#7. have a wedding to attend this week so planning on wearing this dress. I like that it’s black bc I can just wear a black long sleeve

[apricotluvr]

November 2022

[stoplickingmyneck]

fuck it. ronance wedding headcanons

- they def had an unofficial lil backyard “wedding” with the party back in the 90s. like, jeans and tee shirts and 15 dollar rings and eat hot dogs around a fire pit unofficial

- they kept those cheap ass rings on 24/7, and when they finally rusted and crumbled and were absolutely unwearable they put them in nancy’s ballerina trinket box, the one robin’s still fascinated by after all these years

- when they bought their first house (they move to indianapolis so nancy can work for the star btw, i feel like robin would be some sort of counselor too?), the first thing robin did was take a big ol bulletin board and nail it right to the bedroom wall. for the next twenty years it became their dream board, where they’d pin magazine clippings of suits and dresses, rings and bouquets and venues, dreaming of the day it could be their turn for real

- they have a record player in their kitchen and play cheesy slow music, elvis and frank sinatra typa stuff, while they cook or eat dinner or do work at the counter. every time a song that nancy likes comes on she begs robin to slow dance with her, and she grudgingly agrees every time. and robin fucking sucks. tripping over nothing, not knowing where to look or put her hands, getting flustered at every little move her girlfriend makes. nancy jokes that robin better not be like this during their first dance, and robin grumbles back that she’d rather hire a stunt double than suffer through this (she secretly loves it tho)

- attending weddings is so hard for them. not that they’re not happy for the couples, but because they know they might never get one of their own. when they get. home from max and lucas’ wedding, nancy breaks down in robin’s arms, sobbing that it would be so much easier if she were straight. robin holds her tight and reassures her so gently, and after she calms down they pull out the stack of wedding inspiration books they’ve acquired over the years, put on an old rom-com, settle side by side on the couch and stay up until 3 am gushing over ideas

- in 2015, the moment the announcement comes out that the supreme court legalized gay marriage, nancy speeds home from work, like, 20 miles over the speed limit and finds robin on the front steps, sobbing her eyeballs out, a big dumb grin on her face. nancy gets down on one knee right there on the driveway, not caring that it’s pouring rain and she doesn’t have a ring and and she looks like she just stepped out of the goddamn upside down. robin drops to the ground in front of her and kisses nancy harder than ever before

- nancy wants a traditional wedding. robin wants fun and unique, none of that “old-fashioned bullshit”. they butt heads over it constantly during the planning process, but slowly grow to adore each others’ styles and compromise on every detail

the invitations ^^^ they have a cute lil spring wedding right before their 50th birthdays😇

robin’s suit n nancy’s dress ^^^ nance would absolutely be the typa girl to wear karen’s old dress and robin would want the most basic, no frills suit to ever exist

their shoes ^^^ robin can barely stand on her own two feet so heels were out of the question. nancy spent weeks and weeks learning how to embroider just so she could surprise her fiance with cute flowered converse at their bridal shower. robin cried

their hair ^^^ idk what to caption this with lol

their flowers ^^^ ruth n rose colors, Nancy thought it was fucking hilarious when robin suggested it so it stuck. the idea of robin in a boutonniere makes me drool too

the ceremony n reception ^^^ nance wanted to get married in a big white church like she saw in movies when she was a little girl, robin wanted someplace quaint and cozy to spend the night surrounded by her best friends. worked out perfectly

their rings ^^^ adorbs

the cake^^^ robin would 100% take nancy's last name bc she worships her wife and fuck stereotypes

^^^ i like to think steve jokingly suggests they serve ice cream, a lil nod to their scoops days, not expecting robin to adore the idea and immediately write it down

best men steve and jonathan ^^^ they wouldn't have bridesmaids cuz what other women do they need in their lives tbh👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

other stuff:

-being apart for like 3 hours while they get ready is torture. before the ceremony they do that first look thingy where they're standing back to back on opposite sides of a wall and they're holding hands and they're so nervous and giggly and then they do a countdown and peek around and both of them just stand there in shock. like they just watched the sky open up and an angel fall to earth. and then nance throws her arms around robin's neck and they start bawling cuz they realize their 20-plus-year dream is coming true UGH. when they step back robin runs a finger through nancy's curls and whispers how she's as beautiful as the first time she laid eyes on her and nancy melts

-they walk down the aisle hand in hand, exchange long sappy handwritten vows, and fall so perfectly into place when they kiss. it's like a scene from a disney movie. not dry eye in the damn building

-at the reception, there's lil charcuterie boards at each table, and they serve wood-fired pizza cuz it's what they ate on their first date (plus it's robin's fave)

-steve and jonathan bring the HOUSE down with their best men speeches. steve's is full of embarrassing jokes about robin that make her face turn red, and when he brings up how she peed her pants in the russian lab she jokingly (kinda) threatens to slit his throat. jonathan's is so sweet and tender and you can tell he still loves nance so so much

-after the speeches robin excuses herself outside and comes back 5 minutes later with a guitar. she plays a song she wrote for nancy. it's generous heart. because maya is robin in this world and doesn't exist and tbh i don't care. it's incredible

-their first dance song is first day of my life by bright eyes

-i hate ted and idk anything aboutt robin's dad so they don't get dances whoops

-nancy cuts the cake because robin with knives is a death wish

-the ice cream cart is a huge hit (steve brags about it for years). robin's a chocolate girl and nancy's a lemon sorbet lover

-they drink champagne and dance to 80s music until the ceiling spins. around midnight nancy grabs robin's hand and pulls her through the crowd to the balcony. they sway there together under the stars, foreheads pressed together, pressing an occasional kiss to the other's cheek. in that moment, they both agree nothing on their dream board could be as good as this

-ALSO instead of a honeymoon they take a road trip, driving route 66 to california, stopping to take pictures at every little landmark and singing at the top of their lungs for hours💘

[adventuresindolls]

May Photo Challenge!!

Our next photo challenge, #Daisies and Daffodolls, will begin on May 1st! It’s a creative, for fun, non-competitive daily challenge for you to share pictures of your doll(s). There will be a new prompt each day, listed below to give you a month to prepare, and you can participate in as many or as few days as you’re interested in. There is no judgement whatsoever, so please share regardless of how complex your props are, and don’t worry about posting a prompt late.

First of all, thank you so much to @desertdollranch​ for helping with the prompts, especially those surrounding AG birthdays and holidays, and for getting this whole photo challenge thing started back in September! And a huge thank you to @lesbianelizabethcole​ for designing all 5 banners!

The ground rules are the same as in October and December, but I’ll reiterate them for anyone that might be new. Tag all of your prompt posts with #daisies and daffodolls - all three words, complete with spaces. This will allow us to better find and share each other’s posts. You can organize your own posts however you want, but I recommend including the day’s prompt somewhere for context. Also feel free to post on other social medias if you want.

This is not a competition, and there are no prizes, but it should be a lot of fun. Feel free to use any size and brand of doll that you have! American Girl is very popular on doll tumblr, but all other types are welcome as well, including both established (historical or modern) characters and OCs. This could range from 18-inch dolls to Barbies to handmade dolls or porcelain dolls or even paper dolls.

I’ll reblog this post weekly until the beginning of May, and then begin each week of May with the prompt list for that week. Please find a list of all prompts below the cut.

5/1: The first day of each photo challenge is traditionally for seasonal fashion. Does your doll have a favorite spring outfit? Is it cool and light, or are they still bundled in a sweater for the chilly mornings?

5/2: Spring is all about new beginnings. Is your doll learning a new skill or trying a new activity this spring? Or maybe they just met a new person who became important in their life?

5/3: Today is National Textiles Day. Kirsten’s friends gave her a quilt they made after she missed school to help her family. Does your doll have any clothes or other items that are handmade? If not, do they make any textile items themselves? This could be something sewn, knitted, crocheted, or quilted.

5/4: May the 4th be with you! Does your doll like Star Wars? Who is their favorite character? What about other stories? Pick a hero from any movie, show, or book that your doll loves and have them act out a scene as that character.

5/5: Friends are forever. Who are your doll’s closest friends and what do they do together? Maybe they like to play board games or go to the mall or play pretend. Or maybe your doll is planning something special for their friend.

5/6: As the weather gets warmer, it’s the perfect time to head outside. Does your doll play sports, or do they prefer casual games with their friends? Maybe they like picnics or quiet hikes through the woods.

5/7: Happy birthday, Maryellen! Maryellen often feels overlooked in her large family, and she works hard to stand out and show her unique personality. What makes your doll special and unique?

5/8: It’s career day! What does your doll want to do when they grow up? Show them dressed up for and/or acting out their dream job.

5/9: Happy Mother’s Day! Addy and her mother escaped to freedom together, Caroline’s mother ran a shipyard, and Kirsten’s mother encouraged her not to lose heart. Does your doll have a special bond with their mother? How do they celebrate Mother’s Day? If they don’t have a mother or don’t have a good relationship with her, consider today a free space to show us something you really want to but that isn’t included in these prompts.

5/10:  Bugs are everywhere! We might avoid some of them, but others are welcomed. Lightning bugs, ladybugs, bumble bees, and dragonflies are a few happy spring bugs. Show your doll doing something bug-themed. They might take a net out to catch bugs or draw a picture of a bug or hold a ladybug they found. Be creative!

5/11: Parties are always fun! Is your doll going to any birthday parties or sleepovers this spring? Maybe they’re attending a wedding or some other celebration? What are their favorite party activities?

5/12:  Spring weather can be a relief after the cold and darkness of winter. What is the weather like where your doll is? Foggy? Rainy? Bright and sunny? Show your doll interacting with their local spring weather.

5/13: Everyone needs mentors and heroes. Who does your doll look up to? What have they learned from them or how do they honor them?

5/14: It’s the last day of the school year. What’s your doll’s favorite extracurricular activity or aspect of school that they’ll miss until next fall?

5/15: Happy birthday, Luciana! Luciana loves learning about space and wants to be an astronaut and go to Mars one day. Getting to space involves studying many different things, particularly various fields of science. Show your doll doing something related to space or science.

5/16: Today is National Do Something Nice for your Neighbor Day. What does your doll do that helps others or makes the world a better place?

5/17: Let’s try something different today! If your (OC or non-AG) doll had their own American Girl-style book series, what would be the central theme? What sort of things would happen to them? Show us at least one scene from this hypothetical series.

5/18: Beaches and swimming are iconic activities as the weather gets warmer and people have more free time. Rebecca and her family went to Coney Island for a picnic. Does your doll enjoy picnics, sunbathing, or sandcastles on the beach? Maybe they like to swim for exercise or hang out at the pool with friends? (I do not recommend putting your doll in a public chlorine pool)

5/19: Happy Birthday, Kit! Growing up seeing the effects of the Great Depression on people around her, Kit is determined to report on important things happening to real people. How does your doll relate to current events? Are they involved in activism or spreading awareness? Is there an important social issue that affects them personally or that they feel is very important? Or is there something good happening in the world that they like to think about?

5/20: Spring is a great time for tea parties. What’s in your doll’s teacup? Maybe they’re drinking a fancy tea, or maybe they prefer a refreshing glass of juice.

5/21: Spring is full of baby animals. Show your doll interacting with some sort of baby animal. (Safely! Please don’t grab a real squirrel or bunny!)

5/22: In December we celebrated Pretend to be a Time Traveler Day. I’d like to reprise that, but with a twist: this time, we’re headed into the future! The amount of time and what your doll finds in the future is completely up to you. What do they do while there?

5/23: Cakes and pies and ice cream, oh my! What is your doll’s favorite dessert?

5/24: There may be fewer holidays in spring than in December, but that doesn’t mean there’s nothing to celebrate! Does your doll celebrate Passover or Easter? Or maybe they prefer a more obscure spring holiday to liven things up? Show them participating in whatever celebration you like.

5/25: Yellow is the color of flowers and sunny days and ducklings. Show your doll wearing or using something yellow.

5/26: Happy birthday, Samantha! After her birthday party, Samantha hears Aunt Cornelia speak at a suffragette meeting in New York City. What is a cause that is important to your doll? Show them with a sign supporting or protesting something close to their heart. As an added challenge, use a cause unrelated to the current events prompt.

5/27: It’s summer vacation! What are some of your doll’s favorite activities now that they’re free from school? Alternatively, what are some of their favorite hobbies to do anytime?

5/28: Happy birthday, Cecile! For her birthday, Cecile’s brother Armand gave her a beautiful porcelain doll that looked like her. Does your doll have a favorite doll or toy?

5/29: Late spring and early summer is a great time to go on a road trip or vacation. Where is your doll traveling to, and what are they doing there? Or maybe their family chose a staycation this year - what new fun new things are they discovering close to home?

5/30: Today is National Water a Flower Day. Show your doll interacting with flowers or other plants.

5/31: What is your doll planning for this fall? What are they looking forward to when school starts again? Is a big change approaching as the seasons and leaves turn? What does the future hold for them?

[msmarvelouswinchester]

Irresistibly Yours

Chapter 2 - Noise Complaint

Summary - Y/N Y/L/N moves to NYC in hopes for a fresh start after a nasty breakup. There she meets her neighbor, the cynical lawyer, Dean Winchester. A love-hate relationship starts evolving between them ever since they met in the elevator one morning but a desperate situation and a string of lies forces the two friendly rivals to go on a date or rather a fake date. Will sparks fly between them when Dean gets to know Y/N real and up close? Will Y/N finally find her Prince Charming in the grumpy, workaholic, divorce lawyer?

Pairing - Lawyer!Dean Winchester x Y/N

Warning - None expect meanie Dean (Suspicious, isn’t it?)

WC - 2154

Square Filled - Don't put me in this position ( @anyfandomgoesbingo​ )

A/N - I promise the next chapter will have more of Dean and more conflict! This is just the beginning of a very long ride. Enjoy!

Beta’d by @miss-nerd95​

Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

Series Masterlist               Masterlist 

The silence in the cab on her way back to her apartment gave her the quality time she needed to think. In a few weeks, Meg was getting married and now, since they knew, Y/N had to show up with her 'boyfriend’. She racked her brain, scrambling to come up with a good excuse because it was all a big lie.

Every time, however, she reached two conclusions - either make a fool of herself and admit that she lied or tell everyone that she broke up and be the one person at the wedding that everyone looks down on with pitiful eyes.

There was a third option, which was risque as hell too, cause Y/N barely knew the man and their first meeting did not go so well, but there was definitely something about him that made her blush every time she thought of him.The way he carried himself and the dominating vibes he gave off, sent shivers down her spine. Maybe he wasn't a morning person and she did start blabbering in the elevator the minute she stepped in. She swallowed hard when she remembered the way her name rolled off his tongue. ‘How did he know?’ She wondered.

As Y/N boarded the elevator, she thought about how, she wanted nothing more than to see a certain green-eyed man again. She had been residing in this complex for almost three months but she had never seen the man before. Maybe he was new here, in this apartment building, who knew? Mind plagued by millions of thoughts, Y/N trudged down the empty hallway to her cosy little home.

“Who invented these fucking heels?” She grumbled as she freed her feet out of the painful, yet pretty high heels when she reached the comfort of her own home. Shrugging her coat off, she relaxed as her ass hit the soft mattress of the couch.

“I need a date in seven weeks.” She said, making a mental note of the wedding date. This was the only wedding she ever looked forward to attending where she knew she wouldn't have to face the constant stream of questions involving her dating life and a particular man. All she ever wanted was to be with her close friend on the best day of her life.

“First dress fitting - tomorrow at 10.” Her phone lit up with an incoming text and groaning, she dropped her head backwards. Y/N couldn't even skip the wedding if she wanted to. She was one of the bridesmaids and it wouldn't be fair to both Meg and Cas, if she didn't attend it. A smile graced her frowning face when she remembered the time Cas proposed to her friend on Valentine's Day. Cliche- Y/N would say, but deep down, she knew she just wanted what Cas and Meg had.

A sigh left her lips as she got up, still in her work clothes. She put on some light music as she went into the bathroom to freshen up. After the long, tiring day she had, a warm bath and a Ryan Gosling movie were very much needed. Quickly stripping off, she stepped into the tub. She leaned her head backwards, closing her eyes, as the warm water soothed her aching body and her troubled mind.

“Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone,” Y/N sang along the song, slightly off tune but she didn't care, as she stepped out of the bathroom after some time. She let go of the towel wrapped around her body and stepped into a pair of comfortable pjs. Getting a box cold pizza out from her refrigerator, she turned up the volume of the music playing in her apartment.

“He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring, and said,” Y/N yelled out the chorus when she started to heat up the pizza. Her private singing session, however, was cut short by a sudden knock on the door. She grudgingly pressed pause as she walked up to the door to find out the unwanted visitor.

“Excuse me- Ms L/N?” As soon as she opened the door, she was met by a very familiar, deep baritone that had been haunting her.

“Dean Winchester. And please, call me Y/N,” she breathed out. The formality in Dean’s voice made her cringe. Her eyes fell as she took in the man in front.

Dean had gotten rid of the dapper grey suit and slipped into a much laid back look. A black polo t-shirt fitted over his body and plain blue jeans hugging his bowlegs perfectly. The look on his face mirrored the one from the morning and Y/N wondered if he would look better with a smile on. Her train of thoughts were again rudely interrupted by the man speaking.

“I assume you're having somewhat of a casual evening,” Dean said, his hands waving to point at her pjs, making her suddenly self-conscious of her clothing state.

“Y-yeah. How may I help you?” She asked, genuinely curious.

“See, I moved in the apartment right beside you a few days ago, and I think you might have noticed sometime or the other that there are other people living in this building as well,” Dean said, his face not imparting any sort of emotions, “You might be having a casual evening but I can assure you that there's at least one person who is certainly not. Turn the music level down.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open at Dean’s words but she wasn't going to turn down the volume just because a man turned up at her door, asking her to do so. His words were sharp, but his tone was downright rude, and it was definitely not because he wasn't a morning person. The least he could have done was ask her nicely.

“Well, listen here pal, no one's having a problem, other than you. So you can go back to your room, put on some earplugs and do whatever the heck you were doing before you decided to make my day more awful,” Y/N said, taking a threatening stance with hands on her hips, a deep frown on her face.

“I'll file a noise complaint report against you.” Dean warned with his pointer finger right in front of her eyes.

“It's just music. Learn to appreciate the little things in life.” She said while rolling her eyes.

“I'm a very busy man and I got work to do, alright? And speaking about music, play something actually good like Zeppelin and people will personally come up to thank you. This song is not even a classic.” Dean spat back.

“Believe me or not, everyone is a Swiftie at heart.” She smirked with a sarcastic shrug. Dean’s lips twitched in anger as his face grew more rigid before he said, “If you don't lower the volume, expect a noise complaint report delivered with your newspaper tomorrow.” He walked away before Y/N had a chance to even think of a comeback.

Glancing over his shoulder, Dean went inside his own apartment room right beside Y/N’s. She glared at the empty hallway before swinging her door shut and walked back to her room towards her amazon echo, turning the music down anyway. She couldn't risk getting a report filed against her, and the man appeared to be dead serious about what he threatened to do.

“Stupid Dean Winchester.” She grumbled.

Squinting at the clock, Y/N woke up the next morning to loud bangs on her door. 7:30 am, it read. Removing the covers, she immediately shivered when the cool air hit her bare legs.

Hair still a mess, she grabbed her robe from the nearby chair, putting it on along with her slippers before she warily made her way to the door. “Dean will be complaining now for sure.” She grumbled as she unlocked her door to reveal her friend standing on the other side in a dishevelled state, eyes red like a mad woman.

“Meg?” Her face scrunched up in confusion as the said woman shoved past her into her apartment. “You’re wearing your shirt inside out.” Y/N closed the door behind her as Meg took a seat on the couch.

“Can I have some water?” Y/N dumbfoundedly nodded at her friend’s request and went to her kitchen to retrieve a glassful. Handing the glass over to her, she sat down next to the brunette who gulped down the entire glass of water in one go. Setting the utensil down on the wooden coffee table in front, she turned towards Y/N with slightly glossy eyes as she spoke, “I don’t want to go and finalise the dresses.”

Her words elicited a laugh from Y/N before she said, “Okay, bridezilla, we can reschedule it. Cas should better watch out!” She chuckled out the last words.

“No, y-you don’t understand!” Meg grabbed her friend’s hands, surprising the latter, “I don’t want to try the dress on at all.” Y/N was utterly surprised over her friend's outburst.

“Honey, you have a wedding in less than two months.” Y/N cooed as a few drops of tears rolled down the bride-to-be’s cheeks. “Meg, talk to me. Did something happen between you two?”

The woman shook her head, letting the other lady in the room know that she didn't have to kick Cas’ ass to her relief, but it confused her even further. Since their engagement five months ago, Meg had been over the moon and had started planning every minute detail with high precision and finesse for her big day.

“What if I'm making a huge mistake?”

“Don’t put me in this position. You know how I am when it comes to-”

“But I need to know, and I trust you.”

Y/N pressed her lips into a thin line before she said, “Cas is the best thing that has ever happened to you-”

“You barely even knew me when I started to go out with him. We have only been together for fifteen months - five of which I have spent being engaged to him. What if I regret this later?” Meg's words were correct. Y/N used to barely talk to her when she had started dating Cas, but all through those eighteen months, as she slowly got to know the pair well enough, she knew that they were clearly meant to be in it for the long haul.

“But I have never seen you regret your decision to be with Cas even once… so why start now?.” Y/N politely answered, her hands letting go of her distraught friend's iron-clad grasp and reaching out to soothe her.

“Sometimes even if you have been with your man for what feels like forever, marrying him might seem to be the worst decision you can ever make, but it doesn't matter how long you have been with him. When you know, you know. Follow your heart.” Meg looked up at her as she mulled her words over before speaking.

“I love him.” She said.

“Then go, be with him.” Y/N smiled. Crisis averted.

A smile started to appear on Meg’s tear stained face as her eyes twinkled with a suggestive glimmer in them. Fiddling with her sparkling ring, she said, “Dean’s good for you. Don't let him go.”

Y/N was taken aback by her friend's supposition. She sat up straight in her seat as heat crept up her neck. Her mind was stuck in a turmoil as she tried to come up with an appropriate response.

“He’s not-Dean is not-” She stuttered, the words got stuck in her throat when she tried to think of a decent excuse. Maybe, this was the universe giving her a chance to take back everything she had said before, but the disheartened look on her friend’s face made her rethink her decision. After all, a little white lie never hurt anybody. “Yeah, he is a good man.” Meg smiled as Y/N played her into the deception game once again.

“Will he be at the wedding?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“What are you waiting for? Unless he is a figment of your imagination, ask him! I want to meet this certain Dean Winchester.” Meg giggled.

“I don’t have such vivid imaginations, Meg.” Y/N let out a nervous chuckle. She was now being given an ample amount of opportunities to tell the truth, then why was it so hard for her to deny everything she had said? Maybe she liked living in this utopian world where for once, no one deemed her as the broken, pathetic girl who failed to make a man stay. Maybe deep down, she wanted this damn lie to be true.

“I’ll ask him but you do know how men are about weddings.” She replied, having no knowledge of how to keep her end of the promise.

Chapter 3

Feedback is highly appreciated

If you want to be tagged in the series, lemme know!

[petri808]

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Inukag Royalty Au

Queen Higurashi looked up after reading the letter. “What is the meaning of this Sango?” Her voice straining against lashing out in a mix of anger and confusion. “Prepare a wedding? For whom, Kagome? But where is Kagome?”

“I am very sorry your majesty,” Sango bowed, “but I am only the messenger for the Inutaisho. He didn’t tell me all the details either.”

The instructions sent by letter and stamped with the Inutaisho’s official seal explained that the Higurashi’s should prepare a secret wedding ceremony. It was a brief letter and requested the only other person that should be in attendance besides the royal family was the priest. All the trappings of a traditional royal wedding affair would not take place, such as inviting the nobles or holding a large ball to celebrate. It was important to maintain a secrecy.

“Then you tell me everything that you do know!” The King snapped. “This is our daughter!”

“I understand, your majesty, I really do. But I am doing this to protect the Princess. I agree with the Inutaisho that there is a potential spy, but we don’t know who or where they are to have found out about the cancelled marriage arrangement. So, secrecy is our only protection. Please just know the Princess is safe and everything will be made clear when the Inutaisho arrives here in a week.”

“Do you truly believe this spy exists?” The queen questioned the young woman.

Sango stood tall and firm in her conviction. “Yes, your majesty. I do.”

The queen and king shared a silent conversation before turning back to the attendant. “Very well, we will honor the Inutaisho’s request. But is there really nothing else we should be preparing? What will Kagome wear? Are no flowers needed?”

Sango shook her head. “If there really is a spy in our midst, ordering such things will raise suspicions and I got the impression that the Inutaisho will make sure anything else required will be taken care of. Right now, the important thing to do is act as normally as possible until they arrive.”

King and Queen Higurashi were concerned, but in the end, they knew Sango was loyal to their daughter and would never do anything that could put her in harm’s way. So, they chose to trust her. It had already been a shock to them to learn their daughter had been living an assumed life in the Inu kingdom but were even more confused on how the Inutaisho became involved. It was a relief in a way, despite not knowing all the details because King Naraku was not someone they’d want their daughter to marry. They’d been threatened with force if they hadn’t agreed to the marriage, so this might just be their saving grace. Their trusted priest was contacted and sworn to secrecy, to be ready in about a week’s time to perform a marriage ceremony, with the only other person told anything being their younger son Souta. The young man was less concerned over his sister’s whereabouts all this time and simply happy that he’ll be seeing her again.

And right as expected, a week later the castle guards were notified of the Inutaisho’s arrival. But not just the King, a full entourage including the whole royal family. The castle’s staff was sent into a full frenzy to ready enough sleeping quarters for the royals, and a meeting room was also readied so the two families could finally sort out just what in the world was going on.

Kagome led the Inu family into the meeting room and immediately upon seeing her mother the tears began to pool in her eyes from all the guilt of putting them through this. She rushed over and hugged the queen.

“I’m sorry for running away,” she quietly whimpered into her mother’s shoulder. “This is all my fault.”

“Oh, my dear, please don’t blame yourself.” The woman rubbed her hand up and down in a soothing manner along Kagome’s back. “We were partially to blame as well. Now dear,” the woman pulled away and cupped her daughter’s cheek while wiping away the tears. “Please tell us what is going on.”

Kagome looked back and gestured for Inuyasha to come to her. “It will all be explained, but first I’d like you to meet his son, prince Inuyasha.”

“Your majesty’s,” the man bowed his head to the royals.

“It is nice to finally meet you, prince Inuyasha,” the king and queen smiled at the handsome man.

Kagome then took Inuyasha’s hand and interlaced their fingers. “Mom, Inuyasha is the man I’ll be marrying.”

Her parent’s eyes widened. They’d suspected it, but to have it confirmed was a joy! “Oh, thank the gods!” The queen smiled. “But how did this happen?”

It was at this point that the Inutaisho stepped forward. “We should first discuss the more pressing issue that’s brought us here today.”

The Higurashi’s nodded and motioned towards a sitting area. From there the rest of the Inu family were introduced to the Higurashi’s before being escorted to their guest rooms. Only the Inutaisho, Queen Izayoi, Inuyasha, and Kagome were the ones to stay behind.

Inutaisho spoke first. “I shall leave the details of how Kagome originally came to us for her to tell you later.” He explained how his son had fallen in love and that is what prompted him to call off the original marriage arrangement, but of course at the time they didn’t know of Kagome’s true identity. It was only revealed when Sango arrived to take her home. “Once that happened, I was shocked to find out she was the original princess he was betrothed to, but also furious to learn Naraku had swept in and threatened you over her hand. That is not something I will tolerate, because it means he’d had spies either in my palace, your castle, or both to have learned such information.”

“So, what are you saying?” King Higurashi questioned. “We’re still bound by the new contract, and he is probably on his way right now.”

“I believe,” the Inutaisho continued, “that this is both our faults for not telling our children the truth right from the beginning. Had we introduced them before setting up the arrangement, perhaps none of this would have happened. But we cannot undo the the past and therefore, I feel there is a way to set things right again. Our new arrangement provided that the Inu Kingdom would step in to protect this one and that is exactly what I plan to do.”

“And how do you propose to do so?” King Higurashi questioned.

“I have already hidden a garrison in the surrounding area.”

“Will one be enough?” Queen Higurashi questioned.

“Yes. They are our strongest yokai division. So, when King Naraku arrives he will have no chance against them.”

“But why did we need to prepare for a wedding ceremony?”

“To make Kagome and Inuyasha’s marriage official before he got here. Between a binding marriage vow and the threat of destruction, Naraku would be a fool to test my might. If once everything has been settled, you wish to hold a proper celebration, I see no harm in that.”

“Thank you, your majesty.” King and queen Higurashi bowed their heads to Inutaisho.

“I want you to know that over the course of these months, Kagome has truly become a part of our family. So, it is my honor to play a role in setting things right.” Inutaisho smiled. “Plus, she’s a very good match for my son.”

Queen Higurashi sighed in relief. “It’s a genuine pleasure to see my daughter happy too.”

Before Queen Izayoi took her leave, she explained to her counterpart that Kagome’s dress was already made, and flowers had been brought in for a bouquet. They were also instructed to tell their staff that the Inu clan was just there to attend the upcoming wedding in order to keep rumors lowered. Next the two kings moved onto outlining what will happen when Naraku arrived. One plan was to confront him immediately before they even arrived at the gate, while another was to allow him entry and confront him in the throne room. The second option came down to if the hunter Inutaisho brought to track down Naraku’s spy was successful.

While the men discussed the military details, queen Higurashi, Kagome, and Inuyasha retreated to another private room. As soon as the trio sat down, the refined poise of a queen was turned off. “Alright, spill it.” The woman scolded the couple in a light tone. “I want all the details and starting from the beginning.”

The couples faces turned pink in embarrassment, but nevertheless, Kagome began telling the tale of how she’d become princess Rin’s attendant at the palace, to the budding romance between she and Inuyasha. “We both tried so hard to fight our feelings,” the woman looked down in nervous shame. “But it just grew stronger instead.”

“That’s when I’d fought with my father to cancel the arrangement. I told him I’d rather stay single if it meant living with Kagome in the palace for the rest of my life.”

“I probably should have told Inu the truth right there,” Kagome admitted. “But I was so afraid the king would kick me out because not only did I want to stay with Inuyasha, but I didn’t want to leave Rin as well.”

Inuyasha grasped Kagome’s fidgeting fingers. “And I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for her. Rin’s truly blossomed because of you.”

“Kagome,” her mother addressed her. “I hope you know that we always had the best intentions for you and I’m sorry that because we weren’t honest with you it drove you to run away. I was more afraid then upset not knowing if you were okay, so it warms my heart to know you’ve been in good hands all along.”

“The Inu’s made me feel like family from the beginning, and I can’t thank them enough for their hospitality.”

The queen smiled. “I’m proud of you Kagome. To know I bore such a strong woman, I can rest well, knowing you’ll be able to weather anything thrown at you.”

Kagome’s eyes teared up as she moved over to hug her mother. “Thank you, that means the world to me to hear that.”

The queen hugged her back. “Oh, I love you so much my dear.”

“I love you too mom.”

“And thank you, Inuyasha, for taking care of my little girl. I have no doubt that your marriage will be a long and happy one.”

“Thank you, your majesty,” Inuyasha smiled. “I will treat her like a queen.”

The following day, the royal families gathered in the chapel to solidify the marriage between Inuyasha and Kagome. While a small affair, it was still a special one with Rin playing a flower bearer, Sango a bridesmaid, and Miroku a groomsman. Inuyasha wore a white ceremonial military uniform with red and gold accouterments and decked out with the royal Inu family crest. Kagome’s white dress followed the style of the Inu kingdom with a form fitting top and flowing floor length dress, decorated with red and gold patterns to mirror Inuyasha’s garb.

The couple stood facing one another before the priest who took their hands and placed one on top of the other, then lightly wrapped the layered hands with a white sash to signify their union. He then placed his own hand on top and began the sermon.

“There is nothing more blessed than the coming together of two individuals in matrimony. To love each other and support each other through sickness and in health until the end of their days. And what I see before me is a tested love that shall endure whatever trials or tribulations may come their way.”

“Prince Inuyasha, do you take princess Kagome to be your wedded wife, to cherish and honor with love and loyalty until the end of your days?”

“I do.”

“And do you, princess Kagome, take prince Inuyasha to be your wedded husband, to cherish and honor with love and loyalty until the end of your days?”

“I do.”

“Then unless there is any here that objects to this Union, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

“Finally,” Inuyasha breathed out as he swooped in and kissed a giggling Kagome.

Cheers and clapping from all around the couple went ignored, and the attendees simply became a faded background. This had been the moment they’d been fated for all along and to finally have it consummated, truly felt like a new beginning. When she ran away from home, Kagome never imagined this is where she’d end up. Marrying a man, she’d fallen in love with all on her own instead of through an arranged marriage. Perhaps the gods had been on her side all along.

Inuyasha’s fingers swept gently over her cheek as he stared with blissful intent into her eyes. “I love you, Kagome.”

She leaned into his hand as her eyes softened. “I love you too, Inuyasha.”

Just a little longer and they’ll truly be free…

[anothertimdrakestan]

Marrying The YJ Boys HC!

this is pt2 to finish the request! checkout pt one HERE which is with the batfam not yj boys! hope you enjoy!

Wally West:

- this might sound crazy, but you guys choose to elope

- wally takes dick and you take your best friend/s and you guys head to somewhere beautiful and remote

- as outgoing as wally is he wants you to be the star of the show and he's convinced you're the only thing he needs, so why wait?

- somewhere with the sun shining and a light breeze you're wearing something white and flow-y while wally cries for a whole day straight

- he'll suprise you with the most beautiful ring, as soon as he knew he was proposing he gave himself a speedy crash course in ring making

- it's embedded with tiny, delicate diamonds and intricate engravings. it would take days to make, even as a speedster which made your heart melt on the spot

- dick and wally are a mess, hanging on each other sobbing while you and y/b/f shed a couple smiling tears but are mostly laughing at their uncontrollable sobs

- during the vows you have to slow wally down 3 times because he gets too excited

- all the adorable instagram pictures with angry comments from barry and iris that they weren't invited

- you start your honeymoon right then! a perfect trip and it honestly might bring dick and y/b/f together and it could turn into a couples trip! wally will tell everyone it was happiest few weeks of his entire life, and you'll punch him with a smile

Conner Kent (not yj animated 🤮)

- farm wedding farm wedding farm wedding

- but make it classy

- i can't say i think kon would be all that interested but lois and ma kent would fill the spot because it's their favorite person marrying their son (see what i did there ;)

- ma kent is making pies because frick cakes when you can enjoy perfection

- jon and damian are convinced kyrpto, ace, and titus can be flower dogs and have spent 20+ hours straight training the dogs to throw petals to no avail

- bart, cassie, and tim are all in charge of getting conner wedding ready, they've had full fights about colors, hair sculpting, and who has to shave conner (bart lost because super speed)

- you were a little wary about a farm wedding but it turns out super speedy super strong hero's under lois and ma's command can turn rustic into beautiful

- there's lots of people planning on attending, kids were welcome and so were all behaved animals (damian demanded) so hundreds of chairs were to be set up

- the wedding is perfect, it's beyond beautiful, jon cries when he gave you and conner the rings and had to be dragged off the alter by an embarrassed damian while he wailed about how much he loved you and how excited he was you were now family

- when you throw the bouquet Steph catches it and looks Cass dead in the eyes with an hopeful grin

- it's wonderful to watch everyone mingle and congratulate you, after a outfit change your secured in conners arms off to a wonderful honeymoon with a wonderful hubby!

Garfield Logan:

- the proposal went viral, it was beautiful, trendsetting, perfect, and heart warming

- but that means everyone knows you're marrying gar, and now the paparazzi are on you 24/7

- you two knew eloping would mean crazy people following so you decided to get married at the titan tower, where it all began

- with some help from super powered friends a beautiful venue was set up on the top of the tower overlooking the water and eventually the sunset and stars

- yellowy twinkle lights are strung along white folding chairs melding into the warm sunlight from the sunset

- gar looks dashing, he's practically glowing, nothing fuels him like being surrounded by his love ones holding your hands

- your vows to gar are passionate and loving, dick and kori are shaking with silent tears, tim swears he saw bruce push away a rogue tear when you recounted what losing your powers briefly was like and how it secured you knowing gar was the one you were going to marry

- gars vows are honest and heart warming, he goes over all the little things you do, how when he first saw you laugh his hard twisted, everyone was laughing uncontrollably when he explained how he used to turn into a caterpillar to get you to hold him without you knowing when he was crushing on you all those years ago

- when you finally kiss him, gar's lips are a little salty from crying and you know your cheeks are a little puffy as well, but it adds to the pure magic, because you just married your best friend. nothing will top the feeling of kissing him literally on top of the world, the last rays of sunlight dancing down on your union

Bart Allen:

- you and bart were never ones for staying to societies standards, and a day of stressful planning to appease your in-laws didn't sound like the right fit - bart's parents were still in pre-k after all

- you both know you want to be together forever, so you put wedding money towards a down payment on a beautiful house in central city

- you both get dressed up in your best, bart's hair as poofy as ever but a little more tamed, you're wearing a short white dress if that's your style, or an elegant top with your favorite blazer and hair style that bart always says is his favorite

- you'll speed to the court, say quick vows and join your union then get back in your moving van and head to your beautiful new home

- of course you celebrate the wedding with a house warming party and all your loved ones

- you're busy showing off your beautiful ring and explaining how excited you are to start your journey with b

- bart can't stop taking people on house tours, explaining which room will be a study and maybe a nursery and how he wants to decorate your shared bedroom, it's beyond adorable he's practically phasing through the floor with excitement

- every couple minutes or so a flash of speed zooms uo next to you to give you a kiss

- "hiyamrsallen! isntitsocoolyoureanallennow! like youreliterallymywifebabe! wifeywowiloveyou! okayconnerwantsatourgottago! loveyou!"

- after everyone has left you and bart lay on the hardwood floor on your backs, holding hands whispering about everything you're both excited to do together in your new home

- "i love you y/n, for better or for worse"

- "in sickness or in speed force lover boy"

[shawnmendesbuddy]

Betrothed to Someone Else

Summary: Y/N is the youngest of 7 sisters. Shawn and her are in love, but he is set to marry the 5th sister.

Warnings: Sucky writing lol

Growing up with 7 sisters was difficult. But being the youngest of the 7 was a nightmare.

I’ve been told since I was little that because I was the youngest, I had to wait until all my sisters were married before I could be.

The worst part about it all perhaps, was that my sister was set to marry the man I’ve been in love with for years. Sara, the fifth sister of the family. She was gorgeous and my mother had already arranged her marriage to my love.

His name is Shawn. And I’ve been in love with him since I was 10 years old. We met at a party where Laura, one of my older sisters, met her husband.

***

I watched as Laura and her betrothed danced across the room. She was beautiful and they made a lovely couple. She was sister number three, a good eight years older than me.

I felt a light tapping on my shoulder so I slowly turned around. I was met with hazel eyes and a tuft of brown curls. “Hi, I’m Shawn.” The boy said, extending his hand out towards me.

“Y/N,” I replied, shaking his hand.

“How old are you?”

“I’m 10.”

He sent me a toothy grin before replying. “I’m 12. Want to dance with me?”

I nodded shyly as he grabbed my hands and swung me around. “Are you having fun?” He’d ask every few minutes, to which I would always reply to with a nod.

He was an awful dancer but I found it endearing. And when it was time to go home, he kissed my hand and told me goodbye. We planned to meet some time within the next week, as we found out we lived by each other.

And that was the night I first started to fall in love with him.

***

“Y/N! Time to get up dear, it’s breakfast time! Today’s the big day! Sara is finally meeting her suitor!” My lady in waiting called from my doorway while ringing the wake up bell.

I sighed and slowly rose from my bed. The floor was cold beneath my feet as I went about my room, brushing my hair and putting on petticoats.

Annie, my lady in waiting, had set aside a beautiful gown for me to wear to the dinner and party we were attending at Shawn’s house.

I sighed as Annie slowly helped me into the dress. My hair had been in curlers the night before and it fell over my shoulders in elegant waves.

I looked at myself in the mirror. I was beautiful. Perhaps the most beautiful I had ever been. My body had finally matured a few years ago and I looked regal in my gown.

“You look beautiful. Only one more sister to wait for after tonight, and then it will be your turn. You’ll get snatched up faster than your other sisters. You’re far more beautiful.” Annie said from behind me as she cinched up my gown.

“Thank you Annie, but the only man I’ve ever wanted is courting my sister and will be wed with her in the next few months. How am I supposed to just sit there and watch her love, kiss, marry and have kids with the man I love!”

Annie had known that me and Shawn had been secretly hanging out since the first night we met. She full heartedly approved of it, hoping that one day we would be wed. But now, Sara will have him. The only man that I love and the only man that has ever loved me.

Annie’s face popped out from behind my gown in the mirror and she gave me a glum smile. She patted my hand before lacing her fingers through mine. “You’ll get through it dear. I promise.”

***

The carriage ride to the Mendes Manor went too quickly. It was as if I hadn’t even blinked and we had suddenly arrived.

A footman helped me out of the carriage, giving me his hand. A few carriages up, I saw Shawn helping Sara out of her carriage. A pang of sadness and jealously ran through me.

Shawn made eye contact with me for a few seconds, but I looked away. I couldn’t bear the thought of him marrying my sister.

I trudged up the steps slowly behind Sara and Shawn. She had her arm linked under Shawn’s and they were making light conversation.

Aaliyah, Shawn’s sister came up beside me and discreetly linked my hand with hers. She had been the only person besides Annie to know about me and Shawn. I could tell she was having a hard time seeing her brother with someone other than me.

My eyes filled with tears but I pushed them back as we entered the all too familiar house. It smelt the same as always; like old pine and the pages of a library book. I inhaled the scent as we walked towards the dining room.

My mother sat to the right of Shawn’s mother. Shawn’s dad sat next to her, Shawn sat next to him, and then my sister beside him. Shawn pulled the chair out for Sara and then pushed it back in once she had taken her seat.

Donnetella, the sister just above me, only older than me by 10 months, sat in the empty chair beside my mom. I sat down next to her, Sara right across the table from me. At least it wasn’t Shawn. And Aaliyah, bless her heart, sat next to me.

In a way, I felt betrayed by him. I had found out a few weeks ago that Sara and Shawn were to be wed. Shawn had known about it too and he promised me that he wouldn’t allow it to happen. He promised me that he would tell his father he was in love with me. That he didn’t want to marry Sara. But alas, here I sit, my heart broken from the empty promises he made.

“So Lady Sara, tell me about your sisters.” Shawn said, breaking the silence as we all started to eat. I could feel his eyes on me but I wouldn’t look up at him.

“Well the one across from you is Donnatella. We call her Don for short. She’s the second youngest. She loves horseback riding and carriage rides.

“And then the one across from me is Y/N. She’s the baby of the family. She loves reading, writing, singing, the sorts. Anything that involves art has Y/N’s name written all over it.”

“Well it’s nice to meet the two of you. And you have…four other sisters right?” I almost laughed. He was playing dumb. He knew almost everything about my family. I talked about them a lot to him.

“Yes. They’re all married and some even have kids.”

Shawn raised his eyebrows in false interest. “Wow! That must be exciting. I only have one other sibling and I adore her. Liyah right there,” Shawn pointed towards her, a grin plastered on his face. “She’s the best.” Shawn chanced a glance at me and I quickly looked back down at my food.

“Lady Y/N, Sara says you enjoy music. Do you happen to play any instruments?”

That sly, conniving, twit. He knew I could play the piano and he was going to make me play it for him! Or maybe even play it with him!

I stabbed the chicken on my plate with my fork, not looking up as I replied. “I play lots of instruments. The violin, the harp, a guitar, and a piano are perhaps the ones I am best at.” I looked up at him smiling, daring him to ask me to play the piano for him.

“Well I play piano too. Do you maybe want to serenade our families together after dinner,” he also wore a smug smile as he stared me down.

“Sure.” Challenge accepted.

***

Dinner was awkward to say the least. Shawn kept finding ways to ask Sara about me, or indirectly talk to me. I could tell my mother was getting annoyed, but Shawn’s parents kept looking between the two of us, trying to hide their smiles.

“The piano is just through these doors,” Shawn opened the double doors to the sitting room where the grand piano sat. Sara’s arm was still clasped around his as he turned around to grin at me.

Shawn gestured at me to sit down on the piano bench. He sat right next to me, our elbows and knees touching.

“So, any requests?” Shawn’s asked his family and mine.

“Play Night! I’m sick of only hearing Y/N play one part, I want to hear both!” Sara said as she stood next to Shawn.

“Alright, shall we?” Shawn asked. I nodded my head. “I’ll take the chords, you take the notes.”

My hands danced across the keys as Shawn played his part and I played mine. Our hands would brush along each other’s as we played and I felt my heart flutter.

When the song finished, I closed my eyes and listened as the last note rung throughout the room. There was silence for a moment before both our families started clapping.

“That was lovely you two,” Shawn’s mom said.

“Thank you,” I replied, quickly standing from the piano bench and resuming my spot next to my mom and sister. Shawn looked at me desperately, begging me to come play another song with him. I quickly shook my head.

“Well then, I think it’s time we start making arrangements for the wedding,” my mom announced. “Sara and I were thinking we could host it at our house in one month from today. That is if you’re able to do it that day too.”

Shawn’s eyes left mine as they flutter over to his parents’ faces. “A month from now, that should do. But I’m not sure that Sara and Shawn are a good fit.”

My mother’s face turned red as a tomato as she looked at Shawn’s parents. “Well we’ve already made the arrangement. You’re bound by contract and so is he,” she pointed at Shawn.

“We realize that, but what if he married someone else in the family instead of Sara?”

“And who might you be suggesting,” my mom’s voice was cold and hard. She was starting to catch on and I didn’t like where this was headed. My mom wasn’t particularly fond of me. I was the forgotten child most of the time.

“Well our son seems to have taken a certain liking to your youngest daughter, Y/N. They seem to share a connection and we want them to be wed, that is if you and Y/N agree.”

“Absolutely not! We agreed that Shawn would marry Sara! This twit of a girl,” she smacked me on the back of my head and I cried out in pain,”is not wife material. She’s clumsy and stupid. Unlike Sara. You wouldn’t want your brilliant and handsome son marrying her!”

I was on the verge of tears at this point, humiliated. Shawn rose from the piano bench and tried to come comfort me, but Sara grabbed his arm. She had never liked me either, jealous of my musical talent and beauty.

“You really want her over me?!” She screamed at him, her face turning rabid.

Shawn glanced toward me, tears about to spill over my eyes. His face held sorrow, despair, guilt, and hopelessness. “I…I love her with all of my being! I have for years now! In fact, we’ve been sneaking around to hang with the other for years now too! I don’t care about a stupid contract! I’ll pay whatever amount it is to get out of it! I just want to be with her!” Shawn pulled his wrist out of Sara’s grasp and he ran towards me.

“Mother, Father, please let me marry Lady Y/N!” He wrapped me in a tight hug, his arms around my waist as he cradled my head, pulling me away from my mom.

“Serafina, please. We’ll pay you anything, but can’t you see the two are in love?” Shawn’s parents argued with my mother.

“Fine! But it will cost you half your fortune!”

“Done!”

***

Shawn held me in his arms as we waved goodbye to everyone gathered on the streets. He kissed my lips once, twice, three times, before whispering a soft ‘I love you’ into my ear as we rode off into the distance to our honeymoon destination. I had never felt this happy in my life.

[rosy-cheekx]

I Want To Be A Real Fake

@kaiserkorresponds said: Black and White + "I want to be a real fake" + formal clothing <3

Prompted fic that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since I received it! Hope you like it, Kaiser!

-

Jon would not consider himself fashionable. He has a distinct sense of style, yes, but that style lately has been Tired-Academic-Works-in-a-Cold-Office,-Steals-Sweaters-When-Necessary-core. Not exactly suitable for the business casual dress code The Magnus Institute “requires” (no one seemed to pay attention to the Archive staff’s choices of attire), but certainly not suitable for the small rectangle of cardstock Elias Bouchard hands him, on a quiet spring morning in the Archive.

“What’s…what’s this?” Jon asked, staring at the neat, printed text as if it was Greek. (If it were Greek, at least, he could decipher parts of it. He was an English Lit student, after all, and he had really enjoyed etymology.) The card was a stiff black and white, with the black owl logo, the symbol of the Magnus Institute, printed in the top middle. Glancing down at it, he saw a date, and the words: “black-tie.” Shit.

“My apologies, I forgot how tired your position tends to leave you.” Elias’s voice was prim and polite, but Jon still winced inwardly. “As a head of a department, you are now strongly encouraged to attend the fundraiser I host in April each year. Our donors are fascinated by our departments, and especially the Archives. Gertrude’s disappearance has raised questions as to her successor, and I trust you can assuage the concerns of our donors at your accomplishments in the position.” Jon chose to believe that Elias’s keen eye didn’t sweep the mountains of paperwork that surrounded his desk as he surveyed the small, poorly lit office. “I’m certain you’ll be able to find appropriate attire for the occasion.”

He turned on a heel, halfway to the door before seemingly considering something. “Ah, and Jon, one more thing. Gertrude always requested she bring an assistant. Would you like to do the same? I am happy to accommodate one more for the catering count.”

Jon snapped his mouth shut, utterly dumbfounded by the responsibility just thrust upon him, and nodded mutely, before clearing his throat. “Ah-um, yes, I would appreciate that. Does it matter which one?”

“Someone who can make a pleasant impression, please.” Elias raised an eyebrow, nodded almost imperceptibly, like he had made a decision, and rapped his knuckles on the doorframe on the way out. “I trust your judgement.”

Jon counted to thirty, to be certain Elias wasn’t coming back, and slouched into his office chair, scanning the save-the-date again, without the immense pressure of Elias’s eyes on him.

“The Magnus Institute Fundraiser Gala,” it read below the embossed owl, within a thin black border. “23 April, 7-10 pm. Black tie. Catered.” Jon traced the owl with the pad of his finger, flipping the card over to see, in Elias’s thin cursive: Make a good impression, Jon.

God, this is going to suck.

-

“Sasha, come on.” Jon wasn’t one to beg, but desperate times and all that. He had cornered her in the breakroom, while Martin was on a research trip and Tim was getting takeaway from the chippie down the street. “It’s only three weeks away, and you’re the one I trust the most. Please.”

“Jon,” Sasha sighed, smoothing her skirt patiently. “I would if I could, I swear to you. But my sister’s wedding has been planned for months, I’ve already requested time off, and I can’t undo all that for a work party.”

“Fundraiser,” Jon corrected instinctively, even as he signed in resignation. “Fine. I just really didn’t want to go alone.”

Sasha scoffed, shaking her head to herself as she opened the fridge and pulled out her bagged lunch. “You have two other assistants you know. What about Tim? Or Martin?”

Jon wrinkled his nose at the thought of bringing nervous, rambling, doe-eyed Martin to the gala. “God no. Martin would be too much; I need someone who can handle themselves and hold a decent conversation. I need someone who can attend a black-tie gala and look more at-home than me.” A withering look from Sasha.

“So why not Tim, then? He can do all those things.”

“Do all what things?” Jon jumped and spun around to see Tim, carrying a grease-spotted bag in one hand and a paper soda cup in the other. He surveyed Tim in a moment: the button-up shirt, red and printed with tiny black balloons, sleeves rolled to the elbows. Sunglasses pushed to the top of his head, dark black hair artfully mussed. High cheekbones dotted with freckles, and what Jon swore could be the faintest bit of eyeliner.

“Tim, would you like to go to a fashionable, catered work party with me?”

“Boss,” Tim lowered himself to a knee and held out his soda solemnly. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“Tim, that’s backwards. The kneeler isn’t the one who accepts,” Sasha chuckles helpfully.

“You’re just jealous of our love, Sash!”

Good Lord.

-

Jon was really hoping the food would be good. He was in Tim’s flat, in the toilet, checking himself in the mirror one final time. His hair was carefully braided, courtesy of Tim’s deft hands and coiled into a thick bun at the base of his skull, gold and emerald hairpin snugly in place. His suit was nice: a respectable white shirt, dotted with tiny lime-colored flowers he had to strain his eyes to see, under a dark green suit jacket and matching trousers. The suit itself was cut in a rather androgynous style, pulling tight at Jon’s waist in a way he rather liked, and contrasted beautifully, he thought, with the smooth brown of his skin. He flicked an invisible piece of lint from his thigh and, satisfied, stepped into the hall to tell Tim he was ready to go.

“Tim, I’m all-woah,” the exhale was accidental. Tim’s suit was certainly not subtle. He was wearing a deep blue turtleneck, hair perfectly coiffed. Over the turtleneck, the suit jacket was white, a spray of water-color flowers in all shades of blue and purple shifting with every movement. The navy blue heeled suede boots on his feet accentuated his already-tall frame “Tim, you look good,” Jon breathed.

“Ouch. No need to sound all surprised. I know I clean up well; I dirty pretty damn good too.” Tim chuckled and adjusted his sleeves. “You don’t look so bad yourself, Mr. ‘I don’t want anything too crazy.’”

Jon grinned shyly, rocking on his heels of his own, less intimidating dress shoes. “I like it, I think. It feels nice.” The excitement over how good he felt in the clothes had, all too briefly, suppressed the impending doom he was feeling about the evening’s events. “Are you ready for tonight?” he asked for what must have been the fiftieth time, spinning the solid black ring he wore around his finger.

“Yes, Jon. Talk about the reorganization process as a structural renovation, converting files to audio formatting for future accessibility, don’t talk about artefact storage even a little, don’t get caught up with anyone too pretty, I get it.” His voice was flat, bored by the repetition. “This is going to be fine.”

“What-what if it isn’t, though, Tim? What if they ask about Gertrude or how their money is being used, o-or how the restructuring is going? I can’t bloody well tell them I’m using a tape recorder that’s probably older than I am.”

“Jon,” Tim’s well-manicured hand was on his shoulder, nails the same blue of his turtleneck. “Take a deep breath. For Gertrude: be honest. It was a tragedy, and you hope she’s found, but until then you’re doing your best to act on her wishes as her replacement. And for the rest, be vague. Restructuring is going ‘as well as can be expected’ or ‘is running quite smoothly with the help of your three wonderful assistants.’” He winked. “And tell them you’re using a multimedia system, that’ll confuse those old boomers enough to move topics. And it is technically true. Laptops and a tape recorder are multiple medias. Anything else we can riff, you know? I can talk with the best of them.” He eyed Jon meaningfully. “This will be fine. It’s one night. And we’ll get chips after. Promise.”

Jon nodded and closed his eyes, breathing steadying. He was grateful Tim had been available. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

-

“So, how did you know what black tie meant?” Jon asked, eyeing Tim across the seat of the cab. They’re on their way now and Jon’s hands are steepled tightly, pressing his fingertips against each other until it hurts to do so. “I had to Google it last week when I went shopping, in case we had to wear literal black ties.” He needed to talk about anything, anything but this stupid fundraiser they drove steadily towards.

Tim grew silent for a moment, considering his words. “My brother was an extra in a movie once and started dating a stylist for one of the leads. He fibbed his way into getting us tickets for premieres, so I’ve made my way through a few high-fashion events.” He shrugged, fiddling with a thin silver bracelet along his wrist, were Jon knew the letter D was carved in delicate cursive. “I like it, too, you know? Dressing up for events. It makes me feel debonaire, like a spy.”

Jon shook his head in disagreement. “Makes me feel fake,” he mumbled, eyeing the lorry floor beneath them. “Like everyone knows I don’t belong. I hate having their eyes on me and knowing they’re better than me.”

Tim prodded Jon with his elbow gently, raising his eyebrows in a comforting manner. “That’s it though, isn’t it? We aren’t fake. We worked our way here. Hell, you’re the boss of an entire department, Jon. We’ve gotten to where we are in the Institute because we deserve to be here. And anyways, everyone at that party next week is gonna be fake. They’re pretending to care about our jobs, and we pretend to care about their money, and they pretend they’re even the ones who write the checks and not some snooty financial advisor in Wales.”

Jon shrugged, trying to keep himself from biting back that he wasn’t enough, didn’t earn this spot, that Sasha deserved it more than he did and was doing nothing to prove to Elias he was up to the monumental task of being the Head Archivist. He didn’t, though, and instead took a steadying breath, nodding to Tim’s comforting words.

“And anyways,” Tim continued, shrugging. “Even if we have to be fake for a night, it’ll be fun. We get to be a part of ‘the queen’s high society,’” he added in a high-pitched, overly fake RP accent, eliciting a chuckle from Jon. “And Rosie said the catering Elias orders is divine. Apparently we should keep an eye out for tiny samosas?”

As if on cue, the cab shuddered to a stop. Jon thanked the driver, paid, and followed Tim out.

-

The Institute looked different under the pretense of wealth and success. It was still the same building of course, but the floor was clear of the rain mats and the smooth marble floor paved the way to the library, the main sitting room of which had been cleared as a rather respectable grand hall to host a party. Tables lined the cordoned off books, hot plates and silver trays steaming slightly. Bottles of wine lined a bar, behind which a vested individual with slicked-back hair was pouring small glasses and taking orders. A quiet orchestra completed the scene, cello and piano in a delicate duet. Before tonight, Jon couldn’t have imagined this many people in the Institute alone, least of all the library. Not that it’s packed. There’s maybe thirty or so well-dressed individuals milling about, the din of conversation white noise in comparison to the floating of the music.

Tim’s hand is on his back, pressing kindly into his spine. Oh yes, he remembers dimly, and nods, allowing Tim to guide him into the library and hand him a glass of wine. They stand out a little, two beacons of color around what is a pretty drab spectrum of black and grey, save for a few spectacular dresses in the crowd. Jon finds he doesn’t mind it, except that it may lead to unwanted conversation. It’s not his looks he fears being judged on, but that he be found wanting when it came to his capabilities. He was always selectively self-conscious like that, some things utterly meaningless, others inexplicably important.

Jon isn’t a huge fan of wine, but he finds himself clinging to the glass as a lifeline as he and Tim meander through the crowds, largely ignored. The music is intoxicatingly simple; he finds himself caught up in the deep reverberations of the cello as they walk, feeling it deep in his chest. There were, in fact, samosas, as well as small cannoli, and he and Tim piled plates as high as they could without garnering stares.

There weren’t many people Jon recognized; he didn’t even see Elias as he scanned the crowd for faces. Wine in one hand, a plate in the other, he thought maybe the night wouldn’t be too bad.

Jon shivered, the sensation of being stared at prickling the back of his neck. He spun around, trying to appear casual, and spotted Elias at last. He was standing with a large man, broad and wearing a deep blue suit, scruffy beard a mix of tawny and white. Elias crooked his finger, smiling primly. As Jon made his way over to the pair-who he could’ve sworn he hadn’t seen previously, he was intercepted by a short bald man in a plum velour suit, leaning heavily on a cane.

“Ah, Archivist,” he smiled warmly, extending a hand to shake before seeing Jon’s hands were full, and nodding his head instead. “Congratulations on your promotion. Elias has told me he expects great things from you.”

Jon smiled politely, glancing over to see Elias and the other man gone again. Regretfully, he turned his attention back to the man. “It’s a shame about Gertrude, yes, but I’m hoping I can do her proud,” he said in a practiced tone. He glanced over his shoulder. Where was Tim? He was just with him.

“Of course, of course. I was hoping I could have a word?”

“W-with me?”

“Yes, you see, I was rather concerned when I heard Gertrude’s position had been left open. When Elias said you yourself where at the junction to take over, I wanted to meet you for myself. I worry about the Archivists in your institute, so many of you do such monumental work for so little recognition. Do you worry your work to be meaningless?  Your name insignificant when it is all said and done?”

(It is this conversation he remembers, months later, when he demands to record Prentiss’ attack. He refuses to be another mystery, a name on a placard to be wondered about.)

“I-ah, yes? No?” What was the right answer here? Jon stammered out a half-assed reply about doing his best, midway through when he felt a hand firmly on his shoulder, where his neck and collarbone met. Glancing to his peripheral, he saw a golden ring, an eye, and was frustratingly grateful to hear the cool tones of Elias Bouchard over his shoulder.

“Now Simon,” he said, voice even, “you aren’t trying to scare my dear Archivist, are you?” He gave the shoulder a squeeze but remained put. “Jon, I believe you’ve heard of Simon Fairchild, a significant donor to our establishment.”

Jon nodded wordlessly, not really listening to the two bureaucrats delve off into some topic or other, craning his neck to look for Tim. The music had picked up, he registered dimly, a orchestral melody led by a violin, sharp and whimsical.

“Jon?” Another squeeze to his neck, and Jon tried not to wince. “Wouldn’t you agree,” Elias asked, voice patient at surface level. “That the best way to move forward is to restructure the Archive?”

Jon nodded, trying to recall the answer he had rehearsed. “Yes, ah—my team and I have worked quite hard at recording the statements a-and organizing them in a way that will last long-term.”

“Ah, what a delight,” Simon—Mr. Fairchild—said warmly. Jon was reminded of the voices adults would use when they spoke to him as a child, when his inane facts about space or etymology had moved from endearing to obnoxious.

The conversation lasted for what felt like days, Jon feeling rather like Mr. Fairchild’s cane: a statement piece, contributing nothing to the conversation but unable to find a smooth exit. Leading questions from Elias led to thankfully rehearsed answers before Simon found his own exit and walked away smoothly, eyes wide and taking the room in.

“I-I really should find Tim,” Jon muttered, glancing around the room anxiously.

“Nonsense. He’ll be back,” Elias said, releasing Jon’s shoulder and taking his elbow in turn, “I would like to introduce you to a few dear friends of mine. I believe Tim is keeping one occupied at present.” Jon sighed inwardly (and maybe outwardly as well) and allowed himself to be led around the room. His wine glass was empty, as was his plate and he found it snatched away by a member of catering. He had nothing to cling to, to keep his hands busy, and was struggling not to pull out his delicately-placed hair pin just so he could fiddle with something.

Jon was taken on a tour of old rich people of England. Names flew past him, conversation buzzed around him, and still Jon felt like nothing more than a well-dressed trophy to be ogled at. Did Gertrude do this every year, he wondered dimly. No wonder she disappeared. He fiddled with the ring on his finger, nodding and smiling at the appropriate times, speaking when needed, and feeling the swirl of the orchestra build up in pressure behind his eyes. The music was beautiful but hard to listen to. Something about it was ugly, hiding a dark secret behind the innocent melodies.

Eventually, the evening was so much of a blur that he couldn’t even begin to fathom how much time had passed. It may have been weeks, may have been merely twenty minutes. Jon glanced down for his watch before realizing he had taken it off at Tim’s flat and never strapped it back on. Pity. It only added to the dreamscape reality he seemed to be participating in.

At last, Elias led him towards the large burly man that was suddenly in view (hadn’t he always been? Jon wasn’t quite sure. The wine must have affected him more than he thought with the nerves) and Jon saw Tim, similarly trapped in conversation as he had been. He smiled apologetically as Jon and Elias approached and the larger man smiled warmly at the newcomers.

“Ah, Archivist. I hope you don’t mind I stole your companion away briefly. I was curious about the nitty-gritty of your Archive. Timothy here was very informative.” Tim winced at the use of his full name and a part of Jon smirked, relating to the sentiment of being called Jonathan or worse, John.

“I’m glad he can answer your questions.” Elias spoke before Jon could open his mouth. “I’m quite proud of the Archive staff. Jon chose well and I am sure the four of them are going to do great things together. Jon, you remember the Lukas family?”

Jon nodded, confused for a second before the man in front of him extended his hand. “Peter Lukas, at your service.” The hand was cold, and a feeling of dismay washed over Jon as he shook it. He couldn’t help the feeling that the shake of that hand was a seal of his fate.

The orchestral music had picked up, a swirl of strings and piano, ascending in pitch until it grated at Jon’s ears. No one else seemed to react to it, however, as the manic notes pulling at something inside Jon’s brain, something he couldn’t explain. It was almost like a migraine, but sharper and deep in his spine and in his ears. Elias let go of Jon’s arm at some point during the conversation with Peter Lukas, a discussion about boats, maybe? Travel? This was the conversation Elias was so keen on Jon being a part of?

As Jon felt that grip relax, the glint of the ring on Elias’ finger seeming to wink at him, Jon took a staggered step backwards. “Mr. Lukas, ah-Peter, it’s been a pleasure. Elias, ex-excuse me.”

Jon turned and dashed out of the library, feet carrying him on instinct through the winding halls and down the stairs of the institute, deep into the Archives. He stopped when he felt his feet echo against the cold, solid lino of the archival storage and bent over, hand on the wall, gasping in shallow, rapid bursts. It was too much, it was too much, he thought he could do this but it was too much and he wasn’t enough for them-

“Woah-boss.” Tim was there. When did Tim get here? Was he speaking out loud? Shit. “Jon, yeah-hey, Jon. I’m here. You’re okay. Take some deep breaths, okay? You’re going to black out if you’re not careful.”

Jon felt his suit jacket being shrugged off of him and the newly allowed freedom of his shoulder helped. He took a deep, sputtering breath, the sweet oxygen flooding his system and sharpening his thoughts.

“The-the music and the talking,” he said under his breath, Tim craning to listen without infringing on his personal space. “Too-too much.”

“The music? Jon, hey, hey, just focus on calming down, okay? That was a dick move of Elias to separate us immediately. I was talking to that Lukas guy for way too long. Not even sure what we talked about. I think he’s just one of those guys.” Jon smirked to himself as he focused on the floor beneath his feet, breathing slowly until his heart rate had resumed a normal rhythm.

“Says you,” he mumbled, eyes closing as he pressed his warm cheek to the cold wall.

“You bastard!” Jon felt a light swat on his shoulder. “I listen to people! I have meaningful conversation; just ask Martin and Sasha and Alexa from Library and Calvin from Artefact Storage. I am practically a professional listener.”

Jon smirked, satisfied with his jab and turned around, now pressing his back to the wall. “God, Tim, I do not want to go back in there.” It was hard to admit out loud, even if the evidence was written all over his face.

“Okay. So, we won’t.”

“What?” the answer was so mind-bogglingly simple, Jon reeled.

“We don’t want to be here. We’ve talked, we’ve eaten. Let’s just leave. I can tell Elias I had an emergency and you had to escort me home, like a true gentleman.”

“Lie to Elias? I feel like that cant end well.” The offer was tempting, Jon hadf to admit.

“I mean, Sasha has keys to my flat. I could ask her to start a fire, if you think that’s sufficient?”

Jon barked out a laugh at that. “Ah, no, lets save a fire for something big. Yes. Let’s-let’s go, Tim. And-er, I suppose I should thank you. For coming tonight. I know its not an ideal way to spend an evening.”

“Are you kidding?” Tim did a twirl, Jon’s own jacket slung over his shoulder. “I look hot. You think I’d pass up an opportunity to dress up like this? You’re dreaming.” He smirked and took Jon’s arm, leading him back up the stairwell. It felt different than Elias’s touch. That had been a cold tug, directional and leashed. This felt…snug, more like a link in a chain than anything else. Comforting, reassuring.

(Luckily, they weren’t laughed out of the Nando’s they popped into late at night. Lemon and herb and spices covered their hands, but they were careful to keep their jackets clean. Jon, when looking back on the evening; remembers this moment, talking and laughing and letting the fresh night air was over them. Elias, Lukas, and Fairchild be damned. He’d deal with that tomorrow.)

[isaidyoulookshitty]

this is stupid and has nothing to do with anything but i think i’m going to be fucked up and have weird emotions about weddings for the rest of my idiot fucking life. i’m trying to watch that dumb love is blind show BECAUSE it’s dumb and idk i’m just filled with bitterness and anger at everyone on it. these people signed up to do this shit where they knowingly enter relationships destined to fail, spend a few weeks being absolutely awful to each other, and then they have a wedding. weddings planned and and paid for by “professionals” with expensive dresses and tuxes and long guest lists, in expensive beautiful venues, with dramatic ceremonies that are intended to be followed by catered receptions. they get all of this shit with everyone involved knowing these people can invite their whole fucking families, walk down the aisle, say their vows, and then they just have the option, and are even EXPECTED, to just say “no” at the altar. all of that for nothing. it’s just thrown away.

i didn’t get to have my wedding!!!!! my husband and i were together for 7 years before we got engaged lol. we were so excited to celebrate what was the supposed to be the happiest day of our fucking lives with all of our friends and family. we spent money on it!! we spent hours together trying to plan it!!! and we had to cancel it all two months out because of a deadly virus that is still killing thousands of people a day in this country. i didn’t want people i loved getting sick at my wedding. i didn’t want to look at photographs of it years later and see people in masks. i didn’t want to attend a funeral two weeks later. i tried to do the right thing. people close to me made me feel guilty over it. every single time i see my narcissistic mother she brings it up and goes on and on about how she “didn’t get to have my wedding either.” i have a wedding dress in my closet that i will NEVER wear. i can’t even bring myself to look at it when i put away my laundry. my husband and i got married alone on a friend’s back porch while he signed the marriage certificate we got from a courthouse we were only allowed to enter after an armed police officer took our temperatures. my wedding anniversary is supposed to be a day where my husband and i celebrate the day we decided we’d be together for the rest of our lives, and i spent our first one crying. our second one is coming up in just a few months and i’ll probably be doing the same thing!!!! we keep saying we’ll have a reception some day but it’s been two years and covid is still this bad and i’m too depressed to even think about it. i fucking can’t because it hurts too much.

and idk just watching these people who were cast in this stupid shitty reality tv show based on their looks and their instagram followings be handed something that i had to give up, just for the spectacle of it all, just so that people can watch them say no and get left at the altar. and yeah, some of them do get married, and then they have to report on their relationship so that people will believe it’s “real” but i don’t know them and i don’t care about them. i hate it. i hate everyone involved in making this show. i hope they’re all miserable.

[sarahlevys]

SO YOU WANT TO GET INTO TWYLEXIS

(a fic rec post - last updated 10/31/2021)

11/25/20: I have been talking to a lot of people about The Good Ship Twylexis, and when @earnmysong asked me for some fic recs, I could not resist! Below are some of my favorites, organized by length. This is not intended to be an exhaustive list, and is simply composed of some of the ones I’ve read. I hope you check them out!

10/31/21: Nearly a year later, the fandom has grown by leaps and bounds! I've been able to add many excellent Twylexis fics to the below list. I tried to keep these recs focused on fics in which they are either the only ship or a substantial part of the narrative, so while there are many fics nowadays that have Twylexis as a side pairing, those will not be listed below. Now that we can be more choosy, I've also removed fics that featured Twylexis as part of a throuple or moreple (so that I can hopefully do a fic rec list for that specifically in the future!)

So I see Alexis is getting back out there. (Short Reads)

in the middle of the deep blue night – T – 577 – by @hullomoon

Alexis is all alone at the party, that is, until Twyla joins her.

in the hack – G – 2K – by thingswithwings

After Ted, and before the Next Thing, Alexis joins a curling team. She's great at it, because, what, like it's hard?

Icarus had the right idea – T – 4K – by Luthor

In which Alexis convinces Twyla to take her to the beach, and has an okay-time I guess. 

never saw you coming, never be the same – G – Podfics! 15 minutes in total – by DelilahMcMuffin, GoLBPodfics, & Amanita_Fierce

Three different perspectives from Twyla Sands and Alexis Rose's first Pride spent together as a couple.

to be your harbor – E – 4K – by @doublel27

Twyla uses some of her money on things that are special to her. Alexis is special to Twyla. Luckily, Twyla is precious to Alexis.

and it's just around the corner darling, 'cause it in lives in me (no, I could never give you peace) – T – 3K – by beepbedeep

She’s what people call the worst, most pointless kind of celebrity, a socialite, and she does it better than anyone else. It’s good, she knows it’s good, she’s serving her purpose, playing her part perfectly, and if she doesn’t really know how to be alone with herself, how to handle the actual weight of her life when the gossip blogs get bored and the photographers stop showing up for a while, that’s fine.

i knew from the beginning (it was you from the beginning) – T – 1K – by @anniemurphys

Twyla and Alexis celebrate, at a distance.

i took an arrow to the heart – G – 3K – by @sarahlevys and @landofsonlali

Twyla calls Alexis in celebration of the fourth anniversary of their friendship, and the conversation shifts to their feelings for each other. Together, they start to explore the intricacies of love and relationships.

aflame – T – 4K – by @pretendtofly

Alexis has a few days left in Schitt's Creek after the wedding and Twyla wants to spend them all together.

could be your baby, ride the same whip (oh no, no, there's no slowin' down) – T – 3K – by @turningtimeinthetardis

Alexis doubts anything too surprising will happen when she and Twyla decide to go on a little shopping spree (such as they can afford, that is) at one of Elmdale’s boutiques. Maybe they’ll encounter some truly hideous blends of patterns, but nothing stranger than that.

After all, if there’s one thing Schitt’s Creek and the surrounding suburbs can offer, it’s quiet predictability.

I weigh a hundredandfuckingsomething pounds (that makes me almost good) – G – 2K – by beepbedeep

Her legs don’t look good, but half of the girls she knows have legs that look even worse, smiles that are even more shark-toothed or arms that are even less toned, and she reminds herself that these are just the rules', that she knows the rules and knows where she’s failing, but other people are failing more.

shining, shimmering, splendid – G – 1K – by @davidbrewer

Twyla finally starts spending some of her lottery winnings on things that make her smile, and learns how much she loves to travel. Who better to show her around the world than Alexis?

ask 'em my questions and get some answers – G – 1K – by @lilythesilly

Alexis and Twyla meet at Disneyland.

a handprint on my heart – T – 4K – by averita

Five times Alexis and Twyla visit each other.

Merry Go Round – T – 2K – by Perkalil

In her first days in town, Alexis is in a rough place; she finds kindness and compassion in the local cafe waitress.

feel you on my skin – E – 1K – by @hullomoon

Alexis notices what Twyla's wearing. She has a lot of feelings about it.

you make everything good – G – by @rosedavid

Twyla has to go and visit her gaggle of cousins for two weeks, and Alexis is pouty about her girlfriend leaving for so long.

didn't ask for this – you freely gave it (so now i watch your mouth for the both of us) – T – 6K – by @turningtimeinthetardis

Alexis chops her name down to three letters like it's nothing.

Twyla thinks about it a lot.

putting roots in my dreamland – G – 4K – by @lilythesilly

A twylexis flowershop au.

(but if baby, i'm the bottom) you're the top – E – 3K – by @sarahlevys

Five times Twyla tops Alexis, and one time she lets Alexis top her.

three o'clock – E – 2K – by @schittyfic

Two tipsy girlfriends thirst over the hot, bearded guy across the bar.

shivers – E – 5K – by @anniemurphys

Alexis has a long day in an airport, and Twyla wants to take care of her.

This Stupid, Wonderful, Boring, Amazing Job – G – 1K – by @lilythesilly

A cute lil 'The Office' AU.

in calm or stormy weather – T – 4K – by @anniemurphys and @landofsonlali

On National Siblings Day, Alexis spends the day with her favorite brother Patrick, and David bonds with Twyla.

all i need is to see your face – G – 1K – by @wild-aloof-rebel

Alexis has doubts. Twyla knows how to soothe them.

got a fistful of four leaf clovers – T – 1K – by iphigenias

Two weeks before Christmas Alexis calls David.

“So I think I like someone,” she says.

all i want is you – T – 1K – by @landofsonlali

alexis is too restless to cuddle and worries about being a good partner to twyla who loves cuddling. twyla reassures her.

Fifty Shades of Gruyere – E – 2K – by @schittposting

Alexis and Twyla eat cheese and fuck.

I dreamt about you last night – G – 930 – by sonichallows

Alexis has a romantic dream about Twyla and tells her about it the next day.

Mistletoe – T – 2K – by in48frames

Alexis and Twyla go ice skating.

--

Twy, what are you doing here? You could be anywhere, doing anything. (Medium Reads)

Twyla's Cafe Podcast, An Alexis Rose Production, Produced by Alexis Rose (with help from Twyla) – T – 6K – by @whetherwoman

Twyla and Alexis start a podcast, and accidentally have some feelings along the way.

Crystal Clear – G – 6K – by @imalittlebitgogirl

Twyla and Alexis meet at a Winter Solstice celebration and bond over being newcomers...with more connections than they first realize.

take me out (and take me home) – M – 7K – by @anniemurphys and @landofsonlali

When Twyla’s Thanksgiving plans fall through at the last minute, Alexis flies back to Schitt’s Creek.

know that i’m yours (to keep) – T – 8K – by @anniemurphys

Five times Alexis and Twyla talk at Café Tropical.

And one time they talk somewhere else.

I Offer You My Heart – G – 10K – by @landofsonlali​, with art and podfic by @sunlightsymphony

Twyla is the owner of a coffee shop in Schitt's Creek and Alexis is a frequent customer, featuring pining, flirtation, and a whole lot of beverages and baked goods.

Oh Please, Not Now – T – by in48frames

“Oh,” Twyla says. “Yeah. Schitt’s Creek is super haunted."

Ladies Night Inn – T – 15K – by @imalittlebitgogirl

What if Twyla had accepted Alexis' invitation to a ladies night in her motel room after she and Mutt broke up?

i'm your moonlight, you're my star – M – 14K – by @sarahlevys and @anniemurphys

Twyla and Alexis spend the holidays together.

and the stars look very different today – T – 12K – by @hullomoon, with art from @hagface

Teaming up with a group of talented women, Alexis plans her next job

Hide Your Diamonds, Hide Your Exes – T – 8K – by @middyblue

Alexis may or may not be a diamond thief. Twyla is the FBI agent tasked with finding her.

heaven is a place not too far away – T – 8K – by @sarahlevys

Alexis' soulmate mark – the ability to sing – triggers when she moves to Schitt's Creek.

Pretty Follies – T – 9K – by @treepyful

Alexis and Twyla team up to play matchmaker for Stevie and Ruth.

Unfortunately, the course of true love never did run smooth.

Everything That We'd Ever Need – E – 12K – by @middyblue

5 times Twyla went skinny-dipping and 1 time she wore a dress.

Rollin' With the Homies – T – 9K – by @sarahlevys

The Clueless AU.

Phasers Set to Stunning – T – 9K so far (WIP – 2/4 chapters published) – by @kindofspecificstore

Patrick wins passes to San Diego Comic Con, and takes his best friend Twyla with him. Alexis Rose, rising star of Galactic Sunrise Bay, is attending for the first time and has her eyes on a super cute cosplayer.

--

I was thinking we could have a little ladies' night at my place. (Long Reads)

you and i and nobody else - E – 124K so far (WIP – 7/10 chapters published) – by @sarahlevys​ and @anniemurphys​

Twyla Sands and Alexis Rose meet on Mutt’s season of The Bachelor.

Maybe If You Stayed – E – 14K – by @fraudulentzodiac

“Years down the line, this is the moment she will look back on as the moment she should have known she was in love.“

your body’s poetry (speak to me) – E – 19K – by @anniemurphys

Ballet AU.

I’ve Only Ever Wanted Fire – M – 26K – by @sarahlevys​, with art from @rhetoricalk

Written for the prompt: Twyla is a real estate agent specializing in properties that are haunted or possessed. Alexis is looking for a new apartment.

Silence Lay Steadily – E – 44K – by @davidbrewer

A ghost story loosely inspired by The Haunting of Hill House.

like glass from sandy ground – M – 18K – by @middyblue

Five times Alexis ran from grief, and one time she didn't.

Taste of a Poison Paradise – M – 15K – by @lilythesilly

Be gay do crimes but make it a Harley Quinn AU.

Half of My Soul, as the Poets Say – E – 20K – by mixtapesandsunsets

Yes, she imagines telling the Alexis of two years ago, who had felt so untethered sitting next to Twyla outside these very rooms. You believe in fate. Your fate is right in front of you, Lex, you just need to reach out to meet it. It’s her. It has always been her.

[teacupfulofstarshine]

pattonella part 13: kingdom alert: the princes are fiiiiiiiightiiiiiiiing!

cw: mentions of injury/infection/illness, mentions of death, arguing, overworking, parental figures who are not the best 

wordcount: ~3.3k

part 1 // part 2 // part 3 // part 4 // part 5 // part 6 // part 7 // part 8 // part 9 // part 10 // part 11 // part 12 // read it on ao3!! 

virgil stays in the infirmary for almost a week after he first wakes up. 

he spends a lot of his time sleeping, since he’s too weak to do anything else. for the first few days of wakefulness, he barely has the strength to squeeze logan’s and patton’s hands when they hold them. despite his barely-open eyes, he smiles every time he sees them. 

“i’m sorry,” he says once, voice raspy and hoarse. patton tilts his head in confusion.

“why are you apologizing?”

“for scaring you. i came home unconscious . . . on logan’s horse . . . and you didn’t know . . . what was happening . . . i’m sorry . . .” his chest heaves slightly with effort, and patton leans in to brush his hair out of his eyes. 

“it’s not your fault. you saved roman’s life, vee, you saved everyone. you all came home alive, and that’s all i can ask for.” virgil smiles at him, eyes half-open, and yawns. “are you tired, vee?” 

“‘m always tired lately.” 

“that’s normal,” emile says, carrying over a large teapot. “you expended an enormous amount of magic when you were fighting. your body is trying to recover that energy; that’s why you’re sleeping so much. this tea helps you recover your energy as well, so keep drinking.” 

virgil makes a face at the cup of tea emile has in his hands, but he still lets patton help him sit up. he takes the tea and sips at it gently, blowing off the cloud of steam. emile dips a washcloth into a pail of cool water, wrings it out, and drapes it across virgil’s forehead, removing the old cloth that has grown warm. 

“is logan going to visit today?” virgil asks. 

“prince logan said he would stop by after attending to his duties at court,” emile says. “remy will be back in a little while, he’s attending to the king.” a somber tone falls over the infirmary at the mention of the king. 

“what . . . exactly is wrong with the king?” patton asks. “we know that he’s sick, of course, but - but we have no idea what’s actually wrong with him. do you know? are - are you allowed to tell us?” 

emile exhales, nodding slowly. “the king was injured in battle. he hid it because -”

“he’s a self-righteous idiot and a coward,” remy mutters, shoving the infirmary door shut behind him. emile’s face brightens when he sees his husband, dimming when he sees how pale and drawn remy looks. “he didn’t want to worry people, so instead of letting me treat his injury and having a recovery time of maybe two weeks, he hid it until it got infected and then he hid the infection until he collapsed and now it’s so far gone that there’s nothing i can do to heal him. it’s killing him from the inside out.” 

“the king will die?” patton asks. 

“we all die eventually,” remy says, “but it’s true that the king is ailing more swiftly than most. i’d say he has . . . three years left to live, at most.” emile reaches up and gently kisses remy’s cheek, pressing his face into his shoulder. 

“there’s a reason the rush is on to get thomas officially named crown prince,” emile says. “if he does not bear the official title when the king passes on, there will be a power struggle.” 

“why? thomas is the eldest prince. roman and logan would never stand in his way of becoming king, would they?” 

“no, but without an official heir appointed, it is possible that anyone with a connection to the royal bloodline, however small, could present themself as heir apparent. it would take months, perhaps even years to sort through the muck and mire of all that inherently political bullshit, which would derail the peace and prosperity of this kingdom. it is imperative that thomas is officially named the crown prince before the king dies.” 

“do we have to be married for thomas to be named crown prince?” patton asks. “is an engagement enough to satisfy the law?” 

“unfortunately, no. engagements can be made and broken at the drop of a hat, but a marriage is not so easily annulled. the wedding ceremony must be completed before thomas can be named crown prince.” 

“i think that’s a stupid rule,” patton mutters. virgil laughs softly, and patton squeezes his hand. 

“the most likely scenario at this point is a triple function.”

“a what?” 

“logan and roman will have a double wedding to the two of you, and then once the wedding ceremony is completed, thomas will immediately be officially named crown prince. that way, no matter what happens, the kingdom will be secured.”

“and then we party?” patton asks. remy laughs. 

“yeah, babes. and then we party.” 

*~*~*~*~*

“everything alright?” 

logan jumps three feet into the air at the sudden noise, whirling around to see roman behind him, hand raised as though he was about to lower it onto his shoulder. “take a deep breath, lo, it’s just me.” logan presses a hand to his chest, exhaling sharply. 

“you startled me, roman. please do not do that.” roman rolls his eyes, bumping his shoulder against logan’s as he steps towards the window logan’s been pensively staring out of. “can i be of assistance?” 

“do you know any good smiths?” 

logan hums, clasping his hands behind his back. “you spend far more time consorting with the villagers than i, roman. if anyone were to possess such information, it would be you.”

“yeah, but you spend all your time with the tax records and shit, i figured you’d know.” 

logan frowns. “what is all this about, roman?” 

roman looks at him, and logan realizes he’s been crying. “roman -”

“i went to see father.” 

logan wants to swear. “roman, i thought we agreed to go together if we went -”

“we did! but i saw remy going to treat him, so i followed him, and when the door opened he saw me and he beckoned me inside and what was i gonna do, say no to the king?” 

“what did he say to you?” 

“he asked me if i was married yet.” 

“and you told him?” 

“no, but i have a partner.” 

“what did he say?” 

“‘that’s not good enough, roman,’” roman grouses, dropping his voice into a gruff imitation of their father’s. “'you of all people should understand how imperative it is that there is no issue with succession. thomas must be named my heir and become crown prince before i shuffle off this mortal coil -’”

“don’t talk about father’s death like that,” logan snaps. 

“and how else should i talk about it, logan? father has been dying for years. and he’s making me rush my relationship with patton just so that thomas can get the official version of a title we all know he has!” 

“father does not want to die without officially naming an heir. i understand that.”

“you really think someone’s going to be stupid enough to challenge thomas’s birthright?” 

“it will not hurt to be prepared. you are responding irrationally.” 

“right, because you’ve never done anything irrational in your life, logan, like riding into battle with no backup and no plan because your stupid magic boyfriend thinks i can’t take care of myself! what does he know, anyway? he doesn’t know anything about me or us or -” 

“virgil saved your life,” logan says, voice low and thunderous. he takes a step forward, then another, and roman takes a step backward, then another. “if it wasn’t for his vision, you would have died . many more people would have been injured or killed if he had not come when he did. or did you forget the fact that he fell into a coma because he expended so much magic saving you? healing you? keeping you alive?” roman flinches away from his anger, and logan can’t bring himself to care.

“logan, i -”

“this conversation is over,” logan says, voice icy and cold. “i will see you at dinner, prince roman. send a servant if you have need of me.” he turns around and stalks down the hallway, footsteps sharp and precise against the stone floor. he hears roman throw a punch at something behind him, but he doesn’t call out, and logan doesn’t turn around. 

*~*~*~*~*

“lord san - patton?” 

patton looks up from the basket of yarn he’s picking through to see nate standing in the doorway, fidgeting with the hem of his tunic. “nate! come in!” 

“you have a visitor,” nate says. he sounds oddly formal, and patton tilts his head in confusion. “sir claire, knight of the kingdom, second in command to his royal highness prince roman, requests an audience.”

“oh! um . . . send her in, sure!” patton remembers her riding just behind logan and roman when they’d returned from battle, but he’s never actually spoken to her. 

nate steps into the hallway and murmurs something, and then claire steps in. she’s not wearing full armor, but there’s leather wrapped around her forearms and legs, and her hair is tied up in a knot atop her head. she’s panting slightly, face shining with sweat, as though she’s just come from the training grounds. 

“lord sanders,” she says, bowing to him. patton stands up, not sure if he’s supposed to curtsy back at her or not, but as he’s gathering the material of his dress claire continues speaking. “i would request something of you, lord sanders.” 

“um . . . okay! is it something you need from roman?” 

“it actually concerns his highness prince roman.” 

“is he hurt? is he alright?” 

claire shakes her head. “i believe he had an . . . altercation with his highness prince logan earlier. prince roman came to the training grounds two hours ago, and he has been putting any guard he can through rigorous dueling. he’s finally exhausted his supply of human opponents, and he has been hacking away at training dummies for the past thirty minutes. his hands shake with exhaustion, but nothing i do or say convinces him to stop and rest. i worry he may pass out from heat or over exertion or -” 

patton wrings his hands nervously, and claire takes a deep breath. “i do not mean to alarm you, lord sanders. i merely thought perhaps, as you are beloved of prince roman, you might accompany me to the training grounds and convince him to rest, if only briefly?” 

“of course,” patton says. “nate, go to the kitchens, get some cold water, as much as you can carry, and some sort of snack. cheese, maybe? and nuts? something to get roman’s strength up. meet me on the training grounds.” 

“at once, lord sanders,” nate says, bowing his head respectfully to patton and claire before sprinting out into the hall. patton slips his shoes on and follows claire out to the training ground. 

“how long have you and roman known each other?” 

“the prince and i entered knighthood training at the same time. were he not the prince, i suspect i may have been picked for captain of the guard, but i am not stupid. i know the ways of the kingdom. the third prince, should there be one, becomes captain of the guard, leader of the knights. prince roman has the skills to back the position up, at least. he is the only person who has ever bested me in combat.”

“it sounds like you really like him.”

“i admire and respect him greatly. it pains me to see him like this.”

“i’ll get him to calm down,” patton says. “what was he fighting with logan about?” 

“it is unclear to me, lord sanders, but it distressed him.” 

“you can just call me patton, if you want!”

“that is very kind of you, lord - patton.”

the stone walls of the castle keep it cool, even in the warmth of summer, so patton had chosen a dress with a long skirt made of lighter fabric. the minute he steps foot outside, he can feel himself starting to sweat. claire, wearing training clothes and leather guards, doesn’t seem bothered at all, so patton pretends that he isn’t, either. 

he can hear sounds of exertion before they even reach the arena. patton gathers the fabric of his skirt up into his hands so that it doesn’t drag along the dusty ground as claire opens the gates to the training arena for him. roman is surrounded by a series of training dummies, stuffed with straw and carrying crude replica weapons. roman is shouting and grunting as he throws himself at the training dummies. 

“his strokes are sloppy,” claire says. patton doesn’t know anything about fighting, but he sort of sees what she means. he’s watched roman train before; he usually keeps all his limbs close to his body, watching with narrowed eyes and striking with quick, precise movements in rapid succession. this looks like a hurricane given human form. roman’s limbs flail wildly, his chest is heaving, and his hair is matted with sweat. 

patton hurries across the arena floor. “roman!” 

roman whirls around, holding his sword out, but his arms are shaking and the tip of the blade drops down into the dust. “patton?” he pants. 

“ro, sweetheart, how long have you been out here?” 

“not - not long, i don’t . . .” roman drives the tip of his sword into the arena floor and leans on it heavily. patton lets his skirts fall down around his ankles again as he reaches out to take roman’s arm and help support him. 

“come sit with me, ro, okay? come on. come sit down.” roman doesn’t protest, quietly staggering over to the wooden benches lining the arena. patton moves slowly to allow roman to shuffle along at his side, carefully helping roman sit down. “claire said you’ve been here for hours, ro.” 

roman sighs. “so she sent you to come reign me in?” 

“she sent me out here to ask you to take a break. she’s worried about you. so am i.” 

“i’m just training. that’s my job, patton.”

“you’re destroying yourself,” patton says firmly. “what happened?” 

roman stares off at the horizon. patton doesn’t pressure him to talk, gently leaning his head against his shoulder. after about ten minutes of sitting in silence, roman finally says, “lo and i got in a fight.” 

“a fight?” 

“i went to see father today. we had an agreement with the two of us and thomas that we wouldn’t go see him on our own. he can be a bit . . . intense. and lo and i got into an argument, and . . . he used my full title. he never uses that unless he’s super pissed off. and like, i’m pissed at him too! he was being an asshole! but . . . so was i, i guess . . .”

nate approaches, setting down a pitcher of water, two cups, and a basket of bread and cheese and nuts. roman shoves a hunk of cheese in his mouth as patton pours them both water and nods his thanks to nate. roman downs a glass and a half of water before staring off again, eyes unfocused. 

patton hums, reaching out to set his hand on roman’s knee. “do you wanna talk about it?” 

roman hesitates for a moment, swirling the water in his cup around, and then he does. 

*~*~*~*~*

“are you going to tell me what you’re brooding about?” 

“i do not brood,” logan grouses. 

“are you going to tell me why you’re pouting, then?” 

“i do not pout either.” logan pouts at virgil, who bites his lower lip to keep from laughing. logan continues to pout as he gently picks up a clay teapot and pours virgil another cup of the magic-replenishing tea. virgil wraps his hands around logan’s as he takes the cup, and logan’s face smoothes into a small smile.  

“i . . . had a disagreement with roman, earlier.” 

“i don’t like the way you’re saying disagreement.” 

“he saw our father.” virgil, sitting up to sip at his tea, pauses as logan’s hands ball into fists. 

“how is he?” 

“our father? the same as always. asking about if we’re married yet so he can name thomas crown prince and die already.” virgil winces, and logan sighs. “forgive me, my love. our father . . . he is constantly rushing our lives. he would have had us wed to anyone, regardless of feelings, so that thomas could have his position as crown prince secured. thomas fought for us to have a chance at happiness, hence the ball for roman’s birthday. our father gave in, but he is . . . irritated that we have not yet wed.” 

“would it make things easier if we got married?” virgil says. logan reaches out and takes one of his hands. 

“i am not going to rush you or have roman rush patton because of our father’s succession issues. you are more than a political bargaining chip to me, virgil. you are . . .” logan’s cheeks and ears flush pink, and virgil can’t hide the besotted smile on his face as he watches logan’s gaze fix on a specific point over his shoulder. “you are invaluable to me. you are incredibly precious. i will not have you feeling like a pawn to be manipulated when you are - you are so much more than that to me.” virgil’s gaze slides to the black chess queen, propped neatly on the nightstand where he can see it.

“you’re important to me, too, l.” 

“roman was insinuating that we were irrational for running into battle to save him. he was implying that you are - are stupid or something, that you don’t know things, when without you he would be dead and we would have suffered innumerable casualties! that fool, what was he thinking , he -” 

“you were worried about him,” virgil says. 

“roman is capable. he does not require worrying about, so he likes to say.” logan scoffs.

“you’re his big brother, lo. you were going to worry no matter what happened. i worry about patton no matter what, and i bet thomas worries about you and roman no matter what. that’s just what brothers do.” 

logan pulls his hands into his lap, fidgeting with his fingers. “i . . . suppose i should apologize to him.” 

“hey, if he was being a jackass, he should apologize to you, too.” logan leans in and gently presses a kiss to virgil’s cheek. virgil makes a very undignified squeaking noise that he will deny vehemently to anyone else. 

*~*~*~*~*

“logan?” 

“roman.” 

“i . . . uh . . . ‘m sorry. i didn’t, uh . . . mean to insult virgil, or . . . or imply that he’s stupid. i know his magic takes a lot out of him, and i know he . . . he really used a lot when you guys came to save us. i just . . . i don’t like feeling like the stupid kid brother you all have to chase after, you know?” 

“i find that i owe you an apology as well, roman. i was, perhaps, unnecessarily harsh on you when last we spoke. i felt that someone had to defend virgil’s . . . honor is not quite the right word, but it is the closest i have.” 

“i can take care of myself, you know.” 

“i know, roman. but when virgil burst into the throne room and told us that he had seen you being slain . . . after the truth of his prediction with my horse incident, thomas and i were understandably distraught. we always fear the worst when you ride out into battle, and virgil seemed to be implying that those worst fears would be realized.” 

“i get that. and i . . . i am grateful, for what he did. for what you did.” 

“i know.” 

“father just . . . rattled me.” 

“i confess that i am irked as well. he has been ill for years, and remy is confident that he is not on death’s doorstep despite his illness. there is no reason for him to be so insistent on this marriage. patton and virgil are more than just marriage partners.” 

“i love him, lo. i - even if i didn’t have to, i would want to marry him.” 

“i share the sentiment.” 

“. . . i do love you, lo. even if you’re an annoying big brother sometimes.” 

“and i love you as well, despite your constant annoying younger brother status.” 

“hey!” 

(patton, hiding in the hallway, giggles and scurries off to the hospital wing.)

[cowperviolet]

A GUIDE TO MEDIEVAL TOURNAMENTS

Do you have a dynastic wedding to celebrate? A diplomatic visit to spice up? An axe to grind with a neighbour whose pageantry is eclipsing yours? Organize a tournament. It’s always the answer. A tournament of the greatest knights of the realm cannot go wrong.

Of course, it’s also a great and complex undertaking; but, thankfully, this step-by-step handbook should guide you through the process with only minimal pain and no injury

Obtain permission.

In England in France at least, organizing tourneys had become mostly a royal and ducal prerogative after 1340 – if you are not lucky enough to belong to one of those miniscule categories of the population, you would have to seek a special license. Obtaining it shouldn’t be a problem… unless, of course, there is a war on. In that case, you’d better check the latest royal proclamations – it’s more than possible that one of them contains a temporary ban on all tournaments while men of fighting age might have to risk their lives and limbs against an actual enemy. If this is true, it would be prudent of you to postpone your plans for a few months (or years, depending on how the war is going) – you wouldn’t want to content yourself with the kind of furtive affair that was the Le Hem tournament of 1278. It was hastily staged in direct violation of Louis IX ’s prohibition of tournaments because of the ongoing war, and as a result had to even dispense with the mêlée on the third day.

(If you think the prohibition overbearing and unfair, plenty of people would agree with you – and not just the kind of people who can afford swords and horses. The poet Sarrasin criticized the king in his Le Roman du Hem for bankrupting the heralds, armourers, saddlers and provisioners of France with his tournament ban).

2. Consider the time and place.

Most tourneys run from Monday to Sunday, with Friday being the rest day. You would need a spacious marketplace to divide into lists, too.

A lot depends on what kind of tournament you want to host. A general mêlée whose absence so disappointed the spectators in Le Hem would need more space than a contained joust; on the other hand, mêlée combat has been steadily losing its popularity as of late in favour of one-on-one jousts.

Of course, some people grumble that the old days when horsemen smashing into enemy in massed formations were the fixture of any tournament where the days when men were still men. But we are modern, fifteenth-century people, and we understand the importance of ensuring safety both for the participants and the spectators – hence the barriers down the centre of each list to prevent the knights from actually colliding with each other, and fenced enclosures to keep the audience strictly away from the danger. Which brings us to…

3. Decide on the rules.

The traditional rules of joust are the following: the knights are divided into two teams, those ‘within’ and those ‘without’ – or, in other words, the ‘defenders’ and the ‘attackers’. The space is, in turn, divided into three lists, each separated from the other by high barriers. The courses – the charges by two opposing knights – are going to be run down each, towards the spectacular splintering of lances. Each day, a prize, usually in the form of a small jewel or a golden chain, should be given to the best-performing knight and squire from each team.

You can, however, add or tweak a few details in order to make the sport safer for the participants – or more exhilarating for the audience. For example, you could take a page out of Maximillian I’s book and provide the knights with special spring-loaded shields that would flow apart if struck in the right place. You could also follow King Edward of England’s example and model your tournament after the béhourd he sponsored in Windsor in 1278: he specified, among other things, that the participants would have to wear cuir bouilli – a type of leather boiled until it was almost as hard as metal – and use wooden shields and whalebone swords.

If you scoff at the lightweight kind of tourneys popular these days, and especially if you care little for pageantry, then a different kind of joust might be more up your alley. The so-called passage of arms, or pas d’armes, is an undertaking to defend a certain place (usually a bridge or a gate) from all comers. It was inspired by various episodes from Arthurian romances, such as the Romance of Yvain by Chrétien de Troyes. In fiction, the knights undertook the defend a bridge, a gate, or a ford in single combat, and, if they were defeated, the winner took their place. Naturally, a real passage of arms plays out somewhat differently – for one thing, the defense only lasts a specified period of time (rarely longer than two weeks), and one defeat in a particular joust does not mean surrender. The most famous example of any knights attempting this kind of endeavor is probably the pas d’armes that Suero de Quinones organized at the Orbigo Bridge in northern Spain for two weeks until the St. James’ Day of 1434. They claimed a plan of breaking 300 lances in total – if they failed, the organizers promised, they would remain there for a further fortnight. They fulfilled that promise, and ended up withdrawing only on the 9th of August – but even with that extra time, they’ve only managed to break 178 lances in total. It’s no mean result, of course – plenty of minor conventional tourneys end in mighty disappointment for the spectators with not a single lance ending up broken at all.

It must be said that, although a passage of arms is a grandiose undertaking, jousting proper usually only takes a couple of hours a day there – in other words, the spectators are likely to be disappointed anyway. Your fellow knights, however, are going to be delighted by the concept – if, of course, they are true connoisseurs of tourneys just like you.

4. Think of the logistics.

The matter might begin with the rules of fighting itself, but it doesn’t end there. If you are in a position to organize a tournament out of your own purse in the first place, you must be the master of the lands where it’s going to be held, so make sure your subjects don’t suffer as a result of the soaring prices that usually accompany such events, not to mention the influx of professional warriors. Fix the prices firmly for the duration of the tournament, especially the prices on bread, fish, and meat; stipulate that no spectators or unarmed persons are to mix with the participants; make sure each gate of the city is manned by about twelve armed men, and station at least five hundred guards around the setting of the tournament itself.

5. Send out invitations.

Sending letters of invite seems to be the most logical course – however, it is also the most excruciating one, given the number of noblemen of fighting age who would be eligible for participation. In your situation, it would be better to contact the organizer of the tourney closest to yours and ask him to have your upcoming event announced there.

You would also do well to contact the tournament societies in your region – if you live in Germany, it’s going to be particularly easy: the whole concept, after all, originated in Bavaria. Tournament societies are essentially permanent tournament teams from different regions. Instead of laboriously summoning individual knights, one could simply issue a challenge from one society to another. Moreover, some societies’ rules even specify that the members have to meet annually at a tournament -it might as well be yours!

6. Think of the theme.

Of course, you don’t have to have a theme – you might want your tournament to simply be a bit of rough, honest fun it used to be in William Marshall’s days. We don’t live in William Marshall’s days anymore, though, and I suspect you wouldn’t want to be outdone by your neighbours.

The most go-to theme are Arthurian legends. It’s the kind of oldie-but-goldie you cannot go wrong with. The fashion was arguably started by Edward I of England, who set out a round table and acted out a number of Arthurian romances with the other noblemen at the feast after the tournament in honour of his daughter’s wedding. That was a far cry from the spectacular Arthurian festival arranged across the Channel by the lords Longueval and Bazentin in Picardy: they had the tournament presided over by ‘Queen Guinevere’, and stipulated that all the attendant knights had to bring a damsel with them. Another member of the theatricals was named as Chevalier au Lyon, who supposedly ‘rescued’ the ladies in ‘Guinevere’s retinue, and even had a real lion with him.

If this is all a bit too out there for you (or, the other way around, too pedestrian – everyone does the Round Table these days!), you could organize the pageantry of the tournament around your heroic ancestor or your sigil – possibly both. For example, the joust that Adolf of Cleves staged in Lille had been inspired by the story of the Cleves’ progenitor, a knight who was miraculously led along the Rhine by a swan and ended up marrying the local princess. During the joust, the ‘Knight of the Swan’ was to take on all challengers.

The procession, to quote the words of a contemporary, included

‘…drummers; and after them a pursuivant of arms dressed in a coat of arms full of swans; after him came a large swan, marvellously and skilfully made, with a crown of gold around its neck, from which hung a shield of the full arms of Cleves; and from this crown hung a golden chain on which, from one end, there hung the shield of the knight; and this swan was flanked by two very well made centaurs who had bows and arrows in their hands, and made as though to shoot at anyone who tried to approach the swan’.

7. Plan the banquet.

Nothing can sour the impression of a great tourney as a meagre banquet afterwards. The need for a generous display of food is self-explanatory – roebucks, suckling pigs, silvered eels, gilded bread, almond soup, kid goats, and the like – however, this is sadly not enough. You also have to think about the entremets.

What are the entremets? To put it simply, everything that is a part of the banquet, but is not edible. I’m not simply talking about straightforward entertainments like music, theatre pieces, or juggling. Entremets can also be elaborate installations for your guests to admire, such as a mini-carrack, exquisitely executed up to the last rope and laden with goods, or a mechanical forest full of strange, if thankfully unmoving, beasts. Even vessels sometimes count – you could have the sweets be contained in little chariots decorated with gold and azure. If you prefer to walk on the wild side, take a page out of Taillevent’s book (quite literally – it’s called Viandier) and construct a fake lion equipped to spout flame: ‘make it with a brass-lined mouth and a thin brass tongue, and with paper teeth glued in the mouth; and put camphor and a little cotton in the mouth and, when it is about to be served before the lords, set fire to this’.

Just don’t do what they did for the Feast of the Pheasant when they’ve made a statue of a naked woman in a large hat who spouted sweetened wine from her breasts for the duration of the dinner. Please.

Sources:

Normore, Christina. A Feast for the Eyes.

Andrew Brown and Graeme Small, Court and Civic Society in the Burgundian Low Countries c. 1420–1530.

Kelcey Wilson-Lee, Daughters of Chivalry: The Forgotten Children of Edward I.

[chilly-me-softly]

Every Little Thing’s Gonna Be Alright • Chapter 18

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17

"Wow girls you are... wow" Ben is pleasantly surprised as soon as he sees the two girls leave the room. Deb immediately approaches him and the two share a tender kiss while Evelyn looks down embarrassed at the compliment, suddenly feeling in their way.

Eventually the three of them make their way to the lift and Evelyn's heart misses a beat every time the lift stops at other floors, opening those doors so slowly it tortures her again and again by showing people she doesn't know, before finally arriving at the right one. And so she suddenly decides to get herself together. She went through a birth weeks before and nearly feels sick about a guy. Absolutely not.

The room is bright and warm, not making her regret wearing a strapless dress at all. There are already plenty of people around, small groups chatting and laughing. Ben at her side places a hand at the base of her back leading them forward to find Gareth Southgate, Harry Kane and his wife a few steps later.

"Ben, good to see you. And with two lovely ladies I can see"

"My girlfriend Deb and my sister Evelyn" he makes the introductions after shaking his manager's hand.

"Oh Evelyn, nice to finally meet you in person. Congratulations on your baby girl" the girl smiles trying to keep from glaring at the guy next to her as she shakes hands with everyone there.

"I'm sorry if he bothered you. My brother doesn't know where to draw the line"

"Nah next training session he'll get what he deserves" Kane teases him making everyone laugh under his brother's mock indignant look.

The round of introductions continues as Ben leads both of them around the room. She doesn't feel as nervous as she had imagined, everyone is so nice and friendly and the fact that she sees almost everyone at least once a week via a screen has helped to make the environment even more familiar despite not really knowing them. But it's only fair because she finds herself on the other side for a few minutes too, experiencing what it feels like to be known by everyone but not be known at the same time. It turns out that everyone seems to know her thanks to Ben's big mouth but if nothing else that had taken the pressure off of finding conversation topics.

"You know who just walked in, get ready" Deb whispers to her while Ben is busy having a conversation with James a few steps away from them. And Evelyn does everything in her power not to turn around, clutching her glass of water wishing it was something more at that moment.

"Oh finally! You're always late mat," Ben comments as soon as he sees Jack, the two of them exchanging the usual handshake as the boy laughs. And her gaze inevitably ends on him.  

The suit wraps his body properly, the tie is perfectly done and for a moment she wonders if someone has helped him. But there is no one at his side and she feels stupidly relieved. Their eyes meet for a brief moment and that is enough to send a shiver down her spine.

"Jack, do you remember my sister Evelyn?"

"How could I not. I mean we spent a whole day putting that cot together, did we?!" he steps forward leaning over slightly to leave a kiss on her cheek. And as he does the same greeting Deb, a trail of his scent reaches her nostrils. He looks so calm, as if nothing has happened, while she is in complete shambles. Again.  

"How's the baby? I hope the cot held up. I wasn't so convinced we'd be able to make it" Evelyn laughs partly and mostly at the absurdity of the situation.

"She's fine. And the cradle too, it's very comfortable. Not that I've... tried it out or anything" she replies, stumbling on a few words, wanting to facepalm herself, miming a gritted 'help me' to Deb when she's sure no one's looking.

"I need a refill. Eve are you coming with me?" Deb points to her glass before taking the girl under her arm and heading for the small bar area.

Evelyn sighs relieved once she walks away as Deb laughs, "Girl you are so hopeless"

"God why do I have to be so stupid?"

"Did I ever tell you about how I met your brother?" Evelyn shakes her head, interested in the story. Her brother had never been a fan of gossip, it was bad enough that he had let them know he was seeing someone let alone the whole story of how it happened.

"I was out with my friends and I was trying to impress this guy"

"You hooked up with my brother when you were interested in someone else?!" she asked amused as Deb shushed her with a hand gesture, taking the full glass and moving a little further aside.

"Let me finish. Anyway what I was saying, oh yeah I was trying to impress this guy. Nice looking bloke... but apparently he didn't see me. I reckon I spent hours dancing, fooling around with my friends trying to get his attention. But nothing"

"Until I practically ran into this guy who smiles at me and says you know it's not worth wasting time on someone who doesn't want you the way you want him"

"Ben" she states almost unnecessarily but Deb nods anyway smiling.

"Turns out he'd been watching me all night instead, only I was too busy being a fool to notice"

"So you're saying I need to look over?" Deb almost rolls her eyes in exasperation.  

"No. I'm telling you to open your eyes and look around. You feel stupid because you're trying so hard to hide your feelings. Let yourself go. If it goes well you'll have a decent person by your side, if it goes wrong... you'll get back up as usual"

"And if you're going to say you have a baby girl, I'm going to slap you. Right here in front of everyone" Evelyn immediately shuts her mouth, not wanting to challenge the girl who is more than capable of doing such a thing.

"You really know how to comfort people" she comments instead sarcastically glaring at her, trying to make her feel guilty at least a little.

"You don't need comfort, just a little push" she winks at her before they are interrupted by Ben dragging his girlfriend away to dance after making sure once again that everything is fine.

Evelyn stands there watching the two of them sway mindlessly in the middle of the dance floor and smiles. She remembers the first wedding their parents decided they were old enough to attend, how they hid under a table for almost half the reception to escape the entertainer and how Ben swore he would never dance like the groom and bride that day because 'too close, too much contact yuck'.

"What are you drinking?" a voice brings her back down to earth and when she turns her head she finds Jack at her side leaning against that counter with absolute nonchalance.

"Water"

"Oh. It definitely takes a bit of alcohol to get through these nights" he says with a hint of hilarity ordering a beer from the person behind the bar.

"I can't. I haven't touched a drop in ages now and I don't fancy making a fool of myself in front of everyone thanks"

"Something interesting. Sure you don't want some?"

"I'm glad my public humiliation excites you so much" Jack laughs before bringing the freshly served bottle closer to his lips.

"Besides, it doesn't seem to me they're forcing you to attend"

"I was so close to not coming in fact. Then I heard you were going to be there" their gazes intertwine as she tries to figure out if he's messing with her or if by some strange twist of fate she's misunderstood. But it's all there, in his ever so penetrating eyes. If she chooses not to see it, it's up to her.

"Are you two getting friendly?" she almost jumps on the spot not having heard him coming as Jack imperceptibly straightens his back.

"Something like that" Jack takes a long swig from his bottle, "I was just telling your sister that without alcohol these evenings are pretty boring"

"You're going to have to start looking for someone or we're going to start calling you Jack the boozer" Ben jokes as Deb scolds him for being rude and Jack shoots Evelyn a look before scoffing at him and taking another sip of that beer.

-

The first thing she thinks of as soon as the signal comes that they can leave is to run to her room as fast as she can to get rid of those heels. She had forgotten how confident they made her feel but also how uncomfortable they were after a while. That's why when Ben and Deb suggest her to go get something to eat with them, she flatly refuses. It's okay, she had a good night at the end and they deserve some time alone too without having to babysit her.

She heads for the lift as the two then head for the hotel exit, not taking long to get into the cubicle. Almost as the doors are about to close a hand blocks them and two people enter the lift. The door is about to close again but it's blocked again and she's about to huff loudly, dreading her plan, when her gaze meets Jack's. He approaches her as the doors finally close and the lift begins its ascent.

There is silence in the cubicle, Evelyn keeps her eyes on the display showing the current floor number, swaying slightly on her knees. When she feels something brush her hand along her side, first imperceptibly, so much so that she thinks she imagined it, then more firmly. The pinkie of Jack's hand searches for hers before intertwining and stupidly something inside her bursts, radiating a sudden warmth.

She doesn't look at him, instead keeping her gaze fixed on that number that keeps going up slowly. But she doesn't even do anything to interrupt that moment, enjoying the warmth released by that contact no matter how small and everything else.

The lift doors suddenly open and before she can realize it, the grip on her hand tightens and she finds herself in a hallway being led by Jack.

"What are you doing that's not my plan" she states confused but offering no resistance, curious as to what he might be up to.

"It's mine" he just says turning his head towards her for a second before taking the key card with his free hand and stopping in front of a door.

"I just want to spend some time with you. I can't waste this opportunity" he admits sincerely and she simply smiles at him waiting for him to open that door.

When she walks inside the first thing she does is let herself fall on the bed kicking off her heels, moaning at the feeling of freedom as Jack smiles closing the door behind him.

"Don't you dare use that against me. They were killing me"

"I didn't say anything" Jack raises his hands holding back a giggle and she tries to glare at him as he places his jacket on the chair nearby loosening his tie before sitting down on the bed next to her.

"Just know that you just ruined all my plans"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I could already see myself in my room getting rid of these heels and this dress, maybe a nice warm bath and a good refreshing sleep"

"Oh you can go if you want"

"Nah I'm here now" she says shrugging and he smiles before laying down next to her. They look into each other's eyes, both studying the other's face as if for the first time, until Evelyn sighs.

"I practically asked Deb never to leave me alone tonight and yet here I am" if she thinks about it it only makes her laugh.

"Were you afraid I might kidnap you?"

"That I might do something stupid actually"

"Like what?"

"Like be alone with you somewhere and-"

"And kiss me again. Is that what you're worried about?" Evelyn sighs closing her eyes but she can still feel his gaze on her, so persistent.

"Do you want to kiss me? Because I want to, so bad" she can hear his desire in his voice and she's thankful her eyes are closed and she can't see his expression too because that's the only reason she hasn't thrown herself at him frankly. She's struggling so much in that moment with her brain, and then here he comes.

"Can you open your eyes please?" he asks softly as she shakes her head, holding her breath when she hears him move.

"You know I stood outside your house I think for at least an hour that day. Hoping maybe you'd change your mind" he whispers catching her off guard, his voice closer now. And finally she gives in opening her eyes looking at him intently.

"Why?"

"Because whatever this is between us it's clear we both feel it Eve. I don't want to dance around it anymore"

"Jack I-"

"And I gave you your space because I knew you would need it. But all I've been doing is thinking about you, thinking about that kiss"

Evelyn sits on the edge of the bed at that point, leaning forward resting her elbows on her thighs and closing her fists in her hair. She feels him do the same as the bed moulds under their weight.

"You scare me. Because you make me feel things I thought I'd never feel again. Not as strong" a few seconds pass in which silence is the main protagonist, before he changes position kneeling in front of her. His hands go to release her hair from that hold, fingers to intertwine with each other.

"I know it's hard to trust and letting you go again after a breakup"

"That's the problem. I feel like I can trust you and that scares me because with Lucas I... we shared so much in such a short time and I even thought I loved him, and with you... I don't want that to happen again, I couldn't bear it"

"Little by little, allow yourself to be happy again. Let me in Eve" Evelyn's body comes forward imperceptibly as she pulls her hands from Jack's grasp, laying them immediately afterwards on his cheeks to pull him to her and make their lips meet. She stops thinking for once, following her feelings. And if she doesn't feel on the clouds, she doesn't know what describes that moment frankly.

"You don't know the confusion in my head right now" she giggles, resting her forehead against his. "I really want to turn my brain off sometimes"

"Oh I'm here for that" Jack grins mischievously pushing Evelyn backwards suddenly, causing her to lose her balance, and lie down next to her as she lets out a choked squeal in surprise before laughing. He moves closer to her again connecting their lips together smiling, he can't help but want more and more.

They can't break away but at the same time Evelyn doesn't want to rush things so she puts some space between them, deciding to take off that dress to get more comfortable and borrowing something from Jack's suitcase. She takes her time in the en-suite bathroom, sorting herself out and admiring in the mirror how those clothes are soaked in the boy's scent and she brings them to her nose stupidly before shaking her head and getting out of there.

Jack has changed too in the meantime, ditching his fancy shirt and trousers for something more comfortable, getting into bed and fiddling with his phone while waiting for her. It's a bit late but neither of them wants to close their eyes because it would mean ending the day and leaving, parting ways again.

"What will happen once we leave this room?" Evelyn voices her thoughts with a sigh causing him to look up from his phone which is immediately pushed aside.

"Come here" Jack holds out his hand to her and she walks over to him settling on his lap and letting his arms wrap around her.

"I'll tell you what's going to happen. You're gonna go back to your beautiful little girl and cuddle her because you've missed her so much and I'm gonna go back to my house and let my dog do that" the girl laughs as he leaves a kiss on her temple, "But we're gonna do everything we can to keep in touch like before or even more because I'm not leaving you now, that's for sure"

"Sorry, I just seem to need some comfort all the time"

"I'm here to give it to you. Whenever you need it. We said little by little right?" she kisses him again and each time a smile arises spontaneously on her lips. It's absurd, at the beginning of the day she had wished for it to pass as quickly as possible so she could go home to her little girl, but now she wishes it would last a little longer so she wouldn't have to be separated from Jack. To stay in that bubble they have created for themselves in those hours and in which they are so comfortable.

They talk and talk over and over until the yawns outweigh the words and then they give up, holding each other for what's left of the night taking all they can before they inevitably burst that bubble and test themselves in the tangled world they live in.

----

Tag: @alexajanecollins @emwritesfootball @rosie7703

Chapter 19

[smallerinfinities]

mad woman (nessian)

a/n: In which Nesta copes and Feyre interjects

hello! again, new here ☺️ this kind of just...happened? the idea came upon me late talking with @harryandmolly​ idk anyways hope you enjoy! if you don’t like modern AUs then this probably isn’t for you, but if you’re into that sort of thing and all the warnings that go with it then I would love to hear what you think!

tw: angst, coping with death, sex work, language

original art by the incomparable charlie bowater

Things were great until they weren’t. 

Nesta Archeron had been engaged. She had a father who loved her and a sister she adored. Until the plane crash. Until a faulty navigational system sent her fiancé, her father, and her sister into the side of a mountain on the way to her destination wedding.

She had gone to Hybern early, to get settled and calm her nerves, to plan around the security that Feyre had hired so that Rhys could attend the wedding. Nesta had told her not to bother, Rhys could stay in Velaris for all she cared. She’d gone and set it all up anyway. But it had all exploded when Nesta got the call that her world had ended and all she had left was a sister she resented and a brother-in-law with too high a profile. She was a tragic headline. A fucking media circus. 

High Lord Rhysand’s sister-in-law left at the altar in tragic plane crash. 

The press camped outside her Velaris studio for weeks. They’d only left when she had thrown a maelstrom of empty glass bottles out of her windows at them. Empty because she’d come back to Velaris and crawled inside a whiskey bottle and stayed there. She might be more whiskey than person now. The days were passing at a rate she couldn’t gauge anymore. Had it been hours or days or months since she’d picked up the phone in the middle of placing name cards on tables in the reception hall? She didn’t particularly care. Everyone who mattered was dead and being drunk was better than counting the minutes since her future had evaporated. 

A knock sounded at the door. 

Nesta removed the eye mask she was wearing and squinted at her phone. 7:15 AM. She’d been up all night again, had just laid down to try and sleep. Who the fuck was at her door at this hour?

She knew but she opened the door anyway. 

Feyre Archeron, High Lady of the Night Court, was in the hallway looking worried. Well, Nesta assumed she was looking worried. She could only see Feyre’s furrowed eyebrows between the oversized sunglasses and the wide-brimmed sun hat. She had wrapped her red-gold hair, twin to Nesta’s own color, into a low chignon to hide it away from prying eyes. A disguise. Nesta snorted. Feyre Archeron could be noticed in this city by a blind man a hundred yards down a busy avenue. It was the way she carried herself, the easy confidence. No one could mistake her for anyone but their High Lady. 

“What do you want?” Nesta crossed her arms over her chest, blocking the view into her apartment.

“Well, to start, a little respect for the person who has been footing your liquor bill for the last eight months.” Her red lips were turned down at the corners, tight. She angled her head past Nesta’s shoulder and crinkled her nose, “God, I don’t even need to see in there to know what it must look like. I can smell it from here. And I can see you.” 

Nesta kept her face a mask of annoyance but considered how she must look. Compared to Feyre’s heavy cream sweater and perfectly tailored tan pants, anyone would look slovenly but Nesta knew she'd let herself go.

A while ago, she’d taken to wearing Tomas’ shirts to bed. Then eventually she wasn’t getting out of bed so it was all the time, changing only when she found the strength to shower. Today’s shirt—more like this week’s shirt if she was being honest with herself—was an old striped dress shirt, one Tomas had maybe worn twice with a suit. It now had several stains from whiskey and whatever takeout she had ordered last night. She couldn’t quite remember. Chinese? Greek? 

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Her marriage was supposed to be one of convenience. They had been friends, had both gotten older and then tossed in the towel on dating. Tomas needed a cover for a lifestyle his parents forbade and Nesta...well Nesta wanted to be comfortable. Nesta wanted her sister to stop meddling and leave her alone. At least, she thought she did. 

But, no one had known. No one except Elain.

It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. 

Her hair hadn’t been washed in days, it was matted in some places, stuck to her face in others. She knew her eyes were hollow, sunken in and lacking that fire people saw when they looked at her. She’d been avoiding her own reflection for weeks, had even covered the mirror by the door. Months ago, apparently. Eight months. 

Had it really been that long? Had she really been moving from bottle to bottle, takeout container to takeout container, for eight whole months? She’d barely left the apartment, had lost her job, happy to exploit Feyre’s seemingly unending pity. Pity she guessed had run out. 

Today. 

She didn’t care about that either.

“Come all this way to chide me, dear sister?” Nesta curled her lips as she moved aside to let Feyre through. Might as well let her see. 

“Thank you.” Her sister breezed into the little sitting area and stopped dead.

Her eyes scanned the room, marking the recycling bin first, overflowing with empty glass bottles. All different labels. Whatever Nesta could find quickest. Then the kitchen counters, filled with boxes of crackers and empty ramen noodle packages, cans of tuna and an open jar of peanut butter, anything that could be quickly consumed with minimal effort. She didn’t want to die, but she hadn’t exactly been concerned with living either. 

At last her eyes darted to the corner, over by the window, where a white dress hung from a hunting knife that had been punched through the wall. Straight through the center of the sweetheart neckline. Nesta had lost count of the weeks it had been there. A reminder. A memorial. Little circular burns littered the fishtail skirt, remnants of late nights with too much booze and an ashtray full of half-smoked blunts still on the windowsill. 

“Oh, Nesta.” Feyre’s hand came up to cup her mouth. Nesta raised her chin, refusing to feel reprimanded. “I’m sending Alis this afternoon.” 

“I can look after myself,” Nesta hissed through her teeth. 

“Clearly,” Feyre threw her arms wide and turned in a circle, “you cannot. You know I came here hoping you were getting better. I gave you space, knew you blamed me for what happened. At least partially. But it’s time, Nesta. I lost them too. But I don’t have the luxury of drinking and smoking my way into oblivion on my sister’s dime.” 

“Is this just about the money?” Nesta asked incredulously, “I’ll fucking pay you back if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

“No, no,” Feyre brushed a lock of hair out of her face, frustrated, “it’s not the money. I don’t care about the money. Neither does Rhys. We just want you to come back to the land of the living.” 

“Ah, yes. The royal We.” Nesta sat abruptly on her sunken couch and leaned forward, not caring that she was just wearing a pair of underwear beneath the oversized shirt, “how is dearest Rhys? High Lording as well as ever I presume. Now with better reasons than ever to hate me.” 

“He doesn’t hate you,” she said too quickly, wringing her fingers for a moment before she whispered, “we...we missed you at the funerals.” 

Nesta’s blood ran cold. Her eyes swam with tears that wouldn’t fall.

“I know why you didn’t show,” Feyre couldn’t look at her, “I almost understand it...but we still missed you. Father was interred with full honors of the Night Court. I’m having a garden planted for Elain up at the estate. You should come see it when you’re ready.” 

Nesta really needed a drink. Feyre needed to leave. She couldn’t do this. Not now. Not today. Not ever. 

“Get out.” 

“Nesta—”

“Get out.” Nesta’s voice was low, lethal. 

“Fine,” the High Lady voice was back in full force, “I only really came to give you this.” She pulled out what looked like a business card from her freshly pressed pant pocket, “this might seem...forward. But, I think it might help you. Rhys and I use the service sometimes when we’re looking for something different. I know you won’t go see someone. This might be a different kind of therapy. Tell her I sent you, she’ll know what to do.”

“Fine, fine,” Nesta took the card from her, hoping it would get her to leave faster, “get out.” 

“Nesta,” Feyre stopped and took a breath, her hand wrapped around the doorknob, “please do be discrete.” 

Nesta furrowed her brow, but nodded. She had been, for the most part. Except on nights she was too blitzed to remember her own name, let alone that her sister was High Lady of this region. 

“I’m still sending Alis,” Feyre wrinkled her nose again as she opened the door and strolled out. And that was that. No goodbye. They hadn’t ever been good at those. 

Nesta blinked at the door, the apartment suddenly feeling small and cramped. She turned over the card in her hand. It had only a name and a number. AMREN. 202-555-0187. She flicked it onto the table. Whatever, she thought as she sauntered over to the kitchen and took a swig from the nearest whiskey bottle. 

↞↠

“Ms. Archeron.”

“Yes?” The tone of the man’s voice made her drop the place card she had been holding. 

“There’s been an accident. A plane crash,” he hesitated. Her eyes stopped seeing. Her body shivered with a bone-rattling chill despite the summer sun streaming into the room through the open windows. They couldn’t be—

“Say it.” Her voice was a breath on the wind. 

“There were no survivors.”

She didn’t hear the rest. Someone was screaming. A crash, glass breaking, warmth sliding down her leg. A sharp, metallic smell in the air. She couldn’t hear them calling her name, couldn’t feel their fingers gripping her skin, feel the pressure of the towel collecting the blood from the gash in her leg. 

A plane crash, he’d said. No survivors. 

Tomas was dead. 

Her father was dead.

Elain…she had just planted flowers for spring. 

A fresh scream ripped from her throat.

↞↠

She woke up with it echoing in her ears, heart pounding. Wrenching the fresh sheets off her clammy skin, she felt for the scar on her thigh, catapulting her back into the present. Nesta hadn’t let them stitch it for days, had wanted to remember. It had almost festered. Feyre had held her down while they numbed and sutured. Most of those days were lost now, either to shock or sleep, she didn’t know. It hadn’t taken long for the drinking to start. 

Her head was pounding. Alis had stormed the apartment hours earlier, tut-tutting about the stale stench, throwing open every window. Nesta actually appreciated the fresh air. She didn’t appreciate the old woman’s silent appraisal of her ruined wedding dress. 

“Don’t touch it,” Nesta had snapped. Alis had tut-tutted some more, cleaning as she went, but she left the dress alone. 

Now, with a clean apartment and nothing to keep her company but her own self-pity, she laid spread-eagle in her bed that felt too big in clothes that felt too clean. Nothing matched her insides anymore. The small, decrepit thing inside of her that shrivelled that day and rejected everything still living. Even herself. She had never been a particularly warm person, but Elain, sweet and beautiful Elain, had made her care about something outside of herself.

She got up to find something to dull her head. A bottle of ibuprofen sat on the coffee table, next to a decanter of scotch. She washed the pills down with the brown liquor and sat on the edge of the sofa, her head in her hands.

The silence pressed her on her eardrums. An oppressive lack of sound, only the barest of sounds audible on the street. Too quiet. For the first time in months it was too quiet. Her head shot up and focused, eyes darting to the card neatly placed in the corner of the table. 

Amren. 

What had Feyre meant, “a different kind of therapy”? Hell would have to freeze over before Nesta crawled onto a couch to talk about her feelings, Feyre had admitted as much. So what was this? 

She picked up the card and flipped it over. Simple, white, just the number in embossed black. The curiosity was going to kill her if she didn’t just call the number. She reached for her phone, hauled out from between the couch cushions by Alis earlier. It had been dead for weeks. She’d given up on ignoring the condolences calls and just let the battery drain. Probably why Feyre had shown up yesterday unannounced. She swiped past all of the missed call and voicemail notifications and pulled up the keypad. 

It only rang once. 

“Yes?” A clipped, cold voice answered the phone. 

“Uhh, is this Amren?” 

“Speaking,” her voice didn’t soften, “can I help you?” 

“My sister gave me your card,” Nesta didn’t like this woman. She wracked her brain to think of how this person could help her, especially when she didn’t particularly want anyone’s help. 

“And who, my dear,” Nesta could hear the snide smile in Amren’s voice, “is your sister?”

“Feyre,” Nesta huffed, “Feyre Archeron.” 

“Oh, Feyre darling! Why didn’t you say so?” Amren warmed immediately. Well, at least to a level above stone cold. “Yes, Feyre told me about you.”

“You must have read—”

“I don't read the news, dear girl,” Amren said, flippant. “I have someone perfect for you. I will send him. Already have your address.” 

God, she really needed to have a conversation with Feyre about boundaries. Who is she sending?

“Who are you sending?” Nesta had not been sober long enough for this. Her brain wasn’t firing quick enough to deal with whoever this person was sending to her apartment. 

“His name is Cassian. He’ll be at your apartment in two hours.” 

Two hours?!

“I can’t have anyone in my apartment in two hours! What is this??” 

“We call it therapy,” just like Feyre had, “you don’t need to do anything to prepare.” 

“But I don’t even—” The line went dead. 

Nesta stared at her phone. How could I prepare if I don’t know what to prepare for?

↞↠

Two hours later, Nesta was pacing. Nervous. She was rarely nervous but she was also rarely unprepared. This felt like a bad omen, like suspense in a horror film. Like this Cassian might jump out of the shadows at any moment from some secret portal. 

She had washed her hair but no makeup. She had put on leggings but no real pants. There were concessions she was willing to make and others she wasn’t. It didn’t matter that they were only concessions to her own pride. Feyre got one opportunity to meddle in Nesta’s life, one opportunity to try and control how she coped with losing everything. Nesta would endure it in her own home, in her bare feet, or she wouldn’t endure it at all. 

An assertive knock at the door made her jump. 

Her heart thundered. She hadn’t talked to a man in months, let alone been in a small space with one. Now there was one at her door. She padded across her expensive rug, smoothing her hair as she went. Her hand gripped the doorknob, giving herself a second to stop shaking. Breathe in, breathe out. She jerked the door open only to be left utterly speechless. 

The most beautiful man she’d ever seen was leaning on the door frame, forearms crossed over his massive chest. 

“Nesta?” one corner of his full mouth curved upward. He inclined his head behind her left shoulder after she nodded. “Gonna let me in?” 

“Why should I?” She challenged, angling her chin up at him. 

“Because,” his shoulder length black hair slid into his face as his towering frame looked down at her. He came closer and held her chin between his rough fingers, “you’re at least a little curious about what I’m doing here.” 

Nesta ripped her face from his hands and took a step away from him. His hazel eyes stripped her bare. How does he do that? He appraised her frankly, taking in her sloppily thrown together appearance. The baby hairs that clung to the side of her face, unable to stay in her top knot. Her soft curves that the oversized t-shirt she wore only hinted at. All the way down to her toes, the cracked polish left over from her wedding manicure, just a couple of splotches of color left. 

His gaze sent a warmth through her. She tried to will it away, send it back to the hell she belonged in. Shaking her head, she stuck him with a glare. 

“Fine,” she stepped aside, “come in and tell me what you’re doing here so I can tell you to get out.” 

He walked in smoothly, his gray slacks gripping his toned thighs with each stride. Too casual, Nesta thought, for a therapist, especially with his white shirt open at the collar and rolled to his elbows. Not that she actually believed whatever this was even approached therapy.

He stopped in the center of Nesta’s living room and turned, giving the place as detailed a once-over as he had given her. His eyes only paused briefly on the wedding dress still hanging in the corner, but he faced her again as if nothing were out of the ordinary. 

“So,” he took up so much space as he spoke, too big, too much life for this apartment that had only contained her hollow soul for so long, “everyone up to this point has referred to this appointment as therapy, correct?” 

“Yes,” Nesta replied, curt. “But you’re no therapist, are you, Cassian?”

He snorted, a challenge to her fire temper. She didn’t like to be mocked and somehow he knew that. “No, I’m no therapist.” 

“I’m what is referred to in the circles you run in as an escort, a friend, of sorts.” He looked her dead in the eye. No shame, no fear. Just a professional. “We call it therapy, first and foremost for discretion, but also because I’m here to make you feel better. Feel alive again. In whatever form that might take.”

Nesta stiffened. Her mouth dropped open. No. “My sister sent me a hooker? You’re telling me that, my sister, the High Lady of the Night Court, sent me a hooker?!” 

She could barely keep up with the 100 mile an hour thoughts racing through her head. It wasn’t long before the pacing started again. Feyre said she uses the service sometimes...with Rhys?! She maybe could have guessed that her sister and her ass of a husband were freaky but prostitutes?! Couldn’t they just ask someone? 

Nesta, please do be discrete, she’d said as she walked out the door. She guessed paying for silence was easier than risking a secret. Money is always the best form of currency. 

Well, I guess I fucking know why. And she set this up for me?! What in hell’s fire did she think she was doing?

Cassian just stood there while her brain worked, while it exploded with all of this new information. So still, a statue compared to her frantic pacing. He must deal with this a lot. But wait, don’t people usually know what they’re asking for?! 

“You’ve never–“ she couldn’t finish the question out loud. Sharing was something foreign to Nesta even when she wasn’t talking about sexual partners. 

“No,” he shook his head, “Amren wouldn’t have sent me here if I had. She just told me the context of the visit.”

“So, you’re here,” Nesta stopped in front of him, “to have sex with me?” The words came out a whisper. They sounded so foreign, so ridiculous. 

“I’m here to help you.” He took a step toward her. The walls came down fast.

“And why do you think you can help me?” The words cut through the space like a knife. Accusatory, incredulous, they almost stung passing over her vocal cords. 

“Because, dear Nesta,” he took another step toward her, and another, “I’m very good at helping people.” 

The warmth in her blood returned and warred with the acid coursing through her veins, the hate. It came raging back from this morning, from the past months, from ten minutes ago when this cocky prick knocked on her door. He was staring again, close enough to have to look down at her, just an inch or two from touching. 

“I don’t need help from a high-dollar whore,” she spat. The only sign that she’d hit her mark was a faint twitch in his eyebrow. 

“I’ve been called worse, sweetheart,” he drawled. “But let’s get one thing straight. I think you need help more than you’d ever admit. I don’t think you’ve taken a breath since then. I read the papers. A beloved dead sister. Absent from the funerals. You blame yourself for not being there, for not dying with them. The guilt warms your bed at night while you lie awake, as much a part of you as the alcohol that twinges your breath. It’s become so familiar you don’t remember what it’s like without it. Who would Nesta Archeron be without that dark stain on her conscience following her like a storm cloud? Will all those liquor bottles I saw outside answer that question for you? Will that tattered wedding dress?”

“How dare–“ she felt the door press against her back, unconsciously moving with him while he lashed at her burning soul, fire for fire. 

“Oh, I dare,” he continued, planting his hands on the door behind her, trapping her with his eyes. “Because take it from someone who knows, when you decide to wake up and live with what you have left instead of existing with everything you’ve lost, there may not be anything left to live with. And trust me, guilt makes a very lonely bedfellow.”

Nesta had barely blinked this whole time, refusing to let him have that victory. Even if everything he’d said had hit home. Even if everything he’d said had flayed her open and raked her insides across the coals. She still burned with that unyielding rage. 

“Is that what you say to all the girls that pay for your time?” she asked, cocking her head to the side. She was close enough to smell him, the warm spice of clove and sandalwood with a distinctly male musk. It was intoxicating. It was infuriating. 

“Some. Some of the men, too. I’m an equal opportunity tough lover.” 

She swallowed hard. He was close enough that if she moved an inch his hair might brush her cheek. “Is that what this is? Tough love? For someone you just met?”

“It’s the truth,” his breath tickled her face, the tension crackling like static electricity around them, “isn’t it?”

He sounded tentative for the first time, like maybe he’d overstepped. Is it really so obvious?

“Did Feyre pay you to say those things?” Or were they just written so plainly on her face?

“Nooo,” he said, lower than before, gentler, raising one of his hands like he might stroke her cheek. She cursed herself silently for hoping. He came closer then, his lips a hair’s breadth away from her ear, “Feyre paid me to fuck you senseless.” 

Goddamn him. Fire shot into her veins. Not the simmering fury of her anger but something deeper, hotter, pooling in her core. Her breath caught in a little gasp and he smiled. A wide, full grin with teeth that made him look more predator than man.

Her body was a traitor, but it made no difference. She was already burning in hell.

Cassian held still, letting her make the next move. Part of her wanted to make him stand there forever, punish him for what he said, what he knew about her, daring to say what no one else would with just one look. A different part of her wanted to rip him apart. 

“Come on, Nesta,” a prince of cats toying with his prey, “show me that fi–“

Her lips crashed against his. God, he was big. She reached around him, fingers tensed to claw at his back, and savored the muscles and sinews that made up the terrain. He pressed her into the door. His hands cupped her face, so gentle for a kiss that was anything but. Flames licked her skin everywhere he touched, at every point their bodies connected through clothing.

He leaned and gripped and suddenly she was taller than him, her legs wrapped around his middle, his fingers pressed into the curve of her ass. She gripped the sides of his face and guided him to the side, forcing herself deeper, her tongue brazenly exploring his mouth. He even tasted wild, like fresh mint and adrenaline. Her heart beat in her ears, deafening over the silence of the apartment. He moaned, so deep it vibrated in her chest.

Nesta broke first, pupils blown and breath ragged.

“Finally shut you up?” she asked, sagging back against the door, her head falling against the wood with a low thud. 

He….well, he growled. There was no other word for the sound that rippled through his whole body and found a home between her legs. Her toes curled and she thanked every god that he couldn’t see. 

“Pretty little acid tongue,” he pushed them off the door and walked her toward the bed, almost tripping twice over the plush rug. Nesta didn’t notice. She was too busy tearing at the buttons down Cassian’s chest. Each one revealed inch after inch of smooth golden skin. Licks of black ink stretched from his shoulders, mostly hidden by more shirt. She huffed, trying to shove it off, but instead caught his nipple by accident with her nails. 

His nostrils flared as he hissed and dropped her unceremoniously on the mattress. She bounced, breathless. Dangerously close to a giggle. Traitor. She schooled her features back to bored disdain. The only hint of lust was the glassy haze in her vision, honed in on Cassian’s bare chest. 

He had removed his shirt while she had been distracted by her traitorous body, discarded it somewhere above her. The black inked lines Nesta had seen stretched around his shoulders and down his arms in dark whorls and spirals. The tattoo was almost feminine in its pure decoration, a stark contrast to his cut biceps. It was beautiful. 

He was beautiful. 

“Careful, Nesta,” he chided, “someone might think you like what you see.” 

She gave him a filthy gesture. A deep, rumbling laugh escaped him as he took a step closer, his fingers grazing the outer seams of her leggings. From her ankle to her knee, where he stopped to make circles. He curved around her knee and gripped her legs, tugging her to the edge of the bed. The palms of his hands burned her skin straight through her leggings. He hadn’t tried to remove her clothes. She couldn’t decide if it was a tease or an insult. Probably both. 

“Are you just going to talk?” she cocked an eyebrow at him, “or are you going to do something productive with that mouth?” 

His eyes narrowed, “are you sure that’s what you want?” 

She wanted him. Damn her, she wanted him so bad she could barely stand to look at him. The guilt roiled in her stomach, that she should take pleasure while everyone she’d loved could no longer. He’d offered her help, but it would be her damnation. No, this was just a distraction. No amount of distraction could bring back Tomas, or her father, or Elain. 

Light from the city outside shifted and spread into the corner drawing her eye. The dress. Her wedding dress. In the night shadows, the blunt burns looked like angry, gaping voids. They whispered to her as she stared. Traitor, traitor, traitor. 

I’m here to help you. His words were poison. Bred from a kind of hope only Feyre, with her perfect life, could ever have again after what they had lost. Her want for Cassian’s body burned her from the inside, stoked the fires of the self-inflicted hell she’d cast herself into. Nothing more than a catalyst. She could take his body and burn for doing so, but she would not accept his help. 

“Cassian,” Nesta’s voice didn’t belong to her. She pulled her t-shirt up to just below her breasts, exposing her flat stomach and drawing his eyes to her waistband. “just do what you came to do.” 

The air chilled as he stiffened. Her heart raced, waiting for him, fingers teasing her bare skin. He didn’t move. She lifted a bare foot and ran it along his pant leg, coaxing him to touch her. He nodded, as if making some decision Nesta wasn’t privy to. His face, lit so beautifully by the moonlight, hardened into a mask. A smooth, smiling mask. Prince of cats no more. 

“Cassian?” 

“Dear Nesta, I do believe our time is up,” he leaned down and reached over her, his chest just grazing her belly, the only skin to skin contact they’d had. She swore she felt him shudder, but it was over in an instant. He quickly retrieved his shirt from behind her and pulled it on. 

She gaped at him, “what do you mean our time is up?” 

“I mean,” his eyes shot right through her with cool confidence, “it’s getting late and I do need my beauty sleep. I must be going.” 

“But–“ she didn’t understand. Isn’t this what he wanted? Isn’t this how he gets paid? How can he leave? 

He buttoned up his shirt, swift and efficient. Little feeling or warmth. Nesta wasn’t sure what to do. Confusion quickly gave way to anger, boiling in her veins, flushing her skin.

“So, you’re not just a whore,” she hissed, “you’re a bastard whore that can’t even finish the job.” 

“So lovely meeting you, dear Nesta,” he turned with a sweet smile and opened the door, sending any tension between them out into the hallway. He breezed through the door, clicking it shut behind him so gently he might have been a phantom. 

Nesta slammed her head against the mattress and let out a frustrated scream so loud she had no doubt the bastard whore heard it.

taglist: @sleeping-and-books @greerlunna @sjmships @cupcakey00 @queenestarcheron

Cassian’s POV is next ❤️

[raleighcarrera]

cliché

ride or die | colt kaneko x mc (ellie wheeler)

an au where everyone is college friends and logan is getting married and the best friend of his ellie always hated is going to be logan’s best man. as the maid of honor, she’s probably expected to be at least a little nice to him. 

for @rodappreciationweek, of course! day 7/wild card

(spoiler alert: i bent the rules of weddings for plot reasons so go easy)

tags: @choicesarehard, @lovehugsandcandy, @pixeljazzy, @troublemakerinspace, @dancingboba, @yaushie, @brightpinkpeppercorn, @tempesrature, @zigtheeortega, @beccadavenport, @theeccentricbibliophile 

~15.5k words | M (18+)

she squealed, clapping her hands excitedly in view of the laptop’s webcam. “i’m so happy for you guys! seriously, this is amazing.”

from across the country, ingrid beamed, still holding her left hand aloft so ellie could see her ring. “did you know?”

ellie shook her head. “i knew he’d bought a ring but i didn’t know he was proposing now.” her attention turned to logan, “i thought you were waiting until your anniversary?”

he shrugged, looking just as excited as ingrid did. “i couldn’t wait anymore, it was driving me crazy.”

ingrid leaned her head on logan’s shoulder. “ellie, say you’ll be my maid of honor.”

“oh my god, of course i will!” ellie gushed, blinking away a sudden wave of emotion. “please, you guys know i’d do anything for you.”

the two of them exchanged a glance. “glad to hear you say that,” logan said slowly, “because i already asked colt to be my best man.”

the smile dropped off her face. “are you kidding me?”

“come on, it won’t be that bad,” ingrid rushed to assure her, “you’ll hardly have to deal with him. but -- while we’re breaking bad news to you...” she pursed her lips, and then shrugged. “we already set a date, too.”

“it’s in three months,” logan interjected helpfully.

ellie felt her eyes bug out. “three months?”

“el, we got our dream venue,” ingrid sighed wistfully, “you’re going to die when you see it. it was the only saturday they had available for, like, the next five years. it’s in santa monica overlooking the water and it’s just -- it’s perfect.”

“that’s really soon,” she said dumbly, “we have a lot to do.”

“totally.” ellie watched as ingrid shifted from blushing bride in love to ruthless, no-nonsense delegator. “we’re going to cram as much of it in as we can when you’re home for spring break. i already made us appointments to go look at dresses and tuxes and then -- we’ll figure everything else out when you’re here.”

the thought of spending her spring break shopping with colt kaneko was already making a headache start to throb behind her eyes. but ingrid and logan were her best friends. and they deserved the wedding of their dreams.

she pasted the biggest, most extreme smile she could muster on her face. “sounds great, you guys.”

*

ellie relished the long flight home from new york to los angeles, well aware that it was probably going to be the last moment she had to relax until the end of the summer. 

there had to be some irony in the fact that she was midway through pursuing her ph.d and more stressed out about her college friends’ wedding than anything else. 

but her coursework was going well. everything in her life was falling into place perfectly, exactly how she’d always envisioned it. 

this was the wrench in the plan. how she was supposed to make time to come back home for ingrid and logan’s wedding when she’d already committed to spending her summer in miami doing field work was a problem she didn’t need.

so she spent the flight napping, enjoying the five hours in the air as the only chance she’d get to kick back during her spring break. if she knew ingrid at all, she was going to be barking orders from the moment ellie’s feet touched orange county soil until the second they left. 

still, there were at least a few hours she could spend delaying the inevitable.

riya picked her up at the airport and ellie threw herself into her arms eagerly for a giant hug. “oh my god, i am so glad to see you. thank you for picking me up -- i pretty much have bridal boot camp all week.”

“ingrid’s got it all planned out, huh?” riya asked, helping her get her suitcase in the car with a grin. “look, it probably won’t be that bad. you’re you -- when darius and i got married you were the reason we didn’t even need a wedding planner!”

“that was different,” ellie explained, as riya started driving them back to the city, “you and darius are normal. maid of honor doesn’t mean the same thing to ingrid that it meant to you, trust me.”

“well, i believe in you,” her oldest friend declared, “and even if it’s awful, just come over afterwards and we can drown ourselves in wine.”

“done and done,” she sighed. “i’m sorry i probably won’t be around much this week otherwise. i know it’s been forever since we caught up.”

“please, i can’t even imagine how busy you are,” riya said, waving her apology off, “you’re getting close to the home stretch, eh?”

ellie shrugged. “i still have two more years of study, but -- yeah, pretty much. it’s crazy.”

“so crazy,” riya agreed, “but you will absolutely see me and dare in miami as soon as you get set up there.”

the thought of it, with everything she knew was ahead of her this week, sounded like nothing short of paradise. “can’t wait,” she said genuinely, sighing as the car slowed to a stop in front of the house she’d grown up in. “wanna come in and say hi to my dad?”

“uh uh,” riya chided, “i’m done being the buffer between you two. sooner or later, you’re going to have to have that long overdue heart-to-heart.”

“okay, dr. phil,” ellie groaned, “thanks a lot.” her phone lit up with a text from ingrid as soon as she closed the car door. 

be at your house in 5 it said, pulling a sigh of relief from deep within her. 

saved by the bell.

*

ellie only had a moment to drop her bags and shout a quick hello to her dad before she heard a car horn honk and rushed back outside, leaning over the car’s center console to give ingrid a big hug hello. 

“boy, am i ever glad to see you,” her friend said. “everything is already such a disaster. the venue is giving me such an attitude about moving our ceremony outside and my sister is an out of control diva who is, like, demanding to be allowed to read a poem before we say our vows and -- i swear i’ve almost killed logan at least twice.”

“wow. okay, well -- all of that sounds fixable.” though already she knew the next three months were going to be nothing like the ramp up to riya and darius’ wedding. ellie stifled a sigh. 

“oh, it will be,” ingrid threatened darkly, “we’re doing everything at once today. dresses -- tuxes -- groomsmen, bridesmaids. i tried being nice about it, but do you know what i realized? some people don’t deserve to be allowed to make their own decisions. so i changed our appointment and i’m going to supervise and everyone who acts normal will be allowed to come help me pick out my dress at our new appointment on wednesday.”

ellie blinked. “whatever you want,” she said finally, her brain still working to process what the hell she was talking about, “it’s your day.”

“yes it is,” ingrid agreed viciously, “i’m glad you’re on board. come on.”

ellie followed behind her into the boutique they’d arrived at, immediately catching sight of eight or so of their closest friends from college, plus logan’s cousin and ingrid’s sister, the latter who was staring at a long, pink dress with her arms crossed petulantly over her chest. “i’m not trying that on,” she said, as ellie stepped closer, “it’s going to accentuate my shoulders.”

“look, brat,” ingrid started, lowering her voice to the dangerous timbre ellie had come to associate with group project members who weren’t pulling their own weight, “get in that dressing room and put this on right now or so help me god --”

“ellie!” 

she turned around and saw logan, the distressed look on her face instantly melting into one of relief. “oh my god, hi,” she laughed, rushing over for a hug, “it’s so good to see you!”

“hey, back at you,” he grinned, “seriously, i know this probably isn’t how you wanted to spend your spring break, but -- thank god you’re here. ingrid needs all the help she can get.”

ellie pulled out of his arms and saw that he was wearing an elegant black tuxedo, the lines of which settled nicely on his shoulders and seemed to suit him perfectly. “okay, but -- this is a great tux.” she called out to ingrid over her shoulder. “come look at this one.”

ingrid walked over and gave logan a cursory glance. “i hate it. get changed.”

logan shot her an amused glance, but dipped back into the dressing room without a word. bless him, ellie thought, before drawing in a deep breath and asking, “okay, where do you want me?”

as if on cue, a harried shop attendant immediately dropped a pile of gowns into ellie’s arms. “follow me.”

*

the first dress she tried on was bright pink and heavily ruffled -- so ugly she honestly didn’t even want to show everyone. 

but she hitched up the skirt and stepped out of the dressing room obligingly, standing in front of the mirrors and the rest of the bridal party for ingrid’s judgment.

you have the ideal body type, ingrid had explained nonsensically to her as they herded her off with the gowns, so you’ll try on all of them and then once we find one we like everyone else will try it on, too. 

ugh. “it’s not... that bad,” ellie said delicately, once she was situated on the platform in front of the group.

“not if you’re little bo peep.” 

god. she’d know that smug, arrogant, self-centered, self-obsessed, narcissistic egomaniac voice anywhere.

“hi, colt,” ellie said pointedly, without turning her head, “nice to see you, too.”

he stepped closer, directly into her field of vision. there was no avoiding looking at him, then. 

colt was just as handsome as he’d been the last time she’d seen him, over a year ago at logan’s twenty-fifth birthday party, but this time, he was in a navy blue tux that had no business looking as good as it did. 

he smirked at her. “as if anyone could miss you in that thing.”

ellie sighed, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling. formalwear could only go so far when it came to making him appear tolerable, it seemed. “do you always have to be the most insufferable person in every room you’re in?”

“not always, no. but i like to win.”

“it’s disgusting,” ingrid declared abruptly, before ellie could snap back at him, “please take it off. can you try on the purple one next?”

she ducked back into the dressing room, thunking her head softly against the wall once the door swung shut behind her. why me, ellie thought miserably, i’m a good person. this isn’t fair.

it took two and a half hours, but eventually, she’d tried on what felt like every single dress at the store. finally, once she’d wiggled into a gown that was a soft, sky blue, figure-hugging with thin straps and delicate lace accents over tasteful cut-outs, ingrid gasped, “that’s it! that’s the one.”

every bridesmaid, including ellie, sagged with relief. “great,” she smiled, “i’ll just get out of the way so everyone else can try theirs on, too.”

just before she stepped back inside the dressing room to get changed, she caught sight of colt, who was still standing around on their side of the shop for some reason. he was staring at her, face carefully blank -- though there was something in his eyes she couldn’t quite place.

as soon as he noticed she’d caught him looking, he stormed off.

once ellie was back in her street clothes, ingrid said, “i’ll finish up over here. can you please go make sure the guys are on the right track?”

ellie winced as she approached the men’s side of the store. half of logan’s groomsmen were dressed in navy, the other half in black -- logan had a white jacket on and one of their friends from college, brent, was inexplicably wearing pants that were powder blue.

“oh my god, ingrid’s going to kill you,” she said to logan. “i can see why she sent me over here to babysit.”

“hey, i’ve got it sort of under control,” logan said defensively, “she said she wanted slate grey. look at this.”

ellie cringed again as he held a jacket on a hanger aloft in front of her eyes. “that’s charcoal grey.”

the determined look on logan’s face crumpled immediately. “fuck. can you help me?”

she was already nodding before he finished his question. “just -- get in there and get that off before anyone sees. i’ll pull tuxes for everyone.”

it was only a few minutes before she was passing out new outfits, herding each of logan’s groomsmen into their respective dressing rooms one by one. 

only one of them gave her any trouble about it. as soon as she passed him his tux, colt scowled, asking, “what is this?”

“a tuxedo,” she answered tersely, “presumably you’ve seen one before? like, an hour ago? those are all called tuxedos. maybe you never learned the word?”

he merely rolled his eyes at her. “why are you giving it to me?”

“because i want you to put it on. now. like, immediately.” 

still, he just stood there. “i already tried on forty of them.”

“then one more shouldn’t make much of a difference.” she shoved his shoulder expectantly. “go.”

ingrid wandered over just as they all started to emerge. as they stood in a line outside the dressing room, she laid a hand to her heart and gasped. “oh my god, they’re perfect. baby, you did such a good job!”

“actually --” logan started, though he stopped abruptly as soon as he caught sight of the way ellie was frantically shaking her head from behind ingrid’s back, “uh, thanks. i want everything to be perfect for you.”

“oh my god, you guys can do something right,” ingrid sniffed, “i’m so happy. okay -- fuck it, let’s go get drinks. i’ll get the first round.”

*

a few of their friends cornered her as soon as she got her first drink. it was the same every time she came home; everyone wanted to know how new york was, how school was going, what the dating pool was like on the east coast and if she’d met anyone. they asked the same questions every time ellie was able to make it out so they could catch up, and she gave the same answers.

it was exhausting. she gulped down her glass of wine as quickly as humanly possible, just so she could have an excuse to escape back to the bar. 

the bartender slid her a shot when he passed her refilled wine glass back to her. his smile was sympathetic. “you look like you need this.”

ellie grimaced at him, but immediately lifted the shot to her lips and knocked it back. “that obvious?”

“oh, yeah.” he placed his palms on the bar top and leaned in close, grinning brightly at her. “let me guess. family reunion?”

“worse,” she sighed, “two of my best friends from college are getting married. in three months.”

he whistled, slowly shaking his head. “brutal. i don’t think we have enough alcohol in the bar to help you with that.”

“tell me about it,” ellie laughed, taking a sip from her wine glass to chase away the burn of the shot she’d done, “you don’t even know the half of it.”

“well...” he smiled charmingly at her again. “my shift is over in twenty minutes. i’ll gladly listen to you complain, if you want.”

she blinked. “oh, i --”

“hey, don’t look now, but that guy over there has the angriest eyebrows i’ve ever seen.” the bartender leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “boyfriend?”

“what?” ellie turned around and followed the line of his gaze. 

sure enough, colt was glaring at them from the booth with the rest of their friends, his eyebrows drawn together thunderously. 

“oh my god, no,” she said, turning back around as quickly as possible, “never. we don’t even like each other.”

“right. well -- listen. if you do wanna pick this up some other time, here’s my number, okay? no pressure.” 

she watched, dumbfounded, as he wrote it down on a cocktail napkin, printing his name evenly below it. ben. 

all the girls cheered for her when she got back to the table.

“is that a phone number?” julia demanded, her grin wide and wickedly sharp. she reached over and plucked the napkin out of her hand. “jesus, ellie. you’ve been back in the city for, what, an afternoon?”

“give it,” she said, stepping forward as the rest of the girls passed it around the table, out of her reach, “oh my god, he was just being nice.”

“no, please,” gemma laughed, holding the napkin up over her head, “tell us again how you’re too busy to date.”

“i am too busy to date.” she bounced up on her toes and snatched the cocktail napkin out of her friend’s hand, folding it up and tucking it into the pocket of her jeans. “and i live across the country, remember?”

“hey, that doesn’t mean you can’t have some fun while you’re home this week, right?” brent asked, making her aware, all at once, that the guys were officially clued into their conversation, too. “speaking of, ryan moore keeps asking me about you.”

beyond brent’s shoulder, colt was still staring at her. he looked tense, his grip firm on the glass in his hand. his jaw was clenched tight.

“can we talk about something else?” ellie asked finally, lifting her wine glass to her flushed cheek. “my love life can’t be that interesting to you guys.”

logan reached out and ruffled her hair. “hey, you’re our last single friend. you can’t blame us for being invested.”

“colt’s single,” she reminded him, before she could bite her tongue. ellie risked another glance his way and found him scowling at her.

“colt doesn’t count,” ingrid interjected, “he doesn’t have any social skills. you are a catch. you just need to put yourself out there.”

“and i promise, once i have my ph.d, you can set me up with anyone you want.” a discussion they’d had at least a thousand times before. ingrid looked as pleased about it as she’d ever been, which was to say not very much at all. before she could respond, ellie continued, “hey, will someone please play pool with me? i haven’t shot in forever.”

to her surprise, colt offered, “i will.” ellie slowly turned towards him and found him smirking at her again. “who knows what’d happen to your virtue if you went over there alone?”

fucker. he’d probably volunteered to go with her on purpose -- now there was no way for her to get out of it. and if she stayed at the table for one minute longer she was going to scream.

her eyes narrowed at him. “thanks.”

colt set up the table like she wasn’t glaring at him bitterly, humming to himself while he racked the balls and then passed her a cue.

“you’re awful,” she said, as she snatched it out of his hands.

he just grinned at her. “thank you. break?”

ellie leaned over the table to line up her shot, knocking the cue into the balls. two of the solids slid into the corner pockets. her hip leaned against the table as she watched him survey the setup critically, and she took advantage of the fact that his eyes were elsewhere to study him in turn, making note of what was different about him since the last time they’d seen each other.

he’d recently gotten a haircut, but was otherwise unchanged -- he wore the same leather jacket, had the same smug smile, was still so insufferably arrogant she found talking to him pretty much impossible.

“so, what’s your deal?” he asked suddenly, pulling her from her thoughts and knocking the striped number eleven ball smoothly into one of the side pockets, “you a rocket scientist or whatever yet?”

ellie rolled her eyes, trying not to flush when he lifted his head and looked directly at her. despite his many, many flaws, she’d always found him unnervingly hot. “my degree is in chemistry. so -- no. i still have two more years in the program.”

“yeah, but what are you going to do with it? once you’re a doctor.” even the way he said the word sounding mocking. 

she ignored him in favor of focusing on the table, and knocked one of her balls in. once it was his turn to shoot, she answered, “if you need to know, my specialization is in environmental science. one day i’ll hopefully work alongside some of the best in the world to ensure environmental hazards are at an all time low.”

“so whaddya moving to miami for?” he asked, effortlessly sinking two balls into the pocket at once, “their environment is already pretty sweet.”

“the department is sending me to collect data from the water and air outside of the city,” she answered, her eyes on the table as she tried to locate her next best shot, “it’s for my dissertation. it’s only for the summer.”

“shame,” colt murmured, laughing under his breath when her next shot went wide, missing her target completely, “i’ll be stuck dealing with this mess on my own.”

“somehow i doubt that,” ellie said, “it’s only a timezone change. there’s still phones and video calls and plenty of ways for all of you to bother me.”

“only if you pick up.” smoothly, he sunk the last three striped balls, one after another. she scowled at him. “the way the rest of them talk about how hard you are to pin down you’d think you were the president or something.”

“i have a demanding course load,” she huffed out defensively, “so we should get started on planning their bachelor and bachelorette party before my flight back on sunday. that should be the only thing that’s still up in the air after all our appointments this week.”

“don’t even get me started on the concept of a joint bachelor party,” colt sighed, leaning over in front of the eight ball, “it’s going to be the lamest trip of all time. side pocket.”

“i don’t know,” ellie murmured, resting on her cue as the eight ball sailed effortlessly into the side pocket as indicated, “i think it’ll be fun.”

he straightened up and smirked at her, spreading his hands out wide as if to say look at me. what an asshole. “you would.” colt nodded at the table. his smirk lengthened. “looks like you still suck.”

ellie shoved her pool cue back into his open hand. “one thing you’ll never know,” she promised, spinning on her heel and striding back to the table as quickly as possible.

*

“thanks for all your help today,” ingrid said sweetly on the drive home. “i know it wasn’t easy -- dealing with my idiot sister and all of those guys.”

“colt was as terrible as ever,” she mused, officially thinking too much about it. “i don’t know how he never gets tired of himself. he is such a prick.”

“totally,” ingrid agreed, even though ellie knew she’d softened to him, lately -- though she wasn’t sure she’d ever understand why or how. “but he just picks on you because he likes you.”

ellie lifted her head from where it’d been leaning against the passenger side window and turned towards ingrid with a look of confusion contorting her expression. “what? no.”

“yes,” she insisted, “he’s wanted to bang you since freshman year.”

“okay -- you’re too drunk to be driving,” ellie laughed, though even she could hear the undercurrent of nerves in the tone of her voice, “he’s an asshole to everyone. it doesn’t have anything to do with me.”

“well, he sure doesn’t talk to me like he talks to you.”

ellie waved her hand dismissively. “because you and logan have been dating for, like, a hundred years. i’m positive he’s just as big a dick to gemma and julia and christie.”

“okay,” ingrid mouthed, arching her eyebrows at the road. 

she furrowed her brow. “he is.”

“forget i said anything,” ingrid said breezily as the car slowed to a stop in front of her dad’s house. “i’ll pick you up tomorrow at nine, okay? seriously, thanks again for all your help.”

“anytime.” 

dread filled her stomach as ellie dragged her feet up the path to the house. all the lights were on inside, which meant her dad was still awake. “hey pumpkin,” he greeted her, as soon as she toed off her shoes and dropped her bag, “long day?”

“you have no idea.” ellie walked straight to the sofa and flung herself down onto it face-first, groaning into the cushions. for a moment, it felt like she was back in high school, without a care in the world other than coursework and group projects and prom. she drew in a deep breath. “planning this wedding is going to be a headache.”

“you’ll pull through,” her dad assured her, “you always do.”

ellie pressed her forehead to the fabric of the couch and scowled, the freedom of her hair covering her face allowing her to express how she really felt. that was what everyone always said: she’d be fine. she’d figure it out. she’d make it happen.

part of her was so tired of always bending over backwards, always finding a way to make things work -- always being perfect. 

some first day back it was shaping up to be.

“i guess,” she mumbled, letting herself sulk for one more long moment before finally lifting her head and sitting up straight. “are you working tonight?”

“yep -- on my way out now. glad i caught you, though. i feel like i haven’t seen you in forever.” 

she winced, turning away from the disappointment in his eyes. “ingrid has a pretty full schedule for us this week, but maybe we can have dinner tomorrow.”

“sure thing,” her dad said brightly, pausing by the couch on his way out the door to gently grasp her shoulder. “i’ll see you in the morning, then. hang in there, kid.”

ellie slumped back into the couch, watching him go blankly. half of her was so exhausted she couldn’t imagine doing anything other than collapsing into bed for as long as humanly possible, but the other half of her still felt anxious and unsettled, the way she always did whenever she had to come home. 

being back in los angeles always felt like losing control of her life. there was something about being around her old friends and her dad and other people’s expectations that made her feel not like herself -- like some kind of persona she was putting on so everyone would perceive her a certain way.

so she could look like she had everything figured out, so everyone would keep saying you’ll pull through. you’ll figure it out. you’ll make it happen.

the thought of keeping it all up for an entire week of wedding activity with ingrid and their college friends was daunting. worse still was ingrid and logan’s engagement party on friday night, hanging over her head as the last obstacle between her and her flight home to the solace of her silent new york apartment, where she’d be able to analyze soil samples in peace until her mind was quiet again.

*

the week passed by in a blur. true to form, ingrid kept her busy for a majority of her waking moments with dress shopping, fittings, a trip to the venue, the florist and the bakery and, finally, last-minute preparations for friday’s engagement party, which left ellie tying ribbons around party favors late into the night on thursday.

“i could kill logan,” she complained to riya in the middle of the one free hour she’d been able to steal away for a mani-pedi, “i swear to god i’ve been playing the part of the fiance since i got back.”

“it’ll all be over soon,” riya hummed sympathetically, “the wedding will be here before you know it.”

as she dressed for the engagement party, she repeated the words to herself over and over again in the mirror. it’ll all be over soon.

she arrived at the venue early. the first person she saw after she stepped out of her rideshare was colt, who was loitering by the entrance to the restaurant, smoking. 

“some dress,” he smirked at her as soon as she got close enough to hear him, not even bothering to pretend like he wasn’t looking her up and down, “you trying to get laid tonight?”

“you know, ‘hello’ works just fine, too,” she said, pushing past him without a backwards glance. her face felt hot as she considered the comment, looking down at herself self-consciously. fuck him. i look nice.

fortunately, the party itself was less exhausting than she’d expected it to be. it was actually sort of nice to catch up with people she hadn’t seen since they’d graduated, and though she had to run through the familiar talk track she was getting sick of over and over again -- how’s school? how’s new york? what are your plans for after your thesis? -- the open bar made her hate it all a little less. 

eventually things started to wind down, until it was late and only the wedding party was left. ellie teetered in her heels as she pretended to help ingrid clean up, shuffling around as inconspicuously as she could manage, given the drinks she’d had.

“are you drunk?” 

she jumped, startled by the question. ellie’s lips pulled down into a frown as she noticed the out-and-out delighted expression on colt’s smug face from where he was suddenly standing next to her.

“no,” she lied, “and shhh. someone will hear you.”

“god forbid.” the shit eating grin on his face stretched further. “you want a ride home?”

ellie blinked. “from you?”

colt wasn’t at all deterred by the high arch of her eyebrows. he shrugged. “if we get out of here now we can probably avoid carrying presents to the car.”

that was all it took to convince her. she followed him out to the parking lot with a laugh, drawing up short when he stopped her in front of his motorcycle. she propped a hand on her hip and asked, “you still ride this thing?”

“it’s part of my image,” he answered, and as he came closer ellie found herself staring at the gentle slope of the smirk on his face. maybe it was the low lighting of the parking lot, but he looked a little softer than he had all week -- almost like when she’d first met him, in college, before he opened his mouth to say something rude and their relationship devolved into exchanged barbs and sidelong glares. 

colt cleared his throat, looking down at the helmet in his hands. “here.”

she flushed, pulling it on as quickly as possible in the hopes that it’d cover her face before he noticed. 

in all the years she’d known him she’d never actually gotten on the back of this thing. she’d seen him pull up to parties and speed away from them with plenty of girls holding onto his stomach, but she’d never actually thought she’d be one of them herself.

the bottle of wine she’d had was making it seem like no big deal, though, so she pressed up snugly behind him and rested her cheek on his shoulder like they’d done this enough times to form a habit.

and then they were back at her dad’s house, so quickly that ellie was almost sad about it. colt was actually mostly alright when he was quiet -- the speed of the bike hardly facilitated conversation -- and he was warm and solid against her while he drove, comforting her to the point that she was half asleep when they finally stopped.

she slid off the bike with a yawn, clumsily yanking the helmet off and handing it back to him. “thanks,” she murmured, glancing at the house and cringing once she realized all the lights were still on, meaning her dad was waiting up for her again. ellie lingered silently beside him, fidgeting. 

colt hesitated. after a moment, he killed the engine. he pulled his own helmet off so she could see his face. “you okay?”

“yeah.” she pursed her lips, then exhaled, blowing a messy lock of hair out of her eyes. “i guess i am a little drunk.”

his lips pulled back into that stupid, familiar smirk. “i know. i saw you guzzling chardonnays back there.” 

ellie leaned in over the handlebars. “stalk me much?”

“you wish.” 

movement in her peripheral vision caught her eye and ellie sighed as she saw the curtains shift. colt followed her gaze to the house, then turned back towards her with an eyebrow quirked.

“is there a reason you’re still standing here?”

she rolled her eyes at him. “it’s complicated.”

he laughed. it was after midnight, and the sleepy street she’d grown up on was completely silent and dark, save for that sound. “don’t tell me little miss perfect has daddy issues.”

“what, you thought you had the monopoly on them?” she shot back, too drunk to stop herself.

surprise flashed across his expression for a split second before he laughed again. “touché,” he murmured, “i probably deserved that.” 

ellie still didn’t move, standing at the front of the bike. they stared at each other, silence hanging in the air between them. it had to be the longest amount of time they’d gone without arguing since their freshman year. 

that felt like a lifetime ago, but she still remembered what she’d thought when they first met at orientation. 

cute, and then, once she found out that he was in the honors college like her, and smart, and eventually, once he opened his mouth, but a jerk. 

“what are you staring at?” he asked finally, and though he was difficult to read on even her best day, when she had one-hundred percent of her faculties intact, she was pretty sure there was no malice in his voice -- just genuine curiosity.

“nothing. you’re being weird.”

he laughed again. it took her a moment to realize why it sounded so different than it usually did; most of the time he was laughing at her. but not tonight. “no i’m not.”

“yes you are.”

“okay -- you’re trashed. do you need me to walk you inside?” 

all the lights were still on. yeah, that was just what she needed. the thought of colt and her father coming face-to-face made her own mouth curve into a grin. “no. but thanks for driving me home. that was almost decent of you.”

“well, i’d hate to be fully decent.” even his smile was different when he wasn’t making fun of her. 

ellie forced herself to take a step away, though it was difficult -- some strange magnetic pull seemed to want to keep her in his orbit, to see if she could maybe make him laugh softly at her again. 

as soon as she stepped back, the bike roared to life, though he didn’t pull out of the street until she’d wobbled all the way up the path to the front door and turned back to wave at him.

huh, she thought to herself as she ducked inside, wine-drunk acid swirling in her stomach with something else unidentifiable along for the ride, weird.

it wasn’t until she was tucked in bed that she privately acknowledged to herself, nice, though, too.

*

as expected, ingrid filled the weeks after her spring break with questions and complaining and dozens of skype calls.

ellie did her best to balance it all with school, which was ramping up as they got closer to the end of term, and packing for her move to miami, though on any given day she felt torn in at least ten different directions while she struggled to get everything together. 

the sound of another incoming facetime call was going to haunt her nightmares. with a groan, ellie fumbled for her phone blindly, not taking her eyes off the instant noodles slowly spinning in her microwave. 

“what now?”

“hello to you, too,” said a voice that definitely wasn’t ingrid’s, and ellie turned her head to see colt staring at her expectantly from the screen of her phone, jolting both from the surprise of seeing him and the sound of the microwave going off. 

“colt?” she blinked, suddenly aware that she was in her pajamas and tugging self-consciously at the cropped tank top she was wearing. “what do you want?”

“we have to go over some things for the bachelor party,” he sighed, and when he shifted she saw that he was reclining in bed. her face flushed.

“bachelor and bachelorette party,” she corrected.

“whatever. is now a good time?”

ellie cast a glance around her apartment, which looked like a tornado had recently swept through it. her kitchen table was covered in textbooks and pages of notes, though the living room had half-packed boxes covering every available surface. “i guess. one second.”

she set her phone down to retrieve her instant noodles and then leaned it up against her toaster, standing in front of the counter to both stay in her phone’s field of view and shovel noodles into her mouth as quickly as possible.

“seriously?” colt said, “isn’t it ten p.m. where you are?”

“i’ve been busy,” ellie answered defensively, between bites, “some of us have lives.”

he rolled his eyes. “did you book your flight yet?”

she paused, fork halfway to her lips. had she booked her flight yet? “i think so.” ellie pursed her lips, and then remembered, “yes! it gets in at seven. i’ll meet you guys at the hotel.”

“okay. the rest of us are driving down together, god help us all.” he scowled.

“relax. it’s only, like, four hours to vegas, anyway.” she was the one who was going to lose two entire days to travel and timezone changes. 

“do you want to sit in a car for four hours with everyone?” he smirked at the look that crossed her face. “i didn’t think so. how are the dinner reservations coming along?”

“good,” she nodded. at least she’d remembered to do that. “we’re all set for friday and saturday night. we can walk to both restaurants from the hotel.”

colt had been adamant about planning everything else, and she’d been all too happy to let him take the reigns. the last thing she needed to worry about was getting them into nightclubs and securing bottle service and busting her ass only for him to ultimately turn his nose up at it and declare the whole thing lame. 

“that should be everything, then.” she just barely saw the way he narrowed his eyes at her when she tipped her head back to get the last of the styrofoam cup of noodles down her throat. “except for whatever girly shit you have planned.”

“hey, you’re going to have to be the one to tell logan that your bad attitude is what got all of you excluded from mani-pedis and facials,” she shrugged, resting her elbows on the counter and leaning in toward the screen. “just so you can do what on saturday? smoke cigars and play darts?”

“someone has to draw the line somewhere,” he said, revisiting the argument they’d had at least four or five times since she was home the month before. 

“you’re impossible,” she sighed, her mouth stretching with a wide yawn. ellie pulled a face at herself, shaking her head. she had at least another two hours of coursework to do once they hung up. 

“you’re the one who looks about ten seconds away from combusting,” he smirked. “you can say no to things, you know.”

“i’m fine,” she insisted, “and i do say ‘no’ to things. when i have to.”

“right. it’s not like we haven’t known each other for eight years or anything.” 

ellie rolled her eyes at him, her cheeks still flushed red. like he’d paid attention to anyone other than himself and whatever girl he was fucking when they were in college. “everything’ll calm down after the wedding.”

“whatever you say,” he shrugged, “just don’t miss your flight to vegas, okay? i’m going to need someone to talk to who doesn’t make me want to blow my brains out.”

what? colt hung up just as she opened her mouth to respond, leaving ellie staring at her phone background in confusion. 

she took one last glance around her apartment, slowly trailing her eyes over the dishes in the sink, the schoolwork on her kitchen table, the piles of shoes that had to be bubble-wrapped and boxed up in her living room.

then ellie turned on her heel and headed off to bed. for once, it felt pretty fucking good to do the wrong thing. 

*

when her flight got in she sent logan a long, detailed text with all the information he could possibly need -- what time her rideshare was going to get to the hotel and how much time she was going to need to get up to the room and get changed -- and asked where she should meet everyone when she was done. 

his response was two short words. casino. craps. typical.

she rushed to get into her dress and get some makeup on and found everyone standing around the same table when she got downstairs. of course, the only available space was just to colt’s left. ellie squeezed in with a grin. “hi!”

“hey, you made it!” eager cheers from around the table greeted her and the tight hugs she was forced into let her know that she had a backlog a few drinks deep to catch up on. 

when she turned back around, colt shoved his hand in her face. there was a pair of dice sitting in his palm. “blow,” he said, staring at her expectantly. 

“excuse me?”

“blow,” he repeated, smirking at her, “it’s for luck.”

“i’m not going to --”

“come on, ellie,” logan grinned, “he’s up, like, two thousand dollars. you have to!”

“this is so demeaning,” she grumbled, but pursed her lips and blew on the dice as requested. colt stared at her the entire time, not even breaking eye contact to roll.

it was only when the croupier said, “another easy eight,” and the table broke out into cheers that he looked away, directing his gaze down at the stack of chips that was pushed over to him. 

“okay, what’s the next one?” he asked, taking the dice into his hand again.

“huh?”

“what am i rolling?”

“oh.” ellie glanced around the table and found everyone looking at her expectantly. “seven.”

“okay, any seven.” colt shook the dice in his hand, then held them out to her again. “come on.”

she leaned in a little closer. “you know, i’d love a drink at some point.”

“if we get this one i’ll find you a whole bottle of dom,” he promised. “blow.”

ellie blew on the dice. she grabbed colt’s arm anxiously as they waited for them to land.

they did, a moment later. she craned her neck and saw them facing up, over the line -- five and two.

all the noise they were making was starting to draw a crowd. ellie found herself sharing a grin with colt when he looked back at her again.

“another seven,” she instructed, head already bowed towards his hand.

he rolled a three and a four. the people gathering around the table were enraptured.

she blew on the dice again. a one and a six.

the forearm of his jacket had indents where her hand kept grabbing at it frantically, but colt never showed any outward signs of nervousness. if anything, he seemed to get more and more excited as ellie called out the numbers and he rolled them, one after another -- an eight. a six. a ten. another seven.

“holy shit, that’s twenty thousand dollars,” ingrid breathed finally, her mouth open in shock.

colt picked the stack of chips up, nodding at the roulette table behind them. “come on.”

“where are we going?” ellie asked, but followed him to the table anyway, her heart racing. all of their friends fell in line around them, hushed. 

“we’re gonna double it,” he smirked. “red or black?”

“you’re going to bet it all?” her eyes went comically wide.

“ellie, red or black?”

everyone within hearing distance, including the attendant, was staring at her. she looked down at the table, and then at the screen, which was displaying the outcome of the last few rounds. her mind raced as she tried to calculate all the ways it could become more complex than just a fifty-fifty probability.

colt noticed her staring and shook his head at her. “just pick.”

“black,” she blurted out, and watched in horror as he dropped the entire stack of chips down onto her choice. “oh my god, i’m going to throw up.”

his arm wound around her waist as the ball dropped into the table and started to roll around. instead of recoiling, ellie held onto him in return, digging her nails into the fabric of his suit as she stared.

there was dead silence at the table when the ball dropped neatly into the slot.

“twenty-nine,” the dealer announced, smiling at the both of them. “black.”

sound exploded all around them. their friends were jumping all over colt and the table, clapping him on the back, cheering and screaming. the spectators who’d been watching them joined in, and ellie couldn’t stop a deliriously joyful laugh from escaping as she looked, beaming, from the stack of chips on the table to colt’s face.

he was already grinning at her, and reached out to shove her shoulder excitedly before pulling the chips off the board and towards their end of the table -- four stacks of ten.

logan pushed between them, a beer bottle dangling from his fingers. “jesus christ. that was insane. way to make an entrance, el.”

“me?” she demanded incredulously, “what kind of person puts twenty thousand dollars on black?”

“what can i say,” colt shrugged, eyes still bright when they settled on her again, “i’m reckless.”

well, that was the understatement of the century. she slowly shook her head as the rest of the players at the table moved on to the next round. “i can’t believe that just happened.” 

colt reached out and grabbed her wrist, then unceremoniously dropped five chips into her palm. “here. your cut.”

ellie blinked down at her hand like she’d never seen a casino chip before. “five thousand dollars?”

“hey, all you did was blow on some dice.”

“no, i --” she shook her head, trying to shove the chips back onto his pile with a laugh, “you don’t need to do that. it was fun.”

he shrugged. ellie watched in surprise as colt smiled at her, fixated on the upturned corners of his mouth. “whatever. remember i did the next time you’re pissed at me.” 

colt walked off before she could try giving the money back to him again. she stared down at the chips in her hand for a moment, staring at all the zeroes that looked back up at her.

if what had just happened was any indication, it was probably going to be a strange weekend.

*

after dinner they went to a nightclub. her buzz was kicking in, so the lights and the music hardly bothered her as much as they might have on a normal night, and though she was loathe to admit it, colt had actually done a pretty nice job setting everything up. they had a booth to themselves and bottle service with sparklers, themed shots and props for both logan and ingrid -- sashes and buttons and crowns for the both of them.

seeing how happy everyone was made all the aggravation of the last six weeks worth it. before she knew it, she’d had more shots than was probably wise and her feet were killing her from dancing, leaving her flushed and sweaty when she stumbled back to the table.

as soon as she sat down, ingrid rushed over and grabbed her arm. “come on! i want to introduce you to a hot guy!”

“no,” ellie moaned, digging her heels into the booth while ingrid tried to drag her out of it, “stop, we’ve been dancing for hours. i need five minutes.”

“okay, but he’s so hot,” ingrid insisted, “and you could get laid tonight!”

“or we could just enjoy your bachelorette party!” she screamed back, over the music, “that’d be so fun, too.”

“oh my god, you’re impossible,” ingrid sighed, dropping down dramatically into the booth beside her. "look, he’s right over there.” 

ellie followed the line of her eyes and saw an admittedly very hot guy standing with a few of their friends. she lifted her hand and waved at him, and he smiled charmingly back at her, waving in return.

from behind her hand, when she pulled it in to cover her mouth, ellie said to ingrid, “he looks kind of stupid.”

“oh my god,” ingrid groaned again, “forget it. i’m done trying to set you up.”

before she could argue further, logan ran over to refill his drink and pulled ingrid back up to her feet, dragging her away from the booth and back onto the dance floor.

ellie watched them go, then turned her eyes to the half-full bottle of vodka in the ice bucket on the table. she was in the middle of trying to decide whether or not she was one drink away from puking when colt walked up to her.

“hey, loser. you wanna dance?” he asked, just as she made up her mind and reached for the bottle. he wasn’t loud enough to be heard over the music, but ellie could see the shape of his mouth make each word clearly, mostly because she tilted her head up to stare at him in complete confusion as soon as he got close. 

“with you?” 

“i thought you were supposed to be smart,” he said, and she recognized the easy grin on his face from dozens of late nights out with all their friends in college; he was drunk. “come on.”

she stumbled to her feet and followed him without thinking too much about it, even though there was no way their friends weren’t looking at them as they found a spot on the dance floor together. 

“you know how to dance?” ellie asked, blinking down at colt’s hands, which settled confidently on her waist, in absolute, total surprise, “since when?”

“since always,” he answered, lowering his mouth to her ear, “you just repress all my positive traits.”

“you don’t have any positive traits,” she shot back, though she gave in and wound her arms around his neck a moment later, letting him pull her in close.

“ouch,” colt murmured softly into her ear, and ellie sunk her teeth into her bottom lip at the low tone of his voice and its proximity. “that really hurts.”

her head tipped back to stare up at the flashing lights in the ceiling. colt didn’t say anything -- of course, he loved to get the last word -- and after a moment she forgot how utterly strange it was to be close to him at all and let herself enjoy the dance, smoothly moving her hips against his.

it was unnatural how natural it felt. she was dancing with colt kaneko -- it should have felt insane. they didn’t dance together. they didn’t get along. 

except that evidently they did, and she kind of liked it, too. 

when he dragged everyone out of the nightclub at three o’clock in the morning he wouldn’t tell them where they were going. even ellie was surprised to hear about a planned part two of the evening, though the way he seamlessly swiped a bottle of dom perignon from a table they passed on their way to the door and presented it to her as soon as they stepped back into the lobby of the hotel made her laugh with her whole body.

“you didn’t even pay for it,” she grinned, cradling it in her arms like a baby. 

he looked around, then started leading everyone down a side hallway. “i never said i would. hang on.”

logan caught on as soon as they all stopped in front of the fancy glass doors marked pool, and ellie kept watch at the end of the hallway while the two of them worked to get the door open. one by one, their friends filed quietly inside to the hotel’s closed indoor pool, giggling while they stripped out of their clothes.

“this feels illegal,” ellie said, while ingrid helpfully lowered the zip on her dress for her, “no?”

“it’s only a crime if you get caught,” logan answered, running past and jumping in the pool directly in front of where they were standing at its edge, splashing them both.

“oh, you’re in for it,” ingrid promised, jumping off after him. 

ellie self-consciously pulled her dress off the rest of the way, walking over to the steps and wading into the shallow end carefully. she swam out to join the rest of the group, head spinning from the drinks she’d had.

“hey.”

she turned around and came face-to-face with colt again, staring at what she could see of his bare chest, sticking out of the dark water before averting her eyes with a flush. “we’re totally all going to jail,” she said, apropos of nothing.

“that’s the plan,” colt returned, still smiling that easy, open smile. but he’d always been a lot more fun to hang out with when he was drunk. 

“why’re you being so nice to me?” ellie asked abruptly, reaching out to hold onto the pool wall and treading water to stay afloat in front of him. “it’s weird.”

colt laughed. his own arm braced on the side of the pool beside hers, and she looked over at the way the water slid of his muscles, her mouth suddenly dry. 

“guess i like the reactions i get,��� he answered, effortlessly short-circuiting her brain as she tried to figure out what the fuck that was supposed to mean. “plus, it looks like you’re my good luck charm.”

“that was pretty crazy,” she acknowledged with a soft smile of her own, “i’ve never done anything like that before.” in fact, it’d been almost more excitement than she could handle.

“there’s so much i could show you.” 

the look in his eyes was intense -- searching. she wasn’t sure what to say, but fortunately the noise from the rest of their friends splashing around covered the too-loud pounding of her heartbeat as he stood there staring down at her.

it was the most alive she’d felt in months. before tonight, she hadn’t even thought she’d want a break from her routine -- from school, from her work, from everything that made her her.

wading in the pool now, with colt, all she wanted was more.

before she could find something to say, logan and brent swam by, kicking up water with a splash. “come on!” logan called out as a wave of chlorinated water hit her smack dab in the face, “we’re doing back flips.”

she forced her eyes down and swam off after them, hurrying to put some space between them. 

drunk as she was, it was a struggle to even stay afloat.

*

the semester wrapped up quickly; before she knew it, it was time to start shipping her things down to miami. ellie saw and heard from everyone less and less as she finished her coursework and switched into summer mode, even as the date of logan’s wedding grew closer.

finally it was time to hand her keys over to the girl who’d be subletting her apartment for the summer and catch her flight; when she stepped off the plane she forgot, for a moment, that she wasn’t home in los angeles -- it was humid and sunny and everyone around her looked happy, a far cry from the scene she’d left behind at jfk.

ellie went straight to her summer housing and checked in, a little astonished by how nice the apartment was. there was a pool in the back of the building and the beach was only a short walk away; there were floor-to-ceiling windows exposing the view to her and illuminating every last one of the boxes she’d have to unpack where they were cluttering her new living room floor.

her eyes landed on one marked kitchen stuff and ellie tore into it, using her keys to rip the tape. the still-sealed bottle of dom perignon from the bachelorette party was sitting on top of everything else, wrapped in bubble wrap.

the trip or the heat had probably made it go flat but she pulled it out anyway, sitting on the floor and popping the cork. ellie took a sip from the bottle and grimaced -- all expensive alcohol was disgusting.

she set it on the floor and took a photo for her pictagram story anyway, the boxes and the view in the background. it was only up for a few seconds before her phone screen lit up with an incoming message.

it was colt. dork was all he’d written, when she opened her direct messages. the little animation beneath his words indicated he was typing something else. how is it?

pretty bad she wrote back honestly.

guess i’ll have to work harder to impress you

she stared down at her phone, rereading the words twice before she huffed out a genuine laugh. ellie had been avoiding checking in with most of her friends while she focused on moving, but it felt pretty nice to talk to colt again. the new peace that had settled between them had admittedly been a welcome respite, distracting her from every stressor in her life. 

with a shake of her head, she gave in and wrote back guess so.

*

everyone in the wedding was spending the entire weekend in santa monica, and ellie was grateful for the opportunity to avoid awkward conversation with her dad, heading straight to the hotel when she flew in on the morning of the rehearsal dinner.

things were already in full swing even though it was early in the day when she arrived; though she was exhausted from her flight and the work she’d left behind on the east coast ellie still let ingrid pull her up to her suite to start getting ready together.

one by one the rest of their friends started to trickle in, chatting excitedly about the wedding the next day, and eventually, after they’d gone over saturday’s schedule at least a thousand times, it was late enough in the afternoon that she had to go back to her own hotel room to get dressed for dinner.

ellie was the first of the girls to finish getting ready and logan and the rest of the guys were already downstairs at the lobby bar when she came out of the elevator. logan pulled her into a hug as soon as she got close, kissing her cheek hello.

“are you so excited?” she asked, squeezing his arms, “big day tomorrow.”

“i can’t wait. i know we did this fast but it still feels like we’ve been waiting for forever.” he looked adorably eager. “you look nice, by the way.”

“thank you,” ellie said primly, stepping out of his arms to spin in a circle, the skirt of her dress swishing around the tops of her thighs, “not half bad for an all-nighter and a cross-country flight, eh?”

“thanks for flying out so early. i’m so glad you’re here.” logan called the bartender over as she moved down the line to say hi to the rest of the groomsmen, and when she came back around to his other side to accept the drink he held out to her she noticed there was one person missing from the group.

“where’s colt?”

logan arched an eyebrow at her. her face flushed pink, and then worsened when that voice she could pick out of a crowd said from behind her, “miss me?”

the smart remark that was waiting on the tip of her tongue died when she turned around and saw him. he always wore formalwear well, but something about how he was dressed tonight captured her attention in a way that was impossible to ignore. she swallowed.

“just wondering if tonight might actually be peaceful or not,” she said finally, lifting her eyes from the few buttons that were open on his shirt at the front of his throat to look him in the eyes. “i guess it won’t be.”

he shrugged, leaning around her to signal the bartender for a drink of his own. “i promised i’d behave this weekend.” 

“yeah, and you’d better follow through or ingrid’s going to come after us both,” logan grinned, waiting until colt had his glass in his hand before sticking his own in between the three of them. “cheers.”

“cheers,” ellie smiled, clinking her champagne flute delicately against the two rocks glasses in their hands, “congratulations. i’m so happy for you guys.”

“you can back out at any time,” colt said, and then, as ingrid finally walked over and hit him on the shoulder, “ow. what? you can back out, too.”

she linked her arm through logan’s, tilting her face up for a kiss. “no one’s backing out. come on.”

they filed into the restaurant, where everyone’s families were already waiting at one end of the long table. ellie sat down on ingrid’s right and came face-to-face with colt, who was sitting directly across from her at logan’s left. he smirked at her from the other side of the table, bumping his foot into hers underneath the tablecloth. 

she kicked him back, turning her cheek to stifle a smile when she saw him wince as soon as her high heel collided with his shin. 

dinner was surprisingly pleasant, making her cautiously optimistic for the way the rest of the weekend was going to go. tomorrow was sure to be exhausting, with a full day of primping and photos before the ceremony and reception, and the after party following late into the night, if she knew their group of friends at all.

but it’d probably be pretty fun, too. at least she could start drinking heavily as soon as her toast was over.

though she was woefully sober after the cake had been cut and the night started to wind down, certain that a hangover would be a wrench in tomorrow morning she just didn’t need, with the day ahead of her. 

they all took their time saying goodbye and slowly started to head to the elevator. just outside the restaurant door, colt caught her elbow and asked, “wanna go for a walk?”

she stared back at him dumbly. why? “huh?”

“come on, the beach is right there.” his hand slid down her bare arm to curl around her wrist, and he tugged her towards the french doors that would lead them outside onto the hotel’s back patio before she could protest.

ellie slipped off her shoes as they moved down the steps and out into the sand, silent when they both walked off down the beach together. the stretch owned by the hotel was private and closed for the night, so they were the only two people making their way down to the ocean, though she still wasn’t exactly sure for what. 

“how’ve you been?” she asked finally, when it felt like it’d been quiet for too long.

“fine. how are your... water samples?” 

her eyebrows arched. part of her was amazed he’d remembered, and a little warmed by his thoughtfulness. “um, good,” she answered slowly, “well -- not good, they’re contaminated, but... good for me? to have something to study?”

out of the corner of her eye, ellie saw his lips twitch. it was good to know he still found her embarrassment amusing. “that’s good.”

“are you nervous for your speech tomorrow?” she asked, because she was certainly nervous about hers. his smile spread.

“no.” he’d long since let go of her arm, but colt still only shoved the hand on the other side of his body into his pocket, letting his other arm dangle near hers. “i’m just gonna wing it.”

“you’re going to -- i’m sorry, what?” she demanded, completely horrified. “you cannot just wing it.”

“well, i’m going to,” he shrugged, “so don’t lose sleep over it.”

“oh my god,” ellie groaned, “i feel sick just thinking about it. please tell me you’re joking.”

“you know i’m not,” he laughed, that same soft sound from the night of logan and ingrid’s engagement party, when he’d given her a ride home. her cheeks flushed just thinking about it. “don’t you ever get tired of being so self-righteous?”

“no,” she sniffed, “don’t you ever get tired of being so...”

ellie trailed off as she searched for the right word. colt stopped suddenly and turned in the sand to face her, grinning widely when their eyes locked. “so what?”

arrogant. smug. obnoxious. insufferable. reckless. “so...” she paused, tongue darting out to lick her lips, “well --”

colt leaned in and kissed her before she could decide which word she wanted to settle on. the hand that’d been in his pocket landed on her waist, and he lifted the other to her jaw, cradling her cheek in his palm when he pulled her closer to meet his lips.

she froze. part of her had been expecting this, though it still felt so unbelievably beyond imagining -- colt kaneko was kissing her after they’d spent the last eight years at each other’s throats, and tenderly, too, his lips soft and gentle when they brushed against hers.

ellie sighed quietly into his mouth, then looped her arm around him and kissed him back, sliding her fingers into his hair at the back of his head. 

he was a good kisser. not that she’d thought about it, or anything, outside of one or two times --

fine, a few times... 

colt snaked his arm fully around her waist and pressed his body in against hers as close as they could get; there was only the sound of the waves on the shore while they kissed for what felt like an eternity, with all the familiarity of two people who’d done this dozens of times before.

there was something about being alone with him that eased the tension being home always brought with it. something about the new calmness in their relationship reminded her of her apartment and new york and the places she’d always felt most like herself, almost like colt understood her and the things she wanted to say but wouldn’t without her even having to say them. 

finally, his thumb pressed into the hinge of her jaw and he broke them apart, tipping his forehead against hers to stare into her eyes.

in the dark, with the moon behind him, the depths of his gaze consumed her entirely. ellie worked to catch her breath while staring back at him seriously, though there was surely some shock on her expression.

“um,” she said finally. “i --”

he swept her into another kiss and she was grateful for the chance to collect her thoughts before being expected to say something, though every last one she had left her abruptly when their lips met again. all she could focus on was how good the kiss was -- how it felt like giving into something she’d been holding off on allowing for far too long. 

this time, when he pushed her away, he spoke up. “do you want me to apologize?”

ellie realized her fingers were still curled into his hair and forced them to relax. she dropped her hand onto his shoulder. “no.” her eyes lingered on the minute upturn at the corners of his mouth. “an explanation would be helpful, though.”

the hand colt had on the small of her back dipped lower. she raised her eyebrows at him again. “i want to spend the night with you,” he said bluntly, “if you want.”

she pretended to think about it, even though she already knew what her answer would be. judging by the look on colt’s face, he knew she was only acting, too, though he stayed quiet for once and let her go through the motions of looking back at the hotel in thoughtful consideration. “yeah,” she said finally, with a nod, “let’s go to your room.”

*

colt’s room was on the other side of the hotel, and he’d forgotten to pull the heavy-duty shades shut the night before, so the sun filtered in through the gauzy curtains and hit her in the face early, waking her up before she was ready.

ellie rubbed at her eyes and took in the sight before her: the muscled arm slung across her waist was attached to a set of broad shoulders and a sculpted torso, though colt was sleeping on his stomach so she could only see his back, the sheet draped low over his hips. 

his face was squished into the pillow and he was still peacefully asleep, his breathing even and quiet beside her.

she stared at him for a few seconds before a deep sense of dread started to set in, filling her with slowly dawning horror.

you slept with colt kaneko! her brain screamed unhelpfully at her, like she didn’t already know. what the fuck were you thinking?

okay. this was fixable. all she had to do was get to her clothes and get out of his room before he woke up. she could make it back to her suite before anyone noticed she was gone, right? 

his body stirred beside her as soon as she shifted to the edge of the mattress. ellie watched colt’s arm slip off her waist and stared as his eyes slowly blinked open, his jaw cracking with a yawn. “hey,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep and perfectly cozy-sounding, halting her progress out of the bed and almost enough to make her turn right back around. “what time is it?”

“seven,” she returned just as quietly, and he flopped back against the pillow with a groan, scrubbing a hand down his face.

“the fuck are you doing up?” he grumbled. “christ.”

ellie shifted another inch to the edge of the bed. “we need to all start getting ready soon. pictures are at two.”

“it’s seven,” he sighed, “she can’t possibly expect you to --”

“she does.”

colt groaned again, louder this time. he rolled onto his back and pressed both palms against his face, then pushed his hands through his hair. “we’ll get up in ten minutes,” he declared decisively, dropping his cheek into the side of the pillow. his eyes were half-lidded when they landed on her. “come here.”

ellie hesitated at the edge of the bed, biting her lip. 

that was probably a mistake. 

she cleared her throat, averting her eyes. maybe all of this had been a mistake. it was so unlike her -- flirting with him, kissing him on the beach, having a one night stand. he’d never even liked her before she started doing all of these things that felt so wildly out of character for her. in fact, he’d always hated her. 

what the fuck did he think they were doing, anyway? 

panic was starting to set in, hot and desperate. “i should really get going,” she said, then stood and snatched her dress up off the floor before she could be sucked in by the curve of him against the mattress. “ingrid’s going to wonder where i am.”

there was complete and total silence as she pulled her clothes back on quickly, piece by piece. finally, colt said, “okay. i’ll see you later.”

his voice was slow -- carefully measured. ellie didn’t look at him before double checking to make sure she had her phone and room key and nodding blindly in the direction of the bed, doing her best to keep her voice faux-chipper. “totally,” she called out mindlessly, rushing out the door.

her chest squeezed tight with anxiety and refused to relent for the entirety of the morning. ellie found herself fighting off a meltdown through hair and makeup, through hours of gushing over ingrid and how beautiful she looked, through a session with the photographer in the bridal suite. 

her thoughts were elsewhere during the group photos with everyone. it took every effort not to look colt’s way when they all got together before the ceremony to take so many pictures her face was hurting from maintaining her fake smile.

still, her mind drifted. the part of her that was adamant she’d made the right decision couldn’t seem to quiet the little voice beneath it wondering what if, her curiosity needling her brain incessantly. 

now she’d never know what he might’ve been about to say or do. she wouldn’t have to deal with the reality of having two pieces of her life that didn’t fit together -- new york and school and los angeles and colt -- because there was no knowing if anything would’ve even come from it.

maybe that’s for the best, said the larger, more rational part of her brain. 

all the excuses she’d used a thousand times before came back to her at once. she was too busy to date, probably, and ill-equipped to have a boyfriend. guys she’d dated in the past had complained about her being hot and cold, either clingy or distant depending on where she was with school or in her professional life. the only parts of herself she could actually tolerate most of the time seemed to be the biggest turn-offs: she was too driven, too focused on her passion projects. 

each word felt hollow, now. maybe she hadn’t done the right thing.

ellie’s pulse raced dangerously as everyone lined up at the edge of the cliff for the outdoor ceremony. she and colt stood just behind logan, side-by-side. 

he wasn’t looking at her. her stomach twisted unhappily. 

she gently reached out to touch his arm. her voice was barely a murmur when she leaned in close and said, “hey, can i talk to you?”

colt looked down at her like she was insane. in front of them, logan started down the aisle. “now’s not really a good time.”

fuck. she was almost definitely going to lose her nerve, but he was right. she pursed her lips, looping her arm through his. her free hand clutched her flowers tightly.

colt felt stiff beside her, at odds with the easy way he’d held her last night. she used all her focus not to trip as they walked down the aisle together and then separated on either side of the altar, the both of them looking anywhere else but at each other.

fortunately, the ceremony provided a welcome distraction from her swirling thoughts. logan and ingrid had written their own vows, and she cried the entire time they spoke to each other, tears silently dripping down her cheeks as she watched two of her oldest friends profess their love.

even the poem ingrid’s sister read made her heart skip a beat, her bottom lip wobbling through the ceremony until the officiant finally pronounced them husband and wife.

ellie was still smiling through tears after they’d kissed and started back down the aisle together. she forgot to be nervous about walking with colt until he took her arm in his and said, “seriously?”

then everything that had happened rushed back to her at once, and she was uneasy and miserable again.

“come on,” ellie sniffed, dabbing delicately at her eyes, “that was beautiful.”

“it was something,” he mumbled, so quietly the excited din of the crowd nearly drowned him out. “i’ll catch up with you later.”

he dropped her arm as soon as he possibly could, disappearing into the venue. ellie watched everyone through the glass windows for a moment before following him inside with a sigh.

bathroom, then bar. even if the first thing she needed was a large glass of wine, the absolute last thing she needed was smudged mascara. everything else could wait.

*

it was almost the end of the cocktail hour when logan found her at the bar. ellie grinned at him wholeheartedly and passed him the champagne flute she’d taken for herself, signaling for another.

“thanks,” he said, reaching out to squeeze her arm, “like, a thousand people have already tried talking to me. you never told me this was going to be so exhausting.”

“getting married is a huge deal,” ellie laughed, “of course every single person here wants to talk to you. you’re going to be making the rounds all night.”

“just -- keep me occupied for a few more minutes,” he said, gaze darting around the room, “make it look like we’re having a really serious talk. start with whatever put that look on your face.”

“i don’t have a look on my face,” she argued, though she knew it was futile.

logan arched his eyebrows at her. “ellie.”

“what?” she asked. she shuffled her feet anxiously and then continued, “look, i’m sure colt already told you we slept together last night, so --”

logan started coughing, spitting champagne back into his glass. he set it down on the bar with wide eyes. “oh my god, you what?”

ellie felt her own eyes bug out to match. “he didn’t tell you?”

“no,” logan hissed, then coughed again. “what do you mean you slept together last night?”

“um,” ellie started, her voice high as she swiveled her eyes to the ceiling, “well...”

“jesus, i can’t believe he finally went for it.”

she slowly lowered her gaze back to his. her brow furrowed in confusion. “what?”

“oh, man. he’s liked you for forever. i didn’t think he was ever going to...” logan trailed off as he caught sight of the expression on her face, which cycled from confusion to realization to horror so quickly it made her head spin. “wait, how’d you guys leave it?”

“um,” she said again, cringing, “well...”

“yikes.” logan matched her look with a wince. “you should probably talk to him.”

she wandered into the ballroom as if in a daze. ellie found her seat at the table with the bridal party and breathed a sigh of relief once she noticed colt was far away from her at the other end -- at least ingrid had done her one favor. 

after the toast, she told herself with a nod, i’ll talk to him. 

after the toast she could have the hard drink she’d need to get through the conversation. they could take a few minutes to themselves.

but first she had to actually get through the toast, and that meant sitting politely while colt gave the best man speech, which he did unflappably well, of course, even though he hadn’t prepared for it at all.

ellie was reminded all at once what’d made her hate him in the first place: colt was good at everything without having to worry about it. in college, he’d effortlessly pulled perfect grades in even the most impossible classes; tonight was no different. he made jokes that landed perfectly with the crowd, getting the appropriate amount of laughs, and finished with something surprisingly sentimental that garnered lots of applause -- both ingrid and logan beamed at him when he sat down again.

and she had to go next.

she pointedly ignored him as she stood with her glass. “hey, everyone. i’m ellie. for those of you who don’t know me, ingrid and i met on the very first day of college -- eight years ago. i’d just turned eighteen and i was away from home for the first time. i actually bumped into ingrid in the parking lot...”

ellie hit all the marks, too: what she loved about her friends, what made them perfect for each other. “-- and i knew he was the one just from the way she’d talk about him. she always got so giddy, it was like there was a whole other side of her i’d never seen before. every day she’d have something new to say about him: ‘oh, logan said this,’ and, ‘oh, logan showed me that’ --”

everyone was crying by the time she wrapped up. ingrid blew her a kiss as she lifted her glass into the air, and ellie grinned brightly back at her and logan before the band came back on and she could finally sit down again.

the girls around her were gushing about how good her toast had been, but ellie leaned around them to catch colt’s eye at the other end of the table.

her eyebrows lifted meaningfully. she nodded at the dance floor.

colt rolled his eyes. she watched him shake his head.

ellie thrust her bottom lip out into a pout. 

he looked sort of close to smiling, setting a swarm of butterflies loose in her stomach. it was both better and more dangerous than the thought of him being angry at her had been. later, he mouthed, turning away before she could frown at him any harder.

that was fine. it’d give her a little more time to work up her nerve -- hopefully.

she grabbed ingrid on her way back to the bar.

“oh my god, i can’t believe you,” ingrid sighed, squeezing her tight in a huge hug, “that was only the most beautiful toast of all time. you ruined my makeup, you bitch!”

“okay, you still look perfect,” ellie argued, squeezing her hand, “you’re the most beautiful bride ever. don’t even start.”

ingrid sighed wistfully, looking off towards the sweetheart table at the front of the ballroom. “i am pretty beautiful, huh?”

“are you kidding?” ellie demanded, “the whole thing was gorgeous.”

ingrid’s grin sharpened. out of nowhere, she said, “logan told me you totally fucked colt last night.”

“shhhh!” ellie cast a glance around desperately, but they were blessedly alone at the bar. “oh my god, i didn’t --”

“yeah, right. why didn’t you tell me?!”

“it’s your wedding day,” she laughed, “i wanted to -- i don’t know. it just happened, it was weird.”

“what’s he like?” she asked, passing ellie a glass of champagne.

“can we not do this?” ellie ducked her head behind the glass, trying to hide her flushed face. “isn’t it time for your first dance?”

ingrid waved her hand dismissively. “in a minute. so? spill!”

“oh my god, it was obviously incredible,” she mumbled into her champagne, “now get out of my face, this is exactly why i didn’t tell you.”

“fine, but we are so not done talking about this.” she reached out and tugged on one of the neat curls of her hair before linking her arm through ellie’s to walk back to the front of the ballroom together. “and you’d better save me a dance.”

*

she didn’t get her moment alone with colt until after the entrees. ellie had given up on trying to catch his eye, so she was surprised when he walked over and said, “i’ll take that dance, now, if you can stop crying long enough to make it happen.”

“people with souls cry at weddings,” she huffed, standing and taking his hand in hers, “i’m sorry you can’t relate.”

“you’re forgiven,” he smirked, so that she could almost pretend there was absolutely nothing weird going on between them as they walked out onto the dance floor.

but his expression shifted when the song changed and her hands laced together behind his neck, absolving her of that illusion near-immediately. she cleared her throat as his hands settled on her hips and they started to sway together.

“i’m sorry,” she said again, more seriously this time. 

he pursed his lips, then shrugged. “for what?”

“for being weird this morning. i don’t know what you were going to say -- um, if you were going to say anything, but i totally freaked out and i obviously didn’t even give you a chance to get to it, so. that was uncool. sorry.”

colt’s gaze was calculating on hers. she wondered what he was thinking. “don’t worry about it,” he said finally. “it’s nothing.”

she drew in a deep breath. well, if he wasn’t going to give her an inch... “logan said you’ve always liked me.”

ellie watched as his eyes narrowed. “logan’s lucky today’s his wedding day,” colt murmured darkly. his hands tightened on her hips briefly, then released. he turned his head and leveled his glare on her. “so?”

“so -- i thought you hated me,” she laughed, that thread of nervousness back again. “you never -- i mean, why didn’t you ever say anything?”

he rolled his eyes at her. “okay, you’re always, like -- smiling and happy and constantly surrounded by people. when we were in school you were in, like, student government and on debate team and running a thousand clubs or doing extra lab hours and everyone always liked you -- so you wanted me to, what, exactly? just walk right up to you and be like, hey, do you want to see a movie?”

ellie gaped at him, her mouth open in shock. “i -- yes! you could have just asked me out.”

“right,” colt snorted, “that would’ve gone over well. you thought i was a total asshole.”

“colt, you were a total asshole,” she reminded him.

he shifted back and forth on his feet. ellie stared in fascination as the tips of his ears went red when he dipped his head to avert his eyes. “i didn’t want you think i had a crush on you or anything.”

it felt a lot like she was having an out-of-body experience. “well... did you have a crush on me?”

colt cleared his throat. “you weren’t like everyone else,” he said, in lieu of an answer, “you’re still not. but i get that you’re busy. this doesn’t have to be, like, a thing.”

“hang on, i’m still processing.” whatever this was, it was officially bizarre. 

it seemed impossible to wrap her head around what he’d just admitted: that he’d always liked her, even at her most neurotic, at the most school-obsessed, five-year-plan focused she’d ever been. 

so she didn’t have to change.

for once, it didn’t feel like she needed to put up some front that was, frankly, exhausting to maintain.

everything just felt -- nice.

“done yet?” he demanded, “the song’s almost over.” 

ellie leaned in and kissed him, uncaring of anyone who might see. his hands were warm over the cutouts in the dress at her sides and she was breathless when they finally broke apart, long after the song had changed.

the look on colt’s face was a mixture of self-satisfied and surprised when he pulled her off the dance floor and out onto the terrace. “i am busy,” ellie said, once they were alone.

colt nodded, looking out at the view of the beach below them. “i know.”

“but -- if you really don’t mind that i have to split my focus with school... and the distance... and the time difference...”

“are you trying to talk me out of it?” he asked, sounding amused.

“...then obviously i’d love to date you or whatever.”

“huh.” colt was smiling as he stared at the ocean. “i guess i probably should have just asked out you five years ago, then.”

“it might’ve been easier,” ellie allowed, shifting to lean her shoulder against his. she reached for his hand and laced their fingers together. “but that’s not really our style.”

colt turned and pressed his lips to the top of her head. “true,” he hummed, and then, “you smell like you have a whole can of hairspray in your hair.”

“i probably do.” she hesitated, looking down at their joined hands. “are you sure you want to do this?”

“yeah.” ellie looked back up at him and found colt’s eyes still stuck thoughtfully on the view. “i’ve wanted to for a really long time.”

“that’s so crazy to me.”

“why?” he finally turned and looked at her, his gaze no less intense than it had been last night by the ocean. “ingrid’s right. you are a catch. it’s crazy to me that you’ve stayed single all this time.”

“well, i was --” she bit the inside of her cheek to avoid again using the word busy, and then pivoted to a more uncomfortably honest answer, “-- never interested in compromising. before now.”

his lips spread into a smile. she felt her heart skip a beat at the sight of it, soft and genuine and open on his face. “figures i’d be the one to break your streak,” colt said, in that same overconfident way she always used to hate.

“oh my god, do not start,” she huffed, using their joined hands to push his side until he stumbled a step away.

colt retaliated by spinning her around and pulling her in close, trapping her against the ledge of the balcony before she could move. “why?” he challenged, “what are you going to do about it?”

she was going to kiss that stupid smirk right off his face, for one.

and he was going to spend the night dancing with her and later hold back her hair when she had too much to drink.

then they’d both spend most of sunday in bed, skipping brunch with the rest of their friends to put the hours before her flight to better use.

colt would drive her to the airport. they would say their goodbyes on the curb.

and she would be too excited to sleep on the trip back to miami.

“just wait,” she threatened, though her voice was sweet; she tilted her chin up to brush their noses together. “you’ll see. i have it all planned out.”

the look in his eyes made her feel like she was doing something dangerous; colt looked both fond and delighted, content and sweet and sure. his free hand lifted to thumb at her cheekbone, like part of him was still surprised to find the both of them out here, wrapped up together like they were. 

“i’ll bet,” he returned, his voice low and full of promise. “that work ethic is one of the things i like most about you.”

“you’ll have to give me a list of the rest,” ellie laughed, eager to hear his take on it all from what was arguably the most unique perspective in their friend group. 

“eh, you can wait,” colt shrugged, gently pressing her in along the stone ledge behind her back on the balcony, leaning over her with another grin, “there’s a few other things we have to catch up on first.”

fair point, she thought, though she’d be damned if she ever actually agreed with him out loud. she had a lot to fill him in on, too. 

he’d probably waited long enough, though, so ellie folded first and gave him that kiss she’d planned, colt’s smirk dissolving as expected when his mouth pressed against hers. 

when they finally broke apart and turned to head back inside, they drew up short outside the doors to the balcony. every last one of their friends was standing in front of the glass facade, staring at them, their eyes wide and their mouths open. ingrid and logan in particular looked unreasonably overjoyed. 

“christ,” colt sighed, as ellie instantly flushed bright red beside him, “is this what this is going to be like all the time?”

“no take backs,” she said, squeezing his hand. she turned to look up at him just in time to catch his eye roll, and the subsequent glare that made the group watching them from behind the door scatter with raucous laughter.

“fine,” he answered, sounding put-upon, but she hadn’t looked away yet and so she still caught the private smile that tugged his lips up against his will.

perfect, ellie thought to herself, and then, for the first time in as long as she could remember, nothing else -- no self-doubt, no exhaustion, no pretending. 

colt was probably going to have to help her get used to how it felt to have everything she wanted.

[magnoliasinbloom]

Crash Course Love

Infinite thanks to @anna-swims​ and @lcbeauchampoftarth​ for being awesome betas.

AO3 :: Previously

12: Past Tense [Claire]

I’d been dreaming of Jamie.

I had dreamed of his hands roving all over me, touching me, pleasuring me. I thought I had dreamt his hand on my breast, his arousal pressed against my bum, and I shamelessly ground my body on his, in my lust-fueled dream. The sound of his voice had hit me and it had stopped being a dream.

I’d made it become reality. I’d gone for broke and kissed him, and more. What on earth had possessed me to do that?

You’re insanely attracted to him, that’s why.

He hadn’t rejected me, and for that I was grateful. But now paranoia had set in and I was worried about what our encounter would do to our budding friendship. Afterwards, I had felt a little stilted and awkward. He gave no outward sign of discomfort, but was attentive and polite as usual.

But now that I knew what Jamie looked like in the throes of passion, starting a conversation became doubly hard. The roads had been cleared, the snow storm having spent itself in a night. After breakfast with his family and being hugged goodbye by everyone (including my vague promise to Ellen about coming back soon), he had driven me home; the radio was on a little bit loud, breaking up the silence between us. We managed a few half-smiles, a brush of hands here and there, and a promise to call each other soon. We had a wedding to attend, after all.

I had a few texts from Louise and a voicemail, who wanted to go over the flower arrangements one final time, now that the wedding invitations had been mailed and RSVPs were pouring in, including mine. The wedding was set in a few weeks, right before Christmas. The shop was closed on Mondays, but I texted her back so we could meet up later that week. I did a load of laundry. I went over some invoices for the shop. And all the while, in the back of my head, the memory of Jamie’s mouth and hands on me lingered.

The ringing of my phone startled me out of my reverie; Jamie Fraser flashed on the screen, and my heart pounded in double-time. The tension in my shoulders eased and I felt something unclench in my stomach I hadn’t even realized was there.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Sassenach, it’s Jamie. Well, o’ course ye ken that, mobiles show ye who’s calling, don’t they. But why do we always answer the phone like we dinna ken who’s calling, right?”

“Hi, Jamie. You know, you’re right about that. I’ll start answering my phone differently from now on.” I laughed, set further at ease by the Scottish burr of his voice.

“Och, weel, I just wanted to thank ye for accompanying me to lunch. And being so nice to my family. They absolutely loved ye, I think ye could tell. And I wanted to say… sorry. I guess. For the… this morning, ye ken. In case ye were regretting it. Or if ye think I was out of line.”

“Actually, Jamie, I was hoping you didn’t think I was out of line.” My hands fiddled with the papers on the table. “I think I was pretty clear about what I wanted. But maybe you didn’t want to be pawed at and I don’t want you to think that it’s all I wanted from you. You’re my friend, and I wouldn’t want this to come between us.”

“Friend?” Jamie repeated.

“Of course, I consider you my friend,” I said, confused. “Aren’t we friends?”

“Aye, of course, Claire.” He paused. “There was one more thing I wanted to ask ye. As friends, then.”

“Sure.”

“I meant to ask ye out. On a proper date.” Jamie’s tone went up on the last word, making it sound like a question.

“A date.”

“A real one. Not just coffee—unless that’s what ye would like, of course. But I thought perhaps dinner.”

“Yes.” I didn’t hesitate any longer. My fingers gripped the phone tightly, and the swooping feeling of butterflies was back in my stomach, but for a good reason.

“Really?” Jamie asked, incredulous.

I laughed again. “Yes, Jamie, I’m saying yes. Would this Friday be alright?”

“Sounds perfect. Shall I pick ye up at 7? Did ye have anything in mind that ye’d like?”

“Whatever you choose will be fine. I trust you.”

He didn’t know how much.

- - -

For the rest of the week, I spent my days dreaming about my date with Jamie. Date, date, date. A real date. I put in flower orders for bouquets and tended to the indoor plant boxes that held rosemary, parsley, and thyme, but all the while my thoughts were with Jamie.

After meeting Louise on Friday morning for some final wedding details, I left the shop in a hurry, already planning my outfit in my head. Dress up, or seem casual? Maybe a mix of both? As I ransacked my closet, pulling out shirts and jeans and the few dresses I owned, I decided to call Geillis.

“I have a date tonight.” I didn’t even bother to say hello as soon as she answered.

“Ye do?” Geillis Duncan was one of the few people in Glasgow who’d made Frank and me feel welcome back when we were new to the city. She owned a small but popular café near the flower shop. Our friendship had survived my breakup; it dawned on me that we hadn’t talked to each other in a couple of weeks, and she knew nothing about Jamie. I filled her in on some of the details, keeping the most recent private ones to myself.

“So he’s picking me up in like, an hour, and I don’t know what to wear!” I wailed, trying to zip up the back of a dress and giving up in frustration.

“It sounds like ye’re overthinking this, Beauchamp,” Geillis said. “Why don’t I come over now and lend ye my black skirt ye like so much and the yellow top? It’ll bring out the color of yer eyes, I’m sure Jamie will love ye in it.” She was giggling madly at the idea.

“Don’t tease me, Geil, I’m so not in the mood right now. But thank you.”

We hung up, and twenty minutes later she was at my door, helping me with my hair and make-up after I had dressed. I knew there was an ulterior motive to her being at my flat, and she confirmed in no uncertain terms that she wanted to see Jamie herself.

“Geillis, please don’t—”

“Relax, Claire. I just want to see the lad’s whose bonny red hair has ye in such a fluster.”

“You have red hair, you know.”

Geillis clucked. “’Tis not the same, and ye ken it. When will he be here?”

Before I could respond, there was a knock at the front door. It was promptly seven o’clock, and I glanced at Geillis in a panic. She smoothed down the skirt and pushed me towards the entrance. Heart pounding, very much aware that Geillis was peering gleefully around the hall for a glimpse of Jamie, I opened the door to find a very dapper Jamie. In dark jeans, a pressed sky-blue shirt and a black coat. The hues of his outfit brought out the intense sapphire of his eyes as his own gaze raked me over and seemed please at what he saw. I blushed.

“Hello, Sassenach.” He leaned in to kiss my cheek and his fingers lingered briefly on my arm. I caught the scent of his cologne, like tart lemons and spice.

“Hi, Jamie.” We stood there for a few seconds that seemed an eternity, before a loud harrumph and a fake cough from Geillis broke us out of our reverie. Jamie peered into the flat as I quickly grabbed my purse from the kitchen table where I’d left it before.

“Is there someone here with ye, Sassenach?”

“It’s my friend Geillis, but don’t worry, you don’t need to meet her and she was just leaving. Weren’t you, Geil?” I raised my voice for her benefit as I led Jamie out of the flat. “Lock up when you go!” I shut the door on one of her loud laughs; I was sure to hear from her later.

We walked to the stairs and Jamie tentatively reached for my hand. I grasped it firmly and squeezed in reassurance. Traipsing down the stairs, and remembering the last time we had done so together, I felt stupidly happy and shy all at once.

The restaurant he’d chosen was a low-key pub tucked into one of Glasgow’s winding alleys. We ordered wine and the awkwardness that I’d feared after our previous encounter was gone. Jamie and I talked animatedly about our week; my preparations for the upcoming wedding and flower arrangements, and he told me of the distillery and all the Christmas orders they had to fill.

“I was thinking of a new special blend; aging whisky in tequila barrels, not regular oak. The flavor is more complex, so different from what I’ve tasted. I plan to call it something like da anam, two souls.”

“That sounds very different! Where would you get the barrels?”

Jamie spoke of partnering up with several tequila producers in Mexico, as I speared rosemary potatoes with my fork; all the while we poured glass after glass of ruby wine for each other. Conversation flowed between us just as effortlessly.

Over dessert sometime later, I felt the back of my neck prickling. I sensed eyes on me, and they weren’t Jamie’s. It felt wrong, somehow.

I turned my head slightly and found Frank looking at me. He was with Sandy; he quickly bowed his head and shifted his attention elsewhere. I felt my face flush. I swiveled back and dropped my fork with a clatter.

“Sassenach? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t—it-it’s Frank.”

“Where?” He looked around wildly and I shushed him and clamped my hands on his arm in desperation.

“He’s back there, with the blonde. Just—be discreet.” Jamie got a good long look and then leaned in to whisper quietly.

“Didn’t ye say Sandy—his fiancée, with the giant ring ye mentioned. Wasn’t she supposed to be pregnant?”

“She might have had the baby, I don’t know. Her stomach was pretty big last time I saw her.” I sneaked another look.

It wasn’t Sandy.

She was blonde like Frank’s fiancée, but this wasn’t her. She looked even younger, fresher-faced, and was definitely not pregnant.

Cheating, lying, bastard.

I took deep breaths and Jamie ran a hand soothingly down my back. I shivered and grabbed my coat off the back of my chair.

“Jamie, I’m sorry, can we go?”

“Of course, Sassenach.” After quickly settling the check, he stood up as unobtrusively as a six-foot man ever could and pulled out my chair. He put his arm around me as we walked quickly to the exit.

It was inevitable that we pass by Frank’s table, though. The restaurant was a bit crowded and the layout made it impossible to avoid him. As we did, I got up the courage to meet his eye, bolstered by Jamie’s warm hand on my back. He wore a shamed expression, and could not hold my gaze. The woman stared back curiously at us, and I heard her ask him who I was.

“No one,” Frank replied, a slight tremor in his voice. Jamie tightened his grip on me, and I knew he’d heard him too.

Jamie came to a sudden halt near their table; he turned to face me, and with a soft whispered, “I hope ye dinna mind this,” pressed a soft kiss to my pursed lips. I opened my mouth in surprise, and he continued to probe gently. I found my arms rising to encircle his waist, clutching at the back of his coat. I dimly heard Frank clear his throat and murmur something unintelligible. I had ceased to care, though, lost in the fog of kissing Jamie.

Jamie’s mouth trailed across my cheek. “Dinna listen to him, Sassenach,” he whispered as he nuzzled my ear. “Ye’re so much more than ye know.”

- - -

A/N: I finished writing it out, so new chapters will post on Thursday. Finally, a schedule! The whisky in tequila barrels is actually a thing. Can’t find an English link, though. Thanks for all your likes, reblogs, comments. <3