools that Chloe had forgotten the names of laid around the counter, each being bagged. But all the internal panic had its payoff as she took the canvas that Nathaniel had brought back to her.

“This will be the last item to add to the receipt!”

Nathaniel’s eyes widened at the sight of all the art supplies. Chloe grinned from ear to ear, proud of herself. She loved making people speechless. And no amount of protesting and questioning from Nathaniel’s behalf would make her change her mind about her purchases. She simply held a finger to his lips, shutting him up, as she paid for the supplies.

There was a pep in Chloe’s step as she walked out of the store, head high per usual. A confused Nathaniel was quick on her trail, still silent. But the confusion in his eyes only became more evident when Chloe handed him her shopping bags.

“These are for you. I could tell you wanted them when we were in the store.”

Nathaniel blinked a few times, glancing between the bags and the blonde. He was still speechless, words refusing to come out as he opened his mouth. Luckily for him, Chloe was rather pleased by his reaction, not at all offended.

“Consider it an exchange,” she continued. “I get you art supplies and you teach me how to paint.”

“’But,” Nathaniel interjected, his shock finally wearing off, “I offered to give you pointers! You didn’t have to get me anything in exchange!”

“Oh well, I already bought them, and you can’t return them. You don’t want to waste all my money, now do you, Nathaniel Kurtzberg?”

She turned to him, a smile of mischief on her lips. She could see the shift in Nathaniel’s stance, the way he gulped as she pronounced every syllable of his name. She could get used to that look on his face. It was rather cute, after all.

Silence filled the air, Nathaniel barely able to whisper out a “thank you”. Proudly, Chloe slipped her fingers into Nathaniel’s. Finally, she managed to make him happy! After years of apparently making his life a living Hell, she managed to get a smile out of the redhead.

They had initially planned on heading back to Le Grand Paris, but the purchases had not been part of the initial plans. Chloe insisted that they stop by Nathaniel’s flat to drop off the supplies first, since she knew it was on the way anyways. Thankfully, he didn’t protest. Instead, he thanked her, chuckling a bit as he mentioned that the bags were actually heavy. So there they stopped, in front of Nathaniel’s door.

Chloe was pleasantly surprised by the interior. The décor was rather simple, yet, it reflected well the aesthetic she had associated with the boy. It may have looked like a rat hole from the exterior, a place Chloe never expected herself to enter in a million years, but it was homey on the inside. Here and there hung paintings, decorating the bare walls.

“Show me how to paint like that.”

Her words seemed lost as her mind wandered. Her eyes traced every line, every stroke of paint from the painting above the couch. The first thing she had noticed on it was the signature in the left corner, Nathaniel’s name. Everything, most everything about the painting made her feel calm and envious; the blend of colors, the precision in the brush strokes, the way the image seemed so realistic, everything made Chloe wonder why she hadn’t admired his artwork earlier. And that thought was the one that formed a lump in her stomach, recalling all the mean things she had said to him when they were in Mlle Bustier’s class. But the guilt quickly faded, Nathaniel’s soft voice making her heart skip a beat.

“Well, that one took me years of practice, but I’m sure that if you put your mind to it, with a little practice, you’ll be able to make something even better looking.”

Chloe glanced over her shoulder, in the direction of the voice. She couldn’t help but smile at Nathaniel. He hadn’t bother to look at her, being so busy putting away all his new supplies. Had Chloe had a little less self-control, she would have let out a laugh; she could tell that Nathaniel was trying desperately to hide his excitement, yet he failed oh so miserably. From the corner of her eye, she could see the permanent grin on his face as he set down each item in its place.

Slowly, Chloe made her way next to him. She took the bag from his hand, deciding to help him put the stuff away. The blonde handed him one item at a time, pocketing a tube of hot pink paint in the process. She had something to do with it before applying it to a canvas. At least, before applying it to a cloth canvas.

Nathaniel finally got up, having found a spot for everything. He grinned from ear to ear, thanking Chloe one more time. But his grin was quick to fade, noticing Chloe’s pink painted fingers. Fear invaded his eyes as the girl grinned mischievously at him. He tried stepping back, but Chloe was faster, wiping her finger cross his cheek, leaving a trail of pink paint on his face. She giggled as he tried to dodge her fingers, trying desperately to avoid the pink stains. But he found himself laughing as well, lunging to grab the paint away from her.

Chloe’s giggle fit finally calmed as her finger brushed against his lower lip. Pink stained his cheeks, and it wasn’t only from the paint.

“Hey, Nathaniel?” Her voice was hushed as she moved closer to him, her eyes glancing between his lips and his eyes. “I think you’ve got something there.”

Without missing a beat, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a kiss. She could feel his stiffness, but she could also feel him loosen up, melting into the kiss. She could feel his grip tighten around her waist, pulling her closer to his chest.

The kiss had felt eternal to Chloe. Her eyes fluttered opened, meeting Nathaniel’s. His forehead rested against hers, keeping her close to his body. Chloe could feel the warmth of his breath on her lips, a feeling that only drew her closer, stealing another kiss.

It took all the strength in her body to finally pull away. She could still feel Nathaniel’s lips on hers, kissing her so softly, as she held her finger to her lips. She could feel his eyes on her, taking in the view. It was hard to resist the urge to kiss him once more, and a thousand more times. She wondered how it would feel in the future, when it won’t be their first date. Would she still want to kiss him over and over again? But she shook off the uneasy feeling, deciding that it wouldn’t do her any good to over think this right now. Instead, she gathered her belongings, announcing that it was time for her to leave.

“Thank you for today. I had a lot of fun, even if I was a little hesitant at first.”

“Give me a moment, I’ll walk you back home.”

Chloe chuckled as he vigorously wiped his face with a cloth, trying to remove all the paint she had left. Without a thought, she took the cloth from his hand and cleaned off the stains for him. “Don’t worry about it, I can go on my own. It’s just down the street, don’t worry about me. I won’t get lost.” She smiled at him as she handed him the cloth, his face finally clean. “Anyways, I think I need to clear my head a little bit.”

Nathaniel walked her to the door, neither one really wanting to leave the other’s presence just yet. Chloe couldn’t help but steal one last kiss before stepping out, ready to go home. “Thank you for today. I hope we can have this much fun on our next date.”

“I’m sure we’ll have even more fun on our next one.”

Chloe felt her heart skip a beat as he smiled at her. A lump formed in her throat as butterflies raged in her stomach. She wondered how she hadn’t noticed how insanely attractive Nathaniel was until now.

“Text me when you get home, alright?”

Chloe nodded as she stepped out of the apartment. “Even if you hadn’t wanted me to, I still would have.”

She could hear Nathaniel’s chuckle behind her, even after the door closed. Out of curiosity, she turned back, only to see the redhead fumbling with his lock and rushing to her side. She cocked an eyebrow, wondering what he was up to. He simple rubbed his neck sheepishly, a nervous laugh escaping him.

“I’m sorry, I just… I needed a few more moments with you.”

Normally, Chloe would have protested, sent him back home, but not today. She let his palm rest against hers as the pair walked towards Le Grand Paris together. She would never deny the opportunity to spend a few more moments with Nathaniel. She would never deny the opportunity to send a few more moments with the man she could picture herself falling in love with one day.

#chloe bourgeois #nathaniel kurtzberg #chlonath #chlonathweek2k19 #ml #mlb #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #day 5 #lils writes #fanfic

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pirate-queen-pasha · 5 years

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evens?

thank you so much, this literally made my day 💕🌺💕🌺💕

2. What got you into the game?

I browse redhead art on pinterest for aesthetic avis, and Portia started popping up. I started to recognize her hair among all the randoms, and then finally the title of the game showed up in a pin. I went to go check it out, and I was sold from there.

4. Who is your favorite route?

It’s a tie between Julian’s and Muriel’s right now. Julian was a ride I’ll never forget, but the writing and growth in Muriel’s route has me HOOKED.

6. Who do you play in heart hunter?

I switch between Pepi and Malak, depending on who I’m chasing!

8. Who if the not playable LIs do you wish you could romance?

NA👏HA👏RA

PIN ME TO THE WALL THANKS

SHE HAS BETTER DADDY ARMS THAN ANYONE ELSE IN THE GAME

CHOKE

10. Opinion on Julian?

This man needs a therapist. Also, I thought he was gonna be such a daddy type, but the masochism is even better. I HC him as a true switch, though. Additionally, he reminds me so much of one of my partners, it’s uncanny. From the rocky start of the story all the way to his stringbean stature, they’re practically identical. On top of all that, his was the only route in which I didn’t need a guide. I already knew how to love like this.

12. Opinion on Muriel?

Baby. Baby boy. Please pin me to the wall, but softly. I have adored Muriel’s route so far, and I’m more excited for his updates than any other route, despite stanning Portia much harder. His character growth is phenomenal and his new hairdo made me drool. And hey guess what? Muriel reminds me of another one of my partners, too. It’s less striking, but it’s there. It makes me a bit sad that Muriel and Julian don’t seem to get along easily, but then again, neither do my boys. That’s okay, though. I’ll love them both individually.

14. Opinion on Portia?

MY WIFE

Portia is my favorite character in the game, hands down. I loved her from the moment I saw her, and I aspire to be more like her. Her her playful nature and ability to lift anyone’s spirit are incredibly inspiring, and I’ve made it a point to try and pick up those qualities. (We’re also practically identical, physically, but I’ve got three inches on her.)

Her route is so nice and fluffy, but I’m still so hyped from the thrill of Muriel’s route that I find myself a bit disappointed. There’s nothing wrong with it, though, Portia IS soft. It’s fitting. It just feels like there’s not as much going on. Despite that, I’m buying every book. I love my fluffy wife.

16. What is your favorite arcana card?

I love The Star! I’ve been drawn to the card long before I learned all the meanings, and I’ve continued to love it since. I’m not particularly familiar with tarot outside of the arcana, but one of my best friends had me pull a card from her deck as an introduction, and what do you know? It’s The Star! While I’ve long forgotten the detailed description she read from her book, I remember the feeling. I nearly cried happy tears.

18. How many arcana themed blogs do you have?

Just this one! I used to post Arcana things on @gwinwinks, but I eventually split off into this blog.

20. Self insert or apprentice insert?

I’m pretty much just a self insert. Technically, I have an apprentice based on my OC, but that OC is based on me. I don’t know what’s going on with that. Her name is Gwin, she looks like a Julian-colored Portia, and she specializes in glamours and protection magic. She has no outfits, no familiar, and no art— only a couple picrews.

22. If there is one thing that could be made with the arcana theme on it, what would it be and why?

Tank tops. I love a classy tank top. They’re way better than t-shirts, for some reason, they’re just higher quality. I also don’t like the way t-shirts look on me, but give me a good tank top and I will beat ot to death.

24. What is your favorite ship?

One does not simply ask a polyshipper their favorite ship.

It’s a tie between Nadian (for the same reason as the devs: thirst) and the rarepair, Muriel x Portia. I’m soft.

I ship just about everything in this fandom, hard.

#the arcana #asks #gwinspeaks #AAAAAAAAA #THANK YOU FOR SENDING ME THIS #I NEVER GET TO ANSWER THESE THINGS #IT MADE #MY #DAY #💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

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alteredphoenix · 5 years

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One Night on the Wild Hunt (WIP)(Tales of Berseria Modern AU one-shot)(Velvet/Eleanor)

A/N: I don’t do romance often. In fact, I’m quite awkward around it, although people that know me are well aware of my stance on dabbling with it (because it’s the highest selling genre in literature, I find it much too easy where it concerns making a quick buck; I would much rather prefer a challenge).

I don’t really ship, either; I’m very particular with what I choose, and I don’t like all the dramatic naval combat that is packaged with it.

But when I find something I do ship, I latch onto it. I dabble with it. I wonder “How may I contribute to this fandom with my own special brand?”

So I surprise myself that the only actual pairing I’m into in any fandom is Velvet/Eleanor (I find it hard taking Magilou seriously, Eizen’s just there, Laphicet is still an absolute NO BUENO regardless of what the /ss/ posters on /v/ swear, and Rokurou has the personality of a cardboard box plus reminds me way too much of my father to want to ship him with anyone a.k.a. he’s loonier than me!).

There are three other one-shots that take place in this modern AU (that is inspired and based on Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas aesthetics), usually for me to mess with if I want practice treading through unfamiliar waters. While I’m inclined to make remarks about Rumiko Takahashi setting the precedent for slow-burn romances, I’m often tempted with the idea to see how long I can stretch these bad boys out before I - or someone else, or perhaps everyone - has enough and wants such consummation to be over and done with.

But I digress, even if the dog in these stories (who is indeed an Undertale OC and cameos from my Heroes of the Storm anthology, “First Impressions”, but none of that really plays into these fics) thinks otherwise.

(I’ve had this sitting in my USB since August and haven’t felt compelled to touch it again until I saw that Talonted from AO3 name-dropped me as an inspiration for their Veleanor fic “Viennese Waltz”. I don’t know if you have a Tumblr or lurk it, hon, but if you should see this, this preview’s for you, as a token of my gratitude.)

A jingle of wind chimes rings sweet in the air, clear and loud.

Doodle barks, and there’s a clatter of nails on the cement (nails that are too long, Velvet thinks, and remembers that she keeps telling herself—as well as forgetting--she’s going to trim them so he can stop sliding across the kitchen floor) as he gets up on his paws and all but pushes his nose, ever cold and ever wet, against her bare leg.

DON’T LOOK NOW, HERE COMES TROUBLE.

Velvet turns away from the motorcycle and looks.

“Woof!” says Doodle.

Velvet doesn’t see him, tongue lolling and tail wagging.

She doesn’t even hear him, nor feel the shock of him slamming his nose into her a second time.

(She will think, later on, that she will have to go see the doctor when her next paycheck comes in. Shortness of breath and heart palpitations can be a sign of something much more serious if left unchecked and untreated. Such nasty, dreadful, obnoxious things; they make it so hard to focus that everything just

falls

away.)

Whoa, Velvet thinks; and if anyone were to ask her, as she stands still and time passes all around her, what words she would like to have on her tombstone, that alone would be the one. Of course, that requires talking, and at this moment her brain had suddenly forgotten how to string more than two syllables together.

So it compels her to do the next best thing to keep her alive: breathe.

And so she does, eyes tunneling in on Eleanor as she closes and locks the door behind her. She’s dressed for work, in a pair of (FORM-FITTING, her mind reels) slacks and a white button-down blouse with the collar popped and the sleeves rolled up to just below the elbows. There’s a cute little leather purse hanging off one arm and a dark blue cardigan over the other that pulls away from the doorknob, keys in hand on a metal ring – and it’s the big kind of ring, the one prison guards like to carry and hook onto their belts that hold their handcuffs, blackjack, and gun all over the front; but the belt she wears is thin, and black, and it’s a miracle that shirt is stuffed any further south than it already is. It makes it look her chest is about to--

Velvet breathes.

She jolts, suddenly, when Doodle makes those heavy panting noises that means he’s spazzing out on all fours and bashes that hammer-head skull of his against her one more time.

That blows all the fog away, and suddenly Velvet feels small. There’s grass, and there are trees, flowers of all different colors in the bushes and in the boxes underneath the window sills. There are little white butterflies fluttering through the air, even a dragonfly. Distantly, on the other side of the block, someone’s blasting hip-hop. Somewhere, on the other side of the world, the moon sits in a dark sky crowned by stars.

Eleanor’s hair is down, tapering off just beneath her shoulder blades. Long and flowing and bright red; au naturale, not the fake shit people like to put on their scalps with chemicals that are harmful for your roots and the environment. This is something you’d see from a late-night anime with the main female character...except every one of those redheaded MCs were fake and much too extra (whatever the flying hell that meant; teenage, internet lingo evolves worse than a Pokemon), and--

And: When did she grow it out?

My goodness. It looks so soft.

“Woof!” Doodle says. Standing a few feet away from her, not quite crossing the strip of lawn that divides their little abodes but far away enough on the driveway for him to outrun her if she gives chase, he looks back at her. Smiling.

TODAY IS SUNDAY. YOU ARE OFF. SHE IS NOT.

SAY SOMETHING.

IT’S NOW OR NEVER.

(Now see, a lot of things can be interpreted from that single statement.

But there’s no time to waste on weighing moral conundrums of the sexual variety, and in spite of all the goodwill and religious upbringing she’s had in her life, Eleanor, like all normal, rationally minded humans trying to survive, loves seeing her well-earned gald go into her well-earned bank accounts.)

YOU CAN DO IT.

Velvet does. “Good morning. Little early to be painting the town red, don’t you think?”

(For one very brief, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment, out of the corner of her eye, a shadow flits over Doodle’s face. Just a bird, a voice in Velvet’s head whispers. Robins and cardinals and blue jays going around to feed their chicks and do whatever the hell they feel like.

She doesn’t recall hearing any birds chirping and tweeting and doing birdly things. At least, so far as she could tell. Strange; her memory’s usually pretty good at remembering.)

#tales of berseria #one night on the wild hunt #velvet crowe #Eleanor hume #veleanor #fanfiction #mywriting #undertale #annoying dog

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evanpeaters · 5 years

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pegleg and lobster boy → 07.19

TIME FRAME: Friday 19th, July. LOCATIONS: World on Wheels, A&E, Los Angeles. DESCRIPTION: Evan and Madelaine decide to go to a disco roller rink, fully dressed up in 80′s gear, but things don’t go to plan.

@madelame-x

Madelaine: The redhead was sad she had to miss the wedding, she really wished she could’ve made it, but she had a commitment to the show and in the end, if someone had to miss it to go to the Convention, Lili was much closer to Saoirse, she’s gladly take the bullet to have her friends go and enjoy themselves while she stuck it out through all the panels. Madelaine loved conventions, she loved getting together with fans, filming content with them and just spending some time there before she either drove back home or retreated herself to the hotel room. Tonight though, it’d be a different kind of Friday night. God even knew how, but one way or the other, she’d flirted enough to get a date with Evan Peters. She’d gone back to LA for the night, figuring she’d wake up early on Sunday and drive to San Diego, so after getting ready in her best 80’s look, she was waiting for him while she munched on some cashew nuts and watched something random on the TV

Evan: Being a free, unemployed man had it’s ups and downs. For the most part, he was incredulously bored and rewatching seasons of shows that he’d never though he’d get to revisit in his life. While on the other hand, it kept him available for when random plans like going to a roller disco with Madelaine Petsch sprung up. He had no idea where he’d plucked the idea out of, only that he knew he needed to make it interesting to warrant the two hour drive for her the next morning. They’d found the perfect one in LA where the aesthetic was heavily based on the 80’s and of course, he was going to take full advantage of that - he was missing out on the 80’s season of AHS, so he’d damn well make up for it now by wearing short-shorts, an old windbreaker jacket and sports socks pulled up. Obviously that came with getting some odd looks as he strolled through the entrance of her housing complex, but he didn’t have it in him to feel any embarrassment. Pulling out his phone, Evan dropped her a text. ‘I’m here now. You better have matched my effort with your outfit, or I’m going to be sending you right back in’.

Madelaine: With her hair all done up to make it as fluffy as possible, a short neon pink short shorts and a crop top with heart shaped sunglasses, Madelaine picked up her tiny backpack and headed downstairs. She got the weirdest looks, but as soon as she laid eyes on Evan, she was pretty sure she wasn’t gonna be the only one turning heads around “All of a sudden, I feel like I’m in a movie” Madelaine said with a laugh as she reached out to greet him with a hug. “You ready for this? I’m putting a disclaimer out there, I’m incredibly clumsy so I’m sorry if I fall on you several times”

Evan: It was easy to spot Madelaine as she emerged, standing out from the others not only due to her outfit, but the way she carried herself. Embracing her back, Evan’s eyes gave her a once over and beamed in approval. “I couldn’t have even imagined you looking any more awesome” He stated in approval, wishing he’d also gone for the headband that he had dismissed as too much. “Is that a warning or a promise? Because I reckon I’ll be just as awful. I’ve never been able to master skateboarding no matter how hard I’ve tried, so I’ll be right down on my ass with you.” Keen to get moving, the actor led the female to the parking lot and clambered into his Landrover, immediately dialing the volume down as he had been blasting some Def Leppard on his way there - a far cry from the disco music they’d soon be surrounded by. The GPS was already programmed into finding the roller rink, and soon enough they were on their way. “You wanna be DJ? Cable’s right here..”

Madelaine: High top All Stars being rocked, she’d never felt more stupid but at the same time, more confident, which really gave her a good feeling about the night. “Thanks, I tried my best with whatever vintage shops had around LA but I’m proud of my look. You don’t look too shabby yourself” She said with a big smile. Walking side by side, Madelaine turned to Evan when he spoke back, laughing a little bit “Oh, well then, let’s just extend a blanket forgiveness for whoever injures the other, sounds good?” She teased. She scaled the step into the Land Rover and sat down, buckling up. “What is that… Give me that!” She pretended to be offended when he started blasting the music. Grabbing the cable, she opened up Spotify into the “All about the 80’s” playlist, Ah-Ha’s ‘Take on Me’ coming in full blast. She started dancing on her seat and chuckling “This is more like it!”

Evan: Now they were both fully warned on how potentially bad each other were going to be at the rink, Evan felt suddenly more reassured. It would’ve been just his luck to suggest something that the other person kicked ass at, while he was left behind, wobbling around. An unapologetic smile was shot over to Madelaine as she protested to his music taste, and he would’ve inflicted more on her just for kicks if he didn’t also have a mutual appreciation for the song she had put on. Wiggling in his seat, Evan tried his best to match her enthusiasm, though driving in LA was admittedly a huge ball ache. Settling on singing along to the playlist instead, Evan only got more and more into it with each surprising new song that came on next. By the time that they were pulling up to a traffic light, 'Hungry Like The Wolf’ was on, and in the car next to them sat a very conventional looking family, the parents looking bewildered and kids bemused as Evan rolled down his window and treated them to the 80’s throwback show.

Madelaine: With her eyes deep into her phone, Madelaine tried to make up a perfect queue with all the fantastic tunes that would match up to their 80’s fantasy. Having spent much of her lifetime stuck in LA traffic, the redhead had lost that habit though ever since she started working in Vancouver for 10 months out of the year. She tried not to get impatient and roll around with the music, stealing random glances from her skating partner, his windbreaker and the genuine smile on his face as he sang along were pulling the most of her attention. Laughing when he rolled the window down, the actress leaned forward and joined the serenade to the family SUV on the other side before the light turned back to green and they had to pull away from their stopping point. The looks on the kids were slightly lost and amused, but the parents were horrified. “How scarred do you think we left those parents?” She joked at him.

Evan: An entertaining car journey partner was always appreciated, so Evan couldn’t have been more thankful for the redhead joining in on their serenade rather than simply rolling her eyes. With one eye on the traffic lights, Evan floored it as soon as they turned back to green, leaving the SUV in their perplexed wake. “I feel like we just took them on a journey back in time to a time their minds forgot because they spent half of it on an acid trip. They’ll have good sex tonight. We did them a favor”. Doing that thing again where his mind drew completely random conclusions and his mouth brought them to life, Evan saw nothing presumptuous at all with his statement, and spent the rest of the journey going back to their vehicle disco. Within another ten minutes, they were pulling into the parking lot, and the male was pleasantly surprised to find it almost full. He’d kind of assumed that roller discos were something time had forgotten, but the beauty of nostalgia and wanting to experience a time you hadn’t fully got to live in clearly kept some customers 'rolling’ in.

Madelaine: Madelaine was about to talk into the beginning of his statement, but she was surprised when he kept on going and drew a full conclusion to the end, making her chuckle and shrug her shoulders a little bit “Maybe they fell in love in an acid trip, maybe they’ll try to re-live it tonight, we may have turned their marriage back into what they felt when they got hitched… We did good, buddy” She said with a small nod and a smile, giving him a clap on the shoulder and a chuckle escaped her throat as she did. The remainder of the drive was spent humming to the music and occasionally rocking out to banging tunes, but when they made it there, Madelaine was pleasantly surprised to see that most of the people were looked out like them “Well this is a party if I’ve ever seen one… Come on, let’s go” She said with a bright smile, all but jumping out of the truck and walking inside with him. Stepping inside the place, she felt a loud booming of the music, turning to look at Evan with a bright smile.

Evan: At least he wasn’t alone in his thought process, it sounded like Madelaine got exactly where he was coming from, and Evan nodded along in agreement. The rink certainly didn’t disappoint as they stepped inside it, the vibe was infectious, and he immediately felt as if they’d made the right call. “Alriiiight.” He exclaimed, excitedly, making a beeline over to the skate rental and trading in his size 10’s. “Aren’t you glad this is the way you’ve chosen to start your weekend off?” And they hadn’t even really got started yet, but he could already tell the day was going to go smoothly.

Madelaine: She could feel her body start to swivel and her feet got a little dancey when they stepped into the place. When he beelined towards the skating place, Madelaine stepped in time behind him and looked around, captivated by the flashing lights and the amazing colors, she looked like a kid in Disney on her first time. Asking for her 6.5 skates, they got handed their pairs and went to sit down on a stool. Slipping the skates on, she couldn’t help but to let out a nervous laugh. She was gonna make such an asshole out of herself, but it was gonna be a fun night. “I absolutely am… As much as I love the con parties, this is… Certainly a better activity” She added. She could’ve gotten vlogging content for her YouTube channel, but this… This was much better.

Evan: didn’t know what it said about him that he was /this/ excited to get out onto the ‘dance floor’, both of them had smiles which threatened to make their jaw ache later, just like everybody else in the place, and the whole atmosphere was infectious. Lacing up his boots, Evan had his on quicker than Madelaine so took it upon himself to get on his knees and lace her second one up. Any time not spent seeing how disastrous they could be was time wasted. Then, he attempted to skate to the rink, the padded flooring making it more of an awkward waddle over there. “Shit, I’m not holding out a lot of hope right now if I’m this awkwardly footed on the non-slippery flooring”, he spoke over his shoulder to Madelaine, flashing her a comic expression before gliding out onto the dancefloor

Madelaine: Long nails and tight laces weren’t really two things that should happen together, nope. The moment the redhead tried to pick the laces from the skating boots to tighten them, she found herself struggling like an idiot, so when Evan knelt down to help her, she picked up her lips in a smile as a quick thank you. The faster she could get this done, the more time they’d spend roller skating… or figuring out how to stay on their feet, actually. Laughing at the way he waddled down the narrow carpet towards the rink, Madelaine tried to calm herself down. He was probably just as awkward as she was, so if anything, this would be more fun than traumatizing. “Hey, I don’t think I’m gonna be much better” She said with a laugh, mimicking his expression. The moment the wheels under her feet touched a slippery surface, she gasped and let out a quiet squeal “Oh God!” Her hands grasped at the railing. Everyone around them looked like either professionals or uncoordinated idiots like them.

Evan: Like with iceskating, it was definitely a wobbly start while you were trying to find your footing - it didn’t help that the last time he had rollerbladed had probably been +10 years ago, but he was a show off at heart, and even though he was just getting re-acquainted with the skates, the actor turned to face Madelaine, rather slowly managing to skate backwards instead. 'Born to Handjive’ from the Grease soundtrack was playing, so he worked his best 'mashed potato’ hand movements until a couple who clearly spent far too much time here sped past, twirling their way across the dancefloor, sending him into a complete wobble. “Show offs”. He mumbled, rolling his eyes over at Madelaine. “How ya doing there, red? Did you uh…is it a personal choice to be travelling at the speed of a baby sloth?”

Madelaine: She wasn’t gonna lie to herself, hell no, Madelaine was terrified. She’d been a dancer for most of her childhood years, where was all that dexterity and capability now, for fuck’s sake! The music was relaxing her, and slow but steadily, she was starting to stop moving herself by gripping the railing and pulling on it to push herself forward, and letting go of it to actually move and shuffle her legs. Laughing at Evan’s failed attempt to dance and his face contorting back to a scowl when he saw the clearly very experienced couple, she couldn’t help it but laugh “Oh my God, shut up, I hate you!” She said with a loud laugh, looking down at her feet, terrified to even move too far away from the railing “Uhm, excuse me, I don’t see you moving all that fast and far away, buddy”

Evan: Glancing around to check the coast was clear of that distracting as heck couple, Evan made his way back over to where Madelaine had managed to…pull herself? “I’m only going this slow so I can stick close to you. You know the drill, never leave a man behind”. Okay, so maybe that was a stretch from the truth. Maybe he hadn’t grown the ability to speed off and weave in and out of the others yet, but he sure as hell was picking it up with more ease than the actress. A smile that struggling not to be smug on his face, Evan held out his hand for Madelaine, hoping she would substitute the railing for his own balance. “Come on, we’re getting in the middle”.

Madelaine: This should’ve been easier, come on Madelaine, get yourself together, you’re looking like an idiot! The redhead tried to convince herself, to pull some of Cheryl’s fake confidence to herself and with a deep breath, she let go of the rails and put her hands up to her sides to balance herself “Alright, alright, I’m getting there… Leave no man behind, you’re full of crap” She said, rolling her eyes before smiling back at him. Looking at his hands, she reached out to grab them, the first impulse in her body when she could take a grip of something was to go strong for it, so she almost even leaned a little bit into her arms when she felt the support from him “To the middle? Oh God I-Oh shit” She cursed out as she started slipping around. She wasn’t falling but this certainly was faster than desirable “If you let go of my hands, I’m going to murder you”

Evan: It really was rapidly getting easier for Evan, so with every surge of newfound confidence, he wanted to push Madelaine a little further and he couldn’t help but pull her along with him the more and more he sped up. “I’m not gonna let go, I promise. Although…you might start wanting me to, soon. I mean look at this, I’m pretty much pro now” gesturing down at the very standard skating that was taking place, Evan knew full well that if anything else was required of him - if he had to turn suddenly, or even try a jump - he knew he’d go crashing down onto his ass, so this would do for now. “You’ve also progressed to fully grown sloth now, so I’m proud of you”.

Madelaine: The middle of the rink was less crowded, with all the people who wanted to go fast and move at a faster-than-glacier pace moving out to the edges, they were left almost alone in the middle of the floor and with less people around, Evan was starting to pick up a little speed and oh dear, Madelaine’s pale delicate hands were about to squeeze the life out of his broad ones. “Well then, Mr. Pro, go on and do a fun trick for everyone to baffle at your wonderful skills” She taunted him and laughed, trying to look at his feet. He was getting the hang of it, so she tried to copy him. One foot outwards, then back in, then the other one. Okay it wasn’t that hard. Rolling her eyes at the comparison, she groaned “Next time, we’re going to a ballet studio and I’m showing you how it’s done” She said with a laugh, needing to prove herself “Okay this is- I’m… This is actually- Okay” She spoke to herself as she started gaining more and more confidence, the grip on the blonde’s hands starting to loosen but definitely still there, mostly for moral support.

Evan: With less people around to crash into, Evan did feel like getting a little more experimental, though he was sure he’d come to regret it if he crashed and burned, not only infront of Madelaine, but everyone else in the rink. Plus, his white short-shorts threatened to rip if he tried anything too vigorous. “You told me not to let go of your hand yet, remember? So are you going to be doing this with me, or what?”. On his own, he probably would’ve just thrown his body down onto the floor, completed the worm and called it a day, but how hard could partner tricks be, really? “So bring some of that ballet grace here. Teach me how to pirouette, if you can. Which I reckon you can. You’re just in your own head right now because you’re worried about falling over and hurting yourself - but weren’t you like that on the first day of your ballet classes, too?”

Madelaine: When Evan proposed she’d do a trick with her, Madelaine’s big brown eyes widened and she shook her head “Oh no.. No no… No no no, don’t worry about me” She said with a laugh, licking her lips “I don’t think I could do any of that and ballet… In ballet you’re standing on your own feet, not on wheels! It’s like- For a pirouette, you just grab momentum and you have to go on pointe, lift your leg- And that’s just not gonna happen here” She said with a chuckle. “But here- lets see I… Mhm” She hesitated for a second before she pulled her hands back. Not too far, since she wanted to be right there if she needed to grab them again, but she straightened up her spine and looked up at him with a big smile, like a child coming back from school with a good grade “Look! Look I’m doing this” She almost yelled with pride, which turned a lot of heads who gave her some very weird looks, but she couldn’t care less.

Evan: In hindsight, maybe it was a good idea Evan couldn’t talk her into trying any tricks. He was just tapping into his inner motivational speaker when he didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about - pirouettes were hard enough to master on your own toes, never mind on wheels. Still, it seemed to have instilled some confidence in her as she let go of his hand and took a better stance. The looks she was getting for her outburst only made Evan want to her obnoxiously loud with her, which he did, whooping and clapping as the girl managed to skate alongside him unaided. “You’re a graceful motherfucking Dove right now. Dove Cameron, who? Here’s Dove Petsch, coming through!”

Madelaine: Back upright, strength in her core, her legs were strong but her knees were bent as she used them to push downwards and out, once each time, this was easy, no wonder Evan had picked it up so quickly. Laughing when he started cheering her on, the redhead rolled her eyes and scoffed “Oh my God, you’re such an ass” She said with a laugh, letting herself relax a little now that she’d gotten into the rhythm of things. “With normal skates, this would’ve been a lot easier, it’s this freaking shoe thing with the four wheels, it’s like stepping on a toy car and- Oh shit”. Madelaine squealed before launching herself forward after putting too much weight on one of the outside wheels and it gave out under her weight, twisting her ankle under her body and making her fall to the ground arms first. “Fuck- that hurt a lot” She said between laughs, turning herself around and laying on her back with her sore leg laying down “I told you this would happen” She couldn’t stop laughing, a hand coming over her eyes.

Evan: Evan felt like a proud father as he watched Madelaine fly the nest, her speed picking up as she put some distance between them…and then, she was crashing to the ground. “Oh…fuck” Evan let out, immediately skating to her side, a concerned look on his face as he practically skidded to his knees. Please don’t cry, please don’t cry, he inwardly begged, hoping she hadn’t hurt herself too much and would consequently hate him for bringing her there. Then, her body started rocking and Evan reached out to…cradle her? He guessed, he didn’t know, he was awful at this sort of stuff. Laughter replaced any tears, and without knowing what was going on, the actor let out a couple of nervous laughs himself. “Why are you laughing?! Oh god, is this a 'laugh so you don’t cry sorta situation right now? Are you actually hurt? Where does it hurt?”

Madelaine: She’d always been the kind of person who’d rather laugh at her own foolishness before everyone started laughing at her, and this was no different than any other case. Before Evan started laughing at her, at least he’d be laughing with her. Plus, the situation was incredibly comical, if nothing else. Watching him come towards her and cradle her, concern in his eyes as he tried to figure out why the hell was she laughing instead of bitching and moaning, Madelaine shook her head and smiled at him “I’m laughing because I just ate shit in tiny short shorts in front of everyone here, how could I not laugh” She said between laughs “I’m fine, I think I’m fine” She said, happily leaning on him for support and sitting upright “I’m okay, I’m- Oh, my ankle” She said as she pulled her leg back and her ankle twinged

Evan: Now that Madelaine was putting it into words, Evan could appreciate how ridiculous the whole scenario was, and actually let himself laugh along to it with her. Other people were skating past glancing their way, but the fact they were both laughing probably dismissed the idea of her needing help. Moving to get back to his feet, Evan stopped mid-action as the redhead winced in pain while attempting to move. “Shit.” he let out, his mind instantly jumping to conclusions that she’d broken it. “Can you stand on it at all? Here -” holding out a hand and supporting her under the elbow, Evan attempted to pull her up - a feat made a lot more difficult thanks to the rollerskates. In hindsight, maybe he should’ve taken them off first.

Madelaine: Keeping her foot off the ground, which was heavier even with the skate, the redhead tried not to wince too hard when she stood up and allowed her weight to rest on Evan “I.. Shit- I don’t think I can” She said with a small chuckle. Looking down at their feet, Madelaine looked up at him and narrowed her eyes a little bit “Two people and three legs on skates… Why do I have a feeling this is not gonna be a good idea”

Evan: Full time carer mode activated when Madelaine admitted she couldn’t put any pressure on her ankle, and he was definitely in agreement to it not being a good idea for him to attempt to skate along, dragging a one-legged female in his wake. “Yeah, you’re right, one second”. With one arm still around Madelaine, Evan fumbled with his laces until they were loose enough for him to pull his skates off, one by one, wobbling haphazardly the entire time. Once they were off, he ditched them in the middle of the rink and padded back to the entrance in his socks, rolling Madelaine along with him. In a way, their predicament had now come in handy so she wouldn’t have to hop along or get him to carry her - which wouldn’t be the case once they’d left the establishment, but the thought of giving her a piggy back around didn’t bother him in the slightest. Once they had left the dancefloor, Evan sat Madelaine down onto the nearest bench and got back to his knees, his eyes holding her own gaze as he spoke. “Alright so, I’m not gonna lie, this is probably gonna hurt…” trailing off, the actor attempted to get her skate off as gently as possible, which would’ve been a lot easier if they weren’t high-tops.

Madelaine: With one arm wrapped around Evan’s shoulders and the other one holding onto his bicep, Madelaine tried her best to keep her balance and roll her way from the middle of the rink to the small exit door, following him and trying her best to hop and scoot herself onto where they once sat to put these death traps on. “Yeah I- Oh ouch ouch ow ow ow!” She whimpered as Evan started to unlace the shoes and pull them off. She hated being the whiny girl, she was always so strong and fended for herself, so this was less than desirable. As he was managed to slip the injured feet’s skate off, the redhead bent down to try and take the other one off “I told you this was gonna end badly, I’m so sorry” She said, biting her lip and shaking her head as she kicked the other one off and sighed.

Evan: hated hearing Madelaine in pain, especially knowing he was the one that was sort of inflicting it on her by trying to get the boot off, but he couldn’t give up half way, and with the last little wiggle, he’d managed to free her foot. The sounds she was making definitely wasn’t promising, and normally he wouldn’t resort straight to this, but he knew she was a busy girl who couldn’t just let wait to let recovery happen without actually knowing what they were dealing with. “Don’t be sorry at all, if anyone should be sorry, it should be me. This was my idea, and you’re probably gonna hate me even more for suggesting this, but…I think we need to get you to the hospital. I can carry you out to my car? I know this isn’t exactly how you planned to spend your con weekend, and I feel so fucking bad”.

Madelaine: “Hey, no, don’t say that!” Madelaine said with a smile, shaking her head a little bit “I wanted to come here, and let’s face it, in the twenty minutes we spent in there I had the time of my life… Before my clumsy self kicked in” The redhead said, a shrug picking up her shoulders with a small smile to make him feel better. The rink people brought them their shoes over, seeing that Madelaine was struggling a little bit and Evan was helping, and she thanked them with a kind smile. “Really?” The girl asked her companion “Do you think it’s like… Hospital bad?” She asked, looking down at her feet. It was certainly swollen, but at least it wasn’t broken or anything, right? Hearing him offer to carry her to his car, Mads furrowed her brow “I haven’t had a good piggy back in ages… Turn around” She said, picking her Converse up by the high top and waiting until he turned around and lowered himself enough for her to jump on his back.

Evan: Evan’s concerned expression melted into a smile as Madelaine reassured him. He too had been enjoying himself thoroughly until the inevitable happened and one of them bit the dust. “Hey, if it wasn’t going to be you, it would’ve been me, so either way one of us was going to end up carried out of here, and I think you would’ve struggled a little more carrying my ass out. Also, it’s better to be safe than sorry, right? I’d rather them do x-rays on it now than to find out your ballet days are behind you in a few months when the bone fuses back together in some gnarly, unaligned way”. Scooping up his own shoes, Evan got into position for her to be able to hop on with ease, and made his way out of the building. “See ya later, 80th century. It’s been emotional”. He declared as they re-entered the parking lot, spinning back around so he could place her onto the passenger seat. “Alright, I know a hospital pretty close to here, and I’ll drive you to San Diego in the morning so don’t even…worry about that”.

Madelaine: He always had to make it odd, first with the couple who got married on an acid trip, now with her bones fusing into an anthropomorphic mess of a leg, and Madelaine couldn’t help it but laugh. Even if she was in slight pain and was getting carried out of a skating rink on the back of someone she’d only met today, she was smiling, and that meant a lot to her. “Well, I can’t have that! How’s the show gonna explain that? Oh, Cheryl got into a bad cheerleading accident and had to have her ankle and foot replaced by a stump, we’ve swapped her storyline, now she’s half pirate” She said with an eloquent voice, as if she were pitching the idea to show runners. Sliding herself onto the seat and buckling up, the concern in Evan’s voice made her heart melt “Hey, don’t worry about that… You’re doing more than enough now. I mean, sitting in a waiting room in those short shorts? They’re gonna wanna take -you- in for tests”

Evan: “I mean…a storyline like that would /definitely/ make me want to watch the show. You said she was a closeted bitch at first, so she’s changed slightly already, why not go the full stretch and have her be a pirate in the next season?” Sliding back into the seat that he was unaware he’d be sitting back in so soon, Evan buckled himself in and began the drive to the nearest hospital, chuckling softly at the thought of them sat side by side in the accident and emergency department dressed how they were. If anything, hopefully it would give the staff on shift a smile. “So what’s the story we’re going with? Are we gonna pretend you hurt it doing something a lot more badass than struggling to roller skate, or are we just going to hope and pray that they’ve had this kind of scenario before?”

Madelaine: “Of course the peg leg girl would attract the lobster claw boy” Madelaine said with an eyeroll and a laugh, her whole body semi-turned to face him as he drove her. He really didn’t have to, so she appreciated that he was taking the time to do this for her. Making sure she had everything she needed in her backpack, the redhead allowed herself to flump back down on the seat “I mean, with Riverdale you never know, maybe the next villain will be a crazy pirate and Cheryl will be his side kick” She joked. “Mhm…” His question took her a little off guard “I think they must’ve seen this before. Maybe not the disco rink, but the outfits? Definitely. Remember all the acid marriages, they need to re-live their golden years, and I’m sure there’s gotta be more than one fella who goes wild for these short shorts” She said, shimmying her butt on the seat for a second before groaning, she’d moved her ankle a bit and it stung again.

Evan: “Peg leg girl and lobster claw boy, now that sounds like a duo that I could…ship?” He stated, attempting to use the terminology that he’d seen fans use so many times. From the sounds of it, with their wacky plotlines, maybe Riverdale wasn’t so different from AHS afterall, only a lot less serious and a lot more camp. “I honestly think you should suggest that - a crazy pirate sounds like the perfect addition to your show.” Attempting to keep the conversation flowing to take Madelaine’s mind off the pain, Evan cast a glance over at the female as she shimmied and instantly regretted it. “Alright, you…stop being all bubbly until further notice, if you can. That’s doctors orders” He demanded, resuming more small talk until they’d reached the hospital, where he parked the car and got back into position for her to climb on his back again. Maybe it was a little extra, but it was a hell of a lot faster just to carry her than to make her hop alongside him, with a lot less movement on her part as well. Reaching the front desk of the accident department, the clerk saw to them pretty sharpishly once she realised Madelaine was on his back. “So uh, we have a case of terrible roller-skater here with possibly sprained or broken ankle…”

Madelaine: With a made up frown on her face, Madelaine tried to stay put on her ass while Evan drove them to the emergency room. Looking down at her feet, she couldn’t help it but laugh a little bit, throwing her head back to the head rest and closing her eyes for a split second, taking in a deep breath and letting it out with a grumpy sigh “I have to wear heels tomorrow for interviews!” She whined into the air before chuckling quietly. It could’ve been a lot worse. The pain, as annoying as it was, was completely bearable and she could put up with it until the end of the weekend. Watching him pull into the parking spaces, the redhead re-assumed her shimmying technique until the end of the seat and went up on her companion’s back, resting her head on his shoulders. The emergency area wasn’t too crowded, mostly people who were clearly not feeling well, but no actual emergencies they could be stopping. “Oh hi” She said with a bright smile, waving her hand to the nurse on the other side of the counter. “Oh, put her down on that chair, we’ll take care of it” The nurse said, pointing at a wheelchair with a male nurse holding it. Dismounting Evan’s back, Madelaine hopped onto the chair, handing her backpack and shoes over to the blonde boy “I’m sure I won’t be long. Just some X-Rays before I see the doctor, right?” She asked, looking back at the nurse. “Yeah, you can wait here, your girlfriend will be right back” He said as he started wheeling her away.

Evan: It was just Evan’s luck that he’d managed to hang out with some female company, and once again, they were whisked away by some hunky dude. Only this time, they weren’t dating, and afore mentioned hunky dude was simply her nurse. That was better than what he was used to. As they rolled away, Evan only just registered what the staff member had said, so had to raise his voice a little for his response to be heard. “Bold of you to assume I could land someone that hot!” he called out jokingly, sticking his hand into the bowl of candy that sat upon the desk, noticing the clerk giving him a judgemental look as he unwrapped the sweet and popped it into his mouth. “What’s up?” He spoke with no response. “...You come here often?”

Madelaine: It must’ve taken around half an hour to fourty five minutes before all the X-Rays were taken, but Madelaine really wasn’t rushed at all. Many nurses came over to ask her about the show, and she was happy to see the fans ranged from all ages and professions. If someone as serious as a doctor could watch something as camp-y as Riverdale, they were doing a good job. By the end of it, she was getting rolled back to Evan in the waiting room with a smile on her face and a bandage on her leg. “Hey, you” She said with a big smile “So, no big heels while standing up, you can wear them for interviews and photo ops, but try and get down to flats as soon as possible, and ice whenever you can, alright? The pain should be gone in 3 to 5 days, it’s just a hard twist, not even a sprain. You’ve got a very good friend here who made sure you didn’t step on it” The Doctor said while looking at Evan and then the girl “Thank you so much, Doctor- Oh wait, can I have your pen?” She said, looking down and then at Evan “Pass me my backpack?” She asked, quickly pulling out her wallet. Taking out one business card, she scribbled her signature and the names of the two daughters he’d mentioned were big fans of the show before handing it and the pen back “Make sure to have them come over to San Diego any time of the weekend if they want, I’ll walk outside to give them a hug… Or maybe this guy can give me a piggyback ride” She teased, looking at Evan and giving him a wink.

Evan: Drumming his fingers absentmindedly against the arms of the chair he was sat on, Evan didn’t even notice the looks the clerk kept giving him, his presence clearly irritating her. He was used to that. Blame it on his ADD, he barely even noticed anymore when he was being a little shit. Finally, there was movement out of the corner of his eye, and his 80’s clad friend was being wheeled back towards him. Getting up with a grin, Evan flashed her a thumbs up at the bandage. “Nice. I’m liking the SDCC accessory of choice”, he teased, knowing full well that a girl as fashion forward as Madelaine wouldn’t wear it and do her best to pretend nothing was wrong with her ankle tomorrow. He watched on as she refused to let herself leave without giving a little something back to the doctor who had taken care of her, and he had to smile, most people would’ve been in too much of a hurry to cater to their own needs to think about others. “Well, I don’t know about /that/, I’ve gotta be in Italy tomorrow…but tell you what, you need to rest, I figure we can’t do anything that requires you standing up anymore, so I’ll drive you to San Diego. Today, in your car. That way I don’t have to leave you straight away, and we can talk a little more? Or…carry on serenading random car loads of people?”

Madelaine: Rolling her eyes at Evan’s comment, Madelaine couldn’t help it but smile. He knew full and well that she wouldn’t wear the bandage, but she’d try to do the best with her ice packs and resting the leg, but Cheryl wasn’t gonna go down to her flats, and neither was she, so it’d just have to fix itself with time. Watching the whole medical staff wave goodbye and leave them, Madelaine reached up with her hands as if to ask Evan for a hand to hold and get up. She could hop towards the car, he’d carried her enough and as much as she joked about, he’d done more than she’d expected. “Yeah, I think I’m out of commission… I’m sorry I had to cut our night at the rink short, you looked like a natural” She said with a small smile “You wanna drive two hours to San Diego?” She asked, eyebrow cocked up. “I mean, yeah of course, I don’t have much to do tonight, but do you really wanna do that?” She wanted to invite him over to her house and they could talk there, he didn’t have to do all that for her.

Evan: Taking Madelaine’s hand, Evan helped her to her feet and propped an arm over his shoulder, both of them a little more lenient with how much movement she made now they knew it wasn’t broken. That had to be relieving for her, she had a heck of a lot to do that weekend and he would’ve felt endlessly guilty if she couldn’t dive into it as much as she wanted. Although, if he were honest with himself, he’d get a little kick out of seeing all of the professional shots of the Riverdale crew looking glamorous, with a wink to their few hours spent in LA together in the form of a bandage on her ankle. “It’s totally cool, if we had stayed any longer I probably would’ve grown /too/ good at it, and people would’ve been marvelling, it would’ve been embarrassing, you know?” Hopping back into his own car, Evan waited for them to settle on a destination before he bothered putting the key in the ignition. “I mean, it makes sense, you can’t really drive with a jacked up ankle, I don’t know how else your car would get to San Diego, and I can easily get a train or bus back, it’s chill. I’m making the decision for you”.

Madelaine: Hopping back towards the car, Madelaine gripped onto Evan’s waist tightly as she tried to steady herself and balance everything she had going on while they made it back. Getting on the truck was hard now that she wasn’t getting positioned from his back, but once she managed to get in there, she happily buckled in and let her foot rest on her healthy leg “You probably would’ve ended up getting like, scouted for a national 80’s roller derby team, and what would’ve been of your acting career? Someone with that much rollering skills can’t drop out of such a thing, you had to represent your country! Really, it’s for the best, I did you a favor in the end” She added with a small shrug, trying to keep a straight face for as long as she could before she cracked. Hearing him say that he’d happily drive her and taken a bus back to LA had the redhead shaking her head “What? No way, no, I refuse. We can go home, and open a bottle of wine and talk until the sun comes out if you want, but I’m not gonna let you do that. I’m… Very thankful, but I’ve got castmates who are driving from here, my stylist and make up team, an Uber, there’s plenty of ways I can get there. And you’ve got a flight to catch in the morning.”

Evan: Evan wasn’t sure what he expected Madelaine to be like, but honestly…this wasn’t it. He’d probably thought she’d take herself more seriously, so was pleasantly surprised to find out she can be just as goofy as himself - her next joke proved it. Shaking off the laugh that consumed them both for a moment, the male got the car started and buckled himself in. “Alright, if you’re sure. The option’s always there. But I like the sound of your idea, too....Your place or mine?”

#( 010 )

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