#vacay fic

[kmomof4]

Destination Dream Weddings, Driving Disasters, & Dented Derrieres: A Fic Collaboration Between @kmomof4 @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose and @jrob64

Ready for Ch3, y'all? Here we go! In today's installment, we are heading to Savannah for sightseeing and the bachelor and bachelorette parties!!

Rating: T

Words: 3700 of approx 21k

On ao3 and ff.net

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

The second full day of their vacation dawned bright and sunny without a cloud in the sky.  It was a gorgeous day, and Emma found herself looking forward to their planned excursion in Savannah.  She donned a breezy, sleeveless, white sundress sprinkled with yellow sunflowers and her favorite pair of comfortable strappy white sandals. 

While normally one to simply toss clothing options into her suitcase, she’d needed to put a little more effort into packing on this trip with all their scheduled adventures, and today’s outfit was no exception.  They planned to spend a fair amount of time walking around Savannah today, and then she and Ruby had organized a bachelorette party for tonight.  Given the itinerary, she’d needed an outfit casual enough for a stroll through the city and yet dressy enough for a night out with the girls.

“You look tantalizing enough to tempt a man to stay home and have his wicked way with you, Swan,” Killian said, coming up behind her in the living room, wrapping his arms around her middle and nosing at her hair, before placing a not-quite-chaste kiss at the base of her neck.

She shivered in response.  When he used that tone of voice, all low and gravelly and full of sin, she nearly forgot her own name.

“What, and miss out on Savannah?” she asked, her voice far from steady.

“I’ve no doubt Savannah has many charms, Love,” he said, still peppering her with kisses, “but she couldn’t possibly hold a candle to you.”

“Oi! Get a room you two!” Will said, opening the cottage door and breezing in.  

“They already have one,” Regina said with an eye roll as she came into the room where they were all gathered, “and if we have to wait for them to make use of it, we’ll never get to Savannah, and I, for one, am looking forward to touring the cemetery.”

“That’s not creepy at all,” Emma said under her breath.

“It’s actually not creepy at all!” Belle said, standing close enough to her friend that she heard exactly what was said. “The cemeteries there are so old, there’s so much history!  It’s fascinating.”

“I’m interested in taking a stroll along the river, getting a gander at the establishments and riverboats,” Liam said.

“I’d like to walk through the squares under the shade of all of those big, beautiful live oaks,” Mary Margaret said.  “I wonder why they’re called live oaks?”

“It’s because they are semi-deciduous,” Graham said. “They never lose all of their leaves.  There’s also a bit about the Spanish moss that clings to them–which is neither Spanish, nor moss, by the way. It got its name because…”

“Let’s save the botany lectures for the road,” Regina said dismissively.  “It’s an hour and a half drive, and if we wait for everyone to share all their collective knowledge, we’ll never get there.”

“Regina, did you just call us smart?” Will asked.

“You’re the exception that proves the rule,” she snarked.

With only one day to spend in Savannah, they knew they couldn’t possibly see everything they hoped to see, and so they planned on splitting up - Emma, Killian, Elsa and Liam taking the riverwalk, Regina, Robin, Roland, Belle and Will touring Bonaventure Cemetery, and Graham, Ruby, Mary Margaret and David strolling through the various squares and touring the shopping district.

With their plans made, they headed to their respective cars for the drive north.

Two hours later, Emma and Killian walked hand in hand down the sidewalk overlooking the river.  It was a beautiful day, quite mild for Savannah in July and with a refreshing light breeze.

“So, you’re having dinner at The Melting Pot, right?” Killian asked. 

Emma nodded. “Then Ruby found something for dessert that she’s refused to tell even me.”

“Any idea what it might be?” he asked.

“Nope,” Emma chuckled.  “Knowing Ruby, it’ll be as risqué as she can possibly get by with and still remain within Mary Margaret’s requirements.”

“Was Ruby particularly disappointed with her stipulation against strippers?” he asked with a grin.

Emma laughed.  “Actually, it was the opposite.  She just shrugged and said it’s no big deal.  She’ll have Graham give her a strip tease when she gets home.”

Killian laughed. “And I’d assume the man in question went quite vermillion at that?”

“Naturally.”

“Killian, look at that,” Liam said, gesturing to the row of shops and restaurants across the street. “Who in their right mind would choose to name their establishment The Broken Keel?”

Killian shook his head derisively, “Bloody fools, that’s who.”

“So, I take it you aren’t interested in going there for lunch?” Elsa asked slyly.

“No!” both men shouted emphatically, causing the women to go off into peals of laughter.

The foursome continued their walk, enjoying the company and the sights of the historic district, the men particularly interested in the majestic river boats docked and awaiting passengers, and the women more interested in the shops and sculptures.

Emma had been fascinated listening to an old man with a long, white beard play his saxophone as he sat on a bench near the river.  From the alleyway behind came the sound of a man singing, clapping, and tapping his feet.  The city was so vibrant and alive and full of joie de vivre.

She turned around to comment about it to Killian, but her boyfriend was nowhere to be found.

“Looks like we lost your brother,” she commented to Liam.  “Let’s hope he didn’t fall in the river.”

Liam laughed and then gave her a look she couldn’t interpret. “I believe he headed toward the riverboats to make some inquiries.”

“Inquiries about what?” she asked.

Liam merely shrugged and then determinedly changed the subject.

Suspicious. Very suspicious.

But then Killian was rejoining their group and they were off again, and Emma put the strange incident from her mind.

~*~*~

As the day settled into evening, the men and women met up again to head to their respective bachelor and bachelorette parties. While the men had reservations for a dinner at the historic Pirate’s House, Ruby announced the locations of the bachelorette party with a mischievous look in her eye.

“First, Emma made dinner reservations for us at The Melting Pot. But no dessert,” she continued, shaking her finger at them all as they ooo-ed and ahhh-ed over Emma’s choice. “I found somewhere else for that. It’s this amazing place called Better Than Sex - A Dessert Restaurant.  Who doesn’t like their cake with a spicy dose of innuendo?”

Mary Margaret groaned…although if the dessert was as good as all that, she wouldn’t complain about their plans for the night. After taking a few moments to say goodbye to their men, the ladies made their way to The Melting Pot.

After their delicious and rather entertaining meal, they walked down the street to the dessert bar. Ruby had reserved a table for a private party, and as soon as the ladies arrived, their friendly, smiling waiter led them up to a room with red walls, plush carpeting, opulent chandeliers and gauzy white curtains covering the windows and ceiling. The room was dimly lit by flickering candles that lined a long banquet table, the chandeliers being more for ambiance than illumination. The smooth jazz music issuing from the sound system completed the atmosphere, and Mary Margaret rather felt as though they were having dessert in a very fancy boudoir.

“Are you ladies celebrating anything in particular tonight?” the server asked, glancing around the group.

“It’s her bachelorette party!” Ruby announced, pointing one exquisitely manicured finger in Mary Margaret’s direction. “She’s gonna tie the knot the day after tomorrow!”

“Congratulations!” the server beamed, “and might I say, you’ve come to the right place. I’m not just saying this; these desserts are to die for. I’ll give you a chance to look over the menu.”

“Order anything you want,” Belle said to Mary Margaret, as soon as the waiter withdrew. “It’s on us; we’re all pitching in.”

Mary Margaret took a sip of the water sitting before her place setting just as she began to peruse the selections, and she almost spit out the sip she’d taken. 

“Oh my! These dessert names are…quite something,” Elsa said with a little chuckle.

“That’s one way to put it,” Mary Margaret agreed with a smile and a shake of her head. The selections on offer had spicy names such as “Pound Town”, “Berry Bondage”, “Naughty by Nature”, “Man Flowers” and “Peanut Butter Perversion.” The descriptions themselves were so steamy they wouldn’t have been out of place on the pages of one of those bodice ripper novels with a half-naked Adonis on the cover.

After some deliberation, she decided to go with the titillatingly-named Hot Sex in Savannah. “Your wildest fantasies have come true!” the menu read. “Georgia peaches have gotten frisky with a little bourbon, pecans, and roasted habanero to reproduce a smokin’ good time. As if you weren’t already having a ball, we’ve added a friend for you to flirt with...... a tickle of our house-made bacon ice cream.” 

“What’s everyone getting?” Ruby asked. “I decided to go with the ‘Between My Red Velvet Sheets Cheesecake’.”

After a little discussion, everyone made their selections. Regina ordered the ‘Missionary Crisp’--an apple and cake-like confection. Emma opted for the ‘Morning After’ to no one’s surprise–it, after all, consisted of a chocolate and brie grilled cheese. Elsa chose the ‘Perfect Partner’, essentially a sundae made from vanilla bean ice cream and white chocolate. Belle rounded out the order with the very suggestively titled ‘Caress My Carrot’, perhaps the most decadent slice of carrot cake ever baked.

The restaurant was so very committed to its naughty puns, it had a note at the bottom of the menu that said 'and no suggestive dessert is truly complete without an equally racy cocktail'. They ordered such colorful drinks as ‘Midnight Vixen’, ‘Love Potion 69’, ‘Minty Moaner’, ‘Tingly-Tini’ and ‘Peanut-Tration’.

Mary Margaret noticed that Elsa was discreetly perusing the section almost tamely-labeled ‘for virgins.’

“So….you’re foregoing the alcohol tonight, I see,” Mary Margaret said, drawing out the first word meaningfully.

“I’ve never found a cocktail I really like,” Elsa said, studiously avoiding her friend’s gaze, a small, secret smile on her lips. “And besides, we need someone to be the designated driver.”

Mary Margaret wasn’t buying that for a moment, but before she could dig deeper to find out whether the secret hunch she’d carried since overhearing Elsa and Liam’s conversation was correct, their food and drinks arrived, and with that, all other thoughts were forgotten.

For long minutes after their desserts were served, the only sounds to be heard were soft exclamations, hums of satisfaction, and moans of ecstasy. There was no doubt about it, Mary Margaret decided. These desserts did not oversell themselves. How they’d managed to turn what was essentially a peach cobbler into such a rich, decadent, and spicy explosion of flavor on her tongue was beyond her.

“So what did you think?” Ruby asked. “Did it live up to its name?”

Mary Margaret thought for a moment. “It was good. It was very good,” she repeated, “but better than sex?” She shook her head with a smug smile. “Not a chance.”

“I did not need to hear that,” Emma muttered.

But in the end, all the ladies had to agree.

~*~*~

The men emerged from their vehicles in the parking lot of The Pirate’s House, the world famous restaurant housed in one of Savannah’s oldest buildings. The structure, only a block from the riverfront, was originally built in 1734 - a year after the town’s founding - as the quarters for the keeper of the Trustees’ Garden, the first public agricultural experimental garden in America. By the early 1750’s, Savannah was a vibrant and thriving port city and The Herb House, as it had been named, was converted into an inn that attracted sailors and pirates alike. Legend said the infamous Captain Flint actually died inside the historic building. 

“And perhaps, lingers still,” Killian intoned, his eyebrows waggling in intrigue at little Roland, whose eyes resembled round saucers.

“Really?” His high pitched screech made the men chuckle. “Is it haunted, Papa? Are we gonna see a ghost?” His voice got impossibly higher as he all but jumped up and down grabbing the hem of Robin’s shirt. “ARE WE GONNA SEE THE GHOST OF CAPTAIN FLINT, PAPA?”

“Not quite, Roland,” Robin explained. “Uncle Killian doesn’t quite have his facts straight.”

“Oi!” Killian protested.

“Captain Flint wasn’t a real pirate,” Robin continued, as if Killian hadn’t spoken at all. “He wasn’t even a real man. He’s a character in the story of Treasure Island written by Robert Louis Stevenson back in the 1880’s.”

“Wowwww,” Roland breathed. “So when you and Uncle Liam were little?” he asked, innocently. Loud guffaws burst out of Killian and Will alike, with Graham and David able to contain their mirth a little better, hiding their laughter behind their hands, their eyes dancing in amusement. Liam snorted and shook his head.

“We’re not that old,” Robin chuckled, ruffling Roland’s curls, “But it is said that The Pirate’s House inspired Stevenson to write it, using a fictional Captain Flint to set the story in motion.” 

The men and little boy stepped onto the porch and through the door of the establishment to be greeted by the hostess. The exterior was gray wooden clapboard with light blue shutters over very weathered red brick, but when they stepped inside, the dark wood paneling, low wooden ceilings, and various piratical accoutrements scattered around were enough to make one feel as if he really had stepped back in time a couple hundred years. 

In the corner across from the door, a life-sized carved wooden pirate stood sentry at the crossroads between the bar (for Thirsty Pirates, according to the small sign above the hostess station pointing left), restaurant (for Hungry Pirates, according to another sign pointing to the right), and the stairs leading up to the second story where the gift shop could be found.

Roland was beside himself and begged Robin to take his picture with the statue who could only be Captain Flint before being let loose in the gift shop to find pirate toys to play with back at the cottage. Robin waved the others on, telling them they’d catch up in a few minutes. 

It only took Roland about ten minutes to fully outfit himself with a plastic sword and hook, a pirate hat, and an eye patch, as well as a door hanger with the Jolly Roger flag on it and the caption NO TRESPASSING PIRATE’S TERRITORY. The men all laughed and cheered when he and Robin made their appearance at the table.

“Arrrrrrr, me hearties!” Roland growled, jumping out from around the corner as Robin made his way to an empty seat. He prowled around the table, swinging the sword this way and that until his father admonished him to be careful not to hit anyone or anything with it. Once he was seated, David showed him the kids’ menu and helped him pick his meal of the Frozen Rainbow- a very fruity frozen drink- and Bold Billy Bones, which consisted of fried shrimp and special Pirate’s House fries.

Once all their orders were placed and their waiter withdrew, a female pirate approached. She had long strawberry blonde hair and wore a bright red long-sleeved blouse underneath a leather vest and tight leather pants.

“Ah ha!” she gasped, focusing on Roland at the other end of the table. “It be the villainous Captain Hook.”

Roland didn’t miss a beat. He jumped to his feet, brandishing his sword and challenged the female pirate to a duel. She drew her own blade, and they proceeded to cross swords for just a few seconds, the men whooping and hollering encouragement to Roland before the lady was disarmed. She smiled proudly at the boy and declared him a master swordsman to have defeated the most famous female pirate of all time, Anne Bonny.

She offered to show Roland around the Pirate’s House, and Will jumped up and took Roland by the hand to go see some of the historical artifacts and the rum cellar, stating that he was sure Belle would be interested to hear about it. 

While Will and Roland were gone, their drinks arrived. The pirate theme was pervasive throughout the restaurant, and the guys had had a great time choosing their respective drinks. First, they ordered two Diplomatico Rum Flights to share between them all. Well, David and Robin as the designated drivers didn’t indulge in the rum flights but focused on a single cocktail for the evening. David had the Savannah Tea while Robin chose the Savannah Storm. Killian had trouble choosing between Pirate’s Pleasure and Release the Kraken, but finally settled on Pirate’s Pleasure when Liam chose the Kraken. But once the drinks were delivered and Liam offered Killian a sip, he opted for the Kraken as well to accompany his meal. Graham chose the Raspberry Mojito because it reminded him of Ruby, and Will ordered the Skull Crusher in a souvenir skull mug.

A few minutes later, Anne Bonny, Will, and Roland returned to the table, Will sporting quite a goose egg on his forehead over his right eye.

“What happened to you?” David asked loudly. Roland ran to Robin talking a mile a minute.

“Uncle Will was going down the stairs to the rum cellar and was telling me to watch my step and didn’t see the… the…”

“The bloody roof of the cellar, or floor we’re walking on, whatever,” Will interrupted.

“Yeah, what Uncle Will said,” Roland said, turning back to Robin and continuing his monologue with hardly a breath in between. “And bam, Uncle Will hit his head and then fell on his bottom on the stairs and bump-bump-bumped down to the bottom,” he said, with appropriate sound effects included. “The first step was really big, and Pirate Anne was holding my hand so I didn’t fall, and Uncle Will turned back around just in time to hit his head. He says his noggin is fine, but his butt is sore. Again.” It didn’t take much imagination for the men to realize that those were the exact words out of Will’s mouth when the accident happened, and they all broke into loud laughter.

Will sat down - slowly and carefully - and immediately took a sip of his drink, waving aside the skeptical look Killian shot him. 

“I’m fine, Mate,” he said. “But look at the skull! How cool is that?”

“And it’s not even cracked like yours, Mate!” Graham cackled.

The other men all laughed as Will grumbled under his breath before taking another sip.

Roland proceeded to recount all the history and things they’d seen and experienced during their private tour, with Anne Bonny staying at the table to fill in details that Roland missed. 

“There was definitely something weird over in the corner of the rum cellar,” Will interjected when Roland was telling them about the giant Jolly Roger flag down there and how there were chains suspended from the ceiling that just started swinging all on their own. “Where the tunnels led down to the river,” Will continued. “Just like an electrical current, felt kind of odd. Not cold, but odd. I don’t know if it was a ghost or not…”

“Of course, it was, Uncle Will!” Roland interrupted. “Captain Flint,” he said, attempting to make his voice low and gravelly. “He died here, remember? It had to be his ghost.” 

Everyone laughed good naturedly, then Anne spoke. “No, not Captain Flint, me bucko,” she said, her rich Irish brogue dripping from every word, a mischievous smile on her face, “but perhaps the Rowdy Ghost who usually haunts the Captain’s Room next door. Ee’s been known to follow patrons down to the rum cellar and play tricks on ‘em. Now this room that y’ere in is haunted by the Friendly Ghost. It’s a bit of a misnomer. Ee’s not exactly friendly, but more of a prankster. Ee’ll switch drinks around, steal food, that sort of thing.”

Just then, their meals arrived. Once everyone was served and beginning to dig into the delicious looking and smelling banquet, Liam announced loudly, “Well, I don’t believe in ghosts.”

No sooner had the words left his lips when his plate of parmesan crusted tilapia flipped over, depositing his meal on the surface of the table, the upended plate landing on top. There was stunned silence for a moment before Killian spoke up, hoping to diffuse a potentially traumatic occurrence for the precocious and brave, but still very small, boy in their midst.  

“That’ll teach you to say you don’t believe in ghosts inside a clearly haunted house, big brother,” he teased. Roland’s eyes were still as huge as saucers, his mouth hanging open slightly, but he laughed when everyone else did as Liam turned as red as a ripe tomato. Robin shot Killian a grateful look, and Anne grabbed Liam’s plate.

“Aye,” Anne agreed, “It’s never wise to express disbelief in the resident spirits in a haunted house. I’ll just fetch ye a new plate, Sir.”

Once his replacement dinner arrived, Liam joined the rest of them in enjoying the excellent repast. No more ghostly incidents occurred, much to Robin’s relief, and by the end of the meal Roland was yawning nearly every thirty seconds.

Anne appeared again as they were all rising from the table. “Ah, me bucko, I see that ye have cleared yere plate of Bold Billy Bones’ fried shrimp and special fries. And your Tiny Tim dessert as well! Ye’ve earned a trip to Billy’s treasure chest in the lobby.” That got Roland’s attention quickly, and he perked up and took her outstretched hand, following her through the restaurant until they emerged in the lobby. He hadn’t noticed it when they came in, but there in the corner was a real wooden treasure chest filled to the brim with lollipops.

“Can I have one, Papa? Can I?” Roland begged.

“Sure,” Robin agreed, an indulgent smile on his face.

After Roland picked his treat, they all emerged into the night, piled into their vehicles and went to pick up their ladies for the drive home to the cottages.

~*~*~

Notes

As with previous chapters, most of what we had our characters do in this chapter was taken from our actual adventures.

We met Giennie for the day in Savannah and she took us on a tour of one of the very old cemeteries (although our excursion was in Colonial Park Cemetery. We didn’t have time to tour Bonaventure Cemetery like Regina and Robin did). We also drove around some of the squares with the magnificent live oaks and Spanish moss.  

With a little bit of time to kill before our reservations for the evening, we took a walk by the river and saw many of the same sights Emma, Killian, Liam and Elsa saw– The Broken Keel, street performers, river boats and memorial sculptures.

We did indeed eat at The Melting Pot, but our dinner was on the way to our rental on the first day of vacation rather than during our primary Savannah day. Unlike the ladies in our story, we opted for the full 5 course celebration rather than the cheese and meat courses alone.

Better Than Sex: A Dessert Restaurant is an actual Savannah restaurant, and while we discussed going, it wouldn’t fit in our schedule. The descriptions of the private party room as well as the names and descriptions of the desserts and cocktails were taken from the restaurant’s website. When we were planning this fic, we had fun choosing desserts and cocktails for the characters.

The Pirate House is also a Savannah restaurant, but this one we did visit. Our evening involved not only dinner at The Pirate House but a haunted tour of the city beforehand and a tour of the (now rum-less) rum cellar. Our table was in the Herb House, which is the oldest part of the restaurant, built in the 18th century. Our waiter was not, in fact, Anne Bonny - historical female pirate - but she made a nice addition to our story. Was she really there? Was she a ghost? Was she a waitress in costume? I guess we’ll never know. The large first step and the low entrance to the rum cellar were real. As we descended the stairs, we immediately knew Will had to crack his cranium one more time as a callback to last year’s fic in addition to denting his derriere. Again. We were also told stories about the ghosts that haunt the Pirate House–from floating orbs to the ghosts named in the story. None of us had any kind of paranormal experience – although one of the guys in our tour group tried to trick our guide into thinking there was – by setting some chains in motion when the guide told us they sometimes move on their own.

Up next on Thursday: Big moments for all of our couples! The most significant being David and Mary Margaret’s wedding, of course – but there are several other secrets revealed, as well as a life-changing moment aboard a riverboat.

~*~*~

Thank you for reading and sharing! We'll be back with our final ch on Thursday!

[itsnotreal]

I was tagged by a few people (a long while ago) @greeneyesfriedrice @enchantedlandcoffee @allwaswell16 @louisgayvodka to do a snippet/last line but I’ll just do a snippet.. honestly it’s been a rough past few months so I haven’t even felt up to writing fic but I did start this a while ago. It’s an angsty fic where they booked a very expensive trip to a very expensive island and then broke up (: idk if anything will come of it but here it is!

Harry jerked away and turned back with a heated gaze, “If you think for a second I want to be alone with you on an island with other couples–.”

Louis scoffed, “Oh, so you want to be alone– on an exclusive island– with other couples that are happily in love?”

A flash of hurt flickered across Harry’s face– and, fuck. Wordlessly, he turned away from Louis and continued up the stairs.

Louis followed. “Haz–.”

He ran into the other man when he, again, stopped abruptly, turned to him and said, “Don’t call me that.”

“Right. Sorry. Um, Harry–.”

Harry rolled his eyes, said, “Somehow that’s worse.”and then turned back to continue his trek to the front desk.

“Look. It’s a decent sized place. I can sleep outside on one of the loungers. We don’t even have to see each other–.”

Harry let out a frustrated grunt as they made it to the line for the front desk, “If it’ll get you to shut up, fine.”

Louis’ eyes widened. “Wait, really?”

Harry turned only his head and gave him a blank stare. “Why do you think I’m going to the front desk?”

Louis’ mouth parted, confusion clouding his face. “More… towels?”

Harry’s mouth twitched with concealed laughter.

Louis counted it as a win.

I’ll tag @greeneyesfriedrice @tommokat @hellolovers13 @louisgayvodka @allwaswell16 @enchantedlandcoffee @indiaalphawhiskey @neondiamond @bananaheathen um and whoever is writing anything!! (: I have no clue who is writing these days🫣

[endlesspaint]

I have so many thoughts about Branch right now.

One particular thought of mine is this scenario, where Gray! Branch meets his future self, who is happy and colorful. I keep asking myself, "How will he react?" "What will happen?" and "How can I turn this both sad and funny?" (LMAO)

This is one of my favorite daydreams to imagine because I can't really write it out. I'm not a writer (I suck at expressing myself through words). I might draw a comic. Maybe? Idk. But anyway, I keep thinking about the fact that Branch was clearly born to be in the spotlight. Bro can adapt to new music fast, is great at singing (his voice is literally being compared to an angel), and the fact he's in two bands is just 🤯.

So whenever I imagine my daydream, I always have this specific dialogue in mind that just makes me go feral.

"How can you be so happy?! After everything we've been through! How can you smile and laugh like we aren't the reason why grandma isn't here?"

"Because grandma would want us to be happy. Grandma would want us to move on and forgive ourselves!.....I never realized that until someone showed me that I can be happy, I just needed help finding it."

[impossiblescissorspeachpaper]

from the moment you leave i can’t help but miss you

elriel month prompt one: shy glances & restricted touches

Light angst, slightly NSFW.

Meet me in the second-floor library.

That was all he had said.

Months. It had been months since Azriel had stepped foot in this house whilst Elain was present and the first thing she heard from him were those seven words.

She shouldn’t have been so surprised he had shown up for this, of course he’d be here today. It was Nyx’s first birthday after all; he would have never not come. 

He had become so proficient at providing excuses for missing family dinners that she had expected more of the same. He was off on a mission, he was needed in the Hewn City, he was overseeing training in the Illyrian Steppes. It was always something.

But today he had shown up, wearing a fine fitting black shirt and perfectly tailored pants that had Elain’s stomach twisting in knots with the way it showed off his truly magnificent physique. His cobalt siphons still sat atop his lovely hands, his tanned forearms catching Elain’s attention when she noticed he’d rolled up his sleeves, but otherwise he was the picture of effortless ease, strolling into the garden party where the rest of their family and closest friends assembled to celebrate the young heir.

All afternoon she had tried to avoid his attention, feeling a heat creep up her cheeks each time she thought of him. But every time she glanced in his direction, she found him already staring, quickly averting his eyes before having them flit back to her. As if he couldn’t help his gaze from drifting toward her.

His attention felt like a hot brand on her back, Elain remaining distractedly aware that his piercing hazel eyes were following her about the garden as she swapped out empty platters of food and chatted merrily to Feyre and Rhys’ guests.

She’d worn a strappy, lavender silk dress for the occasion, the colour an homage to the blooming spring around them as well as a compliment to her nephews sparkling eyes. But had she known he would be attending she’d have chosen something less… revealing. Not that her dress was revealing per se, but the way the Shadowsingers’ gaze followed her as she flitted about the garden had Elain’s skin feeling flushed, and she desperately hoped the blush creeping up her cheeks wasn’t mirrored elsewhere on her exposed skin.

Forcing those illicit thoughts from her mind, Elain feigned a pleasant smile, plastering that tepid expression on her face until she grew distracted enough to forget her anxieties and it became sincere.

She had been engrossed in conversation with Helion, his amber eyes gleaming in the late afternoon sun, when she’d felt the soft touch of a familiar shadow. 

Meet me in the second-floor library.

Gone before it was noticed, the message had been whispered in her ear, the silken threads of its darkness caressing her smooth skin like a lover. The lone shadow had twined about her neck, lingering at the shell of her pointed ear before flitting back to its master unseen. 

The second-floor library was seldom used, and Azriel knew that. It housed a few stacks of ancient books, a mahogany desk and a few plush armchairs scattered throughout, but Inner Circle meetings were usually held in Rhys' study on the first floor. He mustn’t have been summoning her for official business then. Elain gulped, attempting to tamper the heat that was rising within her.

All it had taken were those seven words, and here she remained, contemplating the decision between ignoring the whispered message, or succumbing to his forbidden request.

Deeming it improper to drop her hostess duties at his every whim, she ignored his message and continued her conversation with Helion, overzealously requesting additional details about the formal gardens surrounding the grand libraries his court boasted. No matter how much she wanted to run back into the house and meet him. Distraction was key, but that heat never abated.

After a while, she couldn’t help but be enthralled by Helion’s charismatic demeanour and easy-going nature, so at odds with the intimidating High Lord he portrayed to those outside of his closest circle. Elain found herself thoroughly enjoying his company. 

But it wasn’t long before a second shadow had come slinking along, winding itself around the silky strands of the hair, laving at her the skin behind her ear.

Please, Elain.

The shadow-carried message was more desperate and pleading this time, accompanied with a lingering caress from that tendril of darkness on the delicate skin of her throat. 

She hadn’t noticed Azriel make his way over to them through the small crowd, nonchalantly edging his way closer to no doubt listen in on why she was so enraptured in conversation with a dashing High Lord. Was that a hint of jealousy glinting in his hazel eyes?

Azriel’s gaze locked on hers for the briefest of moments before he brushed passed her, a solitary scarred finger stretched toward hers as he did. Their fingertips found each others in the folds of her dress, the swaths of smooth silk ensuring no one caught sight of the small, intimate interaction.

Her breath caught in her throat at the brief touch, his warm skin igniting hers in a way no other male had ever managed to do. His touch sparked a rush beneath her skin and Elain prayed that none of the astute fae ears around them heard her thundering heart.

Her concentration had finally slipped from the attention of the High Lord of Day; surely Azriel’s intention with the subtle caress. But try as she might, she could no longer ignore the Shadowsingers’ request. He had accomplished his mission.

Cad.

Awaiting an appropriate break in the conversation, Elain politely excused herself and made her way toward the River manor, picking up a few empty platters on her way inside. 

On silent feet, she casually meandered her way through the manor, consciously shifting her expression to simply appear absent-minded to any unwanted eyes that may be following her movements throughout the halls.

Climbing the grand staircase, she strolled up to the second-floor library where she was instructed to go, and as soon as she had clicked the heavy mahogany door closed behind her, the Spymaster materialised from a swarm of shadows milling about between two stacks of old books.

Elain’s breath caught in her chest. It was always prone to doing so when he was nearby. He was devastating.

He stood before her, broad-shouldered and solemn faced, pausing as his eyes once again raked over her, taking in every inch of her from head to toe. She burned under his heavy gaze.

With sure, fluid movements, it took him all but three long strides before he was standing before her, his imposing frame crowding her senses, leaving just a hairsbreadth of space between their yearning bodies.

“I wasn’t sure you’d be here today.”

Azriel didn’t answer straight away, he merely shifted closer still, his hand coming to rest on her waist, its warm weight heating her skin. 

Craning his neck down toward her, Azriel gingerly rest his forehead against hers, breathing in her honey and jasmine scent, and his eyes fluttered closed. Finally content.

He stood motionless for several moments, the only movement was his chest rising and falling as he slowly took lungfuls of her in, as if he needed her very essence to carry away the time they had spent apart before he could continue any further.

Opening his eyes but making no movements to pull away, he responded.

“I would never have missed it. Besides Rhys and Feyre would never forgive me if I did.”

“I just thought, with the way it’s been lately—”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” he murmured softly.

She didn’t blame him, the growing tension between the Shadowsinger and High Lord had been palpable lately.

To prove his point, he brought his other hand up to twine into her hair, his fingers grazing the delicate skin of her neck on its way. It sent a shiver up her spine that didn’t go unnoticed by Azriel, his eyes smouldering at her reaction.

Elain sighed into his chest, turning pliant in his arms as Azriel brought his lips to her throat, skimming her smooth alabaster skin with his nose as the fingers at her waist gripped her tighter.

A searing heat scorched its way up Elain’s insides, her veins thrumming with hedonistic desire, the sudden need to feel more of him engulfing her senses.

Elain had thought she had known the intoxicating feeling of passion when she was human, but in her fae body, the concept took on an entirely different meaning. Those fae instincts were sometimes all consuming, screaming at her to take, and feel, and want.

She dragged her hands up into his dark hair, scraping her nails across his scalp as his lips continued to lightly graze the skin of her neck, feeling his body shudder against hers at the sensation. 

He was barely touching her, barely allowing those lips to flutter across her flesh, and yet Elain burned. She burned with a desire so ferocious she feared one day it would consume her wholly.

She whimpered, and in answer Azriel finally allowed let his mouth to lave at her pulse, tasting the skin there, letting the steady thrum of her heartbeat set the pace of his actions. 

His tongue darted out from between his full lips, suckling at her flesh and he moaned, moaned at the taste of her. He was so proficient at leaving her needy and pliant, that all she could do in that moment was angle her jaw, giving him more, silently urging him to take it all.

Wrapping her arms tight around his neck she pulled his chest against hers, fusing her softness with his hard lines, revelling in the feeling of every inch of her flushed skin being pressed against his.

The only barrier between them now was the clothing that hung off their forms, serving as a feeble obstacle to the kindled flames that roared within them, begging to twine and dance together. 

His mouth didn’t leave the curve of her neck, continuing its march up her throat to lick at the delicate skin behind her ear, sucking her lobe into his mouth before releasing it from between his teeth. She bit her lip at his ministrations, stifling another whimper.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that they had to be apart. The periods he was away proved to be utter agony for the both of them. The endless longing only growing unbearable in his absence. It never dissipated, never wavered. And every time he’d return, they were only granted these fleeting, secret moments when it was assured they wouldn’t be found. This had been their most daring meeting yet with a garden full of fae just one level below. But in this moment they found it near impossible to care, both clearly desperate for each other after weeks apart.

They were not granted the privilege of being able to share their feelings in public, did not have the honour of being openly intimate whenever they pleased. They had been forced into shadowed corners and midnight affairs, the gentle grazes of skin as they passed each other by and weighted glances they traded across the room serving as small appetisers before they could be sated once again. Until they found themselves in each other’s embrace once more.

Clutching her firmly into his hard chest, Azriel’s broad hand paused on the small of her back, his nimble fingers inching their way down the smooth silk of her dress toward her behind.

Elain arched into him, silently urging his hands to move, touch, take. She fisted a handful of his hair in her fingers causing him to reluctantly tear his lips from her neck.

He pinned her with his heavy gaze, hazel eyes swirling with a hungry passion she had only ever witnessed when thrust upon her. A warm hum tingled low in her belly.

Nuzzling her nose to his, his cedar and mist scent turned headier, the air surrounding them becoming intoxicated with the fragrance of their mingled arousal.

“Azriel.” His name passed through her lips on a desperate, wanton breath.

She needn’t say anything else. From that single, uttered word, Azriel was able to discern her every desire. He knew. He tasted her need in the air between them, he sensed her arousal wafting around them like a bewitching mist. He understood her every gasp and twitch and whimper, as he too felt it deep within his soul.

His hot breath fanned across her face, his eyes flitting between hers before he gripped her plump behind in both of his palms and squeezed.

His rough hands groped her delicious curves, fingertips pressing into the plush flesh of her ass before they slid up her body, up her back and across her waist, marvelling in the feeling of the soft contours of her figure. 

Finally capturing her lips with his, Azriel held nothing back as he kissed her. His mouth was hot and bruising, his tongue tracing the curve of her lips before it stroked its way further along her jaw and back again. He groaned into her mouth, relishing in her sweet taste and softness, his hands remaining busy as they roamed across her body; grasping at her hips, her thighs.

Dragging his broad hands up around the sides of her waist, Azriel traced a thumb along the side of her breast through the thin material of her dress, and she couldn’t help but throw her head back at the inferno it ignited, breaking their kiss with a heavy pant.

She gasped, her eyes fluttering open and finding Azriel’s beautiful face, his eyes shimmering with want and lips swollen from their ministrations.

She wanted to kiss him for an eternity. Even longer. She’d give Azriel everything, and she knew he’d give her everything and more in return. 

She wanted to give him all of her and have every little piece of him for herself. And she knew once she did, once they traded those final pieces of themselves, she would never be the same again. She would be irrevocably changed, Azriel branding himself forever on her very soul, a scar she would never want to see fade.

But as she continued staring up into his magnificent face, the haze of their passion began to retreat, their minds clearing for just a moment, long enough for both of them to realise now was not the time…

They had already been gone for long enough and surely, they would have been missed. The spymaster was well aware of this, his shadows always watching, listening.

One day, they would be able to share more than a heated kiss in a quiet garden or an abandoned room. But for now, a small prince was waiting. And although it pained her to do so, they both needed to go. 

Clutching the lapels of his shirt, she dragged Azriel’s face down to hers once more, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. Elain allowed their tongues to tangle languidly, allowing one more taste of each other before they returned to their nephews’ party.

The regret in Azriel’s eyes never ceased to pain her. Every time they were forced apart, still needy and wanting, that look in his eyes was like a dagger to her heart. But he understood, he always understood.

His palm came up to cradle her cheek, his forehead once again resting against hers.

“I’ll find a way, Elain. I promise you.” It was barely a whisper, his voice rough with unanswered need.

His eyes shone with the hurt they both felt, and she knew it was reflected in her own. That after years of friendship, and months of these feelings of… something more, it pained her that they were only granted these fleeting, stolen moments.

“I know.” She reached up on her tiptoes and gave him one last, sweet kiss.

She didn’t doubt him for a second.

One day, they would be able to love each other openly as her sisters did their mates. One day, they wouldn’t be forced to pretend they were nothing more than friends. One day, their sleepless nights and agonised yearning would be nothing but a distant memory.

But for now, they’d remain in the shadows, those small touches and shy glances sustaining them until they could meet again.

*******

EM tag list:

If you’d like to be added/removed from my elriel month tag list, or I’ve somehow missed you, please let me know. T xo

@waternymphia

@shedoessoshedoes

@nightcourtseer

@tealeaves-and-rosepetals

@jasmineandshadows

@zdenkah

@dottielovegood

@casuallivi

@azrielslight

@ultadverb

@tswaney17

@batboyazriel

@duskwhisperer

@thoughtsaboutshows

@mardereads19

@a-frog-with-a-laptop

@123moiaussi

@reverie-tales

@britishwings

@glasscupsss

@gracie-rosee

@massiveattackangel

@thesistersarcheron

@dreamsandwings

@shadowflorecita

@elainsweetcobalt

@demarogue

@lesolehabitantdelalune

@elrielbaby

@happy-go-lucky-fangirl

@nivem565

@broodybatboy

@edanmaia

@booksnightowl

@saz-griffin

@elriel-month

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Hello! I have come asking for you to info-dump about the the modern human au. I full of brain rot of them (especially after the last thing you posted about them, damn) Maybe you can tell us a bit more Sally!!

lucky for you, i've been full of that good ol brainrot As Well! thoughts! feelings! ideas! i got em!

so since we're already on the subject of the Crash Arc, allow me to expand on it for a moment before i get to Sally Thinkings! if you've read the snippet, you may have noticed the extent of Wally's injuries was not listed yet. well! he got messed up with a capital F! since it's fiction and i'm god in this scenario, i'm veering slightly away from realistic damage, immediate & lasting. bc lets be real. if i stuck to "this is as realistic as i can make it", then Wally would be aaaaaabsolutely fucked. it was a bad crash in a very unsafe vehicle at high speeds. like - this is what happened. a drunk driver hit Home going 70 down the freeway. swerve, fishtail, tumble down a (small, shallow, really its more like a glorified ditch) ravine with trees and rocks and shit on it. absolute miracle that Wally didn't die in the crash, let alone during the solid half hour (slightly longer) he was trapped in Home before someone noticed the crash site and called emergency personnel. Wally "hanging up" on Barnaby was actually the impact jarring him so he slipped and hit the end call button. but yeah without going into technicalities and detail, Wally has some lasting damage in his dominant hand. It takes extensive physical therapy for him to be able to paint/draw again at the same level he had been at. the hematoma hadn't done a lot of brain damage that wouldn't resolve itself with time. in my mind, when Wally wakes up in the hospital, for a few days he's very confused and his memory is shot. he'll wake up, interact, then go to sleep, but when he wakes up again its like waking up for the first time again. he just can't retain memories for a bit. he's got some severe brain fog. his mood is also kinda fucked with - he's uncharacteristically irritable with low patience, etc. these are all things that clear up with time, but in my mind Wally has chronic migraines going forward. bad ones! and there are days where it's harder fr him to concentrate. and yk. a teeny bit of chronic pain where his shin bone was pinned back together and where his hand was essentially crushed. but other than that he's fine going forward! good days and bad days!

but enough about that! You Want To Hear About Sally!

i imagine that she becomes quite successful in the theater industry. i'm not too familiar with it myself, so i'm gonna be uh. Vague about it? but she starts her own theater troupe - it's a bit of a commute from home base to the town she works in, where the theater is located in, but she makes it work! of the group, she's probably away more than any of them. working on shows, traveling to work on other ones - i like to think she's been on Broadway! she probably has had opportunities to do tv/movie acting, but idk... i feel like Sally would be like "nah. live shows or nothing". maybe at some point she takes up voice acting gigs, as long as she can do them from home. she probably has her own little room-turned-VA-studio thing. idk how that works either! it seems right! but yes Howdy's store's automated messages and advertisements are in Sally's voice. she's probably picked up a temporarily modeling gig here and there.

so Sally is very very busy. Poppy is supportive. everyone is, and they all love to help out when they can - and reel Sally in when the "stardom" starts to get to her head. they do their best to acclimate to occasionally getting jumpscared by her voice in a grocery store or in. idk. fashion shoots. victoria's secret billboards. that last one was a joke! maybe. i think she would.

i also like to imagine Sally like... getting some sort of award and then spending a solid five minutes naming her friends, thanking them with specificity, and then plugging their own stuff. they probably have a rotation for who accompanies her as her plus one for events and parties she may or may not be invited to. she's not like... a Big celebrity but! she's Known and Liked! she has Connections! i like to imagine her and Wally looking dapper as fuck at a Venue...

so the friend group typically stays together, with Sally going off to do her Things the most. she makes sure to schedule time to be with her friends and girlfriend/wife/Poppy between work and gigs and etc. she somehow finds a balance with Ease. or apparent ease... someone get this girl a vacation...

[mariejordans]

I started to read a fic about a limoreau road trip to Jordan’s home town for their parents anniversary and I didn’t finish it but can’t find it again HELP the brain rot is real !!!??!

ANON THE FIC IS ARE U MINE? BY GEORGIATHEWHOLEDAYTHROUGH ON AO3 ITS SO GOOD

i love a good road trip fic AND its fake dating (kinda??? not technically but it has the VIBES) it’s sooooo good!

[khaleesiofalicante]

I did seven chapters omg??? Now I have a flight to catch, I’ll do the rest in the sky hehe 😉

[bonchobrick]

Hi hi vee here!! The jason is a dumbass who forgets to tell his family he’s a fright knight is out now on ao3!! (from this original post)

Thanks everyone for the support <3 — the new chapter 2 has been released!! You can check it out there :D

Chapter two is follows Jason and Danny the night after the ‘terrifying’ ghost attack in which Jason realizes—ah, he might’ve fucked up a bit.

—

Tags (i love yall sm mwah) so so sorry if i messed up and you didn't want to be tagged im new to tumblr and dont really get this but its fun :P

@canthejustboremetodeath @anonymousf28 @asphyxia778 @justwannabecat @apointlessbox @choppedphantomsweets @666deaddash999 @undead-essence @readingalldaysleepingallnight @space-dreams-world @nixthenerd @thegatorsgoose @thatonegaybitch68 @idfk-man10 @some-rotten-nest @kisatamao @enderglace @halfalix @rainbowsofa @stargirl1331 @silverheartlugia2000 @friends-fam-fiends-hellothere @malice-of-the-sunrise @boo-ghosties

[frstcorinthians]

And just like that grad week is done and I’m living on island time baby

[kmomof4]

Destination Dream Weddings, Driving Disasters, & Dented Derrieres: A Fic Collaboration Between @kmomof4 @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose and @jrob64

Hello everyone!!! We are back again!!! After the fun we had turning last year's trip into a fic, we decided to do the same with this years Girls Vacay!

Summary: Picking up one year after last year's fic collaboration - Cave Cruises, Cabin Capers, & Cracked Craniums - the six couples and Roland meet on St. Simons Island off the coast of Georgia for Mary Margaret and David’s dream wedding.

Rating: T

Words: Almost 4800 of approx 21k

On ao3 and ff.net

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it

Emma Swan was truly glad that they were finally on the road and making progress toward their destination. While attempting to leave the previous morning, Elsa had needed to say goodbye to Liam “just once more”, visit the restroom again, and they’d had to rearrange the luggage to fit something else in, as well as call to coordinate with the other members of their friend group numerous times, before they’d actually set out on their travels. Liam needed to lead one more previously scheduled Lake Michigan boat tour before he could follow them from Chicago to Bowling Green, Kentucky.  After a long day of driving, an exuberant reunion with Emma’s dashing and altogether irresistible boyfriend- whom she hadn’t seen in months- and a good night’s sleep in his arms, they were all back on the road again, Liam and Elsa following in his Expedition with Graham and Will in the back seat. 

Now that they were rolling down the highway, wheels on the pavement and making good time toward Georgia, she felt much of her frustration melting away. It had been well past time for a break from her job - even loving it as much as she did - and a few hours of girl talk in the car with Elsa. But now having Killian in the seat beside her, their fingers intertwined where hers rested on the gearshift of her vintage yellow VW, made all the difference in the world. Though she wouldn’t want to admit it to most people, her stomach still fluttered at his nearness with all the excitement and joy of their first date, even a year into their relationship.

She had been pleasantly surprised by how easily Killian had acquiesced to being her navigator and co-pilot rather than trying to take over driving duties himself. She had dated a few guys who would have been unwilling to allow her to take control on the road, and would have had their masculinity insulted if she insisted on driving. Killian had simply taken her hand gallantly, bent over it to kiss her knuckles playfully - much as he’d done the first time they’d met - and helped her into her seat, before rounding the front to get into the seat beside her. “As you wish, Emma Love,” he’d agreed gamely. “It is your chariot which awaits us after all.” Since then, he’d proven to be a very apt and helpful navigator, more so than “the Google Woman” whom he had groused at repeatedly for offering them longer trip times and trying to take them on unwanted scenic detours. She couldn’t help but laugh when Killian managed to find a reroute that shaved fifteen minutes from their drive time and then berated the automated navigator proudly. 

As glad as she had been having Elsa to keep her company on their way to Lost River Caves to pick up the guys, Emma was thrilled to have a little time with just Killian now.  He launched into some story from a recent tour group they’d seen through the caves, and she marveled again at how seamlessly they had navigated into being a couple - even with the physical distance between them. Warmth swelled in her chest and a small voice in her head whispered just how happy it made her that he was hers and she was his - when not so very long ago she wouldn’t have believed such a thing was possible.

She knew that Elsa was equally glad to be back with Liam, despite being apart for just a few hours. Though her friend and Killian’s older brother were both more quietly reserved in their affection, since they had eloped in the spring, they were nearly inseparable unless parting was absolutely necessary - and only then for as short a time as possible. The other members of their group were easy to spot in Liam’s stuffed-to-the-gills SUV as they all traveled to meet the rest of their friends for David and Mary Margaret’s week long nuptial celebration, culminating with their wedding the following weekend on St. Simon’s Island off the Georgia coast. 

For several hours they made decent time, passing from Kentucky to Tennessee and into western Georgia without a hitch. They’d texted back and forth from one vehicle to the other about roadside billboards seen, accompanying commentary that those in the opposite car would enjoy, and when to stop for gas and a restroom break. 

Emma was just settling into a calm stretch of highway and feeling as though they had thankfully reached the last leg of the journey, when dark, jagged detritus reared up in her vision spread across all three lanes. Not even sure what it was, Emma let out a shocked cry, veering as best she could without swiping the traffic on either side of her, in an attempt to avoid the worst of whatever had seemingly exploded on the interstate.

“Well done, Lass!” Killian congratulated - a bit too soon as it turned out, when a moment later a loud thump sounded and their tire and the car’s undercarriage undoubtedly made contact with some of the debris Emma had hoped to miss. If the sound hadn’t alerted them, the jolt they felt could not be ignored. Once they were past the area, Killian breathed out a deep sigh, looking back over his shoulder at the road behind them. “I think someone violently blew their tire, Swan. I doubt anyone could have missed that mess entirely; you really are quite the captain.”

“Learned from the best,” she sassed back at him with a wink, rubbing her thumb over the back of his hand affectionately. A moment passed silently as they both calmed down after the alarm of the past few moments. “Still,” she finally added, “just for peace of mind, maybe we should pull over, check the tire pressure, and be sure there wasn’t any damage done the next time we see an exit with a service station.”

“Aye,” Killian agreed. “Good plan. I’ll let the others know.”

Neither of them felt that the car was riding any differently, and Emma accepted that she was probably being overcautious, but the Bug had been with her a long time - longer than any other person or thing, in all honesty - and she wanted to make sure all was as it should be so it could hang in there with her a few years more. Killian texted their intentions to Elsa, got an assurance that the other group would stop as well, and soon they were exiting off the interstate and pulling into a Chevron station, stopping near the air pumps in case they needed them.

Unfortunately, though it hadn’t been apparent on the road, when they pulled into the lot, it was obvious serious damage had been done. Emma hadn’t even made it around the car before Killian was trying to slow her progress, hands gently cradling her shoulders as if to brace her for impact. “Now Swan, don’t get too upset. It’s not as bad as it may look at first.”

She didn’t like the sound of that at all, and coupled with the horrified look on Elsa’s face as their friends had parked alongside them and gotten their own glimpse of Emma’s front passenger tire, it was far from comforting. Nudging her well-meaning boyfriend to the side, Emma rounded her car only to groan and feel an almost irresistible urge to kick the curb repeatedly in frustration. Her tire wasn’t just a little low - it was completely flat! How had they not felt that?!? How had they managed to avoid wrecking her beloved Beetle?

“Great! Now what?” She couldn’t help the snap in her voice as she threw up her hands and let them slap back down against her jean-clad thighs exasperatedly. “We’re due to meet everyone at our rental cottage in two hours. I never paid to join AAA, so it’ll cost a fortune to get anyone else out here to tow us to a repair shop - if they even come within the next century! And - ” She was just gathering up steam to continue on her rant, when she looked around her, realizing that everyone else looked either pitying, rather bemused, or down right biting back laughter at her expense.

“Ya do know we could just change the tire ourselves, don’tcha?” Will suggested cheekily, shrugging as if it wasn’t any big deal. 

“You say that like it’s so easy,” Emma grumbled, narrowing her eyes at him. “The jack never wants to work right, or the lugnuts are screwed on too tightly to remove by hand - not to mention that my cheap little doughnut spare is hardly what we want to be driving on for long.”

“It ain’t all that difficult neither,” Will insisted, giving her a more genuine smile, and taking in the other guys in turn as if to garner their agreement. Killan wasn’t about to get in the middle of this little debate, nor would he side against his lovely Swan, but not hearing much support had yet to deter Will Scarlet when he got an idea in his head. He stepped right up to the passenger side, with a “Budge over, won’t cha?” to Emma, before crouching down for a closer look and then asking for the wrench to begin loosening the lug nuts.

Well used to Will’s good intentioned but often accident prone brand of assistance, Elsa looked to Emma uncertainly from where she stood, cell phone in hand, rather surprised at having had Will brush past her and move into action. “Should I still call for a tow, just in case?” she asked meekly.

Graham snorted and shook his head, sharing a grin with Killian as he spoke up. “No, don’t worry over it yet. Will might just manage this, and we’re all here to help if he needs it.” 

The Jones brothers nodded their consensus, even as Will let out an indignant, “Oi! Some friends the lot of you are! Try to do something nice for a person, and this is the thanks I get? No one even believes I can change a tire!”

Shaking his head and muttering to himself, he put each of the lug nuts into Emma’s waiting hand, while Killian went to fetch the spare tire from her trunk, despite his supposed unbelief in his friend’s capabilities. Rolling the tire with him, he brought the jack to Will, who slid it under the car’s frame to what seemed the appropriate spot. Soon the car was rising, one slow increment at a time, Will now carrying on to himself about the cheap manufacture of the jack in Emma’s kit and how awkwardly constructed the jack’s crank was for anyone to operate. 

Suddenly, without warning, there was a frightening screech that brought yelps of surprise and dismay from all of them. The car lurched sickeningly back and to the right and then to the ground, landing precariously with the wheel sticking out and only partially off the lugs which held it in place. If the sight had looked pathetic before, it was now even more so. 

“Will!” Emma yelled before she could stop herself. “You’re making things worse!” 

Will picked himself up from where he’d ended up on his backside, rubbing the tender spot where he’d landed atop the discarded wrench when he’d quickly moved to avoid being hit by the shifting vehicle. He shot Emma a rather grumpy look. “Well your precious classic isn’t exactly a model of perfection anymore. The wheel didn’t come off as smoothly as it might’ve. This flimsy excuse for a jack is a piece of junk! Bloody thing bent and that’s what made the car fall!” he snarled back.

At this point, Killian took pity on his mate and crouched down beside him to help. Between the two of them, they cranked the jack back down, managed to reposition it further under the car’s chassis and cranked it up once more, finding they could get it even just a little bit higher. This time, with Killian carefully bracing the jack so it wouldn’t shift, Will managed to wrangle the ruined tire from the VW and get the spare into place. All of them cheered heartily, along with letting out several deep breaths of relief, and Will’s friends were all patting him on the back in turn. 

After that, they managed to avoid any more mishaps and were finally able to get on the road again. Emma even gave Will a quick hug and apologized for snapping at him, giving him a teasing kiss on the cheek and declaring him her knight in tarnished armor. 

“And what about me, Swan? I did have some role in his eventual success,” Killian prompted as they got back into the car and began to carefully back out of their parking spot. He waggled his eyebrows at her mischievously, tapping two fingers against his lips and waiting in expectation. “Perhaps some gratitude might be in order?”

She was tempted to tease him back, make him wait until they arrived at their final destination, but she was too relieved to be back on the road and with her dearly loved VW still in one piece to hold out on him. Leaning over the console briefly, she gave him a quick peck on the lips, brushing her nose along his cheek for a moment and smiling warmly. “Hold onto that thought for later,” she purred. “And thank you too, of course -  my real hero.”

~*~*~

“Oh, isn’t it beautiful?!” Mary Margaret exclaimed as David pulled into the driveway of their home for the next week. They’d just dropped off Belle and Ruby at the cottage next door, after driving the past two days from Portland, Maine and then New York City, where Ruby lived. With all the actual wedding preparations on her plate, Mary Margaret was ever so grateful that David had been in charge of the logistics of their respective annual guys and girls trip this year. Since they were planning a summer wedding with all of their friends comprising the wedding party, Mary Margaret had the idea for them to join their two respective groups again - to commemorate how they all met the previous summer - before marrying the love of her life at the end of the week. Mary Margaret hadn’t even seen pictures of  the rental David had reserved for them, and she was blown away by the quaint romanticism of the cottage in front of her. 

Fairy lights were draped along the eaves of the wraparound front porch, which boasted plentiful seating, in addition to the wicker sectional around a romantic firepit next to the driveway where they were parked. They climbed the steps to the porch and typed in the code to unlock the door. Mary Margaret gasped as they stepped inside. The interior was just as lovely as the exterior. Soaring ceilings and tall windows coupled with nautical and beach decor in soft blues and warm creams created a space that was as inviting as it was relaxing. To the left of the door they’d just entered was an open air kitchen and eat-in dining area, while on their right was the living room, with two bedrooms and a bath in between them on the other side of the large welcoming space. 

“How do you like it, Sweetheart?” David asked, a wide smile on his face. He knew his bride well enough to know that she’d love just about anywhere he picked as long as they were together, but he felt his heart skip a little as he finally laid eyes on the charming bungalow. 

“I love it!” she exclaimed, spinning toward him and hugging him tightly. “It’s so light and airy with all this room.” She released him and moved into the kitchen area. “Coffee maker, gas stove, microwave,” she listed, opening and closing the cabinets to see how stocked the kitchen was. She was pleased to find plenty of dishes, condiments, and pots and pans for cooking. Not to mention the terribly organized junk drawer filled with all the unthought of but sometimes necessary things that come up occasionally - scissors, twist ties, Ziploc bags, a small sewing kit, pens, and pads of paper.

“Our room is over the garage,” David informed her. “Come on.” 

She followed him out the side door of the kitchen into the garage and was immediately greeted with a closed door on the other side of a very small landing. David opened the door and they ascended the stairs to the room above. Mary Margaret gasped again when they entered the room. Small lamps on either side of the king-sized bed cast the room in a soft warm glow. Scattered across the cream colored bedspread were red and pink rose petals with a string of pink lights draped from the four posts at the corners of the bed. There was a crystal vase on the low dresser across from where they stood filled with red roses next to a silver tray with an ice bucket holding a bottle of champagne and twin flutes.

Mary Margaret launched herself into David’s arms, kissing him passionately. Given that they were the first ones to the cottage and no one else was expected for at least a couple of hours, she drew him further into the room, determined to show him just how much she loved him and how ready she was to be his wife.

~*~*~

Mary Margaret descended the stairs some time later, to find Robin, Regina, and Roland entering the cottage. Loud exclamations of joy and delight came from the ladies as they rushed toward each other and embraced. Robin grinned as he held Roland back for a moment from joining the heartfelt reunion. As soon as the friends released one another, he let go of his son, who ran as fast as his small legs could carry him to all but tackle Mary Margaret.

“Aunty M’s!” he cried, as she picked him up and spun around with him in her arms.

“Hi there, Roly Poly,” she said, hugging him tightly.

“I hear a little boy in my cottage!” David’s voice boomed as he descended the stairs. “Where’s my Roland?”

“Uncle David!” Roland cried, squirming to get down. 

David laughed and picked up the small boy. “You act like you haven’t seen me in a month instead of a few days,” he said. 

Roland shrugged. “I’m just happy to see you and Aunty M’s.”

David smiled fondly at Mary Margaret. “We’re happy to see you too, Roly Poly.” He ruffled Roland’s curls and put him down, approaching Robin and Regina to exchange enthusiastic hugs and handshakes. “Y’all’s room is back here. I’ll show you,” he said, turning the corner out of the kitchen and down a short hallway to the master bedroom. He flipped on the lights and let the others precede him into the large room. 

“You should have the master,” Robin protested. “It’s your wedding after all.”

David shook his head. “We wanted the room above the garage so we wouldn’t have to worry about disturbing anyone else. Plus, this room had the child’s bed in here,” he said, motioning to the huge walk-in closet that not only had plenty of room for clothes and shoes, but also housed a small bed and dresser. “I didn’t figure you’d want to be too far from him at night.”

“You guessed correctly,” Robin replied. “Where’s the rest of the group? Shouldn’t they be here by now? I thought they were leaving earlier than we were.”

“Emma got a flat and that put them behind just a bit. I think they’ll be here in about an hour.”

Regina exchanged a nervous glance with Robin. “Oh, man…” she trailed away uncertainly. “We’ve been putting Roland off stopping for food the last couple of hours, promising him we’d get dinner with everyone once we arrived. Adding another hour - or more - might be a bridge too far.”

“Roland,” Robin said, poking his head in the closet to find his son jumping up and down on the bed contained within. He immediately stopped, a guilty look on his face when his father appeared and frowned at him. “You know better than that, young man. It’s dangerous. And besides, this bed is not yours. It belongs to the person who owns this cottage. You do anything to damage any of the furniture and you will be in big trouble. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Papa.”

Robin nodded. “Everyone else won’t be here for about another hour. Can you wait that long for dinner, or do you want a snack?”

He climbed down from the bed and took Robin’s hand. “A snack, please.”

“Alright, let’s go, then.”

Killian and Emma arrived not quite an hour later. Killian, trying mightily to contain his laughter and failing miserably, told them that Liam and Elsa were next door, dropping off Will and Graham. As he and Emma were pulling into this driveway, they could see Will, carrying his luggage, hadn’t time to brace himself before Belle threw herself at him, toppling him in the process. He’d landed on his butt again, but Killian didn’t think he minded all that much as he returned Belle’s ardent kisses. 

It was just a few minutes later that Liam and Elsa arrived. After another round of enthusiastic greetings, with Mary Margaret and Regina exclaiming over the beautiful wedding ring set Liam and Elsa wore, the newcomers adjourned to their respective rooms to unpack and relax for a little while before regrouping to decide where to go for dinner.

Mary Margaret came back to the bedrooms containing the other two couples almost thirty minutes later. She was about to knock on the door on the left when she heard Liam and Elsa talking in low voices inside.

“Should we say anything yet?” Elsa asked.

“I don’t think so,” Liam replied. “This week is to celebrate David and Mary Margaret. I don’t think we should take away from that. We can announce it after the wedding.”

Mary Margaret’s eyes got wide and her brow furrowed in thought. What could Elsa and Liam’s secret be, and was it good news or bad? From the tone of their voices, she couldn’t help but speculate that it was good. A smile grew on her face as she imagined the possibilities.

“Time to circle up and decide where we want to eat dinner,” she called, knocking on one bedroom door and then the other. “Come on.” She turned around and went back into the living room to find the rest of their group sitting around waiting for the last two couples.

She entered to uproarious laughter, Ruby grinning unrepentantly, and Graham’s face aflame. “What’d I miss?” she asked, sitting on the arm of the chair David was in.

“Will here was complaining about the noise,” Ruby began, her eyes dancing mischievously, “and I was just explaining that we were only doing what the sign said. Did you all see the Speed Hump sign just before the cottage? Since we had some time before coming over to decide about dinner… we did.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “And it’s not like you were twiddling your thumbs and trying to plug your ears while we were busy, anyway,” she said to Will, causing both he and Belle to blush furiously. Everyone howled again, Mary Margaret, Emma, Killian, Liam and Elsa - who’d just arrived in the room - included. 

“What’s so funny?” Roland asked, coming in.

Regina tried to put on a serious face and motioned him over, picking him up and placing him on her lap. “Nothing, baby. Don’t you worry about it. Now, where are we going to eat? I don’t know about the rest of you, but I do not want to have to drive far.”

“And I’m liable to fall asleep before we get our food if we don’t go very soon,” Elsa added, smothering a yawn with her hand.

Fortunately, David had already done some research, and from print and online reviews, as well as word of mouth, he’d found a well-loved island gem right around the corner from the cottages that apparently wasn’t to be missed.

They all agreed and left to pile into the respective vehicles.

~*~*~

It was a pleasant evening with a cool, gentle breeze blowing as they pulled into the parking lot of the Southern Soul Bar-B-Q and began walking toward the entrance. As they came around to the front of the white painted brick structure, Regina pulled up short, bringing Robin to a stop as well since their hands were joined. “Wait just one second,” she spoke up, her polished voice expressing the exact measure of disdain which served her so well as a practicing lawyer. “This is the famed establishment you’ve been talking about?” she addressed David with arch disbelief. “I am not about to sit down for a good meal in what looks more like a gas station than anything else!”

The rest of them paused, not sure how to counter her logic. The place’s appearance from the outside didn’t quite look like what any of them had expected, but the rest of them were generally a lot more easy going in their tastes and were willing to trust the local reputation and let their taste buds, rather than their eyes be the judge. 

Robin, however, had clearly learned how best to proceed with his regal girlfriend in the time since they had all been together last. He moved closer to Regina, whispering low, cajoling words in her ear, and though the rest of them couldn’t make them out, the tone was clearly doing its job at melting her usually rather inflexible demeanor. And if that hadn’t been enough, there was the added secret weapon of little Roland. When Robin’s young son tugged on her hand, urging sweetly with his open, dimpled smile and adoring brown eyes gazing up at her, there was no way even her sophisticated queen persona could hold out against his, “Come on, Miss Gina, let’s try it! I think it looks like fun.”  

Between the two Locksley men turning their charm on her, Regina finally capitulated and followed the rest of them inside.

Despite any initial reservations, they were presented with a feast of authentic Southern sides like Brunswick stew, Hoppin’ John, and hushpuppies to accompany the variety of brisket, pulled pork and ribs they ordered. Will had insisted on trying the Knuckle Sammich, and Regina had finally settled on a chicken strip basket similar to the child’s version they got Roland, deeming it unlikely she’d be able to order much of anything else which wouldn’t have either sauce or juice dripping off of it.

It wasn’t long before Ruby and Graham drew attention to their end of the table when he attempted to feed her brisket by hand. She’d stared him down sultrily, a glimmer of seduction in her dark eyes before delicately nibbling the morsel he offered her. All would have been fine if she’d stopped there, but that wasn’t Ruby’s style. Instead she’d held her boyfriend’s gaze and then wrapped her bright red lips around his fingers, bringing her tongue into the action as well, and slowly dragging them along his calloused skin as if enjoying a succulent treat. Graham flushed all over as red as her signature shade and seemed to be having a little trouble even drawing breath. He’d started a fire that he wasn’t capable of keeping under control, and clearly he knew it. Sputtering for some sort of response, he quickly pulled his hand away when Ruby released him, glancing around nervously as if afraid their friends might be judging them. “I know I sorta asked for that, Babe,” he murmured under his breath, “but there’s a kid at the table, for crying out loud!”

Unabashed, Ruby merely shrugged her shoulders at him, and grinned at the table as a whole. Her friends knew her well, and were largely unfazed by her brazen behavior at this point. 

Nearly an hour later, they were stuffed and ready for home and their beds. David laughingly joked that Mary Margaret would have to roll him back to their rental to sleep off the meal, but it was a delicious close to day one of their reunion.

~*~*~

Notes:

Welcome to our 2024 Girls' Trip fic! This year, as I'm sure you've already deduced, Krystal, Joni, Marta, and Jen travelled to St. Simons Island, Savannah, and Jekyll Island, Georgia. Along the way, we met up at various times with Giennie and Randi as well. When a group of fic writers get together, naturally, every event is seen through the lens of "how can we fic this?" While normally we'd be looking for ways to turn our adventures into Captain Swan stories alone, we had a lot of characters to work with this year! (Truth be told, most moments were seen through the lens of "How can we comically whump Will with this?" or "What kind of innuendo would Ruby make about that?") As last year, we'd like to give you some idea of what we took from our actual experiences and what we chalked up to creative license.

While a small detail in the fic, the need for creative packing was real with us! It took Jen, her dad and Joni (with Bear supervising) to figure it out on the way there and Krystal and her family (with Minnie supervising) on the way home.

You might think Killian’s frustration with the “Google woman” was a call back to his lack of knowledge of technology in canon, but it was indeed a factor in our trip. Jen’s GPS seemed to have a mind of its own and routinely offered alternate routes that added significant time to the drive.

Regrettably, the “driving disaster” was rather close to real life. On the way to Savannah, Jen was not able to avoid the debris from a blown semi tire strewn across all three lanes and got a flat as a result. Joni tried valiantly to come to the rescue and change the tire, but the jack did, indeed twist and the car fell. Luckily a couple of Good Samaritans helped us out and got us back on the road, all in one piece. (And Jen’s new vehicle seems no worse for the wear.) 

The description of the rental house was true to life–with a bit of creative license taken. As there were four of us and the cottage had four bedrooms, we didn’t rent a second cottage. Marta stayed in the room we gave David and Mary Margaret, but in reality it had two queen sized beds rather than one, and there were no rose petals or romantic candle light. The walk-in closet of the master bedroom contained a high chair and changing table rather than a child’s bed for Roland.

There was indeed a sign warning of Speed Humps on the road in front of our cottage. Naturally, we decided Ruby would run with that.

Southern Soul B-B-Q is a real restaurant only a couple miles from our rental that is apparently highly acclaimed, but we never made it there on our trip. We were struck by the fact that it clearly used to be a gas station and decided Regina would balk at that.

Thank you for reading and sharing! We'd love to know what you think! Stay tuned for day two of the character's adventures posting on Thursday. In the next chapter, they explore St. Simons Island.

[the-navistar-carol]

Final "Aftershocks" chapter, up now!

Kelly "Vacay" Savannah, Weapons Systems Officer, has been called back to Top Gun years after her graduation, about a mission she knows nothing whatsoever of. Luckily, she's not alone. Her frontseater Marisol "Floodgate" Carter, has been called back, too. OR: Two more people join the Dagger Squad. Not a lot changes, but nothing is the same.

Edited for the last time (in this fic) by @zee-has-commitment-issues! I could not have done this without them. Go send them an unhinged Young Royals ask.

It was the problem that came with being an aviator. Even seasoned as they were – even as best-of-the-best as they knew they were – they would always be chasing the impossible. Chasing the sun.

Read now on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41581620/chapters/142947184

Taglist: @missezri

[amaranthdahlia]

any good ichinii fanfic recommendations?? Or at least fanfics set in time of the rebellion against AFO??

ooo !!!! i made a twitter thread about this a while back. though its just a mini thread so theres not alot in it😞😞 (hopefully u havent read all of the things i listed lolol)

but heres some others i didnt include in the thread, since kdch is moreso a backround/implied/poly ship in it instead (putting it under the bracket just to not make ppl scroll down too much dslkaf)

i think most of these r yoichi centric too cus. yeah

[fancymuffinparty]

Erehisu SFW Headcanon ask: Vacations

Shipping Headcanons Ask meme! Number 15: Vacation ideas: who decides them? Where would they go, if anywhere? For Erehisu!!! Thank you, thank you!!! :D

Oooh Historia plans most of their vacations, but she gives Eren options so he has a say in their ventures, often in the form of brochures or super detailed itineraries. (I get a kick out of the idea of them using their respective fathers' money to fund their globe-trotting escapades, too! lol) They would travel all over Europe, but specifically western Europe. For romance, art, and unique culinary experiences, they go to France (Paris or Nice). For adventure, mountainous escapes, and shopping they opt for Switzerland or Belgium. I also fancy Germany (Berlin) and Austria (Vienna) as another destination for these lovebirds. Only top-tier accommodations of course; five star hotels and fine dining (per Historia!) BUUUUT Eren drags her into the occasional divey pub/bar/beer hall in the Alpine countries because they always have the best selection of booze and it's always a blast. (Lots of dancing and letting loose with the locals!) I headcanon that Historia speaks some German so she's always adored in the motherland lol

[hai-nae]

some wips, n a finished indulgent au idea for alt carrying/travel. detail extra bc grogu must be seen fully, i actually nailed his cuteness! woo

also ya know, that 😏

[sweetestofchaos]

Can I get a drabble for namjoon x reader, and they’re on vacation? Just enjoying time with each other and the beach

Thank you for sending in the drabble request. It didn't follow the rules since it didn't have a prompt choice, but I still wrote it because it was a cute idea. Hope you like is bestie.

namjoon and you are finally able to get away and just be with each other

p. namjoon x reader

r. teen

wc. 499

w. fluff, kissing

Your laughter fills the space around Namjoon as he tries not to trip over himself while walking in the sand. He holds his shoes in one hand and his other is laced with yours. The afternoon breeze sends the bottom of your dress flapping around, tangling around Namjoon’s leg closest to you. The poor man is fighting for his life on this walk and you are beside him laughing. He doesn’t mind, not one bit. He enjoys your laughter, he wishes he could bottle it up and turn it into his own personal scent. Something that will always remind him of you no matter how far he goes.

“Oh!”

Your excited shout makes Namjoon trip over himself and he nearly eats sand but catches himself. You are no longer by his side, but instead squatting down by the water’s edge. He carefully walks over to see what caught your attention. He doesn’t see anything at first but once he squats beside you, he sees the tiny shells moving in the sand. How you saw them so easily he will never know. Namjoon likes to joke that you have something more than 20/20 vision.

“Joonie, look how cute!”

Namjoon smiles, completely in love and his heart feels light. You had said that this vacation would be good for the both of you and you are right. Namjoon doesn’t remember the last time he breathed this easily or flet the sand between his toes. 

“Do you want to hold one?” Namjoon questions and you nod your head excitedly. 

Carefully, Namjoon manages to grab one of the hermit crabs and cups it in his hands.

“Put your hands together, babe.”

You do as you're told and Namjoon settles the tiny creature into your hands. His large hands support yours from the bottom and you want to scream in pure joy. The little hermit crab’s legs tickle as it crawls around in your hands but it doesn’t try to get away. The heat from Namjoon’s hands is soothing and you press a knee into his as you stare at his profile.

Namjoon looks at you with a raised eyebrow and you smile, “I’m really happy right now. I wish we never had to leave.”

Namjoon’s dimples appear in full force and he leans closer, his nose brushing your ear. “I am the happiest when I’m with you, wherever we are.”

“Such a poet.”

Namjoon chuckles and steals a sweet kiss, making you jump in surprise and drop the hermit crab into his hands. Namjoon grins against your lips and lets the tiny creature free before he pulls you into his arms and settles you in his lap. The water wets both your bottoms but neither one of you cares as you stare into each other’s eyes.

“I love you.” Namjoon cups the side of your face and traces his thumb over the apple of your eye.

“I love you.” You find yourself whispering as Namjoon leans in to kiss you once more.

[randomfoggytiger]

"Regardless of His Actions Last Night"

(Fictober, Day 2)

Queequeg may have been an undisciplined little puffball allergic to six different brands of dog food, an indoor voice, and the realization of the near fatal consequences of his choice to chase after an alligator, but a disagreeable traveling companion (Scully asserted) he was not. 

Her mother managed him more during the last two years than she did-- not that Scully was thrilled with her own negligence, but the demands of the job kept her hopping from car to plane and coast to coast-- and had happily lugged Queequeg around with her wherever she went (empty-nester and solitary widow that she was.) As such, he was quite the seasoned traveler; and Maggie boasted about him so often that her daughter decided to bring him along on a much-needed vacation.  

So, one fine morning-- wind whipping through his fur as he tried to stretch his head further above the convertible door-- Queequeg found himself cruising shotgun along the highway, alive and dangerous and as eager for trouble as Scully was to escape it. 

*****

Scully could barely hear Mulder’s impish finger-wagging over the phone while Queequeg growled and barked and lunged ineffectually in his seat at a random cat lounging, unbothered, by the gas station entrance. 

“Queequeg, no-- no, he hasn’t, Mulder; and he won’t. He’s a good dog. Queequeg! Stop that.” 

Mulder made sure to caveat his very important statistic on vehicular decapitation with a cheeky footnote: "But I don't know if the data applies to two-foot cannibals, Scully. And if my guess is correct, it’s because those statisticians were clever enough to leave their yappers at home.”  

“I think you got the height of the yappers mixed up, Mulder.” And she hit the end button, hypothesizing that Queequeg was likely just hungry. “Lunch,” she muttered, glad that there was no one else around to be bothered until she’d paid and left. 

*****

Queequeg almost broke from Scully's grasp, yanking the full length of the leash in his attempts to run across the parking lot. His earlier disgruntled yaps shifted to lapdog spit-snarls; and he completely ignored her commands until one of the inconspicuous cars pulled out and away, a girl and her doll staring back blankly from their window. He calmed then, victorious; and followed Scully placidly to the door. 

Where they found chaos. 

While Scully attempted to sort the mayhem of injured, moaning customers and the arriving, superstitiously inclined cops, Queequeg licked the blood dripping off the hand of the most unfortunate victim a little too eagerly.

***** 

At the police station, Scully split her attention in half: disproving Mulder’s assumptions of her assumptions (and deflecting his overblown proposal) while simultaneously keeping her eye on Queequeg. Contented after chowing down his premium soggy lunch and bored from satisfying all his curiosities around the office, he clicked his little nails over to a pile of coats someone left for him and plunked eagerly down for an afternoon nap. She watched longingly as the little dog relaxed, not a care in the world as he stretched and shifted.

A bath. That would hit the spot. A long one. 

Hopefully Queequeg wouldn’t find something dirty and inconvenient to stick his nose into before the weekend was over. 

*****

The next morning, Scully had to leave him moaning and wailing outside the crime scene with a buoyantly even-keeled police officer. By the time her and Jack Bonsaint’s theories were interrupted by Mulder’s opportune phone call, Queequeg's howls had shifted from woefully complaining to bitterly angry. 

“I’m not going to feel sorry for him, Scully. He ate my Christmas hat.” 

“Might I remind you,” she replied, shoving one hand up to cover her other ear, “that you left it on the floor with your running clothes after I’d warned you he likes to sniff out and chew dirty socks?” 

The argument, they both knew, was unproductive: Mulder only clung to this particular grievance because the Lone Gunman still made snide remarks about him ‘tossing aside the gift of friendship’ every time they met up (especially Frohike, who had taken one look at the pin-striped monstrosity he'd called “a runner’s cap” and knew Mulder would like it. He had.) 

“Yeah? What about that new silk pajama set he tore into?” 

“I don’t know--” there was a short pause as Scully walked back outside and hunched down, “--ask him.” 

Queequeg bellowed full force into the phone. 

Mulder got the message. 

*****

The rest of the investigation was a repeat of their normal cohabitation-- Scully was roped into work and Queequeg was forced to stay behind with a third party. Mulder, of course, did not lose sight of that fact on their last call, teasing her about being a woman of routine.

He stopped the ribbing, however, when she didn't respond to his other banter. “Scully? You there?”

She shook her head, trying to catch the thread of their conversation. “Yeah, yeah I heard you.” 

“Is there something wrong?”

After a moment of deliberation, Scully stepped out of the squad car and closed the door behind her. “It’s just… is it fair to him, Mulder?”

“...Fair to who?” 

“To Queequeg. I mean, I’ve owned him for nearly two years now, but I don’t really own him, do I? Mom cares for him while I'm out of town, and I only really see him between cases--”

“He tagged along with us that one time. And he seems to be eating up your trip.” 

“--But is it fair? After Christmas….” 

More silence settled-- weighty and somber-- while they both carefully readjusted to the turn of the conversation. 

“After Christmas, I was going to make changes in my life. I had made them. But even after--” Scully pivoted away from that consuming memory, “-- after Emily... I never considered keeping those changes for Queequeg's sake. Was that fair of me?” 

Jack Bonsaint knocked considerately on the windshield. “Agent Scully? Any leads?” 

***** 

Oblivious to the horror show unfolding across town, Queequeg tore away the plastic from a complimentary bar of soap and sank his teeth into the old lady smell of dime store lavender. He then decorated his triumph all over the floor. 

***** 

“Well-behaved” had turned into “good as new” had turned into “we’ll handle it”; and Scully’s weekend closed amicably, both professionally and financially. At least Jack and the force were pitching in to cop the damages.

She’d buy him a poster, she decided, securing her rascally co-pilot into place before striding to the driver’s side door. 

And she’d at least gotten her bath. 

But she’d never tell Mulder about what happened to her new tourist shirt.

*****

Dedicated to @welsharcher's curiosity about Mulder's strange... hat (here) in "Christmas Carol" and @agent-troi's generously donated prompt ("Queequeg tags along on cases and gets into mischief") that @perpetually-weirdening seconded.

Tagging @today-in-fic and @xffictober2023 and @fictober-event

**Note**: If the Tales of Queequeg becomes a series, I will call them The Remains of the Remains of the Day. That is all.

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!