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sockablock · 5 years

Note

Prompt: "You tried so hard, and I am so, so proud of you." Feel free to edit to fit whatever character and/or scenario you might come up with.

Beau wakes up.

First, she notices the sound.

Where before had been screeching blades, roaring flames, the burning of radiance and the groan of a crossbow and the low, rising hums of a thousand angry beetles, all buzzing, all thrumming, all achingly hungry—here, in this moment, in this minute, there is nothing.

There is…almost nothing.

Beau opens her eyes.

She is greeted by the light of a gently-crackling fire. It illuminates a clearing, soft under moonlit sky. The grass has been pushed down where the ashes burn, and a circle of stones surround the glowing logs.

A figure sits in front of the flames. Outlined in embers, lounging against a stump.

It is staring at Beau.

Its eyes glimmer red.

There is a moment, as neither of them speak.

And then a string of curses spills out into the night. Very, very quickly, Beau scrambles to her feet.

“—fuck!” she shouts, throwing her hands into the air. “Fucking hell, seriously? Gods, I can’t believe this. I never thought…I didn’t think…”

Molly drapes an arm across his knees. “Nice to see you too, dear,” he grins. “I’d ask how you’re doing, but…no point, eh?”

Beau mutters another awful swear. She matches his smirk with a withering glare.

“Don’t tell me I’m stuck here with you. My life wasn’t all bad, I can’t deserve hell.”

One of Molly’s eyebrows arcs up. His head tilts just faintly to the side.

“Is that where you think this is? Hell? You think hell’s a tranquil midnight forest?”

“I think hell is wherever you are.”

There’s a pause. Then:

“Touché, Beauregard. You really haven’t got any love for your old friend?”

Beau rolls her eyes, then shuffles forward in the grass. She sits down inches from Molly’s side.

“You motherfucker,” she whispers softly. The tears on her cheeks are orange in the light. “You dumbass. Why’d you have to go and die?”

Molly pulls her in for a hug. She can hear the slow jingle his charms. It has been almost a year since she’d last heard that song.

After a while, they break away. Molly gives her a complicated smile.

“I could ask the same of you. Nice gash across your stomach. Very dramatic. What an exit!”

Beau scowls, mostly out of habit. She presses a heavy palm to the wound but feels no blood, no wetness, no pain.

Her hand is clean when she draws it back up. She sees now, already, her flesh begin to heal.

“Is that…is that normal?” she murmurs. “Did yours do that? Does it mean…am I really dead?”

Molly leans back against the stump. He lets his horns tap onto the wood.

“Ha! How would I know, dear? I’m just as lost as you. Maybe more so.”

Beau crosses her arms. She also lies back. Up, high above, is a mosaic of twinkling stars. The dark expanse of the universe lies beyond.

She doesn’t recognize a single pattern. Strangely, somehow, that’s…alright.

“What do you mean ‘more so’?” she asks. “You’ve been here ages. Shouldn’t you be…I dunno, shouldn’t you be an expert, by now?”

Molly snorts. His jewelry chimes. “Beauregard, you wound me. Who do you think I am?”

“I thought you were adventurous,” she counters. “I thought you always seized life by the balls. I thought you were all about living in the moment and exploring anything and everything you came by.”

Molly watches the stars in silence. He shuffles a little, and the grass below them rustles.

“I suppose we never did know each other as well as we should have, eh?”

Beau considers this. She sees a comet.

“I think…we were friends. I guess that was always good enough for me.”

Molly cracks a very small smile. She doesn’t see it, but really. She didn’t need to.

“Thanks, Beau. I thought so too.”

They lie there in the quiet a moment more, listening to the rhythm of the fire.

Then Beau rises. She glances all around.

“Is this…is this it, then?” she asks. “Is this all there is? I mean…just some woods and a burning pit? Where’s the excitement? Where’s the reward? We were…we were heroes, dammit, shouldn’t we get a little more than this?”

Molly peeks one crimson eye open. He’d never had pupils, but she could tell that he was staring.

“What are you talking about?” he asks.

Beau waves a hand, encompassing the forest. “This!” she repeats, significantly louder. “I’m talking about all this. Or—gods, or lack thereof. I mean…come on! This is the afterlife? This is barely better than the…the life-life! If I wanted to sit around all day, staring into an open flame and listening to nothing but crickets and other shitty bugs, I could’ve just stayed alive! I mean, gods above, I’d really prefer that.”

Then she hesitates, and her gaze darts to Molly. He hasn’t moved a muscle, just continues to stare.

“Er,” she adds hastily. “Er…sorry, I guess. I’m being pretty insensitive, huh?”

There’s a beat as the campfire crackles on behind them. Then Molly sighs.

He shakes his head.

“Well, it’s nice to know that some things don’t change.” He sits a little straighter, and nods beyond the trees. “Want to know a little secret? Just between us old friends?”

Beau raises an eyebrow. “Will I regret it?”

The answer is a chuckle. He points into the distance.

“There’s actually a town only a few hours’ walk from here. It looks rather lovely. And it’s pretty rambunctious, especially when you get much closer. Sometimes they have fireworks. Usually, they have music. It’s…it actually seems like quite the party.”

Beau raises an eyebrow. She quickly looks him over.

“What the—then…why the hell are you still here? The Molly I knew would’ve jumped at that place. I mean, gods, remember Hupperdook?”

“I do,” Molly answers, and she realizes too late. Still he continues to plow on ahead. “The Molly you knew was alive, dear. Alive and…well, he had friends.”

The flash of weak smile cuts through the quiet night.

“I, ah…I don’t really want to head over, yet. Especially not if I’m going to be alone.”

Beau crosses her arms. “But you’re alone here. Sitting all by yourself in the forest.”

His smile turns softer. His shoulders fall a little.

“You can still be lonely in a crowd, dear. Besides, I mean…you’re here, aren’t you?”

Beau considers this. She lets out a sigh.

“Yeah, well, I suppose that’s true. Fat lot of good that’ll do the others. We were in a fight, you know. A really bad one. With this crazy golem. It threw out a spear, and I ran to protect Caleb, and…I guess I got unlucky.”

He gives her a gentle pat on the arm. “It happens to the best of us,” he says. “Believe me dear, I would know.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

He barks out a laugh. The glimmer in his eyes seems to warm as Beau grins.

“Come on,” he says, gesturing at the fire. “Why don’t you humor me a bit? Stay a little while. It’s been so long. We should catch up! And maybe we could get to know each other a bit better. We didn’t have many chances, before.”

Beau watches the soft, hopeful turn of his mouth. The threads of his coat shine gently in the light.

She’d always thought that thing was too gaudy. Looking at it now, well.

It was Molly’s.

She sits down. She returns to his side.

“Tell me a story,” he murmurs in the moonlight. “Any kind of story. Anything at all.”

Beau makes a quiet humming sound in her throat. She thinks back on her life. She chooses a story.

Then she remembers how long he’d been alone.

She chooses every story.

She tells Molly about her life growing up in Kamordah, growing up on the massive, sprawling Lionett estate. She tells him about the childhood she’d never had, about being forced into lessons and being forced into dresses, about being told she was the heir of a prestigious winery, and how she was supposed to grow up and be a Lady. She told him about getting into fights with other kids, she told him about how she hated being controlled, she told him about the smuggling and the stealing, the being caught, the being discarded, the running away—

She told him how free she’d felt with the Nein. How much she loved them. How much she loved them all.

She told him that they’d been her real family. She told him why she’d left her old one.

She told him about Tori. She told him about the letter.

She told him about her brother.

“I mean…can you believe that?” At this point, the fire before them has grown low. “Seriously…gods, I had a brother? And I…man. I never got to meet him. I never…I guess I never will, huh?”

She stares reflectively into the embers.

“…should I…at the time, should I have tried?” she murmurs. “Should I have tried to go and see him? To talk to him, and…I dunno, to try and speak to my parents again? Should I have tried to…to change? Molly, I hated them, I thought they hated me. But I think…I should have tried—”

And then she’s in his shoulder. His hands gently pat her on the back. Her lungs are shaking and her fingers tremble and she’s crying again, for the second time. In front of Molly. Molly, of all people.

Absently, she thinks that this is probably the wrong tiefling.

But then she remembers everything else. Everything they’d been through, everything they’d lost.

She settles down. Her chest falls still.

“It’s okay,” Molly whispers. “Beau, it’s okay. Whatever happened before, whatever happens now, I…I know there’s a lot that I missed. There’s a lot I don’t know. There’s a lot I’ll never know.”

He leans back, and wipes away a tear.

“But there is one thing that I’m sure of. And it’s that you tried. I know that you tried. You never stopped trying, and as annoying as you were, as bloody irritating as you got, my dear, my friend, you tried so hard. And I am so, so proud of you.”

Beau sniffles a bit. She hadn’t done so in many years.

She’s dead now. Maybe some rules don’t matter.

She uses her sleeve to clear up the rest. She nods at Molly, and tries to match his smile.

“Thanks, uh…yeah. Thanks.”

His grin widens. There’s a little bit of fang.

“Oh, I’m gonna remember this one. I can’t wait to tell the others.”

She rolls her eyes, and hits him on the arm.

“You dick. I hate you, you know that?”

His laughter is everything in the quiet.

“I do. And for the record, I hate you too.”

Beau manages to snort at that. She can feel the dampness drying on her face. She opens her mouth to give a retort, but then, all of a sudden, there’s…there’s a feeling—

It’s like someone had wrapped a string around her heart. And then they’d pulled on it.

They’d pulled hard.

Beau glances down. There’s a sharp intake of breath.

“Molly, I’m—”

“Gods, what in the—”

Beauregard’s body has turned into light. She’s still there, still present, but her form has shifted, it’s becoming translucent and blurry and soft, she’s glowing, she’s vibrating, she can feel something warm—

And then there’s a voice. It’s distant, it’s far. It’s impossibly quiet, but it’s still there, she can hear:

—friend. The…the first real friend that I ever had. I miss her, and…and…and…please. She’s my family. She’s all of our family. Beau, if…you can hear me, I just…I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, I wasn’t there in time—

Molly reaches out.

He takes her by the hand.

He tries to, anyway. She isn’t fully there.

Somehow, this is wonderful.

Somehow, it is terrible.

“Go on,” he whispers, nodding his head. That smile is back, though just a bit sad. “Go back, Beau. Tell them I said ‘hi.’”

She stares into his gaze, pleading, gripping tight, she tries to wrap her fingers around his wrist, like she can drag him, like she can bring him too—

“We never came for you,” she realizes. “Molly, we never—we didn’t—we didn’t think—”

He shakes his head. There was never any malice.

“Those were borrowed years, dear. It’s okay. I’ll wait. I’ve got all the time in the world.”

“But you’re alone—”

A different voice now, low and twangy, pleading all the same—

—my first mate, Beau. I couldn’t have done any of it without you—

“I’m not alone. Not really. I’ve, ah, I’ve been sort of watching—

She shakes her head. “That’s not enough. We’ll bring you back—”

Molly’s grin is gentle. It’s soft.

“Ah, but perhaps this has all been a dream?”

Even at a time like this, Beau can glare. It’s honestly quite impressive.

“You’re a dick, you know that?”

“Takes one to know one. It’s been a pleasure.”

—regard, er…I know we did not get off on the right foot, but over this last year, you have become—

She is nothing but a fading ghost in the light now, almost returned, almost brought home.

She narrows her eyes. She shakes a fist.

“I’m coming back. I promise, I’m coming back. One way or another, I’ll see you again. You fuck. Save a drink for me.”

Molly laughs. “I’ll meet you in that town. Fair enough?”

She nods. Maybe it’s reluctant, but she nods.

“Go out there and enjoy yourself, you bastard. If anyone’s earned it, I think you have.”

She’s almost gone. Her voice is a whisper.

Molly leans back against the stump.

“See you later, Beauregard. But not too soon. Like I said. I’ve got time.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Fine.”

And then there is a slow and fading breeze. A quiet shiver in the trees all around.

And then he’s alone again.

Just like that.

A few moments later, he opens his eyes.

The fire has almost completely died. The last tiny embers are growing cold and dim.

The smoke has stopped winding up through the trees.

He glances off in the direction of the town.

Just at the edge of his hearing:

Music.

Very, very slowly, Molly breathes a laugh.

He stands up. He brushes off his trousers.

If he gets going now, he can make it before dawn.

—

if you have a request, my inbox is open! My ko-fi link is in my bio, if you’re feeling charitable

#critical role #critfic #critrole #fic #fanfic #oh man this was SO FUN TO WRITE!! THANK YOU ALEX I LOVE YA <3 #jay writes #fanfiction #beauregard #mollymauk tealeaf #long post #jay fills requests #text #i am feeling MANY emotions now because of this shjfkdshajk #volarfinch

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robsdoodlebook · 4 years

Photo

^ to reiterate my image tag: DON’T USE THESE PLEASE AND THANK. I just wanted to share!

Okay so this is a big ol post of the princes of hell from my story i’ve been calling the ‘Tippyverse’ (basically the universe tippy exists in) about toon heaven/hell where it displays shenanigans about toons coming to life and where they go when they die for real! They’re all called ‘princes’ but it’s an honorific- they’re actually all gender neautral and sexless and go by varying pronouns (which you can see under my readmore with info)

I wanted to make my own versions of Dante’s circles mixed with the 7 sins into the princes of hell who each reign over a layer based on what kind of crimes a sinner committed. there are 9 circles, but due to story spoiler stuff one of them (Heresy) went missing- as for the rest of them, they’re all a bunch of weirdo friends/co workers who live together with satan and have their own personalities/powers/perks. I’m hoping to actually make/publish a half comic half story type work with them for people to read!

needless to say, there’s a LOT about each of them so i’m just gonna put short-ish basic descriptions under a read more (and hopefully nobody will try to use these... that’s my biggest concern lmao)

TW: mention of sexual assault/assault/abuse and related under readmore

The layers are organized so that the least worst are near the top and the worst are at the bottom; each layer is endless in horizontal directions but end vertically at the next one after a large enough distance. While each layer is punishing in itself, the prince of each layer is able to further torment any within their domain- though they can punish any sinner, they’re not allowed to torture innocent souls.

First Layer: Limbo/Purgatory (Both he/him pronouns only) - endless loneliness and suffering, expecting to go to heaven; those sentenced to purgatory come from heaven but must repent before being let in, others are endlessly trapped when sentenced to limbo from hell - Tippy (Limbo) and Skippy (Purgatory) are twin brothers that represent judgement, where tippy is endless hunger for justice and skippy is the all seeing eye who witnesses. They’re both rambunctious tricksters, but tippy is more bratty while skippy likes to help

Second Layer: Fraud (he/him or they/them) - tormented/taunted endlessly by demons; those who falsify themselves and what they offer to deceive and use others in harmful ways end up here (worse than a simple lie basically) - Fraud adores casinos and gambling, and is quite cheery/charismatic usually, but you don’t want to get on his bad side. his floating rotating head has 3 main expressions that sometimes mix and match to show his mood (his mouth and eyes don’t move otherwise even when speaking). Often wanting to show off and have a good time, he’s quite good at mimicking other’s voices and faces, able to steal identities of thieves. Third Layer: Gluttony/Sloth (she/her, they/them) - constant rain, hail and black snow. This version of gluttony and sloth doesn’t punish normal consumption and laziness but instead punishes intentional over use and hoarding of resources when others need it, as well as inaction in the face of injustice and needed help. - Moby is perhaps one of the largest princes, but also softest and slowest; she loves filter feeding through the souls she tortures, napping, and being slept on. she’s fairly content not moving for a while and doesn’t usually get angry at anything. Her mouth can extend endlessly to swallow anything. Fourth Layer: Greed (mainly he/him but uses any pronouns, will take yours!) - smelting pit of gold, souls suffer and get pushed back in when trying to escape. Those who take what they want when they don’t need it and hurt others by doing so belong here. - Grasping at everything, Greed is slippery and very excitable over anything; so long as it’s something someone else wants. he’ll steal anything that has value to someone else, regardless of what it is, if tangibly take-able. His biggest desire is to have a living thing in his collection but it’s against the rules. Though he has a base of 6 arms, he can grow infinite arms and infinite pockets. Fifth Layer: Treachery (they/them or he/him) - repeatedly freeze and unfreeze in ice, slipping into sharp surfaces; those who break promises and betray others/break trust are brought here. - Usually cloaked and hiding behind a mask, treachery looks friendly and will offer you their flower, but it’s a test. if the flower grows thorns and pricks the receiver, they’re guilty of treachery and immediately in trouble. They hide their true trickery self, only dropping the facade once they betray the betrayers trust; then they punish greatly. Sometimes, if lucky enough, souls will see the shadow that shows treachery’s true self and intentions that follows strictly behind them regardless of lighting. Sixth Layer: Heresy (he/him or they/them)(erased by an antagonist) - locked in burning tombs, those who blindly lead others astray into cults and harmful/misleading followings are punished. - A charming showman like fellow, he’s quick to try and get you to follow his lead to your doom. he’ll deceive you into following his ‘group’ to your own punishment, and love taunting you every step of the way. Very show-boaty, standoffish, and full of himself, his biggest desire is to replace god- an ambition that resulted in his unfortunate accident. His crown acts as his mouth and moves for him to speak, and will clamp down painfully if he gets in over his head with ambition. He’s a rule breaker, often visiting the mortal plane to the point people mistook him for the devil himself.

Seventh Layer: Anger (She/her, they/them) - sinners fight on the surface of styx, while the sulky/gloomy angry type sink to bottom; those who use anger to control and hurt others end up here - Though easily angered with a fiery temper, she actually prefers calmness and de-stressing activities. using anger management techniques, she tries to keep her calm, but when sinners deserve punishment she has no qualms turning up the heat. She’ll lovingly guide those with help they need to calm down and de-stress, and protect the innocent from those who seek to use their rage to harm others and excuse malice. She wears a muzzle intentionally to try and hold back her own bite and allow others to feel safer around her, only unleashing it on those who deserve it. Eighth Layer: Lust (they/them only; neutral to respect all victims) - wind contorts and twists people while they hit rocks, painfully abusing their bodies; those who commit sexual abuse/assault wing up here, the worst of the worst being specially tortured by Lust - A silent and solemn being, Lust never speaks but instead gestures with head bobs on their long neck. their hair always obscures their face unless they wish to show it, or to the worst sinners who see their victim’s pain in their stitches face. The center stitch is a mouth that can split and scream blood curdling cries of pain. Genderless, they represent the pain of their victims and torment with their sharp long nails and eerie constant inducing fear, silently stalking unable to speak. Usually only in their Layer, they occasionally wander out where they’re quiet but calm and openly warm to humor and love from others that is genuine. Ninth Layer: Wrath/Violence (He/him, they/them) - boiling blood swamps mixed with flaming deserts, sinners often suffer violence they inflicted; those who actively violent attack, hurt, and otherwise assault others physically directly or near directly wind up here - Like anger, Wrath does not enjoy violence; instead, he prefers calm quiet meditation and peace. Violence causes him great pain and anger, making him often become blind so that he does not hold back his wrath upon those who committed it. Carrying a sword made of pure violent energy, only he can wield it with the gauntlet of wrath as it can grow to massive size and weight only he can bear. If struck with the sword, a sinner feels the immeasurable pain of all the summarized violence and cannot recover from it. When not trekking these planes to punish souls, Wrath often meditates in Hell’s gardens for so long plants grow over him and he’s mistaken for a statue.

#tippyverse #princes of hell #7 deadly sins #tippy the demon #skippy the cherub #oc #original character #long post #looool this is. a lot. whelp #toon #where do toons go when they die?

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writingismyhappytime · 5 years

Text

Marry Me (Part 7)

Ricky Horror x Reader

Warnings: Language

"This is the last of it," Ricky sighs as he sits the last box of his things in your spare bedroom, which is now quite full of extra boxes and... well, guitars. He literally moved his most prized possessions into your apartment but left the rest of it at his house with Ryan.

"Well, that's good. I'm sure Ryan is relieved to have the extra room." You comment as you lean against the door jam, watching him open one of the boxes containing his clothes. "Think he'll put a play room in there like in Fifty Shades of Gray?"

Ricky rolls his eyes; he's never seen the movie but he understands the context. "No, he's gonna leave it for me when I bunk over."

Oh, right. Ricky doesn't plan on staying with you constantly, just enough to keep the facade going. It's almost easy to forget.

The two of you spent your honeymoon weekend on your couch eating takeout; you watched TV and he read a book, and occasionally you had a conversation about how much you dislike the Bachelorettes choice in men and how she keeps picking the worst ones, and he made agreeable sounds.

Marriage is easy.

"You can change the room around however you like, but you know when Chloe is over you're going to have to sleep with me." You remind, biting your lip. "I kick in my sleep."

"So long as you don't shove me out of bed, it's fine." He shrugs, his back to you so you don't see him flush. Yeah, he's thought about that already, but you're both adults. He spent the nights in your spare room, the beds okay but he'd really like a softer mattress. He'll have to buy one because he know Chloe will complain as well.

"I'll steal all the covers."

"Are you trying to make me want to sleep on the sofa?" Ricky sends you an amused look. "I mean, I can if it would make you more comfortable." He adds hastily, hands hovering over his open box. He doesn't want to push or anything or make it seem like he's trying to ---.

"Nah, it's all good. I don't really mind, I'm just teasing." you shrug, taking a step back as you glance at your watch. "I gotta head back downstairs, I can't leave the guys to their own devices too long. You good up here?"

"Yeah."

You turn away, heading back downstairs to your car shop; you have a business to run now that the marriage is done, and you figure the worst is over. You wear your ring, occasionally post cute photos of the two of you, that's it, right? Ricky just has to file for custody of Chloe, where it's fair, and he'll totally have the appearance of a stable home for her when he's on tour.

Easy peasy.

Ricky listens for the front door to close before sitting down in the floor with a sigh, pulling the box between his knees as he rifles through it. He's tired, but the stress of the wedding is over, so that's a relief. He feels like he'd really roughed it up into a horror show in his head, but it went smooth.

You'd looked so beautiful, he doesn't think he's ever seen anyone glow the way you did, and that dress ---. Well, he's kind of embarrassed with how blown away he'd been, he's just so used to seeing you in a greasy jumpsuit or with black streaks all over you, smelling like oil and brandishing a wrench.

Whenever he thought of you, that's all he could picture, but now it's a little different. He's seen you in dresses, noticed your lovely legs, and when you doll up you're certainly a sight to behold. He almost regrets that he didn't notice any of that before, but, well, with Claire, he's not really been noticing anything else.

Chloe is his world, he'll do anything for her, and he doesn't want to do anything that could mess that up. The fact you're changing up your life to help him ensure that means a lot to him, especially since you went to such great lengths. He appreciates you more than you know, but he's having a harder time thinking of you as just one of the guys now.

Sometimes all he can think about is how soft your lips are, how sweet your lipgloss tastes --- no, he shouldn't focus on any of that. You're friends, that's it, and with the circumstances, he can't let it get complicated. He can't even fantasize about it, not when he has court coming up in a few more weeks and that should be taking all of his attention.

Claire is going to fight him tooth and nail, he just knows it. But he doesn't think he should only get Chloe every other weekend, he wants to be in her life more. She's his daughter too, and her mother isn't going to just take his checks and keep her away from him! She can't use the excuse he goes on tour and is never around, either, or that he doesn't have a stable place for Chloe, which is what she's pointed out before .

He's a musician, but that doesn't make him a bad father.

He just has to prove that to the judge.

~~~~~~~~~~

You sigh, listening to your guys ramble on as they work on the cars in the shop. They all cleaned up nice for your wedding, but now it's back to business. You're their boss, but you're used to the smack talk, and the guy talk, but not the coffee cups being left strewn everywhere. You haven't really been around lately you've been so busy with the wedding, and they've apparently gotten a little lax with the cleanup!

The first half of your morning was spent making them clean just like you were their mother! You're a little annoyed honestly, can't even leave them for a few weeks to do anything on their own!

Or maybe you're just in a bad mood because you didn't get enough sleep last night, Ricky keeps pacing back and forth in his room on the phone and it bothers you. You've lived alone for so long it's weird to know someone else is in your apartment. Plus he argues very loudly.

Apparently there's already issues with Claire, she called him late last night and has him set off still today. You're not sure what's going on with her, you guess it's not really any of your business, but if it's health concerned she needs to let Ricky know about it since it can affect their child. Chloe seems happy and fine so far, but you worry.

You glance out from underneath the car as you hear a wrench clatter, listening to someone swear as they have to grab it. Everything always echoes pretty loud in the garage, but you're just pleased you still have business; honestly you think you have even more than usual since you married Ricky a few weeks ago.

Could be the whole fame thing.

You tighten the screw on the part you're working on, listening absently to the loud music playing over the radio. It's just like any other day in the shop, and you find you missed this part of your routine. You've been so wrapped up in Ricky's business you've almost forgotten about your own.

You do wonder how Claire and Ricky are going to be when the time for court hits. Ricky now has an extra ball in his court, so hopefully that'll convince the judge he's much more reliable. Honestly, Ricky is a great dad, so you don't understand why he wouldn't get more time with Chloe, at least make it equal!

You haven't really thought about what you're going to do when he's off on tour though. Do you keep Chloe? Do you let her stay with her mom? Maybe you should ask him about it. You love Chloe to death, and the two of you get along just fine, you're just not really sure you can entertain her the entire time he's gone, but you'll certainly try.

What do kids like, anyway?

Maybe you should ask your aunt, she has more expertise with kids than you do, she could give you some pointers. She's always ready to give advice anyway, she'll be thrilled you're actually asking for once.

"Hey."

Hmm?

You hesitate and glance over from the car as you hear your husbands voice. You're leaning over it, a light hanging off the hood to illuminate the parts before you so you can work, a streak of grease already on your cheek. Your hands are smeared with black, how the hell do you get so dirty so fast?

"What is it?" You ask as you lean up, wiping at your forehead with the back of your hand; so that's how you constantly get it on your face, why don't you wear gloves?

"I'm heading into the studio to work with the guys, I'll be back later tonight." Ricky says, typing on his phone as he stands a few feet away from you, not even looking up. "You don't have to wait up for me."

"But, darling, I was going to cook us such a lovely dinner tonight." You sigh dramatically. "Oh how you've foiled my plans."

Ricky chuckles, his bright eyes finding yours as he takes a moment to notice you; he already misses how you looked in your wedding dress, all dolled up and beautiful; when he thinks of you now, it's like that. "As much as I love spaghetti, I'll grab something on the way back. Do you need anything?"

"Nah, all good. Hey, isn't Chloe coming over this weekend?"

"Uh, yeah." Ricky shifts; that was the agreement, anyway. She should be coming to check out the new place, with Ricky picking her up so Claire won't have to drive halfway across town. He's a little nervous about it, her staying over, but she's never had any issue when she was at Ryan's. It's just everything is so different now, what if she's unhappy? What if she doesn't like your apartment? It's obviously smaller than the house he rents. What if she wants to leave early?

"Should I get anything special from the store? You have her toys and stuff from the house right, the ones she leaves over?"

"Yeah, they're in one of the boxes in the spare room." His eyes flick across the shop, which has suspiciously gotten quieter since he came downstairs; all your workers are pretending not to listen while very obviously doing so. "She should be fine."

"Right." You just don't want her to be bored. You're open on Saturdays, so you'll be working, and Ricky will have to entertain her. "We'll just have to make it clear that she can't be in the shop while we have cars in here, the equipment is too dangerous."

"She'll understand that."

"I know." She's a smart kid, you don't doubt that. But all kids get rambunctious and want to break the rules sometimes. "Just really press that, okay?"

"I will."

"Cool. So why don't you bring some Italian home with you tonight, hmm?" You suggest, giving him a smile. "I'd love some of those breadsticks."

Ricky rolls his eyes. "Of course you do. If you're passed out when I get back, I'm eating them."

"Fine, they don't taste good reheated anyway."

He shakes his head as he starts out the large bay doors, stepping over a jack carefully; he's only tripped over it three times before when he's come strolling through. You chuckle to yourself, turning your attention back to the car parts in front of you.

He better bring you those breadsticks.

~~~~~~~~

"Oh you're the best husband ever," you sigh as you sit on your sofa, feet propped on the coffee table. You're fresh out of the shower, wearing pajamas with your hair still damp as you enjoy the entire basket of steaming hot breadsticks Ricky grabbed for you on the way home. He sitting beside you on his computer, totally enraptured in whatever he's looking at.

"I know." He replies, taking the half you offer him after a moment. "They still remember us since I proposed to you there so your half was free as a wedding present."

"Oh that's so nice." You brighten a little, pulling a blanket over your lap as you squirm into the pillows surrounding you. "I'll remember to tip well."

He sends you a wry look. "Chloe is excited to come over."

"She just wants to see her new bedroom. You got a lot of that cleaned up, right?" You ask of the stacks of boxes upon boxes. A lot of them are already at the dumpster, so you assume he's been cleaning. You also don't want a tower of them to fall on the kid either. That won't be a good first impression.

"Yeah, it's pretty much together already. I'm gonna have to buy a new mattress though."

"Is that one not good?"

"It's just too firm. Chloe will complain."

You quirk a brow, glancing from your TV show back to him. You really wanna see who the Bachelorette kicks off the show, but you can always rewind it. "The bed is too firm?"

"She likes soft." Ricky shrugs, flushing.

"Well what do you like? Firm or soft?" You quirk a brow at him playfully, tapping his hand with a breadstick. "We can switch beds if you like, I think mine is a little softer but I don't care either way."

"No, I'm not going to steal your bed from you," he shakes his head. "I'll figure it out."

"Well, don't say I didn't offer," you mumble, a breadstick already shoved halfway in your mouth as you turn your attention back to the TV. This is as good a dinner as any in your opinion, you're too tired to cook anything. You worked after hours finishing up some of the cars that were getting behind, so now there's at least two ready to be picked up tomorrow. You swear your guys can be so lazy sometimes, you don't even know why you keep them around!

Your eyes flick to the clock, it's only around ten, but you're already debating on going to bed. You're so very tired, and the day has been ridiculously long. You suppose you're boring, not even going out on a Friday night, not wanting to go party like a normal person your age. You should be out hanging with friends, getting into trouble, but instead... well, you suppose you're just a settled adult.

Ricky glances over as his phone lights up between the two of you, and you look down nosily only to frown.

"Why is she calling so late?" You ask as you see Claire's name lighting up the screen, causing Ricky to sigh. "You're not going to argue late into the night again are you?"

He hesitates, glancing at you almost guiltily. "You heard that?"

"Well, the walls are thin." You shrug. "I'm still getting used to someone being here with me, so I notice all the noises."

"Sorry," he mumbles, reluctantly clicking the screen. He would ignore her most times, but he always worries it has something to do with Chloe and he wants to be there if it is. He answers it, and his face sours after just a few seconds of talking with her. He sends you a look, and you raise your brows at him, wondering what problem happened now.

It's always a bad omen when his ex calls.

"I'll be right down," Ricky sighs in exasperation, ending the call before his ex can get another word out. He drops his phone on the sofa, running his hands up his face and into his hair as he exhales heavily. He gives it a beat before he shifts, slipping his computer onto the coffee table and standing.

"Everything okay?" You ask after a moment, a breadstick hovering halfway to your mouth. You're practically inhaling them, but you'd been starving to death honestly. You'd been so pleased when he'd actually come back with food you could have kissed him if he wasn't your fake husband.

"Yeah, so... Claire is downstairs, waiting to drop Chloe off early."

"What." You stare at him, frowning immediately as you lower your semi-warm breadstick. Chloe isn't supposed to be here till tomorrow, you are not prepped for a child right now! If she's here, that means Ricky is going to have to sleep in your bed! With you! On the plus side, you've already put clean sheets on there, but on the downside you're not sure you're excited about sharing your bed, despite it's a big one. You kick in your sleep, did you tell him that?

"I'm sorry," he says nervously at your not very impressed look. "I wasn't expecting this, but I gotta go downstairs."

"Well, I mean, it's fine," Not exactly like you can tell him no, is it? Oh yeah Ricky, your kid can't come here, make your ex go away. No, that's shitty, and this is the entire reason you got married, for Chloe. You'll just make sure to take a ton of photos with her this weekend to prove that you had her when Claire was supposed too. "Do you need backup?"

"What? No, why would I need backup?" Ricky is already moving towards the door, but he glances over his shoulder at your words. You look so comfy on the sofa, under a blanket, food in your lap, your damp hair around your shoulders as you look at him.

"I dunno, in case she gets rude and I need to beat her up to defend your honor."

Your husband snorts, shaking his head. Of course Claire is going to be rude, but you going to jail on assault charges isn't going to help his case. He doesn't respond as he leaves the apartment, heading down the rickety steps to get his kid from his ex. You sigh as he disappears, leaving the front door open.

Great.

You glance down unhappily, but you're not very hungry anymore. You drop the basket onto the table, brushing some crumbs out of your lap as you get to your feet. Your dads old t shirt and some shorts don't seem appropriate suddenly for Chloe's first night with you, but you doubt you have time to change.

You purse your lips before creeping to the window, nudging the blinds just a little so you can see out into the parking lot. Claire's car is idling just in front of one of the closed bay doors, and she's holding a very sleepy looking child in her arms as Ricky grabs a pink bag from the interior. You know they're talking, but their voices don't quite carry up to your height.

What the hell is that woman up too? She's been so adamant before about not really letting Ricky see his kid, now she's practically shoving Chloe at him randomly. You seriously think she's got something healthwise going on because otherwise, you doubt she'd be like this. She's not nice enough, or maybe it's just because Ricky is her ex that she's a big dickhead.

You're not sure.

You quickly duck away from the window when Ricky takes his child in his arms, turning to head back into the apartment. You look around, trying to wonder what you can do to look like you were busy and absolutely not spying on him.

You sit back down on the sofa, jerking the blanket back over your lap and pretending you're absolutely enthralled in the Bachelorette. You prop your chin on your hand, but look over as you hear his footsteps on the stairs, and finally, he's walking into the apartment.

Well that's adorable.

He has her backpack over his shoulder, but she's wrapped around him, her face nuzzled into his neck as he carries her. She's completely snoozing, arms loosely on his shoulders , dressed in a blue Cinderella nightgown that you remember wearing similarly when you were a little kid. You hesitate, but Ricky merely presses his finger against his lips.

One wrong move and she'll wake up, he just knows it. He's not sure how she's still asleep and missed the bitch session her mother gave him, but he considers it a blessing. He moves towards the spare room, your eyes following him as he breezes past. He's gone for only a few minutes, where you hear him talking softly to his daughter who must have roused just a little bit, before he's leaving the room and closing the door tightly.

Wow, his face is really red.

"Breadstick?" You offer softly, wondering if that would help his mood. Usually, so long as someone offers you food, you're much more approachable. Unfortunately Ricky just shakes his head, and you frown.

"What happened?"

"Claire is going off for the fucking weekend with her boyfriend last minute," Ricky mutters, keeping his voice low, but you can hear the undertone of anger to it. "She wasn't supposed to drop Chloe off until tomorrow morning but apparently they're leaving tonight. She fucking woke Chloe up so she could go have a fuck fest with that piece of shit."

Or, maybe she thought she would ruin your fuck fest, but jokes on her.

"Well, it's okay," you pat the sofa beside you, not wanting him to start pacing, that gets on your nerves. "She's asleep, right?"

"Yeah, pretty much." he mutters, and reluctantly goes to sit down beside you. He tosses himself down a little harder than necessary, aggravated. "Ten is normally her bed time. I just thought we'd have a little more time to prepare."

"It's okay," you squeeze his arm. "I promise not to kick you out of bed."

"That's not what I meant." Although yeah that's what he forgot about; he's going to have to sleep with you for the rest of the weekend, which he feels is going to be so awkward. You don't seem bothered by the idea, but you seem to always take things in stride no matter what happens. He admires that about you, you don't let anything get to you. He wishes he could be as relaxed, he always feel likes a wire about to snap, like one good tug and his nerves will not be able to take it.

Everything is so stressful lately.

~~~~~~~~~~

So sleeping with you isn't terrible. Ricky let you go to bed first, staying up to finish his lyrics on the computer, studying the notes and habitually glancing at both bedroom doors. You'd left yours cracked just enough where he could open it without making a sound, and Chloe is sleeping soundly in the other room.

So after a few hours he'd reluctantly decided he had to get some sleep, and meandered his way toward the bedroom. All his sleep clothes are in the other room, and he's not about to wake up his child, so he just left his t shirt and boxers and hoped you didn't mind. You were out by the time he crawled in, snuggled around your pillow on the right side, blankets twisted around your legs already.

Everything smells like you, that soft, sweet scent of your shampoo, the laundry detergent. He's a little relieved it doesn't smell like diesel or engine grease, honestly; it's like sometimes he forgets that you're not always covered in black.

He just can't sleep.

He's staring up at the ceiling, his arms beneath his head as he hears the clock ticking in the other room. You only shuffled a little when he crawled in beside you, keeping an entire person's width between you to the point he's actually on the edge of the bed. He just doesn't want to do anything that would make you uncomfortable, that's all.

It's just weird anymore. You don't act any different, but he feels like something changed during the wedding. He's not sure if just his view of you changed, that seeing you dressed up like that, like something out of a fairytale, but... well, he doesn't feel the same. He just always saw you as one of the guys before, greased up and smelling like a racetrack.

He feels stupid, and he knows it's not right how he feels, that he's... well, he's attracted to you more now than he ever was before. He barely spared you a glance, he never really thought of you as anything but pretty, but in his defense, you were dressed in a stained jumpsuit with oil all over you.

He glances over as you shift, mumbling something in your sleep as you roll. He tenses as you turn, apparently seeking warmth as somehow you cross the entire bed onto his side. Your fingers curl into his t shirt, and you sigh as his body heat warms you up. He rolls his eyes, but he doesn't really mind too much.

He lets his arm drift to his side, frowning at nothing. It's so dark, and he can hear his heart beating against his chest, hear your calm breathing as you sleep beside him. You're completely relaxed all the time, how do you do it? He feels like he has such a weight on his shoulders, from worrying about Chloe and her mother to his music, trying to help with the new album. He's just full of stress, whereas used to he went with the flow --- that's also how he accidentally knocked Claire up and they ended up with a kid together.

So maybe just winging it isn't in his best interest.

He hears a creak, and he raises his head, suddenly very awake. Okay, either you're getting robbed, there's a ghost, or his kid is awake.

All three are bad.

The worst is the last one.

"Daddy?"

Goddamit.

Ricky sighs, reluctantly propping himself up on his elbows, seeing her little form shuffling forward. She must be confused, waking up in a strange place, no wonder she's seeking him out. He sits up slowly, trying not to bother you, your hand slipping from his chest into his lap.

"Here," he says softly, Chloe stepping up to the doorway, rubbing her eyes. She glances around, still looking sleepy but a little concerned before she hurriedly darts to his side. "Can't sleep?" he whispers, and she nods her head, her eyes flicking to you where you're passed out, face pressing into, well, his pillow actually.

Is this weird for the little girl? She's always had her dad all to herself, able to sleep in his bed whenever she wanted, she's never had to share. Does it bother her seeing him with you? He's suddenly worried about the impact of it, thank god the two of you weren't actually intimate, what if she walked in on you two being... like that?

Not that you would be, you're not interested in each other, but still.

He would be the one scarred.

"I don't wanna be alone," Chloe sniffles, reaching out to wrap her arms tightly around his neck. "It's scary."

"Oh, I'm sorry, baby," he squeezes her gently, rubbing soothing circles along her back. "I'll stay in there with you."

"Can I not sleep in here?"

Here?

With you?

All three of you?

"Uh." Ricky isn't sure if that's okay or not, how would you react? You're probably not going to want a kid kicking you in your sleep when you have to work tomorrow. Ricky has never had anyone over when Chloe was, he's never even had her meet any girl he might've been interested in. Is this something she wants because that's normally what parents do? Let their kid sleep with them? Is that an okay family thing to start?

"It's okay," you suddenly mumble, almost slurring your words. He glances over Chloe nervously, seeing you roll over onto your back, rubbing your face. He can't stop his eyes from going to your bare stomach where your shirt is twisted around your waist from your squirming.

"Really?" Chloe whispers, as if she's still trying not to wake you.

You try not to smile, your eyes blearily opening to see her wrapped around Ricky, her dark hair framing her face. You nod your head, and open your arms towards her. Chloe immediately grins, and she lets go of Ricky to crawl over to you, wrapping her arms around your waist and wiggling under the blankets still warm thanks to the two of you.

You chuckle, shuffling onto your side so you're more comfortable. "C'mon, Ricky," you mumble, making sure he has enough room. The man hesitates, staring at the two of you like he's never seen you before. No way is his shy little girl so okay with this, does she really like you that much? He never would have thought that. Well, he knew she liked you, but she's really okay with this?

"Daddy!" Chloe pats the space beside her, tucked under the blanket and looking at him expectantly. Your eyes are already closed, your chest moving slowly --- how the hell are you asleep already? Ricky shakes his head as he shifts, getting comfortable in bed again. He tugs the blankets higher over the three of you, sighing as he faces Chloe.

He never did this with her and her mother, or at least she was too young to remember it. Claire was so against co-sleeping or something, she never would let Chloe stay in the bed. It wasn't long they broke up anyway.

Wait.

Does Chloe do this with her mother and that fucking creep boyfriend? Ricky doesn't like that idea at all.

He brushes Chloe's hair out of her face, feeling her snuggle up against his chest, her back to him, her fingers still curled in your oversized t shirt. He's surprised you don't mind her getting in bed with the two of you, he hopes you can get enough sleep to work tomorrow. He doesn't want his and his daughter's presence to mess up your routine, not when it won't be permanent.

How is Chloe going to feel about it? Will she be upset if the two of you break up? You'll always be friends, that's never going to change, so maybe it won't be weird. You can just say that it didn't work out, you thought there was more but there wasn't.

Ricky suddenly feels like he thought nothing through. He was maybe a little hasty about this, wasn't he?

He sighs, letting his eyes close, feeling weariness want to wash over him.

He needs to stop thinking so much, everything is going to be fine, he's sure.

Absolutely fine.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Morning." You mumble as you step out of your bedroom, rubbing your eyes blearily. Chloe's giggles woke you up, and you could hear Ricky moving around in the kitchen, the smell of breakfast. You didn't realize he was a cook, but you suppose having to raise a kid will make you learn some skills in that department.

"Morning," Ricky replies, glancing at you from the stove. He made pancakes, cut up the strawberries to go on top of it like Chloe likes, and he's just finishing up the last batch now. His daughter already sits at the table, swinging her legs back and forth in the tall chair. Her hair is pulled back from her face with a little bow, and she looks bright and happy already.

God she's a morning child.

"Coffee?" You mumble, shuffling forward to the pot as Ricky inclines his head; there's already a full pot of it, he's a coffee drinker too, although he likes his with more cream and for it to not be like mud. You don't seem to have a preference.

"Daddy, are we still going to the zoo today?" Chloe asks after a moment, poking at what's left of her breakfast. "I wanna see the bears!"

Bears?

"Yeah, we're still going." Ricky replies, flicking the knob to turn the stove eye off, lifting the hot pan to the free side. He grabs a plate from the cabinet above, lifting the pancakes onto it. He glances at you, but you're sipping from a big white mug, barely lifting your lips from it before you're sipping again.

Right, not a morning person.

He nudges the plate at you carefully, and you send him a sidelong glance before you can muster a crooked smile. Your eyes flick to the clock, but the shop doesn't open until ten AM on the weekends, so you have an hour. "What, um, time are you guys going?" You clear your throat, your voice still rough from sleeping.

"Around lunch. We can wait later if you want to go."

"No, that's fine. I have a lot of work to catch up on, but you have fun." You reply, seeing Chloe's face fall. "We'll all go another time."

"That's what Mommy always says," Chloe sighs, propping her chin on her hand. "But she never wants to go."

"I'll make it up to you. What do you want for dinner?" you ask, finally taking the plate Ricky made for you. He's already settling at your small kitchen table, stifling a yawn behind his hand. He didn't sleep well, he couldn't get comfortable. Chloe kept nudging him to the edge of the bed.

"Pasta!" Chloe's answer is immediate. "The twirly kind!"

"Spaghetti?"

"Yes! Like what we made before for Daddy and Uncle Ryan."

Easy peasy. "Alright, so we'll have twirly pasta for dinner." You say, hesitating before you sit down beside Ricky, taking the syrup from the center of the table. You feel weird, all of you sitting here, it's so... family-like. Is that okay? Like, is this what you're supposed to be doing?

"Cool! Daddy, is there more strawberries?"

"On the counter." Ricky lifts his mug to his lips, and you notice the guitar on the front, the paint chipping. Chloe hops to her feet, and you watch as she slowly lifts the small plastic bowl of fruit up, a focused look on her face as she carries it back to the table. She's dressed in a red dress with white polka dots, all she needs is mouse ears and she'd be an adorable Minnie Mouse.

At least her mother has good taste in clothing.

"I need to get ready for work," you sigh over your pancakes, taking a big bite before standing up. You pat Ricky on the shoulder as you pass, heading for your bedroom and nudging the door shut behind you. His eyes flick to Chloe as she plops into her chair, and he frowns as she dumps the container of fruit on the remnants of her pancake.

Maybe all the sugar was not his best plan.

"We'll work on getting your room fixed up for you," he says after a moment, nudging her glass of milk closer to her. "We can go shopping for some decorations if you like."

"Okay." Chloe seems more interested in her breakfast than conversation, and her father sighs, propping his chin on his hand as he watches her eat. What the hell is he going to do with her? If he gets full custody, he'll have to get a new apartment, so she can have her own space. The house he rents with Ryan only has two bedrooms, and obviously he's not going to let her live in the basement.

This living arrangement is only temporary, so he doesn't want to do anything permanent to the room. But maybe some posters, little photos, Chloe likes drawing, so maybe an art table in the corner once he does something with all his boxes. He could get it nice and settled for her, he just wants her to be comfortable.

"I'm done," Chloe suddenly shoves her plate away, and he glances at the leftover strawberries with an internal sigh. "Can we go to the zoo now?"

"In a little bit," Ricky finishes his coffee quickly before he gathers the plates, leaving yours just in case you're not finished. He steps to the sink just as your bedroom door opens. Ah, yes, your prison jumpsuit makes its appearance, grease stains and all. You're putting your hair up, and you give them both a smile.

"Alright, I'm heading down to open up the shop." You say, pleased to see your plate remains. You lift up your fork, grabbing the last bites of pancakes. You should have woke up earlier, but you forgot to set an alarm last night, so now you're in a hurry. "I'll see you guys for dinner. Chloe, you want to help me make it?"

"Yes!" Chloe brightens at the idea. "I get to do the sauce again?"

"Yes."

"Awesome!"

You've never seen someone so excited about stirring sauce out of a jar.

"Have a good day," Ricky says after a moment, his cheeks warming. Wow, this is... weird. He's at the sink, washing up dishes, and you're getting ready to go work on cars and... he feels like this should be reversed, but that would be sexist, right? Or would it? He's not sure, you've always been a more hands-on kind of person anyway, but all the power to you.

You send him an amused look as you drop your plate into the sink steadily filling with bubbles from the soap. "You too, honey bun. Don't wash too many dishes today, okay?"

He rolls his eyes, grimacing at you as you chuckle.

Yeah, this marriage is going to go just great.

Tags: @svintsandghosts @batgirl09151997 @ nokomihorror @ryansitkowskiswifey, @theoneandonlykymberlee, maelloute, musicsexandpizza69, jojomiwbvb6

#ricky horror #ricky olson #miw #miw fan fiction #motionless in white #ricky horror fan fiction #ricky horror imagines

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alitheamateur · 5 years

Text

The Grind- Chapter 31

A/N: Here we are, my precious jewels. The end of my own little era, but the beginning of a renewed passion. This story brought back a love for story-telling that I had long neglected, and although most don't understand the sentiment, I owe a lot of happiness to these characters. The Grind sprouted during a very dark, confusing, heartbreaking time in my life, and it became such a welcomed distraction from my emotional spiral. This piece of fiction will be held near and dear to my soul for all of eternity, and my heart beats with love for each & every one of you who has shared a kind word.

One last time, The Grind.

I was grateful that even over all the unsteady commotion, the gravel of his familiar voice busted through to my eardrums. The thud of my pulse hammered, already bringing along the gift of a taxing migraine that would only worsen once a pair of fists lashed into my skull. I was dreading the aching road of recovery before Kat and I had even thrown a punch.

Hers came first though. Quick, and robust it met the girlish roundness of my chin, shaking quivers over every hair on my skin. My footing staggered, and I swear to you my very eyeballs rattled. The early stages of pain I felt didn’t talk long to drag back the memo to my brain to protect my face as much as possible as she obsessively stalked to land an even more brutal hit the next time. I swished the blood laced spit around my jaws to wet my tongue, and settled in for war.

She could tell the blow had combusted an inkling of uncertainty in my spirit, and it only fed her desire for violence. With a random bout of bravery, I pointed an attempted swing for her ribs, connecting successfully to the tight ripples of her abdomen. Seeing as she hadn’t foreseen the body shot, it crippled her standing straight stance, and I was able to rock two more fists to the opposite cage of her ribs. Something felt off for a second when I heard her gasp for a breath when I released the wind from her belly. I felt… bad.

Violent nature was foreign to me, and I let myself feel briefly apologetic on the inside watching her suffer for air. Then, the fighting side of me rose to rule. I lobbed a club-foot kick to her chiseled thigh, victoriously capturing her balance. However, I couldn’t completely escape my often clumsy tactics, and I let my own legs tangle with hers as she dropped buoyantly to the mat.

I scurried with fluster to try and reach my standing position before Bex, but unfortunately her quickness outweighed my own. I brought my forearms to my face, doubling them as a shield of armor for my breakable nose. With her every delivery of a fist, my head bounced like a ball on the soft mat below. I prayed for her to tire, or somehow make a careless mistake and allow my escape. I could already feel the tenderness of plum-shaded bruises forming up and down my arms, and I just wanted to cower in Colton’s arms.

Where was his voice? Why couldn’t I hear the assuring yells of he and Tia?

Just as my arms began to weaken in defeat, the squealing of the timekeeper’s bell halted her strike.

Katrina stood to her feet with ease, running for the cool swig of water waiting in her corner, leaving a shaken and hallucinating swirl of stars swimming like a halo around my skull. I tried to assess myself on the mat, still surveying what damage may have been done. Aside from my fractured pride.

“Baby! Get up, c’mon! Get over here, Liv!”

I frenzied to my feet shakily, remembering the very limited seconds I had to steal a second with my coaches in between rounds. Tia tried to masquerade her reaction of pity, but the squinting sickness of her eyes told all the tale I needed. I didn’t feel much pain, other than a tight pressure settling inside my nostrils, so the unknown markings couldn’t have been of much severity, right?

Suddenly, settling on the 3-legged stool for a ticking minute of a break, I caught glimpse of the very sopped, very stained towel that Colt applied to my stuffy nose. He squeezed gently, and his touch seemed to re-apply sensation to my busted snout. I yelped as his massaged as gingerly as his rocky hands would, and plugged the holes with some sort of swabs to drink up the blood-spill.

“You good, Liv? Hey… Look at me, right now. Look in my eyes. Do you wanna keep going?” Colton shook my shoulders, demanding a surefire answer. Bless his soul, there was nothing but devoted protection and the will to be my strong tower in his silver eyes.

“Have a little faith, remember?”

He rehearsed his best fake smile, and slung the ruined rag over his shoulder to scoop up my cushioned seat when the ref tapped a finger to his imaginary watch hurrying us to pick up the pace.

Besides the whelped imprint of my ankle bone on the upper of her thigh, Bex would enter the second round only rested and ready for more. She would go viciously after my obviously very broken nose, so it was my responsibility to protect it like a mother bird to her helpless young.

Two nippy little jabs, but thankfully she had missed. The dodging alone of her efforted hits made my entire face spasm with pain, and I was already daydreaming about the blue-green blossoms of bruise I would wake up to in the morning. If I even made it that far…

“Go after that leg, Liv! She’s tryin’ to baby it, so get after her!”

With Tia’s help, I did begin to notice the awkward teeter to Katrina’s steps. She was hobbling in the slightest, and her leg carried a barely detectable limp of uneasiness. If I could numb that leg enough, and swipe her footing to crash, I knew I could get her. I needed just a cracked window of opportunity, and I wouldn’t let my submission training go to waste.

I fell into rhythm with bizarre fist fakes, confusing her reflexes when taking shot after shot at her leg. With unyielding focus, I beat the tender skin of her thigh with kicks like a well-oiled meat tenderizer, the stretch of my own groin muscle also suffering.

Dribbles from my nose spilled blood down my chest onto the mat, painting a slickness beneath our feet. The metallic flavored goo gurgled in the back of my throat, and I wanted to spit free my mouthguard and guzzle the strongest proof of some sort of dark alcohol to curb its stain on my tongue. I made a mental note that Colt make a liquor run once I settled into the featherbed in our hotel room.

As Katrina and I tiptoed on light feet ‘round the cage, I’d give side glances to Colt. Once finding his foot standing in the seat of my stool with his elbow resting on a knee, his mouth taut behind the hand his rested over his lips. Assessing. Strategizing. Criticizing?

Another moment his forearms interlocked over his beating chest, toes tapping in a wide stance, and even a barely traceable half-smile sitting across his face. Just knowing he was there, close to me, only a few arms-lengths away should danger really arrive, slowed the pace of my overbeating heart. I’d win this for him. For me, of course. But, it was decided nevertheless that Katrina’s very first loss tonight, would ultimately rally a victory for me, my camp, and my Colton.

As the round ended, Bex felt the buff weight of pressure stalking around her. As I turned, this time much more aware, towards my corner for a rushed break between blows, she smashed both palms to the blades of my shoulder, childishly showing me to the ground. Our ref consumed her with a tight embrace, quite firmly chastising into her ear. Thankfully for the much ,much needed backup, I bounced out of the way for Willow to swallow Tia inside a resisting bearhug, as I attempted to handle Colton’s own bursting of incoherent fury.

“Handle your fuckin’ girl, Tyler! You and I both knew we ain’t here for any shit like that!” My rumbling bear growled across the mat to Kat’s fumbling coach. “I see anything like that again, and me ‘n you may have to borrow this damn cage for a short minute.”

“Hey, hey, hey! Colton, hey. Stop, baby. C’mon! Look at me, I’m good, ok?” I purred and hummed into his hot ear. Hoping some sort of soothing spell would lull some calmness back into his raging eyes.

“COLT, STOP. Shit! Take a deep breath, Colton. Don’t ruin this for me, damn it! I’m fine, babe. I promise.” I was rambling to an empty shell. His spirit was climbing the rafters like a demonic spirt lurking above the darkest shadows. “Please…”

With that simplest plea, the pink of his cheeks reappeared, and his lips relaxed. I think his teeth cracked from the tense of his unbreakable jaws.

He shuddered, as if feeling his spirit mold back into his body, and turned away from Bex and her coach. Placing two firm paws atop my shoulders, he hurried me to a seat, kneeling himself to eye level.

“Beat. Her.” A growl buzzed from the back of his raw throat.

He knew her sideshow had embarrassed me, and if I wouldn’t let him intervene in my honor, I best do it myself.

Colton kissed me. Hard. Teetering the stool on its back legs. And if I couldn’t win this fight with that kind of motivation, I never had a chance to begin with.

The referee had taken some extra moments to scold Katrina for the uncalled for, untimely reaction, and began ushering Tia and Colt towards the cage door.

I hissed an engrossed inhale, focusing best I could to even out the pace of my tottering, rambunctious heart.

But my heart would be the only thing I would slow.

Barely registering the ‘ting’ of our timekeepers bell, I lunged forward sighting in on the nose protruding from the middle of her smug face. The girl hadn’t given a single clear peep at her face the entire match, but it seemed in that moment that fate had tied her hands for the upper hand of my fist.

Her eyes wept instantly at the burn of her nasal bone cracking in half. But that didn’t stop me. My humanity switched long flipped with the scent of a wound, and I was only out for blood no matter the cost. With battered knuckles, and uncontrolled swings, the light of defense dulled behind my opponents’ eyes.

A happen-stance shot deep into the mushy socket of her eye obliterated her focus, and the cage rumbled and rattled when her body fell limber at my feet. Until I was torn from her, and the match was called, I wouldn’t stop the invasive assault and risk any odds of a comeback.

Her head bobbled like a bottle cap rolling over the waves of a high tide ocean, and it seemed the way her eyelashes batted in slow motion that they themselves were even too heavy for her to bear. Our official closely observed her behavior, watching for signs of drooping unconsciousness, and any other medical qualifications for calling the match.

With one roll of my knuckles over her chin, her knee buckled at the bend and sent her tumbling. Trying to resist the inevitable admirably, in true fighters’ fashion, Katrina’s feeble, worn down body emptied of any overcoming abilities. Tears began to twine with red leaking down her face when the ring ref signaled to the timekeeper, calling the bout.

TKO.

Colton’s obsessing pride, uncontainable joy, and earnest tears of content dissipated whatever inkling of patience he was born with, and he kicked his lead foot into the cage door, bending loose the hinges to get to me. As my left hand was raised in baffling triumph, he pulled it right back into his own, sliding back into to place the sparkling gemstone on my ring finger.

Colton’s sentimental tears turned loose into an unbroken stream, his chest choking free chuckling sobs as he folded at the knee, and buried his reddening face into the pumping breaths of my belly. I could feel his mumblings vibrate into me, and his mouth movements tickling the bare skin above my waistband. Pulling him free and seeking his face, I combed through his shagged hair with giggling of my own.

“Baby. Hey! What is it, Colt?!”

I adored the way his smile danced with his tears, the odd coupling a beautiful one.

“You are fucking amazing, Liv Elliott! And fuck me for ever thinking you didn’t belong here.”

With an eager, rising fever to kiss his forever gorgeous lips, I cupped his face and willed him into me. His hands wormed under the crook of my arms and suddenly the ground disappeared from beneath my tired feet. No protest present, I hooked the clutches of my legs about his abdomen, and captured him. If I had any breath in me after the battle, he would’ve sucked it clear from my lungs with his smothering display of a kiss. I heard cameras snapping, analysts and fellow writers begging my name for a statement, but all the world might as well have been a foreign, unpopulated wonderland where only my soul and his could survive.

The fusing of his plush-skinned mouth with my own lit my spirit on fire, and I considered dragging him to the courthouse first thing the following day to marry him on the spot, just to be able to pair his own name with the word ‘husband’.

“Do your thing, champ. They wanna hear from you,” Colton plopped me down to meet to ground. “I’ll be right here. Always”

He eased himself backwards, dismissing himself from the sight of cameras and attention, pushing me to bathe in the limelight of the results of my hard work. He may not have been holding my hand in the literal sense, but the glow of his cheery cheeks as he watched me share the rundown from my point-of-view with the newspapers comforted me. I spied Tia even chatting at his side, with some strange sentiment resembling a genuine smile, as my parents weaved through the aisles.

Standing in my own portrayal of center stage, feeling the gratifying weight of his diamond promise on my finger, his last name soon-to-be mine on the wrist of my blood-stained gloves, and the unpredicted win of an MMA bout under my belt, there weren’t enough words in a Webster to define my state. Whether things would never be the same again, I knew all change would be for the better with the treasure of my Colton tucked in my back pocket for cherished keeping. With a determined heart, a driving passion, and maybe a few more callouses on my hands than before, I would strap down and relish in the ride to come. Lots of work, even more play, and back to The Grind.

TAGS: @torialeysha @eap1935 @mollybegger-blog @littleluna98

#Tom Hardy #tomhardy #tomhardyfanfiction #tomhardyfanfic #tommy conlon #Elizabeth Olsen #thegrind

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hey-hey-chan · 5 years

Text

Grincherella - Chan

❀ Comedy/fluff/romance with a dash of angst (Cinderella AU)

❀ Word count: 9, 284

❀ It is THAT time of year again, yes, Christmas season and y/n seems to hate everything and anyone who talks about it. Once she is forced to attending a Christmas party, she is forced to sing, onstage, with the cute boy in her psych class. But the thing is: he doesn’t recognize her. Will she finally let go of her troubled past and present or will she let her insecurities haunt her forever?

❀ A/N: ummmm a mix between Cinderella and High School Musical ? idk what i was thinking but i felt nostalgic i guess .,,, this is the longest fic i’ve EVER written pLEASE dont let this flop AHAHAHA /sweats/ but i also feel bad for making u sit through 9k words /sweats again/ so do what u want i guess

P.S I LOVE YOU ALL! this is a treat for you guys who have been missing my writing!! now im on break so im back in the game !!

---------

“MERRY CHRISTMAS!” I suddenly got a puff of snow to the face, which made me crinkle my red nose in disgust. “Y/N!!” I slammed my book shut and glared at the boy.

“What?” Jisung giggled and sat on the bench next to me.

“It’s funny.”

“What’s so funny about throwing wet snow in someone’s face when they’re trying to read.” I pointed at my book exaggeratedly, a signal for him to leave. He didn’t take it.

Jisung fixed his scarf, making sure it knocked into my face as usual. He then proceeded to scooch closer to me, which was the final line. “Jisung? What’s your deal? What do you want?” I finally caved. The boy only came to me when he is bored, wants him, or is bored; all in that order. Don’t get me wrong, he was my best friend, but sometimes I just wanted to punch him in the face.

He chuckled and kicked his feet in the snow. I noted they were adorned with new black snow boots. “I don’t know, I’m just in the Christmas spirit I guess.” I crinkled my nose. “Oh c’mon, I still don’t get why you don’t like Christmas so much. That’s like... illegal.” I rolled my eyes at his exaggeration.

“Just ‘cause everyone else likes it, doesn’t mean I have to.” I slammed my book shut and looked at the boy in the eyes. “So, it would be great if you would stop pestering me about it because you’re not going to change my mind.”

I got up from the bench and started to walk off to my next class, already starting my day off feeling irritated.

It wasn’t like I hated Christmas, I just hated when people started to be fake because of is. Kids would act nicer to their parents and relatives to get more money and loot for the winter, but return to the devilish children they are when January rolls around. Cuffing season starts and then couples start to pop up, only for the intent of getting gifts and a “cute” Christmas romance for the holidays. Then, their forced relationship ends. Everything about this season was fake, fake, and more fake.

And I like real.

I stopped by a coffee shop and ordered my usual drink: black coffee. It tasted bitter, but I liked the harsh taste of it. It woke me up.

I walked into my early psychology class and took a seat at the back, my usual spot. I immediately was greeted to the group of loud and rambunctious students who sat in the front row. I groaned internally but simply leaned back in my chair and plugged in my earbuds.

Suddenly, I felt a presence beside me and out of reflex, I took my earbuds out.

“Good morning, y/n.” I immediately smiled at his cheeky voice.

“Morning, Chan.” The light haired boy frowned and gave me the famous dimple that killed all the girls on campus. Besides me of course.

“Aw, not even a good in front of that? Now how am I supposed to know what kind of morning I should have?” He pouted, tugging off his scarf and beanie since the room we were in was overly heated.

I scoffed and shook my head. “What’s so good about it, dude? Our final is today and I feel like death himself.” I joked. It was true, our final was today, and yes, I felt horrible, but even I couldn’t help myself from feeling giddy about the end of the year.

Chan smile and leaned closer to my desk. “Aw c’mon, y/n, it’s almost Chris-”

I groaned and made a motion to put my earbuds back in. “I swear to God, if I hear one more person talk bout Christmas, I’m going to explode.” I sighed. Chan broke out into cheerful laughter, like he always does, and shook his head at my reaction.

“You know, you’re the only person I’ve ever met who hates Christmas so much. How can you hate it?? Everyone’s in a better mood, everyone’s in a relationship so you don’t have to run away from boys anymore-” He nudged me jokingly while I rolled my eyes. “And plus, you love peppermint.”

I nodded, affirming he made a good point. “Ok, you’re right, I do love peppermint.” He was about to give me the cheekiest smile but I cut him off. “BUT, I hate that everyone is so happy this season when I swear everyone looked like they were about to cut me in half in the other 11 months. Plus, my devil for step siblings are shitloads nicer in December but once it hits New Years, all of a sudden they’re stealing my stuff again and pretending to be each other, ‘cause you know...”

“Twins.” He finished my sentence. I nodded and fiddled with my necklace.

I’ll admit, ever since my dad got remarried, it had never been the same. It’s not like I hated my step mom... all the time... but she wasn’t mom. My mom had always treated me like an adult, even when I wasn’t. I had matured faster than all the kids in my grade, and always had felt like an old soul compared to everyone else.

Mom used to let me have a sip of her eggnog, that had a little bit of burbon in it, and it wasn’t a big deal. But in my stepmom’s house, it wasn’t allowed, neither was running up the stairs or listening to the music while walking because I could “trip”. I had the same rules as her children, and it was irritating at times. Ok all the time.

“Hm, well I hope that some day a person will change that for you.” Chan said melodramatically. I chuckled comfortingly, but I knew that would never happen. No one could do Christmas like my mom.

“Just like how Chaeyoung did that for you?” I teased. His pale cheeks turned a soft red color, blending into his red sweated. I laughed even harder. “Oh come on, you cannot still be embarrassed about your girlfriend, you’ve been dating for a month now.”

Chan tsked and slumped back in his chair. “See, you said two completely different things. Chaeyoung is not my girlfriend, but we are dating. Different. People who have dated someone can understand the difference.” He teased. Usually that would offend people, but I let the insult roll off my back.

“You act like it’s a bad thing I’ve never dated, it’s normal, weirdo. Also, I know you Chan, and I know that you’re a hopeless romantic who just started ‘dating’ someone because it’s cuffing season and you want someone to hold your hand in the snow at night.” I spat back.

Before he could say anything, the teacher walked in, signaling the start of the final. I got out my number 2 pencils and gave a thumbs up to Chan.

“Good luck.” I whispered.

“Break a leg.”

------

“Finally!!” I screamed into my house when I got home. Finals season was officially over and winter break had commenced. I flung my backpack into my room and plopped down on my bed. My back had ached from carry my backpack around everywhere and from the unneeded stress from school. It was finally time to relax.

Suddenly, I heard a slight buzz to my left. I groaned and looked at the text message.

It was from my stepmom, saying ‘will be home late today, theres some shrimp in the fridge, u can make pasta’.

Well, that was a long vacation.

I rolled out of bed and threw on a flannel, ready to cook some pasta. It wasn’t hard, but I just hated deshelling shrimp. It was time consuming, even though shrimp was one of my favorite foods, I would rather someone else cook it for me to be honest.

After I cleaned the shrimp, I got out the pasta, preparing all my ingredients before I had to start actually cooking something. But before I could do that, I heard my phone ring.

I rolled my eyes at the caller ID: Han Jisung, aka, Han Solo in my phone.

“What.” I answered.

“So....” He paused. I rolled my eyes

“Jisung, I’m cooking dinner, just get on with it.” I heard rustling in the back ground, which meant he was laying down in bed. Lucky him.

“Fine, fine, so, you know how I’m going to that holiday party thing tomorrow that’s for like 3 days and 2 nights right?” I nodded, but realized he couldn’t see me.

“Yup, why, you need me to watch Pepper?”

“Nope, my sister said she can take him for the days I’m gone, but anyways, my friend, he really needs a date and he-”

“Jisung, no-”

“Ok, so I already knew you would say no, so I already said ye-”

“YOU DID WHAT?” I screamed into the phone.

I could feel my heart beat pick up in panic and I had to set down my phone to calm down. “Ok, ok y/n, I know what you’re thinking and I’m really sorry but-”

“No you’re not Jisung, you love this don’t you? UGH, why do you always have to set me up with people?” I felt whiny but I couldn’t help myself. I hated when anyone, especially Jisung, tried to set me up on dates. They always ended terribly where either I, or the dude, was awkward or the thing just never clicked.

Most of the dudes weren’t even friend material for me, it was a terrifying experience.

“Ok, but look, this time, the dude is really a good guy. He’s funny, talkative, charming, attractive, good at singing-”

“Oh then why don’t you just date him?” I mocked. Jisung made a whiny noise and said “Y/n, please, you know I’m already going with Naeun, I made a commitment!”

I stared at the bowl of dead shrimp, wishing I could be that chill for one day. “God Jisung, you know how uncomfortable this makes me, why would you do this?” I finally said after a long time of silence.

He sighed and I knew he truly felt guilty. “Ok, I swear I’m really, really sorry. But this time, I think this guy is at least a good friend match for you. Plus, he’s my friend, so he’s got to be a good friend for you, right??”

“Please y/n? I’ll make it up to you I promise!”

I tapped my foot rapidly, trying to make a decision quickly.

“Jisung, even if I say yes, my stepmom is a whole nother story. I need to watch the twins, remember?”

Jisung sighed like he had forgot I had siblings. I guess it was even a new thing for me sometimes, even though it had been seven years.

“Ok, fine, if she says yes, are you game?”

“Game.” I muttered. He squealed in delight. “But don’t think I’m not mad at you, ok? I’m still mad.” I pouted, even though I couldn’t really be mad at him when I had just finished finals. My world seemed like it was so much calmer now, yet it never got exciting in the first place.

“Ok, ok, I’ll make it up to you, all of it! It’ll be great, we’ll have so much fun! AAAH!”

I hung up the phone before he could convince me to do anything else. I sighed, opening the box of pasta.

“What have I gotten myself into?”

-----------

Once I was done with the pasta, I heard the door unlock, soon followed by rambunctious screaming and yelling.

“Heeyoung!! I can’t believe you asked Jake for his number, I called dibs first!”

“Oh shut up, he was way into me anyways.”

Suddenly, I heard some sort of wrestling on the ground.

“Girls, girls, c’mon now, you both can have Jake! Remember, if you guys behave, then I’ll get you two new phones.” At the mention of a new phone, the girls both shut up immediately.

The girls were twelve years old now as Hanna, my stepmom, already had them with her previous marriage. At 12, I never remembered being so spoiled and entitled, it was disturbing to say the least.

“Oh, y/n, is dinner done?” She said like she just noticed my presence. I nodded and flicked off the stove.

“Yup, just finished cooking, you guys eat first, I’m not hungry.” I lied. I was starving, but I hated eating with them and I knew they would rather eat with my as well. That’s just how things worked in this household.

“Ok, you go upstairs then.” Hanna’s attention then turned to her girls who were trying their hardest to not tear out each other’s hair. It was hilarious and sad all the same time.

Before I could go upstairs, I heard the doorbell ring, which meant Jisung was here.

“It’s Jisung!” I called out to the table and they didn’t really pay me any attention besides the two girls who were giggling. Yes, I knew they had a crush on Jisung. Yes, it was weird.

I threw the door open and saw the boy all bundled up in his bright white winter jacket. I raised a brow. “You’re really gonna-”

Before I could finish, he walked into the house and went right up to my mom, who adored him, only because Jisung was rich, funny, nice, and good looking.

“Jisung! You’re here, oh gosh, did you have dinner? I made dinner, go ahead and have some.” I wanted to correct her lie, but it would do nothing except make me feel awkward. Jisung raised a brow at me but said nothing either.

“Oh no thank you, I just had dinner at my house. But, I just came over to ask you a very important question, Hanna.” I could tell my stepmom loved the attention and was already blushing. God, I hate Jisung and love him all at the same time.

“Of course, darling.” She cooed at him, her botox hindering her from smiling widely.

Jisung smiled and brushed his hair out of his face. “So, there was this little get-together thing that I wanted to bring y/n to, and it’s only for a couple nights and-”

Hanna shook her head and set her fork down loudly. “Jisung, honey, you cannot ask for stuff like that. I like you a lot but you know y/n needs to stay home and watch the girls. I work and can’t be tied down all day.”

Jisung feigned sadness, which I knew hit some pity points for Hanna. “Hanna, please, it’s a holiday party and-”

Hanna scoffed. “Ok, we both know y/n hates anything Christmas, she’s the grinch in girl form.”

“Ok, yes, but she promised me she would go because it won’t just be about Christmas, but about meeting new people, and hanging out in a nice lodge. So please, can she go, only for a few nights?”

I felt my heart thump rapidly, for some reason, hoping she’ll say yes. I shook away the thought as quickly as it came; I hated Christmas and the snow and the mountains, which is what I would be facing if I went to this party.

“Well...”

Everyone’s ears peaked up to hear her answer.

“Well, y/n shouldn’t make promises she can’t keep.” Hanna continued to down her dinner and Jisung turned his head to shake his head in failure. I smirked and shrugged my shoulders.

“Sorry Jisung, it’s just that me and the girls are going to this huge Christmas party tomorrow night as well and I need someone to watch the dog. You know how they get.” Hanna lied lamely and took a bite of shrimp, that was her favorite food as well. “But that’s ok, y/n hates Christmas anyways, I’m sure you can make cooler and better friends at the party anyways.”

Five years ago, those words would’ve hurt me, but now they were just annoying. I couldn’t wait til I finished college and didn’t have to depend on her for college tuition. I wasn’t like the normal girls in the fairytales; I wasn’t exceptionally smart and heading to Princeton or an amazing dancer like Selena Gomez, I was just... me.

Jisung didn’t stick around to hear her annoying jabber and made up some excuse. “Well, my mom is expecting me home and I need to pack me for my trip. It was nice seeing you guys.” The all waved to him as I just shrugged at him as he left. He looked defeated in the moment, but with the evil glint in his eyes, I could tell this wasn’t over.

------

“Don’t forget to feed Princess!! She needs some real food too so just cook her some fried rice, ok!?”

“OK!” The door shut loudly, signaling I finally had the house to myself.

I covered my mouth with a yawn, feeling warm and cozy in my flannel pajamas. My hair was tied loosely into two braids.

“Thank God I don’t have to go out tonight,” I whispered to myself. I felt bad that Jisung had to go to this event by himself since his girlfriend was going with a group of friends. But I didn’t feel bad enough to go.

I pulled out my guitar and started to strum lightly on the strings. I never could play and sing when they were home; the twins always complained about my music being too loud when they were studying, even though they never studied.

“All I hear is raindrops

Falling on the rooftop

Oh baby tell me why’d you have to go

Cause this pain I feel

It wont go away

And today I’m officially missing you”

I gently strummed the strings on my guitar, feeling the groove of the music.

Breaking my magic, I heard my phone buzz. I set my guitar down on my bed and looked at my phone.

‘open your window’ -jisung

I scoffed and popped open my window and somehow, Jisung jumped inside my room. That’s what I get for not chopping down that humongous tree I guess.

“Jisung... what the hell are you doing here?” I finally asked in confusion. “You’re gonna be late to the party.” I deadpanned slowly. Jisung shrugged off all the snow on his body, leaving my carpet wet. He was dressed with raggedly clothes and a black mask over his face. Of course he would go as a ninja. For some reason, the party planner decided that the ball should be a Christmas costume party... interesting.

“HEY, asshole, what do you-”

“You know, I love hearing you sing, why don’t you do it in front of-.” My cheeks were now as red as cherries from the anger and compliment.

“Jisung, what are you doing here?” He shrugged and adjusted his mask.

“Well, um, so we are gonna go to that party.”

I paused at his words and stared at him in silence.

“No... I’m not going because you couldn’t convince Hanna. Done deal, bye!” I tried to shove him out, but obviously I wasn’t strong enough.

“Y/n, y/n, listen, listen.” I crossed my arms at the desperation in his voice. “The girls and Hanna are all gone tonight, and probably tomorrow morning-”

“Jisung, they’re coming home at one am, and it takes an hour to just get to the location of your party, and maybe even longer in the snow. I’m not gonna risk it.” I walked away from him, hoping he wouldn’t follow.

“Y/n, for Pete’s sake, you never do anything bad or even a little rebellious. You stick to rules and you stick to routine, and yes, I know it’s ‘cause of your mom-”

“She’s not my mom.”

“Right, sorry, I mean Hanna, she controls you but she’s finally not here! That’s gotta be a sign, right??” He spoke with such a desperation that I almost felt sorry for him, and myself, but what could I do? I was stuck here until she came back!

“Jisung, really, I can’t just sneak out, what if she catches me? There goes my college tuition and I can’t even finish college and become a choir teacher like I’ve always wanted. It’s just... I don’t wanna risk it.” I said lamely.

For a few moments, Jisung was silent, which was extremely rare. He sat on my bed, making it creak slightly. I felt like the atmosphere was tense, even though I didn’t know why.

“I just... you never take chances y/n, the party is gonna be amazing and all I want is my best friend there.” I sighed and patted him on the head.

“Jisung, I’m not Cinderella, I can’t sneak out of the house and get back before one.” At those words, he shot up and stared at me.

“You know what? If Cinderella can do it, we can! We can just leave the party at midnight and then we’ll make it home before one, I swear on it. It’s not like the road is crowded when it’s that late anyways.”

I laid in bed, the plan not sounding too bad when he said it that way.I tried to protest, but I had little fight left since he was making such a good argument.

“I don’t even have a costume.” I mumbled lamely. He raised a brow and gave me his signature smirk. “Oh what this time, Jisung?”

-----

Before I could comprehend what we were doing, we were sorting through my closet and dug out something I never thought I would be pulling out.

“Really, my mom’s wedding dress... why.” I spoke, but I was quite breathless. I couldn’t imagine wearing something so beautiful.

Jisung shook the top off the box and shrugged. “It’s perfect for the winter and perfect for a costume as well. You know your mom, she loved...”

I smiled sadly. “Yeah, she loved winter and Christmas.” I mumbled quietly, but I lost my voice once I saw the dress. I covered my mouth and pulled out the outfit.

“You’re trying that on now.” Jisung yelped.

I took my time trying on the dress; as I stared at myself in the mirror, I was astonished by the detailing.

It was a beautiful, pale white dress that was adorned in glitter and sparkles. There were small flowers which resembled snowflakes that fell over the poofy skirt. The cut wasn’t too low, but wasn’t too high either. The sleeves were decked out in glitter, and somehow, it fit me perfectly.

“Y/n, we don’t have all day now!” I hurried up and walked out. As he caught sight of me, he dropped my phone. “Damn, you look so much like your mom.” He whispered. Jisung was one of my only friends who had known me when my mom was still alive and that’s probably why he was still friends with me, because I wasn’t the nicest person after she passed.

“Ok, hurry up, Grincherella, we’re getting in the car.”

-------

This was the most fun I’d ever had. We were jamming out to classics in the car and not caring who were waking up.

Jisung turned down the music and shouted to tell me something.

“Oh yeah, that guy who I sold you out too? He doesn’t need a date anymore, I felt really bad so I told him you weren’t looking for a serious date and he said he’d rather go alone anyways. So now we get to party together, WOOP!” He shouted turned up the music again. I almost forgot about my so-called date and now I was happy I didn’t have one. I could just hide in the corner and eat all the food they had.

Soon, we arrived at the venue, and I couldn’t even hide that it was beautiful. There was a fountain up front that was decked out in Christmas decor. There was a machine that projected snowflakes on the building that made the snow around us stand out. And also, it was huge.

“Oh shit.” Jisung suddenly said. I turned to him in surprise.

“What??”

“I forgot a mask for you.” He mumbled. I shrugged.

“That’s fine, I don’t really need one.” I noted. He glared at me.

“That’s a lie, hold on, lemme pull out my party box.” I was about to question what that was until the boy pulled out a box from the back seat and started to rummage through it. “YES!” He said pulling out a black mask that was lacey and probably too beautiful for me to wear. “Ok, it’s not white like I wanted it to be, but... hmhmmh hold on.”

I groaned as he pulled out a paintbrush and some white paint and glitter. “Hold still.” Before I could question him, he put on my mask and started to draw white swiggle lines from the mask and out. He layered silver glitter on me and brushed some glitter all around my face and neck.

“I love being friends with an art major.” He let out a chuckle and threw the art stuff in the box.

“You look hot, I hope you get laid tonight or else this all will be in vain.” I rolled my eyes.

“Please, I’d be lucky to even get someone to stare at me.” Jisung laughed and helped me out of the car. The cold air hit my arms, making them erupt with goosebumps.

“Oh they’ll be staring all right. Now c’mon!”

-----

If the outside was already wild, the inside was even crazier. Music was blaring through the speakers, people were grinding on each other and I’m sure some people were blatantly just making out. This is why I never leave my house.

“C’mon grinch, at least look alive.” I rolled my eyes and tried to hide myself as stares started to come my way. “Don’t look so nervous, they’re looking ‘cause you’re h o t.” I slapped his arm and chuckled, feeling nervous at all the attention.

Before the two of us could get far, I felt Jisung being pulled away from me.

“JISUNG! Baby!” I looked to my side and saw all of Jisung’s friends. Naeun had pulled him into a deep kiss, one that I felt awkward to look at.

“Oh hey, y/n, you look so pretty!” Naeun greeted happily, opening her arms for a hug. Honestly, I never liked the girl, but she was a good fake nice I guess. I smiled widely at her and hugged her back.

“You look stunning as well!” I exclaimed. “All of you guys look really cool.” I complimented to the entire group.

“You look hot too, y/n, who knew you could dress up so well?” One of the boys exclaimed, making me feel a bit embarrassed. Jisung rolled his eyes.

“Whatever, let’s go get some drinks.” As they all went to get drinks, I pulled Jisung back.

“No drinks until after you’re back at the party, I am not going to die or kill anybody when sitting in a car with you, got it?” The boy nodded and gulped, knowing I would actually run over him if he drove under the influence.

The rest of the night moved by slowly, until the party started to pick up at 11.

“OK GUYS, EVERYBODY ON THE DANCE FLOOR!” A crowd of people started to swarm into the middle of the venue, making me feel restricted and uncomfortable. In the corner of my eye, I saw Naeun pull Jisung into the crowd, leaving me to fend for myself.

Great, I expected this.

I immediately stepped back and found a way out of the crowd and ending up in the corner, like I had imagined.

“Stupid Jisung, forcing me to come out here.” I pulled out my phone that showed I only had 30 minutes left. Suddenly, the DJ stopped played music and another due stepped on the stage.

“Ok people, so tonight, like usual, it’s our annual karaoke night! Since most people hate singing in front of people, it’s best that we have our costumes on tonight am I right?!” The crowed screamed and whooped. It was a gigantic crowd, probably the most people I’ve seen together in my entire life. Ok that’s a lie but still.

I drowned out the rest of the yelling and went back to my phone, mindlessly watching food videos online until someone had sat next to me. I tried to ignore the person, but he kept getting closer and closer, and me? I got further and further.

“Hi.” The dude stated. I looked over to him and noticed he was dressed as a mummy. Clever. Not.

“Um, hi.” I said to not be rude. I shouldn’t assume he was hitting on me, maybe he just wanted to be friends.

“You’re beautiful, what is a girl like you sitting here alone?” Ok scratch that precious thought. I rolled my eyes and scooted away.

“’Cause I want to?” I spat back. Before the creepy guy could advance even more, the strobe lights started to go crazy.

“SO PEOPLE! Who wants to sing first?!” Numerous people were screaming and others were shoving their friends forward. I somewhat enjoyed the multiple people becoming targets.

“ME ME!” I heard being screamed louder than anyone else. I watched as a blonde haired boy jumped onstage. His back was facing my side, but I could tell he was dressed as Prince Charming.

“Well, Chan, isn’t it time we’ve seen you again?” Chan and the MC hugged.

Wait... Chan ...

My heart raced faster at the realization when the boy turned around. He had a white mask over the top of his face, but I could recognize that face anymore.

“Oh shit.”

“For those who don’t know, Chan is the best singer we have here and he’s here every year, what a guy! Without him, most of the girls wouldn’t even show up AHAHAHA” The MC laughed loudly into the mic and I flinched back to cover my ears.

Suddenly, Chan’s eyes danced across mine, giving me a mini heart attack. I locked eyes with him, unsure of what I wanted him to do. After a few moments, he just looked away, making the whole interaction anti-climatic.

Wow, he doesn’t recognize me.

I felt part relief that he wouldn’t make me in a wedding dress and attending a holiday party a big deal. But part sadness that a person I considered my friend couldn’t even recognize me when I was dressed as something else.

“Well, let’s stop the chatter and get this party started! You know how it goes, you start with a duet first to break the ice!” The crowd oohed and awed while I just wanted the clock to hit midnight as soon as possible.

“So what’s gonna happen is that this light.” The MC pointed to a giant yellow light that seemed quite intimidating. “Is going to land on one of you lucky people who is going to get to sing with Chan, ok? Everyone excited??” Screams erupted even though I knew someone who was probably a crappy singer would get picked. 90% of these people were drunk and the other 10% were drunk AND high.

Suddenly, the light started to wave everywhere, blinding everyone’s eyes.

“Chan, you get the honor of yelling stop!” Chan took the mic gladly and closed his eyes. Typical Chan.

Before I could take off running, the light landed right on my face, warming my entire body from head to toe.

“STOP!” He yelled loudly. I felt my vision blur as everyone in the room turned and looked at me.

Fuck, shit, fuck.

“Wow, lucky Chan, choosing his Cinderella for a partner! C’mon up here, miss!” I felt my heart throb immensely as I forced myself to stand. Ok, I’m just gonna run it’s fine-

Suddenly, a group of people started to usher me to the stage, which I started to protest, but it was no use. I wobbled up on stage and tried to not look at the looming crowd.

“Well, well, aren’t you two the perfect couple? You even have matching outfits!” I glanced over to Chan shyly, and avoided all eye contact. Still, even standing so close, he couldn’t tell who I was. I guess I had never dressed up or put on makeup, and I had tons of detailing on my face so whatever.

“So, what song do you want to sing?” The MC asked me. I grew nervous, as I hadn’t chosen a song.

I turned to Chan and gestured for him to choose. Chan gave me a small smile.

“Sorry, the guest has to choose, but whatever you choose is fine with me.” I felt my face blush with his words and I was suddenly thankful I had a mask on. I felt more empowered with it on as no one would know who I was. Except for Jisung and his friends of course. Oh shit, I wonder how Jisung is reacting to this.

“Um, ok, h-how about... Rewrite the Stars?”

The MC clapped his hands and suddenly music started to gear up. I felt my palms get sweaty and my dress started to feel too big for my small pride. The lights dimmed and the venue turned dark, probably for dramatic effect. If I knew that this happened at these events, I would have not have gone. But it’s too late now.

“You can do it!” I heard from the audience. I almost smiled at Jisung’s yell, but I was too nervous for that.

The spotlight focused on Chan, making him look more ethereal than before.

“You know I want you. It’s not a secret I try to hide.” I heard Chan’s voice fill the room, melting the heart’s of all the girls around us.

I knew Chan had an amazing voice, but with him staring right at me while he was singing was a little too intense for me. I smiled gently as his singing, but then he sang the next line to the audience, which showed he knew how to own the stage. The embellishments on his shoulders dazzled in the light, making his shoulders look broader than usual.

“it’s up to you, and it's up to me No one can say what we get to be So why don't we rewrite the stars? Maybe the world could be ours Tonight.”

Shit, shit, it’s my turn real soon.

My brain turned off and I only reacted on instinct now. My palms drenched the mic and made my grip tighter, but still slippery. I closed my eyes at the light focused on me and opened my mouth.

“You think it’s easy, you think I don’t wanna run to you?” The first note was shaky, yet filled with more composure than I imagined.

“But there are mountains, and there are doors that we can’t walk through.” Slowly, I opened my eyes and turned, finally gaining confidence. I stared at Chan who was already watching me with steady eyes.

Soon, it came to the duet,

“All I want is to fly with you All I want is to fall with you So just give me all of you”

“It’s feels impossible.”

“It’s not impossible”

“Is it impossible?”

“Say that it’s possible?” Our voices blended smoother than expected, making the crowd ooh and ah. I couldn’t deny that I felt the connection too as he made his way over to me, getting into the song.

I felt him grab my hand,

“No one can say what we get to be Why don't we rewrite the stars? Changing the world to be ours”

I could hear his breathing so closely. His palm was quiet sweaty from holding the mic, but our hands felt so perfect together.

Finally, I ended the song,

“You know I want you It's not a secret I try to hide”

I let go of his hand for dramatic effect,

“But I can't have you We're bound to break and My hands are tied”

The lights turned black, and then right back on when cheers and clapping started to erupt. Once the lights turned back on, I felt the anxiety ride in my stomach again.

We were still about 10 inches apart from each other. Chan’s eyes were stuck on me; the intensity was almost enough to cut right through me.

He looked stunning in the dim light; his blonde hair was neatly done and his face was shiny from all the sweat, but he still looked beautiful.

Damn, what am I thinking? I thought.

Suddenly, he cracked a smile. “Hey, you’re a really amazing singer... but you also sound quite familiar. Have we ever met?” I smelt the alcohol on his breath, making me crinkle my nose in disgust.

My heart pounded as I thought of answers to say.

“Uhh, um, no? Not that I remember.”

I saw his famous dimple splash onto his face, which sent butterflies in my stomach. What the hell am I feeling-

I saw him lick his lips and peer above us. I raised a brow and followed his stare. The crowd started whooping and hollering as our eyes landed at the thing hovering above us.

“Huh, mistletoe.” I felt my heart thump in anticipation as he leaned much closer to me. “Is this ok?” He whispered against my lips. I answered him by finally connecting out lips.

Suddenly, the rest of the crowd disappeared and it was just us.

Just me and Chan.

He pressed deeper into me, letting me taste the alcohol on his lips. I tried to not focus on the alcohol, letting myself fall deeply into the kiss. He pulled away slowly, confusing me.

Gently, he made a move to take off my mask. Hypnotized by how close he was, I couldn’t move until I felt my phone buzz. We both flinched back at the loud alarm.

It was midnight.

Meaning it was time to go.

“Um, I’m so sorry, I have to go!” I ran down the stage, not looking back, even when he yelled “WAIT!” I could NOT be late to getting home.

I ran towards the entrance and saw Jisung already there. His eyes widened.

“We are going to have a long talk, but let’s go!” I turned back, big mistake, and saw Chan looking for me. I pushed Jisung out the door in a hurry and we both started to run towards the car.

“So, uh, wanna tell me what the fuck was that?!” Jisung panted as he got into the car and immediately started the engine.

“Jisung, I wish I could say but I HAVE NO CLUE.” I emphasized. I tossed off my mask as the thing was starting to itch like hell.

Jisung groaned and started the car. “So are we just gonna ignore how you made out with one of my friends on stage?” I turned to him with wide eyes.

“Wait, did you just say that Chan was one of your friends?” Jisung rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I did. We’ve known each other for years, he’s Changbin’s older cousin and we hang out like all the time. How the hell do you know Chan? ‘Cause no way would you let a stranger make out with you on stage, even if he was hot.” I gulped and shook my head in disbelief.

“We were in the same psychology class and we sit, sat, next to each other.” I mumbled. I fiddled with my hair nervously, unsure of where our relationship stood now. Oh wait, he doesn’t even know that was you, you’re still just classmates., ex classmates. “And he didn’t recognize me, so I’m just going to forget this ever happened.”

Jisung scoffed. “Oh hell no, that was the most intense thing I’ve ever seen you do. You’re an amazing singer, y/n, I don’t know why you hide it all the time. Plus, you had SO much sexual tension on stage.” I slapped his arm as he cackled. “You know why this is so funny?” I shook my head as he continued “it’s hilarious because Chan was the dude I was going to set you up with but cancelled.”

Suddenly, all the thoughts flooded back to me.

“Oh my god, that was Chan? Oh shit, wait, that means him and Chaeyoung aren’t seeing each other anymore?” Then I realized, I had kissed Chan, knowing he was dating someone else. But I guess I forgot. But how could I have forgotten that? “Fuck, I didn’t know that Jisung, that means I kissed him and he could have been dating Chaeyoung! I am a terrible person.” I screamed into my dress. Jisung sighed and shoved me slightly to knock some sense into me.

“Jesus Christ, y/n, it’s fine! They were never serious and Chaeyoung wasn’t that into him anyways, she was dating other people without Chan knowing, that’s why they broke up. You know Chan, hopeless romantic, he was devastated either way.” I closed my eyes in anger. Jisung was terrible at making things better. But I couldn’t focus on whatever their relationship was right now when such an intense thing happened.

“Well, it’s whatever anyways. He didn’t know it was me and in his eyes, that’s the last time he’ll ever see me again. And technically it is the last time I’ll see him because we don’t have a class together anymore. It’s done, over.” I said turning up the radio, but Jisung turned it back down.

“Y/n, you cannot just ignore this! He was so into you!” I shook my head.

“He doesn’t even know me! It’s whatever Jisung, he’ll probably forget about it the next day or give up some time over another. This conversation is over.” I made a statement by turning up the radio, the conversation truly ending this time.

-----

The days went by so slowly. My thoughts couldn’t help but constantly be surrounded by Chan, thinking about what he was doing, if he still was pining over me.

*ding dong*

I heard my doorbell ring unexpectedly, making me jump out of my bed quickly. I pulled a hoodie over my tanktop and walked downstairs. Weird, I wasn’t expecting anybody.

I pulled open the door, “hello-”

My heart stopped and so did everything else around me as I looked at the person standing at the door.

“Oh my god?? y/n??” Chan exclaimed, going in for that weird dude hand shake. I patted him on the back and pulled away, feigning a happy surprise.

“Wow, um, what are you doing here Chan?” I exclaimed. He was wearing a turtleneck with a long jacket, my favorite outfit on him.

“Jisung sent me here saying that I needed to pick up something?” I rolled my eyes and closed the door, letting him into my house. Weird.

“Yeah, um, follow me.” I walked to the kitchen with him behind me and picked up the baggie of peppermint bark. I placed it in Chan’s hands while he looked at me with confused eyes. “It’s his dad’s favorite and Jisung asks me to make it every year and on his dad’s birthday because his dad likes mine the most. Of course his dad thinks Jisung makes it, but whatever makes him happy.” I shrugged.

Chan laughed and shook his head. “Wow, that’s so Jisung!” We both chuckled at the joke but then there was a silence.

“So, uh, I should ask how you know Jisung but he talks a dude named Chan sometimes and I’m assuming that’s you?” I feigned innocence. Chan nodded.

“Yeah! I’m Changbin’s, his neighbor, cousin, so we see each other a lot.” I nodded as we slowly walked to the door again.

“Well, I guess I should apologize on Jisung’s behalf for making you come here just to pick up peppermint bark. He’s an idiot and tries to set me with random dudes sometimes.” I rolled my eyes as Chan laughed.

“Wow, we both think you need to start dating, hmmm. Time to start searching.” I couldn’t help myself from feeling a bit hurt from him wanting me to date someone else, I guess I shouldn’t expect anything from him anyways.

I forced a chuckled and shook my head. “Nah, not into the whole dating game, sorry.” I waved him goodbye as he opened the door. He turned to leave, but looked back at me.

“You know, you’re fun to talk to. We should hang out sometime.” I raised a brow, knowing that was never going to happen.

“I guess, yeah.” I noted lamely. Chan squinted his eyes at me and laughed.

“Wow, trying to spare my feelings now?” I blushed, caught in a lie. He just laughed though. “It’s fine, y/n. I know where you live now so you can’t escape me.” He laughed as he playfully punched my shoulder.

As he stepped out the door, he looked back up at the top of it. “Oh what, is that a mistletoe?” I furrowed my eyebrows in shock and looked up. There was nothing. He broke out into laughter as I turned red in the face.

“Dude, why I was about to barf.” I joked.

He chuckled and put his hands in his pockets. “If there was a mistletoe there, would you have kissed me?” He asked abruptly. I leaned back, pretending to look confused. D-does he know? Impossible.

I raised a brow, wondering what his motives were. “I don’t know.” I deadpanned, closing the door in his face.

I was about to walk away but I heard a knock on the door again. Then again. And again. And again. I let out a low growl and opened the door.

“Jisung told me.” He said before I could let another peep out.

W-wait

I felt my hands turn numb and my legs go shaky. We stood in silence for a solid minute, which was a long time without saying anything.

My mind felt numb and I couldn’t think of any lie to save myself.

“Um... I’m sorry, you need to go.” I started to close the door, but he stopped me gently.

“Y/n, wait, I’m not mad, and technically I knew before he told me. Look, I feel terrible for not recognizing you earlier but I was really fucking drunk. And I wasn’t in the right mind since I had ended things with Chaeyoung and my mind was just not thinking of anything. But I swear as soon as I got shown a video of us singing the next day, I knew. And I felt terrible, so I’m so sorry.”

I felt shocked at his apology and I was unable to say anything in response.

“Please, say something.” He took my hands and pulled me closer to him.

And I felt terrible when I pulled back. I saw hurt run across his face as I said, “Look I was drunk too and--”

“No you weren’t, you were completely sober, I could tell in the video. Y/n please...” He made an attempt to come closer but stopped. “Look I know it’s bad that I just kissed a random girl and am now making attempts at you but there was something just drawing me to you that night. I mean the alcohol was helping me act on instinct but still.

I was so happy to find out it was you. I had no idea who the girl was gonna be but when it was you, I couldn’t help but feel so relieved because it’s you, the girl I had a crush on in my psych class who was sarcastic with a weird sense of humor but that’s what was so awesome about you so please, we can just work something out. We don’t have to work fast.”

A part of me wanted to just say yes and jump into his arms, but these things don’t happen to girls like me: girls who are constantly stuck in the background. He was still in love with that girl who sang confidently at karaoke, not that dull one in his psych class.

“I’m sorry, Chan but I just can’t.” I spoke softly. I couldn’t bare to look at him as he left, but he said nothing as he walked off my porch.

------

I laid in bed, feeling like the whole world was pressing down on my chest.

“Y/n! We’re going out to aunt josie’s house! Watch the house for us, we’ll be gone for 5 days! Merry Christmas!” The door slammed shut and I was officially alone on Christmas.

I’d always spent Christmas alone, every single year.

Jisung had his own family to tend to and I didn’t wanna bother him. I told him that I was fine being alone since I hated Christmas anyways, and he didn’t push thankfully. It was time for me to be alone, to mourn my parents.

It had been a few days, or maybe a week, since I last saw Chan. Jisung didn’t push the subject, knowing there was a more confusing internal battle in me.

I felt my phone vibrate, signaling a text. My eyes grew wide when I read the contact name, scared to read the message.

‘can we meet up right now?’ it read.

My fingers shook, unable to type a message. I hovered my finger over the ‘block’ button, wondering if that was a good idea. But before I could do anything, I got a call from Jisung. .

“Wha-”

“DON’T BLOCK HIM!” I pulled my phone away from my ear.

“What? How did you know-”

“’Cause I fucking know you, don’t block him. Ok, y/n, let’s be honest right here right now. This isn’t about Chan, this is about you. I guess and Chan but anyways. You’re scared because of these insecurities you have, which you shouldn’t have ‘cause you’re pretty and you’re funny and cool so yeah. But, you have them, so what can you do I guess. But Chan, he’s a great dude; he’s funny, talented, hot, sporty, he’s everything a girl could want and more. Especially what you want. So I know you like him and you should take this chance because even if things don’t work out forever, at least you made the effort.”

I could hear loud music and talking in the background and I knew he was outside of his house where a big party was happening. I went soft knowing he was taking the time out of his Christmas to say this to me.

“Ok... I’ll do it.”

“Wait what?”

“Call you later.”

I hung up the phone and returned to texting Chan with Jisung’s confidence in me.

‘yes... im home right now.’

‘are you flirting with me right now?’

I let out a bark of laughter. Chan knew how to get a girl to smile.

‘no :/’

‘well i’ll still be there in 20 mins’

‘ok i’ll be here too’

He read my message, didn’t respond. Does that mean he’s on his way over now?

I ran out of bed and looked at myself.

“I need a fucking shower.” I took a 5 minute shower and ran out, dried myself and put on a little makeup, just to look not dead. I pulled on a white sweater and leggings, trying to look like I’ve been lounging all day, but cute lounging.

Before I knew it, I heard my doorbell ring. I groaned in surprise but ran downstairs anyways. I took a deep breath, calming myself.

You can do this.

I threw open the door and saw him standing there, in a white button down shirt with dark fancy pants. His hair was now a dark brown, making him look more mature and casual than his chic blonde look.

“Hi.” He said with a smile.

“Hey, um, come in I guess.” I stood back to let him in and closed and locked the door behind him. “Um, merry Christmas.” He looked at me with kind eyes and smiled.

“Merry Christmas to you too.”

We stood in a peaceful silence, one testing out the waters with the other.

“What are you doing here instead of spending time with your family?” I asked finally. He shrugged.

“Well, um, so both my parents died when I was 13.” I held in my gasp and held my head low for condolence.

“I’m sorry for your losses.” He nodded and looked up at me.

“I’ve heard you have a similar story.” I sighed and sat down next to him as he took a seat on the couch.

His body heat was radiating off him in waves and it made me feel like home. “Yeah, Jisung probably told you?” Chan nodded and I sighed. “Yeah, um, my mom died when I was pretty young, 8 to be exact. And my dad died just a couple years ago...leaving me with an ass for a stepmom and step sisters so.” I shrugged, not knowing how to go on.

“I’m sorry.” I nodded.

He leaned back in the couch and rolled up his sleeves. I couldn’t help but feel so attracted to him despite our situation being serious.

“So-” We both started.

“You go first.” He said. I nodded.

“So um, I’m just really sorry about what happened the last time I saw you. I guess I was just afraid of commitment and um, feeling loved I guess. To explain it simply, I’ve always felt like I was background music while everyone else is a title track.” I shrugged nonchalantly, but I couldn’t help but feel emotional. His arm immediately went to wrap around my body and pulled me closer. He rubbed my back in circular motions which calmed me down.

“I’m not blaming you for what happened, I guess we both have our faults.” I shook my head.

“No, you did nothing wrong, it was just me.” I argued as he laughed in surprise.

“Seriously, the first time we kissed, I was drunk as hell. I could tell you noticed ‘cause you made a face.” I blushed and hid my face in my hands.

“Shut up.”

As I said that, we returned to our usual banter and relationship. It felt normal again.

“Hey, I never got to tell you, you’re an amazing singer you know that?” I gave him a small smile and shrugged.

“Thanks, you are too.”

Then, he glanced up at the ceiling and raised his brows.

“Mistletoe!” He called out. I grew confused and looked up. “There’s no mistletoe up there.” He gave me a boyish smile and shrugged.

“I know, I just wanna kiss you.” I let out a harsh laugh and slapped his chest.

“Dude, you can’t just say mistletoe whenever you wanna kiss me.” He wiggled his eyes brows and came close to me. My body grew warm since the look on his face was nothing but innocent. “You sure?” I nodded, daring him to go on.

“Mistletoe.” He pecked me on the lips, sending tiggles through my body, but leaving me wanting more.

“Mistletoe.” He leaned in again for half a second then pulled away.

“Mistletoe.”

“Mis-” As he leaned in to kiss me for the fifth time, I pulled him closer and he didn’t fight it as he pulled me on his lap.

He pulled away softly to look up at me. I titled my head at him in curiosity.

“Hm, so how do you like Christmas now, Cinderella?” I gasped and shoved him away playfully.

“Cinderella? You are not calling me that!” I squealed as he tickled my sides.

“Really? How ‘bout Cindy? Ella? Cinder??” I flicked him on the neck harshly and he gasped in pain.

“You meanie!”

He laughed and held me down in his lap. “Ok ok fine! But I’m serious, how do you like Christmas now?”

I thought about his question for a moment until I leaned down to kiss him gently on the lips, surprising him.

“I could get used to it.”

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densi-mber · 6 years

Text

Sneaky Pyromaniac Monkeys

A Densi-mber Drabble

by Psyched

“Leave it, we’ll clean up later,” Kensi insisted as Julia and Bertie tried to rinse off their dinner plates.

“We, angel?” Deeks teased.

“Okay, maybe I’m hoping for a Christmas miracle and we’ll find everything washed and put away when we wake up in the morning.”

“There’s a better chance of Monty licking the dishes clean and burying them in the backyard overnight than Santa and the reindeer straightening up, Ms. Claus,” Deeks said as they settled in the living room and he topped off the ladies’ wine glasses. “Everything was delicious, Moms. You two are goddesses in the kitchen, I don’t think I’ve ever had a better Christmas Eve meal.” He popped open another beer for himself, realizing he’d had more than his fair share of holiday libation tonight. But it seemed to do the trick, as it really had been a nice evening with their parental units. Even better because Guy was out of town visiting his own grown children.

Kensi smiled at their mothers, “You know, the first time you guys met, when we were trying to get you to come out to a restaurant for Christmas dinner and you both wanted to cook, Deeks didn’t think it was a good idea to have you share a kitchen. I for one knew it would work out beautifully.”

“Wow, sugar plum, way to throw me under the bus.”

“In all fairness, it would have been awkward that first year, considering we’d just met,” Julia conceded. “But after all the time we’ve spent together since then, Bertie and I have become good friends and it’s a treat to cook beside her.”

Bertie held up her wine glass, “Here’s to something good coming out of Kensi’s coma. Aside from Kensi, of course.”

They all toasted, and Kensi kept her glass aloft. “And to spending the holiday with family.”

Bertie jumped on that opening. “Speaking of family, when will you two be adding to yours? Julia and I aren’t getting any younger, you know, and we’d like to spend time together doing more than cooking. Maybe visit a hospital for something good for a change, if you’re picking up what I’m putting down.”

“I think you need to put that glass down and keep it there, Mama,” Deeks told her. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who’d had too much to drink tonight. Not that Crazy Bertie wouldn’t have made that same statement when perfectly sober.

“Maybe you should set a wedding date first,” Julia suggested.

“Nah, I already told them they didn’t need to wait for that. It’s not like either one of them is going anywhere, they’re so in love,” Bertie replied.

“That’s true, but we’re thinking we’ll try this the traditional way: wedding first, kids some time after that,” Kensi said.

Julia was thrilled to have confirmation that they were still planning to have children, “You’ll be wonderful parents.”

“Well, heaven knows with all your secret agent experience, you’re ready for it if yours end up as rambunctious as Martin here.”

“Thanks for the love, Mama. You sure you’re not trying to talk us out of having kids?”

“Aww, come on. You know I love you,” she reached across the coffee table pat his cheek. “But do you remember the Christmas you were eight?”

“You’ll never let me live that down, will you?” Deeks said.

“I should have realized then you’d make a living snooping into other people’s lives. Good thing you seem to have gotten better at it.”

“What happened?” Kensi asked.

“Your fiancé couldn’t wait for Christmas to open his presents. About a week before, I heard noises in the middle of the night and thought someone had broken in. I crept out of my room with a hardcover book as a weapon only to find this one had snuck into my bedroom closet while I was asleep and pilfered all the presents. He’d unwrapped them, took inventory, and was trying to re-wrap them when I found him.”

Kensi and Julia laughed.

“Oh, no,” Julia said.

“Except he didn’t realize until it was too late that he had no idea how to wrap a gift. He had more tape, glue, and paper on himself than on any one box. Every roll of wrapping paper was completely unrolled and strewn around the living room, and half of it somehow ended up stuck to the walls.”

“Glue?” Kensi managed to ask.

“I was desperate!” Deeks shrugged. “I needed to know if those were the same presents that would supposedly be from Santa.”

“Lucky for both of us your father was at the bar.”

“I may not have known how to wrap a present at that tender age, but I knew enough to wait until the old man was gone to pull a stunt like that.”

Wanting to keep the conversation light, Julia shared, “You know, Kensi could be pretty sneaky too when she was curious about something. We used to decorate our tree a few weeks before Christmas, but we always put the star on top after Kensi was asleep on Christmas Eve. Don told her it only appeared then because it was full of the spirit of Christmas.”

Deeks grinned, “I can see where this is going.”

“One year, I think Kensi must have been about four, shortly after Don and I went to bed, we heard a huge crash. We ran into the living room to find the tree toppled over and Kensi inside it. Seems our little angel wanted to see the spirit of Christmas up close, so she moved all the gifts out of the way, crawled under the tree, and tried to climb up from the inside, where the branches were thickest.”

Deeks burst out laughing and turned to his blushing bride-to-be, “We are so going to have to tie our kids into their beds every night in December!”

“And take the knobs off the stove,” Julia advised. “I think she was eleven when she almost burned the house down because the rule was that we didn’t open presents until after a family breakfast. Kensi thought she’d work around that by waking us up with the aroma of French toast at three in the morning.”

Kensi took over, “Instead it was the smell of burnt bread and eggs that did the trick. And it just got very smoky; I didn’t even come close to starting an actual fire, Mom.”

“Yeah, she was saving that up for after we moved in together,” Deeks joked, knocking Kensi’s shoulder with his own.

“Right, because you don’t drive Kensi nuts with your obsession about the Christmas lights, Martin,” his mother said.

“What? What are you talking about? Kensalina appreciates the appealing appearance of our Christmas lights.”

Kensi said, “You mean with all the,” Bertie chimed in and said with her future daughter-in-law, “clean angles and smooth lines?”

“Go ahead and mock me, but we have the best-looking house on the block.”

“You ought to after all the time you spent practicing hanging those damned lights inside the house year-round. Not to mention climbing all over things like an ape because you didn’t want to use a ladder.” Bertie looked at Julia, “With your monkey and mine as parents, our grandkids will be primed to join a travelling circus.”

“Nice, mom,” Deeks reproached.

Chuckling, Kensi said, “Things make so much sense now.”

“Honey,” Julia said slyly, “I have to apologize for saying you nearly set fire to the house that Christmas morning. I was wrong. It was during one Hanukkah that you were practically a pyromaniac.”

“Okay, Mom, you’re cut off too,” Kensi moved Julia’s glass away from her.

“No, I want to hear this,” Deeks encouraged.

“There’s nothing to hear. I brought the menorah outside during the day to try to light the candles with a magnifying glass,” Kensi defended.

“And when that didn’t work…?” Julia prompted.

“Wait, let me guess!” Deeks all but shouted. “She tried flint and steel, a stick and shoestring, and a battery and steel wool.” He could read on Kensi’s face that he was exactly right, so he put his arm around her and kissed her cheek, “Props to you for keeping the fire outside the house, baby.”

Bertie loudly cleared her throat and glared at her son. Deeks’ smile quickly faded. Catching on, Kensi said, “Oh ho ho! Deeks set fire to something, didn’t he?! In the house! What happened?” She looked between her fiancé and his mother.

“Martin was eleven when that movie Home Alone came out and he was convinced someone was going to break in and steal his Christmas presents since his father was out of the house for good by then. He borrowed a blowtorch from that delinquent Ray’s garage and rigged it to ignite if someone came in the back door.”

“It would have worked too if Mama hadn’t made me take it down.”

Kensi laughed her scary laugh and the family stared at her. Once she regained her composure, she ruffled Deeks hair and explained, “You sound like every villain at the end of Scooby Doo, Shaggy.”

Julia teased, “Well, they’ll be a handful, but at least your kids will be beautiful to look at while they get into all that trouble.”

“Oh yeah,” Bertie said. “Those good looks and the well-practiced ability to feign innocence will keep you two on your toes for sure.”

“That’s it,” Kensi threw up her hands. “I’m not raising any sneaky pyromaniac monkeys. Thanks Moms, you’ve talked me out of giving you grandchildren.”

“I’m with my ladybird on this one,” Deeks agreed, taking one of Kensi’s hands in his own. “Sneaky pyromaniac monkeys don’t sound nearly as cool as mutant ninja assassins.”

“Oh, don’t get your panties in a twist,” Bertie said. “You know it’s not all bad. There’s also plenty of good about having high-spirited and clever children.”

“Such as?” Deeks asked.

Bertie was quick with an answer. “You had so much energy you were super excited about pretty much anything. I could have given you an empty coffee tin for Christmas and you would have found about a dozen different ways to play with it.”

Deeks looked at her askance, “You did give me a coffee tin one year.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t a gift or anything,” his mother waved him off. “Just something to keep you busy for a while.”

“Kensi, you were just as well-occupied with any reading material about the Marines or whatever base we were living on. You really were quite easy growing up,” Julia said sincerely.

“I wouldn’t give back a second of it. Even though he may have been a little devil at times, my Martin was all heart,” Bertie said.

“He still is,” Kensi added, squeezing Deeks’ hand.

Eying her son, Bertie asked, “Do you remember when you were in seventh grade and you got caught doing other kids’ homework for money?” The woman’s eyes misted as she turned to Kensi and Julia and explained, “He wanted to buy me something really special for Christmas.”

Julia exclaimed, “Oh my goodness! Kensi was in fourth grade when she did the same thing, only it was so she could buy more presents for the Marines’ Toys for Tots drive!”

The foursome hadn’t finished laughing when Deeks furrowed his brows in thought. “So I was twelve and you would have been, what, nine? That happened the same Christmas, Kens!”

“I guess great minds really do think alike,” Kensi said, leaning into Deeks to give him a quick kiss.

Bertie stood up and toyed with her phone. “And on that note, I think it’s time to hit the road. What do you say, Julia, should we leave these two great minds to their baby-making?”

“Or wedding planning, whichever they prefer,” Julia said.

“Perfect, there’s a Lyft less than ten minutes from here. I’ll drop you off on the way home.”

Fifteen minutes later, Deeks locked the door behind their mothers as Kensi set the alarm. Putting his arm around Kensi’s waist and making their way toward the bedroom, Deeks asked, “So did they really change your mind about having kids?”

“Nah. But I know one thing for sure.”

“What’s that?”

“The moment our kid starts to crawl, we need to put security cameras in every room and the perimeter of the house, linked to our phones,” Kensi suggested.

“Obviously. And taking the knobs off the stove probably isn’t a bad idea either.”

“We can do that now as far as I’m concerned,” Kensi half-joked. “Oh, and we should probably only ever live in a single-story house. No telling what havoc our kids could wreak with stairs and a high roof.”

“Done,” Deeks agreed, yawning. “And maybe we can get our hands on a lifetime supply of Overwatch spray…”

#ok so that was more liek a double-drabble #so sue me #there just might be a bonus Christmas Eve drabble coming mid-week #this can be considered a fic-promt response #even though I wrote it before that prompt was suggested

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bloodandcream · 6 years

Text

Discipline, a little NaomixMeg+detention for an anon’s prompt, ~1.1K

Naomi gave up on the papers she was grading and turned to rummage through her purse, looking for the little bottle of advil. The headache she’d been nursing most of the day started blooming to a sharper, insistent thing and she couldn’t focus. The steady tap-tap of Claire drumming a pen on her desk wasn’t helping.

“Claire,” Naomi called out, “Stop with the pen. Please.”

Claire huffed, rolled her eyes, slammed her pen down and slouched lower in her chair.

“Manners, Claire.”

“Sorry,” Claire said, and she absolutely did not mean it.

In the far corner, Krissy sniggered, watching. At least she used detention to do homework, book open in front of her as she worked quietly.

“How is your homework coming along, Claire? Do you need any help?”

“No.” Claire glared at her, making a show of dragging a book out of her backpack and flipping through it hastily.

Naomi sighed. These two girls were regulars in detention, and the only ones there at the moment. Claire had been caught smoking under the bleachers, and Krissy was found stealing food from the cafeteria kitchen in between classes.

Glancing at the clock sitting above a brightly colored periodic table chart, Naomi considered letting them out ten minutes early. Her headache wouldn’t quit, her water bottle was empty, and she could really use a cigarette.

Of course, she wouldn’t let them out early. She never does. They will all have to suffer until exactly the appointed time for detention to be over.

As if summoned by the power of Naomi’s irritation, Meg appeared. Swinging the door open without knocking, she leaned against the door jamb. As usual, she was casually dressed in jeans and sweaters - purple today - but that was the norm for teachers here. Naomi continued, by habit, wearing neat pant-suits. Teaching at a public school was a lot different from the private, Catholic girls-school she had dedicated twelve years of her life to. Budget cuts had not been kind to her.

“You need a smoke break? I can watch these trouble makers for a few minutes,” Meg said.

“Please,” Naomi nodded, “Thank you Meg.”

Naomi tossed her water bottle in her purse and switched places with Meg, brushing against her side unnecessarily on the way out the door.

“Aren’t you guys supposed to be role models or something?” Claire scoffed. “Smoking is bad for you.”

“A lot of things in life are bad for you kid,” Meg said.

Naomi left them to argue. Detention was supposed to be a quiet time, meant for studying and reflection on misdeeds committed. Meg was not good at being quiet, but all the teachers seemed more lax at this school.

The click of her heels echoed through empty corridors as she made her way to the side entrance where she usually smoked. It opened to a small staff parking lot, with railroad tracks beside it. Being on the opposite side of the building from the sports field where they’d be practicing football, students very infrequently used this entrance.

Smoking was a disgusting habit, but it was one vice Naomi couldn’t seem to quit. Colorful autumn leaves fell from the trees, the air cool but refreshing. She kept an eye on her watch, synched up with the clock in the detention room. If Krissy or Claire left early, she would report them. Meg knew this, but would still let the kids go if they got up on their own. Meg was particularly awful at enforcing rules.

Stubbing her cigarette out in the designated receptacle, Naomi smoothed down her hair, straightened her jacket, and went back inside. The headache felt slightly better; she couldn’t stave it off completely, but she would delay it as long as possible.

Laughter rung down the hallway as she rounded the corner to the detention room, and Naomi stood in the doorway with her arms crossed, watching Krissy and Claire chatting.

“Detention time is silent time.”

Meg had her boots kicked up on the desk and she didn’t look up from the glossy celebrity magazine spread out in her lap, but she smirked.

Claire rolled her eyes, “Detention is over.”

“In one minute, it is,” Naomi replied.

Both girls, their backpacks already packed, watched the second hand tick by. They shot out of their chairs the moment it struck four-thirty.

Naomi remained in the doorway.

Claire scowled, but Krissy asked, “May we please leave?”

“Yes, have a good night girls, remember to finish your homework.”

Stepping aside, Naomi let them pass. She closed the door behind her and strode over to the desk. Meg tossed her magazine on it, set her feet down under Naomi’s withering glare.

“So, what was Krissy in for this time? I thought she was doing better with her attitude problem?” Meg asked.

Despite the fault that she could be overly lenient with the students, Meg did genuinely care.

Naomi leaned against the edge of the desk. “She is improving the attitude. MacLeod caught stealing food from the cafeteria today.”

Standing, Meg stood in front of Naomi, leaning into her. “Seriously? They wanna get the kid in trouble for being hungry?”

“Stealing is stealing, of course she’s in trouble.”

Meg sighed. “You know how hard it hit some of these kids when the breakfast program was cut.”

“That doesn’t mean we can teach them that stealing is okay as long as they really need it.”

“Okay, inspector Javert.”

Naomi glared, pushed away from the desk and put her hands on Meg’s hips. Turning, she pressed Meg against the desk and leaned over her. They had argued enough with each other regarding the management of the school and budgetary woes, Naomi was not in the mood for it tonight.

“Rules exist for a reason, Miss Masters. If you want to live in society, and benefit from it, you must adhere to the rules.”

Shifting her legs wider, bracing her hands on the desk behind her and Meg shrugged. “What if I want to have some fun and be bad, learn my lesson later.”

“Clearly, you need more discipline.”

Curling an arm around Meg, spreading a hand against the small of her back, sweater soft and warm, Naomi bent towards her, kissed the curve of her cheek, the shell of her ear. Meg shivered, stretching her neck back, rolling her hips against Naomi.

“Go home, Meg. Make sure your apartment is presentable and up to my standards. I will be there at seven with dinner. I expect that you will be dressed accordingly for polite company. Or I will have some lessons on manners for you. “

“Mm, I got a lot of papers to grade tonight, tv shows to catch up on, I don’t know if have time to clean my apartment.”

“You know what the rules are, if you break them, you will learn your lesson.”

Tangling her fingers in Meg’s silky, long hair, Naomi gripped and pulled her head back. Those pretty brown eyes glinted with mischief, and Naomi was torn between taking the paddle or the cane over tonight. Meg looked like she might be particularly rambunctious.

Perhaps both.

#naomixmeg #alternate universe #teachers #just a lil flirting and such

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auradonuniversity · 6 years

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Meet The Maverick. They’re the child of Queen Elsa, a junior at Auradon University and hails from Auradon. Some say they look like Hunter Schafer and they’re TAKEN.

Name: Aleena Andersen

Age: 20 years old

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Pansexual, Panromantic

Occupation: Freelance Writer

Sports and Clubs: Drama, the AU Journal, Students Keeping the World Clean

Major: Sociology, minor in Women’s, Gender, and Sexuality Studies

Biography

The flowers bloomed and spring rang through Arendelle when a sudden snowstorm loomed over the entire kingdom. It hadn’t been the kingdom’s first encounter with such a drastic change in weather, but unlike the panic that ensued last time the fjords iced over, a hush of excitement traveled throughout the land as news broke that Queen Elsa was in labor with who would be the heir of Arendelle. After some grueling hours in labor, Aleena had come into the world and the kingdom celebrated for days on end, welcoming the child with music, laughter, and cheer.

It took little time to notice the rambunctiousness she exuded or the mischievousness that followed, even from a young age. Elsa had spent so long taming her own spirit that she did her best to do the opposite for Aleena: she allowed her to wear what she wanted, to be as loud as she could, and to never fear going after what she desired. Of course, that didn’t mean she let her do just anything, stepping in when her daughter needed her, but never forcing her hand. It strengthened the bond between them, and to Aleena, there was no better woman, no better person, even, than her mother.

The nature of their relationship allowed for open, honest communication, and it was Elsa who was the first to learn of how Aleena identified as trans. She scooped her up into her arms, pressed a gentle kiss atop her snow white hair, and promised to love her forever. Thereafter, she began the process of transitioning, aided by the unwavering support from her family.

Around the time Aleena’s transitioning began, on the eve of her fourteenth birthday, her ice powers manifested themselves for the first time. She had been on the back of her horse, racing her cousin towards the castle for supper, when her horse suddenly veered direction, spooked by a cacophonous noise, and she was bucked off with no way to break her fall. Aleena tried, however, arms poised in front of her with her eyes squeezed shut to brace for impact, though she never landed on the rock-hard cobblestone; instead, she landed on a bed of fluffy white snow, as soft as landing on a pillow. It had been the first she used her powers, but certainly wasn’t the last.

More alike to her mother than ever, it should’ve been a given that Aleena would take the crown once she turned of age, but if there was anything she and Elsa fought about, it was the expectation for her to rule. It had been decided for her, before she could have a say, and there was nothing she hated more than to follow what was expected of her, even if Arendelle was her home. It was how she found herself in Auradon University, where she hadn’t even initially wanted to attend. It had been a decision she and her mother came to; she could delay taking the throne until she graduated, but once she did, it was expected she come back to Arendelle to rule.

Truth be told, Aleena fears nothing save for the day she graduates, using her time in Auradon University as way to figure out how to get out of it without disappointing her family or her people.

Character Traits

positive: fearless, ardent, innovative negative: fickle, candid, emotional

Headcanons

Despite doing her utmost best to stay as far from Arendelle as she can to doge the inevitability of taking the crown, she misses it dearly – more like, she misses her mother dearly, never seen without a charm bracelet her mom had given her where one lone snowflake, her mother’s signature snowflake, lays against her wrist. When she misses Elsa more than she can bear, she holds her bracelet to her heart and, somehow, she feels closer to her, like if she were right beside her, easing her worries the way only she could. It has become a sort of coping mechanism, especially since she tends to fiddle with it when she’s nervous or has something on her mind. It’s among one of her most treasured possession.

Chocolate is easily her her most guilty pleasure, though she insists the feeling of guilt is only a result of the toxic diet culture that everyone seemed to buy into, so what exactly did she have to feel bad for? At every ball Queen Elsa threw, any major occasion for Arendelle, the finest of chocolates were brought in from the surrounding countries and she’d rope her cousins into stealing sweets with her by the handful before they’d scurry off to someplace far from the watchful eyes of guards or any adults who would scold them for their mischievousness.

While a gift, Aleena’s magic also posed a great threat when her emotions got the better of her. It was a cross to bear that Elsa had eventually learned to control, but she wasn’t like her mother, not nearly as composed, nor as level-headed. Her mother helped her as much as she could, but when all-consuming anger or crippling anxiousness swelled in her chest, her magic took the reins and a burst of ice or snow would come from her fingertips before she could do anything to stop it. Elsa insisted the only way to control it was to ensure she wouldn’t stifle the emotions when they arose, to work through them, but sometimes, Aleena thought she felt too much.

Connections

The Activist: The Maverick and The Activist have always been known as the weird kids in Auradon, probably because they care more about changing society for the better then what outfit to wear to Cinderella’s next ball. Regardless of the reason though, they decided early on not to fight the stereotypes they were given and to just embrace the friendship that was being forced on them by the universe. Now the two are almost always seen with each other.

The Facade: Out of all of their cousins, The Maverick has always felt closest to The Facade. When hanging out at family parties, or at some random ball, the two always seem to find the other and talk the night away. They don’t have everything in common, but there’s a sense of understanding and a lack of judgement that both have regarding the other, which makes for a comfortable atmosphere between the two.

The Magnate: The Magnate and The Maverick have beef, it was obvious right off the bat. Aside from their drastically different personalities, the fact that The Magnate’s father tried to kill both The Maverick’s mother and aunt have left a bad taste in their mouth. The Maverick gets that everyone should have equal opportunity or whatever, but should it really apply to people who are raised by the most evil people around?

#disney rp #oc rp #descendants rp #royal #taken #takenr

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hencethebravery · 7 years

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Fantasy Pretzel Week, Day 7: Any modern trope in an Elves, Fae, or Nymph AU.

Title: “Upon the Green,” (1/2)

Summary: A Midsummer Night’s Dream AU wherein… Emma Swan and Killian Jones are dramatic, vaguely magical marrieds who scheme, plot, and otherwise interfere with Prince Henry’s troubled love life.

Notes: “Royal fairies, feuding royals” AU for Fantasy Pretzel Week! Loosely based on Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. I’m also worried this is not… “modern AU” enough for the parameters of this challenge, but it’s an enemies to lovers kinda thing so even if it’s half-wrong it’s also half-right. Also on Ao3. An extra special thanks to all the marvelous ladies at the CS Writers’ Hub who listened to me bitch about this story, and @abbadons-little-witch, who offered up some helpful critique. Also tagging so they don’t yell at me later, @captainwiley and @the-reason-to-sail-home. xo

PUCK How now, spirit! Whither wander you? FAIRY Over hill, over dale, Thorough bush, thorough brier, Over park, over pale, Thorough flood, thorough fire: I do wander everywhere, Swifter than the moon's sphere, And I serve the Fairy Queen, To dew her orbs upon the green. The cowslips tall her pensioners be. In their gold coats spots you see; Those be rubies, fairy favors; In those freckles live their savors. I must go seek some dewdrops here, And hang a pearl in every cowslip’s ear.

— William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream (2.1.1-15)

+ Never, in all his many days as a fae, had Killian envisioned such a grand affair, never mind his own wedding day. It seemed as if every flower, on every branch and every bough, was in full bloom despite the lingering frost of late winter. The fountains, though generally dry and barren this time of year, bubbled and gurgled with nectar far too sweet for the season.

And the lights, to his own childlike delight, were scattered playfully throughout the crowd, whipping in and out around shy, early buds; among the whimsical hairstyles of the kingdom’s most fashionable ladies. The moon itself seemed to shine brighter than he had ever seen it, the world abuzz with the Princess’s impending marriage. To him. Killian, a nobody, a foot soldier and royal guardsmen with not much to offer.

From his dark, hidden nook by the doorway he observed the tense standoff between Emma and her father. “I won't hear of it,” her voice sharper than he could ever remember, her tongue clicking against the back of her teeth, “not with the wedding so close.”

They were very quickly approaching the final ceremonies after days of celebration that had included drinking, eating, and dancing; the marriage itself scheduled to begin in just a few hours. And the Princess, Emma, sounded alarmingly concerned given the immediacy of their impending union.

“I only ask that you consider your people, Emma,” the King urged quietly, “this is not a matter to be taken lightly.”

Killian loved Emma, had loved her for longer than he cared to remember. And he wasn't naive, to be sure, he knew how odd it must seem; the Princess of the fairies, a blessed, bountiful kingdom, marrying a poor soldier of mediocre standing. But for whatever reason, she had chosen him. Despite all her beauty, grace, and kindness, she had seen fit to love and wed him. He knew her parents had been… less than enthused about their marriage, but it was quite another thing to hear it spoken of mere hours before they exchanged vows.

He heard Emma release a long, drawn out breath betraying a deep and overwhelming exhaustion. He would be concerned for her obvious unhappiness, only he found himself distracted by the vice of insecurity tightening its hold around his rapidly beating heart. Was she having second thoughts? Did she really want to marry him—?

The startling sound of shattering glass interrupted his mutinous, worrisome thoughts, as well as any reply his soon-to-be wife may have made, in his defense or otherwise. Fearing both David and Emma’s ire at being caught eavesdropping, he fled for the central ballroom, his face flushed and legs shaky. What might she have said?

Emma’s father was a just and fair ruler, by all accounts a good man, but Killian couldn’t help the niggling feeling of betrayal that began to worm its way into his subconscious as soon as he had overheard the King’s concern. And Emma, whom he loved dearly, who he could barely wait to wed, when faced with the possible truth of those same doubts, seemed to pause in considering her answer, and Killian could hardly be expected to keep from worrying. Would she live to regret him?

When he stood in front of his wife mere hours later, he tried to quell the disappointment and uncertainty. The ceremony was just as beautiful as he had anticipated, his bride even more so. Her hands were just as warm and delicate as they had always been, her lips the same, blushing pink—the taste just as sweet as he remembered… and yet.

He said all the right words at all the right moments, squeezed her hand, brushed his lips across the high apple of her cheek; danced and drank and sang, he took part in the festivities as any blissful husband might, burying his doubts and fears beneath the love in her eyes, and the evident happiness of their kingdom. She loves me, he thought, watching the light of the moon twist and bend to suit her shape, and I love her.

25 years later…

“The list of offenses,” the well-dressed cricket reads aloud, “are as follows…”

A small, unfailingly polite insect, wearing the tallest top hat by far, regales the audience with his long, cleverly worded list of over fifty sins committed within their borders in the many years since the Princess’ marriage and subsequent rule. An exhaustive, but by no means complete, compilation of the King and Queen’s many squabbles, and they had, all of them, finally had enough.

“Their last argument kept my tree from blooming the last three summers,” the bluebird chirps, her voice high and clipped, “I’ve had to fly over hill and dale just to find a scrap to eat!”

“The water in the lake has been putrid for months,” complains a young buck, “what are we supposed to drink?”

“Friends, friends!” The cricket interrupts with a sonorous cry, his chirping pleas silencing the outrage of his friends and countrymen, “You’re all angry, and rightfully so—”

“We have to do something,” a squeaky voice interrupts from somewhere in the crowd, “this is intolerable!”

“Enough!” He is loud for so small a creature, his voice and his words a familiar source of comfort and strength in these uncertain times. He adjusts the bow around his collar and continues, “If you’ll allow me,” and he smiles, genially, “I do have a plan.”

5 years later…

The loud, rambunctious sound of their combined laughter rang pleasantly through the forest. It was a joyous, familiar harmony, as Prince Henry and his boyhood friend had played, hunted, and otherwise spent their free time with one another over the years.

“Do try to keep up, Henry,” Marcus laughed, his voice echoing beneath the canopy of leaves above their heads, “We can’t have your new bride thinking you a cripple, now can we?”

Henry sighed and forged ahead, his heart violently lurching at the prospect of his bride-to-be. Marcus had seen fit to mention Princess Violet an alarming amount these days, and Henry had tried, desperately, to understand its significance. Would he simply miss his friend? What with his position in the Navy, they were unlikely to spend much time together regardless, so the fact of their separation seemed irrelevant.

“I’ll never understand how you can be so excitable this early in the morning,” Henry groused, the heat from the sun causing an uncomfortable chafing between his collar and neck, “it’s unnatural.”

Henry paused at Marcus’ uncharacteristic silence and glanced around the seemingly empty path, his eyes thinning suspiciously at his friend’s lack of reply.

“Don’t be mad—” Henry yelped in surprise at the somewhat alarming sight of Marcus’ unnervingly charming, upside-down visage, his long hair falling dangerously close to the forest floor, a wide and playful smile on his face, “It’s not my fault we can’t all be so dashing in the morning.”

Marcus hung quite precariously from the branch of a nearby tree, his knees firmly hooked over the gnarled wood, and his face was endearingly flushed with the sudden rush of blood.

“One day you’re going to break an arm,” Henry scolded, his head falling to the side, “and I’ll be happy to leave you wherever it is you fall.”

“Ah, young Prince,” Marcus playfully replied, “you’re too good a man for that kind of talk.”

Watching Marcus drop gracefully to the ground, Henry tried, in vain, to ignore the small spark of attraction that seemed to hum along his arms and down his long, annoyingly elegant fingertips. Marcus had never been the most humble of boys, and Henry had grown used to the strange, conflicting urge to be both absurdly proud and jealous of his friend. A remarkably active child, Marcus had a somewhat nauseating aptitude for acrobatics—which tended to come in handy wandering crowded streets looking for food to steal, or climbing the rigging of his father’s many ships.

“You know I hate it when you call me that.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Marcus answered with a grin, his gaze softening despite the caustic tone.

The usual tittering of the forest seemed to suddenly taper off with a swiftness that felt almost rehearsed, as if all the birds and insects had unanimously decided to cease their usual chattering. Henry tried not to despair at the return of their own silence that seemed to inevitably follow in its wake. It had started a few months ago, shortly after the proposed engagement to Princess Violet, and like Marcus’ frequent jabs, Henry had spent a good deal of time trying to make sense of it.

He had experienced the miserable reality of tense silences before, being royalty, awkwardness was, unfortunately, an inevitable side effect, but he had never felt that same pressure in the company of Marcus. Until now, that is. And it was then that he noticed the way the light seemed to fall over his face, catching the sharp loveliness of his features that Marcus had become famous for; the varying strands of brown hair that could only be distinguished in just the right light. And his eyes, nearly black most days, now betrayed an almost inhuman array of earthen tones, the same colors that rendered him almost mythical on the deck of the Nautilus.

“What is it you think you’re doing, my love?”

Emma spared the barest hint of a glance towards Killian’s sullen expression, his eyebrows resting dark and heavy over his stormy gaze. His words rang painfully hollow, still, even after so many years of hearing their emptiness echo inside her heart. How I wish you wouldn’t call me that, she thought miserably, trying to soothe a thirty-year ache she could never quite cure.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with, my darling.” A similar bite, a familiar warping of a common enough endearment shared between a husband and wife. Although she had wondered, from time to time, if she could even call them that anymore. In quieter moments she might return to a softer, happier time—when her name on his lips was a comfort rather than a cruel condemnation. When his touch had been frequent, a natural and expectant thing, as opposed to the stiff, ceremonial performance that it had become.

Henry and Marcus reminded her of who they used to be, two friends, floundering in the uncertainty of something more. The love in Marcus’ eyes whenever he beheld Henry was a painful reminder of the earnest glances that Killian had often sent her from across the room, his playful teasing and invasive questioning a constant companion in the years before their marriage.

She had only wanted to help, to free them from this infuriating, fruitless game that she had been watching them play for years now. So she had asked the sun, politely of course, to shine a bit brighter in that particular moment—had lifted a graceful finger into the air and the trees had obliged, shifting in just the right way to let the light shine through; to expose the otherworldly beauty of Captain Nemo’s only son to the one person who seemed unusually blind to its brilliance.

“I think that light is playing a little too generously,” he observed from over her shoulder, his words dripping with disapproval. She scoffed and kept a careful eye on the fragile scene before them, the very life of the forest moving carefully in line with her performance.

Whereas Emma had taken a perverse sort of pleasure in observing Henry and Marcus’ relationship the last few years, Killian seemed to actively hold the two boys in contempt—a suspiciously bitter taste on his quick, cruel tongue. Always making some kind of thinly veiled criticism of their “courtship,” the King found them to be a “mismatched pair.”

“To force them together,” he condescendingly explained, “would be an unusual kind of torture, even by your generous standards.”

“At least someone would be happy,” she mumbled under her breath, the two boys seemingly frozen in the soft, buttery light of the sun, their chests moving imperceptibly slowly with every quiet breath.

Henry’s eyes had begun to water, as if they had been open for hours instead of minutes. And it seemed as if the sun had begun to set, even though he could have sworn that they had set out moments ago, an hour at most.

“When did it get so late?” Marcus asked, his words an eerie echo of the confused thoughts rushing through Henry’s own mind. He turned slowly towards the full, towering trees, his gaze bright and sharp. “We should head back,” he suggested lightly enough, the gentle hand on Henry’s shoulder offering a fleeting sense of comfort, “Meet your Princess tomorrow.”

“You worried?”

“Me?” Marcus laughed, his chest a bit puffier than usual, “Never.”

Emma watched the two boys walk away with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“Don’t fret, they’ll be back tomorrow,” the usual, exasperated sigh falling from his lips. “You can play with your toys then.”

“They’re not my toys,” her long, blonde braid whipping around to frame her slender neck, “and I’ve had just about enough of you today, thanks. Isn’t it about time you retreated to your little hovel, anyway?”

Killian’s eyes closed at the sound of her fading footsteps, somehow both impossibly light and furious all at once. He knew how, of course, Queen that she was, a study in so many contradicting, impossible things.

When he opened his eyes he could still see Henry and Marcus ambling away in the distance, the width of their slim, boyish shoulders brushing against one another in the silver moonlight. He could see the twinkling lights of the village at an even further stretch, the inky blackness of the sea beyond the quaint homesteads, and took a deep, cleansing breath. If he really focused, he thought he could still smell the salt of the ocean, hear the bustling sounds of the villagers going about their day. He could even feel the heat of the sun that morning, feel Emma’s warm, eager presence at his side all those years ago.

35 years earlier…

Killian was beginning to suspect that this assignment had been given as a punishment. Being tasked with guarding the Princess had seemed like a blessing at first, he could barely believe his good fortune… and then he had met her. Every short, fiery inch of her; impossible to reason with, to watch over, to do his job.

Just as beautiful up close as she had seemed from afar, her golden hair falling to her waist as if it were a waterfall, cheeks and lips flushed varying shades of pink and red. She even smelled remarkable, like the first, gentle scent of honeysuckle in early spring, it’s floral headiness mixed pleasantly with all that rain.

“Killian!” his name harsh and clipped in a loud, commanding tone, “Follow me.”

The King and Queen stood frozen and worried, staring pleadingly at her departing form, and a sick feeling started to take root in his gut. “Um, Your Majesty—”

“Don’t question me, guard,” she interrupted quickly, her feet moving in time with her swift, angry puffs of breath as they moved through the trees, “We’re leaving.”

“I’m sorry, Princess, but… leaving?”

Generally quite proud of his careful, well-articulated speech, he couldn’t help the internal berating of his own stuttering questions, his less than stern comportment with his charge.

“Princess,” he said again, quickening the pace of his own steps, trying (and failing) not to be distracted by the usual overabundance of loveliness, when he realized she showed no signs of slowing down and gently gripped her elbow, “Emma—”

She finally paused at his touch, her gaze furious at his attempts to stop her, “Your Majesty,” he said again, carefully removing his hand from her arm, “Where are we going?”

“I can’t take it anymore!” she whispered, her eyes inexplicably wet and soft when moments earlier they had reflected nothing less than hardened steel. “They just want me to stay here all the time, do nothing… sew tablecloths, meet… suitors, stand around hosting meaningless parties… and all these things I’m supposed to do, and I don’t—”

Killian meant to interrupt, maybe to reassure her that she was on a path meant for great things, or maybe that she was lucky to live such a blessed life, but all that came out was her name and an ill-advised suggestion, “Come with me.”

A whole day and evening spent amidst the hustle and bustle of a human village, warm and alive and he had never seen her so happy. All it took was a simple cloaking spell, some drab clothing, a hooded cloak, and no one had suspected a thing. A normal day, where Emma had just been… Emma. Where she could run, play, and dance with no one watching, no expectations to meet. She had looked beautiful in that dirty old cloak, wandering among the busy, dirty stink of life that they rarely saw in their own idyllic kingdom.

His love for her then had been an entirely pure thing in his chest, a doubtless certainty that he had never thought to question. Until all his dreams had come true, until she had fallen in love with him; until their wedding day, until her blasted father and all his bloody concern had rather rudely interrupted an otherwise perfect ceremony. And she had never admitted it, not once, not in all their years as a married couple, as rulers of their kingdom, had she revealed an unprompted truth: That their marriage, for all its pomp, had been an illusory, regrettable event. Killian was no King, no husband fit for her or anyone.

He had simply wanted her to admit it.

“Ahem.”

The soft clearing of a throat roused him from his sad reverie, and he turned to find Archibald, the well-dressed cricket, standing quite patiently at his elbow.

“Your Majesty,” he began, bowing so low it seemed as if his ridiculous top hat might tumble right off his head, “may I have a word?”

Killian sighed, he was overdue for a monotonous, repetitive speech about the citizenry and their many dramatic and ill-founded complaints. “What it is now, cricket?”

“Forgive me, Your Majesty, I only wish to make a… suggestion.” The King raised a skeptical brow, and he continued, “If I may.”

“Well?” Killian prompted impatiently, “What is it?”

The cricket contemplated, removing his top hat and fingering the rim, carefully picking and choosing the right words in order to bring his plans to fruition without offending the King. A tall order for a tiny bug, to be quite sure.

“Her Majesty the Queen,” he started slowly, hesitating at the King’s small intake of breath, “has quite a vested interest in those boys.”

“Yes,” his sharp tone akin to the snapping of his fingers, “I’m well aware, so if you wouldn’t mind arriving at the point…?”

“As a man fond of a good wager, Your Highness, I do believe you might find that interest to work quite handsomely in your own favor.”

That seemed to catch the King’s otherwise divided attention, his handsome face betraying a quiet interest. “And how have you arrived at that conclusion?”

“She would be quite willing to see them happy,” the cricket pressed on, his limbs stilling on the brim of his hat as his confidence grew, “and I do believe you could use such a desire to your considerable advantage.”

Quite willing, Killian thought as his eyes returned to the empty path the boys had tread, their forms now barely discernible in the darkness.

“Yes,�� he answered decidedly, his gaze never wavering from the village beyond, “I do believe I could.”

“I’m sorry, you’d like me to agree to what?”

Killian had to suppress a chuckle at the delicate arch of her suspicious brow; it was, after all, the only bit of her he could discern from his end of the table. Their breakfast was piled unusually high that morning, with pastries both sweet and savory, piles of fruit so fresh they still sparkled with the dew of early morning, decanters of wine so rich it was as if the very air between them became intoxicated by their scent.

“A simple wager, my darling, I’m almost certain you know what those entail.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” she answered hotly, pouring herself another glass of wine, “What are the terms of this… ‘wager?’”

“Simple, really,” he paused at her predictable scoff and continued, “if your sweet Prince Henry can defy the wishes of his family and choose the person he really loves, as you so desperately believe, then you, my love… will finally win.”

“‘Win’ what?” she answered innocently, lips pursed suspiciously tightly.

“Don’t condescend, love, it doesn’t suit you,” he replied happily, his own wine tasting bitter in his mouth, “You know perfectly well what I mean. I will concede to you in all things, exactly as you wish.”

“That’d be a neat trick.”

“Ah, yes,” his finger raised pointedly in the air of war between them, “but if I win, and young Master Henry meets my every expectation, you must admit to the truth of our blissful nuptials.”

“Well, then,” she answered after a careful moment of silence, another elegant sip of wine, “in the greater interest of my happiness I see no reason as to why I should decline your generous offer.”

He raised his heavy, bejeweled goblet in the air, an infuriating smirk on his face, “Shall we make a toast?”

“We shall,” raising her own wine in challenge, “May the best woman—”

“...Or man,” Killian interrupted playfully, his large ring tapping meaningfully against the rim of his own cup.

“‘Or man,” she corrected, nodding her head in agreement, “May the best man or woman, win.”

#ouat ff #cs ff #cs fanfic #cs mc #cs au #captain swan #cs: shit is breathtaking bro #pretzelweek #@hencethewriter

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