#Muse; The world's greatest beauty | Misty | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

knuffled · 4 years ago

Text

Just Practice - Chapter 16

it’s here! i know i said this last chapter, but this is the most important one in the fic so far now. hope you enjoy it! if you could leave a comment and reblog, it would mean the world to me! thank you!

ao3 link here

The state cross country meet was held on a cold, gray April morning. Rainfall from the night before had left the ground muddy and slick, and clouds still lingered in the sky, obscuring the sun. Mist seeped out of the woods and crept across the ground, coating each blade of grass with dew. Annabeth toyed with her jacket’s zipper and watched her teammates file off the school bus. Coach had left her in charge of finding a spot for the team to warm up before the race, which meant a lot of standing around in the cold.

Annabeth chaperoned her team in search of an unoccupied spot, but it looked like they were late to arrive. Much of the grounds had already been camped by other schools. As they passed, Annabeth made mental note of the competition that had gathered. She recognized two girls from Northbrook who had placed higher than her at state the year before. There was the girl from Creston that beaten her to second place at the invitational. A few runners from Seneca Falls passed by from time to time, but Reyna herself was not among them.

Once they were settled, Annabeth led the group stretches in Coach Davis’s stead. The chill quickly sank into her bones and the wet grass drenched her yoga pants, only adding insult to injury. Annabeth could hear her teammates’s teeth chattering when the cold wind blew past. They were uncharacteristically solemn, even the younger ones. State tended to have that effect. The effort to stay focused was evident by the grimaces on their faces, but more than that a cloud of anxiety hung over them. Annabeth had hoped Coach Davis would have some words of encouragement for them but she was nowhere to be seen.

Strangely, this was perhaps the one meet that Annabeth did not share in their nervousness. She was so accustomed to being a bundle of nerves during meets that it seemed completely bizarre to feel otherwise. Today, however, it was like Annabeth was so focused she didn’t feel anything at all, but it wasn’t a strained focus. Instead, it was somehow relaxed and effortless. Percy had described the sensation to her before when she had asked him how he managed to stay so calm before swim meets, but she had never understood his explanations. Now, experiencing it firsthand, she couldn’t help thinking it was a good omen.

Coach Davis returned just as one of the meet officials announced the women’s five kilometer would begin shortly, and Annabeth approached her once she was done with her stretches.

“I think you should say something to them,” Annabeth muttered. “They look like they’re going to puke.”

Coach raised an eyebrow. “Me? You’re the captain. Rallying the troops is your job.”

Before Annabeth could protest, Coach stood in front of the team and cleared her throat. “Alright, listen up everyone! Your captain has a few words for you all before the race.”

Annabeth pursed her lips and balled her hands at her sides. She wasn’t one for speeches. Still, the tentative, expectant look on the faces of her teammates compelled her to say something.

“Um, congratulations to everyone that made it here,” Annabeth started. “For some of you, this is your first time competing at state. It’s normal to be nervous. I know I certainly was my first time here. But, I want you to know you’re here for a reason. Trust in all the hard work and dedication that brought you here, and make sure when you leave here today, you do so with no regrets!”

Looking at her teammates now, Annabeth couldn’t help feeling a lump form in her throat. “I, um, also just wanted to say that it has been an honor and a privilege to be your captain this year. I know I haven’t been that great at it, but I couldn’t be more proud of you all. Now, this is the last race of the season, so let’s go out there and make it count!”

The cheers of her teammates took Annabeth by surprise and embarrassed her. She shifted on her heels and felt her face heat up. Even she herself was taken aback by how well she had spoken. A few of her teammates thanked her or clapped her on the back when they passed by. Even Clarisse gave her a begrudging nod of respect before jostled past her on her way to the starting line. Annabeth hid a smile and shook her head before she turned back to Coach Davis.

Coach gave her a thumbs up and said, “I didn’t know you had it in you, kid. That was a killer speech.”

Annabeth breathed an incredulous laugh. “Don’t expect me to do it again. That was one hundred percent luck.”

Coach shrugged and said, “Who knows? Maybe today’s your lucky day.”

“I sure hope so.”

Coach Davis threw an arm around Annabeth’s shoulder. “I know so. Next time I see you, you’re gonna be holding a first place ribbon in your hand. You’re gonna kill it today, Chase.”

Annabeth ducked her chin to hide a smile. “Thanks, Coach. I’ll do my best.”

Coach gave her a final clap on the back and whispered, “Go get ‘em, kid.”

Annabeth nodded and jogged over to the starting line. Since she was late to arrive, Annabeth didn’t even bother jostling for a place closer to the head of the pack. It was nothing she couldn’t make up within the first few minutes of the race anyways.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Her body felt lighter than normal. Her mind was clear. Around her, tension droned in the air like a buzzing bee, but she felt removed from it all. She couldn’t bring herself to feel nervous, even as the official raised his gun and squeezed the trigger.

This was it, Annabeth mused. Her last high school race.

And then, the gunshot shattered the silence and Annabeth took off into the misty woods.

The ground was so soft and slippery that it was difficult to maintain proper footing and weave between all the other runners during the initial scramble to find a place. It didn’t take long for mud to cake her shoes and shins, much to her chagrin. But, after a few minutes, Annabeth found herself a spot towards the head of the pack.

The pace Annabeth held for the first half of the race was faster than the one she had adopted at the invitational, and as such it wasn’t long before she pulled into tenth. Since the new year, she had focused almost exclusively on her stamina, training to her limits. One Reyna’s greatest strengths was that she could sustain a brutal pace for the majority of a race. That alone gave her enough of a cushion to make it practically impossible to make up the distance by the end of the race. Annabeth realized that it was essential to keep up with Reyna until that point if she wanted to stand any chance of beating her.

All of that effort finally showed results when Annabeth managed to push into third place twelve minutes into the race. The girl from Creston was ahead of her, but Annabeth could tell that she was faltering. Her pace hadn’t improved since the invitational but Annabeth’s had. Annabeth’s suspicions proved correct when she managed to pass her only a minute later and pull ahead into second place.

Now, there was only one last obstacle. Reyna was ahead of her, but her lead wasn’t so large that Annabeth wouldn’t be able to make up the distance. If she had to estimate, there were perhaps a hundred meters between them, and she had the better part of three minutes to close it.

Annabeth set her jaw in grim determination and picked up her pace. Deviating so early from her race pace was risky, but she couldn’t afford to play it safe if she wanted to beat Reyna. She was doing fine in terms of stamina, and there was enough adrenaline coursing through her to give her confidence that she wouldn’t burn out.

Over the next two minutes, Annabeth managed to shrink the distance from a hundred meters to twenty. Reyna even heard her coming and fixed her a steely look over her shoulder before facing forward again. Even in the heat of competition, Annabeth couldn’t help taking a moment to admire Reyna. Her form was still immaculate this late into the race. There was something beautiful about the sheer efficiency of it. The only sign she was even working hard was the sweat on her brow.

But with six hundred meters left to go, Annabeth was still unable to bridge the distance between them. The remaining distance made things tricky. It was too much for her to abandon her pace and launch into a sprint. Honestly, her legs were already having a difficult time maintaining her current punishing pace, but Annabeth couldn’t afford to go into the final two hundred meters of the race behind Reyna. With a headstart, Reyna would beat her ten out of ten times in a sprint.

So, Annabeth made a bold gamble and abandoned her pace early.

Sprinting for over a third of a mile was not possible. Annabeth knew that. At best, Annabeth guessed could manage a little under four hundred meters at close to a sprint. Ideally, she would pull far enough ahead during that time and Reyna would be unable to make up the distance during the final two hundred meters.

Annabeth dug deep into what little stamina she had left and pushed herself as hard as she could. She grit her teeth and ignored the way her lungs immediately burned in protest. Reyna gave her a look when Annabeth managed to pull alongside her, but then she subsequently increased her own pace.

Annabeth wanted to scream. Reyna had an even faster pace?

Before she could spiral into negativity, Annabeth forced herself to calm down and re-evaluate the situation. She had no way of knowing, but it was entirely possible that she was throwing Reyna off her pace. If Reyna hadn’t planned for that, it could deplete her stamina much faster than she would have anticipated. Which meant that it wasn’t impossible for Annabeth to win.

Of course, it was all complete conjecture. Maybe Reyna had practiced for this very situation, and Annabeth was doomed. But if there was even a remote possibility that Annabeth was throwing her off her game plan, she would take it. If she could force a war of attrition, Annabeth could actually see a world where she could win.

Don’t slow down. Just keep running.

The following two minutes were perhaps the most brutal in Annabeth’s entire running career. It felt like her lungs were tearing themselves in two, and her calves burned like they had been coated in acid. The simple act of breathing was painful. At some point, her mind blanked out, and she slipped into a kind of trance. Thinking was no longer a necessary function. All that mattered was putting one foot in front of the next. Over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again.

But then, for the first time in the race, Reyna began to falter. Her shoulders were hunched and her stride grew inconsistent. It was subtle but cracks were beginning to appear.

A rush of excitement swept through Annabeth.

She could win this. All she had to do was deliver the finishing blow.

Just one final push, and state was hers.

Annabeth reached into the last vestiges of her stamina and pushed forward, desperate to pass Reyna for the first time.

But then, she hit a patch of mud and slipped, hyper-extending her leg.

Her left knee made a popping sound.

A bolt of pain unlike anything she had ever felt before shot up her leg.

Annabeth released a cry of pain and fell into the mud. Her mind was still blank, so it took her a moment to register what had happened. Once she came to, Annabeth desperately scrambled to her feet, but her left leg gave out on her the moment she put any weight on it.

She tried again only to fall face first into the mud. Annabeth blinked in disbelief and looked up. Reyna was getting further away. This couldn’t be happening. She was going to lose.

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!!!

Annabeth pounded the ground with her fist, hard enough to bruise her knuckles. She laid there in the mud, lacking the energy and the will to sit up. Anger wracked through her like venom.

She had finally been about to beat Reyna. Just a little more, and she would have done it.

But now, she had no shot.

It was all over for her.

At this point, she wouldn’t even finish the race.

Mud crept into her mouth, forcing her to finally sit up. Annabeth spit it out, but the taste of defeat lingered on her tongue. She brushed away the tears pricking her eyes and blearily took in her surroundings.

It was so quiet. Her knee throbbed in agony. Reyna had stopped. Mist curled around Annabeth’s waist. The ground trembled ever so slightly, heralding the onrush of runners.

Wait, Reyna had stopped?

What was she doing? Why was she just standing there? The other runners were going to catch up to her.

She watched in disbelief as Reyna walked over to her and dropped to a crouch, a strained look in her eyes. “Can you stand?”

Annabeth blinked blearily. “What?”

“Can you stand on your own?” Reyna repeated. “Or do you need help?”

Annabeth screwed her eyes shut and shook her head. “I- I don’t understand-”

Before she could react, Reyna tugged her onto her feet and threw Annabeth’s arm over her own shoulder. Reyna held her hip and pulled her into her side to support Annabeth’s weight before her knees buckled from under her.

The girl in third place sped past them without so much as a look.

Annabeth stared at Reyna with wide eyes and hoarsely asked, “W-What are you doing?”

When Reyna didn’t answer, Annabeth squirmed in her grasp. “Let me go.”

“Shut up.”

Three more girls passed them in rapid succession.

“Let me go,” Annabeth pleaded, her voice cracking. “You’re throwing the fucking race! Let me go!”

Reyna refused to look at her. “I said shut up.”

A lump formed in Annabeth’s throat, and she found herself fighting back tears. She didn’t think it was possible, but this was somehow worse than injuring her knee.

“Wha- Why?” Annabeth stammered. “Why are you going so far for me?”

“Because we’re friends,” Reyna said simply. “Now, let’s get going. We’ve got a race to finish.”

Annabeth barely registered the journey to the finish line. Her knee throbbed in pain the entire time, and her heart felt like it was tearing itself in two. It was already bad enough that she had completely fucked up the race, but the fact that she had stolen Reyna’s victory too was more than she could bear. At the rate she was going, Reyna would have broken the state record and placed nationally if it hadn’t been for her. Annabeth could already tell that she would never forgive herself for this.

The next thing she knew, they had stopped. Annabeth blinked and looked around, trying to figure out where she was, only to find herself standing right in front of Percy and the rest of her friends. Her throat seized up, and her heart squeezed in her chest.

The look on his face made her want to die.

Reyna helped Annabeth into Percy’s arms, a wordless understanding passing between them. He immediately supported her against his chest, and Annabeth melted into him. Usually, his scent was enough to calm her down, but not today. Today, it just made her sad. She buried her face in the crook of his neck and clutched at the fabric of his shirt, her lip quivering.

“P-Percy,” Annabeth whispered, voice cracking.

He held her tightly against him and ran his hands down her back. It was hard to say why, but that gesture was what broke the levy and allowed her to finally cry. Annabeth sobbed in his arms and held onto him like a lifeline.

“Get her to a hospital,” Reyna muttered.

Annabeth could hear Percy speak through his chest. “What happened?”

“She fell. Badly,” Reyna said tersely. “I did my best to get her here, but she’s yours now, alright? Take care of her for me.”

Percy’s grip on her tightened. “I will. I promise.”

There was a pause before Reyna nodded and turned to leave. But before she could get too far away, Percy called out to her.

“Reyna?”

She looked over her shoulder and met his eyes. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Reyna paused for a moment and nodded one last time. And then she was gone.

:::

The sky had begun to darken before the hospital staff allowed Percy and her friends in to see her. She had spent nearly two and a half hours in triage with the doctor and nurses. They asked her a lot of questions and ran some preliminary tests on her, mainly to measure her mobility, before they decided she would need to stay overnight. They didn’t know what the issue was for certain until they ran some imaging tests, but their tentative diagnosis only affirmed Annabeth’s worst fears.

After that, she was allowed to take a bath and changed into a hospital gown. Her knee was put in an elevated brace to keep her from putting any weight on it. The position was remarkably uncomfortable, but she had no other options than to bear it.

It was only after that that her friends were allowed inside to see her. They rushed inside and crowded around the bed, except for Percy who lingered by the doorframe. Annabeth fleetingly met his eyes and quickly looked away.

“Oh, Annabeth, we were so worried about you,” Rachel cried, taking her hand.

Frank nodded and quietly said, “They made us wait for so long that we thought something might have happened.”

Annabeth mustered a wan smile. “You mean apart from my knee getting completely fucked?”

Her friends looked at each other before Jason stepped forward and said, “We were afraid they had pulled you into surgery or something.”

“They still need to run a few tests before that,” Annabeth said.

“Do they know what’s wrong yet?” Piper asked, furrowing her brow.

Annabeth did her best to shrug. “They don’t have any leads just yet,” she lied.

There was an awkward silence before Hazel cleared her throat and said, “Well, let us know if there is anything we can do for you.”

“I think I’ll need a change of clothes and some toiletries probably,” Annabeth said.

Piper nodded to herself and made some notes on her phone. “Got it.”

“Anything else?” Rachel asked.

“Nothing for now,” Annabeth said, trying to smile. “Just some bed rest.”

“Alright,” Rachel said, nodding. “Let us know if that changes or if anything comes up.”

Annabeth nodded. “Sure, I will.”

They lingered for a short while longer before a nurse popped into the room to yell at them for having too many people in the room.

Jason sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “I guess that’s our cue to leave. We’ll see you later, ABC. And remember: anything you need, we’re here for you.”

Annabeth nodded and waved feebly while they filed out of the room. Only Percy stayed behind, but she had suspected as much. She had been dreading talking to him most of all. When he got worried like this, he wouldn’t let her get away with weaseling her way out of talking.

Percy stood by the base of her bed and offered her a soft smile. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.”

“I tried calling your dad, but he wouldn’t pick up,” Percy said. “Sorry.”

Annabeth nodded. “I figured as much.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Alright, I guess,” Annabeth said. “My knee sure hurts like a bitch though.”

“What happened?” Percy asked. “Reyna said you fell.”

“I mean, yeah, pretty much,” Annabeth said, sighing. “I was about to pass her, but then I slipped on some mud and hyper-extended my leg or something. Next thing I know, my knee is completely fucked and I can barely stand.”

“I’m sorry,” Percy said quietly.

“Yeah, well,” Annabeth said, trying for a shrug.

“How are you feeling?”

Annabeth looked at him. “You already asked me that.”

“You told me how your leg was doing, not how you were doing,” Percy said.

“Don’t have the decency to let me wallow in my own misery, huh?” Annabeth joked half-heartedly.

“Afraid not,” Percy said lightly.

Annabeth sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “I don’t really know, honestly. Hasn’t really sunk in yet. Just can’t help thinking the universe sure has a sick sense of comedic timing that’s all.”

Percy frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I was so close, Percy, so fucking close,” Annabeth said. “Just a little more and I had Reyna beat. But, when the time came, I fucked up like I always do.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” Percy said. “You were just insanely unlucky.”

“I know,” Annabeth said, smiling sardonically. “That’s what makes it so funny. I’ve spent the last six years of my life training my fucking ass off, and all it took was one moment to make it all completely meaningless. Isn’t that just fucking hilarious?”

Percy shifted uneasily and said, “Annabeth-”

“And you know the worst part is that I dragged Reyna into it too,” Annabeth said, shaking her head. “She was going to win and place nationally, and I stole that from her.”

“She made that choice herself,” Percy said gently. “Besides, we don’t know if she would have won for sure.”

“Yeah?” Annabeth laughed humorlessly. “Well, here’s something I do know: it would have been better for everyone if she’d left me there in the mud.”

Percy inhaled sharply and said, “Oh, Annabeth. There’s absolutely no way that’s true. And all your hard work wasn’t for nothing either. You still have all of your college career ahead of you.”

Annabeth stared down at her lap, a lump forming in her throat. “But what if I didn’t?”

Percy furrowed his brow and said, “What do you mean?”

Annabeth wrung her wrists. “T-They’re saying that I probably tore my ACL.”

“But you said before-”

“I was lying,” Annabeth interrupted. “I just didn’t want to bring it up in front of everyone.”

There was a slight pause before Percy held a hand to his forehead and muttered, “Shit.”

“Yeah. Shit.”

They both knew a torn ACL had spelled the end to many an athlete’s career. It wasn’t a death sentence, but there was a good chance Annabeth would never come back stronger than before her injury.

Percy’s hands tightened around her bedframe. “It’ll be alright. I’m sure that some surgery and rehab will do the trick.”

“Wish I shared in your optimism,” Annabeth said, half-smiling.

“Look, I know it seems hopeless right now, but you’ll make it out. You always do.”

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “And there’s also a good chance I’ll never be as fast again.”

“Well, I believe in you,” Percy said. “I know how strong you are.”

Annabeth offered him a weak smile. “But what if I don’t believe in me?”

“Then I’ll do enough for the both of us and make up for it,” Percy said gently.

His words should have made her feel better, but instead they lit a spark of anger in her. “Just because you believe in something, doesn’t make it true, Percy.”

Percy must have sensed the shift in her mood and carefully said, “I’m aware of that.”

“No, you clearly aren’t,” Annabeth snorted. “This isn’t something you can just self-help, positive thinking bullshit your way out of.”

“I never said it was,” Percy said quietly.

“But it’s what you meant,” Annabeth insisted.

Percy pursed his lips and looked at her. “What would be more helpful for me to say instead?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe you can start by acknowledging what’s really going on,” Annabeth said caustically.

“And what’s that?”

Annabeth sat up straight and crossed her arms over her chest. “How about you admit I might never be able to run competitively again? Or how about admitting I’m responsible for sabotaging Reyna’s victory at state? Admit that my best isn’t good enough, that it’ll never be good enough.”

“And that will help you feel better?” Percy asked slowly.

“Compared to the garbage you were saying before? Yeah, it would.”

Hurt flickered in Percy’s eyes before he took a deep breath and shook his head. “I’m not going to say that.”

“Yeah? And why’s that?” Annabeth demanded.

“It’ll only make you feel worse,” Percy said quietly.

Annabeth ground her teeth and glared at him. “You know, I really hate when you do that.”

Percy furrowed his brow. “What?”

“When you pretend to know how I think or feel,” Annabeth fumed. “Or when you act like you know what’s good for me. It’s so fucking arrogant.”

“I didn’t mean for it to come across-”

“Then stop fucking pretending this isn’t real!” Annabeth snapped. “Do you really not understand how completely fucked I am right now?”

“Annabeth, I get how you feel. Trust me, I do,” Percy said. “But with the right treatment-”

“Percy, I could lose my scholarship over this,” Annabeth interrupted, fighting back tears. “I-I can’t afford to go to Berkeley without one, and I sure as hell can’t ask my fucking parents for money. They couldn’t even be bothered to see me here!”

He paused and processed the information quietly for a few moments before he said, “If we find a good surgeon and a physical therapist, they’ll figure out a way to cure you.”

“But what if it doesn’t work?” Annabeth asked desperately. “What if I never fully recover?”

Percy walked around the side of her bed and took her hand. “Then we’ll figure that out together too.”

“What do you mean ‘we’?” Annabeth laughed bitterly. “This isn’t your fucking problem. You still have your scholarship. Even if you didn’t, your mom would help pay your tuition. You still have people who give a shit about you. I don’t have anyone like that.”

There was a hint of tragic desperation in Percy’s voice when he said, “But you have me.”

Annabeth looked up at him with a strained smile. “Do I? Do I really?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Percy asked, narrowing his eyes.

“You have been hiding things from me,” Annabeth said quietly. “You’ve been hiding things from me, who knows for how long.”

“Annabeth, what are you talking-”

“Kara Mayfield,” Annabeth said tiredly.

Percy stiffened like he had been slapped across the face, and that was the final nail in the coffin.

“Where you ever going to tell me about her, about what happened to you two?” Annabeth asked softly.

When Percy was silent, Annabeth breathed an incredulous laugh and shook her head. “So never then, apparently.”

“I never meant to hide anything from you,” Percy said. “It’s just-”

“I don’t want your excuses, Percy,” Annabeth said. “Either you don’t trust me enough, or you think I’m too fragile to handle it, like I’m some kindergartner that needs protecting because I don’t know what’s good for me.”

“I’ve always only ever had complete trust in you, Annabeth,” Percy said tersely.

“Well, it sure doesn’t feel like it,” Annabeth fumed. “I have never kept anything from you. I’ve always told you absolutely everything about myself. I guess it just hurts because I assumed that you did the same.”

Annabeth paused and stared down at her lap, digging her fingernails into her palms. “Honestly, it’s fine if there are things you can’t tell me. Like, it hurts but I can live with it. But then what was the point of the fucking ocean of subtext that you’ve been forcing me to swim through since the start of the school year? I just don’t understand why the fuck you’ve been leading me by the nose on this wild goose chase if you’re so unwilling to open up to me. At least have the decency to make up your fucking mind.”

When Percy still continued to remain silent, Annabeth just felt suddenly exhausted, like all the events of the day had caught up with her all at once.

“I’m just so tired of this, Percy,” she muttered. “I’m tired of having to lie awake at night trying to analyze why you said this or did that. I’m just so fucking tired of it, and I don’t want to do it anymore.”

“You don’t think I would’ve said something if I could have?” Percy said tightly. “You think that I’ve liked keeping things from you? It kills me-”

“Then just tell me then!” Annabeth said. “This is your chance: right here! Just fucking say what’s on your mind for once.”

“I can’t!” Percy said, voice cracking. “I- I just can’t.”

“You can’t or you won’t?”

Percy was silent for a moment before he whispered, “I don’t know.”

Annabeth bit her lower lip to keep it from quivering. “You’re breaking my fucking heart, Percy Jackson. I really hope you know that.”

Percy took a step closer to her, looking shattered, but Annabeth pointedly looked away at the opposite wall and cleared her throat.

“If you don’t have anything to say, I think you should just leave.”

A suffocating silence draped over them like a blanket, so palpable that Annabeth could almost feel the weight of it smothering them both. She held her breath, hoping against hope, that Percy would finally come out with everything he was holding back, but he didn’t say anything.

She didn’t know how long he simply stood there before he opened the door to her hospital room. He paused between the doorframe for a few moments, and her heart jack-hammered inside her chest.

This was it, Annabeth realized. This was finally how he left her.

Before he could close the door behind him, Annabeth frantically turned to him and yelled, “I’m in love with you!”

Percy froze and looked at her with a searching gaze. Blood pounded in Annabeth’s ears. Maybe now he wouldn’t leave. Anything to make him stay.

It felt like an eternity before Percy withered in front of her. His smile was achingly kind and familiar, but Annabeth was too struck by the hurt in his eyes. She had never seen him in so much pain before. Was that all her doing?

“It’s alright, Annabeth,” Percy smiled. “You don’t have to pretend anymore.”

His words hit her like a sledgehammer to the face. The door closed and shut behind him before she could react, and then she was alone.

And then she was alone.

#percabeth angst #percabeth #percabeth fake dating au #percabeth fluff #percabeth fic #just practice #knuffled fic

84 notes · View notes

self-shipyard · 3 years ago

Text

"I Will (Pt. 4): The Ceremony" - A Self-Ship Wedding Fic

SYNOPSIS: The final part of a special, four-part fic in which, after what felt like forever, the ceremony finally begins.

Word Count: 1770

CW: Wedding Fluff, Emotional Bursts, Crying

Tag List: @guthound, @danieladimitrescu, @puppyships, @ava-ships, @awesomedanganronpaconfessions, @sinners-call-me-baby, @reigenhusband, @that-autistic-team-skull-grunt, @noellojello, @somethingscarlet13, @spookymasonjar, @vanityloves, @valor-selfships

Note: I left an extra something at the bottom of this work. I will likely post it separately later on, but for now, I hope you enjoy the final leg of the journey. And thank you for coming along with us. ❤

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4

Everyone in the chapel watched quietly as Pesci skipped a little down the aisle and scattered white rose petals along the aisle, being careful not to step on any of them on his way over.

Ghiaccio watched him too, with all the intensity of a hawk.

It wasn't something he could help; Pesci's presence meant for certain that Lumaca could walk in at any minute now, and that made his heart somehow race even faster.

Any minute now, the love of his life will be marrying him.

Any minute now…

Pesci passed by the front of the altar, making sure to give the groom a smile and a thumbs-up gesture before taking his place, which was next to Risotto, who was sure to give him a little pat on the back for a job well done, and behind Melone, who quickly noticed how even tenser Ghiaccio had become.

“Take some breaths, Ghiaccio,” he whispered to him. “We don’t need you passing out right in front of God and everyone, alright?”

Ghiaccio turned and gritted his teeth at his attempt at humor.

“I’m not going to pass out,” he whisper-shouted back. “I’m not just going to forget how to breathe because of my nerves, damn it.”

“Well see… Just keep your breath steady, alright?”

“I…” he gulped in an attempt to steady his emotions. “I’ll try… But-.”

“All rise for the entrance of the bride,” the pastor’s voice suddenly filled the chapel.

Ghiaccio’s head instantly whipped around to face the door, eyes widened and beads of sweat rolling down his forehead.

The brief moment of silence that followed as everyone focused on the entryway did nothing to ease his nerves. What was in turn a few seconds felt like long hours to him. It dawned on him that his entire world really was about to change, and it couldn’t seem to happen fast enough.

At long last, the doors drifted opened.

In the doorway stood Lumaca, her right arm linked into Prosciutto’s left, and her left-hand clutching onto the bouquet of white roses. Her dress just barely touched the floor and her veil shrouded her face, though it wasn’t hard to see that her eyes were on the ground, as though she were bracing herself.

Everyone in the room felt a sense of awe upon seeing the bride, but none so more than the groom did. In that moment, he even forgot how to breathe.

As she made her way down the aisle, she looked up to meet his gaze from across the room, and time held its breath for them.

If gazes could speak, theirs would tell the whole world of how in love with each other they felt. Theirs would tell those memories they held so fondly. Theirs would tell how their souls had been craving this even before they met.

They held that gaze up until she was in arms reach of him. This was when he stretched out his hand to her and she took it into her own hand, releasing herself from the arm of her father figure at the same time.

There they stood facing the altar, hand in loving hand.

The pastor walked to his place in front of them, the ceremonial script in his hands. As soon as everyone had taken their seats once again, he opened the script book and began to read from it

“Dearly beloved,” he began. “Friends, family, fellow man… We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of two spirits. Today, two hearts will become one in the act of matrimony…”

The words faded into the background for the bride and the groom.

They were too lost in each other’s eyes to really notice what was being said. In comparison to the pastor’s voice, the love that they felt between them was loud and joyous even though there was only a calm, understanding quietness between them. It was even so loud that it deafened Prosciutto’s voice as he read through the ceremony reading, though they could hear each word within their hearts.

“A soulmate is someone who has locks that fit our keys, and keys to fit our locks. When we feel safe enough to open the locks, our truest selves step out and we can be completely and honestly who we are; we can be loved for who we are and not for who we’re pretending to be. Each unveils the best part of the other. No matter what else goes wrong around us, with that one person we’re safe in our own paradise…”

After letting the last word echo throughout the room, Prosciutto gave a short bow and returned to the bride’s side of the altar with the bridesmen. Lumaca briefly came out of her lovesick trance to give him a little smile that he was quick to return.

Sorbet held out his hand so he could hold on to her bouquet for the next part.

“Thank you,” the pastor said. “Will the bride and the groom face one another for the pledge of intent?”

Now it was Ghiaccio’s turn to come out of his trance. When he heard those words, he blinked and made a low, started noise before quickly facing his bride with his hands enveloping hers.

She faced him too, eyes locked onto his and fingers stroking at his palm as an act of reassurance.

The pastor looked down at his script, pausing for a second to read the names of the couple. Their real names were there, though according to the notes, they had requested to be called “Lumaca” and “Ghiaccio” for the verbal parts of the ceremony. Confused, but not deterred, he continued.

“Ghiaccio ,” he addressed the groom. “Do you take Lumaca to be your lawfully wedded wife, to share your life openly, standing with her in sickness and in health, in joy and in sorrow, in hardships and in ease, to cherish and love forever more? If so, say I will.”

Without any hesitation, he responded, “I will.”

“Lumaca ,” the pastor turned to the bride next. “Do you take Ghiaccio to be your lawfully wedded husband, to share your life openly, standing with him in sickness and in health, in joy and in sorrow, in hardships and in ease, to cherish and love forever more? If so, say I will.”

She was also quick to respond with “I will.”

With a subtle hand motion, the pastor gestured for Sorbet and Melone to present the rings to the pair, who both turned to their respective person to take hold of their spouse’s beautifully crafted piece of silver.

“Now,” he announced. “The bride and the groom will present their vows and rings to one another.”

Taking that as his cue, Ghiaccio held out his left hand to her with the ring cradled in his right. As soon as she slipped her left hand into it, he looked into her eyes. She could feel his hand tremble and could see his eyes had become misty.

He took a deep breath and began to recite his vows.

“I will always spend every moment with you, because every second lives in my heart. I will always nurse you back to health, because I live to see you thrive. I will always celebrate your victories, because you are my greatest pride. I will always give you my shoulder to cry on, because I want to be your rock. I will always try to make you smile, because it lights up my whole world. I will always cherish you as my…”

He paused, his breath hitching softly.

“I will always cherish you as my… wife, because… Because-!”

Suddenly, Ghiaccio’s body hunched over and his forehead pressed against her knuckles.

She froze as a worried pang clenched at her heart. This worry was shared with the observing crowd, causing small gasps and murmurs. However, before she could say or do anything, the room fell silent as his voice let out a choked sob. She felt his tears landing against her hand.

It made the tears she had been trying to hold back for so long started to roll down her cheeks.

After a quiet moment of sobbing, he lifted his head back up to look at her. His lips trembled and his face had turned red. Tears still streamed down his face, but he swallowed down his sobs and gave her a soft smile.

“Because you are the one who completes me…”

She covered her mouth with the back of her right hand, letting it get wet with her tears as she used it to quiet her sobs and hold his ring at the same time. That’s all she could do as he carefully slipped the ring onto her left hand.

Hesitantly, she pulled her left hand away and turned it over for him to place his own left hand on top of, which he did while the rest of his tears fell.

Now it was her turn to say her vows. Never once taking her eyes off of him, she took a breath and started to say them.

“Your love is like a lighthouse; it protects me and guides me through the dark. So, I promise to be your keeper; I will always care for you and keep your light shining. Your heart is like fire; burning wildly and spreading your flames into mine. So, I promise to be your water; I will always ease your heart's flame when it gets too high. Your soul is like the ocean waves; you hold many beautiful wonders to show me. So, I promise to be your boat; I will always belong to you and bring your beauty to the light."

She closed her eyes for a brief second, sniffling and letting more tears fall from her eyes. Her voice broke as she finished her vows.

"You are my muse and my motivation… you inspire me even when my hope is lost. So, I… I promise to be your wife; I will always love you and treasure you."

He watched her, eyes wide and filled with tears. He bit down on his lip to stop himself from weeping, which he almost broke down to do the second he felt her slip the silver ring onto his left finger.

Their hands enveloped into each other, their palms feeling the rings on each other’s finger.

“By the power vested in me,” the pastor announced. “And by those in witness of their union, I pronounce you as man and wife.”

Warm smiles spread across their lips and their eyes shone with joyful tears.

At last...

“Congratulations. You may kiss.”

...

#❄soft snow (lumaghia)❄#⛵sal's writing #❄soft snow wedding❄#self ship #self shipping #self shipping content #self shipping community #romantic f/o #self ship wedding

10 notes · View notes

puttingfingerstokeys · 4 years ago

Text

stork and starshine

in which New Kang (her first appearance is in Storm Over Function) asks where babies come from and I once again refuse to fuck with spaces or italics because--say it with me--I’m fucking lazy! I had intended this to be sillier than it is, but as always the muse takes me where it wants me and it wants me to be a fucking hallmark channel tearjerker bullshit screenwriter so here, have some ancient queens being dads (okay Shang Tsung isn’t ancient--this will be like, idk twentyish? years before the... third MK tournament?? I dunno man I’m making this up as I go along. I have no kontrol. Any writer who says they do also likely has a bridge to sell you).

Warring Exes

restored timeline

A light tug on the arm of his luxuriant vermilion robe drew Shang Tsung’s attention up from the swooping strokes of his quill upon parchment. He regarded the room in an almost comically oblivious way, even going so far as to shade his eyes from some bright light, as if it was difficult to see. The tug came again and once more, he scanned the room.

“Baba, here, I’m here,” said a voice which was more like birdsong than speech. Shang Tsung laid his quill aside then and turned to face his daughter, a girl of six with hair as dark as the depths of night before dawn and vivid, hazel eyes. She reached out toward him with small hands and he sat back, a stern look upon his face.

“Liu Kang,” he purred, “we have spoken of this many times; when you desire something, what do you do?”

“I take it!” She was very proud of her answer and he smiled, gesturing that she should go on. Her face screwed up, lips puckering in thought before she continued, finishing strong. “Or find someone who can give it to me!”

“Indeed, and how do you communicate this desire?” The greed sparkling in his obsidian eyes was lost upon her, a child who had just learned self from other, but the pride was not. It sparked a fire in her the likes of which he had never seen and which he appreciated greatly. She would grow to be a wolf, not a snake.

“I say it!” Everything from a child, it seemed, had to be delivered upon the wings of boundless enthusiasm. The girl had adjusted her posture, straightening and standing erect, a pose which showed nicely the fine clothes she wore, perfectly tailored to her tiny body and mimicking that of her opulent “Baba”. Her dark hair was glossy under the lamplight of Shang Tsung’s study and the gold and baubles in it caught and reflected that warmth. She was a stunning child and he could see even now that she would grow into a beautiful woman. He had no intention of allowing her to traverse the realms without knowing who she was. That would be her most powerful weapon of all, to say nothing of the sorcery he fully planned on teaching her.

“So, tell me, what would you like?” He leaned upon one arm of his chair and watched her, luxuriating in parental bliss. He watched her eyes dart about, watched her cheeks go red, watched her little eyebrows pulling together at the center of her sweet, smooth forehead, one he had kissed more times than he could count.

“I um… I want to know how people come into this world.” Liu Kang spoke each syllable with meticulous care, knowing how much was expected of her and wanting only to please. Shang Tsung’s face softened and her posture slackened with it. She was not a child in want, but she was not spoiled—per se. Her lessons were difficult and Shang Tsung would bear nothing less than perfection from his darling girl. But he was a good teacher and surprisingly patient. It pleased her to please him and he was pleased when she strove for this. They were well-matched.

“You desire knowledge, my daughter,” he offered, opening a hand and conjuring a few shapes for her amusement—and his own, if he was being honest—before straightening and standing, pushing his chair away from the grand mahogany desk with the backs of his knees. He offered her one of his gilded hands, rings adorning his fingers, instead of golden claw gauntlets, his bracelets jingling as he moved. She took that hand and held it tightly, and together, they moved toward his library. “I will never deny you knowledge.”

Shang Tsung’s study was a warmly furnished, dark room, lined with books and lit by braziers and enchanted objects wherever he desired them to be. Those books were his favorites—special editions, old manuscripts, things which were unattainable to others… But nothing could escape his grasp once he had set his mind upon it. The tomes he sought, however, would not be in that collection.

They stepped out into the library proper, a stone room cut into the very mountain of his keep and equipped with protective ventilation, enchanted barriers to ward against moisture and rot, and sconces every few feet, illuminating the vastness of it. She had come careening through here—there was no doubt in his mind that careening had been her method of travel—a few minutes before, just to come find him. He wondered if she had known he would be here, or if she had been sent.

“I know you have said I was a gift, but I know the gifts people bring you,” she said, her voice grave with the knowledge of six accumulated years. “Did someone bring me like that?”

Shang Tsung considered a moment, his hand upon the spine of an Earthrealm biology book, bemoaning the absence of an Edenian scroll or volume of the same subject. One finger ran down the title and publisher absently as he considered how he would answer this. He had never hidden anything purposefully from her, and the story of her arrival was a good one, a fascinating one, in fact. Still, he was unsure if the timing was appropriate. After a moment’s thought, he withdrew from the shelf and, still holding her hand in his, dropped to one knee before her, the light catching the gold in his hair as it caught in hers.

“I will tell you the story of your arrival, Starshine, but not yet.” He touched her nose, a sweet little button of a thing. “We must find your father first.”

She brightened at this and reached out to touch Shang Tsung’s nose in the same way. “Follow me,” she bade, tugging on his hand. He stood and she pulled, his heart swelling with pride. She was intelligent, perceptive, beautiful, thoughtful—everything a parent could want in a child. For a brief moment, he considered how little he deserved her. As she pulled him relentlessly through the winding halls of his castle—their home—he considered what, precisely, he had done in his entire life to deserve such an immense gift, something which could sate his greed once and for all. He had not known in his younger days that such a thing could be possible. He had thought the well of his desires endless. The thoughts banished themselves as she, with her tiny hand, and a bit of his sorcery, pushed her way—their way—through the last door to his throne room.

“Father!” Her shrill, bird-like voice called out toward the balcony behind Shang Tsung’s opulent throne. On the balcony, a figure stood, facing the misty sea beyond the island. The fog had cleared this night and one might see for miles, study the stars, see many moons and skies of different realms. “Father!” She called louder this time and the figure turned.

The shoulders were broad, the stature gargantuan, at least seven feet tall, perhaps more, and, though light-colored robes and white hair were tossed about ceaselessly by the wind, a hat, in the simple style of a rice farmer—though far more lavishly adorned than a rice farmer’s had any right to be—stayed perched on top of the tall man’s head. Gentle, dark blue eyes caught the light of some moon or other as he moved forward to receive his daughter’s affection, dropping to one knee and opening his arms to catch her as she leapt into them.

“Liu Kang,” rumbled Raiden, his voice the distant murmur of thunder, “you have found him for me. I am so proud.”

“She is an adept sorceress,” Shang Tsung said, stepping out onto the balcony. “I have taught her well and will teach her more.”

A shadow passed briefly over Raiden’s face as he remained on one knee, the girl in his arms, but it disappeared as suddenly as it had emerged. He was no fool. Liu Kang could not enter the world—any world—without defense. He could teach her no sorcery, could not even gift her with divinity which he no longer possessed. It was a wise path, if a dangerous, serpentine one. His consolation was that Shang Tsung would allow no harm to come to his precious girl—their girl—while under his tutelage. This was his greatest gift, this all-consuming, nearly-obsessive adoration. The way Shang Tsung’s face lit up when he observed their daughter was a balm for Raiden’s scarred, mortal soul.

The sorcerer approached and, joining his family near the fine stone of the balcony railing, bent forth and grasped Raiden’s chin, delighting in the fine bones of his face, the set of his lips, the nobility of his nose. With his free hand, Shang Tsung removed the hat so that the moonlight could lay its silvery elegance over the former god’s features, illuminating them, highlighting each perfect imperfection, each part of him that had likened him to humanity, even when he had been divine. With Liu Kang caught between them, he brought their lips together, long and slow, the child wrapped in Raiden’s arms—he was helpless to resist, but it had been much time and more since he had wanted to do so.

Only her muffled shouts stopped them and they pulled apart to her flailing protests. “Baba promised a story!” Her declaration was loud, almost thunderous. Shang Tsung’s serpentine smile at her demand mirrored Raiden’s soft grunt of incredulity, though this too was followed by a smile.

“A story,” he echoed, “of what, I wonder?”

Their eyes met over Liu Kang’s head and wordless knowledge passed between them. It was time she knew whence she came. Raiden’s nod was minute as he stood, Liu Kang in his arms, Shang Tsung before him, the strangest family in any realm, every realm… but happy, for all that.

#cc #cw #mortal kombat #raiden #shang tsung #warring exes #new kang #didn't tag her in storm over function because I didn't wanna spoil

5 notes · View notes

miraiconnection · 3 years ago

Text

trainerno-two:

"Water Gym Leader of Kanto Stop being Mean to Bugs Challenge."

“Until they learn to stay away from me, I’ll never stop!”

#trainernotwo #Muse; The world's greatest beauty | Misty

10 notes · View notes

dvinefem · 5 years ago

Text

[ ARIANA GRANDE / KALLOS / CHARIS / MUSE 26 ] / [ GIADA VITALE ] is a [ TWENTY ONE ] year old [ FASHION DESIGN ] major. [ SHE ] is known for being [ VIBRANT & NURTURING ] but [ GUARDED & VAIN ]. when i think of them, i imagine [ SKETCHBOOKS AND FABRIC SWATCHES, THE LINGERING SCENT OF FRESHLY SMUDGED PALO SANTO, SUCCULENTS ADORNING A WINDOWSILL ]. and even though they’re a proud HU student now, we all have our roots. theirs run back to them being a [ MHP ( AQUA ) ] graduate. i asked around and it turns out they [ AREN’T ] an AOP student. in their interview, they managed to woo the admissions team by [ PRESENTING SOME PROTOTYPES FROM A MOCK-UP CLOTHING LINE ]. i guess that’s all there is to know! unless…

✧ °˖ — hi there folks ! it’s me, your friendly neighborhood ki. i’m super duper excited for this to start asdfghj. ok ok onto the intro.

G E N E R A L !

FULL NAME: giada marie vitale

NICKNAMES: gigi, gi

BIRTHDATE: october 1st 1998

STAR SIGN: libra

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: pansexual

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: panromantic

LABEL: charis ( grace )

SUBPLOT: muse 26 ( not a catfish , only a shark )

S C H O O L I N G !

MHP HOUSE: aqua ( authentic, imaginative, intuitive )

HU HOUSE: kallos ( aesthetics, imagination, elegance, creation )

MAJOR: fashion design

CLUBS: forces of nature club president, artistic horizons member, eleusinian circle member

S I M I L A R I T I E S !

BROOKE DAVIS ( one tree hill ) , CAROLINE FORBES ( the vampire diaries ) , ALICE ( alice in wonderland ) , ELLE WOODS ( legally blonde ) , also a touch of MISTY DAY ( american horror story )

T R A I T S !

+ vibrant , nurturing ,confident

- guarded , vain , coquettish

I N F O !

giada was the only child born to two high profile italian lawyers who didn’t exactly have much time for her. so, an in-house nanny was their prime solution.

practically raised by a kind woman named antonella, a nanny who took care of her every whim until the age of 16.

she doesn’t talk about her home life with many people — not relating to anybody who has a close relationship with their parents. whenever she mentions her mum, she’s usually referring to antonella.

being an only child with busy parents meant having tons of hobbies. antonella had a bit of a green thumb, so the two were often found out in the garden for hours on end. the nanny went into extensive detail with giada about every plant known to mankind. she ended up taking a liking to it. when night fell, antonella would set up a blanket beneath the the stars — teaching her all of the constellations names.

her nanny also taught her palm and tarot reading — an art giada’s practiced for years. a pretty cool party trick she whips out often.

very vocal about her big dreams of being a luxury designer, she’ll talk your ear off about colors, ask you for your opinion on swatches.. basically you’ll probably have to tell her to hit the road lmao.

while her parents wished she’d take a more practical route like they had, gigi has always had an actively creative mind and a passion for fashion ( bratz anyone ?? ). always in her room talking to her succulents — filling sketchbooks with designs and sewing away. i should note that she’s also into eco-friendly fashion and will be v upset if she sees anyone wearing REAL fur. faux fur only, pls.

although she’s a very spiritual and grounded person, giada can tend to be a tad vain. the way she looks is extremely important to her, obviously.

she has a taste for all things beautiful. refined, sophisticated, and graceful are her design aesthetics.

huge dreams for such a small girl, but she’s ready and willing to do anything to manifest them into a reality.

chanel’s classic and feminine aesthetic would be her cup o’ tea any day over gucci.

even if she doesn’t mean to, she can come off a bit bitchy at times as well. she’ll tell it like it is.. but still ask you to grab froyo with her after. she just wants everyone to be the best version of themselves. being unkind to anyone is NEVER her intention. she’d do ANYTHING for the people she cares about most.

pretty much the mom friend in any squad, wanting to take care of everyone else before her self.

it should be noted that she’s a bit guarded and won’t open her entire soul up to many people anymore due to the aftermath of her subplot ! ( peep her subplot on the main for more details here )

also president of the forces of nature club.. so if she sees you with single use plastic of any kind she’s gonna be offended lol.

C O N N E C T I O N S !

ok i know i’m a werido & can’t make a SIMPLE list. a lot of my inspo for a muse goes hand in hand with music SO.. listed below are some wanted connections with a tiny description we can expand on, and it’s correlating song/vibe ! hmu if you’re feelin’ any of them

..and ofc, feel free to suggest other connections that aren’t here ! i’m always very open ! give me frenemies, give me rivals give me aNGST ! pls

THERE FOR YOU // MARTIN GARRIX & TROYE SIVAN

( familial bff / cousin ) -- 00/01

pretty self explanatory here ! either a hardcore best friend that’s so close that they may as well be family, OR ! a legitimate cousin who is basically sibling at this point. i’m open to either option ! they have each others backs through thick and thin, and surely tell each other aLMOST everything. gimmie gimmie.

BEST ON EARTH // RUSS FEAT. BIA

( hookup / fwb ) -- 00/01

note ! this spot can be filled by any muse, as giada identifies as pansexual ! we can iron out the details of how this came about together. perhaps they were friends prior, or it just happened out of the blue at a party one night & it’s just been convenient to continue. just remember.. the biggest rule of a casual hookup ?? don’t catch feelings. but.. we’ve all seen the movies.

IF THE WORLD WAS ENDING // JP SAXE FEAT. JULIA MICHAELS

( ex-boyfriend ) -- 00/01

your typical angsty first love situation. possibly dated for a few years ( in high school or more recently in uni ), they ended up realizing that it just wasn’t working. even though they had love for each other, the pair had to split up. “ i know, you know, we know were weren’t meant for each other and it’s fine. ” they both knew it was just better that way. and now.. they just can’t seem to shake the feelings they had. “ but if the world was ending, you’d come over right ? ” asdfghg gIVE IT TO ME.

GOOD AS HELL // LIZZO

( squad ) -- 00/03

i’ll leave three spots open for this connection because what’s better than a squad ?? NOTHING ! any gender is welcome, of course ! giada is naturally a pretty friendly person ( unless you cross her, people she loves, or are straight up disrespectful ), but when it comes to her main gang -- she’s a ride or die kind of gal. your greatest hypeman. the mom friend. she’ll have your back no matter what, and you can count on that.

#✧ °˖ — Ｇ．ＶＩＴＡＬＥ / ( introduction )#hatchet:intro #this is trash and all over the place but pls love me

8 notes · View notes

daresplaining · 6 years ago

Note

not sure if you have been asked this before but how would you rate the daredevil runs from miller to soule, and why?

It has taken literally a thousand years to answer this, and I apologize– it’s just a huge question, even skipping all of the pre-Frank Miller runs (thank you for that, by the way– maybe I’ll rank them in a separate post, because I love a lot of the pre-Miller stuff!). Every reread brings with it new insight, and so my preferences are ever-evolving. That said, here’s how I would rank the main Daredevil runs from Miller onward (I’m not including annuals, mini-series, or novels, and I’m skipping the really tiny one-or-two-issue runs for the sake of brevity):

1. Mark Waid Daredevil volumes 3 and 4 are, for me, a perfect encapsulation of everything that makes Daredevil great. It’s all there! Smirking, swashbuckly Matt pulling off badass feats to save the day? Check! Dark, emotionally turbulent Matt trying to cope as the world falls apart around him? Check! An excellent supporting cast? Check! Fantastic hypersensory moments? Check! Great stories? Stunning art? Stilt-Man? Check! Everyone needs to read this run. It’s pretty much perfect.

2. Brian Michael Bendis I’ve learned that my Daredevil preferences tend to lean light(er…), but dang, Bendis writes a heck of a noir comic. He balances intense crime drama with striking character moments, changes the status quo over and over again (in a good way), and gives Matt some of the best zingers he’s ever had. (Seriously. Bendis’s Matt is really funny.) He also gave us Milla Donovan and Angela Del Toro, and for that I am eternally grateful. And whooo, that Alex Maleev/Matt Hollingsworth art… This is a classic, enduring run for a very good reason.

3. Karl Kesel/Joe Kelly Okay, I’m cheating here. These are two separate runs. But they happened back-to-back, had the exact same tone, and were great for all of the same reasons, so I usually squash them together. If Karl Kesel and Joe Kelly have a problem with this, they can take it up with me (preferably in person– I have a lot of comics for them to sign.) These runs are fun. The Daredevil pendulum swings from light to dark and back again, and these guys landed on the upswing, after Matt had reconnected with his quippy, swashbuckly past. They feel old-fashioned, nostalgic in the best possible way, not afraid to be a little silly while still delivering solid, character-rooted stories. And it helps that the cast of characters is top-notch. Karen is around, trying to re-start her life while juggling humorous relationship issues with Matt. Foggy’s family drama is on full-force as Rosalind Sharpe and Candace come to town. Misty Knight stops by, as does Natasha Romanov. Kathy Malpher, one of my favorite minor DD characters ever, has lots of panel time. Deuce the Devil Dog is there. And it all ends with the breathtaking DD #375, which has got to be one of my top five favorite issues of all time. If you haven’t read these runs yet, go do that and thank me later.

4. Frank Miller Darkness is only effective when interspersed with some light, and lightness is only effective when injected with some darkness, and Frank Miller (pre-”Born Again”) hit that perfect balance. It’s noir. It’s deep. It’s intense. It’s also some of the funniest Daredevil material ever written. Please go back and read “Guts”, or “Hunters”, or the Power Man and Iron Fist crossover. Let me say it louder, because I feel like I’m alone here: I love Frank Miller’s Daredevil because it is FREAKING HILARIOUS! And it goes without saying that “Born Again” is also stunning– definitely one of my favorite DD stories. And he gave us Stick and the peerless Elektra Natchios (three different versions of her, in fact) and the world has never been the same.

5. Denny O’Neil Denny O’Neil had the misfortune of getting sandwiched between Frank Miller’s two runs, and I feel like that’s the reason he doesn’t get the attention he deserves for some truly fantastic comics. Uh… weird comics, in a lot of cases, but heck, I like well-done weirdness. O’Neil added an international angle to the comic. He sent Matt to Japan and Italy (and even- gasp- New Jersey) and brought in Glori O’Breen, a great character even with her slightly over-the-top accent. He reconnected Matt with Natasha Romanov for a few beautiful one-shot team-ups. He killed off Heather Glenn in a horrible way, but did it with such grace and style that it didn’t feel entirely gratuitous. And he’s responsible for “The Price”– one of my favorite stand-alone issues. Plus, the fact that he was working with David Mazzucchelli didn’t hurt either.

6. Ann Nocenti Superhero comics– superhero comics writing in particular– has been a white male-dominated profession for far too long, and there are far too few women who have written Daredevil. I hate to start a discussion of Nocenti’s run with “Look! A woman!” but it’s worth pointing out because look at this list. Seriously. (And for anyone unfamiliar with the pre-Miller runs, I assure you, it’s more of the same.) Ann Nocenti’s run is fantastic for the ways it really digs into the heart of the material. She took the post-“Born Again” landscape and ran with it. This was the period that tied Matt to Hell’s Kitchen, and Nocenti made that plot point stick by showing us the fabric of the neighborhood, bringing in characters like the Fat Boys, placing Matt and Karen within the community with the founding of Karen’s free clinic, and turning the Hell’s Kitchen of the Marvel universe into a living, breathing place. In contrast, she also took Matt out of the city, and in doing so, wrote some of my favorite Daredevil stories. She wasn’t afraid to address pressing social issues. She wasn’t afraid to tell stories that were just plain weird. And her run is utterly unique and complex as a result.

7. Ed Brubaker/D.G. Chichester Yeah, okay, this is really cheating. These are two completely different runs, but they are nevertheless tied because of the same factor: I adore some parts, and dislike other parts. “The Devil in Cell Block D” (the first arc of Brubaker’s run) is phenomenal. I re-read it a lot. So is “Last Rites” (by Chichester). Chichester wrote two of my favorite stand-alone issues: “34 Hours” (vol. 1 #304) and “Just One Good Story” (vol. 1 #380). Brubaker gifted us with the awesomeness that is Maki Matsumoto (A.K.A. Lady Bullseye), and Master Izo! Chichester gave us D.A. Kathy Malpher, one of my favorite DD characters ever (bring her back, Marvel! Where did she go?)! Also, his hypersensory writing is visceral verging on gross– which, for me, is ideal. However, Brubaker’s run went downhill a bit after the first arc. I mentioned the light/dark balance in regards to Frank Miller’s run, and Brubaker went all dark. (I consider it the darkest DD run yet.) It’s great storytelling, but not my style. And while I love his shorter arcs, Chichester’s longer work– “Fall From Grace” and “Tree of Knowledge” in particular– don’t do it for me. I find them overly convoluted and lacking substance. Also, while Scott McDaniel draws my favorite rendition of the radar sense, he’s my least favorite DD artist. D.G. Chichester + Lee Weeks 4ever.

8. David Mack I like “Vision Quest” a lot more than “Parts of a Hole”, though that’s somewhat due to the artist switch partway through the latter. “Parts of a Hole” did an excellent job of introducing Maya Lopez, and has a lot of great moments, but “Vision Quest” is practically a piece of fine art. It’s stunning, both narratively and visually. I consider it more of an Echo comic than a DD comic, but it still belongs on this list.

9. Charles Soule I haven’t had a chance to reread this run in its entirety, since it just ended, and I really need to do so because I’m having a hard time figuring out my feelings on it. There are aspects of Soule’s characterization of Matt that I disagree with. The sensory writing varied in quality, and we clearly have different perceptions of the radar sense. There was a distinct shortage of female characters– and, in fact, of side characters in general. And the mind wipe was a huge misstep, since it erased so many of Matt’s long-held friendships. In a comic that has traditionally drawn much of its power from its strong supporting casts and Matt’s dynamics with them, that decision has caused serious lasting damage. However, there’s also a lot I loved. Sam Chung, though (I feel) underused, is a great character in his own right, and he also provided the chance for us to see Matt in a long-term mentorship role– something I’ve wanted for a while now. Muse was a fascinating and terrifying antagonist. And Soule’s perspective as an actual lawyer added extra zip to many of his stories, whether it was putting Matt in the mayor’s office (finally!) or sending him to the Supreme Court in what may be my favorite law-centered DD story ever. But the real reason Soule’s name is this far up this list is because of the “Double Vision” arc (or, as I call it, “Mike Murdock Must Die 2.0″) which is sheer brilliance, and to my mind, one of the greatest Daredevil stories ever told.

10. Bob Gale “Playing to the Camera” does not get nearly as much credit as it deserves for being a genuinely hilarious superhero law-based comedy of errors, and a bright spot amid the angst-fest that is Daredevil volume 2. My major complaints are that it’s too short and I dislike the art.

11. Andy Diggle I don’t dislike “Shadowland”. I don’t love it, but it’s a cool story concept that suffered– as events often do– from storytelling spread too thin, across too many characters, in too short a timespan. (Though I need to know if he came up with the “Matt Murdock dared evil… and lost” tagline, because if so, that wordplay would rocket him right to the top of this list.) I prefer the lead-up to “Shadowland” to the event itself. But I love DD: Reborn (yes, I said I wasn’t going to cover mini-series, but it’s essentially part of the main comic because it bridges the gap between two volumes. I say it counts). I’ve always enjoyed stories that take Matt out of NYC, and Reborn is a fun adventure story that gets back to basics and serves as a great bookend for volume 2.

12. Scott Lobdell I like “Flying Blind”. It’s quirky and unusual (which I appreciate), and Matt is written very well. I just don’t love it. It’s one of those arcs that slides right to the back of the memory and only returns to the forefront when you’re reflecting on the first time Matt ever saw Foggy, or wondering if Matt’s bad French in Brubaker’s run is left over from his SHIELD-implanted fluency. It’s a neat idea, but could have been executed in a more engaging, lasting way.

13. Gregory Wright This short run went right out of my head the instant I finished it the first time, and upon rereading it has remained fairly unmemorable. The art is hit-and-miss, and the story– while perfectly fine– isn’t anything exciting or innovative. There are some great hypersensory moments, it’s worth reading, but I don’t have much to say about it beyond that.

14. Alan Smithee “Alan Smithee” is a pseudonym used in the entertainment industry by writers who don’t want to be associated with a certain project. The commentary on manwithoutfear.com states that this run was actually written by Chichester, who used the pen name as a way of protesting his abrupt firing from the comic. I treat it as a separate run, since that’s clearly what he wanted. I always tend to group the Wright and Smithee runs together in my mind because they take place one after the other, are both very short (only 5 issues each), and are very similar in both tone and quality. I like the art in Smithee’s run more, and the writing is solid. However, the whole thing is colored for me by the horrific and unnecessary death of Glorianna O’Breen, a character I love. I’m perfectly fine with characters dying if their deaths are well-written and impactful (heck, I’ll be honest– I love a good death), but Glori’s demise just seems gratuitous, and is therefore not appealing to me.

15. J.M. DeMatteis This run is super weird, but not in an interesting way. It leans toward the religious, which is not my thing, and it relies on the dead sex worker storyline from Man Without Fear, which is really not my thing and should have stayed out of the main continuity. It’s good to read, because it’s a major shift in Matt’s life and sets up the fabulous Kesel/Kelly runs, but… eh. That said, Matt battling his different identities in a graveyard while getting heckled by Stick, and yellow suit DD running around creating mayhem, are 100% my things… so credit where’s it’s due.

16. Kevin Smith You may have noticed that “Guardian Devil”, the first arc of Daredevil volume 2, the run that rescued the series after its cancellation and brought Matt Murdock to the forefront of the Marvel street-level universe once more…! …is rarely ever mentioned on this blog. That’s because I really don’t like it. At all. I’m grateful to Smith for bringing readers back to DD, but would be happy if he never wrote these characters again. His run is poorly paced, out-of-character, and covers themes/topics/etc. that I personally don’t enjoy. I forced myself through it because I’m a Daredevil completist, but I haven’t read it again. I probably will someday, just to make sure I remember all of the key plot points, but… not yet.

#Daredevil #Asks #Commentary #Recommendations List

46 notes · View notes

sallowhillshq · 2 years ago

Text

.✾. ═ welcome to sallow hills. enjoy your stay.

i see we have a new member to our town. welcome, welcome ARWEN UNDOMIEL. we truly hope you enjoy your stay. please feel free to head over to bevin & cecil’s until you’re settled. i know it might be difficult right now and you might be missing your home. Gimli and Aragorn are already here though, so you won’t have to be alone.

══ raven we’re so excited to have your newest muse in sallow hills! you can re-find the welcome package in the source link & if you are using side blogs, make sure we know where your character is going.

╔═.✾. ═ LOG *** : ARWEN UNDÓMIEL | cis female, she/her | 2771 years old. Just spotted ARWEN / LADY OF RIVENDELL around town. Our records show that they remember [ some things ] from their source : lord of the rings (canon). They were first spotted in november 2022 and our best guess is that their last memory is jigsaw pieces of her life around the time of her marriage to Aragorn, the clearest memory being her choice to be mortal. Archivists watching them state that they still have the ethereal beauty that she scoffs at, a strong love that outmatches the greatest fighter, a will to protect those she loves, the sound of nightingales on her voice, and the soft smell of flowers and rainy nights vibe about them. ━ from Armes E. Sallow’s personal archives. ═.✾. ═╝ ↳・゜liv tyler . ↳・゜raven (they/them). 25. est. ↳・゜Arwen was born into a peaceful world, a few hundred years before the War of the Last Alliance. She grew and watched as her kind faded into obscurity, content in her life as she traveled with her grandparents. She remembers her mother being taken, found by her older twin brothers in the Misty Mountains. This event becomes hazy to her mind as she just barely remembers watching her mother fade before her choice to leave to the Blessed Realm. Her memories begin to falter, coming and going as she recalls the face of someone she cares deeply for–though it is blurred with mixed feelings of their first meeting onward, Arwen knows even in this new strange land that she has to find him even if she can’t remember his name. Arwen struggles greatly in this new realm, her being connected very deeply to the Earth and her knowledge of new-age technology at a striking 0%. It’s her mind that keeps her sane in the few days she’s been here, distracting her with stories of people she knows but cannot quite place. She almost wonders if she will go mad before she has been given the chance to find the owners of the faces in her visions.

#sallow hills (accepted)#lord of the rings rp #fandom rp

0 notes

chooseywoozy · 6 years ago

Text

A Courtesan of Rome: Chapter One - A Princess of Gaul

The year is 50 BCE. The Roman Republic is the most powerful nation in the world, and Julius Caesar is waging a campaign to conquer your homeland of Gaul. Tonight, you will make your debut as a courtesan and entertainer in Rome, at a party hosted by Senator Cassius Longinus.

You approach the lavish villa where you will make your debut, and knock on the door.

Arise: Smile… Be charming… And never let them know you want them all dead…

The door swings open, and a hush falls over the crowd of toga-clad patrician noblemen. Your bodyguard withdraws to the shadows as your villica, Lena, gestures dramatically, drawing all eyes.

Lena: Lords and Officers of the Senate… Our most esteemed host Senator Cassius Longinus…

Cassius: It is a honor to have you here.

Lena: Making her first appearance tonight, a beauty beyond compare, blessed by the Muses in all the arts, from composition to conversation…

All eyes follow as you cross the room, taking up your cithara.

Aris: Domina.

Patrician: Beautiful.

Patrician2: I’d like a taste of that…

Lena: Arise will now sing us the Song of Diana.

As you strum the first notes, the shimmering silk and gold time on your dress catches the fading sunlight.

Arise: Under Diana’s protection, we pure girls, and boys… We pure boys, and girls, we sing of Diana…

The crowd holds its breath as your flawless voice rings out, your ivory pick pulling each rippling note from the cithara’s seven strings. You watch the smug, self-satisfied faces of Rome’s elite, entranced by your singing, and feel a surge of pride and contempt. Slowing the music, you stretch your arms, letting the silk of your dress ripple along your sides as you perform the first, teasing movements of a dance.

Arise: Take whatever sacred name pleases you, be a sweet help to the people of Rome, as you have been of old.

Lena: Gentlemen, prepare yourselves for the prick of Cupid’s arrows, as you welcome the Princess of Gaul!

As you shift and drop your knee, the watching patricians burst into rapturous applause, snapping their fingers and flapping the ends of their togas. Lena whispers in your ear.

Lena: Remember, you need do nothing against your will… It’s time to meet your admirers.

Lena leaves quietly as you put the cithara down, readying your smile for the men who gather around.

Patrician2: A remarkable performance from a remarkable beauty. I had no idea Gallic women could even be trained to sing like that.

You roll your eyes inwardly, but carefully compose your face.

Arise: My thanks, domine.

You brace yourself for his kiss of greeting, but he has already turned to someone behind him.

Patrician2: You’re a lucky dog, Cassius! I’m changing my bet. My gold aureus against a night with her if Caesar’s taken Gaul.

Cassius: I told you already. I don’t bet on people’s lives.

The crowd parts and you see a tall handsome young man smiling warmly. He takes your hand and presses a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

Cassius: Arise, mea carissima, your song was as beautiful as you. Welcome to my home.

Aris: I could not ask for a more handsome patron.

Cassius smiles, and for a moment you can almost forget he is Roman. Behind his patrician features, his eyes hold an unexpected kindness.

Cassius: Fortune smiles on me to have you here tonight. I know many men were vying to be the first to host the Princess of Gaul.

Arise: You are… not what I was expecting.

Cassius: Is that a relief or a disappointment?

Teasingly, you circle one of his fingers with your own and hear his sharp intake of breath.

Arise: We’ll have to find out…

Cassius: Truly, you must take care tonight or risk Venus herself looking down in jealousy of your beauty.

Patrician2: She is a vision to rival the gods.

Cassius grimaces, but politely nods toward the other man to introduce him.

Cassius: This is Senator Lucius.

Senator Lucius: Charmed.

You stiffly accept Lucius’ greeting kiss, then move aside, whispering to Cassius.

Arise: I shall certainly be grateful that you are my patron and not him.

Cassius: My apologies that you must be here with him at all.

Arise: How is it that someone as young as you is even serving in the Senate?

Cassius: I… took my father’s seat when he passed.

Arise: I’m sorry. I didn’t realise…

Cassius: Rome and the Republic meant everything to him. He would have wanted nothing more than for me to serve in his stead.

Cassius gestures at one of the candles burning in the shrine.

Cassius: That one is for him.

You touch his arm comfortingly, and he takes a breath, giving you a determined smile as you both cross the room. Cassius offers you a cup of wine.

Cassius: I’m sorry. I was hoping to… make your debut wonderful for you. You didn’t come here to listen to me talk about my father.

You give him a mischievous grin.

Aris: Then, just what were you imagining I would do for you, Senator Cassius?

Cassius: Just ‘Cassius.’ Please. Though I must confess, I did have an ulterior motive in hiring you tonight…

Arise: And here I thought it was for the sheer pleasure of my company.

Cassius: How could I ever not want that? But… It’s not always easy to make inroads as a new member of the Senate. I knew your debut would be a draw even for those who normally ignore me.

Arise: Is there… something you would have me do for you, then, to… win favor from these senators?

Cassius: only what you were trained to do. Play the cithara, sing, dance. Mingle with the men and talk to them. Perhaps listen and tell me what you hear.

Arise: I will charm your guests for you.

Cassius smiles and kisses your hand again. The softness of his lips against your skin sends a delicious shiver through you.

Cassius: I have no doubt. Perhaps you will grace us all with another song later.

Arise: Of course.

As another guest arrives, Cassius excuses himself, and Senator Lucius sees his opportunity to approach. He looks you over with a leer.

Senator Lucius: It seems Cassius plucked the prettiest flower in Gaul for himself.

Arise: He is my patron for this evening, yes.

Messenger: Domine! I bring news!

You turn to see a young boy, flushed and sweating from exertion. Lucius turns to him in annoyance, then checks himself at the clear urgency in the boy’s voice. He draws him aside.

Senator Lucius: What is it? But softly. I would not have everyone know…

The boy nods and lowers his voice as the senator leans close. Strumming your cithara, you station yourself nearby, listening intently while keeping your face carefully turned away.

Messenger: I came as soon as I heard Marc Anthony is on his way, domine! He brings news of how Caesar’s final battle went in Gaul!

EIGHT YEARS AGO…

You and your family were taken captive in Gaul. Caesar’s general, Legate Aquila, has brought you to Rome to display in a Triumph, a massive military parade to celebrate their victory over your tribe.

Victus: Hold your heads up. These Romans think they have taken everything from us, but they cannot take our pride! I am still chief of the Cowtowny.

Arise: The Cowtowny are no more.

Your brother’s face ripples in fury.

Cingerix: We should have died defending them!

Victus: No, Cingerix! We are defeated, not dead. As long as we live, we still have a chance to win our freedom, to find happiness again.

Delphinia: The gods have shown me the future, Arise. I see us together again, free.

Arise: How, Mother? When?

Your mother shakes her head, eyes still misty.

Delphinia: There are many trials we must endure for it to come to pass…

Victus: We will endure. Armor yourselves with your love and your memories. We must all bide our time until we can escape and find vengeance.

Delphinia: I pray the gods give us strength.

Cingerix: The gods would not demand this humiliation!

Arise: I believe we must have faith. The greatest challenges are tests of the gods. We must prove we’re worthy.

Victus: You are a warrior, Arise. The Cowtowny live on in you.

Delphinia: I pray the gods hear you, daughter. But I fear they can be careless with their playthings.

Cingerix: The gods favor Rome! Why else would they let it grow so large?

Arise: If all the tribes had only worked together against Rom… If they had come to our rescue…

Victus: That is what Rome relied on. They are picking us off, one-by-one. We can only hope that our defeat might spur the rest to ally with each other before it is too late.

The wagon rolls and bumps through the jutted streets as crowds of Romans jeer and throw garbage.

Voices: Filthy Gaul…! Savages…! Rome will destroy you all…!

Your father stops, looking back and forth between you and Cingerix.

Victus: Remember that I love you, that your mother and I both love you. You will survive this.

The crack of a whip makes you all fall back. At the front of the wagon, a Roman in full military regalia stands tall, accepting the adulation of the crowd.

Legate Aquila: I am Legate Aquila, conqueror of the Cowtowny tribe, under the command of General Julius Caesar!

Voices: Praise Caesar! Praise Legate Aquila!

Legate Aquila: I present to you the barbarian chief and his family, forced to their knees by the might of Rome!

The crowd erupts in cheers of triumph! Legate Aquila casually kicks your father in the gut.

Legate Aquila: Kneel, barbarian! And admit that Jupiter Maximus is the greatest of all the gods!

You grit your teeth and keep your head down as your father bows his head, eyes flashing with hatred.

Victus: I admit it.

Legate Aquila: Louder!

You father grinds the words out slowly through gritted teeth.

Victus: Hail… Jupiter… Maximus… Greatest of all gods…

Legate Aquila: Behold great Caesar’s conquest! The barbarian admits the might of Rome!

Legate Aquila kicks your father in the face, leaving a streak of blood on his lip, then turns his attention to the crowd. Your father gathers you close.

Victus: Listen to me. We don’t have much time.

Arise: What do you mean?

Victus: After the Triumph, they will separate us, sell us away from each other.

Arise: No--

Victus: It won’t be forever, Arise, I promise. But I need you all to swear a vow.

Cingerix: I will not submit--

Vicuts: Promise me, all of you, whatever you have to do, you will survive.

Delphinia: I vow it, by the gods of earth and sea, of life and death.

Victus: Promise to do whatever it takes to find each other again and get our vengeance on these Romans who destroyed us.

Arise: I vow to go to the ends of the earth to find you.

Your mother squeezes your hand tightly, tears running freely down her cheeks.

Delphinia: The gods tell me it will be many years before we see each other again, Arise. Do not forget us.

Arise: Never! I will play docile. I will cooperate. And I will wait for the first moment I am free to find you.

Delphinia: Whatever happens to you, wherever they send you, remember that we are still searching for you. Do all that you can to find us again.

Victus: You know the men most responsible for what happened. Legate Aquila, his tribunes, and Julius Caesar, the one who gave him his command. Hunt them down and make sure they suffer as we have suffered.

Your father uses the jagged edge of one manacle to cut a shallow slice in each of your palms. He presses yours to his.

Victus: May the gods bind you with this vow.

Delphinia: May they guide you and protect you, that you will live to see your promises fulfilled.

Cingerix: May they strike Legate Aquila dead now, or admit they’re powerless to help us!

Victus: I vow that whatever it may cost me, I will find you all again and see Legate Aquila drowned in blood!

Cassius: Are you alright? Arise?

You come back to yourself with a start, fingers moving on the cithara strings again, and see Cassius’ worried face close to yours.

Cassius: Is something wrong?

You look around and see that Lucius’ messenger has disappeared, but Lucius and several of his cronies are watching you and Cassius with suspicion. You pull your face into a smile.

Arise: I’m fine.

Cassius: Are you certain? You looked… worried.

Arise: I will not ruin your party with my musings.

Watching Lucius and the other senators from the corner of your eye, you firmly clamp down on your remembered anger.

Arise: I wanted to ask if there was a special song you would like me to play.

Cassius: Your song of Diana was lovely, but surely not something you used to sing in Gaul. I would love to hear a song from your homeland.

He winces as the smile freezes on your face. Cassius pulls you aside, into a small chamber off the main room.

Cassius: It must be difficult to escape such talk. The whole city has been waiting to hear of Caesar’s final battle in Gaul.

Arise: Is it the final battle? I thought the outcome was still in doubt.

Cassius: The tribes have all united under one leader Caesar and all his legates have them surrounded at the city of Alesia. Either he will triumph there, or Gaul will crush his army.

Arise: Then there is still a chance that Gaul may break free?

Cassius: It will all be decided at Alesia, one way or another. I’m sorry. I should not have brought this up with you. I have no wish to cause you pain.

Arise: It is not you who brought it up. Senator Lucius received word from Marc Anthony.

Cassius: From Anthony? Then the battle must be over. We have only to learn who won.

You both glance through the doorway to see Senator Lucius now smugly ensconced in a corner, whispering with a small knot of men. Cassius gives you a level look, all bashfulness gone, and you get a hint of how he has thrived in the Senate despite his youth.

Cassius: I hope you know, the Senate never ordered Caesar to invade Gaul. He did it against our wishes, to build his personal power.

Arise: From what I’ve seen, all of Rome celebrates his victories.

Cassius: The people love him. He gives them a taste of glory and conquest. But in the Senate, not everyone likes the power he is building.

Arise: Why? They never tried to stop him before.

Cassius leans close, voice soft as he glances at the door to be sure he isn’t overheard.

Cassius: I have long tried to convince my father and the Senate that Caesar’s ambitions don’t stop at the Alps. I believe he would crown himself King if he could.

Arise: There are no kings in Rome!

Cassius: No, Rome has not had a king for more than four hundred years. But I’m no longer the only one who worries that Caesar means to use his army to crown himself and put an end to our Republic.

You hear a guest calling from outside.

Guest: Cassius! I heard a rumor there was to be food at this party!

Cassius: Excuse me.

You follow Cassius out into the main room, where you hear a quiet knock at the door. You open it and see a beautiful young woman in the blue gown of a respectable Roman wife.

Young Woman: Oh! I- I didn’t realise… I was just here to see my cousin. I didn’t realise he had company… Especially someone as beautiful as you…

A loud burst of laughter comes from inside and the young woman flinches.

Young woman: Oh, he’s, um, it sounds like there are a lot of people here. I’ll just… see Cassius another time.

Arise: I’m sure Cassius will want to see you.

You smile at her, trying to set her at ease, but she looks away from your gaze, jaw tightening every time she hears the men’s voices from across the room.

Young Woman: You’re very kind. I should go. I should not be unescorted when there are strange men inside.

Arise: Should I tell Cassius you were here?

You follow the young woman outside as she hurries back to her litter.

Young Woman: If you like. Tell him I’ll come back tomorrow.

The litter-bearers kneel to allow her to climb inside.

Arise: Wait! What’s your name?

Sabina: Sabina.

Arise: I’m Arise. I hope to see you again.

Sabina gives you a sad look before the litter drapes closed without answering. As you turn back to the door, you see that Senator Lucius has followed you outside.

Senator Lucius: Ah, our lovely Gallic princess… I was hoping you were still here. Something about tonight puts me in mind to sample the wares of Gaul.

He reaches out to touch your face and you step out of reach.

Senator Lucius: Fine. Then how much will this buy me?

Curling his lip, he tries to hand you a gold aureus. You knock it aside.

Arise: I’m not interested!

Senator Lucius takes a step closer, reaching out to grab your arm… When suddenly, your bodyguard melts out of the shadows to throw him up against the wall of the villa, shoulder and knee pinning him in place!

Bodyguard: You will not touch her again! Arise is not your property! She’s a courtesan from the finest scholae in Rome…

EIGHT YEARS AGO, After the Triumph…

You stand in chains in a lavish room, the first time you’ve ever been inside a Roman building.

Arise: Why have you brought my here?

Legate Aquila talks in rapid Latin with an elegant woman. You don’t fully understand them, but you follow enough to realize that the legate is trying to sell you.

Woman: And why should I be interested in bringing this girl into my scholae?

Legate Aquila: She is a princess of Gaul, daughter of a defeated chief. Do you know how many men would pay good coin for her?

Arise: I am not yours to sell, monster!

The woman looks intrigued by your outburst.

Woman: Whose are you, then, little princess?

Arise: I belong to no one by myself. You may pay him coin for me and shackle me like a beast, but I will never belong to you!

The woman gives a decisive nod.

Woman: I’ll take her.

Arise: No!

Legate Aquila: Two thousand sesterces--

The woman waves her hand dismissively.

Woman: Take it up with my factor. I have better things to do than haggle.

Before you can even register what is happening, a servant has escorted the legate to the door, leaving you alone with your new mistress.

Arise: I am Arise of the Cowtowny! I won’t be your slave!

Woman: No. You won’t.

She gestures to a servant.

Woman: Get those chains off her.

The servant quietly unlatches the fetters from your arms and legs. You stand for a moment, rubbing the sores they left on your skin.

Woman: I am Lena. And this is my scholae, where I train the finest courtesans in Rome.

Arise: I will whore myself to no man.

Lena: Nor do I ask you to. I bought your freedom because I think you would rather earn money for me than be the slave Legate Aquila would make you. In my scholae, you can become one of the most influential women in Rome. You will learn to read and write, to recite poetry and play the cithara.

Arise: Why would I want that?

Lena: Because it gives you freedom. More freedom than any woman in Rome. As a courtesan you alone can go unescorted into the spaces where men decide our lives. And you will learn how to make them do anything for you.

Arise: What would I need to do?

Lena: You will train in the arts and graces until I say you are ready to make your debut as a companion and entertainer to Rome’s elite. As a courtesan of my scholae, you would have many patrons, some for a night or two, others for years if you keep their interest.

Arise: I can guess how you expect me to ‘keep their interest.’

Lena: I won’t ask you to do anything against your will, Arise.

Arise: Then why would any ‘patron want me?

Lena: You are a princess of Gaul. With my training, you will learn to make any Senator give his fortune just for the touch of your hand. It is the most power any woman can have.

Arise: Teach me to wield this power.

Lena: Good.

Lena looks at you pointedly.

Lena: Every girl I’ve ever taken on has had men who wronged her. You will hardly be the first to win a man’s love with only hate in your heart. As long as you’re bringing money to my scholae, I care little what you choose to do with the rest of your time.

Arise: … Show me what to do.

Lena calls over a large man in enameled white armor.

Lena: This is Syphax. He will be your bodyguard.

Syphax: You need fear nothing in my care.

Lena: I expect you to keep her safe, not only from men, but from her own worst impulses.

Syphax: Of course, domina.

Lena smiles, then runs a finger over your filthy cheek, still matted with blood and woad.

Lena: Now, I think a bath. If you want to beguile the men of Rome, you will have to learn to pass for Roman…

Syphax is still holding Senator Lucius.

Syphax: Nothing happens unless the lady offers first. Understand?

Senator Lucius: You have no right to lay hands on me!

Arise: Syphax… I can handle this myself. I have no interest in your patronage, Senator.

You give Syphax a tight nod, and he reluctantly releases the senator.

Syphax: My apologies for not intervening sooner, Arise. Lena wanted me to stay out of sight as much as possible during your debut.

Arise: Of course.

Several of the other guests have congregated at the doorway, drawn by the commotion. They move to make way as Lucius stalks inside.

Senator Lucius: You will regret this, girl. I offered your fair work for fair pay and you set your dog on me.

Arise: You insulted the honor of Lena’s scholae. You insulted me. You insulted my bodyguard. And you insulted our host, my patron.

You sneak a glance at the watching patricians, who are riveted by your fury.

Arise: You should be ashamed of yourself, Senator Lucius!

Several of the gathered men turn away from Lucius, shaking their heads. Cassius grasps Lucius firmly by the arm.

Cassius: Aris is my guest tonight, Lucius. Are you all right, Arise?

Lucius looks to the other patricians for support, but no one steps up.

Patrician: ...Terrible way to treat one of Lena’s finest courtesans…

Cassius: The food is served, Lucius. Perhaps we should go eat it before it gets cold.

With an apologetic look, Cassius leads the other senator away, leaving you alone with Syphax.

Syphax: You never did answer Cassius’s question…

Arise: What question?

Syphax: ‘Are you all right?’

Arise: I was just remembering how I came here. Lena gave me a chance at a life I never thought I would have.

Syphax: But a far different one than what you would have chosen.

Arise: I know my role here, Syphax. Look. I’m still smiling.

Syphax: And I know mine.

Arise: To protect Lena’s investment.

Syphax meets your gaze firmly, his brown eyes warm.

Syphax: To protect you. And not just from violence. You know it can be dangerous to wear your emotions too openly.

Your eyes sting with sudden tears, and you drop your gaze.

Arise: I thought after all this time, I would be better at hiding.

Syphax: The men are going to the other room to eat. You can take time to recover if you need it.

Arise: I know better than to let the words of a pig like Lucius affect me. But… his messenger told him that Marc Antony brings news back to the city. He’ll know whether Caesar was repelled or has conquered all of Gaul. He’ll know if Legate Aquila will finally return to Rome and be within my reach…

Syphax lays a comforting hand on your shoulder, turning you to face him.

Syphax: Then you definitely need time to recover. Perhaps we could take a moment to pray for your family?

Arise: I have prayed. Even when I knew no one was listening. It has done nothing.

Syphax: You can’t know that. You are here and safe and alive. If your parents pray, do you think they would ask for more than that? Perhaps your prayers have done as much for them.

Arise: I just wish I knew.

Syphax: Come, make an offering with me. If nothing else, it will give us a moment to spend alone… away from curious eyes.

Arise: Perhaps I would feel better if I took a moment…

Most of the guests have moved further inside, leaving the shrine relatively shielded from the clamor of voices. You sigh in relief.

Arise: In Gaul, we never spent so much time inside walls. You forget how loud they make everyone seem.

Syphax: And seeing you tonight, as beautiful and polished as the most sophisticated noblewoman, you forget you’re still a barbarian inside.

You give Syphax a mock glare.

Arise: Take that back.

Syphax: It’s true. No one who looked at you would think you were born to anything but luxury. Are you breathing more easily now?

Arise: I’m still a little shaken up. It’s been so long since I was in Gaul. Some days… I barely even think about it. But…

Syphax: But then you feel worse, because how can you have forgotten?

Arise: All this time I’ve been here, Caesar is still in Gaul, still killing people… People like me.

Syphax: You remember, my people were defeated by Rome as well.

Arise: That’s right. You don’t talk about it often--

Syphax: No. My land of Numidia, what Rome calls ‘Africa,’ was brought under Rome when my parents were children.

Arise: Why did you leave?

Syphax: My father took part in an uprising… what Rome decided was an uprising. They sent me away from him, put me in the legions for a time. I preferred to make my own way.

Arise: What happened to your family?

Syphax: Perhaps we should make an offering in our families’ memories.

Arise: I will make an offering in their honor. They are not dead.

Syphax: Of course.

Arise: We swore we would find each other again. No matter what it took.

Syphax: I hope you do. For me, it was easier to move forward once I let go.

Syphax takes out a silver coin with two ears of grain imprinted on one side.

Syphax: Great Mother Isis, accept this gift as you accepted the souls of my family. Care for them and hold them close.

He lays the silver coin on the shrine, where it reflects the dancing torchlight.

Syphax: Do you want to make an offering?

You pull a ring from your finger, plain gold, set with an unpolished stone. You lay it on the shrine.

Arise: Gods of my ancestors, I offer you this ring. Protect my family, wherever they might be.

You pause to consider what prayer to offer.

Arise: Please, gods, keep my family safe.

You lower your head, tears pricking at your eyelids as you pray silently.

Arise: (Just keep them safe, please. Even if I never find them again, I just want them to live and be free.)

You lift your head, looking at your offering.

Arise: I have little of my own to offer. The gods may think I have nothing worthwhile to give them.

Syphax takes your hand, turning it over to see the groove left on your finger where the ring had been.

Syphax: The gods accept any offer sincerely made.

Arise: But they do little to grant the prayers of anyone but Rome.

Syphax glances at you in concern. You shake your head and smile.

Arise: You were right. I was too bitter to stay at the party. I feel… lighter now.

Syphax: To look at you now, no one would guess how much you’ve gone through.

Arise: But they all know. I am ‘the Princess of Gaul,’ am I not? That is how Lena sells me.

Syphax: You look as though you were born to the highest ranks of Rome. But with a fire in you no proper Roman daughter would be allowed.

Arise: I shall be the best Roman. If I must live as one I them, I shall show there is nothing they can do better than me.

Syphax: You will draw the eye of every man in Rome. And make every wife jealous. It is my job and duty to protect you, Arise. But you have more than just my service as a bodyguard. I hope you will always see me as a true and loyal friend.

Arise: Your friendship is valuable to me. I have been here eight years and there is no one else in Rome I would call ‘friend’ yet.

Syphax: I am honored by your trust.

Suddenly, you hear Cassius’s voice from the other room.

Cassius: Arise? Arise…? Where did she go?

Arise: I should… return to the party.

With one look back at your offerings on the shrine, you and Syphax turn to meet the guests who are returning to the front room. You make your way back to Cassius, who takes your hands graciously.

Cassius: My sincere apologies for Senator Lucius, Arise. He should not have presumed to lay hands on you. I’m glad your bodyguard was there to protect you.

Arise: That’s why he’s here.

Cassius: I should have known Lucius would not respect my home. There are many men I must work with in the Senate. Most of them are not who I would pick if I had the choice.

Arise: I wish we could just be alone together.

Cassius gives a slow smile and brushes a kiss on your cheek, murmuring softly.

Cassius: As do I.

He gives a disappointed glance at the guests still milling behind him. Suddenly, the room goes silent!

Outside, you hear the steady beat of marching feet. Everyone looks to the door and you hear the rattle of armor as someone approaches. Cassius meets your gaze with apprehension as his front door slams open to reveal a sharp-eyed man, dressed as if he has come straight from the battlefield.

Marc Antony: Greetings, Cassius.

Cassius: Antony…

Senator Lucius: Marc Antony… Back from fighting the barbarian hordes.

Antony surveys the room, taking in the shock and trepidation with clear enjoyment.

Marc Antony: I’ve just returned from the front. I bring you news of Caesar’s victory in Gaul!

The words hit you like a blow.

Arise: Gaul has fallen. I can never go home again…

Thoughts on the episode…

First of all, the music is absolutely wonderful and I love every second of it. It captures the feel of the story perfectly and each soundclip fits exactly right at each moment without feeling inappropriate.

I will say the story hasn’t immediately captured me the way others have, but this seems like the kind of story that requires a build-up and has a slow-burn release of information to keep you coming back. But it was a decent length even without the diamond scenes and the diamond scenes themselves weren’t too expensive - 12 diamonds for a diamond scene was perfectly acceptable to build your relationship with a love interest - especially considering they’ve been known to charge 30 diamonds for much less.

For Marc Antony himself to have come straight back from battle and head straight to Cassius’s house… what kind of power does Cassius’s family have???? We should pursue him as a love interest for status alone!

Fave Character of the Chapter: Lena

Least Fave Character of the Chapter: Cingerix

#a courtesan of rome #acor #choices acor #choices #playchoices #playthrough

3 notes · View notes

miraiconnection · 2 years ago

Note

“Thinking’s only going to slow you down! Ash to Misty

@imgonnaketchumall

"Maybe some of us are okay with jumping into things without knowing what they're doing, but I'd rather not risk getting us into even more trouble! Now shut up and let me think!"

#imgonnaketchumall #Muse; The world's greatest beauty | Misty #//-replies to this super late-

2 notes · View notes

simone-garnett · 7 years ago

Text

Title: the one where they’re f.r.i.e.n.d.s. word count: 12 360 rating: M. referenced sex but nothing explicit. Information: day vii of the killervibe fic week. friends to lovers, or as i prefer f.r.i.e.n.d.s to lovers.

ao3 // ffn

Iris and Eddie decide to get married in London.

It is an interesting location, and their uncertain about committing to it. But the others are completely supportive of it. And it is a small group of them; Eddie alone in the world, his friends also Iris’. And they deserved something lavish, something extravagant.

And so they all travel there, Iris and Eddie, Joe, Barry, Caitlin, Cisco, Wally, Jesse and Linda. Harry stays behind in Central City, mumbling about the city needing someone to stay and watch over it, STAR Labs needing at least one person to maintain it during the week that they would be gone.

(Cisco leans into Caitlin while Harry rambles away, telling her that Harry was secretly afraid of flying.

She struggles to stifle her laugh, and she is sure Harry heard, the older man pausing mid sentence, eyes scrutinising her before he continues on.)

And after months of planning and organisation the week comes, the group arriving in Heathrow in the early hours of the morning, sluggish in their movements as they collect their luggage and hail a taxi. They require a few between all of them. Caitlin and Cisco manage to share a taxi between them, Cisco rolling his neck the entire cab ride, bemoaning the fact he had forgotten his neck pillow in America. She is more asleep than awake, her head drooping down before she manages to startle herself awake. It takes ten minutes before Cisco sighs, a hand on her shoulder as she falls easily into him, allowing herself to be overcome by sleep.

It is a far too short trip, Caitlin muses, being shaken awake by Cisco when the taxi is in front of their hotel. Or at least, Cisco is a really comfortable pillow and she wonders if she can convince him to let her sleep against him for a few more hours.

He does.

The pair of them unload their luggage and pay the driver, Cisco sending off a text to Barry to not disturb them before they both crash Cisco’s hotel room, his arms open as she crawls to him, Caitlin asleep before she properly settles against him. The vibration of his phone alarm a few hours later has him reaching out, hitting snooze before falling asleep.

But she cannot ignore it a second time, Caitlin reluctantly pulling herself away, a drowsy thank you to Cisco as she slips out of his room and opposite the hall to her own.

He feels colder laying in the bed without her, feels strange, wrong.

And Cisco can’t go back to sleep.

The week is spent in a mixture of helping Eddie and Iris with the final details of their wedding and sight seeing around the city. It is all beautiful, Caitlin getting misty eyed as she sees Iris in her wedding dress, a vision of white, a breathtaking smile on her lips as they nod to the dressmaker.

He had been responsible for ensuring the church was ready and prepared for the weekend, and Caitlin catches Cisco before he goes sleep one night, his eyes alight as he describes the location to her.

She sighs wistfully at the description, mind wandering as it paints an illustration of the location. He cuts himself off the moment he realises what she’s doing, his smile falling a fraction and then falling completely. Their goodnights are tainted with bittersweet memories, of another church which was going to hold a wedding, but instead had a funeral.

Sleep comes to them eventually, but it comes with restlessness and memories they would prefer to be forgotten.

They have an engagement dinner the next night, the group booking themselves at an exclusive restaurant, with large price tags and small portions. But it is worth it, a warm environment and laughs and an explosion of flavour on their taste-buds.

It’s wonderful, but then there is Eddie and Iris feeding each other dessert, the pair making faces at each other as they spoon the cake into the other’s mouth, laughing at the reaction. They distract her from her own dish, chocolate mousse sitting abandoned as she watches them be in love, so utterly in love.

“Do you think I’ll ever get that?” The words were supposed to stay in her mind, but they slip out, Cisco sitting beside her, catching her words.

“Of course Caitlin.”

She sighs, longing looks at the engaged couple, subconsciously rubbing her bare finger. The action is stopped by Cisco, his hand covering hers, a sympathetic look on his face as he pulls her closer, Caitlin resting her head on his shoulder. They don’t need to exchange words, Caitlin entwining their fingers together, a soft exhale leaving her lips.

Ronnie was on her mind, on both their minds now, the wedding she had planned never occurring, a funeral taking place instead. It had been years ago, but weddings were always a difficult thing to endure, always reminding her of what she was denied, what she longed for. “I don’t think so.” It comes out with a choked sob, her chair scraping against the floor as she pushes it back, rushing to her feet, an excuse on her lips about needing the bathroom.

He catches up to her, Cisco willing to follow her to the ends of the earth. The corridor where the bathrooms are located is as far as he needed to go. “Hey,” he calls out and she stills, shoulders up and arms pulled into herself. His hands are warm on her shoulders and she turns easily as he guides her, spinning her around to face him. But her gaze is concentrated on the ground below, chin pushing into her neck as she avoids even glancing at his feet. “Hey, look at me.” She does, eyes so open, her heart vulnerable. And he feels his shatter at the pain on her expression, the glossy sheen over her eyes making her eyes shine in the candlelight. He is barely aware of his thumb stroking the bare skin of her shoulder, or her hand resting on his chest, over his heart. “Caitlin, you’re a beautiful, wonderful, stunning, intelligent person. And anyone would be lucky to call you their wife. So none of this crap okay?”

She replies with a hug, Caitlin pressing her face against the crook of his neck, her arms tight around his torso. It takes him by surprise, Cisco pulling her closer, breathing deeply as the hug lingers. “Thank you,” she whispers, lips brushing against the skin behind his ear and it takes all his willpower to not shudder at the touch.

She pulls her face away, and he meets her gaze. “Anytime Caitlin.” Earnestness permeates his tone and she smiles for the first time that night. He doesn’t want to leave her side and she doesn’t let him, Caitlin gravitating to his side throughout the night, talking to him, touching him.

She relaxes with him and by the end of the night she is giggling carefree at his corny jokes. And he knows they are, but they bring a smile to her face and grace his ears with her laughter, so he considers them some of the greatest jokes he knows.

But he hates that it is as they are entering their hotel rooms. They drop Barry at his room, their own a few doors down. And soon they are standing in front of their rooms, Cisco on one side, Caitlin opposite. The hug goodnight gently and quick and he lets her go, lips quirking into a smile as he says goodnight, taking the few steps to his room.

He is stopped with a hand on his shoulder, small and dainty and Caitlin’s. Cisco turns instantly, head tilted. “The night’s still quite young,” she starts hesitantly. “And the wedding is happening in the afternoon.” He doesn’t say anything as she pauses again, lips pursed as she tries to get her words out. But then finally, “do you wanna get drunk?”

“Alright, so if you’re gonna get smashed and laid... who are we going with here?”

It had taken them a few drinks before the idea arrived to Cisco, the man jumping up at the idea, startling Caitlin as he beams at her. The club they had found was everything they were looking for, strong alcohol and a good beat enough to convince them to stay. She rejects the idea outright, no one in the club taking her interest. He pouts, complaining that she hadn’t looked, reminding her that it was for her benefit, and so she gives a cursory glance around before affirming her previous statement.

No one here was that interesting.

He swears to prove her wrong. All she needs to is go along with the idea.

Caitlin had then nodded slowly at his idea, going along with it more for Cisco than herself. But he was certain it would help her mood, endorphins and wonderful memories formed at this wedding hopefully enough to dampen the sting of her past. So he had dragged her to a booth, somewhere isolated where they could check out the strangers in the club.

She sits down beside him, more interested in her drink than the other people, but he carries on determined to find someone for her.

“Oh!” Cisco looks excited. “That guy looks cute.” Caitlin barely spares him a glance before nodding. “Caitlin,” he whines. “You have to look at him.”

She does this time, her gaze slowly raking up him, lips moistened with her tongue as she runs her eyes back down him. And it leaves Cisco feeling unsettled, his best friend blatantly checking a person out with the intention of seducing them. He quells the feeling, the good of Caitlin of more importance than his emotions.

“He’s good,” she concedes. “But I haven’t really flirted with anyone in a while. Don’t think it’d go that well.”

“Oh.” And he realises she is right. “Okay, practice on me then.”

That startles her, the empty cup slipping from her grasp, falling on its side and rolling on the table. “What?” Her voice is hoarse and he doesn’t get why.

“Flirt with me. I mean, who better to give you advice?”

She bites back a retort and he can see her push it back. “Are you serious Cisco?”

“Yeah,” and he sounds less confident, he feels less confident. But he wants to help her, Caitlin’s eyes searching his. And whatever she is looking for she finds it, a resolute look crossing her face.

No words come from her mouth, Caitlin giving him a critical look before it slips away. He feels nervous, heart rate picking up and she hadn’t yet made a move. She slides closer to him, her curves pressing against his side as she cups his chin, turning his head to look at her. It must be the lighting because her pupils appear blown, eyes dark as she drinks him in. “Hey handsome.” It is a throaty whisper and his hands itch to hold her, Cisco clenching them by his side, desperate for restraint.

He is in over his head already and she has barely started. He wonders how he would ever be expected to forget this moment.

Her hands are normally so cold, but now they are burning through his shirt, fire left in its wake as she runs them over his torso. “Do you remember asking me whether I’d date you if you were the last guy on Earth?” It’s a strange pick up line, he thinks. But the memory is on the forefront of his mind now, Caitlin laughing at the question, a teasing smile on her lips as she calls him her brother.

It had stung a bit, though not more than the jellyfish had her, he remembers with a smile.

She leans forward, hot breath ghosting his skin, lips brushing against his ear lobe. “I lied. And when you asked me if I wanted to take any of the guys home in this club and I said no.” Her hand reaches his neck, runs itself through his hair. And he grumbles deep inside his chest, the most delectable noise leaving Caitlin’s throat as she hears it, as she feels the vibration against her own chest. She leans into him, and he can feel her every curve, is sure that if he’d only look down, he would see a few as well. His hands find her hips, holding her firmly against him, praying she couldn’t feel him stiffening underneath her.

He is looking up at her and oh, he realises belatedly, when did she move from beside him to on top of his lap? She is straddling him now, her hair falling over the sides of her face, blocking them off from the world. “What about that?” His voice is strained and she is cruel, rolling her hips against his erection.

Her lips skim across the line of his jaw, barely touching his skin, only enough to have sparks erupt with her touch. And he wants to growl at her to commit, because this teasing was driving him crazy. “I was lying then too.”

“Oh?” he forces out, artificial lightness injected in his tone. Because he can’t make any assumptions, can’t be lead by his emotions and feelings in a time like this.

“Yeah,” she whispers and they are nose to nose, lips touching whenever she spoke, just a touch, but enough to send fire through his veins, enough to steal the oxygen from his lungs. “Because you were here.”

It is wet and messy, their first kiss, and he can taste the fruitiness of her cocktail on her tongue, is sure she can taste his beer. There is no careful treading near the boundaries of their friendship, they storm across the line drawn in the sand, blowing it away as they made out in a darkened and isolated area of the club. Every fantasy Cisco had about kissing her, during those hours right before dawn where his mind would wander to things he normally denied, even to himself - all of them imagined their first kiss to be sweet, shy touches and gentle caresses. He had never imagined it like this. Rough. Frantic. Intoxicating. His tongue sweeps into her mouth, swallowing her moan, holding back his own as she grinds against him. And he can’t have enough, his hands holding her body against his, one drifting up to her hair, Cisco tangling his fingers in her hair. It’s perfect, she’s perfect. And he doesn’t want to pull away, not even to breathe, not if she may come to her senses and realise she could have any guy in this club easily. Including him.

They do eventually pull away, Caitlin biting his bottom lip as she does so, tugging it before letting it go with a pop.

“That was great practice,” she manages through laboured breaths, Caitlin’s fingers slipping underneath his shirt, dragging a nail lightly against the bottom of his stomach, just over the top of his pants, and she watches his reaction. His hips jerk up instinctively, eyes burning. “But I really think I need to practice some more.” Her eyes are dark and lips swollen and he is so totally screwed.

He gulps in a breath and she is holding hers in anticipation. “I’ll call us a cab.”

He wakes up in his hotel room, naked and aching in all the best places. And not alone. Her head is a nice weight on his chest, hair spread across her back and his neck, tickling his nose. They had sex together. Multiple times. And, he can’t help but admit, it was magnificent. But of course it would be, they knew each other for years, knew the other like they knew themselves, so of course sex would be no different, each inch of skin a new mystery they would easily learn and love.

A question floats through his mind, Cisco wondering whether he should wake sleeping beauty from her slumber. He decides against it - he would enjoy as much peace as he could be afforded and deal with the fallout later. Now though, now he will bask in the memories he was granted.

It lasts all of five minutes, a knock on the door waking her up. It’s comical, the way her head lifts from his chest, eyes wide and she looks like she is going to panic, she is panicking. He doesn’t think about his actions, Cisco pulling her head back against his chest, pulling up his blanket until it is covering her body up.

And then Barry strolls in, bouncing around. “Dude, what are you doing? Iris is getting married today!” The glee in his eyes is a sharp difference to his reaction to that of her dating Eddie, Barry now fully moved on from his crush on her, opening up his heart again.

“And you’ll be the prettiest bridesmaid Barry,” Cisco says drily, but the barb misses, Barry grinning harder at the words.

“Thanks Cisco.” Barry looks as though he wants to say something more, but Caitlin is still hiding underneath Cisco’s blanket, she is still pressed up against his body and she is most definitely still nude while doing so.

“So don’t you think you should be, you know, actually helping Iris right now Bar. I mean, isn’t that what being the maid-of-honour means.” And his eyes widen, a curse leaving Barry’s mouth as he runs out of the building at top speed, the door slamming behind him.

It is only when he’s left alone Cisco relaxes. But he’s not alone, Caitlin’s head darting out from the blanket, head turned to the door before twisting back to Cisco, gaze dropping down to his naked chest before immediately flickering back to his face, eyes wide and cheeks red.

“We slept together.” He can’t tell if she is surprised or horrified. He thinks it’s a mixture of both.

“Yes.”

“You and me.”

She still is leaning into him, her hand resting on his chest as balanced herself on him. “Pretty sure.” His voice is a little strained, but to be fair she is so close and it’s early in the morning and all he wants to do it touch her skin.

“We slept together.” She is panicking, voice shrill and loud and he needs to calm her down.

He pulls himself up into a sitting position, Caitlin leaning back, sitting on her legs, breathing heavy. “Alright Caitlin, I think you need to breathe for a bit. Copy me,” And he does exaggerated breaths, hands on her shoulder as he holds her steady and together. She copies him, and soon she is breathing normally, a grateful smile on her face.

“You okay?” And even in this situation he is soft with her, Cisco taking her hand in his, squeezing it gently. She gives him a small nod, and he breathes a sigh of relief. “Okay good. Also do you mind putting a shirt on. Not that I don’t mind the view, I do, it’s just...” He drifts off Caitlin having glanced down and realised the state of her undress. She scrambles out of the bed and he dutifully looks away, laughing as she picks up the first shirt she can grab - his - and slips it over her head. She runs wildly around, her bra hanging on the bed frame, underwear missing and prepares to leave. The pause at the door gets his attention, hair flying and her head turns to face him.

“We need to be downstairs in two hours Cisco.” Then she slips out the door, her hotel room opposite his own, the key in her hand.

And she disappears, leaving him and his thoughts alone. Collapsing back on his bed he sighs. This would go one of two ways, and both paths frightened him.

She was early to the chapel. He doesn’t think she would be, but that was a stupid thought. When was Caitlin ever late for anything? She’s like a nervous cat, jumping at his presence behind her, skittish and unsure how to proceed. “Hey Cisco.” She sounds happy, bubbly. But it is all wrong, it isn’t genuine and Cisco hates it.

He sighs, taking her hand in his, fiddling with the ring she was wearing on her right hand. Contact seems to be enough, Caitlin deflating, a more real version of her taking its place. “We should probably talk about last night.”

Invisible hackles rise, but his hands tighten on hers and she doesn’t run away. That’s a plus, he thinks. “There’s nothing to talk about.” She sounds frosty, but that is only surface level. She couldn’t hide her emotions from him, not her nervousness, not her fear, not from him. “We were drunk, that’s all.”

He scoffs at her attempts to brush it off. “We weren’t that drunk.”

“It might ruin our friendship,” she says pleadingly, though he wasn’t sure what she was pleading for. “You’re the most important person in my life Cisco, I couldn’t imagine my life without you.”

“Alright then.” He nods to himself, an idea forming in his mind. “Well then, what about this - what happens in London, stays in London.” She is going to object and Iris will probably hate him for smudging her lipstick, but he presses a finger against her ruby lips, eyebrows arching at his action. She stays silent. “I know how important our friendship is to you, hell you’re the most important person in my life. I think about all the memories I cherish most - you’re in every single one of them Caitlin.” Her breath hitches and he doesn’t know if he’ll regret letting that piece of information slip. “All I know is that I can’t let last night be brushed off as a mistake. I just - I need you Caitlin, even if it is just in London. I promise as soon as we’re back at Central City -” he throws her a weak smirk, “- I’ll be your BFF again, no more sexy times.” She nods against his finger, and she’ll definitely need to reapply her lipstick.

“Okay,” she whispers.

“Okay.” And his smile is wider and brighter and he feels lighter. “I should probably add that you look beautiful Caitlin.”

She blushes at his words, eyes averted as she smiles to herself. It is a precious sight and he stores it in his memory. “You look handsome too.” She drags her eyes over him, winking as she catches his gaze. “This is definitely a good look on you.”

“Cait-lin,” and oh, his voice was husky. Her eyes gleam as she catches it.

“What?” And her look of innocence has deviousness written across it. “If all we have is London, I should take full advantage of that, don’t you think?”

He takes a step toward her, a smile on his lips as he hears her words. “Oh really?”

Caitlin nods. “I was thinking after the reception.” He is right before her now, eye-to-eye because of her heels.

“I like the sound of that.”

The wedding goes off without a hitch. The ceremony is small and intimate, beautiful enough for Caitlin to have shed a tear before Iris even makes her way down the aisle, holding onto Joe. And she isn’t sure what is more beautiful, Iris’ face when she sees Eddie standing there, or Eddie’s, his jaw dropping at the sight of Iris, eyes shining in adoration and love, the man barely able to breathe.

But then Iris is right next to him, smiling at him and then he can breathe again, knowing that this woman, this beautiful, incredible woman, was willing to promise him the rest of her life. But every so often Caitlin finds herself stealing a glance at Cisco, the man captivated by the ceremony.

Iris steals her attention back in her vows, teasingly saying Barry’s name and not Eddie’s. There is a collective sharp inhale from everyone else, but her eyes are sparkling and lips smirking and Eddie’s laugh echoes through the chapel. Because she continues on saying that Barry’s name felt wrong on her lips, that Eddie is the only one she could imagine confessing her love to, promising her life to. It was Eddie, only Eddie, only ever Eddie.

She has the man crying before she ever finishes, Cisco discreetly wiping his own eyes. And he steals a glance at Caitlin, heart thundering as he catches her unwavering gaze focussed only on him. They are both brought back into reality soon enough, watching on in happiness as their two friends slip the wedding ring on the other’s fingers, a wet laugh leaving Eddie as he fumbles, his tears making it harder to see clearly.

And everyone cheers as they exchange their first kiss as husband and wife.

Cisco and Caitlin promised it that it would end in London, that they wouldn’t continue anything, not with their friendship being so important. Because it was. It was the most important thing in their lives, and ruining that, continuing their little affair and potentially ruining the greatest thing that had happened to them, that wasn’t even a possibility.

(There was the potential it would lead to something greater and stronger and more intimate than they could ever have imagined. They are too scared to even imagine a reality where that may occur.)

And so they sneak in lingering touches and longing looks while the others remain oblivious, too wrapped up in the wedding to notice the pair. The reception is perfection, for Iris and Eddie, for everyone. It isn’t traditional by any means, but they had intended a larger gathering back in the States, after their honeymoon in Italy. And so they have a dinner, everyone who attended the wedding going. It was less formal than the pre-wedding dinner, a room rented out, cheap food, lots of alcohol and good music.

He manages to convince her to do one dance, laughing at her stilted movements. And he guides her, hands on her hips, his body pressed up against her back as he shows her how to move with the music, how to let it wash over her and control her. She teases him back, reminds him he is just as bad at dancing than she is, if not more. But she doesn’t let him leave her. Because he does lose himself in the music and she wants to lose herself in it as well, wants to lose herself in him, his touch, his presence.

They wear themselves out, fatigue catching up to them late at night. Iris and Eddie had already headed off to their rooms and Cisco was thinking that they should do the same. He drags her to Barry who was talking to Joe, a cup of alcohol in his hand. “Hey guys, I think we’ll head back to the apartment now. Or this one is going to fall asleep on the dance floor.” A drowsy Caitlin still has the strength to glare at Cisco, pulling her hand out of his to cross her arms.

“Excuse me, I am completely awake right now.” Even as the words come out she is yawning. Joe laughs at her, crinkles at the side of his eye as Cisco cocks an eyebrow up, a smirk on his face as she pouts to him. Cisco thinks that Barry have gotten another drink during the little dispute.

“Come on sleeping beauty,” he mutters, pulling her out of the room. “Let’s get you into your bed okay.”

She stumbles into him, laughing to herself. “I’d rather be in yours.” He jumps as she squeezes his butt, her expression sinful.

He manages to get her into the cab, the ride home quiet, the knowledge of just what they were planning on doing hanging over them. Before they had the excuse of alcohol, but now they were sober and cognisant of just what they were going to do. What they wanted to do.

They can barely touch, each of them awkward as they pay the driver and go up the hotel lift. “Caitlin,” he calls before she enters her room, Cisco’s hand resting on his door handle. She hums, turning her head. And she can see his eyes, dark and blown and she feels a little weak in the knees at the sight of him, barely restrained lust and desperation rolling off him. “I’ll leave my door open.”

Caitlin isn’t sure either of them will survive the night.

She sneaks into Cisco’s bedroom, closing the door behind her, a teasing smile on her lips as she leans against the wood, Cisco jumping in surprise. But that quickly turns into something else, a ravenous look on his face as he sees just what she’s wearing, a pale blue slip cutting off mid-thigh barely covered by the robe around her shoulders. “God Caitlin,” he whispers reverently and she can already feel the effects of his glance, of his words, a fluttering in her stomach. And is then she takes him in, the crisp white shirt unbuttoned and sleeves rolled to his elbows, bow tie loosened, hanging from his neck. And she loses whatever advantage she thought she would have by surprising him, heat in her gaze as she drags her eyes up and down his body. She loved Cisco in a suit, had always done so, had always appreciated the sight it gave her, but seeing him like this, it sent shock waves through her system. Catching his gaze was a mistake, pupils dilated, sucking her in until she was drowning in those chocolate pools. She thinks she says some things, thinks she swears. But she isn’t sure. All she knows is that something snaps inside Cisco, and that the distance between them was too much, any distance was too much.

He stalks to her, determined and sure, sweeping her up in his arms. She pushes herself off the door, leaning against his chest as he kisses her, Caitlin melting at his touch. And here, sober, she finds herself just as easily succumbing to the lust swirling inside her, tendrils extending their reach to every fibre of her being and she gets her wish, losing herself in his touch and taste.

They break apart, the kiss too short, too chaste for them to feel content with. And he offers her his hand, Caitlin slipping her own inside, guided as he tugs her away from the door and to the bed.

They stand at its foot, the atmosphere thick with the weight of their future actions. But it doesn’t deter them, Cisco’s touch tender as he reaches up, slipping the robe off her shoulders, the material dropping to the floor.

“I’m going to take my time tonight,” he growls and she nods, desperate to have his hands on her once more.

But they don’t get any further, an insistent knocking on his door. “Who is it?” And there may be a slight undercurrent of anger, but it was justified, Caitlin inches away, watching him with dark eyes, anticipation burning between them.

“It’s Barry. Can I come in?” And he feels horrible because his first instinct was to say no. But Caitlin. Bed. Nakedness. He wanted it.

A sigh of resignation leaves him, Caitlin already bending to pick up her robe, wrapping it tight around her. Thank you he mouths, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss against her mouth, lingering because he can, because this was potentially the last time he could. “I’m coming.”

If Barry is surprised at the sight of Caitlin sitting on Cisco’s bed he says nothing, Barry joining her on the mattress, falling backward against it. “I hate being single,” he moans and they know they won’t be alone that night. Sighing Cisco joins them, the three of them cramped up on the queen sized bed, Caitlin stuck in the middle. They stare at the ceiling, more painless than looking at each other. “Do you think we’ll ever find the person we’re meant to be with?”

Caitlin laughs. “I think my question is more of a ‘will they stay alive long enough or will they turn into abusive dirtbags?’” Cisco reaches for her instinctively, taking her hand in his, rubbing his thumb against the inside of her wrist. The touch seems to calm her, Caitlin exhaling loudly, squeezing his hand in gratitude.

Barry winces, mumbling an apology, Caitlin brushing it off easily.

“Gosh, we’re pathetic single people aren’t we? Destined to be alone...”

“We aren’t alone though,” Cisco pipes up, and she knows he is looking at her, can feel his eyes burn into her and it’s like an itch, this need to turn her head and meet his gaze, the more she ignores it, the more it is the only thing on her mind. “We have each other.”

Silence fills the room at his words, comfortable and not awkward. Barry twists onto his side, back to Caitlin as he wishes them all a goodnight. It is startling, the thought of him sleeping on Cisco’s bed, assuming they would all do so too.Caitlin turns her back to Cisco too, afraid of what would happen if she were to face him, to meet his gaze, their plans unspoken and hanging between them. And so she holds it inside, disappointment clawing at her heart, a sense of loss washing over her.

Barry drifts off first, Cisco whispering his name, sighing when he got no response. “This isn’t how I planned to spend the night,” he grumbles, and he shifts onto his side, moving his hand to her hip, curling it over her bone as he leans into her. “Barry Allen, fastest cockblocker in Central City.”

“Let’s just go to sleep Cisco, we leave tomorrow morning,” she mumbles, closing her eyes as she wills oblivion to come swiftly.

But he continues on as if he hadn’t heard her. “I had such good plans too. I was going to kiss you right here.” He rests his weight on his elbow, leaning down to press a kiss underneath her ear. “And another here,” he shifts lower, “and again here...” he quietens, choosing to instead press kisses down the exposed slope of her neck and across her shoulders.

“Stop it Cisco.” There is a warning in her tone and he concedes to it, elbow giving way as he lies beside her.

“I really did had it all planned.” He whispers it now, and she strains to hear his words. “I was going to slip one strap down, going to suck a hickey high on your neck and so whenever someone would see it they’d know you were sleeping with someone. And I was going kiss every inch of your skin, going to finger you until you couldn’t take it anymore, until every time you saw my hands you’d think of tonight and this bed and just how incredible it was. You were going to lose your voice tonight, and the neighbours were going to learn my name as I sucked your clit and as my tongue -”

She rolls awkwardly, a glare on her face. “Cisco, I swear you better shut your mouth before I kick you.” He looks at her confused, eyebrows pinching as he struggles to understand why she would react like that. “Don’t start something you won’t finish,” she huffs, turning her back to him again as realisation dawns on him.

“Are you turned on Cait?” He sounds incredulous, disbelieving.

“I will kick you,” she threatens and he laughs, a tender kiss against the base of neck.

He is serious however, in the next moment, voice soft as he whispers his apologies. “I’m sorry we couldn’t have our final night together.”

There is a tremour in her voice, a thickness that made his heart lurch. “Maybe it just wasn’t supposed to happen Cisco.”

And he can’t explain to her just how strongly he thought she was wrong. But the words won’t come to his tongue, and so he sighs, resting his forehead on the top of her spine, and he falls asleep.

Barry wakes up, nudging Caitlin first and then Cisco awake. He is brighter than he was last night, not affected by a hangover whatsoever. She wants to linger in the room with Cisco, wants to say goodbye to whatever had happened, what could have happened, what never happened. He wants it too, wants to reach out and hold her back.

But Barry slips his arm in hers, rambling on a mile a minute as he walks to the the doorway. And he continues to chat to her, pausing at her doorway, leaning on the wall beside it, smiling as he catches up with her, Caitlin reminding him off their checkout and flight time.

They pack up sombrely, a sharp contrast to Barry who was bouncing around his room, having already packed his items in a flash. They all meet in the hotel lobby, Iris and Eddie having gone on ahead, starting their honeymoon bright and early. Joe wasn’t happy, complaining their flight back was so early and, given how little Wally and Jesse could look at each other without blushing, Cisco figured Harry would be having a fun time when they arrived back in the States.

The flight is tense, Barry in the middle of them and oblivious to the tension, head bopping to whatever music was playing through their headphones. They can’t look at each other, can’t even look in their direction, hearts beating hard in their chest.

It will be a long flight, and they know it.

“Well, here we are.” Their Uber pulls up at Caitlin’s apartment and she doesn’t want to be here, not yet, not when it meant that the bubble they were in would have to burst. Barry had taken a different cab, residing in a different area of the city, leaving those two without any excuse for separating. And they found, the moment they both got in the cab, they were thankful for these last few moments together.

“Yeah,” she says sadly, her smile falling. “I guess we are.”

And he sense her mood shift, Cisco taking her hand in his. “Hey,” he murmurs. “We’ll be okay.” The nod is jerky, Caitlin biting her lips and back her tears. And she isn’t sure why her eyes are stinging. She would be seeing him in a few days, STAR Labs still waiting for them to return. But she felt as though she were saying goodbye.

“Thank you Cisco.” It’s a breathy whisper and his hands tighten around her in response. “For everything.”

“You don’t have to Caitlin.”

“No,” she interrupts, eyes flashing in determination. “You’re always there for me, and I don’t say it enough.” Words of appreciation get caught in his throat, Cisco letting go of her hands to lean forward, the seatbelt digging into his chest as he pulls her into a hug. He breathes in deeply, her scent filling his nostrils, warm and familiar and he doesn’t want to let go.

“Alright you two,” the driver snaps and they pull away from each other, as if burnt. They had forgotten about him, about where they were. “I got other people to pick up.”

Her cheeks are red from embarrassment, Caitlin opening her door, stumbling out of the door and going to the boot where she picks up her luggage. He peers out of the window, waving at her as the car pulls away, tilting his head until she became a spec in the distance.

And all he wanted to do was go back to her.

It is supposed to be normal, everything is supposed to be normal. They were in Central City again, back in the regular grind of life, co workers and best friends and not lovers. But it wasn’t normal, nothing was normal anymore. Not when he still itches to hold her, to touch her, to kiss her.

It isn’t like he had never had these feelings for her, but they were repressed for so long, Cisco content with friendship. But now, now he knew what it was like to feel her against him, knew the sounds she made when she was close to an orgasm, when she was needy, when she pleads for more. And he knew he would struggle, knew that these feelings were unleashed and that they would only grow.

He doesn’t unpack when he gets home, simply ditches his bags by the door and curls up on his bed, sleep overcoming him, a jetlagged Cisco exhausted.

It isn’t the best idea, not when ten at night rolls around and he is wide awake, unpacking and pacing and cursing his decision to sleep earlier. There is energy burning inside him and no outlet. But it is preferable to sleep, flashes of memories and fantasies blending into each other, arching bodies and soft skin aroused noises and Caitlin. He dreams of Caitlin. And he wants.

He jumps when he hears the vibrations of his phone against his bedside table, Cisco’s heart stopping as he sees her name on the screen. Shaky hands pick up the device, answering the call he had never expected.

The sound of deep breathing fills his ear and how can she be breathing when he can’t seem to take an inhale. The hesitation is obvious and he hopes, he just hopes that she desires what he does. That London wasn’t an end but instead a beginning. “Cisco.”

“Yeah.” His voice cracks but he doesn’t care.

There is a huff and he knows she has made a decision, whichever way it would go. “I can’t sleep Cisco.” There is a quiver in her voice and he can feel his skin heating up. “What if I’m still on London time?”

He knows what she is saying, doesn’t need to hear the words.

And one second he is in his room, the next he is in hers, Caitlin laying in her bed, hair mused from sleep but eyes wide awake, dark and unblinking as she takes him in. There is an itch underneath his skin, a need to touch her, to hold her and she watches him unblinking as he stalks toward her bed, Cisco crawling over bed, stopping when their bodies were only a hairbreadth apart. And then his hand is cupping the back of her head, tugging her close as his mouth devours hers, pent up emotion that had been building since they boarded the aeroplane, a day ago.

She melts against his mouth, hand cupping his face, holding him close. And it is Caitlin who deepens the kiss, tilting her head, nose pressing against his cheek as she opens her mouth to him, licking at his seams until he complies.

“I need you Cisco.” It is murmured softly, Caitlin looking at him through her lashes. She guides his hand from her hair, dragging it slowly down her body, his gaze following its movements. And she can feel it burn against, the trail marking her skin, tingles left in its wake. His finger gets caught on the top of nightgown, tugging it down, the reveal of more skin leaving his mind heady with the idea of what would happen, his skin buzzing at the feel of her. But she pulls his hand lower and the material slips from his hold. The touch sets fire through her, his palm pressing against her stomach and lower, Caitlin guiding him to where she needed him.

He can feel her wet and it was because of him. It was for him. “Cisco,” she repeats and his name sounds like a prayer, Caitlin gasping it, eyelids fluttering closed as his fingers trace the seams of her lips through her underwear. “I need you.”

There wasn’t any doubt - they weren’t going back to being merely friends, they couldn’t. Not after this, not anymore.

He wakes to Caitlin watching him, trepidation and determination warring on her expression. And he wants to wipe the lines on her forehead away, wants to kiss her until she was smiling against his mouth.

He wants it so much and he isn’t surprised by it, isn’t afraid of its intensity. Why would he? She had been his best friend for years, and he had always hurt when she hurt, always wanted to make her smile and feel better. But it hadn’t been like this. Their relationship had shifted on its axis and he finds himself wanting more, wanting to do more for her. The idea of her finding another man to share this intimacy with, to find comfort in someone else’s arms - it was so thorough repugnant to him and he finds himself wishing that she would just choose him. He had already chosen her.

“Any chance I can just sleep in for a few more hours.“ The lightness of his words are belied by the tightness in his chest.

“Well it’s a Sunday,” she replies, dropping her head onto his chest, the softness of her cheek pressing against his pectoral muscles, her hand resting low on his stomach. The fine hairs of his happy trail tickle the inside of her palm.

He hums in reply and she feels it all the way down to her toes. “So you’re not kicking me out of this bed. Because it’s very comfy and I might not ever leave.”

He means it teasingly, but he loses the amusement mid sentence and her heart stops at the thought of her coming home to him every night, having his arms around her tight, falling asleep to the sound of his heartbeat. He had always made her feel safe, feel cared for, feel loved. “I wouldn’t mind.”

He freezes at her words. His heart stops being and he wonders if this is still a dream. “What’s happening between us Caitlin?” It is a hoarse whisper and it feels serious, the atmosphere shifting around them, enveloping them in a bubble, the world around them fading away. “Is it just sex?”

“No.” It was torn from her lungs, an earnestness which puts his mind at ease. “It could never be just sex.” Her voice is quiet, soft. “Not with you.”

“Then what is this between us?”

“I don’t know,” she whispers. He sees her moving beside him, feels her chin digging into his chest as she rests it on him, drumming her fingers against his side. “But I want to know where it goes.” It’s a terrible angle to hear such incredible words. He wants to say something eloquent, but he must take to long because a shadow crosses her face. “Unless you don’t...”

“I do,” he rushes out in an exhale. He pushes himself to a sitting position, collecting her in his arms. “God Caitlin, of course I do.” She relaxes in his hold, a smile on her face which lights up the room. And how can he help himself, Cisco leaning in, Caitlin meeting him midway for a kiss. It is different, a tender meeting of two heart, chaste and pure and he cannot hide his joy when she pulls away. “Should we tell the others?” There is a hopeful tinge to his voice, and although she shakes her head, it doesn’t diminish the happiness swelling inside him.

“What if something happens between us, we can’t drag them into this.” She is worried, he can hear it in her voice, but she ploughs through it, committed to it, to them.

“This might change things between us. Are you ready for that?”

“It doesn’t really have to change anything.” There is a demure smile on her face, her voice dropping several keys. “We’d just touch more.” Her fingers dance across his skin, sliding up the slope of his neck, tangling with his locks. “And we’d kiss more,” she whispers, pressing her lips on the underside of his jaw, grinning as his fingers flex against her hips. She trails her lips up to his ear, a soft kiss on the back of his ear. “And spend more time naked together.” She tugs at his earlobe with her teeth, Cisco stuttering her name. “Much more time naked.”

He turns his head, catching her lips in a kiss, stealing her breath away. “I like the sound of that.” He mumbles it against her mouth, smiling as she giggles into the kiss. It is slow and languid, her arms winding themselves his neck, holding him close.

She pulls back from him, nudging his nose with the tip of hers. “You’re still my best friend Cisco,” she says seriously. “No matter what happens between us you’ll always be my best friend.”

The smile he gives her is soft and tender and she feels the tension roll off her. “Ditto Caitlin.”

He seals it with a kiss.

There is a certain thrill, they discover, in hiding the relationship from everybody else. An excitement that courses through their veins every time the kiss at work, knowing anyone could come in and stumble upon them, a giddiness when they would touch each other in increasingly risque ways, a game between them for who would cause the other to crack without alerting anyone.

They get a few glances, confusion as Barry and Harry and Iris catch them in compromising positions. But it gets brushed off, and dismissed as something they would normally do, Caitlin and Cisco always incredibly close and loving toward each other.

The actual dating... they don’t even need to hide that. Going out for dinner, spending entire evenings together on a couch and Netflix, it was so common before London that no one suspects their actions. Caitlin was right - much of their lives didn’t really change.

But she was wrong, because so much of their lives did.

Barry is the first one to realise there was something going on between them, months after they had returned from London.

It is due to a eyelash curler of all things.

The guys were having an evening separate from the girls, Barry and Cisco taking Eddie out for drinks and bonding, Iris and Caitlin encouraging them to go out, the two discussing their own plans for the night. Barry met up with Cisco beforehand, the pair making their way to the bar, Eddie planning to meet them there after his shift concludes.

And so Barry arrives at Cisco’s apartment at lightning speed, waiting as Cisco finishes getting ready for the evening. Bored he decides to quickly check his reflection, hoping that his running hadn’t ruined his hairstyle.

Barry finds the curler lying in Cisco’s bathroom. He had taken his wallet out of his pocket, double checking he had enough cash on him, his keys falling out with it. Bending down to pick it up he discovers the curler on the floor and picks it up, eyebrows raised. He keeps it in his pocket, wandering back to Cisco’s lounge, sitting casually as he racks his brain trying to figure out who it belonged to.

He decides to just confront Cisco directly, Barry pulling it out when Cisco enters his living room finally ready for their night out. “So, what’s this then?” He smirks at the look of panic on Cisco’s face, Barry snorting in laughter as Cisco’s mouth opens and closes numerous times.

“Umm...”

“You’re sleeping with someone?” How he manages to get it out through his laughter is a miracle.

Cisco snaps his fingers, pointing to Barry with a smile on his face. “Exactly. I met someone in a bar and then slept with them.”

“Really?” His tone would be considered sceptical if Barry hadn’t come up with the suggestion himself.

Cisco nods vigorously. “And and and you’ve never met them because it was a one time thing. Never even got a name.” There is an audible sigh of relief from Cisco, Barry crossing his arms, ready to discuss this further. But he is distracted by the time - they would be late if they don’t leave now and Cisco is dragging him out of the room before he could object.

The next day has the trio in the labs, working on a way to defeat their latest meta.

“Hey Cisco,” Caitlin calls out around lunchtime, digging through her bag. “Did I leave my eyelash curler at your apartment last weekend during our Walking Dead marathon? Because I can’t find it anywhere.”

Barry’s brows furrow, gaze flicking between Cisco’s alarmed expression and Caitlin’s confused one. “That was yours?” He settles on Cisco. “Why did you say it was from someone you’d slept with when it was just Caitlin’s?”

An ungodly noise leaves her mouth at his question, hands quickly covering her mouth, eyes wide in shock. “He what?” It is a strangled sound from her throat, Caitlin starting to cough, punching her chest until the cough clears.

“He said that the curler belonged to -” It strikes him, the man staggering back hand reaching back to lean on the desk behind him. “Nooooo.” It is a mixture of disbelief and surprise and Cisco has his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hands before straightening up. “Really? You two?”

“Yes, okay. Yes.” His hands are open, trying to placate Barry, Cisco moving toward him slowly. “Caitlin and I have been...” He drifts off, trying to think of the correct word. His sways his head left to right, a grateful smile directed to Caitlin pipes up.

“We’re together Barry. But you can’t tell anyone.”

He had calmed down since the revelation, but the knowledge that he couldn’t share the information with anyone has him whining. “Why?”

It is Cisco who answers. “We’re still getting use to it Barry. This is years of friendship we’re talking about. So we’re just taking it very slowly.”

“Not that slowly,” Caitlin teases, a sly smirk on her face as she winks toward Cisco, her head thrown back in laughter at the look of utter surprise on his face, the man taken aback by her action. But then he breaks into a smile and its blinding, the fondness he held for her, the love he had been hiding from everyone.

And Barry can’t believe he hadn’t seen it before, hadn’t suspected it in the slightest. Because watching them together, the change was subtle but it was dramatic, and he didn’t think he would be able to unsee them as anything but a couple. It was different to how they used to look at each other, but really wasn’t that much different....

“You guys.” And he sounds as if he will cry at the sight of them, his arms stretching wide. There is no reluctance, though Cisco does roll his eyes as they go to him, a group hug filling them with warmth, the knowledge that one of their closest friends knew and supported them a relief. “I’m so happy for you.” And yeah, he definitely sounds choked up. “So, when did this happen?”

“London.”

“London?!”

They aren’t aware that Iris sees them a few months after Barry finds out, Cisco and Caitlin too caught up in each other. He is working, or he appears to be, but it is lunch time and there was a lull in crime and Caitlin was standing behind him, leaning down. Iris stifles a gasp as she sees the other woman press a kiss against his cheek, Cisco turning his head, capturing her lips in a soft kiss.

They pull apart relatively quickly, Caitlin pressing a gentle kiss against the side of Cisco’s temple before straightening up, walking out of the room.

They don’t know Iris is there, don’t even know she was coming to the lab today. And she stays there, watching the space, the memory replaying in her mind over and over until it drove her crazy.

And she couldn’t keep this knowledge to herself.

“They’re dating!” It’s an explosion of hurt and excitement, Iris bouncing in her spot. She had dragged Barry to her house, Eddie sitting on their couch alongside Barry as she paces before them.

“Who?” It is confusion. Eddie.

“Caitlin and Cisco. They’re dating...” Her jaw drops. One look of surprise, one look of guilt. “Bartholemew Allen you better tell me what I want to know.”

He caves.

He tells them everything.

“I can’t believe they’d hide this from us.” Iris stops, smirks, mischief dancing in her eyes. “Well, we can change that.” She looks between the two men with her. “And you’re both going to help me.”

Hiding their relationship wasn’t the best idea in the world, not when Eddie and Iris seem intent on setting their two friends on dates. And they can’t really resist their efforts without seeming strange, Cisco had been bemoaning the lack of romance in his life, Caitlin promising Iris that she would try and move on from the scars Jay left on her. And she finally seemed as though she were, a few scattered dates before the fateful trip to London.

But Julian didn’t light up anything inside her, and Lisa, Cisco was sure, is someone he has seen on the wanted board in the police station.

(Iris concedes that maybe finding a stranger in a bar wasn’t the best idea for organising Cisco’s blind date.)

They try other people, but the couple don’t appear to show any annoyance at the constant barrage of dates they were set up on, smiling the next day as they exchanged anecdotes of the previous night with each other. The looks of adoration aren’t hard to miss between them and Iris feels like screaming, the poor charade of just-friends crumbling the moment they are in the same room together.

“So this isn’t working,” Iris huffs, crossing her arms as Eddie sits across from her on the table, taking her hand.

“What are you thinking babe?”

“We need the big guns.” Her eyes spark and both Barry and Eddie know not to try and stop her.

Cynthia comes over to STAR Labs the next day, some half formed excuse stuttered out of Barry’s lips before he zooms off to practice.

Cisco is free to assist her with the problem plaguing her bounty agency, the man ready to work and talk tech with whoever was willing to listen. And Cynthia was. She hovers over Cisco’s shoulders, listening to his words and explanations, nodding, asking for clarification on points she doesn’t understand. It’s different, a more calm Cynthia. A Cynthia that spoke only to him.

Caitlin was working on another issue, her expertise not relevant to the problem. And so she is largely ignored, and largely ignores them. Which means she is unaware of the gentle touches Cynthia does on his shoulder. Which means she is unaware at the closeness between Cynthia and Cisco.

But Cisco isn’t oblivious. Confused and unsure how to mention it to Cynthia, but not oblivious.

With the end of the day comes the end of the problem, Cynthia beaming at the improved technology Cisco was passing over to her, eyes bright when she sees the strength of the gun, sees just how the gloves harness and amplify her strength.

Cynthia presses a kiss against his cheek, in what he assumes is thanks. But then she checks him out, blatantly checks him out, winking as she catches his surprised look before she enters the lift, heading up to the top, and he doesn’t know what to think anymore. “See you around Ramon,” she had said before she left.

And he isn’t sure what to expect when she does.

He takes a seat at his desk not half an hour after Cynthia had left, huffing to himself, abandoning any pretence of doing work. Because her actions were on his mind and he needed to talk with someone. His best friend. “Caitlin... I think there’s a meta affecting people’s minds.” The snort of laughter leaving her lips doesn’t fill him with confidence.

She turns her head to him smiling, but he doesn’t seem amused, seems troubled, and so she drops her work turning to him. “And why do you think that?”

“Cynthia.” The blank look on Caitlin’s face wasn’t something he wanted to see, Cisco realising that now he’d have to explain everything to her. “She was flirting with me.” He rushes the words out, as if speed would detract from its meaning.

Caitlin rolls her eyes, rolling herself to Cisco’s desk. His brows furrow as she places the back of her hand on his forehead, head cocked to the side. “You don’t seem to have a high temperature.”

“Rude.” He pushes her hand away from him. Missing the contact instantly. “I’m serious.”

“Cisco,” Caitlin starts slowly. “Cynthia has always flirted with you.”

That revelation takes him by surprise. “What?”

“Yeah, haven’t you wondered why she's always so awkward around me?” He shrugs, Caitlin rolling her eyes, ruffling his hair affectionately. He yelps, brushing her hand away from his hair. “You’re the cutest thing.”

He pouts, crossing his arms over his chest. “Okay then Miss Smarty-pants, why is she being so blatant then?”

The question hangs over them, the look of mirth on Caitlin’s face dropping. “They know.”

He doesn’t need an explanation for what she was referring to. “They couldn’t possibly.”

Caitlin gives him an unimpressed look. “Barry knows.”

He tilts his head, pondering her argument. “.... They know.” But it still doesn’t explain everything. “And they sent Cynthia to do what exactly?”

Caitlin smiles, devious and chilling and he loves it. “I don’t know, but I do know how to find out.”

(He loves her).

It becomes a point of pride, the couple wanting to admonish their friends for trying to force them out of secrecy. And Cisco just wants to mess with them.

Barry is terrible with secrets, and a small amount of pressure exerted by Caitlin has him folding, telling them the plan. That apparently Cynthia was to flirt with him, the resulting awkwardness a source of amusement and would hopefully have them confessing the relationship.

And so he tries to flirt back.

She leans back in surprise when he moves closer, flirting just as obviously, and he can hear Iris gasp, her gaze flickering to Caitlin’s neutral expression, Caitlin not reacting to the sight in front of her. She appears disinterested. It takes them by surprise.

Cynthia recovers quickly, smiling as she slides her hand up his torso, Cisco’s stomach clenching at the touch. “Are you saying you’re interested in me Cisco?” There is a coy smile on her lips and he gulps, adam’s apple bobbing as he commits to the plan.

“I’ve never denied it Cynthia. I knew there was a reason that the universe tried to show us we were -” he blanks, searching for the right word. “On similar wavelengths, compatible.”

Her eyes brighten and oh, he thinks, this was a terrible idea. She was much better at this than him. “I agree. We should really explore what it is between us Cisco.” Her finger runs down his torso, Cynthia close, too close. But he can’t flinch, can’t show any sign of discomfort. Can’t let them win.

“Maybe over dinner?”

His words take her by surprise, eyes widening. They had clearly never planned for it to go this far. “That sounds perfect.” And the waver in her voice was audible, Cynthia clearing her throat to disguise it.

“So it’s a date?” He tries to sound excited for it, but the smile on his lips too wide, too bright.

“Yeah.” She nods, pulling away from him. And he can breathe normally again. “Where do you want to go?” He was successful, this charade was working.

And he’s a little too confident, the words slipping out without second thought. “My apartment, Friday night, 8 o’clock. I’ll cook you some of mama Ramon’s famous recipes.”

And as soon as they are out he wants to take them back, wants to pluck them from the air and eat his words back up. What he would do to run through time and stop his past self. But he can’t. They are in the open and Cynthia is nodding, a smile on her face, a few words before turning on her heels and leaving the room.

“I look forward to it.”

Caitlin is in his apartment before the date takes place, sitting down by his kitchen table, a smile on her face as she watches him run around, preparing dinner for another woman. “You can help any time you know?”

She laughs at his words and he feels himself relax at the sound, shoulders falling and a calm washing over him. “Are you really sure you want me helping with the cooking?”

There is a moment to ponder her words before he nods. “Yeah you’re right, we’d die of food poisoning, and it wouldn’t even be intentional.”

She pouts at him, sticking her tongue out as he laughs. “I’m not that bad,” she grumbles and he switches the stove off, Cisco moving to her, kneeling in front of her.

“No,” he whispers, and the air isn’t light anymore, a tension settling in the room. “You’re the best.”

The smile is small, but it means everything to him, Cisco pulling himself to his feet, moving to get ready, Caitlin rising with him almost instinctively. And up close he can see her emotions more clearly. He can see the worry in her face, Caitlin gnawing at her bottom lip. “Hey,” his hand finds the bottom of her chin, tilting it up until she meets his gaze. And she can’t hide anything from him. Never really could. “You okay?”

She nods, and he can feel her swallow thickly. He wants to say the words, the three words that were weighing on his heart. Instead he leans forward, Caitlin melting into him as she kisses him, tension rolling off her in waves.

They break apart slowly, Caitlin reaching up to his mouth, wiping his lips clean with her thumb, maintaining eye contact with him the entire time. He catches her arm as she moves to pull her hand away, dry lips pressing a lingering kiss against the inside of her wrist.

“You need a clean shirt,” she says eventually, voice scratchy. And she runs, leaving him alone in his lounge room. He is alone with a clawing feeling inside him, stomach flipping as the minutes stretch. She comes back with a clean button up shirt flung over her shoulder. And she can’t meet his gaze, her hands grabbing the bottom of his shirt, lifting it up slowly.

There is a tension in the atmosphere he never expected, Caitlin clinging to his shirt, unable to meet his gaze. He picks the other off her shoulder, sliding his hands through it. And she buttons up his shirt slowly, staring from the bottom and working her way up. “You don’t to go this far if you don’t feel comfortable.”

“I won’t if you don’t want me too.” It is a whisper. It feels wrong to do anything but that.

She meets his gaze then and the emotions swirling inside it takes his breath away. “I just -” She cuts herself off. She doesn’t need to say anything more.

“You know you’re the only woman I...” He hesitates, unsure if he should say those words, unsure if she was ready to hear them. “You’re the only one I truly care for,” he finishes and he prays she can read between the lines, can understand what he means.

She nods, a watery smile on her lips and she doesn’t, not really. “Yeah, of course.”

He kisses her then. He kisses her because he adores her and loves her and he can’t imagine being with anyone else. He kisses her because he can’t stand the look on her face, can’t stand being away from her. And something unlocks inside him, her hands winding themselves around his neck, a muffled moan against his lips.

The whimper that leaves her mouth when they break apart has him leaning back into her, holding her tight against him.

“I’ll sneak out now,” she says, glancing at the time. She stops at the door, turning on her heel, a shy smile on her face as she adds. “You look nice.” Her words send his heart into overdrive and the words are going to slip out accidentally. It is too big and important and she is such a big and important part of his life.

But then there is a knock on her door.

Cynthia was here,

but so was Caitlin.

There is a flurry of movement, a panicked Caitlin running into his bedroom. “I’ll be okay here, won’t I?” she hisses.

He rolls his eyes at her question. “I don’t know what you think I’m going to do tonight, but none of it involves her in my bedroom okay?” She nods rapidly, shutting the door to him. And she leans on the wood behind her, sinking slowly to the floor, clutching her hand to her chest, over her heart. It is beating hard and there is an uneasiness she doesn’t understand.

It is Cisco, and he would never hurt her, never do anything against her. And Cynthia was just playing with both of them. But still...

Caitlin closes her eyes, rests her head against the door and breathes deeply. And she listens.

Cisco is much more panicked than her now he was left alone. He opens the door to Cynthia, a smile on his face as he takes her hand in his, a kiss against the back of her palm partnered with a wink.

She rolls her eyes at his antics, but the smile tugging on her lips betrays her amusement. “You look good,” she says and it’s strange, feeling her eyes rake over him. With Caitlin he felt hot, but Cynthia was his friend.

He does the same with her, a noise of appreciation leaving him as he takes in the dress she was wearing partnered with the leather jacket. “And you look beautiful.” It is true, she really does, the deep blue of the dress and loose hair is a very nice look on her. But she wasn’t who he wanted.

He snaps out of his thoughts. “Oh! Food.” He abandons her by the door, rushing to the kitchen. “I’ll just put this on low,” he calls out, Cynthia following him slowly. “I wasn’t sure how long it’d be so I prepared it early.” She runs her hand up his back and he stiffens immediately. “Just wait a moment, the food is almost ready.” His voice is difficult to keep steady, but he succeeds.

“I’m hungry,” she pulls him away from the stove, pushes him against his kitchen bench, the granite digging into his back. “Just not for food.”

“Oh really?”

“Surely you’ve felt it,” her voice is low and she is good, he thinks to himself. And committed. “This spark between us.”

She stares at his lips and licks her own. “Of course.” He puts his hand on her hips. It is more to hold her back than to show affection. He hopes that she doesn’t notice.

“Then why are we fighting it.” Cynthia drifts off, voice soft and leans in close, lips so close to his own.

And he can’t.

“Okay, alright!” The squeezing of his eyelids does nothing to alleviate the pressure he felt against his heart. “You guys win. I can’t kiss you.” He cracks one eye open, a smug look of satisfaction on her face. She pulls away from him, and he can breath easy with the distance between them.

“And why is that?” She crosses her arms over her chest, tapping her foot impatiently, the constant and consistent noise pushing him over the edge.

“Because I love Caitlin.” The words rush out of his mouth, sufficient and clearly, nothing like the jumbled feelings bouncing around inside him. He is barely aware of the door opening behind Cynthia, more focussed on her shifting smile, now soft and genuine, and it gives him the strength to continue, knowing at least two of his friends was supportive of the relationship. “I love her and I’m in love with her.” His gaze flickers behind Cynthia, Iris having burst into the room, Eddie and Barry behind her. And she is bouncing on the spot, her hand covering her mouth doing nothing to hide the look of glee on her face, eyes misty as she hears his confession. And Eddie is beside her, both his hands on her shoulder. And god, Cisco thinks to himself, what he would do to be able to hold Caitlin like that in public.

Caitlin.

He turns to the bedroom door, the petite frame coming out of the room slowly and hesitantly and his heart is in his throat. She doesn’t acknowledge anyone else in the room, the world him and only him. It’s almost in slow motion, watching Caitlin approach him, stopping only a few steps away from him.

“Look,” he starts, gaze on the floor. “I know you’re not ready for that, and that Jay hurt you real bad.” He hears her sniff, can see through his periphery Caitlin lift up her hand to her face, but he doesn’t have will to meet her gaze, afraid of what he might see in it. “I don’t expect you to say it back, but it’s true and I don’t think I can lie anymore. I’m in love with you Caitlin Snow.” He chuckles to himself. “And I have been for a while.”

Cold fingers slide across his jawline, and he leans into her hand, gaze slowly lifting as she closes the gap between them, feet now centimetres. Her hand lifts his head up, eyes searching his own for the truth. And she finds it, is overwhelmed by it, by his love for her.

She’s crying he realises belatedly. She’s smiling and it’s beautiful like a supernova, big and stunning and deadly if you’re too close, and he is too close, but he doesn’t mind being burned by such a beautiful thing. “I love you too Cisco.” Her chin trembles and he thinks that maybe he should kiss her. He most definitely should kiss her.

He does.

And his friends fade into background, all his attention, all his energy spent on kissing the woman in his arms, his best friend, his princess. His soulmate.

#killervibefanficweek #killervibe #caitlin snow #cisco ramon #the flash #the mondler au no one really asked for #i wanted barry to be ross but also rachel but also joey #and then none of them ended up sticking to their characters so whatever #ruthie writes #the flash fic #killervibe fic #killer vibe

6 notes · View notes

texastheband · 5 years ago

Text

The Best Little Sex Bomb In Texas

Interview by Miranda Sawyer, Photography by Wayne Maser Taken from British GQ - January 2004

There are many reasons to like Sharleen Spiteri. She's broken her nose four times. She once painted a mural of Che Guevara that covered her dad's garage wall. She understands that sexiness is more than "tits and arse. Well, straightforward tits and arse, anyway". She owns the original Blondie Parallel Lines mini-dress, given to her personally by Debbie Harry. She has a voice that can sound as heartworn as Dusty Springfield, as bed-borne as Chrissie Hynde. Her favourite term of abuse is "complete fanny". And, unlike most women, she looks fab in mens clothing. Actually, she's the type of insouciant beauty that would look good in a black sack; which is lucky, as that's what she appears to be wearing. We're in J Sheekey's restaurant in Covent Garden. Sharleen's just come from Top Of The Pops, where she and her band, Texas, performed their recent single, "Carnival Girl", with Ragga MC, Kardinal Offishall. She's still wearing her telly outfit: a black all-in-one, though she's swapped her take-your-eye-out stilettos for take-your-knee-out bower boots. Her hair is blunt-cut and tickles her eyelashes. She is small, dark-eyed, full-mouthed, French-looking; sultry, like her photos, but not sulky. In fact, Sharleen doesn’t stop chatting, in her throaty Glaswegian tones, about any topic you care to bring up: films, food, fashion, stripping... There's been a suggestion that she and I, as thirtysomething bonnes viveuses, would like to spend the evening in a strip club. But the only one that Sharleen will even consider checking out is a hardcore gay men's kit-off night in a notorious East End pub.

"You'll not drag me to any of that Spearmint-Rhino-Peter-Stringfellow naff old rubbish," she roars. "We'll go to Amateur Night at the White Swan. There's £1.ooo for the best act!" She announces this to me, but also to the J Sheekey waiting staff too, who clearly know and like her. "You'd better tell me all about it," says one to her, conspiratorially. "I want size, technique, all the details..." Sharleen is good at making friends: whether stars (Madonna, Stella, Gwyneth), or us lesser mortals. She's fearless, unsnobbish company, with a lewd anecdote or two up her sack-sleeve, and, unlike many famous people, she knows how to listen. She'd have made a great hairdresser. "I was a great hairdresser!" she laughs. "My tips were wicked! And people told me everything - I got loads of scandal, stuff about wife-swapping circles. But what I was really known for was when people brought in pictures of celebrities and said, 'That's the way I want my hair'. I'd put my hand over the celebrity's face and say, 'Is that really what you want? Cos we don't do faces in here, we just do hair."' She tells it like it is, does Shar. Ask her whether Texas is a democracy, and she says: "No way. Texas is me and Johnny (McElhone). The band formed around that, we write the songs together and the rest of the band either gets that or gets out. And they're totally fine with me getting all the attention. They're happy getting the money and none of the grief." The tuneful pop-rock band that is Texas formed in Glasgow in 1986, when 18-year-old Sharleen, a hairdresser and art student, met Johnny McElhone. Johnny, then 23, had played bass in Altered Images (he joined when he was just 15: his parents had to sign his contract for him), and later, in Hipsway. On a whim he asked Sharleen if she wanted to sing for a new band he was putting together. The audition was arranged, "but I never turned up", says Shar. "I thought he was sleazing me." Luckily, Johnny, who wasn't, called again. This time Sharleen went along, sang Culture Club's "Do You Really Want To Hurt Me", and Texas were formed. The first song Johnny and Sharleen wrote together was "I Don't Want A Lover". In between spoonfulls of potted shrimp, Sharleen explains that she'd never thought of herself as a singer, because every Spiteri sang. Her father's family is Italian, her mother's French, and at reunions, every family member would have to perform a song, wether they wanted to or not. "But I never got attention, because my cousins did the crowd-pleasers", she sniffs. "Never a dry eye in the house when they sang." Sharleen didn't approve of such obvious tactics, and when Texas got a record contract, she was prickly with it, insisting on always being pictured with a member of the band or with her guitar, never being interviewed separately, dressing mannishly, not smiling. Her idols were Chrissie Hynde, Patti Smith, Siouxsie Sioux. It was the late Eighties. She was Scottish. She was serious. In 1989, "I Don't Want A Lover" went Top ten in the UK, and Texas' first LP Southside, sold 1.3m copies. But the two follow-ups, Mothers Heaven and Ricks Road, didn't do so well, and around 1995, the band went into crisis mode. "We were nothing in Britain," says Sharleen, "but, because we were successful everywhere else, the record company were tiptoe-ing round us. I knew I wasnae important: I felt like screaming, 'Stop wrapping me in cotton wool!' Also, in Glasgow, everyone knew us, we were big fish in a small pond. I'd rather be a small fish in a big pond. The whole atmosphere was making me claustrophobic. So I moved to Paris." Paris proved "un tonique" for our Texan trouper. Sharleen wrote "Say What You Want" on a Paris rooftop, drinking a large glass of red wine. She met fashion journalist Ashley Heath, her partner, at a party. (They bonded over an argument about music.) Being away from home, and being able cope with that, boosted her confidence. Though you wouldn't think it now, Sharleen was "very, very, quiet" at school: not quite the ugly mate, but the one that boys approached, not to ask out, but to ask if her friend would go out with them. "The whole time I just thought, `What the fuck am I doing here?"' She left at 15: she has no contact with any former classmates. Anyway, in 1996, the Shiny! Sexy! New! Texas appeared, with Sharleen very much to the fore. For the first time, she had the self-assurance to use her languidly erotic looks. In videos, she rolled around in sea shallows, and made fully-clothed love to some lucky model. In pictures, she pulled at her hair and bit her lip. She was incredible sexy, but not straightforwardly so; what she was, was cool. It irritates Sharleen when people think that this was somehow acquired illegally: that her chic was painted on late, without serving her dues, manipulated by the boyfriend or her record company. As she points out, she found her feet first in fashion and art, and her hairdressing skills took her on shoots around the world. Sharleen does have that fashion instinct: she loves seeking out new designers and musicians, collaborating with them before they get too well-known. "But everyone gets to know about them in no time at all now!" she laughs. "You know, there is no story behind how I got cool. Of course I'm trying to be cool. Everyone is. And I always was cool: at least I thought so. Even in 1989, when I was wearing a biker jacket and jeans, trying to be more androgynous than everybody else, referencing the Clash, I thought I was dead, dead trendy. I did it myself. I didnt even have a stylist until [the band's fifth album] The Hush."

And of course, she could have done Miss Wet T-shirt until she dissolved and it wouldn't have made any difference if Texas hadn't come up with the songs. But they did: White On Blonde was a Number One, four-million-selling smash, that produced four Top Ten singles ("Say What You Want", "Halo", "Black Eyed Boy" and "Put Your Arms Around Me") and earned Sharleen and Johnny an Ivor Novello Award for Outstanding Song Collection. The band's next two LPs, The Hush (1999), and The Greatest Hits (2000), also stormed the charts. Texas have now sold 20m records worldwide. Weirdly, though, it wasn't until 2001, when the band took another break, that Sharleen truly came to mainstream attention. Over the last few years, Sharleen Spiteri has moved from being the hip bird out of Texas to becoming Heat fodder. Blame that heady contemporary combination of famous friends, and getting pregnant. Still, the interest took her by surprise. "You expect to have your photo taken if you're at a fashion show, or coming out of a posh restaurant," she says. ": when you're struggling with your shopping, looking like a whale? Cheers. Being pregnant is really the best time to be papped, you know." She's squared up to paparazzi in the past, slamming her car into reverse and almost driving into a following photographer, then getting out and ranting at him through the window. "The whole time I was having a go, he and his mate wouldn't look at me, they just looked straight ahead. The before he drove off, he said, `See that car on the other side of the road? He's following you too."' Still, she managed to avoid an embarrassing picture when, at eight months pregnant, she locked herself out of her house near Regent' Park and had to hoik herself and her bags over the iron gates: "Now, that really would have been a horrendous sight." One shot that everyone did see was of Sharleen's friend, Arsenal's Thierry Henry. On 10 September 2002, the day after Sharleen's daughter, Misty Kid, was born, Arsenal played Manchester City; Henry scored the winner and ripped off his shirt to reveal a slogan that read, "For the new born Kid". "That could have cost TT 30 grand," grins Sharpen. Luckily they decided not to fine him." "TT" often pops over for a chat. Does Sharpen ever feel weird when famous people come round? Only once," she muses, "when Debbie Harry came over, and was sitting in my kitchen eating dinner, being so nice. She was such an idol of mine when I was young. But otherwise, it's only when it freaks someone else out. I don't divide my friends into celebrities and non-celebrities, don't think like that. So they mix up in my house, and it's only when a friend phones up the next day and goes, `That was some evening!' that I think about it."

Still, I think it's important to Sharleen to be accepted by credible famous people, because she's spent so long having her band dismissed by snotty critics. Despite her own hipster kudos, despite the band's collaborations with the Wu-Tang Clan, Rae and Christian, and now Kardinal Offishall, Texas' music has often been labelled "safe", or naff". Having TT and Debbie et al onside shows that she is cool and that, allied with her immense songwriting success, means she can cheerfully say, "Sod the lot of you". The girl is fashion-conscious, she wants respect: you can't blame her. Anyhow, celebrity fact alert! Coldplay's frontman Chris Martin now lives in Sharleen's old flat: "We call it the House of Hits," she grins. And there are more of those coming: Texas' latest album, Careful What You Wish For, is Peppered with potential hits that play to the band's proven strengths: catchy, dreamy tunes, evocative guitars and Sharleen's gorgeous voice. The new single, "I'll See It Through", has all this in spades, and sounds like Dusty Springfield singing Burt Bacharach. But there are plenty of other singles there: "Telephone X", a Blondie-style stomp; "And I Dream", which recalls the exuberance of Madonna's "Ray Of Light"; the title track, a hand-clapping singalong. After 16 years in the business, it's obvious that the girl knows what she's doing. Unfortunately, after three hours at Sheekey's, I'm not sure that I do. The wine has gone down very easily, the conversation hasn't stopped. We've discussed DIY - Sharleen's great at it, especially shelves; underwear - "I am very particular about my knickers"; scars - Sharleen has five: forehead, hand, left eye, both knees; the hyperactivity of parents - her retired merchant seaman father does the lights for Texas' live show; the madness of boyfriends - Heath initially told his mum and dad that Sharpen worked in Glasgow Airport, but forgot to tell her: "I couldn't work out why his mum kept asking me about Duty Free." Misty Kid gets a few mentions: she's a climber, like her mum; stubborn, like both her parents. We spend quite some time talking about song-writing. Sharleen starts a new notebook for each Texas album and fills it with ideas and lyrics. Sometimes she only needs one, sometimes three. Careful What You Wish For was a two-notebook LP. She has no formula for writing, and she'll always sacrifice a word for a melody.

But, well, bollocks to such serious talk! It's stripper-time! Off we go in search of a place where pecs are expected and the knackers hang free. The White Swan is legendary as being the place where Michael Barrymore came out; it's an old-school gay man's pub, rather than a metrosexual bar. Its Amateur Night has gained a bit of a reputation recently, as a night of laughter and never forgetting. We pull up outside and skip to the door. There's a sign that says "Men Only Tonight", but we are undeterred; after all, Sharleen is a "dykon'' in a boiler suit, and my shoes are certainly sensible. But a big, bald man stops us at entry. "No women," he says, shortly. Sharpen argues; her female friends have been in before. No luck. We try chatting up some arriving punters, to no avail. Sharleen doesn't resort to "do you know who I am?", but you'd think they would: she played the London Astoria's self-explanatory G-A-Y a week-and-a-half ago, and was recently featured in gay magazine Boyz. She tries again. The big, bald man says bigly, baldly: "Go away." Curses! Thwarted. "Goes to show that you can be as famous as you like and it's not a passport to everywhere," shrugs Sharpen. "Shall we go back to mine? I'll get my boyfriend to strip." We do; he, thankfully, doesn't. And, chat-chat-chatting in her big comfy kitchen, the plasma screen playing MTV with the sound down, Misty's toys strewn across the floor, you understand why Sharpen attracts cool people. It's hardly sensational but, the simple facts are: Sharpen Spiteri is talented, hilarious, and the sexiest night out you can have when everyone keeps their clothes on.

#article #carefulwhatyouwishfor #British GQ #GQ #Wayne Maser #WayneMaser #SharleenSpiteri #Sharleen Spiteri #Sharleen #Spiteri

0 notes

seriouslyhooked · 8 years ago

Text

Show Me (The CS Mixtape) Part 144/?

Series of CS oneshots inspired by music. Collection on FF Here.

A/N: Short future fic from Emma’s perspective on her wedding day to Killian. I know I have done many of these before, BUT, this song was a reader request, and it always make me think of wedding vows, so here we are. Besides, given the current climate of the show, I am searching for the fluffiest feels-filled fics and this seems like a good venue for some cuteness. Inspired by the song ‘Show Me’ by Idina Menzel.

We finally made it, Emma thought to herself as she gazed into the mirror in her bedroom and looked at the picture she made for in her wedding dress. Today’s finally here.

It was impossible for Emma to articulate her joy at that fact. This had been a long hard road to now, with ups and downs, highs and lows, but at the end of the day this was all she could ever want. In a few minutes time she’d be leaving this room and heading down the path of her chosen forever, coasting down an aisle that led to Killian, the man she loved and the one person in the world she wanted to build her future with.

There had been plenty of moments up to now when Emma doubted if they’d make it here. Things in their life together didn’t always go exactly to plan, and there had been more than a few wrenches thrown into their path and obstacles for them to tackle head on. A lot of that work to getting here had been internal for both of them. Emma had to let go of her past hurts, and Killian had to learn to do the same. They both needed time to grow and to heal and to change for the better, and yet the way they’d done that was through finding each other. Even in the worst of times, when hope was hard to find, and the odds seemed stacked against them, they always found their way back home to each other.

Thankfully today the Universe wasn’t intent on throwing any more trials in their way, and the world outside was perfectly situated to allow a real sense of peace. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and the breeze coming through the window of her bedroom right now was soft and sweet, cool but still mild, like something from a daydream. It was a sign to Emma that the battle to get to Killian was largely over. They’d face more trials for sure, but now they’d have each other and be tied together in every way, facing everything as a team in the way she truly wanted.

“Oh Emma. You look so beautiful.”

The watery words came from her mother, who must have stolen into the room while Emma was distracted by visions of the future. As Emma expected her mother’s eyes were filled with tears when she turned to face her. Snow was truly on the precipice of a full-blown cry, but Emma had to stop that. If she didn’t they’d both be shedding tears, and today was too happy a moment to do that. So instead of letting those feelings linger, Emma extended her hand to her mother and pulled her to look in the mirror with her. Here they stood side by side, enjoying a milestone so many mothers and daughters faced together, and it almost felt normal when so little in their lives ever did.

“I never thought I’d have this,” Emma whispered to her Mom and then she flicked her glance to her mother’s reflection and explained. “A wedding was never exactly on my radar, given the whole avoiding feelings and attachment thing…”

“Thank God you pushed through that, that Killian helped get you through that, and that you chose love in the end,” Snow said and Emma smiled in reply.

Her mother had been very clear in her immense happiness for Emma and her future son-in-law, and that acceptance from both her parents, despite some of the darkness in Killian’s past, had been so incredibly appreciated on Emma’s part. It made an already special day all the more wonderful, because she knew everyone who she loved was celebrating not just for her happiness, but that she’d found that happiness with her true love who they all loved as well.

“Yeah. But there were moments in my old life when I wondered what it might be like. I always wanted my parents to be there, even if I never knew you, and now you are. You and Dad have been with me through every part of this, and I…”

Oh shit, here were those tears again, but this time it was her mother’s turn to be strong. Snow turned Emma to face her and held Emma’s face in her hands, looking at her with misty eyes, but a sincerity that could not be denied. It was a sure sign that some much needed words of wisdom and heartfelt motherly affection were coming, and Emma could hardly wait.

“There is nothing in this world that compares to being your mother, Emma. I only wish I could have been there more, but what we have had has been the greatest honor of my life. Seeing you these past few years, watching how brave you are to have hope when life taught you that you couldn’t… that has been the best of adventures. And today we’re starting another one. You and Killian are going to have a wonderful life together, Emma. I can feel it.”

Emma’s chest flooded with warmth at the thought, because she knew her mother was right. Call it intuition or what have you, but Emma could sense that they’d turned the corner. Maybe the forces of evil might come knocking again, but the harrowing separations, and the back and forth of pain and doubt, those were over now. This was the start of a new chapter, a brighter one, and hopefully a long and happy one too.

“Speaking of my future husband... how is he?” Emma asked, knowing that the captain she loved never did very well in situations where they were apart. He’d had to sleep aboard the Jolly last night and had missed seeing her all of today, and Emma could only imagine what he was putting her Dad and Henry through because of it. He wouldn’t be cruel or mean in any way, but her pirate was at his best when she was close, and honestly it was the same for Emma.

“Well after I finally convinced him that a wedding at sunset would be worth the wait, and that you would love the ceremony to be at that time, he calmed a little bit. But there’s been a fair amount of pacing and your Dad’s gotten the brunt of Killian’s more stubborn desires to see you sooner than he should.”

“Are they already waiting?” Emma inquired, and her mother appeared to gauge her reasons for asking immediately. Killian wasn’t the only one who was impatient, and Emma had been eagerly anticipating this next step so long, she didn’t want to wait anymore, not if she could help it. Snow’s lips curved into a knowing smile and she nodded.

“We can go anytime. He’s waiting for you.”

That was all Emma needed to hear to grab her bouquet of flowers and head out the door arm in arm with her mother. The walk down the stairs and through Emma and Killian’s home wasn’t rushed, but each step was charged with this blissful kind of energy. Emma could feel the space between her and her fiancé lessening, and the time was nearly here for her and Killian to say their vows and make their promises to spend forever with each other. And all the while that they walked towards that next moment, Emma took it all in, tracing every part of their story over again in her mind’s eye that she could. The good and the bad, it was all a part of the fabric of their love, and Emma was grateful for it all because it led them to now.

Some people might think a few of those memories would be too painful for Emma or Killian to bear, but those old scars were merely the proof to Emma that this love was fought for fiercely and was hard earned. She knew that life wasn’t always the picture perfect fairytale people wanted to believe in. Sometimes the people you love messed up, or you pushed them away when that was really the last thing you wanted. The important thing was forgiving people for their weaker moments and working to do better yourself. Both she and Killian had done that time and again, and now they were whole again, with trust and honesty constantly present in this relationship between them.

“Are you ready, Emma?” Her mother asked when they reached the doorway and Emma nodded.

“I’ve been ready for a long time,” she confessed and her mother pressed a kiss to Emma’s cheek before lightly knocking on the door. When she did it opened immediately to reveal Emma’s father, brother, and Henry. Her mother smiled widely and took little Neal from his father, moving to the rest of the ceremony where she would have a front row seat to the festivities.

“Wow,” her father said when he took Emma in in all her wedding day glory. She beamed up at him, loving the fact that her Dad hid nothing from her. His eyes were just as full and sparkling with that excess of emotion that her mother’s had been, and yet Emma didn’t hate it. In fact she embraced those feelings, and she took them for the gifts they were. Her Dad loved her unconditionally, and that love was truly evident from the awe in his voice.

“I dialed Mom back on some of the more princessy elements, but she got her way with the flower crown in the end. So what do you think?”

Emma did a little twirl in the dress that she’d chosen. It didn’t billow out like a princess gown, but there were traces of the kind of dress she’d worn in Camelot. With the lace and the long sleeves, some might call it modest, but it was also exactly what Emma wanted. The details were exquisite, and the flowers in the details were pretty and never failed to make her smile. She felt beautiful in this dress, and she could hardly wait to see Killian’s reaction when he finally saw her after waiting for so long.

“You look perfect, Emma. And you will always be a princess no matter what you’re wearing,” her Dad professed and Emma giggled a bit at that, not feeling at all ashamed of how joyous she was right now. She deserved this. She and Killian both did.

“You look happy, Mom. Actually I don’t even think happy does it justice,” Henry mused and Emma took his hand and squeezed it tight.

“I am, kid. More than happy.”

“Good,” her father agreed. “Because if you weren’t this would all be going in a very different direction. I don’t go giving my daughter’s hand to just any old person, you know.”

Emma laughed at the teasing joke and Henry and her Dad joined in before both of them offered her their arm and they moved through the rest of the space with the same even steps that Emma and her mother had taken before.

At first Emma had anticipated that it would just be her Dad giving her away today, but then Henry had come to her and asked to do so too a few weeks back. He said it was important to him, and that he wanted Killian to really know just how much he approved. Emma had agreed on one condition – that Henry know he wasn’t ‘giving her away’ at all. He would always be her heart and her first priority, and her getting married and eventually adding to the ranks of this family wouldn’t change that. He was her son, her kid, and the person who had given her all the tools to believe in herself and believe in love, and that love and caring she had for him would never change.

“Wait for it,” Henry said right when they were about to go around the bend, and Emma almost asked him what he meant, but then she saw the ceremony before them and she knew what he was after.

Her family had gone all out for this, and while it was elaborate and ornate, it was also somehow simple and intimate just as Emma had wanted. There was white everywhere, in the flowers, in the decorations, and yet there was color too, bursts of it that Emma felt were very reflective of her inner feelings right now. This wedding was gorgeous, but it also felt alive and vibrant, and not stuffy or too meticulously controlled. It was honestly awe inspiring, and brought tears to her eyes, but the most important part of all of it wasn’t the flowers or the guests, it was Killian, who was waiting for her down the path of flower petals looking about to burst with love and excitement.

“You know, I don’t think he’s feeling it so much. Maybe we should turn around,” David joked and Henry laughed at that.

“I don’t think you’d love the reaction you got if you tried, from either of us,” Emma said and her Dad agreed, letting the music fill the space between them as they made the rest of the way down the aisle.

It was a long march, a slow march, and one Emma would have liked to take faster, but she used this time to really take in the man she was about to marry. He was so handsome, dressed in a formal way that still let him be himself, and Emma was not unaffected. In fact her mind raced right past this moment and the reception to the night they’d have together when everybody left and her heart kicked up, but she counseled herself to be patient and to take every part of this in. There was no need to rush, when they could just be in this happy state of grace for a while.

By the time the moment came that she gave her Dad and Henry a kiss and handed off her flowers to put her hand in Killian’s, Emma was on a whole new wavelength. The humor had largely fallen away and all that was left was this intense need to be in this moment with him and memorize every element so she never forgot how perfect this was. This was their day, a day they’d been building towards and would hold dear to their hearts forever, and it was just the start of everything to come.

“I love you, Emma,” Killian whispered before anyone else could get a word in and Emma grinned at that, responding in kind and catching herself just before kissing him. He totally saw it though, and he let her know with another whispered promise that soon enough she’d get that kiss and he’d make it one to remember.

The ceremony was blessedly short, without some of the pomp and circumstance her mother had described as customary in the Enchanted Forest. It was more like the weddings in this realm, but Emma and Killian had designed it so there weren’t all kind of readings and things. It was just the basics from Archie (who was their justice of the peace), and then their vows, which they’d designed to be personal and heart felt.

“Emma – I’ve tried time and time again to find the words to tell you how I feel. I’ve been striving for eloquence, but sometimes simplicity is the clearest way to show one your true heart. So I’ll say this: I have loved you almost since the start, and though it seemed impossible that I could let go of my old life, you made that journey to something better a reality for me. I found strength through your strength, light through your kindness and acceptance, and hope through your love. You have been my northern star, the map that set me on a path of being more, and I promise here and now never to stray from that. I will do right by you and be the man you deserve and the man I’ve always wanted to be.”

Emma could feel herself getting choked up, but she would not cave to those emotions. The tears would come, but she wanted them to wait just a little longer. As if he could read her mind, Killian smiled and brought her hand up to his lips to kiss lightly before continuing.

“Since meeting you, I’ve learned that life as a hero is never easy, but loving you, Emma, that’s the most effortless thing I’ve ever done. You made it impossible not to fall under your spell, and even in our darkest moments, there never came a time when you have not meant the world to me. You, Swan, are a miracle - my miracle - and I intend to show you that every day as long as we live that I was worth you taking the chance on.”

“I’d pick you every time,” Emma whispered and Killian’s hand came up to her cheek, to wipe away one of the tears that had fallen as he whispered back.

“And I you, my love. I will choose you from now until my dying day, and ever after. You are it for me, my greatest dream and surest triumph. I love you.”

Emma wasn’t sure how she managed to get her voice to steady or to find the words after his touching vows, but she was adamant that she do so. Killian, after all, was always the one giving her grand statements and beautiful words, but today they should both reap the benefits of this love, and she’d find a way to let him know that she was just as deep in this as he was, and to convince him that they were equal in each and every way.

“Killian, the day we met you said you could read me like a book, and I thought at the time that was just a line from a cocky pirate who was way too full of himself,” Emma paused because there was a smattering of laughter from their guests and a chuckle from Killian too.

“But you proved even in those first moments that it wasn’t a line. You saw the one thing that I’d struggled with more than anything in the world – trust. I couldn’t bring myself to really trust anyone even when I wanted to and I had all but given up with trying. I thought I could love people and be there for my son and my parents even if I kept parts of myself from them, but you proved me wrong. You showed me over time and with so much perseverance that at the end of the day real hope requires absolute trust, and I can never thank you enough for that.”

Killian ran his thumb across her knuckles lightly, his blue eyes staying trained on her face, and Emma could feel his silent promise that there was nothing she need thank him for. She could almost hear his words in his head, but she knew, even if he couldn’t, that he’d managed to save her from herself by helping her have faith.

“We were both different people then, back there on that beanstalk, guarded and attached to lives neither of us wanted, but somehow, together, we’ve come through that. We went through hell and worse to get to this moment. We tore down walls, weathered every storm, and through all of that my love for you has grown. It’s bigger than anything I ever thought possible, and I know the reason for that is because we know each other, we understand each other, and we recognize that our key to happiness lies together.

“I don’t know where exactly the road will lead us. I suspect there’s a few more villains in our path or crises in our future, but I do know that every day we have together I intend to show you as you’ve shown me that there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. We’re a team, Killian, and from this moment on I promise to never let you lose sight of that. I promise not to run unless it’s to you, and not to lose my hope in you and in us. And I promise to love you, now and always.”

There were a few more steps to go through, some of them incredibly memorable, like the moments when they both said ‘I do’ and when their wedding bands were slipped onto their fingers, but Emma was anxiously awaiting one moment in particular, and when it came she and Killian both struggled to contain themselves.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife -,”

The rest of Archie’s words were lost for Emma and Killian, who gave way to their desires and stole that kiss to seal this union there in front of everyone. It was packed with emotion and promise and light, and though her family was there and the whole town was watching them, Emma and Killian didn’t pull back until they were good and ready. When they did, Emma felt like a final part of her soul had clicked into place, and she was so relieved. Finally she had everything she’d ever wanted, and now the future was unlimited and her world was made new.

“Now what?” Emma asked, her voice low but jesting as the crowd of guests clapped and cheered for the two of them, and Killian only smiled at her, his hand cupping her cheek and his eyes searching hers and seemingly finding exactly what he was looking for.

“Now we live happily ever after.”

Emma loved the sound of that, and in the end, she loved the reality so much better. Because they did find that happy ending they were looking for, and it was all so much more beautiful and worthwhile than anyone ever could have imagined.

……………….

Heaven knows I went through hell Trying to trust somebody else I had all but given up Cause I was never quite enough

Couldn't tell I was going under Suddenly, suddenly that water Pulls you in, pulls you down Balancing on a tightrope wire Build the walls, build the walls up higher Until you, until now

Baby, I feel it deep down in my bones There's a part of me no one else has known When you look, not afraid of what you see But you say show me, you say show me

And I know you can see into my soul To the part of me no one else has known When you look in my eyes, I do believe I can show me, I can show me

Breathing in and breathing out I won't look back and won't look down All the mess that came before Set me up for something more

Couldn't tell I was going under Suddenly, suddenly that water Pulls you in, pulls you down Balancing on a tightrope wire Build the walls, build the walls up higher Until you, until now

Baby, I feel it deep down in my bones There's a part of me no one else has known When you look, not afraid of what you see But you say show me, you say show me

And I know you can see into my soul To the part of me no one else has known When you look in my eyes, I do believe I can show me, I can show me

Baby, I'll leave it all out on the floor (I can show, I can show) Cause the past, it won't break me anymore (I can show, I can show) When you look in my eyes (I can show, I can show) I do believe (I can show, I can show) I can show me (I can show, I can show) I can show (I can show, I can show)

Baby, I feel it deep down in my bones (Deep down in my soul) There's a part of me no one else has known (No one else has known) When you look, not afraid of what you see (Oooh) But you say show me, you say show me (Oooh)

And I know you can see into my soul (see into my soul) To the part of me no one else has known When you look in my eyes, I do believe That you say show me (show me) And you say show me I can show me (Oooh) I can show me

I can show me (I can show me) I will show me

Post-Note: So as I go through these old prompts, I have to say that I am so thrilled for all of them. There is not a single suggestion I have received for this series that I haven’t found to be lovely, and though it’s taken quite a bit of time for some of these to get written, I want to assure all my lovely readers who have asked for songs that I appreciate them floating ideas my way. I am hoping to focus a little more on the mixtape in the coming week and get more of these off my list of to-do songs, but only time will tell. Anyway thank you to my lovely reader who asked for this song in particular, and thank you to all of you for reading! I hope you have a lovely rest of your day!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10,Part 11, Part 12,Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29, Part 30, Part 31, Part 32, Part 33, Part 34, Part 35, Part 36, Part 37, Part 38, Part 39, Part 40, Part 41, Part 42, Part 43, Part 44, Part 45, Part 46, Part 47, Part 48, Part 49, Part 50, Part 51, Part 52, Part 53, Part 54, Part 55, Part 56, Part 57, Part 58, Part 59, Part 60, Part 61, Part 62, Part 63, Part 64, Part 65, Part 66, Part 67, Part 68, Part 69, Part 70, Part 71, Part 72, Part 73, Part 74, Part 75, Part 76, Part 77, Part 78, Part 79, Part 80, Part 81, Part 82, Part 83, Part 84, Part 85, Part 86, Part 87, Part 88, Part 89, Part 90, Part 91, Part 92, Part 93, Part 94, Part 95, Part 96, Part 97, Part 98, Part 99, Part 100, Part 101, Part 102, Part 103, Part 104, Part 105, Part 106, Part 107,Part 108, Part 109, Part 110,Part 111, Part 112, Part 113, Part 114, Part 115,Part 116, Part 117, Part 118, Part 119,Part 120, Part 121, Part 122, Part 123,Part 124, Part 125, Part 126, Part 127, Part 128,Part 129,Part 130, Part 131,Part 132, Part 133, Part 134, Part 135, Part 136, Part 137, Part 138, Part 139,Part 140, Part 141, Part 142, Part 143

#captain swan #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #cs fic #cs ff #cs fluff #cs wedding #emma swan #killian jones #cs oneshot #the charmings and henry #captain swan mixtape #cs mixtape #the captain swan mixtape #captain swan mixtape fic #show me #prompted fic

17 notes · View notes