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capsteddybear · 3 years

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Our Playlist: Candy - Cameo

Song lyric: **" You're like a brand new feeling, in a special way, A surprise package, On a bright clear sunny day."

You and Chris are unpacking all of the food and drinks you just bought from the store for your game night. Tonight you would be meeting some of Chris' friends. Okay not just friends, but his fellow co stars from the Avengers.

You let out a deep breathe, "Not gonna lie I'm kinda nervous about meeting everyone."

Chris stops unpacking and touches your hand, "there's no reason to be. I love you and they will too." He kisses your cheek and continues unpacking the food. You put all of the drinks and beer in the fridge while Chris sets up the snacks on the coffee table. You guys then get games from the hallway closet and place them on the coffee table. You also bring out one of your portal white boards to keep score and to maybe play pictionary.

The doorbell rings and Chris takes your hand, "they're here." You take a deep breath as you're walking to the door and Chris squeezes your hand, "hey, it's gonna be fine" and kisses you on the cheek. You smile and Chris opens the front door. The first person you see is Anthony Mackie.

"Heeeey!" Chris and Anthony exchange hugs and Chris introduces you. "Anthony, this is (y/n). (Y/n) this is Anthony."

You shake his hand, "nice to meet you."

"Pleasure is all mine. You're more beautiful than Chris described."

You blush at his comment, "thank you."

"Hey stop flirting with the poor girl, she's already taken." You turn around and see Scarlett.

You laugh, "Hi Scarlett."

"Hi, it's (y/n), right?" You shake hands.

"Yeah."

"Nice to meet you. And ignore Anthony's flirty comments." She gives him a playfully punch on the shoulder. She greets Chris with a hug, "hi Chris."

"Hi Scarlett."

Next to walk in is Sebastian Stan and Chris Hemsworth.

"This is Sebastian and this is the other Chris. Guys, this is (y/n)."

"Hi (y/n), nice to meet you" Sebastian shakes your hand.

"Nice to meet you."

"Hi, other Chris" you laugh as you shake his hand.

"Please, feel free to call me Hemmy. There'll be less confusion."

You smile, "Alright, Hemmy it is."

Chris closes the front door as everyone takes a seat in the living room, "you guys want a beer or something to drink?"

Everyone including you answers yes in unison. Chris laughs and heads to the kitchen to grab some beers for everyone.

Anthony scoots to the edge of the couch and clips his hands together, "Alright, so what's the first game we're gonna play? I came here to win!"

Scarlett points to the white board, "let's start off easy, how about some pictionary?"

Sebastian answers, "sounds good. Who's on what team?"

"Well I would say boys versus girls, but we're outnumbered" Scarlett replies.

"I'll be the better man and join you ladies," Hemmy raises his hand.

Chris walks back into the living room with everyone's drinks, "so did we decide what we're starting with?"

You answer, "yeah, pictionary. And you're on the loser team with Sebastian and Anthony" you give Chris a smirk and everyone laughs.

"Oh, starting the trash talking early aren't we?" Anthony asks.

"Of course." You smile at Anthony.

"Alright let's start. Our team goes first." Anthony grabs a marker from the table and a card with the subject on it.

You grab the sand timer from the table, "Okay you got 30 seconds to draw. Ready? Go!" You flip it over and the sand starts to flow. Everyone's attention is on Anthony as he starts to draw. He starts with a stick figure standing on some sort of board.

Chris and Sebastian start yelling out their guesses.

"Surfer!"

"Surfing!"

Anthony shakes his head. He adds dots around the stick figure.

"What the fuck is that???" Chris shouts.

Everyone starts laughing. Anthony then draws pine trees.

"Snowboarding?"

"Snowboarder?"

Anthony then draws an arrow to the board.

"Snowboard!" Sebastian stands up and yells.

"Oh my God finally" Anthony says.

"Wait, hang on, what are the dots?" Chris points to the picture, "are those supposed to snowflakes? That's not how you draw snowflakes, man."

"whatever, we got the point."

Anthony takes a seat back on the couch and Scarlett is the first to go from your team. Sebastian flips the timer and Scarlett begins to the draw. She first draws a big mouth with teeth showing. You and Hemmy begin guessing.

"Smile!"

"Teeth."

She then draws a toothbrush.

"Toothbrush!"

She adds bubbles around the toothbrush.

You point to the board and shout, "toothpaste!"

"Yes!" Scarlett runs up to you and gives you a high five.

Sebastian is up next. You flip the timer and he begins drawing. First he draws a t-shirt and pants.

"Clothes!"

"Outfit!"

Sebastian then adds a bed.

"Pajamas!?" Chris yells.

Sebastian nods his head, "Yeeeeeah." He gives Chris and Anthony fist bumps before taking a seat. It's now Hemmy's turn to draw. Chris flips the time and he starts. He draws a circle with a little leaf on the top.

"An apple!"

"A tomato.

He then draws a bottle.

"Apple juice?"

"Apple cider!"

Hemmy shakes his head and quickly draws a hotdog and a squiggly line on it and points to it.

You stand up and shout, "ketchup!"

Hemmy points to you and everyone busts out laughing. Hemmy gives you a high five and passes the marker to Chris. He grabs a card and he waits for you to flip the timer to begin drawing.

Chris starts with a big square.

"Picture frame."

"TV."

Chris laughs and draws a couple of fish.

"A fish tank!"

"Finding Nemo?"

Chris shakes his head and continues drawing. He draws stick figures.

"Scuba diving!"

"Deep sea divers!"

Chris shakes his head again and adds a whale, but the timer runs out.

"Time!!!" Scarlett shouts.

Chris groans, "damn it."

"Was it an aquarium?" Sebastian asks.

"Yeah." Chris answers. He puts his head down and walks over to you and hands you the marker. You give him a pouty face and pat him on the shoulder as you walk by. Sebastian flips the timer and you start drawing.

"Balloon!"

"Hot air balloon"

You then add a stick figure to the bottom of the balloon.

"Skydiving"

"Sky diver."

You draw an arrow to the balloon part of your drawing.

"A parachute!" Hemmy yells.

"Yes!" You run up to your teammates and give a high five.

You guys play a couple more rounds. Your team has been in the lead by just 1 point. It's the last round and Chris' team needs to get this last drawing in order to win the game.

"Alright so who's gonna go for your team?"

"Uh we vote Sebastian to go."

Sebastian stands up and heads to the white board.

"Come on man you got this." Anthony roots.

You flip the timer and he starts drawing. Within a couple of seconds the game is over.

"Cat"

"Kitten!"

Sebastian quickly turns around bows.

"What the fuck? That was too easy." You yell.

Everyone cracks up.

Anthony leans over, "what did you say about the losing team earlier?"

You roll your eyes and stick out your tongue, "oh shush."

"What should we play next?" Scarlett asks.

Anthony quickly replies, "doesn't matter because I'm gonna win."

Sebastian grabs the deck of cards on the table, "Uno?"

You raise an eyebrow, "How about drunk uno? If you forget to shout out Uno when you're down to one card you gotta take a shot in addition to picking up cards."

Everyone nods, "sounds good."

You run to the kitchen to grab shot glasses and liquor from the cabinet while the rest of them clear off the coffee table and grab extra chairs from the dining room and sit around the table. Chris shuffles the cards and passes them out.

While you guys are playing they ask how you and Chris met. Chris explains how you met at the welcome home party. You smile and start to reminisce and forget to yell uno when you put your card down.

Sebastian quickly points to you and shouts, "uno! Take a shot."

"Ah shit, I got distracted."

Chris quickly turns to you and kisses your cheek, "sorry" he whispers.

You laugh and pour yourself a shot.

The game continues. During the game Hemmy and Anthony end up taking shots for forgetting to shout uno. Scarlett ends up winning the first game. Chris wins the second game even though he had to take 2 shots for not yelling uno the first two times. You were starting to think that the alcohol was helping him focus because he also won the next game. You guys play a few more rounds of uno before just lounging around the coffee table talking and drinking.

Chris and Anthony get up from their seats to go to the kitchen for more snacks.

You go to the bathroom while the others pick what game they wanna play next. When you come back from the bathroom the group has decided to play cards against humanity and are setting up the game. You head to the kitchen to tell Chris and Anthony to hurry up when you sneak up on them talking about you. You hide behind one of the pillars and listen in on their conversation.

"You seem really happy", Anthony says leaning against the kitchen counter.

Chris looks down and smiles, "I am, man. I really am", he takes a drink of his beer.

"She's perfect for you, man. She has the same humor as you."

He laughs, "Thanks. I love her so much."

Your eyes tear up a bit and you smile. You take a deep breath and come out from behind the pillar. "Hey guys, we're ready for the next game. Let's go." You walk up to Chris and wrap your arms around him. He notices your eyes are watery.

"You okay?"

"Uh yeah", you put your hand on his chest.

Chris smiles and kisses your forehead.

"Alright you love birds, let's go" Anthony buds in.

You guys head back to the living room and rejoin the rest of the group. During the rounds of Cards Against Humanity the group gets a real feel for the sense of humor you have. A dirty sense of humor to be exact because you win the first two games.

You guys play for a bit longer before calling it quits since its 3 o'clock in the morning. Once everyone has left, you and Chris attempt to clean up, but are distracted by each other. Every time you pass him he grabs you and kisses you.

You moan against his lips, "come on Chris, we gotta clean up. I don't wanna do it tomorrow morning."

He groans and kisses your forehead, "Okay fine, but as soon as we're done you're mine."

You guys continue cleaning up, but when you see Chris in the kitchen putting stuff away in the cupboard you sneak up behind him and wrap your arms around him. He jumps at your touch, "hey, what did you say earlier? Hands off til we're done."

"Yeah, I'm done" You kiss him on the cheek.

He points to the counter, "Okay but I'm not. I still need to put this stuff away."

You tickle his sides, "hurry up."

"Hey!" Chris quickly turns around and tries to tickle you, but you slip out of his reach and take off running down the hallway to your bedroom. "You're not getting away that easy."

Chris grabs you and you both fall onto the bed out of breath and laughing. He rolls you over so he's laying on top of you both of his arms on either side of you so he doesn't squish you. You run your hands up and down his forearms as he looks into your eyes. You both calm down from laughing. "Told you I'll catch you."

You bite your lip, "Now that you have me, what's next?"

"This." Chris leans down and starts kissing you. You moan against his lips. You wrap your arms around him to pull him closer. He kisses your neck, "I love you, (y/n)."

"I love you too."

You guys keep kissing each other before you push on Chris' chest.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm hot."

Chris laughs, "why yes you are."

You smile, "No, well thanks, but I meant you're making me hot."

Chris raises an eyebrow, "you're welcome."

You laugh, "goddamn it, that's not what I meant, Chris. Well in that category you are too, but I mean temperature hot." You tug at his jacket.

He looks down and laughs, "Oh." He sits on the edge of the bed and kicks off his shoes and starts taking off his jacket and shirt. When he turns back he sees you have taken off your shirt as well. He lays back on top of you. "Better?"

"Much better?" You wrap your arms around his back and kiss him. Chris' hands start to wander down your sides, but he feels you tense up and stops.

"Hey what's wrong?" He cups your face with his hand. You keep your eyes close and stay silent. Chris kisses you on the cheek. "(Y/n), what's wrong? Talk to me."

You open your eyes and let out a deep breath, "As much as I would love to have sex with you right now, I'm not ready yet... Sorry." Your eyes are watery so you look away.

Chris cups your face so you would look at him, "Hey, Don't be sorry. I'm more than okay with waiting." He kisses your cheek as a single tear rolls down. "I love you." He hugs you before rolling over and pulling you close to his chest.

"I love you too."

#chris evans #chrisevans #chris evans fanfiction #chrisevansfanfic #chris evans and reader #chris evans smut

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piracytheorist · 3 years

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A Kiss for Good Luck (8/15)

Summary: So this is the story of one born lucky, and one born unlucky. Fate will keep making them cross paths, but is it to bring them together, or to test them? Captain Swan AU.

A/N: This will hurt. I am sorry.

Rating: T (make sure you’re okay with the warnings on AO3) Warnings: This chapter contains character death, some depictions of violence, depictions of poor and unhealthy coping mechanisms, as well as a toxic relationship. Any intercourse and physical touch in general is fully consensual, but emotionally the relationship may appear upsetting to some. Also there are some elements that may resemble emotional self-harm.

Word count for this chapter: 4k (48k in total) AO3

Read from the beginning: Tumblr | AO3

Chapter 8: Killian Jones, October 19th 2011 – October 24th 2015

The kiss is deeper than he expected. Killian pushes the woman back, but gently. He was the one who gave her permission to kiss him, after all.

"I thought it would be a quick kiss. I have a girlfriend."

Her brows are going wild. "Shit. Sorry."

He's so stupid. What would Milah think? "'Salright. Go pee."

"Yes. That,” she slurs. “Thank you again."

Just as the woman closes the bathroom door behind her, Milah appears above him.

“You okay?” she says.

He looks at her confused, before he realizes it's not that normal to sit on the floor while at a club. “Yeah,” he says. “Just very, very drunk.”

She gives him her hand, he takes it, then she starts pulling at him. “Let's go outside for some air. There's too much smoke in here.”

“I wanna pee!”

She drags him up. “You can pee outside! Let's go!”

It feels better outside. The cool, clean air wakes him up a bit.

Milah throws her arms around Killian's neck and pulls him to lean his forehead on hers. He smells the martini in her breath, landing hot against his lips.

He closes his eyes. He could stay like this forever, and how he wishes this moment lasted that long...

“How sweet,” a sharp voice says from the side.

They turn together to see Gold staring at them, his hands crossed on the handle of his cane. There's two big guys flanking him, and Killian pulls Milah aside, stepping in front of her.

“What do you want?” Killian says.

“I did wait,” Gold says. “I held back, let you take my wife away from me.”

“Shut up,” Milah says, moving to Killian's side. ��Our marriage was over long before I met Killian.”

Gold looks at her, hand grabbing the cane hard.

“You... you followed us here?” Milah says, suddenly realizing. “What the hell? Where's Jack?”

“You have no right to ask about him,” Gold says and takes a brisk step forward. “You went against my conditions for meeting him. You brought that bastard with you!”

Milah flinches, and Killian's left hand grabs onto hers.

“And you?” Gold looks at him. “Going behind my back to take my son on your side? Trying to buy his love?” His face seems to barely contain his rage as he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a handgun.

Killian's hand squeezes Milah's as his other one raises up in defense. “Whoa, Gold, wait-”

Gold shoots.

Though Killian’s ears are ringing from the exploding sound, he hears Milah's trembling sigh. It feels like it's hours later that he turns to look at her, eyes going straight for the growing red spot on her chest.

And then she's falling.

“No,” he whispers and holds her, gently breaking her fall.

Her eyes are moving wildly, then she coughs and a thin trail of blood runs from the corner of her lips.

“No, no. Milah...”

She focuses on him. “I love you,” she whispers. She gasps one last time, then she's limp in his arms.

It's like even more hours pass. He feels her hot blood staining his hands.

Her eyes are closed. She's not breathing. Only her blood moves, dripping out of her body even though her heart has stopped beating.

“No,” he says.

He hears the tapping sound of a cane, and he looks up to see Gold standing above him, gun aimed at him. His henchmen also aim their handguns at him.

“What are you waiting for?” Killian says. “Finish it.”

What else can he say? It's not as if he'd leave him to tell the tale.

“Oh, no. You won't be so lucky,” Gold says, but he doesn't move.

Killian manages to hold himself back only long enough to set Milah down gently, then he lunges at Gold, grabbing the gun.

It all happens in half a second.

Gold shoots, Killian's ears are ringing again, and he sees two fingers fly off in a sudden fountain of blood.

He drops down to his knees. His left hand hangs limp in a way no hand should. The thumb and index finger are missing, and there's a gaping crescent hole, starting under his middle finger and reaching to the middle of his wrist.

The pain hits him suddenly and a scream erupts from his throat.

His vision comes and goes; one moment Gold is standing above him, the next Killian is leaning over Milah, the blood spilling from his hand onto her unmoving body.

There's more people screaming; people shouting; sirens, blue and red lights...

Then white. So much white.

Killian is just three days younger of twenty-eight when he once again thinks how he's cursed.

Milah is dead, there is no doubt about that. His hand was amputated, and he has to spend a whole week in the hospital before the doctors clear him for a transatlantic flight.

In the meantime he learns that Milah's body was sent back to England, per Gold's request.

At first, he finds it impossible; but the cops who'd questioned him about the assault soon inform him that Gold has solid alibi in London at the time of the murder.

Killian almost shuts down in the week he has to spend in there; Gold must have stolen Killian's phone before fleeing the scene of the crime, and Killian has no way of contacting Nemo, and he didn't let him know the specifics of his trip in the first place, like when exactly his return trip would’ve been.

If Nemo had known, he would have worried after not getting any news from Killian the day he was supposed to return. He would have contacted hospitals, would have found out about the assault. Probably would even honor Killian's request to attend Milah's funeral in his place, if Killian had the guts to actually ask him for that.

And to top it all, Nemo's phone at home is out of order. Why didn't he ever bother memorizing his cell phone? Now all Killian can do is lie in his hospital bed and do his damnedest to avoid looking at where his left hand is no more.

The blasted week goes by; Killian spends the rest of his savings into a new return trip, the only one he can afford has two stops in between.

He's dead tired, hungry, with fresh dog crap under his sole, and somehow he's not surprised to see his apartment has flooded.

It's three in the morning and he contemplates walking through the ankle-deep water anyway and collapsing in his bed.

He stands so long in front of the open door of his apartment that eventually the downstairs neighbor comes to complain about water dripping into his place.

One call to the fire department later, Killian picks up his two bags – he didn't have the heart to throw Milah's stuff away – and takes a taxi to Nemo's place.

Nemo obviously got out of bed to let Killian in, and of course, he asks Killian what happened.

It's like he's seventeen again, unable to react to one of the most life-changing news he ever received, only the opposite, in the most grim way that he never dared imagine.

He's hiding his handless arm inside his jacket pocket and silently walks the stairs up to his old bedroom. He doesn't answer Nemo's questions next morning, he doesn't even sit down to get breakfast. He goes straight to the lawyer Milah had during her divorce.

Gold is paying people to give false testimony, and Killian is gonna take him down.

Too consumed in his own hatred for the man, the whole week he spent planning his comeback he didn't think of the problems the lawyer is listing now; Killian was drunk – as evidenced by hospital records – enough for his testimony to be considered debatable; he also has motive to want to get back at Gold, stronger than Gold's motive to kill his unfaithful wife three whole years post their divorce which concluded in his favour; and of course, one has to prove first that Gold's witnesses are lying before questioning Gold's alibi of more than five thousand kilometers away from the scene of the crime.

Killian doesn't return to Nemo's place. His own apartment stinks, damp and moldy, half of his furniture and appliances were ruined, but at least his bed is functioning, and he can't deal with Nemo's sympathy right now.

He needs to take Gold down. He can't have any more distractions.

It takes him a month to remember his therapist. He checks his emails for the first time since the assault, and he feels he loses another part of him at the news of his therapist moving towns to study for a doctorate; she's suggested other therapists at him, followed by two more emails of asking if everything is okay, then nothing.

Killian looks at the names and phones of the suggested therapists as if they're threats to his consciousness. He actually laughs. Dr. Eriksen had him since before he was even an adult and she knew everything about his fucked-up adolescence. Where would he even begin with someone new?

He deletes the email.

For two years, his whole life centers around finding weak spots in Gold's armour. He quits from Shakespeare's boat rental and works at stock in the harbor. It's a tough, time-consuming job, but it keeps him in view of the sea and gets his mind off his pain. Alcohol takes over that job in his time off.

He stops drawing; Milah used to draw with him and it nearly breaks him to pick up a pencil to sketch. The last thing he sketches is the design for the tattoo with her name on it that is soon permanently inked on his arm.

Two years of trying, as much as his exhausted psyche and a mind always leaning towards booze can handle, and the best he manages is to break into Gold's house, hack through his computer and locate some suspicious activity between Gold's bank account and the one of one of his witnesses.

Thirteen years of no spots in his criminal record mean nothing to the law when there are spots in it in the first place, and he's arrested for breaking and entering.

Nemo responds to Killian's call to bail him out, even though Killian has barely spoken to him in two years. However, the disappointment is, for the first time since Killian met him, visible on his face.

“It's your decision,” Nemo tells him after Killian is out. “Your path to choose, and your life to ruin.”

If it were anyone else, Killian would be flipping him off. But Nemo is the one who took Killian in as an assortment of broken pieces and put him back together, loving and patient all throughout. The one who has always been too good to be called a mere father.

“It's not just wanting to get back at that bastard,” Killian says, nearly shouting. At Nemo's small flinch, Killian breathes in and out. Among all his losses, it's the first one that has filled him with such rage. “That monster killed her in cold blood. And he's out there now, not paying for his crime-”

His voice is too unsteady now to accommodate shouting.

“It's not just personal. He killed her-” A soft sob breaks his sentence in half. “-and he's walking free.”

“The world is not fair,” Nemo says in a very soft voice, hand resting on Killian's shoulder. “Come home, son. This isn't what you need right now.”

“No. I need to see him behind bars.”

“You need to grieve.”

Killian scoffs, laughing mirthlessly. “It's been two years.”

“Exactly.”

He drops his gaze. If he looks at Nemo's face right now, he may crumble, and his efforts of two years – albeit not very successful – will be rendered pointless. The time he lost, the damage he's done to himself, to his relationships with everyone, Nemo, Shakespeare, Will and Tink, it will all be for nothing.

And worst of all, he'll be yet another one who will do Milah wrong. If he gives up, he'll be doing to her nothing better than what Gold did, and the very thought sickens him.

There's only one thing he changes. His drinking has reached new levels, and he needs, if nothing else, to survive in order to bring Gold down. So for now, AA meetings are something.

At first, he only talks about how he manages to stay clean, how he slips and how he tries to not beat himself up over it. His fifth meeting is on a particularly bad day; the story of watching the love of his life die slips from him, and across the circle he gets looks of pity that he hates.

If only he told everyone about the furious thoughts for revenge on Milah's murderer that have been plaguing his every waking thought for the past two years.

He slumps in his seat and stays silent for the rest of the meeting. He shouldn't have come today, he should have known he would be too emotional to think rationally before speaking.

The meeting ends and he's already made up his mind to look into other AA groups before he even exits the building.

“Excuse me,” a voice calls at him.

He turns. It's Eloise Gardener, one of the attendees.

“On the last meeting you mentioned that mental activities keep your thoughts away,” she says.

“Yeah?”

“I'm hosting gardening classes, two evenings a week at the Bare Feet Greenhouse. I thought I could invite you to join, they're already quite cheap and I'll give you a discount.”

“Your name is Gardener, innit?”

She smiles. “And I am a gardener. Shocking, I know. But I've found it's a good distraction, especially knowing you're taking care of a life. You get the satisfaction without committing to... raising a child, let's say.”

Killian decides it's worth a try; unlike the AA meetings, raising a plant actually has visible proof of progress.

He stops coming to the meetings, but Eloise doesn't ask him why. She teaches him and guides him through providing a good environment for his plants.

One night after class, she helps him move the pots with his grown plants to his apartment. He doesn't truly invite her in, and when she initiates a kiss with him, he takes a few seconds of thinking before he realizes he doesn't mind that much.

It's just fuck, and Eloise doesn't seem to be thinking it's anything deeper than he does.

If he thinks it's any deeper, he'll just be haunted again by that miserable thought, that the last person he kissed before Milah died was not Milah herself, but a random stranger whose face he wasn't even sober enough to remember.

Eloise leaves and within minutes, he's left as well to search for any open store that sells booze. Rain is pouring down, cars splash him until he's soaking wet, but he finally gives up when he trips and falls, his leg hurting too much to take him too much further.

Even the couple of hours he stays in the hospital while they put a walking cast on him feel unbearable. Two years have gone by and the memories of hospital misery are still too raw.

Eloise doesn't comment on the cast nor his continued absence from the AA meetings. She invites him to her place and after they have sex he asks if he can stay the night. That way it's much easier to avoid looking for a drink to deal with how disgusted he feels.

Even the other people attending the gardening lessons wouldn't imagine Eloise and Killian are sleeping together – and Killian is attending two different classes side by side. Not that there's anything to show for it. They just fuck, sleep in the same bed, and that's all. She keeps him from running out for a drink in the middle of the night, better than any AA meeting managed, he gives her a person to have control over the way she wants, and they scratch each other's itches.

Nemo keeps trying to stay in touch with him, and Killian nearly blocks his number out of pure shame. Perhaps if Nemo realizes he's been blocked he'll stop bothering.

Killian has practically moved in with Eloise now, or she with him; in any case, they'll sleep in the same bed every night, whether it's the one in Killian's apartment or the one in Eloise's house.

He cannot connect who he was before with who he is with Eloise now. Before Nemo even adopted him officially, Killian had allowed him to pick up his pieces and make him a functional human. With Milah, it was Killian who was the whole, the rock she could lean on.

With Eloise, he can once again be broken, but without any expectation to get fixed back up – and he's too tired for unrealistic expectations. He can stay the mess that he is, sharing his body and his space with her so that he can feel something, even when the feeling isn't the best. Eloise is controlling and demanding, and Killian's feelings for her range from fear to disgust, but he prefers those over pain, grief, rage, and a continuously burning thirst.

It's easier to hate his... “partner” than to hate everything else in his life, including himself.

He's actually shocked to realize two years have passed since his first time with Eloise, and nothing at all has changed. Their feelings didn't change towards one way or another; they just kept fucking, sleeping next to each other, and going by their day without thinking about each other.

He almost hates it when she asks him to ride with her to a concert in Maidstone. Not only because she's making ensuring no-one assaults her sound like a chore, but also because he's still not ready to enjoy music he used to love. Especially not in her presence. Being in her company is not a circumstance that fits happy thoughts.

There's a lot of things he's been denying himself since Milah died. Everything that used to make him happy, even the company of his family, feels sullied now.

He doesn't expect to enjoy the concert. But Eloise buys his ticket and drives the car, so he decides that he can tolerate one night of being a boy toy to discourage sleazebags.

It doesn't even feel that special that his birthday is tomorrow; he lost Liam a few days after his fifteenth birthday, and Milah a few days before his twenty-eighth. Maybe it's just not in the cards for him to celebrate it again.

For three whole hours, he forgets everything. There's just the music, and the lights, and his throat getting sore from singing without a care.

There is, of course, the occasional groping, people stepping on his feet, even getting an elbow to the ribs, but for him it's all par of the course now. Including checking his pockets afterwards and realizing that twenty pounds are missing. And Eloise being... well, Eloise.

“You were supposed to stand by my side,” she starts complaining after the concert is over and people start dispersing.

“I can assure you I was touched against my consent far more than you were.”

“Is that supposed to be an excuse?”

Ugh, her arrogant, calm face she makes when she tells him off. He hates it.

“If you wanted an actual bodyguard, you should have hired one. I only have one hand,” he bites back at her.

“Really? I get you a birthday gift and you consider this an appropriate response.” There’s no question mark in her tone.

“Oh, piss off. As if you've given a fuck about my birthday all these years.”

Her lips purse together, but her voice keeps that cool tenor that irritates him to no end. “I wanted to make it a good one for you. Just because you don't care about it doesn't mean no-one else does.”

He sighs. He actually had a good time and he doesn't want it ruined by her gaslighting. He's experienced people actually caring for his birthday, and he knows Eloise's words are just words. Next, she'll say that she contacted Scorpions themselves and asked them to have a concert the day before his birthday.

She shakes her head and goes for the portable toilets. At last, he can have some time on his own. He turns his head away and back to the scene, now completely empty.

No One Like You wasn't exactly the song he liked the most tonight, but it's the one he can't stop humming. He's humming!

Maybe he does owe Eloise a bit. Just a bit.

"Catchy tune, huh?" he hears from the side.

He turns, seeing a woman with a wide smile on her face.

"Oh, which one isn't?" he says, smiling back. "What a night."

The woman nods. "Did you have fun?"

The words pour out of him like vomit. "A lot of people stepped on me, I got groped, pick-pocketed, and I got in a fight with my...” – How should he call her? – “friend, but you know what?" He shrugs. "Bloody worth it."

"Oh.” Her face softens. “Sorry that you were mugged."

"Ah, it was like, twenty quid. I've known better than to carry credit cards where hands can easily reach." A very dedicated hand, maybe. There's only so many hiding spots he has.

"Do you have a ride back home?" the woman says.

He stares at her, and he feels his jaw drop when he realizes. "Bollocks. I overshared, didn't I?"

She just smiles. "I mean, I have a car, and space for two... how many of you are there?"

He scratches behind his ear. "Don't worry. We've got a car. And we going right back to Brighton, anyway."

"Oh.” She seems to think for a moment. “I don't even know where that is."

He holds back a laugh. "Figured so. From your accent."

Her smile widens. "I'm Emma," she says, extending her hand.

"Killian," he gives his hand back, careful to keep his left arm inside his jacket pocket. She's still looking at his face when he drops his hand to his side. "So... you know that they're actually having a few concerts in the States for this tour, right? How come you decided to fly all over to here?"

"Well, today... or more like, yesterday," she pauses as she checks her watch, "was my birthday. This was more like a birthday gift to me, and of course I'm going to see them in-” She pauses suddenly. “What?"

She's obviously cut off by the expression on his face. "You're not kidding? Tomorrow- or, today, is my birthday."

"Wow. Happy birthday, then."

"Happy birthday to you too. Seems it was a great one."

Emma seems happy as she looks back at the now empty stage. "I'd say one of the best ones. Does your birthday seem promising?"

His chest feels twice its normal size when she turns to look at him. Somehow, with their birthdays being so close, it feels as if her having had a great birthday is feeding his own satisfaction for that day, for the first time in four- no, five years.

Some of her slightly messy hair is sticking to her face – she probably went all out dancing tonight – and her eyes seem to droop in drowsiness, but she's absolutely glowing.

Glowing and looking at him.

When she takes a step towards him, it feels like it's gravity that's pulling his own body to her.

"It seems that way, aye," he replies.

Her eyes close when she's a few inches away from him, but he waits for the moment his lips touch hers to close his eyes.

(A/N: I want to remind the readers that this chapter is told from Killian's point of view, distorted as it is from grief, rage and isolation from the people he loves. Emotional progress is almost never visible in the short term, especially regarding addictions. Killian might have thought the AA meetings didn't help him, but it doesn't mean that giving up and depending on a controlling person to keep him clean was the healthy thing to do.

I know it's a work of fiction but some lines are easily confused, so the message I want to pass is that if you or a loved one is trying to let go of an addiction, keeping up the effort when progress isn't directly visible may be hard, but it's worth it and will eventually help.)

#Killian Jones #Captain Swan #captain swan ff #cs ff #ouat ff #akfgl #captain swan movie marathon #I swear I hadn't planned on posting this on Colin's birthday 😅#it's just how it came up #piracytheorist writes

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nemo-of-house-hamartia · 3 years

Note

Hey Nemo I saw you were still struggling with your writing and your OCs still. I know this won’t cure the struggles and doubts but your writing is really good and enjoyable. And if you ever want to you can always talk to me about your bbies and their stories. Just like you said I could with you.

I believe in you. Sending you comforting vibes~!

-Faye

Hi there, Faye! <3 thank you so much for taking the time of writing to me, you are so so sweet and I appreciate it more than I can actually express in words. And trust me, your words mean the world to me. They truly do. I guess, I am just at a moot point with myself, where I am still writing, still want to explore everything, but the moment I open Word Documents, I just find myself stuck. I am not kidding, I am truly almost done with all the second chapters of all the ficlets that I have ongoing right now, they just need a few details added and editing... but for some reason, I cannot find in myself to finish them. My mind just go with "What's the point?". Plus, I feel the pressure of having to work on them constantly, to update them as soon as I can, and this blocks me even more. Moreover, because writing "proper stories" is something relatively new to me, I am still trying to figure out how to proceed with outlining, plotting and characters creation, and considering the amount of OCs I have for Syndicate alone, it's a struggle. And this is without considering the emotional scarring that I still bring with me from the old days, where people would tear you apart if you were to write something that didn't align with their vision or canon. (which apparently hasn't died out, considering the anon that I received a while ago, tho, I am mostly inclined to believe that they were a troll, so they can go and live under the bridge, where all trolls should gather). I do a good job keeping those fears at bay, because I remember that I want to do what I want for the fun of it, and to hell with everything else. But sometimes they are still lurking there, bothering more than anything else. I am my worst enemy in that sense, which is why I think I was trying to loosen up a little by drawing since that's something that I have been doing for more than 20 years, and that's something that I feel more secure about (as I said, I always feel like I am more of a visual artist than a writer.) And I swear, I hate complaining about it, because I know I probably come out as a whiny bitch, but I am truly at a point where I don't know what to do with myself, writing-wise! Like, I want to write, I want to share, but something is just blocking me! (i don't know if it makes any sense!) But let me tell you this: your offer of listening to me blabbering about my babies actually comforted me more than I can say. Truly. And gods, please, tell me more about Anna, Madeline, and Felicity, because I am so curious about them! those 3 babies deserve so much love! <3 And I am here ready to adopt them as my adoptive daughters, ready to wrap them in a blanket with hot cocoa!! Thank you so much for reaching out, Faye. You are truly an awesome friend. <3 --Nemo

#my asks #friends❤

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kmomof4 · 5 years

Text

Ch8 Time and Again

All right y'all! We made it! It is smut time!! After the first POV change though. Hope you enjoy the new chapter!!

Ao3 link

All the love and hugs and flails to the best beta in the world @hollyethecurious and the bomb when it comes to encouragement and getting me out of my own head @winterbaby89!!! This fic wouldn’t be what it is or even here in the first place without you ladies!!! Thank you both so much!! Love y'all!!!

Also a big shout out and internet hug to the CSSNS ladies for all their advice and encouragement along the way! Thank you all so much!

And to all of you who are reading, I cannot thank you enough!! Words truly can’t express what all your flails, comments, reblogs, and kudos mean to me! We are nearing the end of this journey and I hope you like what I have in store!

Tagging my peeps: @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @snowbellewells @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @jennjenn615 @kingofmyheart14 @profdanglaisstuff @branlovestowrite @thisonesatellite @ultraluckycatnd @flslp87 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @let-it-raines @shireness-says @kymbersmith-90 @darkcolinodonorgasm @bethacaciakay @searchingwardrobes @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @aprilqueen84 @qualitycoffeethings @superchocovian @artistic-writer @donteattheappleshook @doodlelolly0910 @seriouslyhooked @tiganasummertree

Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

A/N: This chapter is about 90% smut. It begins at the first POV change. Feel free to skip if it’s not your thing.

“We’re home, love,” Killian murmured in Emma’s ear.

He watched as she blinked her eyes open, looked around, and saw that they were pulling up to the dock behind the house. Sitting up from his chest, she stretched.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked with a smirk on his face and eyebrow raised.

“Mmmmmm,” she hummed, her arms raised up above her head before she turned to him and caught his smile. “Yes, I did. I had a very plush, fuzzy pillow to sleep on.” She sent a matching smirk his way and looked up at him from underneath her eyelashes. “It’d be good to sleep on tonight, too,” she whispered huskily, placing her hands on his chest and leaning in. He couldn’t help the way his cock stirred to life with her warm breath tickling the shell of his ear.

“Minx,” he replied, pulling her back into his chest so that he could claim her lips. It was brief, a chaste kiss that did little to cool the ardor in his blood. Releasing her, he smirked as she looked rather discombobulated, whether from just waking up from a two hour nap or his kiss, or a combination of both, he couldn’t tell. But it did give him a sense of male pride that his kiss may be responsible for it.

He got up and approached Nemo, hand outstretched towards the captain. “Thank you, my friend. I think it’s safe to say,” Killian glanced bashfully at Emma after Nemo shook his hand, “that we had a wonderful day today.”

“I’m so glad you did,” Nemo replied. “And milady,” he remarked, turning to Emma and taking her hand, “I hope to see you on the Jolly Roger again soon.” He bowed low and placed a kiss to her knuckles as he bid them farewell.

Killian, with the cooler on his arm, disembarked to the dock and held his hand out to Emma. Once she joined him, he held out his elbow for her to take as he escorted her through the greenery that surrounded the pool. The sun was already well behind the screen surrounding them, so as they stepped into the pool area, it was already a cool, shaded oasis away from the blazing South Texas sun.

They continued into the house where Killian unpacked the cooler and Emma looked up recipes for how to cook her prize. Finding an easy baked fish recipe, Emma handed Killian her phone while she got to work preparing sides and opening the wine.

Settling down to their meal, Killian smirked at her. “My turn to ask a question,” he cajoled. “First though, since I didn’t get a chance to tell you earlier, my favorite book is probably Lord of the Rings.”

“Lord of the Rings,” she asked, delighted, “I love it too! But I would have thought Peter Pan was your favorite, with the Jolly, I mean.” Her eyes twinkled merrily.

“Oh, well, I have fond memories of my mom reading it to us before she died.” He shrugged and scratched behind his ear. “So, that’s where the name came from. Captain Hook was my favorite character. But as far as my favorite book that I’ve ever read, it’d have to be Lord of the Rings. The world building and the history, languages, everything, just fascinate me. Now, tell me about one of your best memories growing up.”

Emma sat back and took a sip of her wine. She appeared to be lost in thought for a moment before she came back to herself. “How I found out that Ingrid was going to adopt me.” She nodded decisively. “That is without any doubt my best memory. It was my 15th birthday. I’d been with Ingrid for two months by that time. She took me, just me, to the carnival that was in town. We played carnival games, rode the rides, about made ourselves sick with cotton candy and funnel cakes. I laughed more that day than I ever had in my life.” She smiled softly, remembering.

“As the day was coming to an end, we stopped and got a hot dog from one of the vendors. When we sat down to eat, Ingrid pulled out a large catalog envelope from her bag and sat it in front of me. I knew that those kinds of envelopes contained new assignments for us foster kids. I remember my vision blurring as I realized that she was sending me away, and she must have decided to try and make me feel better by taking me to the carnival.”

Tears filled her eyes at the memory and Killian took her hand in his. “Ingrid was watching me closely to gauge my reaction and it didn’t take her long to realize that I had the wrong idea. She grabbed my hand, just like you did,” she said, nodding to their joined hands on the table, “and all but cried with me as she tried to convince me that she wanted to adopt me, not get rid of me.”

A smile broke out then as a tear escaped its confines and tracked down her cheek. Killian reached over and caught it on the pad of his thumb. She wiped the rest of her tears away with the back of her other hand. “So yeah,” she repeated, looking down, “that’s my favorite memory. The rest of the kids in the house were reassigned by the new year and the adoption was final on February 7. We still celebrate it,” she whispered.

“As well you should,” he agreed softly, willing her to look up at him. When she did, he leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

She looked away, blushing. “Well, you did ask,” she murmured.

She unclasped their hands and dug into her meal. The conversation never flagged or veered into uncomfortable territory for the rest of the evening. The flirting, banter, and innuendo flowed as freely as the wine as they enjoyed the baked mackerel with new potatoes and asparagus.

When they finally finished their meal and cleaned up the kitchen, Emma turned to him with eyes wide with nervousness and hope. “Do you want to try this again?”

“Do you?” he asked. “I’m so sorry for last night, Swan,” he murmured, coming over to her and drawing her into his arms. “I mean,” he tried to explain, “I can’t say I’m truly sorry for stopping last night, for the reasons I gave you. But I certainly didn’t intend to hurt you. Or to make you think that you were anything less than completely desirable. But I also think that after the day we’ve spent together, there’s a better and stronger connection between us. And that will only make things better. Don’t you think?” he asked, the tips of his ears burning and all the hope he felt shining in his eyes.

“Yes, I do,” she agreed. She placed a finger on his lips when he opened his mouth to say more. “Shhhh,” she quieted him, “It’s not time for talking now. Let’s forget about last night and move forward.”

He nodded, drawing her finger into his mouth and swirling his tongue around the tip. His midnight blue eyes, holding all his love and desire, held hers as she drew in a sharp breath.

~*~*~

Staring into his eyes, she came to a realization. She was done. Done fighting. Done fighting against what he was asking for. Done fighting against what she wanted. She was his and he was hers. At least, she hoped he was. She rose up on her toes and drew his mouth to her own. She could still taste the Chardonnay on his lips as he traced the seam of hers with his tongue. She moaned as she granted him entrance and tangled her hands in his hair as he maneuvered her head just right to deepen the kiss. She lost all sense of space or time as he leisurely explored the recesses of her mouth and received her own in kind.

She wrapped her legs around his narrow hips as he lifted her from her feet. His hands held on to her ass as he walked them to the master suite, continuing to plunder the depths of her mouth. Their lips finally separated as he deposited her on the bed. She looked up and caught her breath at the desire that blazed in his eyes. Desire for her. She pushed herself up towards the pillows as he climbed up and hovered over her.

“I have dreamt of this so many times over the years, Swan,” he admitted, lowering himself on top of her, peppering light and teasing kisses to her jaw and neck. “Please tell me this is real, Emma. Tell me I’m not dreaming,” he murmured into her skin.

“You’re not dreaming,” she gasped, as his lips closed on her pulse point and gave a hard suck. The pleasure shot straight to her core and she could already feel the tightening coil as she writhed beneath him.

He released her with a smirk as he looked down to admire his handiwork. Soothing the area with his tongue, Emma thought she would die from his attentions before he even got her clothes off. Backing away from the edge he had already brought her to, she pulled his lips back to hers again. She felt like she could kiss him forever. The dreams didn’t hold a candle to the real thing, she thought as their tongues danced and desire flooded her.

Her hands explored his clothed chest until they worked their way under his shirt to feel the hard planes of his abdomen and pecs. She could feel Killian begin his own explorations as he slowly caressed her through her shift. She pulled his shirt over his head, whimpering when they had to break the kiss to do so. His lips crashed back to hers as his hands started working on the tie of her coverup. He rose above her as he drew the sides away from her scantily clad form. His eyes darkened even further as they roved from her face to her breasts to her center and down her long legs.

“Do you have any idea how hard it was keeping my mind out of the gutter today when you were sunning yourself on the Jolly? All that bare skin on display, kissed by the sun,” he murmured, lowering himself to her again and kissing down her neck, collar, and sternum until he reached the bottom of the bikini top where he plunged his tongue into the gap between her breasts and the flimsy pieces of fabric that kept them from his sight. Her skin was on fire as he reached behind her, untied, and removed the offensive material. “So beautiful, so perfect,” he crooned, soaking her in, “mine,” he finished, his voice nearly a growl as his tongue flicked out and swirled around the sensitive bud.

“Yes, yours,” she keened, arching into him, “all yours.”

He drew her aching nipple into the warm cavern of his mouth and she thought she might explode from the pleasure that he sent zinging through her body. His hand sought out the neglected breast as his mouth continued its sensual assault on its twin. Weighing it in his hand, his fingers circled and plucked until her nipple was a sharp peak. She could feel herself approaching the edge again as he continued his erotic ministrations. He released her breast with a pop and sent her a smouldering smirk before he pushed and held her breasts together and flicked each nipple back and forth with his tongue. The action sent her to even greater heights before he released her and continued kissing a trail down past her navel until he reached the even flimsier excuse for a cover over her most intimate place. He nosed at her covered center, inhaling deeply.

“Killian,” she moaned, “Killian, please,” she begged.

“As you wish, darling,” he whispered into her overheated skin.

He pulled the bikini bottoms down her long legs and tossed it over his shoulder as he kissed his way back up her limbs. She shivered in ecstasy as he got closer and closer to where she was wet and aching for him. He nosed at her curls and drew a finger through her soaked folds.

“All this, for me?” he asked, flicking his tongue out to taste her essence that coated his finger. He drew it fully into his mouth and shut his eyes as he moaned in appreciation. “You taste divine, Emma,” he groaned, releasing his finger with a pop. “I can’t wait to taste you properly.” He settled himself between her legs and looking up at her through his lashes, his eyes held hers. “May I?” he implored her.

Emma thought that she would explode if he didn’t put his mouth on her soon. She nodded, wordlessly before her arms gave out and she landed flat on the bed just as she felt Killian’s tongue draw a long swipe through her drenched core. She keened as she felt him plunge two fingers into her dripping center all while drawing her clit between his lips and sucking for all he was worth. She detonated with a scream of his name as her thighs clenched on either side of his head holding him to her. He brought her down slowly as she mumbled incoherently into the pillow she rested on. When she came back to herself, Killian sat on his haunches in between her legs with his cock on glorious display to her appreciative gaze. He must have removed his trunks at some point during all that.

Beckoning him forward with a sultry gaze on his splendid cock, she whispered, “My turn.”

She raised herself from where she lay on the bed and pushed against him until he was flat on his back with his head toward the foot of the king sized bed. She straddled him and ground down on his impressive length, watching as his eyes rolled in the back of his head with a long moan working its way out of his throat. He grabbed her hips and held her there as he thrust his hips into hers, creating delicious friction, but not giving them both the contact they craved.

She backed away from him until his red and weeping cock was squarely in her sights. She flicked her tongue out and caught the bead of precum that had gathered at his slit. “Mmmmm,” she hummed, “delicious.”

She looked up at him through her eyelashes and beheld her man thoroughly wrecked. His pupils were blown until only the thinnest rims of midnight blue remained, and his hair was sticking up in every direction from where she’d been grasping it.

Emma leaned forward and took him into the moist heat of her mouth. She bobbed her head up and down his length, every other beat swirling her tongue around the sensitive head. She could feel herself getting wetter as she listened to his moans and pleas. She hollowed out her cheeks and gave him a good suck before releasing him with a pop. She shot him a cat-that-ate-the-canary smile before she crawled back up and claimed his mouth with her own.

She could still taste herself on his tongue as they battled for dominance. He wound his fingers in her hair as he crushed her body to his. Releasing her lips suddenly, he flipped them toward the head of the bed. She was on her back with her legs spread for him as if they had done this dance a thousand times before. Killian stared into her eyes as he settled himself in the cradle of her thighs, his cock hitting her just right. He ground his hips into hers, coating his length in the evidence of her desire. Demanding lips met hers in a passionate kiss of possession as he lined himself up at her entrance.

Wrenching her lips away from his, she peppered his scruff and neck with teasing, biting kisses as she waited for him to fill her. “Please, Killian,” she begged, “Take me now.”

“As you wish,” he choked out as he buried himself in her depths. She screamed as another blinding orgasm crashed over her. Her walls rippled along his shaft as he held himself still waiting for her to drift back to earth and join him in their mutual desire. When she opened her eyes, he began to move, holding her spellbound. She couldn’t look away from the passionate desire that burned in their cerulean depths. Her eyes fell shut after a few thrusts, relishing the feeling of him along her walls. The pleasure was too much, the tension coiled too tightly. He lifted her leg and rested it over his hip, changing the angle enough that she trembled on the edge yet again. Burying his face in the crook of her neck, he reached between them and found her swollen nub.

“Come for me one more time, Emma,” he beseeched her.

She did as he bid with a silent scream and blinding white behind her eyelids. One, two, three more pumps of his hips and he joined her with a stuttering groan of her name. He pressed tender kisses into her shoulder and neck, before he claimed her lips with his own. Their heart rates started to even out as his tongue gently caressed hers. She whimpered as he rolled off of her before drawing her back into his arms.

“Sleep now, love,” he whispered in her ear, “We have all the time in the world.” He kissed her temple as she succumbed to dreams.

~*~*~

Killian woke sometime later with his arms wrapped around the woman he loved as her back was nestled against his front. He realized that, though there was nothing better than waking this way, his backside was cold. They had fallen asleep on top of the comforter, and after the sweat from their earlier exersions had evaporated, the running AC had cooled him enough now that he was wanting something between his naked skin and the air. He reached behind himself and tried to pull the comforter down enough that he could wiggle them both underneath it without waking his love. Unfortunately, even with his long arms, he wasn’t even close to the top of the comforter.

He rolled away from her and tried again, reaching for the top of the bed. Emma whimpered in her sleep and tried to snuggle back into him, reaching behind her to grab his arm and draw it over her body. She sighed contentedly when he rolled back to her, pulling the comforter down over them.

“What time is it,” she mumbled, still mostly asleep.

“I can’t tell,” he murmured into the skin behind her ear, placing a gentle kiss there. “My watch is on the nightstand and our phones are still in the kitchen.”

“Mmmmm,” she hummed, wiggling back into his arms.

She turned her head as he raised up to capture her lips with his own. He nibbled on her full lower lip before seeking entrance. She turned completely in his arms and tangled her fingers in his hair as she opened her mouth to his pillaging and plundering as if there was no tomorrow. He rolled her onto her back as his mouth commanded hers and his hands mapped the curves of her form. The low moan from the back of her throat told him that his efforts were appreciated, and with a growl of possession, his hands finally found the object of his desire where she was wet in her want of him. Her hips jerked as he sank two fingers into her welcoming heat and started the slow pumping that would bring her to ecstasy.

“There’s my Swan,” he praised, as she began riding his fingers. He watched as her face scrunched up in pleasure as she chased her release. “You are so beautiful when you come, Emma. I could watch you for hours.”

Emma tried to pull him back down to her, but he was having none of it. “Killian, please,” she moaned, her head thrashing back and forth, “I need…”

“I know what you need, darling,” he crooned, as he curled his fingers inside her just right and pressed his thumb into her swollen nub. “Come for me now, Emma,” he cajoled.

Her walls fluttered and clamped down on his digits like a vice. She let out an ecstatic moan that matched his own in length and volume before he crashed his lips into hers, prolonging her pleasure. He brought her down gently before lining himself up and sheathing himself in her scorching hot depths. They both let out a sigh of relief at being joined again so intimately before he slowly rocked into her, simply content to be one with her for a moment before his own need compelled him to move. Her own hips raised to meet him as he slowly pulled nearly all the way out before slamming back home again. Twin groans sounded the depths of their desire as they began to move together in a dance as old as time. Again and again his hips met hers as with each pass, he ground down on her clit, determined to bring her to climax with him inside her. He captured her lips with a desperate kiss when he felt her walls begin to flutter along his length. She kissed him back with an intensity that he could feel in his soul, as her arms tightened even more around him. She stiffened and moaned into his mouth as her orgasm crashed over her. The pulsing of her walls dragged him over into euphoria right along with her.

Killian continued to pump slowly into her as he felt himself start to soften. Holding her closely he buried his face into the crook of her neck and inhaled deeply. Placing a gentle kiss on her pulse point where he had left his mark earlier, he chuckled to himself.

“What,” his lover asked, somewhat dazedly.

He raised his head to look at her. “You smell like the ocean and sunshine,” he waxed poetically. She snorted and tried to push him away.

“Ocean and fish maybe,” she grumbled. “We never showered or anything after getting home.”

He couldn’t help the surge of happiness that rose within him at her use of the word ‘home.’ She looked up at him from under her eyelashes. “I seem to remember something about a whirlpool tub. A tub that fits two?” she asked coquettishly.

He waggled his eyebrows at her. “Indeed you did, Swan.” He pressed a brief kiss into her neck, eliciting a soft moan, before untangling himself from her and rising from the bed. “I’ll go run us a hot bath.” He sauntered away from her, knowing that she was staring at his bare ass, and unable to wipe off his grin at that knowledge.

“Make sure it’s very hot,” she yelled after him. “I want my skin pink when we get out.”

“As you wish,” he bellowed over the running water. Watching the water fill the tub as he stood over it, he felt svelte and toned arms wind their way around his middle.

Emma lay her head between his shoulder blades and placed a kiss there. “How much longer,” she whined.

He smiled and turned around in her arms, circling his own behind her back. Smiling down at her, he placed a peck of a kiss on the tip of her nose. “It’ll take several more minutes to fill a tub this size. But that doesn’t mean we can’t go ahead and get in.” He released her and crossed over to the vanity in between the double sinks. Opening the drawer there, he found what he was looking for. He turned back to find Emma just stepping down into the filling tub.

“Oooooooo,” she moaned as she stepped into the hot water. She settled herself down and turned her questioning gaze upon him. “What’s that?”

“This is the remote for the jets,” he said holding up the first object in his hand. “And this,” he clicked the lighter on and reached across the tub to the candles situated in the corner, “will light the candles for us.”

After lighting them, he straightened and placed the lighter back in the drawer before dimming the lights. Returning to the tub, he placed the remote on the side, and urged Emma to sit forward so he could take his place behind her. He wedged himself between her and the back of the tub and spread his legs so that she could come back and lay on him as she had that afternoon on the Jolly. She smirked at him as he situated himself before drawing her back to rest against his chest.

“Mmmmmm,” she hummed, “I got my furry pillow back,” she teased, snuggling down into him.

He could feel his cock begin to twitch as she wiggled her hips getting herself comfortable. His arms snaked around her and his fingers began their task of memorizing all the secret places on her body that made her shiver. He lay his head back against the edge of the tub and closed his eyes as he leisurely explored all that she had to offer him.

“I guess we should turn the water off now, huh?” she asked.

“Mmmmm,” he agreed, realizing that the water came up to her chest. He heard the water cut off as his hands cupped both of her breasts, testing their weight. “You have such beautiful breasts, Swan,” he praised. “I could sit here and simply touch you all night long and never get tired of gazing at your beauty.”

He thrust his hips against her backside as she tilted hers back to meet him with a broken sigh. He continued the kneading of her soft curves, rolling and pinching her nipples until they were hard points. She whimpered when his hands left their appointed tasks. One to pull her hair away from her neck and shoulder, so that his lips and tongue could join the sensual assault, the other traveling down to the molten center of her desire. When he flicked her clit, Emma slid down lower, spreading her legs further by draping them over his. Her hips rocked into his touch as a breathy moan left her lips.

“Leave your legs where they are darling, and come back up here to me,” he whispered in her ear. Keeping her legs spread, he lifted her hips and drew her back toward him before lowering her down on his rigid member.

“Oh, God,” she breathed. He lowered his head to rest on her shoulder as he basked in the glory of being inside her again. She reached up and behind his head, tangling her fingers in his hair. He pressed light and teasing kisses to her shoulder and neck as he slowly thrust into her willing heat. “Right there, Killian,” she moaned. He thrust again, feeling her shiver in his arms.

He relished making love to Emma in this way. Every inch of his skin was covered by her. Holding her to him, buried inside her, he felt whole in a way that he never had before. He knew there was no way he would ever be able to let her go. He would go to the end of the world for her. Or time.

The tension that was slowly building between them suddenly compelled him to brand her as his, from the inside out. He couldn’t lose her. His mouth clamped down on the other side of her neck from where he had already left his mark. He sucked heat to the surface of her skin as he tightened his arms around her and thrust into her like a man possessed. Her moans of rapture and the sloshing of the water barely reached his ears.

“Emma, Emma, Emma,” he chanted with every thrust. He could feel her walls poised on the edge of orgasm, so he reached back down and flicked her swollen nub. Her walls gripped him and they fell into the abyss together.

~*~*~

As she came back to herself, she felt Killian press tender, light kisses to the area that she knew he had left a bruise. “I’m sorry, Swan,” he murmured into her skin. “I think I got a little carried away.”

She smiled a sated, easy smile, and leaned back into his chest, turning her head until she could capture his lips.“Don’t worry about it,” she admonished, sending him a smirk full of mischief. “I think I rather like being marked by you. And I’ve got a matching set,” she said, running her fingers down both sides of her neck where he had left a sizable hickey.

“Minx,” he growled playfully, turning her around and pulling her even closer to him so he could take her lips again. After a few minutes of sweet kisses and gentle touches, simply intended to enjoy the other and not arouse, she pulled away and rested her forehead against his.

“You know, baths are not that great for getting clean,” she informed him, mirth dancing in her eyes. “And there is a rather large shower over there.”

“You’re right Swan, there is,” he agreed. “Shall we adjourn to it and actually get clean?” He waggled his eyebrows at her again with a smirk on his lips.

“I think that might be a good idea,” she admitted, standing up and letting the water droplets run down her body. The look in his eyes as he stared at her gave her a feeling of power and confidence like she had never felt before. He looked at her as if there was no one in the world as beautiful and desirable as she was and it melted her heart.

Breaking his gaze, she got out of the tub and walked down the steps to the shower in the corner. She turned it on as she heard him step out of the tub behind her. Stepping in, she saw body wash, shampoo and conditioner on the built in shelves. Killian joined her and pushed her under the spray.

He filled his hand with the shampoo and gently worked the vanilla scented substance through every strand on her head. She had never felt so cared for in her life. His gentle touches as he continued his ministrations, first washing and conditioning her hair and then her skin, brought her a peace and contentment that she thought she’d never have. This man, beyond any doubt, was her soulmate.

She smiled ruefully as Killian finished rinsing the body wash from her skin. She had shared the deepest secrets of her heart with him. His acceptance and understanding without pity, was somewhat unexpected, and deepened her love for him even more. And she knew he loved her. Even if he hadn’t said the words. It was evident in every look, every touch, every kiss. She felt whole with him. He completed her. Just like M’s said.

Turning to him, she raised up on her toes and kissed him with all the love in her heart. When they broke apart, several minutes later, they were both panting heavily. Without words, she filled her hand with the shampoo and massaged it through his raven locks. She washed his hair as his lips nibbled everywhere he could reach. “How am I supposed to wash your hair when you are doing that?” she asked.

“Not my problem, Swan,” he murmured into her skin. “How am I supposed to control myself when you’re standing there all naked and wet and tantalizing? Hmmmm?” He continued to kiss and nose along her jawline until she pushed him under the spray to rinse his hair and body and sank to her knees in front of him. He had denied her request to ravish him while he was attending to her, but now that she had her turn ministering to him, she could do exactly what she wanted to.

She wasted no time diving right in, swallowing him down until he hit the back of her throat. Looking up at him through her lashes, she saw his head thrown back against the tiles, the chords on his neck standing out as she bobbed up and down. His fingers tangled themselves in her hair as she continued her efforts. She gripped his base with one hand while the other fondled his balls. The unintelligible litany that poured from him made her smile around him as she felt his balls tighten under her assault. He tried to pull her off him as his member started to throb in her mouth.

“Emma, Emma, I’m gonna…” He exploded into her mouth with a long groan. She swallowed every drop and then licked his slit to make sure she didn’t miss anything. Leaving a parting kiss to his tip, she rose to her feet. Reaching behind him she turned off the shower while he recovered.

She let out a squeal when he unexpectedly pulled her into his arms and planted a firm kiss to her swollen lips. “You are a wonder, Swan,” he breathed. “And now, I think it’s time that we make use of that bed. For sleeping,” he asserted, with a finger to her lips as she sent him a saucy look.

After toweling off, they blew out the candles, turned out the lights, and crawled back into the bed. As she drifted off to sleep with the arms of the man she loved around her, she knew that she could never let him go. Her heart was in this for the long haul. She determined that she was going to take this week and think about what came next when they returned to Dallas.

#Time and Again #ch8 #cs smut #krystal writes #art by krystal

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fanforthefics · 5 years

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17, tyson/gabe

meeting at a party whilst drunk au

Tyson doesn’t believe in regret. Regret is for people with too much time on their hands, whose lives are filled with the plebeian and the mundane. Tyson is an artist, he carpes the diem, he lives his life to the fullest, he doesn’t take the time to look back and regret. He should basically be in Moulin Rouge.

That being said, he is maybe going to regret that last tequila shot.

“No, see, you don’t get it,” Tyson tells Nate, his solo cup waving in the air. “It’s just a boring class, it’s not even hard.”

“You want to trade?” Nate asks. He’s slumped on the couch, a beer in his hands that he looks too dispirited to even drink. His latest midterm really took it out of him. “You can be the mech e major, and I’ll go to your classes and draw shit.”

“But then who will support me when I’m a starving artist?” Tyson asks. He gives Nate his biggest, most pleading eyes. “I need someone to save me from my tuberculosis.”

Colin, from his other side, snorts and grabs Tyson’s solo cup before it tips over. “I think your dad’s money will do that,” he points out, which is maybe true but like, a low blow.

“Whatever. You guys are just lame,” Tyson informs them. “I don’t know why I’m friends with you.”

“Neither do I,” Colin replies easily. Tyson sticks out his tongue.

“Just for that, I’m going to go find someone else who will understand my woes,” he announces.

Nate sighs, like the world has crashed down upon his shoulders. “No, it’s good, I need to hear about someone else’s problems so me failing out of school won’t sound as bad.”

“You didn’t fail,” Tyson tells him, kicking at his leg. “Come on, get up, we need you moving.” He tugs. Nate sighs again, but at least now he’s upright. He just needs another drink and maybe some karaoke. Tyson’s going to go look into that, as soon as he’s done bitching. “But seriously. How am I supposed to get better as an artist if they don’t give me good models?”

“I thought you said that Roman was the model,” Colin asks. He seems to get on board with Tyson’s herding them through the party towards where the rest of the drinks are, which is good because Tyson needs one hand for pulling Nate along and one for his solo cup.

“Yeah, exactly, have you seen him? He’s way too pretty to be a model.” Tyson yells over the noise of the party. A dude they’re passing by turns to him, like he thinks they’re talking about him; Tyson nods to him because hey, no harm in letting him think that.

“I don’t think that makes sense,” Nate says, listless. “Or maybe I’m not smart enough for it to make sense.”

“Nah, you’re too sober for Tyson logic,” Colin tells him, patting him on the back.

“No, it’s real,” Tyson insists. “I mean, yeah, you are too sober, come on finish that and I’ll make you something. But also, it’s real. Beautiful people are boring to sketch, they’re just–beautiful. There’s nothing new about it. You draw one perfect face, you’ve drawn all of them. Like, look at him.” Tyson gestures across the kitchen, to where the most beautiful blonde man he’s ever seen is standing, talking to another large blonde man who seems to be missing some teeth. “He’d be boring to draw. I could draw him in my sleep, probably. There’s nothing interesting there.”

Maybe he says it too loudly. Maybe it’s one of those lulls in conversations that happen at parties. Maybe it’s just Tyson and his luck. Maybe this is that last tequila shot talking.

Whatever it is, the beautiful man turns around, and gives Tyson a look that has him half quaking and a lot turned on. “Excuse me?” he demands. Even his voice is hot, what the fuck.

Tyson, because he can’t not, doubles down. “You’d be boring to draw,” he tells him. “It’s not your fault, it’s just like, the one down side of being hot. I could draw you or I could draw Prince Charming, it’d be the same.”

“I am not boring,” the guy protests, his face drawing together thunderously. It’s actually a pretty interesting expression. His friend, however, is looking delighted. “I am interesting.”

“Fine, but your face isn’t. I mean, it’s gorgeous, and I’m an art student I should know, but it’s not interesting. See, this–” Tyson gestures to his face– “This is interesting. Your friend, without the teeth–that’s interesting.” The guy gives his friend a look like he’s betrayed his entire family. The friend is really grinning now. “You’re not.”

“I’m not?” the guy echoes. “Prove it.”

“What?”

“Prove it,” he says, like he’s won. “Prove I’m so easy to draw.” It’s a dare, and he sounds like he doesn’t think Tyson’s going to do it, which just shows how little he knows Tyson. Which maybe makes sense, as he doesn’t know Tyson.

“Fine,” Tyson announces, and gets an incredulous look from the guy, a cackle from his friend, a resigned chuckle from Colin, and another sigh from Nate, who really isn’t as invested in this as Tyson thinks he should be. “Someone get me some paper and a pencil, we’re doing this.”

“Tyson, you do abstract sculpture,” Colin mutters. Tyson ignores him.

“Fine,” the guy snaps back. “EJ–”

“Oh I am finding supplies,” the friend says. “Nemo must have them around here somewhere, don’t move.”

“Should we move?” the guy asks Tyson, all false solicitousness. “I wouldn’t want you to be disad–disadvantaged–” he sluts the word a little– “By bad lighting.”

“Fuck you, like you have bad lighting,” Tyson throws back. “We’re doing this right here. You, stand–” he pushes the guy back against the counter, where he’s got a decent contraposto going on. The guy goes, lets Tyson pose him, which means Tyson really gets some hands on knowledge of how muscled his arms are.

“Okay, I’m–wow, you move fast,” EJ says, coming back in holding a notepad and a mechanical pencil aloft like trophies.

“I’m posing him,” Tyson explains. He looks up–the guy is annoyingly, perfectly tall, of course–to find bright blue eyes looking down at him, still determined and a little hazy with alcohol but with a glint of good humor in them. It’s all very attractive. Tyson doesn’t regret this, exactly, but maybe he should have thought about this for a second. “You good? Not going to cramp up and mess me up?”

“This is fine,” the guys replies. “If you can handle it.”

“If I can handle it,” Tyson mutters, and grabs the paper and pencil from EJ. Neither of them are great quality, but whatever, he doesn’t need great quality. “I can handle you.”

“Sure,” the guy retorts, and grins. It’s a frankly devastating smile.

“Okay, clear the area,” EJ announces, pushing people away. “Come on, you get over there,” he tells Nate and Colin. Colin rolls his eyes and doesn’t move. Nate lets out a long breath but looks a little more interested in the proceedings as he moves people away, so, at least that’s a win.

Then Tyson sits down to draw.

It’s–look, he meant it. Beautiful people are easier to draw, in a lot of ways; they’re beautiful because they’re symmetric and simpler, basically. It’s like, basic aesthetic theory. But also, that’s only true if you don’t put effort into it, because the longer Tyson draws the more he sees, like, the little crinkles at the corners of the guy’s eyes like he smiles a lot, and the cocky set to his shoulders, and the smudge on his hand probably from pen, which means he probably is old school and likes handwritten notes. Tyson likes art because he likes to find that in people, in things; find the inside and make it the outside, and even drunk that’s true.

So all in all, the drawing’s not bad, even for a rough sketch, is what he’s saying, but he feels oddly shy when he puts down the pencil. Colin and Nate have wandered away a little chatting to EJ about who knows what; they aren’t paying attention anymore.

“There,” he says. “Done.”

“Well let me see,” the guy demands. “Come on, I have to judge if I really am that easy to draw.”

“Whatever, it was about interesting, not boring,” Tyson tells him, but he hands over the notepad, then waits as the guy stares down at it, his mouth gaping a little open.

Tyson is not capable of waiting for more than thirty seconds, though, so, “So?” he prompts.

The guy looks up. He doesn’t look so snappish anymore. “You should sign it,” he tells Tyson. “That’s what artists do, right?”

“What, you aren’t keeping–”

“Yes I am,” the guy says. “But first, you’re signing it.” He holds out the notepad. Tyson takes it back, looking at little skeptical. It’s not that good.

“And,” the guy goes on. “You should probably add your number. In case I have any follow up questions.”

Tyson freezes. Looks up halfway through his signature.

The guy is still looking at him, but there’s a smile twinkling in his eyes and the corners of his lips.

“That was really smooth,” Tyson tells him, and adds his phone number.

The guy laughs, and takes the notepad back, then switches hands so he can hold his right out for Tyson to shake. “Gabe,” he tells Tyson. His hand is warm, and lingers a little. “Maybe I can prove that I really am interesting–” he glances down at the sketch– “Tyson.”

Tyson grins back. Yeah, he regrets nothing.

#avs fic #avs tumblr fic #my fic #drunk dramatic art student Tyson has suddenly become very important to me #as he has not become to also drunk dramatic something else student Gabe #onahalladay #izzy answers

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leewaitingforler95-blog · 5 years

Text

He finds out you're ticklish. (1D Members)

Harry:

You and Harry were sitting on a picnic blanket and eating your favorite food one day at the park. Harry reaches over to grab some food for himself and accidently scratches your side in the process. You let out a stifled giggle hoping Harry didn't notice. But unfortunatley for you, he did. "What was that (Y/N)?" asked Harry with a smirk. "Nothing!!" you said desperatley hoping to deter Harry's attention to your suprising reaction. Harry reaches over and wraps his arms around your waist with his head on your shoulder. "Oh, really?" "Then you wouldn't mind if I did this then?" said Harry as he started to squeeze your sides and tummy and waist line. "Eihehehehhehehehehehehe!!" "Stahahahap ihit Hahahaharry!" you giggled. Harry smiles playfully. "I don't think that was nothing (Y/N)!" said Harry as he continued to squeeze your sides playfully. This was going to be a fun day!

Louis:

It was an extremley hot summers morning and you were trying to read a book quietly on a deck chair outside the flat you and Louis shared. Unfortunatley though, Louis was being annoying and was pestering you on and on for some attention. "(Y/N)!!" "ENTERTAIN MEEEE!!!!! I'M BOOORRREEEDDD!!!!" Louis yelled down your ear repeatedley. But you didn't answer, you were desperate to finish your book as it had to be back to the library tommorow. "AHHHHHHHH!!!!!" Louis screamed in fustration. "It's sooo HOT!! And, i'm sooo booorrreeeddd!!!!!!!! Come swimming with me (Y/N)!!!" he moaned but you just ignored him yet again. "Fine! If you won't talk to me then i'll have to make you talk!" Louis sat down on your extended legs from you putting your legs up to relax, and faced your feet which were bare. He started to tickle your feet and you squirmed like a fish underneath him. "AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! STAHAHAP IHIHIHIT LOU I'M AHAHA THAHALKING NOHOHOW!!! STAHAHAHAHAP!!!" you squealed as Louis tickled your worst spot. "YES!!!" Louis shouted as he finally got your attention. "Now please come swimming with me or that will happen again but worse!" he pestered. "Uggghhhhh.... fine!" you moaned. Louis knew this would be good for future reference.

Niall:

You and Niall had just finished eating Nandos and you were both sitting on the sofa watching Nemo as it was your favorite Disney film. You were cuddling into Niall's side and you lay your head on his shoulder when suddenly, you shivered against Niall's body. "You cold love?" he asked concerned. You nodded curtly enough for Niall to see it. Niall grabbed a nearby blanket and started to tuck it around your delicate body but when he got by your sides and tummy he felt you squirm a little. "Uhhh.. you okay (Y/N)?" he asked. "Umm.. y-yeah, just o-one thing though b-babe.... c-c-could you be m-more careful w-where your laying your h-h-hands h-hun?" you said quietly knowing soon that he would find out your deadly weakness. Niall looked down to where his hands were tucking the blanket into your body and smiled. "Awwwwww!" "Your ticklish honey!!!" he cooed as he started to poke you on your tummy and sides repeatedly while you squirmed beside him. "Nahahahahahahaha plehehehahsee quihihit ihihihit!!" you laughed. "Okay fine, just one more thing (Y/N)..... A RASBERRY!!" Niall said enthusiastically as he pushed you down and pulled your upperbody into his lap. "Nonononononononononono!!" "Niall baby, please don-AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!" "NOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!!" you screeched as he finished his dirty work on your now saliva covered tummy. Niall smiled evilly at you knowing that he now knew how to get you to do stuff for him. "Ugghhh... you are so gonna get it!"

Zayn:

You had somehow convinced Zayn to play hide and seek with you in the dark. "Come on (Y/N)!! Your not being fair!!" Zayn was secretley nervous you were gonna jump out, scare him and make him jump out of his skin again like the last time you played this game with him. Zayn could hear your muffled giggles from some where in the room but he just couldn't put his finger on it. When suddenly, he heard the creaking noise of a closet door opening and Zayn finally knew where you were hiding but pretended like he never heard it. You crawled back into your secret hiding spot thinking Zayn didn't know where you were. "He'll never find me here, he's terrible at hide and seek in the dark and he gives up all the time! Hehe!" you thought in your head. "Okay (Y/N)!!" "I give up, you win again babes!!" shouted Zayn as he hid down the side of the closet you were currently hiding in. "Okay!!" you shouted from the closet as you jumped out expecting to see Zayn but not finding him anywhere. Just as you were about to go and find your handsome boyfriend, Zayn pounced out of his hiding spot and sat on top of your body. "Hey babes!!!" Zayn said. "WHAT ON EARTH WAS THAT FOR ZAYNIE BUTT??!!" you screeched at him. "Hey, no shouting in my flat!!" "And i've decided that instead of you having all the fun, that I should have some fun for a change! Said Zayn with some emphasis on the 'I'. Zayn had always expected you were ticklish so he decided to test out his theory. "EEEEEIIIKKK!!!" "WHAHAHAHAT AHARE YOUHUHU DOING??" you asked him nervously. "Tickling you duuhhh!" "AHAHAHAHA!!" "WHEHEHELL STOHOHOHOP IHIHIT!!!!" you laughed. Now this was definatley going to come in handy!!

Liam:

Liam had just come off an interview with the press and you were waiting for him backstage. "Hey beautiful!" said Liam when he saw you. "Oh, get over it Lili i'm not beautiful." you say. Liam rolls his eyes and prepares for another argument about why he loves you and what he loves about you. "OF COURSE your beautiful." he argues as you walk hand in hand to his dressing room. "Oh yeah?" "I would love to see you try and prove your right which your NOT!" you say challengingly as you and Liam walk into his dressing room. "Oh, you wanna play that game do you (Y/N)??" said Liam with a smirk. "Sure....okay.... I can make you see that I AM right!" he said playfully as he wrestles you to the floor. "UGGHH!!!" Lili get offa meee!!" you moaned. "Nope!" "Sorry babes but you deserved this!" he stated. Liam had a feeling that you were ticklish so he decided now would be the perfect time to test it out on your vulnerable little body. ;D "Poke, poke, poke, poke, poke!!"said Liam as he poked your tummy and sides. "EiiiiiiiiII!!" "Dohohohohohon't dohohoho thahahat!!!!" you giggled. "I KNEW IT!!!" "HAHAHA!!" screamed Liam in victory. "knehehehehew whahahahat???" you said still giggling. "I had a big feeling you were ticklish and now I KNOW i'm right!!" said Liam as he continued his poking. "Nahahahahahahaha stahahahaha-AHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!" you screamed as Liam had just trailed over your bellybutton. Liam looked shocked. He never knew you would be THIS ticklish!! Liam started drawing circles around your bellybutton. "AHAHAHAHAHAHA NAHAHAHA STAHAHAHAP YOUOHOHOHOU WERE RIGHIHIHIT NOHOHOHOW STAHAHAHAP!!" you screamed. Liam stopped. "I knew it!" he said. And, that was that.

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pinkletterday · 6 years

Text

Oh thank God they aren't waiting till shit goes down to brief Team Flash.

LMAO Iris "what the newspaper says some shit? That's like Tuesday for us, bro."

Seriously though I'm tired of Iris being "tough". The best thing, maybe the only good thing, about Season 3 was that she was allowed to be soft and vulnerable and scared and sad. We badly need to roll back on this stoic tough chick trope. LET WOMEN BE EMOTIONAL FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.

I miss Soft Princess Iris. :(

SINGH. I missed Captain Singh. He's like Barry's number one stan. "You got an intern working a crime scene without going through any hiring protocol whatsoever, Allen? Good job!"

Incidentally how can you "hire" interns if you don't pay them?

So. Now that we've seen a man become compressed into a block of meat, can we have some PG 13 post-coital Westallen nookie? This show's attitude to sex is so fucked up. Shishkebab people 96 times per season but zero hints of a sex life between a loving, committed couple.

Nora, I love you but you may actually be worse than your Dad at showing up to crime scenes with flimsy excuses...*flashes back to introductory episode on Arrow 2x8* nvm

That block of meat is making me hungry. Need breakfast.

"Please stop caring about me" LOL

Ralph is sort of growing on me. Granted, so could fungus.

Okay that was mean.

I really hope Barry also tables his family drama for five minutes to be there for his best friend. Caitlin and Cisco keep being deprioritized since S2 - S3 and its grating on me. Be there for your friends too, Barry.

Excuse you, going to Thailand and painting your toes is a great way to get over a break-up. However, I strongly advise against any drastic hair decisions.

Oh. Poor guy. Be gentle, Mad Dog West-Allen

(Get it? Mad Dog Lane? TNAOS? Ok then)

I do like when they show civillian casualties. It makes what they do seem more impactful.

Is Joe on paternity leave?

I like these West family subplots. Joe and Cecile are v cute.

Cecile reading the mind of your child without their consent is the opposite of being the perfect parent. Wait till she's out and raid her room for drugs like everyone else.

Barry is like me with teenagers. "When I was your age it took five minutes just to connect to the internet and your search history turned up on your phone bill shut your gob."

Oh Nora. *facepalm*

Idk why Barry always calls his villains out. He's a speedster with the advantage of surprise. Its stupid.

"Denser than people who still believe in love." I feel you so much Cisco.

I see the CW is still forcing us to be minutely acquainted with people's chins.

SERIOUSLY just let Barry take five seconds out to give Cisco a comforting pat on the back Im so tired of this.

LOL Barry you're giving Nora math homework? That's just harsh.

Lmao Cisco is getting Anne Hathawayed HANDS OFF THE HAIR BRUCE. **proteccs lush beautiful Cisco curls*

"Does that mean you think there's something wrong with me?" NO BABY YOU ARE THE MOST PERFECT AND BEAUTIFUL

"You cut my hair I cut you" YOU TELL HIM

Oh. Oh my. Oh.

I have never been so attracted to Cisco Ramon before. Clearly I have been a fool.

Heee she raised her hand. "But Dad, I wanna punch stuff!" Most precious bean.

Errm pretty sure your Dad killed the Sand Demon, Nora. I don't care about DC's no-kill rule but that was not his finest moment.

Lmaoooo welcome to fatherhood, Barry.

Maybe a stern little talking-to wouldn't hurt at this point.

Whenever she says "Dad" my insides melt a little more.

Okay, Barry and Iris need to draw some hard lines between their professional lives. The investigative journalist cannot just waltz into her husband's CCPD lab and look through his laptop. Literally you could have done this at home instead of the lab. One day they're going to be accused of evidence tampering.

Shit like this takes me out of a scene unnecessarily.

Barry: "NORA ISN'T LISTENING TO ME SHE THINKS SHE CAN DO ALL THESE THINGS BUT SHE CAN'T, NEMO!"

Joe: *internally laughs himself stupid*

So this is why parents want their kids to reproduce. The sweet, sweet karmic payback. xD

(Fourth grade? Barry came to live with them when he was eleven. Also pretty sure Barry kinda hated Joe for a while what with having arrested his Dad and being traumatized. I can see him hero-worshipping Joe a couple of years later maybe.)

I can't get over how hot Cisco is. Bruce better not have burned his iconic t-shirts tho.

Aww, Caitlin. That sucks. :( I know the theme this season seems to be fathers and daughters but you should really talk to Iris about absentee parents who faked their deaths.

No seriously this is a great bonding opportunity for them! I need to see a solid friendship between the two main female cast members so bad it's been four seasons please throw me a bone

Oh, step twenty seven is hitting me hard too. I think I might actually like Ralph soon.

Okay, real talk. Yeah the superficial stuff can't distract you from the truth that your relationship tanked. But that whole cry on your couch for two weeks, get away to a seaside with friends, getting a makeover, buying new clothes, redecorating your living space - these are also rituals of grief and helps you cope till you get enough emotional distance to deal with reality. Superficial stuff is what makes life bearable, okay?

The other thing is to give relationship advice nobody asked for

Moving on.

I love that Cait and Cisco are always there for each other.

Awww Barry's showing Nora what a fuck up he truly is loool.

Oh my God. Season 1 Barry. "Sometimes for people with our abilities the most impressive thing is restraint." WE HAVE COME SO FAR. I'M LOVIN' IT! *prouds*

Yessss Iris being as smart as the nerd herd!

GO TEAM WEST-ALLEN!

Young lady, you roll your eyes at your mother one more time and we're gonna have words.

Kinda hate that in order to give villains a chance against speedster powers you gotta significantly bring the latter down several IQ points.

Baby got moves! Nice!

Barry! What about those moves you used to lay out the ARGUS guards??

This fight would be more impressive is I could see jackshit. Lighting, people!

Hmm. Did Cicada just have a "Save Martha" moment?

Nora is so scared and worried for her father, poor babb.

YES MARVEL REFERENCE!

Wait, so they got their powers back?

Y'know he didnt have to vibe that to realize the obvious next step is confronting Caitlin's mother.

Actually that sounds like respiratory problem. New villain - Halitosis.

Oooh Future Spoilers Girl knows who Cicada is

Aaand that's a wrap folks.

Ngl I had hoped for more "West" in Team West-Allen but this was a solid ep.

Please have Nora call Barry "Dad" as many times as possible k.

#the flash #the flash spoilers #liveblog #the flash 5x2

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voyages-extraordinaires · 6 years

Text

C:R ~VE~ Chapter 10

“You--? Why are you here?!”

Finis’ voice rings loud from the hall.

I sit up in my bed and look around. The lone window shows that the sun is beginning to set, casting a lavender hue over the beach.

I must have needed the rest more than I had thought. My mind feels clearer, though, and my confidence bolstered. I need to have faith in myself and in science. Yes… Nemo and I are both scientists. Surely, my love for science will overpower any foolish need of mine to confess my feelings. My goal must-- no, my goal WILL come first. I will sail under the sea, I will cross the Atlantic by submarine!

And then the door bursts open.

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONSOIR MON AMI!”

I can’t stop myself from laughing as Nemo bounds in and stretches out his arms, striking a pose nothing short of triumphant… and ridiculous.

Behind him is Finis, silent and dour.

“Aronnax…” he looks right at me. “You have disobeyed me…”

Instead of looking like a bratty child, Finis actually looked rather frightening. I remember Cardia’s story, and all the things this boy is capable of doing.

“WROOOOOOOOOOOOONG!” Nemo swoops in to my rescue, pointing at Finis dramatically. “Polly-chan has been confined to her room under myyyyyyyyy orders! She has a strict prescription of bed rest, and the ooooooooonly way I could allow her to attend teatime is if her doctor was also in attendance!”

Finis’ face grew even darker as his lips pursed in annoyance. “Teatime…? You let this buffoon turn our meeting into teatime?”

Nemo once again comes to my defense. “Aaaaaactually, the architect of this event is the Homuncardia-chan!”

He pauses, then wrinkles his nose as if deep in contemplation.

“Cardia-chan!” he repeats.

“Sister...?” Finis slowly turns his head, looking over his shoulder. “Is that true...?”

“Yes,” Cardia walks in with a warm smile. “It’s all set up now. I had Impey help, so it really will feel like a party.”

“Him too.....?!” If Finis’ glare gets any sharper, I’m afraid we’ll all start bleeding.

Cardia shakes her head. “I thought it would be best if he continued to work on the submarine design, as... uh...” She looks to the side, as though she can’t say these words with a single hint of seriousness while looking at us. “He was ‘threatened under pain of a most agonizing death’.”

A pair of glinting goggles and a low "fwee hee hee” reveals exactly who made that threat.

This makes Finis’ posture relax, and he even smirks. “Well, I suppose it can’t be helped if it was Sister... still, Nemo.”

Finis stares coldly at the taller man.

“I had excluded you from this for your own sake. When you cry in pain, thank me for my generosity.”

Before Nemo can give another grandiose statement, I reach over and take his hand in mine. He looks at me with a confused “Mrrph?” and I smile before looking back at Finis.

“Nemo and I are partners,” I state as flatly as I can, despite my heart screaming. “If you wish to discuss this voyage with me, then he needs to be there, too.”

“Partners?!” Finis mouth stretches into a smile. “Oh, you poor thing! Maybe this will be more fun than I had anticipated...” with a sweep of his cape, Finis turns and departs.

As Cardia watches him leave, she hears him say: “Did you bring plenty of sugar, sister?”

She just sighs. “What do you think?”

Judging from the smile creeping on her face, Finis must have shot her a dirty look.

Cardia looks over at the two of us before walking over.

“Nemo?” her voice is quiet.

Nemo responds with another confused “Mrrph???”

“Thank you!”

Her smile is so sweet, and the roses of her cheeks are blossoming.

“H-huh?” Nemo looks around before pointing to himself with a confused expression.

“For saying my name,” Cardia continues. “You said it once before, back in the prison. I wasn’t certain then, but... now I am. You thought about it, and you meant to say my name.”

Her smile is so dazzling that I can feel my cheeks flushing again. At this rate, I’ll be given mandatory bed rest again.

But it’s okay, because Nemo’s blushing too.

“It’s....” he trails off before striking another pose (almost ripping my arm out of its socket, why didn’t he let go of my hand--?!). When he speaks next, his voice is strange, almost like a salesman’s. I don’t understand it.

“It’s the job of a scientist to observe new evidence and edit hypotheses in the search for truth!”

And, just like that, it’s back to its normal, booming self.

“An artificial life, yeeeees, but an individual nonetheless, soooo--!”

He triumphantly swings his free arm out. “The only logical conclusion would be to address you by the name that Isaaaaaac-sensei gave you: Car-di-a--chan!”

Nemo... he and Cardia have been through a lot together. I’m glad that he’s seeing her as more than a doll, more than a golem.

I think of giving his hand a squeeze in gratitude, but I think better of it. Cardia’s smile, Cardia’s beautiful smile is more than enough thanks.

“Well, I’m going to make sure my brother doesn’t eat all of the sweets. I’ll see you both there!”

Is it a coincidence that the sun finishes setting as she leaves our sight?

“Well...” I look around the dim room. “I had better get dressed. Can’t attend tea in my robe.”

“Fwee hee hee...”

That mischievous laugh of his again.

“Need some assistance, my friiiiiiiiiend~?”

This time it’s my turn to let out a confused noise.

I had probably just misunderstood. I look up at him with a smile. “I’m fine, really. I...”

Why is he-- why is he smiling like that?

He gently puts his hand on my shoulder, tracing the shape with his thumb.

My mind begins to race as he tilts my chin up with a long index finger, drawing my eyes to his obscured ones.

“You’re still so flushed, I think I need to examiiiiiiiiiine you more closely...”

My eyes are wide. I can’t move. I want so badly to throw my arms around him, to wrap myself around him completely.

He looks over my face with an amused expression and leans towards me, his black-painted lips moving closer to mine. I can feel his breath on my skin, but it isn’t enough. I want to feel the hot metal of his teeth scrape my flesh, I want so much more--!

I part my lips and let out a longing sigh.

But then he stops.

He pulls back, pats me reassuringly on the shoulder, and gives me an ‘okay’ symbol.

“Mmm-hmm! Check up is green! You’re all set for teaaaaaaa!”

I’m standing there staring ahead blankly.

“Don’t keep us waiting, Polly-chaaaaan~!” Nemo gives a wave as he exits, letting the door close behind him with a resounding slam.

I realize that the ache in my body won’t be satisfied, so I quickly push such thoughts out of my head and begin to get dressed.

Yes, he was just worried about me. He just wanted to check, to see if I had cooled off. He just... went about it strangely, like he does sometimes. That’s all.

... He smelled like lavender, though.

Was it just my imagination?

-----

Nemo makes it about halfway down the hall before he slumps against one of the walls. A sound escapes his mouth, and he claps his hand over it to stop himself.

There are tears running down his cheeks, yes, but the sound that he’s muffling doesn’t match.

It’s laughter. Hysterical laughter, contained only by his own hand.

Now she knows! Now she knows a hint of that pain! That eternal, gnawing yearning for touch, for companionship--! This time, I was the one who took it away! Finally, I’m the one in control!

But his laughter dies down soon after those thoughts race through his mind. He removes his hand from his mouth to inhale air, and instead what comes out is a choked sob.

That expression on her face... such affection... for me! Nemo!

He reaches behind his goggles and rubs his eyes.

No one has looked at me like that since--

He finally collapses to his knees, his hair falling over his face like a funeral shroud.

“I’m sorry...” Nemo cries. “I’m so, so sorry...”

-----

I walk into Cardia’s room to find both her and Finis already seated next to each other. The two chairs across from them were likely meant for Nemo and I.

Nemo must not have arrived yet.

“Professor, would you like some tea?”

Looking at her, I realize why Impey is so in love. I smile in response. “Pauline.”

Cardia blinks a few times. “Excuse me?”

“‘Aronnax’ sounds a bit too formal for the two of us, doesn’t it?”

“Then, Pauline... please have a seat and join us,” says Cardia.

I sit down across from them and take a sip from the cup in front of me.

“It’s nice... is this Barbicane’s blend?” I ask.

“No,” I’m surprised that it’s Finis that speaks. “It’s from Ceylon. It’s just like the teatime we had back then, isn’t it, sister?”

“Impey said this was the best tea they have here. There was only a little,” says Cardia.

“Of course,” says Finis. “It’s because he left it for us.”

“Who?” I ask.

“Your so-called mysterious benefactor,” says Finis.

As if waiting for his cue (he very well might have been, knowing him) Nemo bursts into the room.

“Nemo, there you are! I guess you got tied up at the warehouse,” I say.

Ignoring the clinking of shaking porcelain, he bounds over and sits down next to me before immediately downing a cup.

“Mmm~ this refined flavor...” he slams the cup down onto his saucer. “MAGNIFICEEEEEEEEEEEEENT!!”

His voice sounds a touch hoarse. Just a touch, I’m a little surprised I even noticed it.

Finis looks up from his own teacup, a bored expression on his face.

“What were the terms that Aleister laid out for you?” asks Finis.

“Aleister? Ohh, Jiiiiiimmmy A. Aleisteeeeeeeeeer, my comrade-in-arms!"

“Try not to play the fool for once,” say Finis. “I know that Aleister is the one funding your little ‘voyage’.”

“Professor Aleister... was on the Nautilus too, wasn’t he?” I ask.

“That’s right,” says Finis. “That professor who you think saved your dream is just as rotten as the scientist sitting next to you.”

I frown and open my mouth to protest, but I feel Nemo gently thump my leg with his, and I quiet down.

“Hmmm....” Nemo speaks slowly. “Mooooost of us here were on the Nautilus, soooo... that ‘rottenness’ you speak of has suuurely spread to you!” He takes a moment to grin at Finis. “But that’s neither here nor theeeere... what I want to know is, why would it matter whether it was Aleister that sponsored us?”

“You idiot...” Finis mutters under his breath. “Have you not thought about it at all? The cost of research, building materials, a private island--? What could Aleister hope to gain from it?”

I look at Nemo, and he rests his chin on his hands, closing his eyes. “The conditions were anonymity, Fiiiiiinis.”

“Aleister may have helped me, but that doesn’t mean that he’s a good man,” says Finis. “Like I said before: he’s rotten, as snake-like as that tacky stick he carries. Weren’t you the one who said that you have to protect London, where your so-called precious friends live?” He scoffs, irritated that he even has to explain himself.

Nemo tilts his head curiously. “This isn’t like you, Fiiiiiinis. Why the worry?”

Finis blushes and looks away, pouting sullenly.

“M-My...”

Nemo and I lean in closer to the table.

“My sister.........”

Finis glances at Cardia and scowls.

“It would be troublesome if something happened that made her cry.”

Cardia tries to lock eyes with her brother, but he turns away and crosses his arms.

I suck in my breath. If Aleister really is as wicked as they are saying, the new technology of a submarine powerful enough to cross the ocean would be terrifying in his hands.

It doesn’t look like Nemo is going to speak.

I have to make a choice...

I suck in my breath and say: “The conditions are that we have to give him the submarine after its maiden voyage. That... and anonymity.”

Nemo responds to my betrayal about as eloquently as imagined, shrieking loud enough to make the teacups rattle.

“He didn’t tell us why. I promise,” I finish. “He just said that it would ‘bring a new dawn to Steel London’.”

“W-W-W-W-W-WHAT ARE YOU DOOOIIIINNNGGGG, ARONNAAAAAAAAAX?!?!” Nemo is wailing beside me.

“Nemo...” I pull out my handkerchief and lean over to wipe his cheek, but he jerks away with such force that he falls off the chair. I bend over to offer to help him up, but he just flails like a beetle stuck on his back.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” says Finis. “Aleister knew that he would be found out.”

He pauses to drop some sugar cubes into his teacup. As he watches them begin to melt, he looks up at us through half-lidded eyes and lets a smile stretch over his lips.

“After all, why else would he have leaked your identity to Victoria... your highness?”

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author-morgan · 4 years

Note

The reader being jealous yes pleaseee☺️

Here you are nonny, hope you don’t mind that I took things to the more lemony side. [also I assumed this one was tied to the ask “Omg plz write more about alexios”]

Alexios x fem!Reader

THE LAST TIME Aristophanes hosted a symposium, it ended in disaster —for you at least. One of the playwrights spilled wine all over your favorite dress and the courtesans refused to let Alexios be even after they’d seen him enter the party with you on his arm. You left the party upset and perhaps even mildly jealous. Tonight though, you’d take your own portion of sweet vengeance.

It’s a scarlet peplos with an untraditional neckline that dips down past your sternum and has golden chains to hold the sides together at your hips that you know will add fuel to the ongoing war of teasing you and Alexios have declared on one another. He steps into the room and swallows hard when he sees the dress. “You’re wearing that tonight?” Alexios asks, voice suddenly parched.

“I am,” you remark turning away from the looking glass, tossing two braided ropes of hair over your shoulder. “Do you like it?” The question is innocent enough, but the intentions behind it less so. He’s always been touchy and with an ensemble this revealing you know it will be a struggle for him.

His bottom lip is between his teeth as he takes in the divine sight before him. “Yeah,” Alexios rasps, rubbing the back of his neck and diverting his gaze to the bare stone wall, “that’s the problem.” Your lips kink as you pass him, motioning for him to follow along —it was rude to show up late after all.

Sokrates and Euripides are quick to draw Alexios into a conversation and Alkibiades takes to you. You’ve known Allie since the two of you were children, always getting into trouble and creating more headaches for Perikles. Alkibiades can tell by the look that you’re up to something.

“You look ravishing tonight,” he remarks with a teasing simper, eyes quickly darting down the length of your body. He’d entertained the thought of seducing you in the past, but he couldn’t —you’ve been a sister to him for so many years. “Is this because of what Damalia did at the last gathering?” He questions, one eyebrow raised.

“Am I that predictable?” You query in return. Allie laughs, handing you a cup of wine.

“Xanthippe mentioned she wanted to speak with you–” he takes a long drag from his own cup of wine and watches as your eyes flit over to Alexios “–don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on the competition, myself included.” You roll your eyes and give Allie a nod of thanks before joining Sokrates' wife in a private room off the courtyard.

Taking your leave of the gossiping ladies after some time, you spot Alexios lounging in a corner —tired of the conversation. You take a seat next to him on a floor cushion, swinging your legs across his lap deciding this is a good time to push the bounds of his patience. He knows the glint in your eyes all too well. Ignoring the look of warning, you lay a hand on his thigh, unwittingly rubbing circles over the taut muscle with your thumb. Your hand slides up his thigh a little more and a budding hint of satisfaction grows when he shifts, spreading his legs a fraction wider. “Behave,” Alexios hisses, gripping onto your wrist before your hand can move any farther.

Leaning in, you press your lips against the juncture of his jaw and ear. “Why don’t you make me?” You challenge, kissing his jaw.

His grip on your wrist tightens and his other hand moves to rest on your lower back. “Don’t tempt me, love,” Alexios responds his own gaze darkening. Taking a chance, you kiss him —knowing no one in the room would be paying attention to the two of you, tucked in a dim corner. You bite down on his bottom lip and devour the rough groan torn from his throat. You pull back with a smile —you’ve won this round.

Alexios grips onto your hand, practically dragging you out of the villa. He has you thrown over his shoulder by the time you reach your small home in Athens and a trice after that, he’s has you bare before him —the scarlet dress puddled around your ankles. Alexios surges forward, and takes your lips between his teeth, rolling his tongue over your bottom lip and then sucking. His hands slide down your back, cupping your bum for a moment before he hoists you into the air close to him until you’re sitting on his forearms with your legs nowhere to go but around his waist. Your hands bury themselves in his soft hair out of instinct.

You barely register it when your back hits the softness of a pile of pillows and Alexios settles himself on top of you. When you reach for the pin holding his exomis up, he swats your hand away and sits back on his haunches. He always takes a moment to marvel at the sight of your bare, splayed out beneath him, but then he doffs himself of the exomis and loincloth. A small, smug smirk tugs on the corner of his lips as he puts together the pieces of the charade you’d played all night. “You’re jealous,” he concludes.

The observations turn your cheeks a bright shade of red. “Am not,” you refute, too quickly and harshly to be true. He traces his fingertips over a line from your neck to navel, rolling his eyes. “Okay, fine,” you breathe, fighting the urge to cross your arms and pout. “I was jealous.”

Alexios nuzzles your neck, and you can feel the smile on his lips when he kisses the spot where your pulse is racing before drawing back to look at you. “You’ve nothing to worry about,” he whispers —bringing one of your hands to his chest, “my heart is yours and only yours.” But then he slides your hand down his abdomen, past his navel, and gives a wicked smirk when he cups his semi-hard cock and balls with your hand. “And so is this.”

He devours the soft laugh that leaves your lips at the statement. Your laugh turns into a sharp gasp when two fingers slide into your heat, curling deep within you. Alexios’ face contorts and breath catches when you wrap your hand around him —stroking until his cock is hard and pulsing within your hand. He rips your hand away and dips his head down, dragging the scruff of his chin over your breast before drawing a pebbled nipple between his teeth.

Your fingers push through his hair again, holding him against you as his fingers work you the way Hephaestus works hot steel. “Alexios, I need you,” you choke when he presses his thumb into your clit. The soft plea is a siren’s song to his ears. There’ll be many more opportunities for him to take his time, but right now you need him, badly.

Alexios’ fingers slip from your heat and he positions the head of his cock at your dripping slit, tracing over it with excruciating slowness until you’re covered in each other’s slick. He rests a finger on top of your clit, and then in a fluid motion, he buries himself to the hilt as he presses on your bundle of nerves. He relishes the noise it draws from your throat and the furrow of your brows —eyes half-lidded.

He braces his weight on his forearms and seeks your lips with his own. You stay unmoving for a while, your cunt fluttering around him until you see Alexios’ restraint is hanging by a thread. You grind your hips, a silent signal for him to move within you, and soon you’re a breathy, writhing mess beneath him as he thrusts —first slowly— until his movements increase in speed, a crescendo you can also feel in your body.

“Lexi,” you cry, hands digging into his biceps. He doesn’t cease his movements when he latches onto your breast, roughly biting and sucking until you’re whimpering soft cries and pleas and praises. His other hand caresses the curve of your hip and bum. Alexios' head falls forward and he can see his cock sliding in-and-out of your warmth, again and again, breasts bouncing with each thrust.

You open your legs wider, beckoning him deeper and feel yourself coming close to the edge of release, the coiling of energy deep within your core, and you reach down to guide his fingers to your clit. And when his fingers begin their familiar rhythm, his lips crash onto yours, urgent, and your walls clench around him, toes curling, and heels pressing into the pillows scattered around. Alexios groans into your mouth. He presses harder against your clit and swallows the hoarse moan that spills from your lips, his lips moving in tight strokes but his resolve begins to slip.

Alexios throws his head back, the tendons in his neck straining as his whole body shudders. He lazily thrusts into you, then stills, dropping back down to his forearms, sliding his softening cock out of your warmth —sweaty chests pressed together. You kiss the corner of his lips before he rolls onto his back, chest heaving and wearing a wide grin. “Are we even yet?” He asks with breathy laughter.

“Maybe,” you muse, propping your chin upon his chest, running your fingers over the dark smattering of his chest hair. Alexios’ hand slides down your back, giving your bum a rough squeeze followed by a soft swat. You laugh softly, pushing forward and placing a short kiss to the tip of his nose. Yours and Alexios’ games are fun but tiring after some time. “How about you make breakfast in the morning, and we’ll call it even?” You suggest.

He nods, smile never fading, and settles his lips on yours to seal the deal. Breaking apart with a contented sigh, Alexios slips one of his arms under you and drags you closer to him. He turns his head, lips ghosting across your forehead —his thumb rubbing soft lines over your shoulder blade. It’s in these moments you really feel like the luckiest woman in all Hellas.

[tagging my fellow Alexios lovers @nemo-my-name-forevermore @levikra @nonelleke and @wallsarecrumbling, if you want to be added to my tag list drog a message in my inbox!]

#Anonymous #Alexios #Alexios x Reader #Alexios Imagine #Alexios Fanfiction #Assassin's Creed Imagine #Assassin's Creed Fanfiction #Assassin's Creed Odyssey #AC: Odyssey #my writing #requested

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piracytheorist · 3 years

Text

A Kiss for Good Luck (10/15)

Summary: So this is the story of one born lucky, and one born unlucky. Fate will keep making them cross paths, but is it to bring them together, or to test them? Captain Swan AU.

Rating: T (make sure you’re okay with the warnings on AO3)

Word count for this chapter: 4.9k (50k in total) AO3

Read from the beginning: Tumblr | AO3

Chapter 10: Killian Jones, October 19th 2015 – May 19th 2016

Killian only holds back because Emma does; if she gave him any indication, he'd be really reaching into the kiss. She pulls back gently, her cheeks having gone slightly red.

He directs his eyes back into hers to distract himself from the fact that she either enjoyed the kiss a lot, or didn't enjoy it at all. He's about to smile at her when he sees Eloise from the corner of his eye and turns to her. She's looking at them with her typical cold expression that hides a ton of judgement underneath.

He swallows his sigh for Emma's sake; he's so tired of Eloise and her everything. He shrugs at her casually. Did she actually expect something from him?

And if she did, does he care anymore?

He turns back to Emma. “Don't worry,” he says, hoping Eloise's appearance didn't dampen the mood, and a thought jumps into words before he has the time to stop it. "Wanna add me on Facebook? It's Killian Jones, if, if you're interested...” To do what? Find something to tell her, find something! “We can share favourite songs."

Emma snorts, amused. "Like we're in high school?"

He doesn't have the best memories from high school, but he remembers enough about that awkwardness to know he feels similarly now. "I won't stalk you if you don't add me, just saying."

His stomach nearly does a flip when Emma smirks at him. She reaches into her belt bag and takes out her phone, which immediately slips from her fingers.

"Shit," she says. When she picks it up, they both can see that the screen cracked a bit. "Shit!"

"Oh. I feel as if I've caused that." As if he hasn't made things awkward enough.

Emma shakes her head. "It's replaceable. Don't worry. Killian Jones, you said?"

His chest feels warm at the sound of his full name in her voice. He should stop her; even in the slightest chance that she's actually interested, he's not the best person for any kind of connection.

But Emma is quick with her phone and says, "Friend request sent,” and he nearly leans down to kiss her again. “So we can chat about hot, new releases," she adds, still sounding amused.

He's about to ask for her last name. His battery is dying and he probably won't have the time to open the app before his phone turns off, and now that she did add him, his curiosity is skyrocketing.

"Hey," an older woman calls at Emma from the side. The woman looks at him with a slightly cautious glare, and looks a bit alike with Emma.

"Coming," Emma tells her. "So, we'll keep in touch," she tells him, actually pointing at him with her phone.

He just smiles in response, giving her a slight wave goodbye.

Watching them leave, his eye catches Eloise pouting, keeping her arms folded and staring at him from afar. He snorts and takes out his phone, impatient to accept Emma's request and find out her full name.

Instead of the Facebook app, he accidentally opens the camera, just as Klaus Meine walks right by him. He sees Killian, phone in hand, stops walking, and smiles.

"S-Selfie?" is all Killian can say, shocked.

He doesn't even see Eloise walk furiously towards him, his eyes fixed on the perfect selfie he got with the lead singer of the group they just watched perform.

"What was all that about?" Eloise says upon reaching him.

Killian looks at her, retort ready. "That was me taking a selfie with Klaus Fucking Meine."

Eloise scoffs. "You were kissing that bitch."

"Oh, come on,” he taunts her. “You're just jealous you didn't get a selfie."

"I'm serious," she says, her 's' whistling through her teeth.

"Serious? About what? We're just fucking, and you know that. You treat me like a piece of meat and you expect full commitment on my side? Maybe you're thinking of the wrong woman as a 'bitch'."

Eloise is speechless. And he is suddenly feeling powerful.

"You know what? Fuck that. We're done. You drive back to Brighton, I'm not gonna put up with a return trip if you're involved."

"And what are you gonna do?" she spits back at him.

"We're right in the center of town. I can afford to stay in a hotel for one night." He starts leaving.

"It's late! You'll get charged double!" She hasn't even taken a step towards him – she's waiting for him to go back to her.

She can wait all she wants.

He turns towards her, walking backwards. "I don't give a bloody damn," he tells her, then turns forward and leaves.

He leaves her.

How did he forget how calmer his nights are without her? The receptionist doesn't even charge him double – they'd just prepared a room that got cancelled last minute, and providing Killian leaves on time the next morning, it's just the standard price.

The room is nice, yet his mind is still going back to Eloise.

Damn, he left her. He made it.

And all because Emma was bold enough to kiss a damn perfect stranger.

He picks up his phone, now connected to a charger the hotel offered. Emma's friend request is right at the top of his notifications.

He smiles as he accepts.

His first day away from Eloise brings to the forefront how their relationship was way, way more than sex, only in a bad way. How he'd go to sleep some nights, nearly shaking with despair to go buy a bottle and with fear that Eloise wouldn't react well to him doing that. How that bled through to other parts about his life, how he had let her control it, and how she jumped at the chance to do so. He has a full day on his own to reflect on his thoughts and worries with a clear mind.

It ends on one conclusion; reconciling with family.

Nemo greets him back with open arms, and though Shakespeare keeps a collected face, he embraces Killian warmly too.

He spends the night there, falling asleep at the sight of his old drawings on the wall of his old bedroom. He hasn't picked up a pencil in some time...

Nemo doesn't ask anything the next morning. He's just happy Killian is back and willing to connect, and gets him to try playing chess with him, his new hobby. Killian doesn't even have the nerve to joke about Nemo's apparent mid-life crisis.

Once again, he's being more than Killian deserves. But maybe, once again, Killian can work towards being a man deserving of that love.

Before lunch, he's found himself with a picture of a forest landscape open on his phone, sketching from reference, when he receives a video call from Emma.

His heart speeds up. His hand is shaking slightly as he picks up the phone and looks at the screen, itching to tap “Accept”. He runs to the bathroom, making sure he's presentable, then back at his room, settles on his chair and accepts the call.

Her face fills the screen, and he gives her a cocky smile. She looks fresh from sleep; a different sight from the one in the concert, but what a sight still.

“Good morning,” he says. Is it? “Or afternoon? Have you gone back yet?”

“Yeah,” Emma says, smiling wide, “I arrived last night.”

“How was your trip?”

“A bit more tiring than I'm used to. But safe.”

“Than you're used to? You do it often?”

Emma explains about her extended family in Norway, her visits there a few times a year, and being used to long flights.

He finds himself feeling a little jealous. The only two times he travelled abroad brought years of bad fortune on him.

Emma definitely seems to hold something back, but he pays no mind; his closet has no fewer skeletons. They start chatting about music and end up talking about their plans for the holidays.

Time flies by and it's only when he hears Nemo call for lunch that he realizes they've been talking for an hour.

Bloody hell, he thinks, why do they have to eat so early?

He excuses himself, telling her he'll see her soon, and he can't help noticing how she seems to be holding back something again. He hopes he didn't disappoint her, and ends the call.

He looks at her name on his screen and he nearly taps it to call her again.

He locks his phone and puts it down. Wait a few days, give her time, he thinks.

He goes back to his apartment that same evening, and there's a box of the stuff he kept at Eloise's place. He checks the drawers he kept for her, and they're empty as well. Eloise's spare key is inside the box, with a note for him to not bother with his spare key of her place, as she'll be changing the locks.

He actually feels surprised. That's really mature of her, and he doesn't have to see her again.

Maybe that's what she wants too. Better for both of them.

Before he goes to sleep he starts looking for therapists, and though he doesn't contact anyone yet, he considers it a step towards the right direction. He'll get there.

He calls Emma three days later, and before he's even noticed it, they develop a schedule, chatting two times a week. He wishes to talk to her more often, but he still sees the reserved expression he knows too well on her face, and he knows she needs time. Of course, half the time it's her calling him, and she participates in conversation as much as he does.

She wants it, he knows. She's just taking it slow, and if he's honest, he needs slow too. What he had with Eloise may have led to him meeting Emma, but it still had an impact on him – and not that long after he lost the woman he loved, too.

The same afternoon he makes an appointment with a new therapist – and dreading it, considering the pile of information he'd have to give them – he gets a call from an unknown number.

“Hello?”

“Is this Killian Jones?”

“Who is it?”

“My name is George Rogers, I'm a private detective. Could you confirm your name, please?”

The detective is looking into Milah's murder. He's – lawfully – found suspicious contacts between Gold, his false witnesses and two now convicted criminals in the States, and he's opening her case. Killian's case too, considering he was assaulted as well.

Killian can barely speak. He'd lost all hope that Gold would receive any judgement from anyone but Killian himself. He thought he'd just have to live with the burden that Milah's murderer walks the streets free until he would grow desperate enough to get a gun and kill him himself.

He agrees to meet with the detective at his office and he looks at his phone when he hangs up, catching his shocked expression on the reflection, unable to even close his mouth.

When Killian opens the door to Rogers' office, he freezes as he sees the man.

Rogers just gives him a warm smile. “Mr. Jones.” Then he nods at Killian's stunned silence. “I know.”

The resemblance is uncanny; Rogers has a few grey streaks and more wrinkles, so Killian feels as if he's looking into what he'll look like about ten years from now. Physically, at least.

Rogers has acquired the testimony Killian gave when he was still at the hospital, and is trying to piece the crime together and prove the two convicted criminals are the two bodyguards Gold had hired that fateful day. With a bit of luck and skill, he can lead them to a confession. They're already in prison and it seems that Gold's finances haven't been going well lately. If he hasn't been keeping his false witnesses content, they may not be hard to persuade.

Rogers excuses himself for a moment, and Killian looks dumbfounded at the chessboard Rogers has set on his desk. Nemo didn't pick the habit up, but Killian did. He starts playing on his own, trying to distract himself from the pile of questions for Rogers and the anxiety that is building up. He doesn't want to let himself hope for Gold's arrest; he won't be able to deal with the result of the case going cold again.

“Do you play?” Rogers asks, nodding at the board.

Killian shrugs. “I started a few weeks ago. I play a bit online to...” He looks up at him, still a bit shocked at their physical resemblance. “You said you opened this case. Why?”

Rogers sits down at his desk. “It's my job. I was hired to look into it.”

“By whom?”

“Confidentiality, mate. I was looking Gold up, and after some digging I found out you had accused him for murder and assault.”

“I tried.”

Rogers shakes his head. “That bastard's a few million pounds away from starting a bloody mob. Hiring a few false witnesses is a piece of cake for him. Unfortunately for him, he can't cover all his sources and expenses. Questions start piling; where did he get all that money, and where are they going to? Especially now that his businesses are supposed to be failing.”

Rogers can't promise anything, but he looks determined to do his best. Killian doesn't allow himself any hope. He focuses on his life; going back to work with Shakespeare, finding a new AA group, starting therapy again, and talking to Emma.

He doesn't realize how much he's changing his own life until Emma points out that he told her once he's an early bird, yet there he is at two in the morning his time, chatting with her. And indeed, Shakespeare was willing to give him a late shift, but Killian didn't mind it that much either. He shifts the conversation to her choice of snack, making a sour face at the pop-tart in her hand.

“How can you eat that thing? It's like sugar-coated sugar,” he teases her.

Emma laughs, saying it's European candies that need a good dose of sugar instead.

With Christmas approaching, Rogers takes time off officially but keeps doing some work from home, and he calls Killian one evening to discuss some details about his testimony.

Killian finds a taxi fast, which manages to avoid all traffic and red lights and he arrives early at Rogers'. He's in a bathrobe and his hair is wet when he opens his door.

“You're early,” he says. “Come in.”

Killian steps in, immediately noticing the girl sitting cross-legged in front of a coffee table, playing chess.

“That's my daughter, Alice. Perhaps she can teach you a couple tricks,” Rogers says, smiling. “I'll be back in a minute.” He disappears behind a door.

“Wow,” Alice says, looking at him. “You do look like papa. He told me so but I didn't believe him.” She turns innocently to her chessboard.

A lump forms in Killian's throat; neither he nor Rogers commented much on their resemblance, but with another person so close to Rogers pointing it out, he can't help the possibilities that fill his thoughts. His deadbeat father had already left two children; what would one more before them change anything?

Could it really be?

“Can I ask you something?” Killian asks when Rogers is done with his questions. “How old are you?”

Rogers looks a bit taken aback. “Forty-five. Why?”

Thirteen years older than him. Which means his father would've been fourteen when Rogers was born. Unlikely, but still...

“Were you born here?”

Rogers sits back in his chair, his eyebrow raised. “Actually, I was born in Seattle, but my folks moved us back to Plymouth when I was five.” He pauses. “Are you curious...” he points between their faces.

Killian shrugs, but relaxes. The possibility of his father, at thirteen years old, travelling to Seattle and impregnating a woman are downright impossible.

“I was also curious, when I found your file and saw your picture. But I see a lot of people in my line of work, and trust me, there is a notable number of almost twins out there.”

Feeling comforted, but still vulnerable, Killian confesses. “It's just... my father was not much of a parent. I wouldn't put it past him to have another child he never mentioned to us.”

“I understand. I can assure you, though, it's just a coincidence.”

“It's also that... my mother's name was Alice.” He smiles at that, though.

“Oh. That is peculiar. But I simply liked the name for my daughter, and it's not like it's a super rare name.” He then turns to look at the clock as a thunder rumbles somewhere not too far. “I'll be making some dinner, would you like to stay?”

“No, it's alright.”

“You can either help, if you want, or keep Alice company as she teaches you tricks.” Rogers rubs at Alice's back, who has come to stand next to her father.

“How long has she been playing?”

“Since before I could read,” she says, proudly crossing her arms.

Killian smiles at her.

“For real,” Rogers says. “She was still in preschool when I started teaching her. That's more than six years of experience.”

“Which is why I always beat you,” Alice tells him.

Killian stands up. “Then I have no hope against you. Thanks for the offer, but you've already done enough.”

“Come on, mate, it's pouring rain outside.”

Killian smiles a little wider. “I have a good feeling about it.”

Indeed, the rain slows to a drizzle and the taxi he calls arrives quickly.

Most of his nights for the past four years have been plagued by the thought that he'd never see Gold pay for his crimes. He had a few nights of blissful calm, either brought by alcohol or the occasional good time the last couple months, but this is the first night that he feels at least relieved. Not confident or hopeful, yet; he knows better than that.

Emma confesses to him that she won't be spending Christmas with her extended family and that she lied to her friends so that they wouldn't cancel their plans for her sake.

He sneakily looks into flights for Boston while he's still on chat with Emma; a cold dread spreads in him when he's reminded of what both his trips to the States caused him.

He goes to bed very late that night, hating himself. Emma needs someone to spend the holidays with, she wants someone, and he's too afraid of his own superstitions to be that someone for her. And the worst part is, he used to be lucky. He knows what's it like to throw caution to the wind and still everything coming out fine. It's the first time in four years that he's started to feel that things have started going well. He's too afraid to push his luck.

He resorts to sending her a collection of his favourite seashells that he's gathered over the years as a gift. He's happy to hear it arrives in time, and he has a celebratory video chat with Emma on Christmas day, going along with her and her pop-tarts.

He regrets not going to Boston, or at least offering to help pay her tickets so she could come visit him, when it's New Years Eve and he has to show a happy face for his family while he knows Emma is all alone.

Just two hours before midnight his time, he takes Nemo's car and manages to find an open toy store. The owner says Killian is the luckiest bastard of the year, as he was about to close for the night. Killian buys a confetti cannon, thanks him, and wishes him a happy new year.

He allows himself exactly two hours of celebrating with his family before he goes to bed. He wakes up at half past four and sets everything up for a surprise celebration for Emma, checking at least three times that he's got his timezones right and it's still before midnight in Boston.

He starts calling her at quarter to five, but she's not online. Then again at ten to five. When she doesn't answer at five to five, he sends her an SMS to turn her WiFi on. As he waits for her to become active, he prepares to tease her for falling asleep on the one night most people want to stay up. He sets into a smug face and calls her immediately after her dot turns green.

His face falls when she accepts his call and he sees her tear-stained face, broken by a sorrowful expression.

“Oh, Swan,” he says.

Emma bursts into sobs. He waits for her, he doesn't give a damn if they miss the countdown, they can do one of their own. As long as Emma is alright.

As her sobs slow down, he feels tears in his own eyes. How he wishes he could reach over and hold her.

What a coward he was. When she wipes away her tears, he gives a silent promise to never let her experience anything like that again.

“Thank you,” Emma says.

Killian looks at the clock he's set up. “It's thirty seconds now. Do you want me to count with you?”

“Yes, please.”

He sees the smile on his preview turn more cheerful.

Emma looks at him, her smile widening as the seconds go down, contrasting her red and puffy eyes.

Killian pops the confetti cannon, but his eyes never leave her reflection. “Happy New Year!” he says.

“You stayed up,” she says.

“I... woke up,” he admits. “I mean, I went to sleep a bit early, and even I would say two is early for New Year's, so I snuck in a few hours of sleep before the alarm went off.”

Her face is so vulnerable, and the wish to hold her overwhelms him.

“Thank you. Thank you so much,” she says.

“I wouldn't forgive myself if I let you change the year alone.” Nor if I let it happen again. “Especially after you told me what you didn't tell your friends. Losing a bit of sleep is nothing.”

He has a whole array of snacks prepared for his late night with her, but he sets it aside when she says that all she has is the few pop-tarts left from Christmas.

She seems to love them so much. “Perhaps I chose the wrong flavor,” he says. “If I visit Boston one day you'll get me all kinds and I'll taste them all.”

He almost says 'when' instead of 'if'. But he has to be rational; financially he cannot yet support a trip, and he owes Emma an honest promise only when it's possible.

There's not much he's wanted from life; and by now he's learned to not push for more than he has. But is it too much to think that he's in love with her? That he's reminded what it feels like, to feel his heart full of love and not thirsty for revenge?

Is it too much to hope he can have something with her?

He makes himself some coffee, determined to stay with her until she falls asleep. Her eyes are drooping closed when he takes the phone to the window, to show her the lighter blue streak of the early sunrise. Her eyes are already closed when he sits back and sings Auld Lang Syne to her. When the song ends, he lets a few seconds go by before he calls her name once.

When there's no response, he ends the call and sends her “Happy new year, love,” in text.

The new year arrives promising. Only three days in, Rogers calls him to tell him one of Gold's fake witnesses confessed.

Killian needs to attend two sets of trials; one for Milah's murder, and one for the assault against him. Both are draining, but Nemo is beside him, and Killian bursts into tears when Gold gets life sentence.

He thinks about Milah's boy, Jack; he's barely fifteen years old, and he's dealing with what Killian had hoped he never would; seeing one – or in his case, probably both – of his parents as a monster. Gold had remarried; right after divorcing him, Belle, his now second ex-wife, was the one who had hired Rogers to look into Gold. She attested against Gold in the trial, but she seemed to care a lot for the boy.

Three weeks later he hears that Belle took custody of Jack. Killian is sure the boy hates him already; all he can do is hope his stepmother will care and provide for him.

His heart had stopped aching for revenge, but that doesn't mean it's not relieved that a murderer who chose to ruin him is now behind bars.

And with Emma, it soars. Through those emotionally taxing months, talking to her is his one constant.

Before either he or Emma realize it, their chats become a daily habit, even when there's little to say. Sometimes they just synchronize their Netflix to watch something together. Sometimes just each other's presence there on the phone screen is enough while doing housework.

Killian has completely switched to late shift at Shakespeare's boat rental, so that he can stay up late and talk with Emma after she's done with her shift.

For years, his mind was consumed with thoughts of revenge. His consciousness felt lighter, but his heart still felt empty after Gold was convicted. With Emma, he remembers how it feels like to care for someone that way, the way he did before Gold took that away from him.

Emma is in no way a replacement for Milah; but he knows it's time he moved on, and he can see in her someone he can do that with. Someone he can be happy with. Milah would want him to be happy, as he would want that for her.

Killian shares the story of his family slowly coming apart; his mother dying, his father leaving, and the final straw when his brother died. He tells her how he was nearly lost himself, how he has no idea where he'd be if Nemo hadn't, quite literally, saved him.

Emma shares her story of growing up an orphan, of being adopted and finally feeling she belonged, until her adopted mother was deported and she had to fend for herself, resorting to trusting the wrong person.

It's yet another time that Killian wishes he could reach into the screen and hold her. It could've been him, the one who trusted the wrong person and lost everything. And Emma is still standing on her feet.

He tells her about Eloise, she tells him about having done time – which makes her current standing even more admirable. Where would he be if his lawyer hadn't managed to get him on probation for breaking and entering on that stupid, desperate night?

He tells her about staying off of alcohol. How he'd thought he'd never stay clean for good. What he doesn't tell her is that it happened to be that he got the strength to keep up his sobriety just after he met her.

He loves her, he knows that. And he doesn't think lightly of their kiss at the concert, but he's not sure she's ready to hear she's had such a positive impact in his life.

And all because he was cheerful enough to hum a song and Emma happened to hear it.

With his emotions muddled by the trial, the stress, the anticipation for the results, and eventually the worry for Milah's son, he is surprised to realize it's late April and he can afford much, much more than a trip to Boston, thanks to the eighty thousand pounds he got from Gold as compensation for losing his hand.

He chooses to not wait too long for Emma. He wants her, and he wants to be good enough for her. Even though he'll need time for that, and he feels she's not ready for anything too quick either, he feels excited to meet her again.

When he tells her he's thinking of visiting her in May, she immediately offers her place for him to stay at.

His heart soars, he smiles widely – and Emma's connection cuts off.

When she comes back in, her smile reflects his. It's a relieving conversation that night, to tell each other that they want something more, but that they both need to take things slow. And one first visit can clear the path, so to speak.

He's still slightly nervous to get on the plane; he treated himself to a first class seat, however – not provoking karma by sneaking into someone else's unclaimed seats this time – and he's surprised to be awaken by a flight attendant when they've already landed at Logan Airport. There were apparently disturbances that delayed landing for an hour, and he slept peacefully through it all.

He turns on his phone and he feels a little relieved seeing Emma's message that she would have to be late. At least she wasn't left to wait for him.

He spots her as soon as the automatic doors leading out of arrivals open. She smiles and waves at him.

When they embrace, his chest feels lighter than it's felt in years. He pulls back and looks at her calm, happy face, then his gaze drops to her lips.

She closes her eyes when she pulls up to give him a peck.

(A/N: Finally, things start happening! And not just with them getting together at last!)

#Killian Jones #Captain Swan #captain swan ff #cs ff #ouat ff #akfgl #captain swan movie marathon #piracytheorist writes

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sunokasai · 6 years

Text

On the Crossroads of Love - Chapter 5

[backlog refilled with 1 chapter - big thank you @icaruswings87 for editing again <3]

Sometimes their trip does not go as planned. Sometimes the itinerary doesn’t matter, because sometimes the two women decide to stop somewhere in the middle of the road because one of them spots something interesting or beautiful. And sometimes it is Mari stopping without giving any warning while poor Riko is busy looking through all of her photos. They are on the way to Germany when this happens

Surprised and even scolding Mari a little for pulling such a stunt while she was handling her camera, Riko finds her ire fading quickly as she realizes why Mari had stopped the car. Interest flares inside of Riko in an instant as she and Mari stare at the ad for an Aquarium that’s not too far from their current location.

The Aquarium d'Amnéville.

A quick search via the internet fuels their interest even more, learning how much there is to discover, solidifies Mari’s decision to stop. Maybe, just maybe, this Aquarium can match the one in Awashima. Both girls doubt it, but it is worth a shot.

So, a couple minutes later they find themselves surrounded by massive tanks full of crystal blue water and dozens, if not hundreds, of different species that live within. It’s different than the one at home, but at least Awashima and this aquarium have something in common right from the start: both know how to present the jellyfish properly - because here they are also lit up by beautiful colors.

Eventually they come across a tank with some really special inhabitants: isopods. Riko chuckles as she takes them in, causing Mari to look at her with hint of confusion.

“You don’t remember?” Riko asks, prompting Mari to shake her head ‘no’. “When we were all visiting the aquarium on Awashima and how Hanamaru-chan fell in love with the isopods there? I bet she would like these here as well. There are so many.”

“Ah! I remember!” Mari exclaims excitedly. Yes, she does. And she also remembers how cute Hanamaru had looked, crouching down and talking with those little guys. So, Mari does the same, greeting the French isopods in the name of their Japanese friends in Awashima and the human that came to adore isopods. It is kind of adorable, Riko thinks.

“Riko‘cchi! Riko‘cchi! Look! Lots of Nemos!“ Mari, suddenly exclaims, getting up as she spots something else she deems interesting right across the room. She unceremoniously grabs Riko’s hand and drags her to the display. The movement is so sudden that Riko doesn’t even have time to process the hand in hers. Or to blush.

But once they are there, standing right before the glass, Riko perks an eyebrow up in confusion as she looks at Mari and then at the fish in front of them.

“Nemos?” Several orange-white striped fish are swimming around, some bigger than others. Riko has to admit that they look quite pretty, maybe cute even. “I am pretty sure they aren’t called ‘Nemos’. They have a different name..”

She is already leaning to the side to take a look at the species’ proper name, not noticing the look Mari throws at her: utter disbelief.

“See they are called- what?” Riko backs away with her head a little upon finally noticing Mari’s expression. There is a bad feeling starting to form in her stomach. Did she do something wrong?

“You really don’t know?” Mari asks, voice barely above a whisper.

“Know what?” Yeah, the knot in her stomach definitely gets worse.

“You have never seen the movie called ‘Finding Nemo’?”

Riko has to blink as she tries to process this information. All of this because of a movie? This is why Mari looks at her like this? While she is glad that it is just a movie and not something she has done, it is the fact that it is just a movie that makes her sigh.

“No? Obviously I didn’t.”

“We need to change that!” Mari declares, a sparkle in her eyes. “Which means we will have a movie night soon. The next hotel we are in I am going to look the movie up with your laptop and then we will watch it. Deal?”

Not knowing what all of this is about or how some fish are connected to a movie, Riko just nods. If this means she will get to spend more time with Mari then she’ll gladly agree. And a part of her hopes that they even get to cuddle a little while watching.

...And she can feel her cheeks getting hot at that thought.

“And while we are at it...” Mari takes her hand once again and drags her to the next glass pane, this time with a blue fish in it. “We can watch ‘Finding Dory’ right after.”

“Sure. We can do that. Sounds like fun.” The smile that Riko gets in return has her heart melt a little. It is scary how easily she can feel happy with Mari around, because whenever Mari smiles like that her heart makes a little jump and Riko is so much more at ease. Even if that smile is not directed at her.

“Okay, sweet. So… what else does this Aquarium have to offer?”

They walk around aimlessly but Riko notices quite fast that Mari seems to be looking for something specific, even if all the other stuff here manages to excite her. It shows in the way she looks around when they go to the next attraction.

And when they finally come across some sort of map Riko sees her hunch confirmed as Mari’s shoulders slump ever so slightly. Barely noticeable to any onlooker, but it is very much noticed by Riko.

“Something specific you are looking for?” She asks innocently, as if she doesn’t know the answer already.

“Yes...” Mari pouts a little. “I was hoping they’d have some seals here but they have none...”

“Seals?”

“Yes. They are like the cutest thing on this planet. If they look at you with their big round eyes and their chubby nose… how can you not just melt on the spot?”

Smiling fondly, Riko watches as Mari starts to daydream just a little about seals. Of all the animals, she would have never guessed it would be seals that managed to capture Mari’s heart. But it seems like they have and Riko feels kind of sorry that there are none of them here.

“If you are looking for seals you should visit the zoo that is right beside the aquarium.”

Riko and Mari turn around to look at another tourist right behind them who is waiting on the rest of his family to catch up with him after they had gotten distracted by some fish called green swordtail a couple meters away.

“Here, look.” The man comes over to them and shows them a brochure. And indeed, there is the aquarium and there is the zoo. He even shows them a timetable and Mari pokes Riko in her side and her arms and it is a bit annoying until Riko shoves Mari a little and looks at her, silently asking what is up.

“They have a seal show there.” Mari squeals. And Riko already knows what Mari’s next request will be.

“They were soooooo cute!” Mari, obviously, is super happy after they had just watched the seal show, always pointing out one of the animals. And at some point Mari had even started giving them names. “Though, I think Alfio is the cutest of them all.”

Riko hums and nods along. She is listening, she just doesn’t know who out of the dozens seals they had just seen was Alfio.

“Like, this cute little spot on his forehead.” Ah, that one. “I wish I could’ve pet him right there.”

Then Mari stops and looks at Riko, a very familiar spark in her eyes. One that Riko recognizes means trouble. And with Mari, there is no telling what kind of trouble she’s going to drag her into this time.

“Mari, no.” She has to stop it before it begins. Otherwise Mari will get a stupid ide-

“Do you think they’ll let me keep him? And all his brothers and sisters?”

“Mari, no. They won’t. And besides… where would you even keep them?”

“I am rich, I can probably turn a room in the Awashima Hotel to suit their needs.” Is the immediate retort.

And just as Riko wants to protest and say no, she thinks that Mari probably would be able to pull this of. Which doesn’t change the fact that Mari shouldn’t even think about it at all.

“They still belong to the zoo, Mari. We can’t just take them with us.” Riko tries to be reasonable.

“But I already gave them names matching their personalities.” Mari pouts. And she knows what effect that pout has on Riko.

Riko has to stay strong.

“I… Mari, we have no room in the car, and we certainly don’t have the time for you to organize something like that - it would take too long. And they still belong to the zoo.” And if rationale doesn’t work, Riko might as well try something else. “And imagine all the children who were just as excited to see them as you. They’d be sad if the seals were gone all of a sudden.”

Mari pouts more but she nods weakly. She gets it, of course. She just wishes she could spend some time with them, pet them even.

“You’re right. Sorry for bringing it up.” Mari turns away, running her hand through her hair. “Come on, let’s go and see the rest before we continue driving.”

“Mari...” Riko is fast to catch up with her companion when she sees it out of the corner of her eyes. The wheels start turning in her head as she gets an idea that might be ridiculous. But if it manages to cheer Mari back up it was worth it. So, she reaches for Mari’s arms and stops her, telling her to wait for her at that corner while she gets something.

And she really gets something. Because as soon as Riko returns to Mari’s side, she tells her to stick out her right arm. And as Mari turns around to do just that, her eyes widen.

Right there in front of her is Riko, tying a bunch of balloons in the shape of seals to her wrist. And before Mari can ask what this means, Riko pulls one of the balloons down, takes a pen out and draws a circle right on the seal’s forehead.

“There. Just like Alfio.” Riko smiles, looking at her work.

Mari lacks the words of a response as she just stares at the dozen balloons on her arm. She would have never expected something like this and is more than just surprised. She even sniffs a little before she gives Riko her brightest smile, pulling at Riko’s hand to bring her in for a hug. It is a little sudden but afterwards Riko relaxes into the hug little by little. It is Mari, after all. And a hug from Mari is the best response possible. Perhaps the best thing possible, ever. She smiles into her friend’s shoulder.

“Thank you, Riko’cchi.”

And as Riko just nods, she thinks she’d probably do anything for Mari.

#random writing #rikomari #riko sakurauchi #mari ohara #decision were made today that I will get screamed at for next week :]#[is totally innocent]

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kpopchangedme · 6 years

Text

L’Opéra: Think of Me [Part II]

Jinyoung is the new benefactor of the Opera; your lost love, the one you promised yourself to when you were only fifteen. How can you face him again, after renouncing to his everything years ago?

Moodboard by yours truly

Protagonists: A stuttering Park Jinyoung - You - Im Jaebum

Genre: SFW - Romance - Drama - Love Triangle - Childhood Friends - 1890s!AU

Words: 6k

Snippet: “There needs to be a flaw, a tiny blemish, to make you appreciate a perfect piece. Jinyoung is like that to you; a work of art rendered perfect by his tiniest imperfection.”

Lyz’ note: This new chapter is mainly for Jinyoung and y/n, torn between past and present… Poor Jaebum has to listen to all this through the walls. Sorry babe, you’ll get the third chapter!

L’Opéra [Mini Masterlist]

Ethereal.

That’s you, really you. Jinyoung watches you roam the stage, in trance. He can’t believe you’re here after all these years, in front of him. You were right earlier, Jinyoung is still a child. He’d wish to be more mature, facing you again, but he’s the same. Your simple presence is intoxicating. He panicked. He wanted to be controlled, but he was spiteful. He regrets it, but he was never over losing you.

It’s infuriating to find out that he’s still hopelessly yours, even after all this time.

His eyes follow your movements; he listens to your voice. You are marvellous, so talented he can’t believe that until yesterday, you were just a simple dancer. How is it even possible? Even as a child, you excelled at singing. You both used to spend summer afternoons harmonizing together with the sound of your father’s violin. Now it’s been years since Jinyoung last sang. He found another way to cope with his disorder, his disability, like his family used to call it. Perhaps, in the end, Jinyoung’s only illness was his late father; he seems to be doing perfectly now that he’s gone. That is, well, until he met you again.

He felt it as soon as you talked back at him; that nervous discomfort. His speech abilities betraying him, just like his own heartbeat and his confidence falling. However, none of this matters now. Now you are here, within his reach and he finds himself ready to forgive all those years of darkness in a second. It doesn’t matter why you disappear after your father’s death after you promised.

Now he’ll be yours and you’ll be his, all over again. Jinyoung needs you more than his pride or titles; he’ll be shameless and needy, he doesn’t care. He simply won’t let you vanish another time.

___

Most children dream of getting home for the summer, but not him. To him, boarding school is a safe haven. He’d take on over 100 bullies if it meant he’d be away from home for a whole year. Summers are hot and heavy, even gloomier than the dark winters to Jinyoung.

That’s why he’s hiding, sitting on a rock under a big oak tree, a mile from his vacation home. He likes to come here, skip rocks on the lake, do nothing or read a book; be away from his father’s scrutiny. This lake is still on his family’s domain, most of the things in Jinyoung’s life belong to his last name; his hopes, dreams and future. None of it is his. Even at twelve, he knows that too well, he’s aware. It weighs on him like his white shirt, rendered heavy with humidity. He kicks a pebble and watches it roll on the lakeshore; boring, but funnier than being home.

That’s the moment he sees you for the first time; the last Sunday of May, 1886, around noon. You are running on the pebbles, freely, seemingly not caring if you sprain one of your ankles by falling. For the first time, the world stops turning for Jinyoung. Your hair is flying messily around your face, fighting the wind coming from the lake; you are breathtaking. A man is observing you from afar, he screams something and you go back to him. You don’t see the dark-haired boy around your age, stunned under the oak tree, don’t care for him. He, however, finds himself caring.

That summer won’t be like others; Jinyoung discovers that on that last Sunday of May.

The day after, he starts going back there with the only intent of seeing you again. Nobody has second thoughts when he asks about who’s living in the small cottage by the lake. They don’t care about his curious interest and they answer in hushed tones for him to stop. It makes people uncomfortable when Jinyoung speaks to them, that’s why he usually avoids it. He learns that you are the daughter of the musician his father favourites, enough to take him away from Paris for the summer. It’s weird because he already knew Monsieur Daae but he has never met you. You are motherless, his servants mutter that with judgment, apparently forgetting Jinyoung’s just the same. Except you are not like him; you seem happier, warmer.

The next day, he goes to that oak tree again and also the day after that.

He takes the habit of observing you in the afternoon; hiding under the trees on the outskirts of the woods, where they meet the pebbles and water. He discovers in delight that you often sit in the yard of the cottage when the weather is forgiving. You sit there to sing, draw or catch butterflies. On one of those afternoons, you surprise him when he’s not paying attention.

He’s resting at his usual spot, reading a book about adventure, but he raises his eyes, feeling watched.

That day, your hair is braided, resting on one of your shoulders and you tilt your head with curiosity as his eyes go wide of shock. He doesn’t know how long you’ve been there; observing him. You are sitting on the big rock he usually likes to sit on, knees pulled under your chin. Like that, you resemble the main mademoiselle in a feminine portrait painted by Édouard Manet. Forever frozen still, created solely to exist in this natural specific scenery. Jinyoung gulps, so nervous he can barely remember to breathe.

“Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea…” You wrinkle your nose pensively at the title of the book he’s holding. “That sounds scary!”

Jinyoung bites his cheek, watching you blink, awaiting an answer that could never come. He wishes he could give you one, but you’d be uncomfortable and he’s too scared. Jinyoung is a coward.

“You are the young master.” You state it like you don’t care at all like it’s the most boring thing you could ever say. He feels his heart rate accelerates, just as the first time he saw you play, a few days ago. “You don’t want to talk to me…” Saying this you look away briefly, in direction of your cottage and Jinyoung’s heart sinks. You’re going to go, you’re going to leave and never address him again, because of his family name and rank. Because he can’t speak. “It’s alright, I don’t care. This is so boring here, I’m all alone. I’m going to talk to you anyway…” You sigh, throwing your head back to look at the clouds. “You can ignore me if that’s what you want. My help does it all the time… I can talk to myself for hours...”

Jinyoung shakes his head and you frown.

“Are you a mute then?” You pout and he opens his mouth to deny it, but ends up lacking the will. “It’s strange… You don’t look like one.”

There’s a voiceless boy in his special classes and Jinyoung never found he looked any special. He could explain that to you but he won’t. It would be a very long and painful sentence.

“I’m y/n, my father is a violinist.” He nods; he knows that already. “I love music, what do you love, young master?” After a few seconds of waiting, you roll your eyes back and he drops his to the tips of his boots, scared you’ll leave if he doesn’t even attempt to reply.

“Bb-bb–bb-b” Jinyoung bites his lower lip out of frustration, but you clap your hands, excited by his laughable noises.

“So you talk!” You giggle happily, not at him. Jinyoung stares at you in awe. Nobody ever told him he could do that before; they usually understand very fast it’s quite the opposite. “You love… books?”

“Yes… Bb-books.” His voice is small, but a bit less strained; although he’d want to be louder. Today, he forgets to hate the sound of his stutter, because you laugh again and that… That is the single most agreeable and delicate sound he ever heard.

“What’s your name, young master?”

“JJ-Jinyoung” He hates his name.

“Nice to meet you, Jinyoung!” His eyebrows shoot up when you call him. Not stutter, retarded, not by his full title of nobility, by his simple name. He relaxes a bit. “What’s your book about?”

“Voyages extraordinaire of the Ca-C-Captain Nemo!” Jinyoung spurts out with excitement and you nod along, listening. “An underwater ad-d-d-dd-dventure–”

“Underwater?” You pause to think for a few seconds and he notes that you haven’t tried to finish his words for him, something he finds even more frustrating. “How? Can Captain Nemo breathe underwater?”

He shakes his head, happier than he’s been in a while. “He has a b-b-b-b-oat–” By habit, he hides his struggle with a fake cough, but you wait for him to go on, so he does: “A sub-b-bb–” He stops again with a frown, trying to come up with an easier word that you would understand. “Like a small house t-th-that goes un-un-n-under, it a-a-actually exists!” He shuts his eyes in irritation; he never thought talking could get any harder.

“Fantastic!” You clap your hands, ignoring his chagrin, acting like you haven’t noticed his speech disorder. “Then does this mean we could go on an underwater adventure, someday?” Or perhaps you simply don’t care for it, he inhales sharply.

“You an-nd I?” Jinyoung feels himself blushing harder, of embarrassment and something else entierly.

___

Everyone congratulates you as you walk backstage, but you only have a single wish: hiding. The performance was well received and you did great, but you don’t really feel like running into him again.

Of all the Vicomtes and nobles of Paris, of France; Jinyoung had to be the one. Why him? Sure, you know very well he always liked the arts, but what are the odds? Did his father put him up to this? Surely not, you respected your end of the bargain and disappeared, he wouldn’t throw Jinyoung after you. Not after five years of hiding and healing. The new mécène… Fine, if what Jinyoung said earlier is true; it’s a coincidence, the worst one.

When you finally reach your room, you let the wood of your door cool your burning forehead. Away from the applause, it will be easier to think. Something you lacked time for before going on stage.

“Are you ill? Are you feeling alright?”

You nearly fall when backing into the corner, tripping on the ballet shoes you abandoned on the floor yesterday. He rises to his feet as you trip, even though he’s on the other side of the room. He seems even paler, surreal and gorgeous than earlier, but it might just be the lesser amount of candles lighting in the room. What is he doing here?

“Jinyoung” You groan, clutching your heart. “You scared me!”

“You are very red.” Crossing the distance you put between you, he brings his hand to your burning forehead. His fingers feel like ice against your skin and you shiver at the contact.

“You shouldn’t be here!” You push his hand away, watching his face harden.

“Why?” He clenches his jaw, glaring at you. “Were you planning on hiding forever?” You look away, not wanting to know if he's asking about tonight or for the rest of your life.

“This is my room, Jinyoung… You are being very inappropriate.” Loosely, you gesture your tiny bed in a corner and he pales, even more, taking a step back to put a comfortable space between your bodies.

“You never used to care about social conventions.”

“Well, you weren’t the benefactor of the place where I live and work.”

___

Jaebum’s boiling. You basically insinuated the rich prick should leave and he didn’t budge. Even he knows that. He, who lives alone in between brick walls. He, whose only socialization was getting hit with a stick. Jaebum leans in closer to the one-way mirror, observing the scene in your room and wondering if there’s something he can do.

“Does it matter?” The Vicomte sighs like you’re most annoying to him. “Why should we care about what they think of us?” He takes a step towards you, but you get away, walking to the other side of the room. You stop in front of your mirror where Jaebum is hiding and he inhales sharply of relief at your proximity. He can easily intervene if the noble foozler tries something indecent.

“Leave, don’t tell your father you saw me.”

“W-what?” The man, who was walking closer, stops in his tracks.

“I don’t need the trouble!” Facing the glass, you hide your face in your hands, tired.

“D-dd-did he say something?” The asshole closes his eyes, bringing a clenched fist in front of his mouth. “Is this why you disap-pp-p–” He fakes a couch and Jaebum’s eyebrows shoot up. The conceit prick doesn’t know how to properly talk, that’s somewhat surprising. When you open your eyes, you look straight at Jaebum, although he knows you can’t see him. Your expression softens and you turn around to face the Vicomte.

“Do you want to sing it, Jinyoung?” Jaebum can only see your profile, but your lips curl upwards like you’re teasing the stranger and it’s his turn to frown in frustration.

“No.” The man bites his lips, perhaps out of nervousness. “Is it because of h-him? That you’re here?”

Jaebum is curious now, he wants to know too. Who is this man’s father, how does he know you and is this why… Why you came to him? He waits for a long moment with the Vicomte for your answer, but it never comes.

“Y/n–” The man reaches for your arms and you let him do it, let him pull you closer. “He’s gone now, haven’t you notice the title?” He leans in, way too close, and Jaebum narrows his eyes, angry. “I’m the Vicomte de Chagny; I do what I want, buy what I don’t need, love who I lov–”

“Must be real nice, Jinyoung.” You wiggle out of his arms and his face falls as you sit on the corner of your desk.

“No, it’s not. Not without you!” He throws his hands to the sides, gesturing to everything around you both. “Don’t you see what this is?”

“Your Opéra?” You ask bitterly and Jaebum hums, disapproving. Everything here should be considered his.

“Destiny? Fate?” You roll your eyes, but the Vicomte goes on, unbothered. “I didn’t know you were living here, but here we are! I found you and I’m not losing you again! Y/n you were amazing tonight! You were born to sing, you’ll be the star of my Opéra! My muse! My...”

This time Jaebum scowls out loud, not caring if any of you hear. You’ve been his muse for five years. This man cannot come in here and claim you!

“What, Jinyoung?” You cross your arms over your chest, although your eyes flutter to the mirror again.

“My… My–” The rich prick tilts his head, struggling. When he continues, his voice is nothing but a murmur. “We promised years ago…” Jaebum’s heart sinks. A promise. It’s not fair, he never stood a chance. Jaebum could promise you the moon, write a thousand symphonies in your name and you’d still choose this rich and handsome guy over him.

“We can’t. We were child–”

“The world is changing!” The man cuts you off, not letting you reject him. “Nobody cares about ranks now; this is almost the 20th century!”

“It’s not that–”

“We could run away, go to a colony… Africa?” He shrugs. “My uncle is the Gouverneur du Sénégal! If you say so if you ask me to, we’ll go! Away from these stuck up Parisians! I’ve already told you all that!”

Jaebum freezes. Leave? You can’t leave him. Even if this man belongs to your past, what gives him the right to come into your lives and tear you two apart? Why can that man suddenly talk again? Jaebum wishes for him to choke on his words, on that old promise, whatever it might be.

“Jinyoung, it’s not that, it’s not them!”

“What? Is…” He pauses, inhaling shortly. “Is there s-s-so-someone else?”

The time seems to stop in the tiny room and you bury your face in your hands, defeated. Jaebum wants to burst in there, push that shady aristocrat away from you, but he doesn’t. He watches with Jinyoung as you hide away the answer in your eyes; wait expectantly for you to tell the other he’s here, even if you don’t know that. Here with you all the time; your angel. He grimaces at the thought of the name you gave him, but you can’t leave him all alone. Not for a guy who already has everything, who was born with a golden spoon in his mouth. Jaebum can't be alone again.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

___

Three small knocks on the door, interrupt your confrontation with Jinyoung. You uncover your face, panicked. You know exactly what people will think if they find you alone with the new patron of the Opéra. In your room. You glare at the Vicomte in front of you, he has nothing to lose and he answers with an apologetic shrug. A woman only has her reputation, especially one with no money nor title, but it’s too late now.

“Who’s there?”

“It’s me, chérie.” Madame Giry answers from behind the door and you sigh, relieved. “I am accompanied by Messieurs Firmin et André, may we come in? Are you decent, child?”

Jinyoung moves to your desk, as far away as possible from your bed and sits. When you open the door, M. Firmin storms in clapping excitedly.

“Une étoile est née!” He sing-songs, almost bouncing in the room. “Grandiose. Didn’t I tell you Gilles? Didn’t I tell you we should put our trust in Mademoiselle Daae?!” His business partner walks in, wincing at his blatant lie. He’s the first one to notice the aristocrat trying to sit naturally on your tiny wooden chair and he freezes.

“Ah–” M. André opens his mouth, gasping and looks around the room to see if someone else is standing there. Realizing you two were alone, he recovers swiftly, clearing his throat. “Félicitations Mademoiselle, I see you’ve met our new mécène.” Since he doesn’t want to insinuate anything shady, he adds: “We were looking for you everywhere, Vicomte.” Jinyoung tilts his head, doubtful. They probably diligently avoided him after losing his primadonna right before the representation. “Did you enjoy this… May I say so myself; perfect performance?”

“Very much Monsieur, I believe the main soprano made quite an impression as Hannibal’s first love, Elissa.” You bow shyly at Jinyoung’s compliment and meet Madame Giry’s scary glare. She’s clearly angry you let a man into your room. You mentally curse her daughter Meg; after all, she’s the one who brought him here in the first place.

“Oh! Let me introduce you! Mille excuses!” M. Firmin nods apologetically in her direction, wrongly interpreting her evident displeasure. “Vicomte, this is our precious Madame Giry, in charge of our famous corps de ballet!”

At that Jinyoung gets up to graciously bow to the middle-aged woman. “Enchanted, madame. I am the Vicomte de Changy, new mécène.”

“De Chagny?” She glances at you, her attitude completely shifting. She’s the one who took you in after your father’s death when you were only fifteen and broken. The first motherly figure you ever had; she knows.

“Yes.” Jinyoung lips tighten, apprehensive. “Were you acquainted with my late father?”

“Um– No, I’ve never had the chance of meeting him, my apologies sir.” As if to shield you, she puts a hand on your back, a gesture Jinyoung evidently doesn’t miss. “I believe we should let our main lady rest for the night, y/n had a lot to do in the last few days!” You look at her, grateful. You really want to be left alone right now.

“Oh that’s–” M. Firmin clears his throat, clearly hating to go against the woman’s words. “There was a little supper organized be–”

“Mademoiselle Daae and I are going out to eat.” Jinyoung offers a smug smile to his small audience. “We were discussing this very matter together.” Your jaw drops at that. He said a number of things when you were alone, but he never mentioned sharing a meal tonight. Jinyoung used to be a very bad liar, simply the worst; hesitations and nervousness rendering his speech incomprehensible.

“Alone?” M. André pauses, disapproving, and you hope he’ll prohibit it from happening, even though he has the authority and charisma of a trout. “Wouldn’t it be better if–”

“Gilles, quel rabat joie!” M. Firmin cuts him off. “Surely that’s not what Monsieur meant–”

“Yes. Alone.” Jinyoung seems to savour his control for a few seconds before turning to face you. “Mademoiselle, I’ll wait outside for you to change out of your costume…” He smirks, eyes playful, voluntarily ignoring the indignation his words are provoking. “There’s a charming and simple place near the Opéra, I think you will like it!”

“Pardo–”

He insists with an intended raised eyebrow, interrupting your protests. “We’ll continue our reminiscence of old times there.”

Although the room is full, nobody opposes him. You clench your teeth, holding back hurtful words. He’s behaving like the very people he despised; not taking “no” as an answer. But you’re not fifteen anymore and you know your place. Another Vicomte de Chagny made sure of that before him. There’s nothing more to say, so you keep your tongue to yourself.

“Old times?” M. André repeats, suddenly a bit warmer to the idea.

“Of course, we are already quite familiar; we used to spend our young summers together. Our families were close. We tragically lost touch and have a lot of catching up to do.” Jinyoung offers a sweet smile, but you turn away, wishing he wouldn’t publicly bring up your past friendship. There’s a collective sigh of relief in the room and just as you begin to fear what he might add next, he chuckles and goes on: “You see, Mademoiselle Daae is dear to me… Like Elissa is to Hannibal!”

“Oh! That’s marvellous!” M. Firmin claps his business partner’s shoulder, ecstatic. “Just like tonight’s representation then, a love story!”

You exchange a look with Madame Giry, defeated. A love story where Elissa ends up killing herself to avoid a forced wedding. Jinyoung offers you a perfectly warm smile as he opens the door to get out, but you only feel cold and dry.

___

“My hand?” You blink, stunned by Jinyoung’s question but decide to laugh it off. You hope the sound will hide your discomfort at the warmth his words spread in your body. “Why would you want it?” Jinyoung eyes widen, filled with sudden incertitude, but he should already know how you feel. Your question is clearly a lie, a teasing joke; told to cover the fact that you can’t answer his without changing your lives forever.

He hums before attempting to talk, closing his eyes for the battle. “I-I-I-I–” He grunts, when his larynx betrays him and the corners of your lips curl upward.

To you, his stutter is one of the things that make Jinyoung amazing.

There needs to be a flaw, a tiny blemish, to make you appreciate a perfect piece. This is something your father often says. Jinyoung is like that to you; a work of art rendered perfect by his tiniest imperfection.

You lean in against the big oak, observing his tormented expression and wondering if you should end his suffering. You wait a while longer because he hates when people steal his words, you know that. You know everything Jinyoung loves and everything he doesn’t.

“I’m just asking f-f-f-f-or–” He sighs in frustration. He hasn’t stutter that much in almost two years, it must be his nerves.

“Do you want to sing it?” You laugh lightly; it’s something that helps him when it won’t come out. Although, secretly, there’s nothing you love more than the sound of his singing voice. “Or play charades?” You lick your lips, watching his expression turn darker. He doesn’t get how much you love this sort of thing. It would be perfect for a love confession, you blush harder. “We used to do this, younger… When you didn’t want to speak…” Jinyoung frowns ever more and you bite the interior of your cheek to keep from smiling at his irritation. “You want my hand… For?”

Say it. Ask me.

Jinyoung stays desperately silent, perhaps he’s given up.

“Are you alright, Jinyoung-ie?” You ask a bit scared that your teasing made him change his mind. “It doesn’t matter you know–” But it does. “You can ask me tomorrow…” But he can’t.

“You know I’m leaving tomorrow.” When he finally talks again, it’s without halting and you smile, satisfied.

“See? It’s better now; you don’t have to be so nervous.”

Ask me. Tell me.

“We both are f-f-fi-fifteen, now–” You tilt your head to the side, unsure why he’s using a long sentence to mention your age. You both already are well aware you aren’t children anymore. “I want to tell you how I f-f-feel–”

Before he can continue, your maid yells your name from the cottage. You thought you’d have at least an hour more before she’d come looking for you after her afternoon nap. Without thinking twice, you grab Jinyoung’s hand and sink deeper into the woods. You run without intent and he follows, intertwining his fingers with yours. He probably doesn’t know why you must hide from Marie.

Before this summer, nobody ever asked you questions about your relationship with Jinyoung, but in June, this changed. Marie got curious, started to talk about how wholly inappropriate it was to see a man alone at your age, one with a name at that. At first, you brushed it off, ignored her, but she was right: Jinyoung turned into a man. You weren’t twelve anymore and if the time you used to spend together was innocent, this summer your cheeks were burning every time he looked at you. Every time he touched you, your skin went ablaze. After that, Marie started to question your outings, asking you where you’ve been and with whom. Then it turned worse, she’d yell, threatened you to tell his family about your idyll and say they’d send him away.

This summer, you learned you had something to lose. She’s still calling your name from afar when you stop running, turning around to face him in panic.

“We don’t have time, I’m sorry I teased you!” Jinyoung twitches as you release his hand and reach for the blue ribbon tying your hair in a tight bun.

It’s the one you lost your first summer together. The wind stole it when you were on one of your epic adventures on the lake and Jinyoung jumped from the rowboat to get it back. You didn’t know how to swim, so you kept yelling scared to death. He swam back just fine, holding the inexpensive fabric above his head like the most expensive trophies. He was clueless as to why you were so angry at him back then.

Jinyoung lips part slightly when he sees your flocks of hair fall around your face and if you weren’t already tomato red, you’d blush even more. This doesn’t feel like being alone with a friend, Jinyoung really is a man now. He reaches for a strand of your hair, but you catch his fingers before he can touch one.

“I’ll give you this.” You say those words so softly that he doesn’t react and you wonder if he heard them. He simply watches as you tie your hands together with your ribbon. The task proves to be harder than you thought with a single hand; no wonder people usually need a witness. Jinyoung clears his throat, embarrassed as he finally catches on what you are doing. Handfast; the betrothal of the pagans and the wanderers. Your heart beats even faster when you notice he’s turning red, blushing just like you.

“Jinyoung, I–” You pause to sigh and smile, wishing he’d say something, anything, or at least try. Isn’t he the one who wanted to do this? Isn’t the man supposed to confess? “I can’t give you much, but know that my heart is yours. It has been for years now, I love you… too.” He stays desperately silent so you have to go on: “Even when you are far, I only see you, I only think of you. Father and I, we’ll always be…” You push air out of your chest to say the rest of the sentence. Looking at your tied hands as a wedding promise for courage. “–obliged to your family…” It’s true, there’s no point denying it. His father’s protection is the reason your father could go to the Conservatoire de Paris. His family’s money is the only reason your father makes a living with his music.

“Don’t say that.” Jinyoung grimaces, wrinkling his nose. He hates when you bring it up. He often says that he would prefer being born poor rather than to have his title. It makes you laugh; Jinyoung doesn’t truly know what cold is, he doesn’t know hunger either. “I don’t want you to say it’s because of that.”

“I’m not.” You giggle; relieved he actually found his voice back. “But I also know who you are and where you stand. We’re not the same.” You both know that, so you’re surprised when he clenches his jaw, angry.

“Do not talk like him!” He stops and lowers his voice, probably worried that Marie will find you two. She’d never come into the woods, you’re sure of that, but you let him get closer. You can almost feel the warmth coming from his body now and you shiver. The air is starting to cool these days, September is really near now and you’ll lose him for another 8 months.

“It doesn’t matter what they think. I promise we’ll be together; if you just say yes then we’ll be together.” Weren’t you the one who made the promise first? You smile since he doesn’t seem to realize that. “Hell, we can even run away together!” You both laugh when the unfamiliar curse leaves his mouth. “Nothing matters if you are with me, we can even leave the old country if you want to! If you wish, I’ll ask your father after boarding school, he likes me. I’ll find a way to convince mine! I’ll–”

“Jinyoung.” You interrupt his confession, the one you were dying to hear earlier, he’s almost breathless. Lungs neglected by the fervour of his words, spoken too fast, something very unusual of him.

“What?” He hesitates, scared of what you might say. Why is he so afraid, didn’t you already say you’ll be his?

“You haven’t stuttered in over a minute.” His eyes round with surprise and you smile, proud of him. Jinyoung beams, his tongue darts through his lips and they catch you attention.

Right here, hidden behind a tree, in the woods where you used to fight dragons together you start to wonder. Right now, you wonder what these lips might feel like pressed on yours; wonder if you would survive something as intense, so close yet so far. Jinyoung’s expression turns serious when you lean in and close your eyes, you can almost already taste his breath. He’s the one who crosses the last line, leaving the shreds of what was left of your childhood and innocence behind. His nose brushes your cheek as his lips find yours, delicately, sweetly. The touch is so pure, so delicious; it stops time.

___

When the small crowd finally leaves your room, you sigh in relief at the return of your intimacy. Jinyoung is back. Even crazier and even more passionate than before, but you’ve grown. You’ve changed and he doesn’t seem to want to realize that. You walk behind your folded screen to slip off your Elissa costume; it takes you a moment to get rid of the horrible corset. When you are left in only your underskirt, at last, you squeal in triumph. One small battle won, now you shall prepare for the war. You put one of your comfortable dresses on, something drab like everything else you own. Something that will clash with Jinyoung’s lavish appearance. You freeze thinking that; you really don’t want to eat with him right now. You want to think about what his return means, what his father's death means.

The Voice resonates in your room making you jump. “You were amazing tonight. I’d anticipate nothing less from my special protégée.” You had forgotten everything about the performance, but not about your angel of music.

“Thank you…” You bite your lips, walking up to the mirror to take your costume jewelry off now that you are fully clothed. Doing so, you fight the idea of a man observing you, not Jinyoung, but the owner of the Voice.

“Are you going to leave?” It’s sorrowful when it rings again and your freeze, holding one of the jewel flowers from your hair. Somehow guiltily, you lower your gaze to the tip of your shoes.

“I–” You clear your throat. Maybe this is how lost Jinyoung used to feel when his words didn’t come out. “I’ll be back after we have supper…”

“Ok… I… I’ll wait…” It pauses and you stare at yourself in the mirror, wondering if you really have to go. Jinyoung is the new mécène, it would look bad to refuse his invitation, but at the same time, he isn’t a stranger. He’d probably understand if you’d prefer to stay in your room… Right? Meeting him on the night of your first performance role was more than what you both expected, although he seems to be more than thrilled by all this. There was once a time where the simple memory of him would bring joy in your life. You close your eyelids to escape from the horrible flashbacks that come, but you still see it; your father dying, the Vicomte letting you know exactly where you stand, Madame Giry–. You bring a hand to your chest, clutching where your heart is, panicked. You can’t do this.

“Y/n– Um, Mademoiselle Daae!” Behind your closed door, Jinyoung chuckles at his mistake, unaware of your current distress. “Are you almost ready to go?”

The voice is hushed this time, very close and worried. “I don’t want you to go. Don’t go.” You look up to yourself in the mirror, breathing rendered heavy by your old pain and eyes full of tears.

“I have to.” As soon as you say the obvious your hands start to shake. You feel nauseous, overwhelmed by the feeling you’re trapped. Is Jinyoung really not a stranger? Where was he all those years? Even if you ran away, disappeared. Isn’t he the one supposed to always come saving you, like in your childhood games? Where was he? He barely stutters anymore, is he really your Jinyoung then? Is he the same just because he still says he cares for you? Biting your tongue so much you bleed, you wipe a fugitive tear on your cheek.

“Y/n? Are you alright?” Outside, that Jinyoung is sincerely concerned; you’re taking way too long to get ready.

You can’t do this. You deeply sigh before tentatively asking: “This isn’t the only exit, right?” There’s a long silence, heavy and doubt surfaces in the back of your mind.

“Are–” The voice halts, its owner seemingly abashed. “Are you asking me?”

You look up in the mirror again, this time trying to see beyond, unsuccessful like the other times you tried. Perhaps he’s just as scared as you are, there must be a reason he lives in the shadows. You try to remind yourself of that often when you become too curious about him.

Only tonight, you don’t care; you need an escape, need to be saved.

“Who else?”

L’Opéra [Mini Masterlist]

#thekpopnetwork #kpoptrashtag #park jinyoung #got7 #im jaebum #l'opéra #got7 scenarios #got7 fanfiction #jb #im jaebum scenarios #park jinyoung scenarios #jinyoung fluff #yo guys im sorry this took so long #please tell me what you think #idk #i wrote a long chapter so you forgive me for the wait ;)#sfw

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darveyfics · 7 years

Text

The Art of Trick-or-Treating

Prompt:

Anon: Darvey take their son/daughter trick or treating for the first time

mrgaretcarter: TRICK OR TREATING WITH THEIR OWN KID(S) ps: one of them has to be a girl

He had come home on Wednesday evening later than usual in an attempt to finish up work so they could spend the Halloween weekend at his father's place in Boston and not be interrupted by clients with questions. It was approaching midnight when he walked in and noticed the overhead lights at the kitchen island were still on, and he turned the corner to find his wife, sitting on a barstool, with what he assumed to be dinner she had shared with their daughter at a normal hour earlier this evening.

He sets his briefcase on the floor near the island and lets out a long sigh and moves to Donna's side, pressing his lips to her temple and whispering his hey.

"Hey," Donna greets through a mouthful of macaroni and cheese. "There’s more in the oven if you’re hungry.”

"Oven?" He asks but moves away to the other side of the island to take it out anyway.

"Your daughter wakes at the sound of your alarm going off for your 5:00 am runs. Do you think I was going to test that on the microwave at midnight when I'm starving?" Donna says with a slight laugh. "I wanted to eat my food while it was still hot."

He chuckles and uses the hot pads, and notices there’s an extra plate still on the counter, so he sets the hot dish on the top of the stove as he closes the oven door and turns the stove off.

He piles the macaroni and cheese onto his plate and sits on the barstool next to her.

"How's the world of corporate law this evening?" Donna jokes as she runs her fork of cheesy noodles through her puddle of ranch dressing on her plate.

"Pretty quiet for the start of the fourth quarter of the year," Harvey says with a shrug.

They eat in silence as Donna scrolls through the various apps on her phone and looks at all the tagged pictures she's in on Instagram with interest.

"You finish her costume?" Harvey asks between bites of his dinner.

"Yep," she nods as she likes a comment that made her chuckle a little inside. "And, of course, she wanted to watch The Little Mermaid as I finished it. So we viewed it three times today."

Harvey shook his head.

"It’s your fault you know," Harvey pointed out. "You’re the one who showed her all the princesses with the same hair colour as the two of you."

She sets her phone down and stabs noodles on his plate and eats them and gives him a look.

"You can do my dishes," Donna says as she stands and sets her fork across her empty plate. "I have to pee."

Harvey shakes his head and watches as she leaves the room and goes back to their bedroom. He finishes dinner and their dishes, and he's yawning as peeks in the room across from theirs to find his little princess has decided to sleep at the foot of her bed.

When he steps into his own room, Donna is laying on her side of the bed and has stolen one of his pillows. She’s far from sleep and watches as he moves through his nightly routine. After stripping down to his boxer briefs, he climbs into bed, and she shifts to find a comfortable position as she moves closer to him.

"How long did you nap today?" He asks quietly as his fingers weave through her locks.

"Umm, five-ish hours between the two naps?" She sighs. "I’m exhausted but can’t sleep. Big surprise."

His fingers move from her hair to steal under the sheets and run down her side to her waist, drawing a pattern on the side of her growing belly.

"I can tell you a riveting tale about the meeting Jessica and I just had with Paul Porter and his bowtie trying to convince us we should switch the firm's compensation structure," he tells her while still tracing patterns on her belly.

"You paid attention?" She asks with more than a hint of scepticism in her tone.

"Well, Jessica told me the highlights. His bow tie was a bunch of little pumpkins and aliens. I was fascinated and worried at the same time," Harvey recalled.

"Elizabeth definitely gets her attention span from you," Donna quietly laughs. "But, sure, bore me to sleep."

Harvey pouts a little, but soon enough he launches into his day that had been jam-packed with meetings. -- Thursday, the day before Halloween, is a slow start to their long weekend. Harvey decided to let Donna sleep in a little and gets their three-year-old daughter ready for a half a day of driving, but she's a little hostile in the way only three-year-olds can get away with, and she wakes Donna with her jagged crying.

He's looking apologetic as Elizabeth runs and hugs her mother's legs and Donna decides today a bribe will get them closer to a successful morning and future nap, so she suggests going out to get hot chocolate and pancakes and Elizabeth stops crying and looks up at her mother with wide brown eyes. She has to let her father put her in warm clothes since its autumn, and they compromise with one of her rejected costumes. And as Harvey helps her dress as Donna gets dressed from her pajamas into something loose and comfortable for a walk down a few blocks, he thinks about the past Halloweens they've had as a family.

Her first Halloween, Elizabeth was two months old, and Donna was in Los Angeles doing talk show rounds with the various networks promoting her film that was coming out and a new television show she was taking part in. Naturally, where mom went, the new baby went. She had taken pictures of their baby dressed in a little monkey onesie costume they had picked out when they had gone outfit shopping and sent them to him via text. It was a welcome respite from the frustrating day of court he had when he got back to his office to find pictures and a video waiting. When they had FaceTimed later that night, he watched as his little monkey fell asleep as Donna unwrapped candy she had received in the guest dressing rooms as they talked about their respective long days.

Her second Halloween, they had moved into a new building and didn’t know any of the neighbours. So, Donna had the day off from the set, and she took the little Nemo in with her to Pearson Specter and the partners and associates were kind enough to take a minute out of their day to let the two-year-old get candy. Harvey had been meeting with a client so they were a surprise in the office when he came back. Elizabeth had wiggled out of Jessica’s arms and ran to the elevators to reach for her father. It had been an Instagram-worthy photo with little hands squishing Harvey’s cheeks in an attempt to make fish lips as he grinned. That picture was a top ten of the year as it passed over 100,000 likes. A new record for her that year.

Now, her third Halloween would be the first time she'd experience trick or treating for real as Donna was wrapping her series and had gotten Thursday and Friday off and Harvey was the one with the idea to give her a real trick or treating experience like they had when they were kids. Donna reminded him that she had spent most of her younger trick-or-treating years in Cortland where the houses tend to be half a mile away or longer. He gave her a look because he was just trying to make a gesture and she laughed and told him it was sweet.

As bribed, they eat breakfast at the café down the street. As they walk, Elizabeth is between them, dressed as a little zookeeper with a little giraffe wrapped around her neck. Elizabeth's hands are in either one of Donna's and Harvey's and every few minutes Elizabeth counts one, two, 'free, and she's lifted between them, and a giggle makes its way past her lips.

Their daughter can’t contain her excitement at the little foam pumpkin the barista draws in the milky froth of her hot chocolate. While waiting for their food, Donna sets all their drinks together to show off the art of a maple leaf, a pumpkin, and a cat face in their respective beverages. Of course, little fingers that are more interested in continuing to sneak the extra chocolate powder feature in the picture she edits for her Instagram.

"You know your most loyal fans will be here within ten minutes," Harvey points out as he sees she tags the location.

"Why do you think I always post it as we're finishing?" Donna says as she shows him it's all set to be posted, but she hasn't pressed the done button. "I'd like to eat these pancakes in peace."

Harvey looks at her with slight concern as she wraps her scrambled eggs in a pancake with a bit of syrup. But he learned to stop asking, and it's not like anyone in the café is paying attention to them.

Elizabeth eats her one along with her eggs, separately, and since they're sitting on the same side, she leans into his side, and her fork touches his french toast in an effort to steal it. He takes the hint and cuts it up, and Donna laughs and shares a conspiratory grin with their daughter as father and daughter share the remainder of Harvey’s breakfast.

When they get back to the condo, it's much easier to finish packing the last minute items and loading the SUV for the nearly five-hour drive--in good traffic--to Boston when mother and daughter are sated with food.

And, it's a more leisurely drive when, a few hours in, both of his passengers are asleep, and he can listen to his music in peace. -- When they get to Gordon Specter’s hour in the late afternoon, Marcus and his family were already there. It looked like they had come straight from school as two bright pink backpacks sit near the coat rack in the entryway. His father was watching a rerun of some show, his brother and his wife were on the couch, and it looked like the five and seven-year-olds were outside burning off energy.

He opens the door with Elizabeth still half asleep in his arms and an overnight bag hanging on his shoulder while Donna held the garment bag all their costumes were in for tomorrow night.

They say passing hellos as they head upstairs for his old bedroom to set their stuff down before heading back downstairs.

When he finally sat down on the loveseat with Donna, Katie made an effort to clear her throat loudly and dramatically.

He heard Donna sigh, and he hid his grin by pretending to check to see if Elizabeth had fallen back asleep or if she was just quietly observing the scene around her. It was the latter.

In Katie Specter's hands was the most recent issue of Vanity Fair with Donna’s face on the cover. It was fitting that she be on the October issue and get to dress up in Halloween costumes considering this is her favourite holiday.

"I see you’ve found a fascinating read," Donna says as she leans forward on the cushion she sits on. She turns to Gordon. "How many did you buy?"

"I’m kinda digging that you’re Ariel, Merida, Elastigirl, and Elsa, all in one article. But the best part is probably your little Anna," Katie laughs as Gordon pretends like he doesn’t hear Donna.

"They were going to have me be Anna, but when they saw her, well, they decided she'd make her modelling debut," Donna says with a laugh.

She gets up from the couch and moves to the kitchen to get herself water and thinks if she's hungry, Elizabeth is bound to be as well and sneaks some Chex Mix from Gordon's pantry.

"I'm wondering about the new feature coming in April 2015," Gordon says with his brows raised as he ignores the television for a moment. "Your IMDB doesn't list any projects with that release date."

It had been one of the last questions they asked what she had been looking forward to in 2015 and she had laughed before answering 'Probably my feature in April 2015' and not giving any more details.

Before she sits on the loveseat again, she turns to her audience and her hand that holds the bag of Chex Mix moves to her tunic, and smooths the material over her growing but still a moderately small bump for 18 weeks.

"Our new feature," Donna laughs. "Due like nineteen days before I have to go back to work on the new season in April."

"Shit," Marcus finally pipes up and hands over a fifty dollar bill to his father.

Gordon winks at Harvey as Donna sits on the loveseat again and she and Elizabeth dig into his Chex Mix. -- In an effort to have Elizabeth's first real Halloween be memorable, they all decided it would be a family-themed event.

"I'm starting to regret this costume," Donna says as she catches Harvey's eyes in the mirror as she teases her hair a little more with her pick comb.

Harvey gives her an appreciative once over as she stands up straight.

She was wearing a black bateau neckline, high waisted dress that had violet, lavender, purple, white, and black tulle draping down the waist to make her look like an octopus without the gaudy appendages.

She had teased her hair with enough product to wonder if it would set itself on fire near an open flame. Her off-white hair sits in a messy beehive. She has shockingly bright red lipstick on and the most vivid blue eyeshadow colour he'd ever seen.

"Because it's supposed to rain later?" He asks.

"More like my boobs hurt, my back hurts, and I swear my feet are also starting to swell the longer I stand here," she sighs and tosses the comb in her hands onto the counter.

Harvey steps into her personal space and his hands move over her hips through the tulle. He spaces out his thumbs on either side of her lower back to find the familiar knot on either side. His thumbs work in a tiny, circular motion with ease as he presses close.

She leans her hands against the counter as she breathes in and out slowly.

"Better?" He asks after a few minutes of kneading and watching her mirrored reflection.

"It's a start," she concedes.

"Mmh," he says with a laugh as he backs away and lets her turn to face him. "You smell like baby powder."

"Can't exactly use the temporary hair dye," she says with a sigh as she presses a hand to her growing belly that's somewhat hidden in the folds of tulle.

"You could have worn a wig," he points out and regrets it as soon as she narrows her eyes.

"I just wore a wig on and off for the last month. These locks need to breathe," Donna reminds him. "And all this new hair growth is making my scalp itchy, so it's a good thing we're wrapping soon."

"Let's go get our little Ariel so we can trick-or-treat and then I can feed you. And I even went to get that god awful spumoni ice cream and some potato chips for you from the store."

Donna frowns because that's exactly what she wants. She hates that her cravings are predictably the same.

"The tabloids think my cravings are ice cream and pickles," she notes as she follows him out of the washroom.

"I bought pickles once for sandwiches," Harvey says as he shakes his head.

"Apparently if you buy ice cream and pickles at the same time, they report I am pregnant, and they assume it's for me," Donna shrugs her shoulders.

"Well, I mean, they're not wrong with one report. We just haven't officially confirmed it? Nevermind we also bought like thirty other items at the grocery store that day," Harvey sighs but drops the subject as they find themselves now on the outskirts of his father's living room with a grumpy little Sebastian, a crying Flounder, and a mischevious looking Ariel in the arms of King Triton.

"That's all you," Donna pats Harvey's arm before moving to the coat rack to get her black hoodie--just in case it does start to rain.

Harvey moves and takes Elizabeth from his father's arms.

"She hasn't done anything," Gordon says. "But I know that look, so I kept her out of the fray."

Her little brown eyes are twinkling with mischief, and her little dimples are showing as she laughs as her two cousins get reprimanded by Marcus who’s the crazy Chef Louis and Katie, dressed as Carlotta, the palace maid. Harvey tampers his own smile and figures the best course of action is just to leave the situation before he starts to laugh and set a bad example.

"Let's have you go potty before we head out," Harvey says as he walks back to the washroom on this floor to let his brother and sister-in-law handle their fighting children.

Donna had gone with a long sleeve peach-coloured leotard for Elizabeth's costume to keep her warm. Ariel's familiar purple seashell top was carefully stuck on the leotard thanks to neat strips of iron-on adhesive that's usually used to hem pants magically. She was determined to keep their three-year-old warm while trick or treating without compromising the costume, and since she couldn't sew worth a damn, improvisation is essential.

She had the foresight to get one that had buttons, so there was no catastrophes or wardrobe malfunctions as Harvey helped Elizabeth out of her green sequence skirt and lime green leggings to keep her warm. He thinks Donna will teach her to hold skirts and dresses up after she masters the main point--to go when she needs to and without prompting or them noticing the familiar "potty dance."

For his own Prince Eric costume, he'd stuck with his own clothes--a bright white button down and dark blue jeans. He had to find a pair of black snow boots, and he had folded his jeans up to where the boots and pants meet. Donna had snuck a red sash from the costume department to tie around his waist, and he sported a combover and had enough pomade to make it darker than his sandy-brown natural hair colour.

All in all, it was quite the family affair, and Donna made sure to capture the whole thing with video and pictures. -- Gordon Specter lived on a cul de sac in one of Boston's suburban, middle-class neighbourhoods where everyone knew everybody, and there were monthly neighbourhood cookouts.

To begin, they practice at Gordon's door, and Marcus's kids participate thanks to a bribe of ten dollars from Harvey for their time.

The seven-year-old rings the bell and Gordon answers the door with such enthusiasm Elizabeth wiggles excitedly and giggles out a version of trick-or-treat and attempts to go back inside.

"Hey, wait, you don't go into the houses," Harvey says as he scoops her up. "You say trick-or-treat and then wait for candy."

Harvey nods, and they try it again. That time she doesn't go in, but as they call it a success and Gordon deposits a box of Milk Duds in her bag, she digs through her bag and hands said tote to Harvey and runs to Donna whose conversing with Katie at the end of the driveway.

There's a brief meltdown as Donna explains treats are for after its all done but her tears vanish when Donna says they can share this one box until tonight after dinner. Elizabeth doesn't know the box only holds four and Donna takes two for herself as she hands the open box back to Elizabeth as they begin at the neighbour's house for the official start.

With Gordon living on the block for the past 15 years, it’s not surprising when neighbours see Donna, Harvey, and Elizabeth with Gordon, Marcus, and Marcus' family as they trick-or-treat, they want to chat with the New Yorkers who only make the occasional holiday visit. Thankfully, they refrain and just mention they need to catch up one night when they’re still here or plan something at a later date.

Harvey's tenth grade English teacher lives a block down from his dad, so it's no surprise he spends a little more time here and makes Donna come up the driveway with him and Elizabeth. The woman reminds him that he almost failed her class by failing to participate in the theatre portion of class and wonders how he appreciates the stage and acting because he's been married to a famous actress for the past eight years.

"I'm a Donna fan, Mrs Burkowicz," Harvey shrugs. "Maybe if I had gone to tenth grade in Hartford, I would have passed English with more than a B-."

Donna bites the inside of her cheek and Harvey tilts his head and grins. Elizabeth’s trick-or-treat sounds more like 'tick-er-teat' and Harvey stifles a laugh each time she mutters it.

Elizabeth gets an extra handful of candy despite her father's sass.

"For you and your mom," Mrs Burkowicz says as she looks to the little Ariel whose eyes are huge as she looks between her canvas tote and the lady who just gave her treats.

"No, dad," Elizabeth conspires.

Donna decides now is the perfect time to laugh aloud, and she takes Elizabeth's hand and starts to walk away.

Harvey looks back at his old English teacher, and the woman winks before shutting the door.

Donna and Harvey take turns walking up the driveways with the rest of his family as they continue moving throughout the neighbourhood.

They make it almost four more blocks before Elizabeth gets tired of walking and asks to be held by Harvey. It’s another seven blocks before she falls asleep and they go another ten before the sky begins to darken and Donna’s steps slow because her back aches, her feet are sore, and she’s hungry for something that isn't candy that she's been sneaking every few blocks from Elizabeth's bag she carries.

Donna thinks she's going to really enjoy this weekend eating through their kid's candy and wondering how many slices of Pinocchio's she can eat without getting tired of the cheesy goodness. -- Elizabeth was still passed out, leaning against her mother as Donna lounged against the arm of the couch with her feet in Harvey’s lap as he sat on the far cushion and absentmindedly worked his fingers against the muscles and tendons in Donna's feet and calves. They were waiting for Katie and Marcus to get back with the pizza, pasta, and salad before waking Elizabeth. With Elizabeth draped alongside her and stuck between her mother and the couch, Donna's skirt and dress material were pulled enough that everyone in the room could really see the swell of her belly.

"You know what it is yet?" Gordon asks as he watched his daughter-in-law run her fingers through her daughter's hair as the less boisterous Specter family shared the room. The other little kids are in the kitchen trading candy and drinking a can of soda they're not really supposed to have in an effort to get a sugar rush while mom and dad are away and grandpa's in charge.

"Uh, a few days ago, the ultrasound tech accidentally said it’s a girl," Donna says as she looks over at her father-in-law with a small smile. "95% certain."

"Both my sons, surrounded by females," Gordon chuckles. "Did Marcus let you know they’re trying for a boy?"

Harvey shook his head, but Donna nodded.

"Katie was wondering if we’re going to have another. I told her we needed to get through birthing this one before thinking about a number three," Donna says honestly.

Gordon chuckles, and Harvey already feels slightly overwhelmed by the thought.

As Harvey and his father play catch up, Donna finds a fantastic photo of the three of them where her bump is visible and decides to let her fans in on their secret. After all, its been almost a month of speculation since Vanity Fair was published with her cryptic interview answer and thankfully her coworkers and the set crew kept mum even as fans began to stalk the set more and tweet at her fellow cast members.

In the photo outside on the lawn of Gordon's house, Elizabeth is having a little meltdown, pulling on the tulle skirt of her mother's and therefore showing off her baby bump as Donna, as Ursula, kisses Harvey, as Prince Eric. When Katie sees it on her own feed the next day, she jokingly demands a photo cred, and when Donna does indeed photo cred her username, Katie ends up with hundreds of new follower requests.

She posts another two during the weekend in Boston. One of the backs of the entire crew walking down the sidewalk--she doesn't like to feature the faces of little ones, including her own, just to keep something private. The last is a shot of Harvey and Elizabeth as they sit on the rug and sort out the Halloween candy. In the photo, Elizabeth is sharing an M&M with her father.

That weekend, Donna tells Harvey they should really do the whole neighbourhood-type trick-or-treating every year, and she hopes the family-themed trick-or-treats last at least until Elizabeth is a teenager and therefore becomes too cool to dress the same as her soon-to-be sister.

Harvey wonders if it’d be appropriate to also buy a house in New York to escape to for the weekends. And, for future trick-or-treating adventures. And, maybe to even start hosting holidays and inviting people and having enough room to spare.

#darvey #darvey fic #donna x harvey #author: harrietspecter #prompt #halloween prompt #one shot #rated t #not connected with my AU. I just like the name Elizabeth for a baby girl

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zairehyun-blog · 7 years

Note

do ask memes :o

ALL OF THEM!? ON THE ENTIRE WEBSITE!? no but since i love you i will ~

Halloween asks : done

‘Let’s get personal’: done

Sweet asks:

vanilla - how has your week been?

An honest to god mess, but that’s okay. It’ll get better soon~

chocolate - what do you crave right now?

Attention.

red velvet - what type of music do you like?

All tbh

ice cream - if you were an animal, what kind would you be?

I WOULD BE RILAKKUMA (u may be like zaire that’s not an animal. shhh let me be rilakkuma)

cake - describe your ideal location

like.. im just gonna say what i consider home

new zealand or osaka 💫

mocha - what are three things that make you feel warm inside?

my bby

the stars

writing abt my day at night

frosting - describe your appearance

uhm Mmmm i don’t know how i would.

marshmallow - do you sleep with plushies? if so, which are your favorites?

I DO INDEED i sleep with my moomin

sorbet - describe an ideal summer day

Going on adventures ;; especially car rides n stuff like that ✨

butterscotch - describe an ideal autumn day

going outside and walking around and the cold wind n i m happy it’s autumn 🍂

caramel - describe an ideal winter day

DRINKING HOT CHOCOLATE AND WATCHING TV IN AN OVERSIZED SWEATER WHILE IT SNOWS AND THEN GOING OUTSIDE TO PLAY IN THE SNOW ❄️

pecan - describe an ideal spring day

sitting outside n just enjoying all the flowers c”:

mint - what’s new in your life?

my bby

pie - “home is where…”

he is

macaroon - list three things you feel inspired to do

draw again

to cosplay

2 mAKE HOT CHOCOLATE NOW

Send me a number:

1: where are you from?

I was born in London but I was raised in New Zealand

2: how old are you?

I’m 18

3: when is your birthday?

March 13th

4: what is your favorite music genre?

It all depends on my mood

5: religious?

Yes

6: do you believe in ghosts?

Yes

7: would you want to be immortal?

Yes and no, I would hate to lose everyone who isn’t but I would love to see how the world will evolve idk

8: favorite book?

Alice in Wonderland

9: favorite song?

MIC DROP ASJGHSD

10: favorite band/singer?

I have too many but between bts and exo :3

11: sexual preference?

Indifferent to gender

12: virgin? If not, how old were you when you had sex for the first time?

No & 16

13: do you drink, if yes, tell me what?

Nah.

14: do you smoke?

15: ever did drugs?

16: ever visit a festival?

Yes

17: do you have pets? tell me about them!

I have 2 cats ✨

Ayumu & Kiyoshi

18: how many countries have you been to?

A lot , my dads travel 2 much

19: do you speak another language besides english? If yes, write a sentence in that language!

Korean - 안녕 사랑해!

Japanese - やあ、君を愛している！

and Arabic - مرحبا انا احبك!

They all say Hi, I love you! C:

20: vegan, vegetarian or meat eater?

21: be creative! write a short story about something that comes into your mind!

ASGIJSDHKJf i hate

one day we all heard zayn left the band and it was the worst day ever like they had a song called the best day ever no bitch this is the worst day ever and we all went 2 bed and it was all a mutual dream we all had (WTF WAS THIS ASKJGHKSD)

22: put your iPod on shuffle and tell me the first 10 songs

i don’t have my phone near me either

23: grab the nearest book and give me the last sentence of page 124

I have no books near me....

24: tell me about your crush

i’m answering his ask

25: any weird habits?

If i get scared i start sucking on the back of my thumb

26: ever been rude to a teacher?

Yeah

27: ever talked to yourself?

I always do...

28: extrovert or introvert?

In the middle

29: the most embarrassing moment in your life?

WHEN MY DAD GOT DRUNK AND STARTED FLIRTING wITH MY OTHER DAD AND WAS LIKE “u single”

and my other dad said “no.” and MY daD cRIEd AJHKGDS

30: what keeps you going?

🍯 you c: 🍯

31: ever thought about suicide?

Always

32: do you suffer from a mental illness?

Yeah

33: I'm bored, tell me something funny that happened to you!

I once fell down a flight of stairs because I thought someone was walking up them and I wanted to beat them, but like as I was falling I realised I was walking downstairs and no one was there.

34: your 5 favorite blogs

1. @spook-hyun

2. @lucidyeol

3. @hosvoks

4. @ultchen

5. any suggestion blog tbqh

35: 10 facts about yourself

1. I can bend my pinky all the way back lmao

2. It took me one night to learn Korean :’)

3. I’m a self taught artist

4. the first cat I ever had, I randomly found and I nursed him back to health and he never left me C:

5. I used to want to be a vet/or just someone around animals at all times

6. I used to live by the ocean and yet i’m lowkey afraid of it askJGHKSD

7. I started this blog as a safe space ✨

8. I have a twin sister who’s older than me by a minute

9. I have a younger sister who still calls me her little brother....

10. i’m madly in love

36: 3 things you like about yourself

Nothing

37: 3 things you hate about yourself

Everything

38: biggest turn on?

AHEH IM NOT DISCLOSING THAT I have a stalker who’s gonna try shit so no

29: biggest turn off?

someone who’s controlling. ;e; like i get if you’re like warning me abt something but if you’re like thisthen yeah fuck off.

30: when did you join tumblr?

January 2014

Luxury Asks:

bubble bath: do you have any routines before bedtime? like skin care, etc. what are they?

AHA YALL READY FOR THIS

I wash my face n then i brush my teeth and then i put lotion on and i change and then i drink green tea and watch anime lmao and that’s it

champagne: what topic could you talk about for hours?

You

crushed velvet: have you ever used your charm to get something you want?

AHEH HOW DO U THINK I GOT HYUN

diamonds: how do you feel about excessively spending money?

I mean, if it’s for a shopping spree for good reason (like u got cheated on and are trying to make yourself happy) then yeah, but if you do it everyday then no

faux fur: describe your wardrobe.

lots of oversized sweaters and jeans and cosplay outfits

glitter: describe someone special to you.

His eyes look like honey when the sun shines on them and every time it happens I fall in love

gold: describe what you would call the most perfect meal.

mY DADS KIMCHI COME FOR ME

jazz: name a song that resonates with you and your emotions. explain the reason why.

Go go because

“I want to be cruisin’ on the bayI want to be cruisin’ like NemoNo money but I wanna go far awayI don’t have money but I wanna relaxNo money but I wanna eat Jiro Ono’s sushi

Worked hard to get my payGonna spend it all on my stomachPinching pennies to spend it all on wasting itLeave me be, even if I overspendEven if I break apart my savings tomorrowLike a crazy guy”

lace: what is something in your life completely different from last year?

My happiness

lingerie: do you consider yourself a promiscuous person?

If I remember the definition correctly

kinda? but I stopped being that way

lipstick: do you enjoy talking to strangers?

n...no not at all lmAO unless it’s like at a comic con or something like that then yeah

pearls: what's something about your personality that surprises others?

I open up to people when I feel comfortable with them, like, I seem really shy and reserved but I open up to everyone I meet as long as I’m comfortable.

penthouse: what would you consider your dream home? describe it.

AAAH my old house

perfume: if you could make your own signature fragrance, what would it smell like?

Ironically my cologne is really strong but it’s not so strong you’re like *dies inside*, it’s like, it’s strong so you remember it and if you smell it somewhere, you’re like “Zaire?”

robe: how do you prepare for an evening alone with a loved one/date?

I HYPE MYSELF UP AND THEN I GET READY LMAO

roses: If it had to be winter, autumn, spring or summer for the rest of your life, which would you choose?

AUTUMN AUTUMN AUTUMN LIKE

AUTUMN ABT TO TURN WINTER YES

satin: what is your most favorite article of clothing?

this oversized as FUcK black sweater that says “fuck off” in japanese on the sleeves asghsdjkfl

sheet mask: what's your favorite lazy activity?

drinking tea while watching anime

silk: do you have more inner or outer beauty?

Inner

silver: do you have any obscure hobbies? what are they?

I’ll draw on the wall and then i’ll paint over it??? unless i rlly rlly like it

sparkling water: what are your top three songs for the summer?

ew summer

wine: what kind of drunk are you (happy/affectionate, angry, sad, fun/wild)? if you don't drink, what kind do you think you WOULD be?

Well,

one dad acts all normal and like he’s not drunk and he makes perfect sense and he’s fully aware of everything and can walk perfectly and cook

my biological dad on the other hand is all emotional and affectionate n happy n soft lMAO so i guess i’d be like my biological dad

wow bby i hope you enjoyed this

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