#in other news I really do love Elsa’s boots | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kookies2000 · 2 years ago

Text

Disney tries to make a sequel, everyone hates it already.

Dreamworks plans a sequel, Shrek 5, Kung Fu Panda 4, and wanting a Puss in Boots 3 and Bad Guys 2, everyone is hyped and dying of waiting!!!

And I fully understand why.

Sequals (Essay because there's a lot of sequels to talk about)

Disney was never the type to serialize their films. Heck, most of their films are stand-alone films because of the fairytales they're based on. You can't exactly make a series out of Cinderella, Snow-white, Beauty and the Beast, etc, without changing a few things from the original. Disney tried and let me just say that Cinderella 3 was most likely their only good sequel. And that's because they retold the story of Cinderella. Even redeeming one of the step sisters. As for the other sequels that Disney has planned or made, 50/50 for me. I'm not looking forward to Frozen 3. Frozen 2 was good until the third act. Elsa just pushed Anna away again, and instead of it being this bad thing, Elsa is rewarded for it. She gets to see her mother and gains an improved version of herself. While Anna struggles by herself. Yes, Elsa did "die," which could've worked as character development if Elsa realized that pushing Anna away was the cause of that death. But no, Anna unites the spirits again, and Elsa comes back to save the kingdom and all it good. There isn't really a punishment for Elsa pushing her loved ones away. Anna was the one with the best development because she had to grieve and push forward without Elsa. And she grew into a better version of herself that way, earning her crown as queen. I can see why people liked the ending, but to me, Elsa really should've reflected on what she did to Anna and Olaf at the end. It's just a little detail that made the film fall flat for me. Toy Story 5.......... what? The first three are masterpieces, really, they are. The 4th was definitely unnecessary, but I liked it as its own stand-alone film. Like a bonus film, a reboot to a possible new chapter for the franchise. But the way they ended it, they separated Woody and Buzz. Bonnie just straight up left Woody behind. I get it. There were hints that Jessie was gonna be her new favorite toy, but Woody should have some value. Yes, I know the film was about Woody accepting that he is no longer in the spot light and must pass down that title to someone else and his new chapter in life doesn't include his old friends. I get it. That happens in real life, too. But a 5th film? How are they exactly gonna do it with the way the 4th film ended. It doesn't seem very possible. Plus, it's not like the 4th film lived up to the first three, I still think they made Buzz a little out of character. And the old toys were underused. Like they could've evened out the roles a little more instead of letting Buzz take the spotlight. The same with Wreck it Ralph. I'm not going into detail about this. The sequel was pretty bad. I get it. Ralph is insecure and doesn't want to lose his only friend. But to put her in a life-threatening situation to get her to stay with you? I'm pretty sure you could've just said you were feeling lonely without her. That was too big of a drastic measure. I know that wasn't his intent, but the writers might want to have rethought about that. Ralph was just a bit too much of a jerk, and the product placement was kinda too much. Cars 2.......... it's a guilty pleasure of mine for a reason. 🤣 Incredibles 2, I thought it was good, but I can see why people have issues with it. The villain didn't make that much sense. The only sequel I am looking forward to is Zootopia 2, and that's because that story has a lot to offer. I'll explain later.

Dreamworks sequals, oh boy, where do I begin!!! Dreamworks serialized their films at the very beginning. Did you know there were at least six El Dorado films planned? If the first film didn't flop, we could've had a whole franchise of the treasure hunting trio. Or the fact that before Shrek was released, they were already working on a Shrek 2. Dreamworks make their films with a franchise in mind. They planned ahead. And each squeal they made only added more and more to their characters.

Shrek 2, Shrek has marriage problems because his in-laws are baiscally racist towards orgers. Shrek 4, he learns to love his life again. I will not mention Shrek the 3rd because that movie should disintegrate and never come back to reality. 😅 And I'm hyped for Shrek 5 because there is still more to write about. The film takes place in a fairytale land. There's hundreds of fairy tales out there that Shrek can make fun of. Hence, more films. The concept itself opens up new stories.

HTTYD. I haven't seen this one, but I know enough. I love the idea of Hiccup growing up and learning something new every film. Finding his mother, dealing with the loss of his father, dealing with being separated from his best friend at the end. Each film gave a new element to his story. A new gain and a new loss. I can't see the film going beyond three films, though. Unless it's gonna be about Hiccups kids, they kinda closed the book, and the concept isn't very open to anything. Unless a new threat comes and Hiccup has to learn to be the new village leader. Which he kinda already did. So I'm glad there isn't a HTTYD 4 planned.

Kung Fu Panda. This franchise has 6 films planned since the very beginning. SIX! And they always add a new element to Po's story. Earning the Dragon Warrior name, finding inner peace and dealing with his PTSD, becoming a teacher and chi master. And there's still more to Chinese culture that can be added to this franchise. The concept opens up the franchise to new ideas. The number of characters they have adds to the story. We got Shifus back story, we got Po's back story, we got Oogways back story, and the fandom is now expecting Tigress's back story soon. The concept and the characters are the reason why this franchise is loved and why we're dying for the 4th film!!!!

Madagascar. Fun fact, Madagascar 3 was, in fact, not the final film. 😅 Yeah, shocking. After the Penguins of Madagascar in 2014, Madagascar 4 was supposed to be released in 2018. So they did plan more films but got delayed with Kung Fu Panda 4 and Puss in Boots 2 because of the reconstruction of the studio. How many more films? I think the 4th one was supposed to create a reboot situation. I have no idea how the story is supposed to continue. I really don't, but at the same time, I do. The first three films had one story. The three wanted to go home to the zoo. Each film took place in a different setting, with each character learning something new about themselves. In the first film, they learned how to be in the wild, just like animals in Madagascar. Second film, they reconnect with their African roots. 3rd film, they realize what they really want is to see the world, so they move in with the circus. In Europe. That's why the sequels worked. Different settings = different discoveries = new story. Yes, their story about getting to the zoo is over, but we can't forget about the situation their in now. They're traveling the world now. The point of Stefanos and Gias character in the 3rd film was that the two were tired of staying in one place. They did the same acts to the point where they lost passion and meaning. They wanted something new and to improve the circus. And now that they have that, new stories can be told. In other words, the new concept opens up a door to a new story. They can travel the world and discover new things and new characters. New culture and even back stories to new characters. As far as I remember, Vitaly has a father like relationship with Gia and Stefano. Why? What's their past? Or we can get new pasts from new characters to come from different parts of the world. The concept of a circus traveling the world is what opens up the door to new stories.

Trolls, I know people don't like this film, and I agree it's for a much younger audience. Like 8 and under. But I can still appreciate the franchise for it's story telling. Poppy has to learn to be queen before becoming queen at the end of the film. She had to learn where happiness comes from and how having others you love in your life can improve on that happiness. Trolls 2, she had to learn about being a good queen. And I do love the metaphors they used in the 2nd film. Using different kinds of music a metaphor of tribes at war with each other. Poppy learned that it was her kingdom that caused the war in the first place. She had to learn that she can't push her own culture onto the other tribes because you can't just think your culture is superior. Like she wanted to make the country trolls happy with her own music simply because she believed the country trolls music was the wrong way. Which makes me love her interactions with Coopers family so much. Learning that her kingdom tried to erase the other tribes culture by replacing it with theirs. That her tribes scrapbooks are just cutouts and glue ons by the winners to rewrite history so they feel comfortable with it. And I love that the king and queen of funk explain it to her. That differences do matter, and no, we are not all the same deep inside. Our culture, our lives, and our experiences are different, and they make us who we are. Harmonizing with different cultures is what makes a good queen. And that's why the sequels work. Why I'm excited for my little sisters to see the franchise. There's so much you can do with a story about a queen trying to do good for her kingdom. And YES, I know Frozen is the same. Like I said, I did enjoy Frozen 2. It's just that the third act fell hard on its face. Like, why is ice the 5th element and not love? There are little details that really made it flop. I can understand Trolls being kiddy and cute because they are made for children and babies. I would much rather have my sisters watch Trolls than Coco Melon any time. I appreciate Frozen for what it is as well. Loved the films, wish it reached its potential and that's why I'm not looking forward to Frozen 3.

Are there any DreamWork films that would work as a franchise? Yes, Megamind can learn how to handle being the towns new hero. Bad Guys, this screams franchise!!! It's like Suicide Squad. Former criminals help to save the world!!! Puss in Boots. Puss, Kitty, and Perrito are three out laws going on adventures. How many new adventures can you write for them to go on? HUNDREDS!!! And this is why I'm excited for Zootopia 2!!! That story DOES have something to look forward to. The concept is great. A cop and a former criminal fighting crime together? HELL YEAH!!! That's why Toy Story worked, too!!! The life of a toy is creative. They watched their owner grow, and each stage of their owners life affected them. When a kid moves houses, they can lose toys on the way. What if a toy gets broken? What if the kid is no longer a kid? What do toys feel about being lost or replaced. The concept is incredible and leaves tons of opportunities to continue the story or create new ones. So I'm a 50/50 on Toy Story 5.

Conclusion

Disney doesn't plan ahead when they make a film. They clearly start to make it up as they go with no plan. DreamWorks does plan ahead. A lot of Disney's concepts don't work for sequals. I can not see a squeal to any of the Disney princesses. Bell? Ariel? Cinderella? Not really much to their story except they lived happily ever after. It's a closed book for good unless they take a Cinderella 3 route and rewrite their stories. Dreamworks do have concepts in their stories that open opportunities. And the #1 reason why we don't get excited about Disney squeals. Reputation. Disney has a horrible reputation when it comes to sequals. Dreamworks have a perfect record. As long as we burn Shrek the 3rd from our minds. Not talking down on Disney. I know they have the ability to create great classic stories. But only stand-alone stories. While DreamWorks has a gift in making franchises and taking risks in their stories.

Ps. SHREK 5 IS OFFICIALLY ANNOUNCED!!!!!

#Disney #dreamworks #sequels #movies #shrek 5 #can't wait to see Shrek #but what I'm really excited for #is seeimg my favorite Spainard and his Mexican wife and Mexican bestie

30 notes · View notes

general-du-vallon · 9 months ago

Text

Aramis and the babies, 3

part one is here.

‘So here I am’ turned out to be some sort of accidental under statement. Aramis bumped into Porthos everywhere, and every time got steadily more awkward. Passing on the stairs, coming out of the flats at the same time (Aramis pretended to have left something inside to avoid an awkward walk down together, Porthos did the same, and they walked down together in awkward silence), arriving at the front door together the time Aramis lost his key fob thing (the council charged for new ones, Porthos admitted to losing his within a week of getting it and usually just broken in, he was apparently ‘okay at locks’). In the supermarkets, at the playground, at the community food project the estate collectively ran out of a community room that was coming to bits around them.

“Papa, look,” Hugo said, one day. “Cat.”

It wasn’t a cat, it was Porthos, just at the next table. Hugo bounced happily in Aramis’s arms and waved to Porthos, he loved the car boot sale he was in a really sociable mood. Louis was at Anne’s and Rochelle had a sleepover, Henry and Agnes were with them, and Marie was staying for a little while. She was very very quiet. Aramis was worrying because he didn’t know where Luc was, usually when Marie got passed to him Luc came along too, but this time it was just Marie, and the social workers told him he knew as much as he needed to. Marie tucked herself behind his knees and he nearly tripped backwards, Porthos had come reluctantly over since Hugo had waved.

“Morning,” Porthos said, waving. He waved with the hand that was holding coffee. He looked bewildered when it spilled everywhere, Hugo laughing at him and waving a third and fourth time.

“I’m Henry,” Henry said, at the same time as Marie tugged at Aramis’s trouser leg.

“Ah, yeah, Henry, Agnes, Marie,” Aramis said, pointing them out.

“Cat!” Hugo said.

“She’s doing great, keeps climbing the curtains and sleeping on top of doors and things,” Porthos said. Hugo nodded seriously, waiting for more information about the cat. “Tried to get out the window the other day, probably after a bird.” Hugo’s eyes widened. “She didn’t get out, I keep the windows on those hook things.”

“The windows don’t open wide enough to climb out, we know that don’t we, Hugo?” Henry said, grinning. He was missing a tooth and looked rakish, white-blond hair even blonder from sun, long and plaited like Elsa from Frozen. Specifically like Elsa. He was obsessed with Elsa. Not the whole movie, just her.

“Yeah,” Hugo agreed. “Can’t sit out there.”

“Out where?! It’s just sky!” Aramis said, turning on the two boys, Henry was laughing at him, setting him off on purpose. Marie was tugging again. “Yeah, pipsqueak?”

He crouched to hear her, putting an arm around her since she could no longer hide behind him. She whispered her curiosity in his ear, quite a few questions about who Porthos was.

“He has a cat,” Hugo said, too loud, Porthos had been answering a polite query from Agnes, but his gaze came to rest on them instead.

“Are you a giant?” Marie asked, at a whisper but bold enough to be heard.

Porthos shifted. He seemed pleased about her misapprehension, chest swelling, standing taller in his boots. They had little heels, his jacket was big and leather and padded out his shoulders through sheer bulk, he was already big but he was dressed even bigger, and he drew himself taller and held himself wider and beamed down at them the bright day behind him, like some sort of benevolent sun god. He really was gorgeous, Aramis thought, regretfully, remembering that they’d so far found nothing to talk about.

“I won’t eat you,” was the answer Porthos finally settled on, then bent forward, widening his eyes, face quite serious, “yet.”

Marie kicked him, which Aramis thought was perfectly fair. He pretended he hadn’t seen a thing, ignoring Porthos’s surprised yelp. Hugo giggled, climbing out of Aramis’s arms and heading for Porthos. Aramis hoped Hugo wasn’t going to kick him as well, he’d have to either tell Marie off or wait and see, though, and he chose the second option. Hugo patted Porthos’s knee solicitously, looking up at him, singing wordlessly. Aramis opened his mouth to explain but Porthos was nodding, crouching down so Hugo didn’t have to crane up. Marie leant back into Aramis to watch.

“Tell me that again, kiddo, I was too high up I didn’t understand,” Porthos said.

Hugo groped for words, failed to find any, patted Porthos’s knee again, and sang incy wincy spider, showing Porthos the hand gestures he was learning at school. He tugged his jumper.

“He wants to tell you about his spiders,” Aramis said.

“You got spiders under there?” Porthos asked. “Not real ones, surely? On your shirt?”

Hugo flopped into the grass. He wasn’t much for standing up today. Aramis scooped him up and Marie clambered onto his back, Henry linking arms with them and Agnes, ready to get moving. Porthos stood as well and gave Aramis a helpless shrug.

“Ah, Agnes is staying with us at the moment,” Aramis said, not finding anything to talk about but not really quite finding a way to leave. “For a bit.”

“Philippe’s having a routine operation,” Agnes said, “my husband.”

“Oh, I hope it goes well,” Porthos said, very genuinely, body language softening and opening up somehow.

“If you want to. Um,” Aramis stopped. What he wanted was to have sex with Porthos. Quite a lot of it. Preferably at Porthos’s house, tonight.

“Yeah, alright,” Porthos said. Aramis forgot for a second he’d not actually said outloud about sex. “There’s the pub?”

“Yes, alright,” Aramis said. The pub could definitely be a step on his way to having sex. Aramis could go with that. He smiled, and Porthos grinned back.

“Your passengers look about ready to be off,” Porthos said. “Are we friends, Marie?”

“Promise not to eat me,” Marie said into Aramis’s shoulder. “If you do eat my brother will come.”

“Tear your arms, boff!” Hugo called, which Aramis wished he’d never said. It was sticking.

“Alright. I like my arms, better just stick to eating cake,” Porthos said. “Maybe a biscuit now and then. A little bit of pizza.”

“And vegetables,” Henry said. “Some are quite nice, Aramis makes them so they don’t taste yucky.”

Aramis squeezed Henry’s arm, grateful for his off kilter wingmanship. Porthos clicked his tongue and looked around, faltered, asked if seven was a good time, and then wandered away. Agnes leant across Henry to squeeze Aramis’s arm, delighted by the whole thing. She asked him so many questions as they meandered the last few tables and ended up, as always, at the ice cream van, pleased as anything that he’d found someone to flirt with.

Aramis spent the afternoon tracking down Luc and checking he was okay and not going spare worrying over Marie. Without, of course, talking to Luc. He wasn't going to leave a trail. And then he was late to the pub because he spent the evening having a nice chat with Marsac and setting up one or two very little, very subtle things. Just a tiny little bit of manipulation, a miniscule amount of machinations. It wasn’t that he disliked Marie and Luc’s father, he wasn’t a bad man. But regardless of school being important and Luc not needing as much care as Marie and being able to stay, for their overall wellbeing, Aramis decided he’d just do a little bit of poking and prodding.

He was halfway to the pub at a jog when he got a call from Luc’s social worker. Then outside the door he got another call from Marie’s social worker with a stern telling off. Aramis admitted nothing, said he had no idea what she was talking about, made bewildered noises, and ducked into the pub. He saw Porthos holding up the bar, eyes on a darts game, and then he saw Porthos go over to tell the huge bloke playing that he was cheating, and then Aramis saw the huge bloke square off with Porthos.

“Hi,” Aramis called, going over, not sure if his intent was to break it up or join in. He’d see which way things went. Either or.

Porthos relaxed, though, and after a charm offensive the huge bloke was introducing himself as Amyot and offering to buy Porthos a beer.

“I’m on a date,” Porthos said, “he might think it was a bit funny if I let you buy the drinks instead of him.”

“What?” Aramis said.

“Seeing as he was late, I assumed he’d be paying,” Porthos said. That was to Aramis, not to Amyot, who’d quickly lost interest and gone back to cheating at darts. “Come on. We can sit out the back, the garden’s shut because of a mishap-”

“You and Flea breaking patio furniture is not a mishap,” the barkeep said, appearing all of a sudden and giving Aramis a start. He recognised Christoph from the community larder thing, but didn’t know him well. “You’re paying for your drinks until I’ve fixed that.”

“I’m paying tonight,” Aramis said, leaning on the bar.

“Aramis, right? I’m not letting any friend of Porthos open a tab, just a friendly warning,” Christoph said, Aramis had got distracted watching Porthos put on a chagrined ‘aw shucks who me?’ performance. “What am I getting you both, then?”

Aramis ordered whatever cinder was on tap, and whatever Porthos had been drinking already, paid up front, and headed them out into the closed garden. There was a broken table, a broken pot, a clearly repotted sapling, a couple of broken chairs, and a sturdy bench set against the wall of the pub which is where Porthos headed, sitting in a comfortable sprawl, long legs stretched in front of him, pint resting on one strong thigh. Aramis sat too close and took a sip of his cider.

“Why’d you ask me out?” Porthos said. “We’ve been doing the awkward shuffle as if we’ve already had awful sex and found out we sort of hate each other.”

“I wasn’t actually asking you out,” Aramis said. Porthos’s head came up and he froze. “I was about to suggest we had sex, but then I realised I was literally swamped under my children, and it might be a little inappropriate, and then you were suggesting the pub. I thought I might come along, do some flirting, do some wooing. I’m very good at flirting and wooing. I’m a romantic.”

“I see,” Porthos said, and his hand dropped to Aramis’s thigh and gave it a squeeze. “Alright then. We paid Christoph for his shit beer though so we should drink it. You want to smoke your terrible herbal things?”

“Not really, they are a balm only to be applied when the children are particularly baffling,” Aramis explained. “I love them more than my own life, and probably anyone else’s life too really, but my god they can be loud and unreasonable.”

“To be fair, so can adults,” Porthos said. “I like them.”

“Adults?”

“Daft.”

“Children?”

“Your children.”

Aramis preened as if it was a compliment, which it was since it was him who taught them manners.

“My specific children,” Aramis said, sighing happily.

“Yeah, although you seem to have an awful lot,” Porthos said, brow furrowing.

“I have three,” Aramis said, a bit surprised. “Hugo, Louis, and Rochelle. You met them. Louis lives partly with his mum, but he still counts.”

“And Henry, and Marie, and Marie said something about another brother, unless she meant Hugo was gonna tear off my arms,” Porthos said. “I mean maybe she did. Or Louis. Or Henry. And! You had a baby the other day.”

It sounded like an accusation and made Aramis laugh. He couldn’t remember for a second which baby Porthos might mean.

“Oh! Raoul. He’s Athos’s baby. I missed a lot of Louis’ baby years, and of course Roch’s, not so much Hugo but he was one when he came. So Athos lets me steal Raoul away sometimes, I think he has quite kinky sex when I have Raoul,” Aramis said. “Athos is a friend.”

“So Raoul isn’t yours. But I still count… six.”

“Henry is Agnes and Philippe’s kid, I’m not his Dad. They lived with me when he was a baby, him I got the baby years he was lovely, really lovely. They got their own place when he was five, they just come to stay when Philippe’s away nowadays. Or for fun. Or Philippe and Henry come down for the football, Philippe grew up around here.”

“Five,” Porthos said.

“Marie and Luc are on a foster placement,” Aramis said. “They come and go.”

“I know how that goes,” Porthos said, and raised his glass. “Alright, three. But to be fair, it still sounds like you have a lot of kids.”

“Yeah,” Aramis said, beaming, “I do.”

“I just have Grace,” Porthos said. “Charon and Flea’s kid. Sometimes… anyway. Bit complicated.”

“You moved down to be closer to them?” Aramis asked.

“Sort of. Not really. I was in the army. Not recent, it was back a while now, I didn’t like what I was being asked to do so I whistle-blew, and it didn’t go so well. Had a bit of trouble getting work, I was doing those oil rig gigs you know?”

“Vaguely,” Aramis said. “I’m sorry. I think it is admirable to stand by your convictions, especially in a situation like that. You’re talking around a lot, but I think that it sounds like you did something pretty impressive.”

“Sometimes it feels like it, sometimes it feels like it was stupid, and sometimes it’s more like I didn’t have any choice,” Porthos said. “Doesn’t matter. I decided to go back to school, I’m getting a degree. Doing some shifts at Tesco, and I get bits for a few construction companies, I know a few guys.”

“Army guys?”

“Sort of. Adjacent,” Porthos said. “You’re impressive too, you know. Giving kids a place that’s safe and home and good.”

Aramis shrugged and to his surprised Porthos went all intense, sitting forward, pint put aside so he could hold Aramis’s face. Aramis met his eyes, surprised, and then he was being kissed fiercely, wonderfully.

“It matters. It’s important,” Porthos said, low and gravelly. “It matters to me. I don’t know what to say.”

He kissed Aramis again instead of saying more, and Aramis was fine with that. He got a grip on Porthos’s leather jacket and pulled, getting a good angle.

parts:

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 [complete]

#bbc musketeers #my fic #aramis and the babies #aramis/porthos #portamis

3 notes · View notes

true--north · 2 years ago

Text

Beware Of The Spoilers

The Polar Nights quotes: Anna and Kristanna.

"Being a queen is not a work, it is a way of life".

"Fortunately, Anna liked her new role, and the kingdom reciprocated her. The people of Arendelle loved the new queen as much as she loved them."

"I love my responsibilities! All of them. Being a queen and working hand in hand with the people of Arendelle to make everyone happy is just incredible. It's so nice when something works out, isn't it?"

"Anna began to count her fingers, listing the completed tasks: This week Herr Oldring and I made a watch to present it to the Queen of Chato when she comes to visit; I also cut the ribbon at the opening ceremony of a new trading house; and also held a three-hour meeting about the types of Arendelle soils."

Mattias helps Anna a lot:

"I don't know what I would do without Mattias."

Anna loves the meetings and reports Elsa didn't love.

"Arendelle is lucky to have you. I'm proud of you."

"And I'm proud of you. The Forest and the Spirits are also lucky to have you. I wish Father and Mother could see us now."

But Anna still a little nervous, if she is good enough.

"I constantly worry that I will forget something important, or everything will go wrong through my fault."

"We still have a lot of work at home! Home, this word made her want to smile. It wasn't just a place where Anna was hanging up her cloak on a hook, put her boots and all her clothes. Her family lived there. Her subjects lived there. This was her kingdom."

Elsa and Kristoff constantly tease each other (Kristoff ironically called her Your Snow Majesty), but Elsa really ships them, though laughing at their romantic gestures (Aroace Elsa, yeah). She wished they were already married and had many children.

"Elsa couldn't argue that he was perfect for her sister."

She wants to help Kristoff to organize the engagement party.

"Elsa managed to love Kristoff like a brother. She loved him for his kindness to her sister, for how he suited her. Of course, Anna is independent, smart and able to take care of herself. But it's better when there is someone to rely on, someone to laugh with."

The royal family:

"Kristoff can stay in charge and look after everything. He's going to be part of the royal family soon, so let him get used to it."

Anna loved when Kristoff cooked for her, especially a fish soup(but not the Flemingard at all)

Anna, when Kristoff forgot her:

"She couldn't imagine a world in which Kristoff didn't know her. In which he did not love her."

Kristoff kissed Anna's hands.

Anna stood on tiptoe, kissed him and ran to the stables. Kristoff turned to Elsa and his smile immediately disappeared. "Will you look after her?"

Kristoff lost memory, but Anna doesn't:

"She thought of this hard worker from the mountains, who won her heart with his love for ice, his manner of speaking for his reindeer, his addiction to culinary fads.

Kristoff. Her Kristoff. Memories flooded Anna. Their first kiss when she gave him a sleigh, their first charade game. The moment when he got down on one knee and proposed to her. Kristoff, her Kristoff.

No, she can not accept, just can not that Kristoff's love vanishes because of some undead thing."

She reminds him that she still love him:

"She went up to him and kissed him on the lips. "I love you. And you love me and we have our whole life ahead of us. I'll come back and you'll remember everything again."

When the evil was defeated:

"Anna snuggled closer to Kristoff and put her head on his shoulder. "Delicious. Perfect." whispered she. Kristoff hugged her."

By the way, Anna still hates Hans and she said he was not so handsome.

translated by me from a non-English language.

#kristanna #the polar nights #queen anna #polar nights: cast into darkness #frozen 2

71 notes · View notes

luthiensaralonde · 3 years ago

Text

oh, for fox sake

stephen strange x f!reader

summary: Where the reader is Stephen’s wife and comes home to see the Sanctum covered in snow. Your not happy about it at first, but Stephen knows exactly how to keep you warm.

word count: 1k

warnings: No smut, but sexual content implied, things get very steamy, explicit descriptions, such as the brief description of an arousal, a few “f” bombs from an angry reader. The reader is wearing a skirt. Stephen is a randy bas-

a/n: I had to write this the moment the trailer dropped, even though I clearly said I wasn’t writing Stephen Strange stories anymore so I can focus on other characters. I lied.

stephen strange masterlist

Stephen Strange was your husband. Being the sorcerer's wife wasn't always easy, but you loved him immensely and wouldn't change him for the world. But he did enjoy testing your patience from time to time.

It was just an average day in New York, and you decided to go shopping. You asked Stephen to join you, but he declined to focus on some spell he was secretive, yet excited about. Stephen didn't have much to do lately, and he often complained he was bored. You knew such a brilliant mind needed to be challenged, but things were getting a little out of hand in the Sanctum. He was trying out so many spells, and sometimes things happened that weren't supposed to happen.

Today was one of those days.

You were hit with a sudden chill the moment you opened the Sanctum doors. You halted and closed your eyes from the sudden glimmering white that blinded you. "What the fuck?"

You opened your eyes and stepped through the doors, nearly slipping on ice. "What. The. Fuck." You looked around at the snow-covered Sanctum with a slacked jaw. It took you a moment to process what you saw before the annoyance began to set in.

"STEPHEN." You shouted, "What the fuck?"

You saw him then, rounding the corner with his Columbia sweatshirt, blue parka, and sweatpants. Your eyes averted to the boots, and you rolled your eyes before meeting his twinkling eyes and impish grin. "Stephen, baby. What the fuck?" You tried to sound calm, not wanting to jump to conclusions.

He held his hand out in defense, "I can explain?"

"Why our home looks like Elsa's castle? And why—" You gestured to his clothes, "You look like a middle-aged midwest dad."

He tilted his head at you, his eyes narrowing in your direction, "Middle-aged?"

You weren't wrong. "Tell me why the Sanctum looks like this?"

He glanced around absentmindedly, "Oh, you know. A spell gone wrong. It'll go back to normal soon enough."

"Spell gone wrong?" You crossed your arms over your chest. "I wasn't even gone that long. Honestly? Where is Wong? He was supposed to watch you while I was away."

"I'm not a child." He protested with a scoff. He brought his 'oh for fox sake' mug to his lips and sulked into the hot liquid.

You stepped forward, "Well, it's why we don't have kids yet. Because I'm raising you." You poked his chest, "It's fucking cold in here."

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling your body into his. "I know. I'm sorry." He muttered his apologies, but a part of you wondered if he was really sorry. The sick bastard was probably enjoying this.

You eyed the staircase. You really needed to get up there, but the stairs didn't exactly look safe. You pulled back from your husband, "I need to take this upstairs." You lifted the shopping bag in your hand, "Please, for the love of warmth, fix this shit." You gave him a long look before making your way toward the stairs.

"That's not a good idea—"But it was too late. You slipped on the third step but caught yourself on the rails.

"Stephen!" You said through gritted teeth.

You heard him release a long sigh before walking over to scoop you into his arms. You glanced up at him, and he smiled fondly down at your annoyed face, "Allow me." The cloak was now around his shoulders, and he glided up the stairs with you in his arms.

You rolled your eyes, "This is stupid. Put me down." You wiggled out of his arms the moment you reached the second floor. "Honestly. Is the entire place like this?"

He looked down like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. After a beat, he gave a slow nod, "Yes."

"Our bedroom?"

"Yes."

"The bed?"

"Yes."

"Oh, for fox sake." You turned away in frustration.

He chuckled at your pun, "Very cute."

You turned to look at him and dropped the bag at your feet to wrap your arms around yourself. "Stephen, I'm freezing."

He smirked, "Well, I can go retrieve your coat. Or—"He stepped closer to you, "We can do something else to keep you warm."

Your cheeks heated up. He was standing so close to you now, his piercing eyes looking down at you like a hungry wolf, "That's if you're into middle-aged dads."

Your breath hitched the moment his hands found your waist, and he reeled you into him, pressing you tenderly against his body. Your insides burned, and you found your eyes closing shut the moment his lips found yours. He kissed you eagerly, his cool hands gripping the back of your neck to part your lips with his tongue.

You melted into him, wrapping your arms around his fluffy parka. You could feel his excitement through his sweatpants and against your hip. You moaned into his mouth before pulling back from him suddenly, "Stephen, where are we supposed to do this?" You glanced around at all the snow and ice covering literally everything.

He lifted you, gripping your thighs just as your legs wrapped around his waist. He pushed you back against the wall, "Just like this." His lips found yours again, silencing your worries.

You wrapped your arms around him tightly, trying to enjoy the moment and not worry, "We can slip. This is so dangerous." You murmured against his lips anyway.

"I like dangerous." He managed to say as he trailed hot kisses down your neck. He reached beneath your shirt, tugging at the clasp of your bra.

You pulled on his parka, sliding the garment off and taking his face into your hands to kiss him on the lips again. He lifted his hands over your shoulders, casting a shield around both of you to keep him from slipping during your tryst.

It was so risky out in the open. Wong could walk in any moment, but the poor man wasn't oblivious to you and Stephen's escapades. He's probably seen more than he bargained for.

You shivered the moment Stephen removed your shirt, the ice-covered wall was freezing against your naked back, but you weren't stopping now. He hiked your skirt up to your hips, and you squeezed your thighs around his waist. Honestly, making love in a snowy Sanctum was never on your list of places to do it, but now that it was happening, you wouldn’t dare complain about it.

#stephen strange x reader #doctor strange x reader #stephen strange x f!reader #doctor strange x f!reader #doctor strange imagine #stephen strange imagine #stephen strange x you #doctor strange x you #mcu x reader #avengers x reader #mcu x you #avengers x you #spiderman nwh #userkristina

1K notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

Text

Hue and Cry

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; abuse of power, threats, chase.

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You notice a sudden change in Lord Barnes.

Note: This is just me being self-indulgent. I start a new job on Monday and yesterday, someone close to me passed. I’m trying to distract myself but I’m too stressed to work on an standing series. This will have at least one other part.

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You scattered fresh herbs over the rushes carefully as you backed down the hall. The woven mats would absorb the scent and keep the floors tidy until the next sweep. When you reached the corner, you tied up the sachet and gathered up your bucket and broom. The corridors were already smelling fresher though the task had kept you well past the evening meal.

Your usual chores you assigned to Marjorie. As the years piled on her crooked back, she wasn’t as suited to the more physical tasks. Sweeping would have been too hard on her and you didn’t mind the solitary of the work.

You turned past the kitchens and stopped. Your footsteps seemed to echo behind you. You looked back but saw nothing in the shadows. It was late and most of the castle was asleep already, the torches were snuffed but for a few and you could find you way through the dark easily in the familiar castle.

You went to the rear door of the castle on the lower green, just beside the stables, and dumped the dirt. You heard the horses snoring and nicking as the moon shone down on the wood roofs. You basked for a moment in the silver light and the brisk night air. The harvest season was coming to an end and it would soon be cold.

You dropped the bar as you went back inside and returned your broom and bucket to the cellar. Again you heard a step that did not quite align with your own as you came into the corridor. You spun slowly and glanced around. Some of the younger servants were known to sneak around after hours and there was the odd mouse that skittered over the stone. You saw nothing and went on, more than ready to retire to your straw mattress beside Elsa.

“You sent the old lady,” the voice had your heart in your throat and you stopped short to bow to your liege.

“My lord, I was occupied elsewhere. Harold approved the reassignment,” you said shakily. It was unlike him to traverse the lower floors.

“She spilled wine on my tunic,” Lord Barnes said, “and she can barely see her own crooked nose.”

“My lord, she is old, we did not want her to tax herself--”

“She is a servant. Like you. You have your work and she has hers,” he stepped forward out of the dark shadows though there was no lantern or torch to limn his features, “I bid you to bring my meals and tidy my chambers, no one else. There are far too many covetous servants.”

You were put off by his confrontation. You replaced his former chambermaid several years back but Lord Barnes hardly seemed to warm to the change. He never offered more than an obligatory courtesy and when he was present during your tasks, he rarely spoke at all. Your service had been one of complacency on both sides, so you wondered why he would come to the lower floors to search you out after dark.

“I will be there tomorrow, my lord,” you said, “I apologise for my negligence.”

“And every day thus,” he demanded as he got closer.

“Yes, my lord,” you lowered your chin, “as you wish.”

He stopped only an inch from you and you felt him staring down at you. You didn’t dare look back, that would be an affront to any noble. He let out a long breath and slowly backed away.

“Go, you must be worn out from your hard work,” he retreated, “and there is as much to do on the morrow.”

“My lord,” you bent again and listened to his footsteps fade.

When you dared to look up, he was gone. The man was always particular, even those of his own standing were not guaranteed an audience, even as they visited his estate. He stayed far from court since his injury and on those occasions he did travel to the capital, it was not for more than a fortnight.

You did not take the encounter lightly. He had dismissed labour for less and you did not relish a job outside the castle, there wasn’t much to be had in the village. As dull as the work was, it provided you a place to sleep and comforts not known to many others of your breeding.

🏰

When you went to the lord’s chambers the next morning, he was away. His horse had been saddled for an early ride and you did not expect him until his evening meal. After your tasks, you kept busy until you were due with his supper. When you arrived with the tray, he was not there. You waited but he did not appear. You left the tray covered to keep the food warm and went to attend the last of your nightly duties.

You retired without seeing the lord once. The next day passed in kind, and the next, and the next. You wondered for a moment if it was due to his ire with you but quickly shrugged away the notion. Lord Barnes did not think so much of you and his absence was not so unusual. He was a reticent man even if he was willful.

The first you saw him again was with his supper. He sat at his large carved desk as you entered with the tray and you crossed to the round painted table. He raised a hand and tutted as he didn’t look up from the parchment before him.

“Bring it here,” he ordered.

You went to him and set down the tray on the left flank of his desk. You filled his goblet and he blindly reached over to take it. He gulped and kept his head down as he picked the chicken to pieces and chewed over the inky words.

You retraced your steps to the door, usually he ate alone, as he did most things. You only returned to clear his scraps.

“Do you not see the mess?” he asked without looking up. You turned and followed his sharp point to the shelves along the wall. “It is difficult to focus in the chaos.”

“My lord,” you nodded and went to the oaken shelves. You rearranged the crooked spines and tidied the stack of loose leaves. You took the cloth from your apron and wiped down the line of inkwells. You could hear him chewing quietly behind you as he shifted in his chair.

“And you will ready my bed for the night,” he demanded as you finished up, “pull back the covers, it’s been a tiresome day.”

He lifted the parchment and leaned back as he wiped his fingers on his breeches. You acquiesced with a “yes, my lord,” and went to his bedchamber.

You folded down the heavy blankets and linen and fluffed the pillows. You took the brick from the foot of the bed and set it in the hearth. The fall slipped in through the windows and the chill of the castle was no longer so welcomed.

“I won’t need that,” Barnes said as he entered. He was so quiet, you jumped and stood straight. You spun and bowed your head.

“Will that be all, my lord?” you asked as he unbuttoned his overcoat with one hand.

“My footman has been stricken with an ague after we were caught in the rain,” he said evenly, “you can aid with my wardrobe.”

“My lord?”

“Here,” he pointed in front of him and pulled his jacket free of his left arm, “you will take these,” he handed you the garment as you neared, “to the laundries.”

You kept your eyes on the plain grey fabric as he shoved his boots aside and added his socks to your armful, then lifted his tunic as you peered at the floor. He pulled of the leather glove that hid his iron hand, the metal forged to the mirror of his real extremity. You resisted the yen to look higher up the artificial appendage.

You were unprepared to act as his footman and as he stripped away his layers it made you squirm. He rolled down his breeches and slung them over the rest of his clothes.

He stood in only in his undershorts and bent your head lower, “my lord.” You backed away and he caught your elbow. He stopped you and you hugged the pile of clothes with your other arm.

“Didn’t you miss me?” he asked.

The question struck you. You were unsure how to answer. You were used to the silent, brooding lord, not this pensive, prodding master.

“My lord?” you frowned.

“You didn’t?” he urged, “do you not enjoy your duties?”

“I am only… uncertain of what you mean, my lord. I apologise for my displeasing response but I do not know how to answer.”

You looked at his hand still on your elbow. He squeezed and slowly his palm glided up your sleeve. You shivered as he pushed his hand against your neck and his thumb tickled under your chin.

“I must confess I missed you,” he said, “I did stay away because I was upset at your absence and thought to punish you in kind but it seems, it hasn’t had the same effect.”

“What do-- my lord?” you kept your eyes down as his hand moved higher and he brushed along your lower lip.

“I know I shouldn’t let these… feelings persist but there are many lords who indulge without emotion. I assure you, I do not touch you in a meaningless manner.”

“My lord,” you took a step back and he stopped you again. This time his hand gripped your jaw. He pulled you flush to him.

“Look at me,” he hissed. Your lip trembled and you raised your eyes reluctantly, “you continue to deflect me; your lord.”

You stared at him, searched his deep blue eyes desperately, and shivered, “I only seek to fulfill my duties as your chambermaid.”

“And I offer you more. Offer you… privilege over duty,” he rasped, “I would not mistreat you.”

Your heart raced and you wiggled in his grasp. You peeked down at your armful, “I should get these to the laundries, as you bid, my lord.”

He was silent, just for a moment, then he let go of you and tore his clothes from your arm. “You would deny me?”

You stumbled back and watched him fearfully, “my lord, I only-- I am only a maid--”

“I have a dozen maids,” he growled, “I would have you as more. I would take care of you.”

He bore down on you again and you backed up until you were at the hearth, the mantle jutting out against your head. You turned your head as he loomed over you and his hot breath washed over you. His hand was again at your throat as his lips trailed along your cheek.

“A lord does not ask,” he sneered, “a servant obeys.”

“My lord--”

“Shhh,” he hushed as he turned your head and pressed his lips to yours. He parted, his nose rubbing against yours as his hand stretched over your neck, “I can be kind or I can be cruel. Thus far, I’ve spent most of my patience on you.”

You quivered as he kissed you again. You were too afraid to resist as his hand descended to your bodice and he squeezed. You gasped into his mouth and he smiled against you. He grasped your waist and pressed himself to you.

Your blood went cold as the panic rose up your spine. As he tugged at your skirts, you were blinded by fear. You reached up along the mantle as he dipped his head to kiss your neck. You couldn’t think through your shock, your body seemed to move off instinct.

You grasped the beaten metal vase and swung it down on Lord Barnes’ head. He grunted and stumbled back as he touched his head and tried to shake away the pain of the impact. You tossed the vase and it bounced over the stone as you scurried for the door. You tripped as you reached the receiving chamber and heard him behind you, his steps slowly gaining strength.

“You little bitch,” his tone turned to fire.

You struggled to get the heavy door open and raced into the hall. You lifted your skirts as you barreled ahead of him on the stone. Your thin soles slapped the mats and you hurdled down the stairs as you heard his pants coupled with your own. Down and down and down and down.

You led him through the mazed corridors and flitted out through the lower doors behind the stables. You fell into the dirt and quickly climbed back to your feet. You tore off across the yard as he swore into the air and his steps came to a halt.

“I will find you!” he shouted as you head for the wall, your only hope was the tree winding up the east corner, “You won’t get far!” You reached the trunk of the towering oak and your hands scraped against the bark as you hopped and latched onto the lowest branch. You heard him calling to others, “saddle my horse! Rise and ready my horse, boy!”

You reached the top of the wall, weak and worn and hooked your leg over the stone. You carefully scaled the uneven brickwork and the tangled vines. As your feet met the dirt, you turned and fled towards the tree line, darkened with the myths of vengeful wraiths and wicked witches, driven by the threat of a worse monster behind you, the voices and hooves an omen of his intent.

#Bucky Barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #medieval #medieval au #medieval!au #fic #miniseries #dark fic #dark!fic #mcu #marvel #au #winter soldier

780 notes · View notes

agathaharknes · 4 years ago

Note

yennaia + gamer au

This was supposed to be three sentences and definitely not crack but I just had to... sksjsjssksjjs.

Yennaia prompt: Gamer AU.

LINK TO ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN IN THE REPLIES.

Word count: 1.8k+ Pairing: Yennaia. Rating: T.

Tissaia really had no idea why she was doing this. Perhaps to appease Rita. Perhaps because her addiction to nicotine had worsened over the course of one year of a bloody Continent-wide pandemic and she was loath to use her credit card every time she needed a new pack of cigarettes. Perhaps she was going through a midlife crisis to cope with the fact that being the Chancellor of Aretuza College was already stressful enough without half the generations there trying to fool her subordinates into thinking cardboard replicas or even mannequins counted as attendance or simply because the rest of the Board of Governors (Stregobor) couldn't differentiate between what could be said through an email and what required her to clean her entire house so the background of her call was pristine.

Her controller vibrated in her hands, (Why, for the love of the Gods, couldn't that setting be turned off?) her knuckles turning white from gripping it so strongly. "Oh, for fu- heaven's sake." There, she had been ambushed. Again. A funny and wholly unexpected thing happened, though, one of the users turned on her companions, offing the lot of them with clean headshots the brunette definitely couldn't pull off in the span of twenty seconds.

"Uhh..." What does one say when your virtual saviour just betrayed her entire party on a whim and was being cursed at obnoxiously loudly and vulgarly for it?

Yennefer ignored Sabrina calling her names that absolutely applied to her and her hormonal reaction to a lovely blue-eyed MILF the likes of which she had only seen in her dreams. "No thanks needed, love. I was getting tired of seeing you frown like someone had keyed your car every time you got killed. A pretty thing like you should only have cause to smile." Oh, Gods, now she sounded like a creepy old man that lived in his mum's basement. Great. Good job. Her Social Studies major was an absolute hit. Fuck her life. Fuck Oxenfurt College. And fuck Sabrina's witch-like cackling while she was at it. "Name’s Yennefer." She choked out miserably.

Tissaia scowled at her laptop. Hackers. Amazing. This was the best day of her new normal life. "Mind telling me how you broke through the most expensive antivirus in the Continent, dear? Because now I really need a refund." Now she also needed to contact Aretuza’s IT team on a Saturday night, because she was not about to mess any further with these blasphemous machines, thank you very much.

Wait, what? "That wasn't me... You left your camera on." The woman legitimately squealed at that, her oversized jumper sliding down her left shoulder and exposing just a glimpse of her collarbone as she pinned up her hair into a bun with... were those pens fashioned as swords? Oh, bugger, this was so not the time to get turned on! "Are you alright?" Mercifully Sabrina, Renfri and Phillipa were already accosting someone else, else she was sure the brunette would've completely lost it, more than she already was doing, anyways. "Hello?" No answer.

Tissaia was fishing for her boots when she started ranting, “Oh, don’t you worry! I’m fine! Just dandy! This is exactly how I wanted my life to go.” She motioned with her hand to the space around her. “I wished for nothing more than dealing with complete morons from nine to six, five days a week, whilst trying to make sure my sanity doesn't desert me.” Biting her lower lip for a moment she began checking that the ends of the laces were the same length when she pulled them up. “Running right after to my local grocery store to buy more instant meals that are probably going to give me cancer in five years if the bullshit articles my mother keeps sending me-”

Yennefer had told herself she wasn’t going to allow this wasn’t going to get any creepier than her misguided comment but she still had a gift code for that nice liquor store which conveniently had retailers popping up every six blocks everywhere for the last few months, especially in Thanned isle, only Gods knew why. “This bloody succubus of a twat that is my best friend has been forcing me to constantly use this cursed game by changing the password for my email and then Aretuza’s server and then-” Bingo. One text to Philippa and they had her IP address, with a mortified Triss already calling Jaskier since she was the only one that had managed to get a decent scholarship at that posh college.

This was her future wife who was about to jump from a bridge from the looks of her and they just had to do humanity a great service by saving her from herself and from sobriety.

“Can you believe that tosser? I am a lesbian! I spent my teenage years clad in flannel until my girlfriends staged an intervention kind of lesbian! Yes, Vilgefortz, I will sue you for harassment in the workplace and I will blacklist you. No, Vilgefortz, I don’t want to break quarantine to go on a date with you and I definitely do not want your disgusting cologne anywhere near my-” Tissaia’s head shot up, her doorbell was ringing and she pinched the bridge of her nose, reaching for a new, disposable, mask.

“You stay right there.” She threatened the girl, who had the most beautiful violet… Perhaps she really ought to let Coral get her a therapist. It rang again. “Gods-damn-it.” She thought.

Her plan was going marvellously. She would only have to sleep with a knife under her pillow for a few weeks for blackmailing Sabrina (Who honestly hadn’t the slightest talent to pass off plagiarism as a sudden stroke of genius in her final project without her aid.) into going along with this. The blonde was lighting the candles around the monitor without trying to burn her hair off and had given away her best bottle of cheap but still good wine for the cause. Thanks to Renfri and her frankly psychotic, owl obsessed, girlfriend she already knew what she would be replacing her trauma-ridden last name with! Splendid!

The brunette shut the door on Jaskier’s face after taking the brown paper bag from his hands, spraying the bottle of vodka inside it with so much disinfectant that it dripped down onto her carpet. Taking off her gloves and disposing of them, she grabbed a knife from the counter and ignoring the annoying blue light that came from the kitchen table, “Oh, shit. You’re soulmates. I’ll tell the rest of the girls we’re all fucked.” Tissaia cut off the upper part of the glass in one smooth hit, like Calanthe had taught her when the then teacher could still be considered fun by her groups of friends.

“Shut up, tiddybug!” She heard Yennefer sing-song.

Feeling like being crass the blue-eyed woman took a rather large swing directly from the bottle. Sitting back down, she sighed. Yennefer took a dignified sip from her wine; she could do balanced when her significant other to-be needed to let loose. “Did you like the bottle? It has good reviews from… wait a minute… apparently several alcoholics who don’t know what a budget is.”

Tissaia’s face paled. “I thought you weren’t a hacker.” The woman muttered. She didn’t fancy getting kidnapped and… No, no, no. Fucking Rita. What was the cost of moving, again? If she slept four hours less a day and split her cleaning time in two she could probably trade this house for Stregobor's in-

“I am not!” Yennefer cried. Bloody hell. “You just mentioned that you worked at Aretuza and-” Sabrina had probably started a group call and Phillipa was indeed hacking into her computer to save her arse. The Redanian was currently writing a script for her to follow. “Your username in the game is your surname. My friends and I tried to get into that school a few years back and I do remember that the Chancellor is a woman and that her last name is de Vries.” Her username wasn’t her last name, it was actually something that suggested she was an Ice Queen of the highest order. Queen Elsa from the movie Frozen would be intimidated kind of Ice Queen.

“Everyone is aware the highest-ranking members of the faculty live in chalets near the castle, pardon, the building.” True. According to Triss, that was a part of their contract that if unfulfilled prohibited them from working there ever again. To Yennefer that seemed borderline cruel, forcing them to be available at all hours like circus animals for juniors that didn’t deserve their spots.

“My best friend is a student there and she knows which one is your home because she wants to eventually be a teacher.” Partially true. Until that day came, Triss, like any rational individual, avoided the Chapter’s Village like the plague lingered inside, and wouldn’t be caught dead there unless she had to stop Sabrina from doing something stupid because of the anarchist phase she was going through. Jaskier was an acquaintance of hers of sorts because Triss had tutored his boyfriend Geralt in Biology and being daddy’s boy, he knew which one was Tissaia’s house because he had almost gotten expelled like fifteen times.

“I honestly just wanted to do something nice for you, you sounded like you needed it and… I know quarantine hasn’t been lifted once in Temeria since it all started.” Philippa wrote then that she would probably make for a decent actor without flashing her breasts to the audience every five minutes. She pursed her lips and replied in the mock post-it note to fuck off.

“I… I… Thank you. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed- I’m sorry, darling.” Her pale cheeks flushed at the term of endearment that slipped her tongue and Tissaia bowed down her head, red-painted nails caressing the glass bottle almost reverently. “Say, why don’t you tell me what your email address is and I send you my mobile via chat? The explosions in the background aren’t that, uhm, comforting to listen to when I’d much rather be hearing your voice.” Should she have looked up she would have seen the smile that threatened to split Yennefer’s face. “Only if you want to, of course! I- what am I even saying? Never mi-”

“No! Wait!” She placated. Sabrina squeezed her shoulder as she went to retrieve her phone charger, offering her a genuine smile. “I’d love to.”

“Okay.” Said Tissaia, an awed sound leaving her throat when blue finally meet with lilac. Gods, she was drop-dead gorgeous. Rita could have whichever bottle, all the liquor she wanted from the school’s cellar for indirectly enabling this.

Was one week a proper enough courting period to then buy the engagement ring? Or should she just have Philippa get her the best, costliest one from that jewellery eshop they all liked through some minor fraud that would take her like half an hour at most, today? “Good.” Yennefer de Vries had such a nice ring to it.

#yennaia #tissaia de vries #post: ask #ship: yennaia #writing*#sityiatwru*

20 notes · View notes

shadowywerewolfqueen · 4 years ago

Text

Rewind

For Suptober Day 12: Rewind

So, this one really got away from me but I just couldn’t help myself so have 4300 words of Destiel fluff.

“Dean, did you inventory your half of the annex like I asked you to?” Sam hollered as he walked down the stairs of the bunker, having just got back from a hunt with Eileen.

Dean, who had his feet propped up on the map table and a beer in his hand, scoffed at his brother’s question. “I’ll get to it. I thought you were going to be gone for another few days, anyways.”

Sam flashed a bitch face at his brother as he set his duffel on the table. “Dude, I’ve been gone for a week longer than expected.”

“Whatever. It’ll get it done, I promise,” Dean replied as he took a sip of his beer.

“Dammit Dean! Can’t you just do something when I ask you to do it? We agreed to split the annex in half and I’m already done with my half. There could be tons of new books and artifacts that could be really useful, but we won’t know because you won’t sort through the stuff,” Sam said angrily.

Dean slammed his bottle on the table and dropped his feet to the floor. “Alright, if it will get you to quit bitching, I’ll go start now. Geez, how Eileen puts up with you is beyond me.” Dean drank the last of his beer before walking out the war room.

“Stupid, pushy brother. Always has to be on my case,” Dean grumbled as he made his way down the maze of hallways to the annex. “Dude needs to have a romp in the sack with Eileen and then maybe he can be like Elsa and let it go.”

Dean flicked the light switch on and groaned. Half of the annex was completely reorganized and not a single thing was out of place. The other half was disorderly with boxes thrown around haphazardly and sheets covering most of the stuff. “Son of a bitch,” he growled as he walked over to the nearest box and opened it. A mouse scurried out and ran across the toe of Dean’s boot before disappearing under a shelf.

He spent the next five hours cleaning and had barely seemed to make a dent. He went to the kitchen to grab a beer, happy that he didn’t run into his brother. He did run into somebody else, though.

Dean was walking into the kitchen and looking at his phone, so he never saw the trench coat clad angel walking through the entryway. As he collided with Cas, his phone fell to the floor and Dean would have fallen on his ass had Cas not grabbed him by the arm.

“Dean, are you ok?” Cas asked, his hand still wrapped tightly around the hunter’s bicep.

“Yeah Cas, I’m good. Thanks for catching me,” Dean said with a light blush.

Cas finally dropped his hand and picked up Dean’s phone off the floor. He handed it back and said, “You’re welcome. So, what are you and Sam up to?”

Dean pocketed his phone and went to the fridge to grab a beer. “I don’t even know where Sam is at the moment. Probably taking one of his six hour bubble baths. I’m organizing my half of the annex so Sammy will quit bitching at me to do it. What are you doing here, I thought you were taking care of some important angel business?”

“Um, it’s all done,” Cas said quickly. “I figured I would come check on you and your brother since I’ve been gone for so long.” Cas glanced at Dean before immediately looking away.

Dean didn’t say anything about the angel acting kind of strange. He was used to Cas being a little odd. “We’re good actually. Just a few monster of the week cases but nothing major for once.”

Cas nodded once. “That’s good. Um, would you like any help with your organizing?”

Dean’s eyes went wide before he stammered, “Uh, n-no. I’m, I’m good. I promised Sam I’d do it on my own anyways. He did his side on his own, so it’s only fair for me to do it… on my own, you know?” Dean wanted to smack himself for how stupid he sounded.

The angel’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “Ok. I’ll just go to my room then. If you change your mind, let me know.” Cas left without another word.

Dean watched him go before scrubbing a hand down his face and muttering, “Fuck.”

The crush he had carried for Cas had long since turned into full blown romantic love. Dean had no idea how to handle such a concept. He was not a guy who met someone, fell in love, and settled down. He was a hunter who loved them and left them after a night or two. With Cas, he could never imagine sleeping with the angel once and then leaving him. Dean wanted the apple pie life, but he knew he could never have that. He was a hunter and not to mention a pretty lousy human. Why would an Angel of the Lord ever consider Dean for a partner?

As Dean fell deeper in love with Cas, the more flustered he got being around the angel. He could hardly be in Cas’ presence for more than a few minutes before he started imagining what Cas’ lips would feel like or what his hands running along Dean’s skin would feel like. Having normal conversations with Cas was becoming impossible and now he just sounded like a love-sick idiot every time he was around the man. Dean knew if he had accepted Cas’ offer to help organize, he wouldn’t have organized anything because he would spend the whole time staring at the angel.

Dean sighed as he walked back to the annex. He started going through boxes again, putting things in two separate piles. A pile for stuff to be kept and a pile for broken junk that needed to get thrown away. Dean was grabbing another box off the shelf when he stepped on something and lost his footing. He crashed to the ground and the box went flying. “Son of a bitch,” he cried.

He rolled his shoulders before getting to his knees and picking up the stuff that now littered the floor. He had an armful of junk and dumped it back in the box. He looked around and grabbed a small wooden brown case that he had missed. He looked at the case and could barely make out some writing under the layer of dust. He rubbed his finger across the top and read the writing.

“Rewind Buzzer. What the heck can it rewind?” Dean asked as he opened the box.

The inside of the case was lined with red velvet and a piece of paper was lying on top of whatever was in the box. Dean picked the paper up and read the sentence written on it. His eyes got big at what he read. He dropped the paper to the ground and stared at the buzzer nestled in the case.

The buzzer was a device that could rewind time. Dean grinned at the idea of what he could do with that ability. The amount of pranks he could pull on Sam were infinite. He picked the paper back up and turned it over, searching for how far back in time the buzzer went.

Dean looked up when he heard his name called. Cas walked into the annex, wearing a pair of sweats and one of Dean’s old band tees. It was a rarity to see him in anything but his suit and trench coat and Dean couldn’t help but stare. Cas was always handsome but looking at him now, Dean thought he was drop dead gorgeous.

“Dean, are you ok? You’re staring at me more than usual,” Cas said, a small smile on his face.

“Uh, yeah, Cas, I’m good,” Dean replied, his cheeks turning a bright red. “Just not used to seeing you without your suit and trench coat.” He sat the case on the shelf and moved to stand in front of the angel.

Cas picked at the hem of his shirt. “I can go change if you want. You’ve told me for years the bunker is my home and one is supposed to be comfortable in their home, correct?”

Dean’s face softened as he reached out and laid his hand on Cas’ shoulder. “Yeah, buddy you are. Please don’t go change on my account. You have every right to be comfortable here. This is your home.”

“Thanks Dean,” Cas said as he hesitantly pulled the hunter in for a hug.

“You’re welcome angel,” Dean replied as he wrapped his arms around Cas’ shoulders. He savored being wrapped in the angel’s tight embrace, knowing it would only last for a few seconds. He couldn’t help but take in a deep breath of Cas’ rich earthy scent before the man pulled away. Dean barely managed to not whimper at losing the feeling of warmth the angel offered.

Cas looked over Dean’s shoulder and his gaze landed on the box Dean had been holding. He walked over to investigate. He picked the box up and studied the buzzer before looking at Dean. “This is a very powerful object and is imbued with archangel grace.”

“What?” Dean asked with surprise, moving to stand next to Cas. “So, do you know how it works then?”

Cas nodded. “I do, it was once carefully guarded by Heaven because of how powerful it is. It has the ability to rewind time even if it can only go back five minutes.”

“Five minutes doesn’t seem like such a big deal,” Dean scoffed. It wouldn’t be very useful in pulling pranks on his little brother, that was for sure.

“No, it doesn’t but five minutes can make a huge difference in something such as a battle. This was created to help angels gain an upper hand over demons in the war we had with them,” Cas explained. “The next time I go to Heaven, I will take this with me. We can’t afford for it to fall into the wrong hands.”

Dean, who had been lost in thought about what he could do if he could rewind time, looked up at Cas. “What? Why? The bunker is perfectly safe! No demon can get in here with all the warding.”

Cas titled his head. “I don’t know Dean. Heaven is even safer than this when it comes to demons. Why do you care where it goes anyways?”

“Uh, I do-don’t,” Dean stammered. “You know what, never mind. I’ll just put it on the shelf so you know where it is when you go back to Heaven.”

Cas nodded. “Thank you Dean. Now, are you sure you don’t want help with cleaning this up?”

Dean quickly replied, “Yeah, I’m sure! Like I said earlier, if Sam can do his half on his own, it’s only fair I do my half on my own. Why don’t you go relax in the Dean Cave. Watch some Netflix and Chill.”

Cas looked at Dean with curiosity but only said, “Okay Dean. If you want to join me, you’re welcome to.”

“Yeah, maybe in a little bit. I should get some more organizing done,” Dean replied.

“Alright, see you later,” Cas said lowly before turning around and walking out the room.

As soon as he was gone, Dean grabbed the case off the shelf. While talking to Cas, he had come up with an idea. Even though he didn’t have much hope that Cas might actually like him, he finally had the guts to try. With the buzzer, he could tell Cas how he felt and then if the angel didn’t return the sentiment, Dean would just rewind time and deal with his broken heart by getting lost at the bottom of a bottle. He slipped the buzzer in his pocket before heading to the Dean Cave.

He walked in the room to see Cas sitting on the couch, Orange is the New Black playing on the TV. “Hey Cas,” Dean said softly.

Cas paused the show before looking over his shoulder at Dean. He smiled as he said, “Hello Dean. Change your mind?”

Dean rubbed at the back of his neck as he answered, “Uh, well there’s something I need to tell you.”

“Ok, what is it?”

“Ok, well, the thing is, I, uh, wanted to tell you about how I feel. About you that is,” Dean added.

Cas stood up and walked towards Dean. “What exactly do you want to tell me?”

“So, the thing is, you know you mean a lot to me… and to Sam. We both, you know, care about you,” Dean said awkwardly.

“I know. You said you both think of me as a brother,” Cas said, his lips curved up at the corners.

“Exactly, well… not exactly. You see Cas, I don’t really think of you as a brother,” Dean replied, he cheeks turning red.

Cas snapped his head back. “Oh.” His shoulders slumped and his eyes became glued to the floor. “I just forgot there’s something I need to do. Excuse me.” Cas pushed past Dean, hurrying towards the exit.

Dean turned around and grabbed Cas’ wrist. “Cas, wait!”

“You know, you could have told me the truth instead of lying to me for so long,” Cas cried as he ripped his wrist out of Dean’s grasp.

He fled down the hallway before Dean could say anything else. “Son of a bitch,” Dean shouted in frustration. “That was not how it was supposed to go.” Dean pulled the buzzer out of his pocket. “Alright, I really hope this damn thing works.”

He pressed the buzzer down and felt as if his stomach was being twisted from the inside out. He slammed his eyes shut and focused on trying not to puke. Once his stomach settled, he opened his eyes to find himself standing back in the annex. He blinked before looking at the buzzer. “Huh, guess it does work. Now, to try this again.”

Dean hurried to the Dean Cave. “Hey Cas, can I talk to you?”

Cas paused his show and looked over his shoulder. “Hello Dean, of course you can. What did you want to talk to me about?”

“I wanted to tell you how I feel… about you, that is,” Dean added, the tips of his ears warming up.

Cas stood to his feet and walked over to Dean. “About me? I don’t understand.”

Dean took a deep breath before saying, “Ok, so you know how I told you that you’re like a brother to me and Sam. Well, the truth is… I uh, well I, um, dammit.” Dean cursed himself for getting tongue tied. Why was it so hard to just tell Cas how he felt?

Cas squinted his eyes. “Dean, you’re not making any sense.”

“I know, I’m not. I’m trying to tell you how I don’t think of you as a brother,” Dean cried.

Just like last time, Cas became extremely upset and stormed out of the room.

“Dammit! No more talking about Cas as a brother,” Dean growled before pressing the button again.

Once he had gotten over the jarring feeling of travelling back in time, Dean headed to Cas for a third time. “Cas, I need to talk to you,” he said, harsher than he intended, but he was getting frustrated. It shouldn’t be this hard to tell the angel that Dean was in love with him.

Cas paused the show and said, “Ok, about what?”

Dean stood in front of the TV looking at Cas. “So, there’s something I’ve been hiding for a while and I decided it’s time that I tell you.”

Cas stood to his feet. “Ok, what is it?”

“The truth is, you’re important to me Cas, like really important,” Dean said in a rush.

Cas smiled. “Dean, I already know that. You’re important to me as well. You and Sam.”

Dean frowned. “I’m not talking about Sam right now, I’m talking about you and how I feel about you.”

“I already know how you feel about me Dean,” Cas said as he settled a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“You do?” Dean asked excitedly.

Cas nodded. “Of course, you told me how you and Sam consider me a brother. I know how high of an honor that is.”

“Ugh, why the hell does the whole thing about you being a brother keep coming up? That’s not how I feel about you anymore,” Dean hollered. For the third time in a row, he watched Cas walk out the room.

“Son of a bitch!”

Dean pressed the buzzer and then hurried towards the Dean Cave. “Cas I need to talk to you and it has nothing to do with you being like a brother to me and Sam.”

Cas paused the TV and looked at Dean with a head tilt. “Ok, that is random but oddly specific.”

“Whatever, I need to tell you something and I need you to listen,” Dean said, ignoring Cas’ comment.

“Well, I’m not stopping you.”

“So, here goes, the truth is Cas, I really really care about you a lot! Like a lot, a lot,” Dean said hurriedly.

Cas chuckled. “Dean, I care about you a lot as well. It’s not like I didn’t already know that. Did you just want to get out of cleaning the annex?”

“What? No! Cas, are you listening to me? I just said I like you a lot!” Dean was staring at the angel, pleading with his eyes for Cas to understand what he meant.

Cas just smiled and patted Dean on the shoulder. “I like you a lot too, Dean, which is a good thing since we spend so much time together. I’m gonna grab a beer, would you like one?”

Dean watched helplessly as Cas walked out the room. “You’ve got to be kidding me! How could he not get what I was saying? Am I going to have to spell it out for him?” Dean groaned and pressed the buzzer again.

At this point, he didn’t even notice the twisting in his stomach from the buzzer. This time his stomach was twisting from something else. He didn’t say “I love you” very often and apparently he was going to have to say it for Cas to understand what Dean was trying to tell him. Things just got a whole lot harder. He trudged to the Dean Cave, trying to build up his courage.

“Cas, can I talk to you?” Dean asked as he walked into the room.

“Of course,” Cas said as he paused the TV.

Dean huffed, “Alright, I’m just going to say it! Cas, I love yo- yo-yogurt.”

Cas snorted. “Oook. Thank you for telling me although I never would have thought you would like yogurt. That seems more like something Sam would like.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me! How do I keep screwing this up?” Dean shouted. He didn’t even wait for Cas to walk out the room before pulling the buzzer out and pressing the button.

Dean tried again and this time told Cas he loved yodeling. “Who the fuck even likes yodeling?” Dean screamed after pressing the buzzer again.

He tried again and screwed up, this time tripping over his feet and breaking his wrist as he ran into the Dean Cave. Another try, another failure after he got so tongue tied that he just walked out the room, his head hanging in shame. Three more rewinds, three more failed attempts at telling Cas the truth. Once Dean rewound time again, he sunk to the floor and dropped his head in his hands.

He sat there, feeling hopeless. He could slice a vamp’s head off their shoulders or put a silver bullet straight through a werewolf’s head but he couldn’t tell a dorky angel how he felt about him. “I’ve saved the fucking world multiple times, but whenever I try to tell Cas I love him, I screw up. Maybe, I’m just not meant to be with Cas and this is some crazy sign.”

“Dean?”

The hunter looked up at the soft whisper of his voice. His face paled when he saw Cas standing in the doorway. He scrambled to his feet, refusing to look at the angel. He didn’t look up until Cas reached out and gently forced his chin up. Green locked with blue.

“Did you mean that? What you just said,” Cas asked, fear evident in his voice.

Dean wanted to disagree, wanted to deny the words, but he had been trying to tell the truth to the angel for the past hour. He had just hoped it would be in a different way. “Yeah, Cas, it’s true,” Dean said with a sigh.

Cas’ thumb rubbed against Dean’s cheek. “Why do you sound so upset about that?”

Dean pulled away from Cas and took the buzzer out of his pocket. “I’ve been trying to tell you the truth for the past half hour and couldn’t manage to say it to your face!”

“Dean, you’ve been in the annex for the past hour. I know you said you didn’t want my help, but I couldn’t let you do this all on your own,” Cas said.

Dean shook his head. “No, I’ve been using the rewind buzzer to keep going back in time, but I kept screwing up every time I tried to tell you the truth.”

“How many times have you used the buzzer?”

Dean thought about it before embarrassingly admitting, “Eleven times.”

“And you’ve rewound back to this time every time and not let the new timeline play out?”

“Well, yeah because I kept screwing up,” Dean said angrily.

“Dean, because you kept coming back here, the time loop reset itself. The only way it wouldn’t have is if you had gone back in time and let the new future play out, then I wouldn’t have been sitting on the couch watching Netflix for the past hour,” Cas explained.

Dean shrugged his shoulders, “Not like it really matters. Eleven times trying to tell you how I feel about you and eleven times I fucked up.”

Cas stepped closer and reached out and entwined his fingers with Dean’s. “Twelfth time’s a charm.”

“I didn’t want you to find out that way though. I wanted to tell you to your face but I kept getting so nervous because I really didn’t think you would feel the same way,” Dean admitted, as he dropped his eyes, not looking at Cas.

“Dean, how could you possibly think I don’t feel the same way? Have you never noticed the way I look at you or the unbelievable amount of times I’ve told you we shared a more profound bond? I always take care of you first before healing Sam and I’ve never turned up a chance to work a case with you or join you at a diner for burgers and pie. Dean, I’ve loved you for years but I didn’t think you did,” Cas declared.

Dean looked up in awe. “You really mean all of that?”

“Mhm, every word of it.”

“But why, I’m just a human and a lousy one at that,” Dean said, self-deprecating as always.

“You are no such thing! You are the strongest, bravest man I know and there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for your family! You think so little of yourself because you’ve always made sure everybody else was taken care of. Well, now it’s my turn to take care of you. Please, let me,” Cas begged.

Dean looked into the eyes of the angel he loved. “I’m not strong enough to say no.”

“That’s ok, this one time you can be weak,” Cas whispered before pulling Dean into a kiss. Dean slid his hands into Cas' hair while the angel wrapped one hand around Dean’s waist and the other around the back of his neck.

Cas slid his lips against Dean’s lightly, just savoring the feel of the hunter’s lips against his. Dean, it seemed, wasn’t wanting gentle. Dean pressed his lips harder against Cas’ before slipping his tongue out and licking along the seam of Cas’ mouth. Cas opened immediately and Dean slid his tongue inside of the angel’s mouth. Their tongues met in the middle and slid against each other before moving to explore one another’s mouth. Cas angled his head, allowing him to seal his mouth even more tightly over Dean’s as their tongues continued to dance together.

Dean finally had to pull away, the need for air too great. He smirked when he saw that Cas was just as affected by the kiss. His hair was sticking up at all angles and his lips were swollen and red. Dean figured he didn’t look much better.

Cas looked affectionately at Dean. “Does that prove how I feel about you?”

Dean’s lips turned up at the corners. “Yeah Cas it does. I love you too.” He rubbed his nose against Cas before pressing another chaste kiss to the angel’s lips as his arms slid around Cas’ waist. He let his cheek rest on Cas’ shoulder, enjoying the warmth of being wrapped in the angel’s arms.

Cas smiled down at the hunter, reaching a hand up to run his fingers through Dean’s hair. “I love you so much Dean,” he whispered. He had been wrong, the bunker wasn’t home. This was home, being wrapped around the hunter he had loved for years.

“You know, you were right. That buzzer belongs in Heaven,” Dean whispered.

“No more rewinding time for you,” Cas said with a laugh.

Dean pressed his body even closer to Cas’. “Don’t need to rewind time anymore, I got what I want right here.” The annex didn’t get organized as they spent the rest of the day wrapped up in each other.

#suptober20 #My writing #my OTP #Destiel

80 notes · View notes

elsanna-shenanigans · 4 years ago

Text

April Contest Submission #5: Love and Sunflowers

Words: ca. 6,400 Setting: Canon Lemon: Lime CW: angst

22nd June 1844

Bare feet treaded lightly on the cool stone floor. Brown sturdy boots clutched in her left hand, a candle in her right, and a bag of carefully selected belongings slung over her shoulder, Anna split her concentration between her route and every little noise echoing in the dark, drafty castle. Only a few more hallways left before reaching the door leading outside and freedom.

The year stuck in sunny Corona, and away from her sister, had not been spent only attending tedious parties and making idle gossip. Practical connections and staying up to date on the news from Arendelle made it worth every mind numbing hour.

Anna ignored the itching caused by the rough cloth of her unfamiliar disguise, black cloak swinging about her feet, and hurried down the hall upon spotting her destination. A pause briefly at the door. This was it. Once she walked through this door there could be no going back. She reached out for the handle.

“Wait!”

No. Nonononono. Shit!

Plastering on an innocent smile, she turned back down the hall.

“Rapunzel. Eugene. Hi! How are you doing tonight?” Anna silently berated herself about forgetting how Rapunzel preferred to forego footwear whenever possible and Eugene’s habit of wearing the same type of silent shoes from his thieving days, making the pair’s movements naturally noiseless.

“One of the guards proposed to his sweetheart this afternoon.” Rapunzel whispered.

Huh?

“At least thirty guards are celebrating with him in the East Garden.”

Oh. Anna glared at the wooden door. If she wasn’t at the docks by midnight, the traveling theater troupe she bribed would leave without her.

“There’s another way out.”

“What?”

“There’s a secret exit leading to the docks in case of an invasion of the castle. I assume that you’re leaving with the Pazar Theater Troupe? If we hurry you shouldn’t miss them.”

“Why should I trust you?” The two had become quite close over the year but it wasn’t worth risking her reunion with Elsa.

They stood silently staring at each other. Even Eugene stayed quietly waiting and that man didn’t know how to shut up. Stealing a well guarded, expensive crown hadn’t even stopped him.

Finally, Rapunzel nodded and broke the silence.

“You and Elsa are in love and you’re off to get her.”

“W-what? She’s my sister. Don’t be absurd.” A step back. How does she know? I’ve been so careful.

“I’m guessing the two of you were caught and that’s why you were suddenly sent here.”

“I wouldn’t try to deny it if I were you. Rapunzel has a sixth sense for True Love.” Amusement colored Eugene’s words.

Understanding smiles from her two friends.

“On my birthday. Mother came to surprise me with breakfast in bed.”

“Ouch. That’s rough.” Smack! “What?”

“Be nice.”

“I am being nice. No one deserves a parent to walk in on them the morning after.”

“Ignore him. This way.”

Quickly, the three hurried through deserted hallways.

“This is the place. I just have to pull on this.” Rapunzel tugged on a wall sconce. It didn’t budge. “It must be stuck.”

“Actually, it’s this one.” Click. A section of wall moved slightly.

“Oh. Right. That one.” She hurried over to Eugene, opened the satchel perpetually at his side, and pulled out a bag making small metallic sounds. “Here.”

Anna opened it. Gold coins. Lots of gold coins. “I can’t accept this.”

“Please, take it.” A frown. “I wish we could do more.”

“You do?” Trust them. Swinging the bag off her back, Anna pulled out a shawl, a shoe, an envelope, and handed them over. “I was going to fake my death and hire someone to give this to Elsa…” Maybe this isn’t a good idea.

“I can tell everyone you’re sick in bed. It would give you a couple of days. Then I can put those into the water on the other side from the docks.”

“Don’t give Elsa the envelope until after the funeral.”

“After? That seems a little harsh.” Spoke up Eugene.

“Everyone needs to believe I’m dead or this won’t work.” She sat on the ground and slipped on sturdy leather boots.

“Are you going to Elsa?”

“Not right away. I need to do a few things first.” Anna finished tying her shoes and stood. “That money will help a lot.”

“Where are you headed?”

“It’s best if Anna doesn’t tell us.”

“Oh.” A watery smile. “Maybe one day we’ll meet up again and you can tell us who confessed first. Or your first kiss even.”

“That’s kind of the same story. I should get going.”

“Be safe.” Even Eugene hugged her this time.

“I will.” As she stole away to the docks, the memory of that evening years back returned.

* * * * *

It had been a wonderful day. The ceremony officially declaring Elsa the next in line to the throne went flawlessly, she had been the first one to dance with her sister, and to top it all off, Anna’s hands held three perfect sunflowers.

Knock. Knock. Knock-knock. Knock.

Hair down, cape removed, but still in the dress from the ceremony, Elsa answered the door with a smile.

“Wow.”

“What?” She bit her lower lip, a nervous habit Elsa had yet to break.

“You look stunning.”

“Oh.” Pink dusted her cheeks.

“I brought you these.” Oh god that blush is cute.

“Thank you. Please, come in.”

“It’s a bit late. Aren’t you tired?” Anna stepped into Elsa’s bedroom and closed the door.

“Yes, but I never got my second dance with you.” Two arms wrapped around her neck and automatically Anna’s hands rested on slim hips.

“Second dance?”

“I really should have had two dances with the most attractive woman in the room.”

An exquisite smile.

Instinct took over and Anna leaned in, pressing her lips to Elsa’s startled cool ones.

Damn it! What am I doing? I didn’t even ask first! Just as Anna started to step back, fully prepared for a well deserved slap, slender arms tightened and pulled her closer.

After that, whenever possible, Anna would give her sister sunflowers.

* * * * *

13 October 1845

Anna shivered and pulled the black woolen cloak closer, eyes glued to the shore. It would have been warmer in her cabin but nervous excitement propelled her out into the night and to the starboard railing.

“Ingrid,” heavy footsteps stopped by her side, “we’ll reach Arendelle’s capital in about an hour.”

“Thank you, Eric.” A fake name to go with her fake story. Guilt gnawed at her again for lying to him but she pushed those feelings down. Nothing would stop her from seeing Elsa again. Years of planning, years of waiting, years of longing, all came down to this single night.

“Hey,” he placed a hand on her shoulder, Eric’s deep voice reassuring in the midst of her swirling fears. “You’ll see her soon. It will work out.”

“Yes.” Anna turned her head and smiled gratefully at her friend. “Thank you for doing this.”

“You’re welcome. Are you sure you won’t-“

“I’m not going to take my gun with me.” Argument number three over this. “If I get caught in the castle it will be a whole lot harder to convince them I’m harmless with a gun at my hip.” Besides, it had been long enough since Anna lived in Arendelle that she couldn’t be sure all the guards would recognize her immediately.

Eric threw up his hands in displeasure. “Fine. I’m going to check in with the crew.”

Eyes turned back to the land, Anna clutched at the locket around her neck and eagerly waited for the first sight of her former home. Tendrils of a bittersweet memory enveloped her.

* * * * *

11:57pm.

Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Turn. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Turn. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Turn.

Still 11:57pm.

If time moved any slower it would be going backwards.

Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Turn. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Turn. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Turn.

11:58pm.

Anna glared at the clock above her fireplace.

Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Turn. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Turn. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Turn.

How could the last five minutes before midnight take this long?

Diiing… Diiing…Diiing…

Midnight! Finally!

Knock. Kno-

Far too impatient to let Elsa finish their special knock, Anna flung open the door and pulled her startled sister into her bedroom.

“Patience is a virtue.” An amused smile.

“No, it isn’t.”

Tinkling laughter.

“Happy birthday, Anna.” Tender lips brushed against hers.

Taking the plate and small square box from Elsa, setting them aside on the small table by her door, Anna took three steps forward and pinned the warm body before hers against the closed bedroom door.

“Anna-“

She didn’t bother easing into a kiss; tongue eagerly explored the mouth under hers. Softness and heat sent Anna’s head spinning.

“Y-your cake.”

“Hmm.” Another intense kiss.

“C-cake.”

“Right.” Anna stepped back on shaky legs, not at all certain how long they’d hold her up if they continued.

Looking no more steady than her, Elsa picked up the plate and box before walking over to the bed to sit.

Anna followed her with a smile. Twelve years ago a ten year old Elsa surprised her at midnight with a small round yellow cake topped with berries and a birthday present. Every year Anna returned from school before her birthday to help with the spring celebration and, without fail, Elsa would show up at midnight with a small cake she baked herself and a gift.

They sat side-by-side on the bed feeding each other and trading kisses.

Anna’s resolve broke.

She took the plate and set it on her bedside table. Tugging Elsa over to straddle her lap, Anna wasted no time in thoroughly kissing the delectable mouth of her love. Lips burned and liquid fire flowed through her veins.

Tiny nips and small licks down a pale smooth throat.

“Ah!” The body in her arms quivered.

Taking one pale hand in her own, she kissed down Elsa’s palm gently to her wrist, placing a lingering kiss. Repeating the actions to the other hand, Anna returned to kissing the now flushed neck before her.

“Don’t you,” gasp, “don’t you want to o-open,” unsteady hands slipped to her shoulders, “your gift?”

“Isn’t that what I’m doing?” A smile.

Whimper.

Elsa pressed her down to the bed.

* * * * *

Crash!

“Anna! What did you do?!”

Huh? Who’s shouting? Exhaustion threaten to pull Anna back under. It wasn’t until the sun began to rise over the horizon that she and Elsa fell into an exhausted, sweaty heap. Now she just wanted to sleep holding her lover.

Suddenly, the body in her arms disappeared and Anna’s sleepy mind couldn’t figure out why.

“Mama, stop!”

“No, Elsa. You are coming with me!”

Mama?

“No! Please let go!”

Adrenaline poured into her system and Anna sat up to see a struggling Elsa, now clad in Anna’s robe, being pulled across the room by their Mama.

“Wait!”

“Please let me go!” More struggling.

Panic made her clumsy and she fell out of bed in a tangle of sheets.

“Anna! Anna!”

She looked up from the floor to see Elsa’s distraught face disappear through her bedroom door.

“No!”

Click.

Anna knew what that sound meant but still she clutched the bedsheets around her nude frame and rushed to the door, nearly tripping over a breakfast tray of broken dishes and spilled food.

Muffled shouts of Elsa calling for her.

Locked.

* * * * *

Out of all the scenarios imagined, being caught in bed with Elsa after their first night together hadn’t been one of them. Only Gerda ever woke her up. Months were spent hinting she knew about them before getting fed up and outright stating support.

Once the muffled yells faded completely, Anna had dressed hurriedly, intending to find a way to Elsa.

Banging on the door yielded nothing.

Lock picking was a skill not taught in her fancy London school.

Even tied together, the sheets wouldn’t reach the ground - years ago her parents moved her to this room after the third time patrolling guards found little seven year old Anna playing in the garden at midnight.

Pacing the room again, a small box with a red ribbon tied around it caught her eye.

Elsa’s gift.

I forgot. It’s my birthday.

On a piece of green velvet lay a crystal locket. No, an ice locket. Thumbnail caught the latch. Blonde and red hair, mixed together, wove into a tiny delicate braid. Raised letters peeked behind it.

Forever.

* * * * *

Perhaps an hour after opening the gift, her parents entered with two servants, each hauling a large chest. A guard could be seen stationed just outside the door blocking any attempt of escape.

They informed Anna she would be sent to Corona as their representative and then France or the Southern Isles. Not a foot would be placed anywhere in Arendelle until a suitable suitor was found and Elsa wed. Tears fell from all three of them.

No amount of begging changed their minds and explaining how much she loved Elsa only cemented their resolve.

They gave her two hours to pack, refused her request to see her sister, and left her room.

She did not see them again.

Anna clutched the locket tighter, the ice biting into her palm

Wait just a little bit longer, My Love. Just a little bit longer.

* * * * *

Anna pressed herself against the cool stone of the wall surrounding Arendelle Castle and waited until the sound of her breathing no longer drowned out the rhythmic sound of the fjord’s waves striking the rocks at her feet. It took three tries before the grappling hook found a sturdy purchase at the top of the wall.

Count to sixty, listen for shouts of alarm from the guards, count to sixty again, deep breath, now begin the slow climb up.

Months of training helped but, still, by the time she reached the top of the wall her arms ached and her breaths were strained. In the inky darkness of the moonless night, Anna relied mostly on touch to free her grappling hook before pulling up the rope. On silent cat feet she walked up the pitched incline, peeked over, and waited for the guard patrolling the grounds to pass. The moment her feet touched soft dirt, she tugged on the second rope attached to the point of the hook and freed it from the wall.

That took too much time.

An awkward crouching run with the hook and rope clutched in her arms. Pure luck had Anna safely behind neatly trimmed bushes when another patrolling guard rounded the corner into that section of garden.

Quietly tuck the grappling hook back into the bag slung over her back, wait patiently for another guard to pass by, dash the short distance to a particular corner of the castle, wait, again, for another guard to pass, then finally use the imperfections in this section of stone to climb up to a pitched bit of roof.

Being so close to her destination, Anna’s heart sped up and she hurried along the roof. One wrong step on a loose tile and she barely kept herself from rolling off. An alarmed exclamation from a guard had Anna scrambling into a shadowy section under a balcony and tucking herself into her black cloak.

“Did you hear that?”

“This is the third ‘suspicious sound’ you’ve heard tonight.”

“But I heard a thud.”

“The only thud you heard is from your hangover. Ugh. Why did I get stuck with you tonight?”

Footsteps.

“Hey! I was celebrating…”

The two guards bickered and their voices faded into the distance.

Too close. Slow down or you’ll be caught.

It took only a few more minutes of careful steps and climbing before Anna, exhausted and sweating, pulled herself up onto the stone balcony of her destination. The need to look through the large glass doors surpassed the desire to rest and catch her breath.

Elsa.

There sat her beautiful sister at her desk writing in what appeared to be a journal. Relieved tears threatened to fall and Anna struggled to keep them at bay.

Two and a half years.

They had been apart for two and a half years and Anna could only dazedly stare at Elsa’s elegant beauty; the braid wrapped around her head securely holding the twinkling crown of the Royal Princess, the bite of her lower lip in concentration, the…

Anna blinked in surprise.

Wrapped around her sister’s shoulders, the familiar dark green shawl, believed lost in her sudden departure, had been Anna’s favorite because Elsa had gifted it on her sixteenth birthday. Eyes finally traveled around the lamp lit room.

On the far wall a much smaller replica of the Joan of Arc painting from the portrait gallery, the worn tea table with two matching chairs from her room, the blanket usually found in the library where they’d cuddle under while reading now draped across the bed, even the plate sporting a pattern of swirling green vines upon which rested a half finished scone had been part of the set Anna usually snagged from the kitchen for their midnight snacks. Bits and pieces of their life together lay peppered the room, surrounding her concentrating sister.

Desperately through her shirt, Anna’s left hand clutched at her locket as the wisps of hope she clung to solidified into a raging inferno.

She lifted a trembling hand to knock.

* * * * *

Elsa sighed.

The constant struggle of each day without Anna by her side wore her down and this week even more so. Every night at dinner her parents broached the subject of her needing to start receiving potential suitors. Her skin crawled at the thought but Elsa didn’t know how much longer she could stall. Maybe six months or a year? Being the only one still in full mourning dress over her sister’s ‘death’ long after etiquette dictated switching to wearing colors once again paired with a black ribbon around her arm, now caused suspicious whispers about her mental stability and murmurs about how close they had really been.

Leaning back with a sigh, Elsa waited for the ink to dry before closing the blue leather journal and pulling the green shawl tighter about her shoulders.

Anna, I miss you so much.

Every night for the past year and a half to keep her hopes alive, from her personal drawer, Elsa pulled out an envelope and let the memory flow.

* * * * *

Gone.

Never again that breathtaking smile directed at her. Never again feel those strong arms hold her. Never again hear ‘I love you’ whispered intimately into her ear. Never again get to say ‘I love you too.’

Everything gone.

Tears flowed in a relentless torrent all week; now on the day of Anna’s funeral her eyes were dry and numbness enveloped her. Even her magic, normally buzzing like a beehive under her skin, stilled to a weeping trickle.

The line of guests waiting to offer their condolences to her and her parents dwindled down steadily. Only a few dozen people left before Elsa could flee to the privacy of her room. She needed to be out of this church with its empty casket and solemn ceremonies.

Another wooden ‘thank you for being here’ and Elsa wondered if she really had to stay to the end.

Elsa stiffened.

Princess Rapunzel and Prince Eugene stepped forward. Her sister had been left in their care and they failed.

Without warning, the other princess wrapped her slender arms around Elsa in a hug.

“Anna’s alive.” Whispered so low, at first Elsa questioned if she heard it at all. Rapunzel continued. “After this, come to our room and we’ll tell you everything.”

Shock replaced the anger.

Rapunzel stepped back and the two royals moved to greet her parents.

The moment the last guest stepped towards her parents Elsa sprinted out of church, dignity be damned.

Princesses don’t run. Princesses don’t ignore greetings from guests. Princesses don’t use servant passages. This princess did. Anything to get to Corona’s room faster.

This had better not be some insipid ‘she lives in you’ sympathy. Just thinking it might be the case set Elsa’s temper sparking.

Time to find out.

Knock. Knock.

“Princess Elsa, please come in.”

“You said my sister is alive.” Any patients for subtlety long gone.

“Yes, Eugene and I helped her escape Corona.”

A wide, graceful sweeping wave of Elsa’s arm. Ice two inches thick covered the door and window. They no longer risked being interrupted or heard.

Princess Rapunzel didn’t flinch though.

“Ice? She can make ice? Oh god. Is it really ice?” It seemed she broke Prince Eugene.

“Tell me everything. Please.” Hope blossomed in her chest.

“Three nights before her things were found, Eugene and I helped Anna escape the castle undetected. We don’t know where she is now but she didn’t drown two weeks ago.”

Could this woman Elsa barely knew be telling the truth?

“We stalled everyone by saying Anna was sick in bed and when my parents started to really worry about her, I planted the shoe and shawl on the shore.” A steady, unwavering gaze, not a hint of deceit.

“It is ice. Oh no, this bad. This is really, really bad. Ice.”

They both ignored the sputtering.

“Anna gave me this the night she left.” Worn about the edges and sealed with a bit of red wax, Rapunzel held out an envelope.

Shaking hands took it.

Elsa stared at the paper.

This could be a goodbye, a letter filled with sorrow and regrets.

“Anna still loves you.”

Having forgotten she wasn’t alone, Elsa nearly dropped the paper in her hands.

How much does she know?

“She told us what happened, that you two were caught.”

Fear filled her until she saw Rapunzel smile reassuringly.

She opened the envelope carefully and pulled out a single piece of paper.

Tears fell.

A watercolor of a sunflower.

* * * * *

Leaning over to replace the precious envelope with the watercolor tucked safely inside, the silver of the salt print caught her eye.

How many people could point to an exact moment and say ‘then, right then is when I knew I was in love with her.’

* * * * *

Elsa paced waiting for the approaching ship to dock having used the hidden door in the west wall to arrive early. It would be Anna’s last trip back to Arendelle before having to focus on her studies at her prestigious school in London and being separated for eight months instead of five. But her sister would be here for two weeks, just in time for the harvest celebration in three days.

More pacing.

“Princess Elsa, please step back. The ship will be docking soon.”

“Thank you, Radley.”

A reminder to herself that princesses did not bounce on their toes.

The moment the walkway rested on the dock Anna rushed down into her waiting arms.

“Elsa!”

Arms wrapped around her waist and the world spun as Anna twirled her around.

“Anna! Put me down!” Laughter took any sting there might have been in the admonishment.

“You’re not officially the crowned princess yet, sis.” One more spin and Anna set her down.

“I missed you.” Elsa tightened her hold and hugged her sister, eyes closing at the comforting rose scent from Anna’s preferred soap.

“I missed you, too.”

They stayed like that, arms wrapped around each other as sailors walked around them carrying crates filled with a variety of goods, having years ago become used to this sight.

Finally, reluctantly, Elsa stepped out of Anna’s arms and got a chance to really look at her sister. Gone were the rounded cheeks and child-like softness, now a bit leaner, her sister looked older and even more beautiful. The urge to kiss those soft pink lips startled Elsa.

“You-you’ve gotten stronger.” Ignore it. She’s your sister. You just missed her, that’s all. Even her internal argument sounded weak.

“It’s all that horseback riding they have me do.” Arms linked together, Anna tugged her in the direction of the castle. “Where’s Mama and Papa?”

“They’re busy with the final plans for Thursday. We’ll have dinner with them tonight.” It didn’t mean anything.

“Guess that means I get you all to myself today.” A bright, elated smile.

“Y-yes.” Her heart skipped a beat.

* * * * *

In the three days since Anna’s return, there had been thirteen times Elsa stopped herself from leaning over to kiss her sister. She counted.

Stop it.

Their parents gave the opening speech several hours ago and even now, were still surrounded by a crowed of people vying to meet the monarchs. She and Anna had split up to greet guests and solve the problems that always cropped up on the first day. That was how Elsa found herself talking with the Count of Ceovalon. The tall gray haired gentleman had to be at least twenty years older than her Papa though his strong frame and deep green eyes made the Count popular among the ladies in court.

“Lovely day.”

“Yes, it is. We were lucky the rain will hold off for a few more days.” A pleasant smile and Elsa wondered why Count Kadri stopped her.

“Almost as if by magic.” He laughed.

“Almost.” Not her magic. Even if Elsa could control the weather, their family had been extremely careful to keep the knowledge of it secret and she would have been forbidden from using it.

Silence.

Elsa waited patiently.

“Your sister looks to be enjoying herself.”

“Yes.” Her social butterfly thrived at parties.

“Is Princess Anna receiving suitors yet?”

“My sister is only seventeen.” It took a great deal of effort to keep the agitation out of her voice.

“Never too early to start.” The condescending smile had Elsa reconsidering the resolve to keep her ice powers secret.

“Prince Nicolau‘s own betrothal happened when he turned twelve.” He continued obliviously. “House Ceovalon would make an advantageous ally to the crown.”

Blink.

He can’t seriously be suggesting-

“Excuse me, Count Kadri.” Anna wrapped an arm around her waist. “Mind if I steal my sister? I haven’t had a chance to dance with her and I love this waltz.” Tugging in the direction of the couples dancing.

“Of course, Princess Anna.” He frowned slightly before dipping into a deep bow.

“Thanks!”

Taking the lead position, Anna deftly joined the group of dancers dancers.

“Elsa, is something wrong?” The whispered question inaudible to those around them.

A sigh.

“Tell me? Please?”

“He was inquiring if you were receiving suitors.”

“Huh?”

“I believe…” Another sigh. Beautiful, smart, the personification of sunshine, and a princess. Elsa should have expected this. “I believe he is interested in calling on you.”

“Count Kadri?”

Nod.

“But I don’t even know him.”

Nod.

“He’s older than Papa.”

Nod.

“And he’s not-“ Anna stopped mid-sentence and turned bright red alarmingly fast.

“He’s not…what?” Curious at what her sister meant to say.

“He’s… ummm… he’s not even that handsome.” The blush deepened. Anna wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“I guess he isn’t.” Why is she lying? ‘He’s not’ what?

“Are you… umm…” even with being so close the words were nearly lost to the music, “interested… in him?”

“Absolutely not!”

“Good.” The bounce in Anna’s step returned. “Enough about him. How has your day gone?”

For the rest of the song they laughed, compared disasters they averted, and returned greetings from couples dancing by. All too soon the song began to wind down. A sudden shift in movement and Elsa found herself being dipped low by a laughing Anna.

Teal eyes twinkled merrily, locks of copper hair fell gently at her temple, each adorable freckle dotting her sister’s face lit by sunshine, and the urge to never leave these strong arms filled Elsa completely.

Oh.

It finally slid into place. The nervousness, the racing heart, the lack of concentration, the need to touch.

Anna pulled her back upright and pressed their foreheads together. “Thank you for the dance.”

Fourteen.

* * * * *

This photograph had been shot the next day. Photography finally came to Arendelle and the new shop bustled with customers. After they took their family portrait, Anna requested to have one done of just the two of them. Their parents loved the idea and requested a copy for themselves. Dark smudges on her cheeks could be explained away as a defect in the plate’s exposure but Elsa knew was because of the deep blush she sported from having Anna’s arm wrapped around her waist.

Two weeks after that morning her mother took the photograph away.

For her own good.

Then four days later, after setting down the tray for her nightly tea, Gerda pulled a thick piece of paper out of her apron pocket. The gray haired woman had gone to town and obtained a new copy of the salt print her mother had confiscated. Without Gerda’s support and daily reminders of Anna’s love, being the only other person in the castle who knew she lived, over the years Elsa might have succumbed to her parents’ views.

Her personal journals, the new salt print, and all the letters Anna wrote to her from school, now resided in a drawer only she could open.

Tears finally fell.

Why hadn’t she remembered to lock the damn door? Or gone back to her own room instead of falling asleep? Anything that would have kept them from being separated.

Knock. Knock. Knock-knock. Knock.

Elsa’s head turned to the the balcony door.

Oh. I fell asleep at my desk again. I see Anna. But why is she on the balcony?

These dreams normally started with her sister sweeping into her room chatting nonstop but no matter how much Elsa wished differently, the instant they touched Anna would disappear and she’d wake up in tears.

The figure of Anna entered.

Black did not suit her little ray of sunshine.

Frowning, Elsa stood. That scar on her left cheek didn’t belong there, Anna never once wore all black in her life, and where was the chatter?

This different Anna removed her cloak and bag.

Step.

Calloused fingers reached out.

No, please don’t. I don’t want you to disappear.

They caressed her cheek.

Elsa’s knees buckled.

Strong arms caught her and Anna, this real, solid Anna, held her.

“You’re here. You’re really here.” Every moment of every day she wished for this. She surged forward, soaking in the much missed warmth of her sister.

“I’m here.”

They stayed wrapped up in each other, the sound of the ticking clock echoing on the room.

“Run away with me.”

“What?”

“Mother and father won’t let me come back. We can escape, together, go far away to a place that never heard of the sisters from Arendelle.” Hands clasped tightly to hers.

The start of a hesitant nod.

“Say it…” Anna’s pleading teal eyes met hers, “out loud.”

Could she leave? Abandon all her responsibilities? Forever say goodbye to the people she loved?

Yes.

“Take me with you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” No more second guessing. There were many things she could live without, Anna was not one of them.

“Wait right here.” Back across the room to pick up her bag.

Without Anna’s arms around her, shaky knees gave out and she collapsed onto her chair.

“There’s clothes in the bag and I have extras for you on the ship. Put whatever you wish to bring in the bag.”

Ship? What ship?

It didn’t take long to pack her things snugly, hoping nothing would move and give them away with a noise.

Before changing, she removed the crown she had once been so proud to wear and set it on her desk.

Wave of her hand and ice covered her bedroom door. That should slow things down.

Off went the black silk mourning dress and Elsa slipped on the coarse black shirt and trousers. Uncomfortable shifting from foot to foot from the unfamiliar feel of cloth surrounding her legs distracted her enough to miss Anna’s question.

“What did you say?”

“Are you ready?”

A deep, steadying breath. This was it. Her life could start again.

“Yes, I’m ready.”

“Then let’s get this on.” Anna held out a black cloak identical to her own. “Remember to keep the hood up. Even without a moon tonight, your hair will stand out.”

“Right.” Flick of her fingers and all the lanterns extinguished in her room.

“I love it when you do that.”

Out to the balcony they stepped.

“How are we getting out of Arendelle?”

“I have a boat hidden at the docks. We’ll row out to Eric’s ship and sail to Liverpool.”

“The docks?”

“Best place to hide a boat is with other boats.”

The secret door opened up near the docks. Rushing back into the dark room, Elsa grabbed the key from her desk and returned.

“There’s a hidden door in the west wall near the docks. Gerda gave me the key to it after you left.”

“That will certainly be easier than climbing the outer wall.” Grappling hook in hand, Anna hooked it on the balcony railing.

“We won’t need that.”

Both hands flung forward and a spiral staircase out ice appeared.

“I’ve been practicing.”

* * * * *

Arendelle Castle grew smaller and candles were snuffed out as the residents went to bed. Never again would the place she grew up, fell in love, found support and condemnation in equal measures, be her home.

“It’s not too late to turn back.” They bobbed in the water.

“No.” Elsa turned back around, facing the future she wanted. “Keep going.”

Anna went back to rowing.

One last pull of the oars and they rounded the rocky outcropping.

Ahead, floating in the inky dark waters where the Dark Sea met the fjord, a ship lit up with torches as sailors lined the railing. Cheers erupted at the sight of their little boat.

* * * * *

Anna held out a hand and helped her over the ship’s railing. Never did she want to climb a rope ladder again. Twice she nearly lost her grip.

At the helm stood a tall man with dark brown hair. His blue eyes widened in recognition.

“You didn’t mention your friend Eric was Prince Eric of Tirulia.” This could be a problem.

“I didn’t think I needed to. Arendelle never had much to do with the Kingdom of Tirulia.”

“I was Arendelle’s representative at his and Princess Ariel’s wedding while you were in Corona.”

“Uh oh.”

“Welcome to my ship, Helga. May I steal Ingrid for a minute?” Prince Eric smiled tightly. He didn’t wait before grabbing Anna’s arm and dragging her to an empty spot by the railing.

Shouts from the crew and lapping of water drowned out any chance of Elsa hearing the argument.

She watched Anna nod and Prince Eric walk back.

“Will you follow me, please?” Once they were in the sparsely furnished captain’s quarters he turned to her.

“Princess Elsa, are you unharmed?”

“Of course.” Why does he believe Anna would hurt me?

“I’m sorry. Ingrid did not tell me she intended to kidnap the Crowned Princess.”

Maybe if she revealed everything Elsa could salvage this situation.

“Anna did not kidnap me.”

“Who?”

“The woman you know as Ingrid is my sister Princess Anna of Arendelle and she did not kidnap me.”

Blue eyes bulged in shock.

Without a word he marched back to the door and pulled a lingering Anna inside.

“Princess Elsa of Arendelle is your sister?! You said we were rescuing your True Love.”

“She did.” If they were going to be thrown off the boat, it would be for the truth. Elsa moved to stand next to Anna and twined their fingers together.

“But… you’re sisters.”

“Yes.” This time Anna spoke up.

Eyes darted back and forth.

A big sigh and Prince Eric shifted uncomfortably.

“Stow your things, we depart momentarily.” Head down, he spoke to the floorboards. “We’ll reach Liverpool in three days.” He turned to the door.

“Eric, thank you,” Anna called out.

“We promised to help and I owe you.” He left and began shouting orders to set sail.

“He owes you?”

“Ariel’s horse spooked and I happened to be nearby to stop it. Good thing too, they never would have made it over that gorge.” A tug on their joined hands. “Let’s get to my cabin. It’s small but I have it to myself.”

* * * * *

Stepping off the dock in Liverpool, the smell of smoke, human waste, and rotting fish nearly made Elsa lose her breakfast.

“You’ll get used to the smell.” Prince Eric smirked.

What a horrible thought.

“Thank you for everything.”

“You’re welcome. Do you have your gun?”

“It’s in my bag.”

He glared.

“I can’t exactly go walking around Liverpool with it on my hip, can I?”

Grumbles sounded suspiciously like ‘why not.’

“Please stay safe.”

“You too, Eric.”

They watched him return to his ship.

* * * * *

One spirited negotiation with the tavern owner and Anna triumphantly opened the door to their small, relatively clean room.

“Our home for the next three days, darling.” Anna flung herself across the bed.

“And after this?”

“The RMS Britannia. It leaves in three days for Halifax then Boston.”

“We’re going to America?” Elsa sat beside her lounging sister.

“Or Canada. We can choose when we purchase the tickets. Thirty-five guineas each is a bit expensive but-.”

“It’s incredibly expensive.”

“But,” Anna sat up and continued on, “it will get us across the Atlantic Ocean in fourteen days.”

“Fourteen days? How is that possible?”

“It’s one of those new steam ships. Faster we get there, the faster we can disappear.”

A nod. Elsa pulled her bag over onto her lap and removed a plain wooden box.

“We can sell these for the tickets.” Flipping of the lid revealed it full of expensive jewels.

Anna’s mouth fell open.

“I left our family heirlooms and those belonging to Arendelle back in my room.”

“What are these then?” She picked up an unfamiliar piece and frowned.

“Gifts from princes and noblemen trying to curry my favor.”

Snort. “These certainly wouldn’t have worked.”

“No.” Elsa pressed a kiss to Anna’s lips. “I prefer sunflowers.”

“Mmmm.” Another kiss. And another. And another. “Yes, well… ummm…” Unfocused eyes blinked. “We are fine on funds. Rapunzel made sure of that. Then I lived with Eric and Ariel for a year and added to it.” More distracting kisses. “Th-this is… umm.. actually perfect. I’ll pose as your traveling companion-“

“We can plan all this tomorrow.” Three days in a cabin without a lock didn’t leave them much privacy for anything beyond kissing and they didn’t dare chance her magic being discovered.

“But-“

“Tomorrow.” Today would be for catching up on lost time.

#elsanna #submission #April 2021 contest #prompt: break #lime

15 notes · View notes

amphtaminedreams · 4 years ago

Text

Farewell to Spooky Season, AHS Style: Lookbook no.12

Hi to anyone reading,

Happy belated Halloween!

I capitalise it because if I'm gonna recognise any day as sacred, it’s the spookiest one of the year! Halloween 2020 obviously hasn’t been as exciting as usual, parties and club nights being banned has meant there’s been far less opportunities to dress up, but I still managed to get out for the night before they announced the upcoming second lockdown and do a couple of spooky movie nights (and carve a pumpkin!)!

I originally intended for this lookbook to be last minute halloween costume inspo but I was lazy and didn’t manage to get it out on time-a lot of these looks minus the makeup and maybe an accessory or two could work on any day or night out so I thought I’d go ahead and post it now anyway. Celebrating the fashion moments of American Horror Story is something I’ve wanted to do for a while; it’s probably not the first show you’d think of for sartorial inspiration but Mr. Ryan Murphy has fucking fantastic taste in stylists and the first five seasons of AHS in particular, which I’ll be focussing on in this post, have given us SO many amazing looks. The man may be guilty of many things-subjecting us to the character of Will Schuester, trying to turn Richard Ramirez into a thirst trap, embarrassing everyone who raved about how good Scream Queens was when he wrote season 2-but costume related laziness is not one of them. We see more consistency in a Ryan Murphy character’s wardrobe than we do in their story arcs and I respect that because honestly, as much as I love joining in when it comes to ripping into his ability to cohesively bring an AHS season to a close when it airs, I’d probably be the same; if you put Lady Gaga in front of me and told me to write her lines I’d probably end up getting overly invested in what her character was going to be wearing in the scene too.

So! Enough Ryan Murphy bashing from me! I’ll get on with it! Starting with 3 season 1 inspired looks:

Murder House: Elizabeth Short, Tate Langdon and Violet Harmon

-striped jumper from caitlinlark on Depop, kick flare jeans from ellagray-

When it comes to reflecting on season 1 of American Horror Story, all I can say do is thank the internet overlords that Tumblr has moved on from the romanticising school shooters and wearing normal people scare me tops phase to instead collectively taking the piss out of the “GO AWAY, TATE!”, “YOU’RE ALL THAT I WANTTT! YOU’RE ALL THAT I HAVEEE!” exchange.

In terms of fashion *moments*, whilst season 1 doesn’t stand out as much as the seasons that come after, Violet and Tate’s wardrobes did give birth to a bit of a 90s grunge renaissance with their oversized knits and faded jeans and layering of textures. It did also give us good costumes in the form of Alexandra Breckenridge’s Moira O’Hara and Mena Suvari’s portrayal of the Black Dahlia, Elizabeth Short; unfortunately, I didn’t have a slutty maid costume lying around so I did the best I could at giving the outfit Elizabeth wears when she makes that fateful visit to the Murder House a modern, more party appropriate update.

In terms of season rankings, Murder House isn’t my favourite. It starts off really great but lulls a bit towards the end and I could never get behind Violet and Tate as a couple because you know, one of them is a school shooter who sexually assaults the other’s mum, and that’s a hurdle that I think most couples might struggle to get over irl. That being said, it was the season that started it all and showcased some of the most innovative writing and directing on TV, and it opened up a spot for horror on primetime television which as far as I know was kind of unheard of before then. Back when I first watched it, I had no idea what to expect not only because I’d never seen horror in a serial format but also because it seemed to be able to get away with the kind of storylines you’d expect network executives to fire people over. It introduced us to Jessica Lange and Sarah Paulson and Evan Peters and Denis O’Hare who would go on to make the show what it is today and more importantly, through Jessica’s glorious portrayal of Constance Langdon, provide us with an endlessly versatile meme format for this trying time.

Asylum: ‘60s Lana Winters, ‘70s Lana Winters, and Sister Mary Eunice McKee

-afghan coat from louisemarcella on Depop, red AA skater dress from julietramage, pink gingham co-ord from zshamim-

I think we can all agree: Asylum would’ve been a perfect series of television if it wasn’t for the completely unnecessary alien storyline. Like, I get that they fit in with the whole good vs. evil theme as a kind of non-biblical alternative to the idea of a higher, all-powerful being but there was already so much going on that it just wasn’t needed. Aside from that, I think the general consensus amongst watchers of the show is that Asylum has the best writing of any season and I think I’d tend to agree. It’s not my favourite because it’s too depressing to rewatch but if we’re talking the first time round, this is the series that had me hooked. Lana Winters?

Iconic.

Sister Mary Eunice? Iconic. The Name Game? Iconic. Remember when you couldn’t go a day on Facebook without seeing that one photo of Naomi Grossman as Pepper used as the go to “what I really look like” photo in one of those “expectation vs. reality” style posts on your newsfeed? Those were simpler times.

Because this season was mostly situated within the hospital, we didn’t get that many proper outfits but when we did, they were stunning; if I had to state my absolute favourite AHS character of the entire show I’d probably go with Lana Winters and the part her wardrobe played in her characterisation would 100% play a part in that. The late 60s/early 70s was such a wonderful period for fashion and through her character we get to see both of those explored a little. Of course there’s also *that* Sister Mary Eunice scene with the red slip dress and suspenders too which yes, could be a perfect halloween costume, but I also strongly believe should be a perfectly acceptable outfit for any day of the year.

Coven: Misty Day, Madison Montgomery, and Zoe Benson

-chiffon dress from rags_to_riches on Depop, pinstripe corset from hanpiercey, and tennis skirt from mollie_morton-

I hate to be a basic bitch but I have to say it: Coven is my favourite season of American Horror Story. Once you get over the complete waste of Evan Peters’ acting capabilities that resulted from the *choice* to have him play Kyle, the unnecessary rehash of the Evan/Taissa pairing from season 1 in what I can only assume was an attempt to capitalise on the popularity of the questionable Tate/Violet relationship, and the subsequent sacrifice of any interesting character arc we could’ve foreseen for Zoe Benson beyond her obsessing over a resurrected, non-verbal frat boy, it’s a perfect season. A supreme (heh) balance of horror, humour, and character drama, as well as the stunning aesthetics and forever quotable dialogue, make it my go-to season if I’m ever considering a rewatch. And if you disagree, let me jog your memory with the most mainstream (not to get all “normal people scare me�� and suggest AHS is not a mainstream show, I literally just mean in the sense that even those who have never watched the show will have seen this) reaction GIF set any FX show has even spawned:

Buzzfeed employees had a field day, Emma Roberts enthusiasts (I mean me) finally saw her cemented as the pop culture icon Scream Queens has since showed us she deserves to be (because not enough people have seen Unfabulous, Nancy Drew or Scream 4) and the gays everywhere rejoiced at the year’s worth of meme fodder they’d been provided with. It was Madison Montgomery’s world and we were truly just living in it.

And the fashion! I mean, Stevie Nicks meets 21st century teenage witches! Come on!

Freakshow: Dandy Mott, Maggie Esmerelda and Elsa Mars

-olive green satin skirt from morganogle on Depop, headscarf from tonijordan, platform sandals from elliefewt, PVC skirt from bethpin_, corset top from sadieflinter, beret from house_of_erotique, flame detail platform boots from mad_rags_vintage-

When people talk about the declining quality of AHS, they usually point to Freakshow as the beginning of the end, but I have to completely disagree. I wasn’t a fan the first time round but on rewatch it’s probably the most emotional season of them all; no, there aren’t as many “horrifying” moments as in other seasons and Elsa is probably Jessica’s worst performance (which is still an incredible one by anybody else’s standards), however it makes up for it with the most sympathetic bunch of characters yet, and on the flip side, also one of the most amusingly depraved with Finn Wittrock’s Dandy Mott. Fans usually argue that the season went downhill once *SPOILER* Twisty the Clown was killed off but for me, he really primarily served as the catalyst for the far more interesting devolution of Dandy, who, imo, is the show’s strongest villain to date, rivalled only by Bloody Face. Then there was the episode Orphans too which made me cry buckets, the sole AHS episode to do so.

We got a lot of great fashion content in this season too: the theatrical opulence of Elsa Mars’ wardrobe, “Maggie”’s nomadic fortune teller costumes, and all those twee suits we saw Finn Wittrock in. Highly underrated if you ask me. It seems an odd choice for me to use Elsa’s Dominatrix look as an inspiration for one of my looks here when we have that Life on Mars performance outfit and all the extravagant robes Jessica got to waltz around in for reference buuuut I didn’t really have anything to do the vibrancy of either of those justice so I went with the black leather option which is much more me. Am I saying I moonlight as a dominatrix? Maybe. Lol, no. I wish. It’s not for lack of trying. WHERE ARE ALL THE GENUINE TWITTER PAYPIGS AT!? Your girl wants to insult creepy men and get some new clothes out of it xoxo

Hotel: Hypodermic Sally, Liz Taylor, and The Countess

-silk white bralet from xlibby_maix on Depop-

Hotel is another season that I liked a lottttt more upon rewatch, once I knew I was okay to tune out the (completely predictable and utterly nonsensical) Ten Commandments Killer storyline that so much of the season initially seems to hinge on. I love Chloë Sevigny but the fact that her and Wes Bentley’s wooden John and Alex Lowe are positioned as the protagonists at the expense of the far more interesting Liz Taylor, James March and Hypodermic Sally really does a disservice to what is an otherwise great season upon initial viewing.

The visuals this season are magnificent and I think if I had to pick one character’s wardrobe to steal from the entire cast of AHS characters, it would be The Countess (a toss up between her and Misty Day tbh, so I kinda just settle for low-key channelling both). No fucking idea where I'd wear any of her clothes to but I’d make it work. Liz Taylor and Hypodermic Sally have some amazing looks too-there’s just honestly so much to choose from; that being said, this post wouldn’t be complete without a specific ode to the vampire goddess Elizabeth Bathory, who is everything I want to be in life minus the murderous qualities:

Everything. EVER-Y-THING. LOOK AT HER!

Lady Gaga is really a fucking goddess isn’t she. And people were claiming before they’d even seen it that she couldn’t act? A patriarchal society doesn’t like women that can do it all. Just saying.

Anyways!

That’s it for now! I hope you enjoyed the post if you did read til the end! Sorry I couldn’t get this out before Halloween, I was typing and Picmonkey-ing madly from 2 in the afternoon on the 31st but I taking fucking forever to get ready and had to abandon all hope of getting it out on the day by 4PM. I’ve got so much content planned and it sucks because a couple of them are lookbooks which now feel completely redundant given we’re heading into a second lockdown, but maybe I should just do it anyway? The grunge inspired moodboard I just did seemed to get a good reception too so I’ve got some more of them planned.

As always, hope everyone is keeping well, and feel free to inbox me with any suggestions, queries or even just to say hi if you need someone to talk to! I check here quite a lot so I should see it. Lots of love to everyone in this time!

Lauren x

67 notes · View notes

pointlesstrashyexistence · 4 years ago

Text

Hellers I know you love your Taylor Swift edits but may I nominate The Amazing Devil. I know The Witcher and Geraskier kind of has a monopoly on it but just hear me out.

Battlecries - A couple with intense emotions under duress breaking up for the betterment of themselves as individuals and trying to keep their last night together as civil as possible despite wanting to be loud and angry. Divorce arc or I guess just any time their angry and apart for long periods and come back together

Welly Boots - Boy oh boy do I hate how horrible Dean was to Jack during his Widower arc and how that was just left unaddressed and Dean then just constantly flip flopped between viewing Jack as this expendable monster he only wants around when he’s useful or a child he’s raising that he considers his kid and loves. But every day I imagine how I would react to a Destiel video with this song about someone mourning the loss of a loved one while the ghost of that lost one tries to continue showing love from beyond using widow Dean edits that ends with him seeing Cas at the phone booth over the lyrics “Someone’s gone and left behind a brand new pair of scarlet welly boots”

Fair - two lovers reflecting on how increadebly unfathomably much they love each other and find comfort in each other even when they feel like they’re gonna fall apart but they feel like they can appear fine as long as they have each other? Go crazy with your choices of emotional scenes of Dean and Cas fighting, arguing, hugging, crying, and forgiving each other.

Elsa’s Song - two warriors finding comfort in each other on the battlefield before one dies and the other cries in the spot where the first warrior dies because they really did truly love the other even if the other really didn’t know or accept it? Make me cry with that last scene of Dean crying in 15x18 I guess.

#destiel #Destiel #heller #hellers #deancas #destiheller #destihellers #casdean #the amazing devil #The Amazing Devil #supernatural #Supernatural #spn #SPN

17 notes · View notes

cosplayinamerica · 4 years ago

Photo

Snow 23 (X-23 (All New Wolverine) X Snow White) : thespookyskeptic // Photo : kickassdesigns

I started cosplaying in March of 2018 at Emerald City Comic Con. My family and I were characters from Jurassic Park (photos can be found on my Instagram if you’re curious). I remember walking in and feeling like I finally found a place where I was understood. I found my community. It came at a time when I really, really needed community and understanding.

I was asked to join a cosplay group that was Disney/Marvel mashups. My design was inspired by the similar costume colors between the two characters and because I love them both dearly! I formed the character by taking elements from both Snow White and X-23 and blending them together. She turned out pretty badass if you ask me!

I started by designing the character and then outsourced most of the various pieces. I thrifted and then painted the boots yellow. I also learned how to sew and made the cape and collar from scratch! For the suit, I ordered a design from @gun_head_design which was then printed by @zentaizone. The claws were commissioned from @darkmatterprops and the wig from @themagicmakingmermaid. The various pieces such as the bird, belt, and broach were bought from Amazon or Michael’s and altered by me.

(Photo : @kickassdesigns)

I was in a large group of other very awesome mashups (such as Captain America Aurora by @phonyghost and Loki Mulan by @sakebomb to name a couple) at Rose City Comicon.

It was interesting because we couldn’t walk more than a few feet without being stopped for photos! The whole event was memorable. Part of why I cosplay is because the community is epic, and the friendships that I’ve made mean a lot to me. It was really exciting to see so many people nerd out over our group, which we all spent a lot of time and effort on putting together. It was fun and a rewarding experience.

My mental health is a big struggle because I’m very aware of my struggles and want to heal from them. I have severe PTSD from multiple traumas in my life, and was recently (more like FINALLY) diagnosed with adult ADHD-combined, which means I have inattentive and a few hyperactive traits. It can be very hard for me to be on time, concentrate, finish something after starting it, and follow through with things I say I’m going to do, plus I’m extremely sensitive and emotional (yes, that’s an ADHD trait for some). I have been a huge procrastinator and messy my whole life, even though I don’t want to be. Talk about challenging.

My PTSD has been extremely bad since the pandemic started, I’m struggling with managing my fear of loss and the stress surrounding not working for most of this year. The combination of the two disorders has been fairly destructive at times, but only because it was undiagnosed and I didn’t understand what was happening to me.

Therapy has been a very helpful tool, and learning more about myself and how my actions effect other people is eye opening. I care a lot and love very deeply, so that is part of what motivates me to be open and vulnerable about my mental health. I want to help myself and in turn help those who are close to me. I am currently struggling to find motivation to cosplay with everything that is going on in the world and with my own life, but I hope to get back into soon because it is a form of therapy for me. Art sparks joy for me in a way that not many other things can.

(Photo : @kickassdesigns)

Cosplay has gotten me through a lot of hardship and growth the past few years, and I’m beyond grateful for it’s place in my life. I even started a princess business where I dress as Elsa and attend birthday parties and events for kids! It’s currently all virtual because of the pandemic but it’s nice to be able to do it from home and have a good reason to cosplay when my motivation for it is low.

Finally, I want to say that no matter how hard life gets, there is always a reason to keep living. If you’re struggling, reach out to someone. There is healing and strength in vulnerability, and with healing comes peace and understanding. You never know when you’re going to walk into a room and have that moment of clarity that you’ve found your place and your community. If it happened for me, it can happen for you, too.

#X-23 #X-23 cosplay #Snow White #Snow White cosplay #marvel cosplay #cosplay #cosplay interview

60 notes · View notes

thecassadilla · 4 years ago

Text

Of All the Apples

Pairing: Kristanna

Word Count: 3,752/AO3

Summary: Though Kristoff is uncertain about his relationship with Anna, he agrees to go apple picking with her, where he is forced to confront his feelings.

Author’s Note: Though Kristoff is uncertain about his relationship with Anna, he agrees to go apple picking with her, where he is forced to confront his feelings.

Author’s Note: Okay, so there may be a teeny bit of projection here - I really wanted to go apple or pumpkin picking at some point during this month. I doubt it’ll happen, so I may as well just write about other people doing the things that I want to do, right? Anyways, for some strange reason this was *incredibly* difficult to write - I think I revised it 30 times. I still don’t know if I’m completely satisfied, to be honest. I don't even know if it makes any sense?? But I'm just going to post it anyway. Enjoy!!!

Hearing the doorbell ring had become a familiar and expected sound. Every single day, around the same time, Anna rang the bell and patiently stood on Kristoff’s doorstep. She waited to be invited inside, even though he had told her multiple times to just come inside when she felt like it. He left the door unlocked for a reason, after all.

“Come in!” he called. He heard the door open and close from where he was, and dainty footsteps made their way towards the living room. In no time at all, she had made it to the couch, quietly collapsing into the empty spot next to him. For some reason, it made him think back to the first time they had met.

He remembered it like it had happened yesterday instead of a year ago. He’d just moved into his new rental - the tiniest house on the street - which happened to be right next door to the grandiose mansion Anna and her sister had inherited from their deceased parents. Anna, still very much a stranger at this point, had shown up on his doorstep with a store bought box of chocolate cupcakes. After apologizing profusely for not baking them herself, oversharing about her lack of skills in the kitchen, and apologizing again for assuming he’d like chocolate, she handed him the box and welcomed him to the neighborhood. That very day, he fell in love with the girl who lived next door.

She walked into his life on her own volition and for some reason that he couldn’t understand, she kept coming back. Since their initial meeting, much had changed. Before he knew it, she was spending more time at his house than she was at her own, and they were sharing intimate conversations and passionate kisses. Their relationship evolved before his own eyes - from neighbors, to friends, to starting an incredibly fulfilling sexual relationship.

Despite the fact that he was completely and utterly in love with her, he spent nearly every waking hour convincing himself that she’d never want to be more than what they currently were; that every shared moment between them was some form of pageantry as opposed to something very, very real.

Instead of believing in the possibility that she could be as in love with him as he was with her, he attempted and failed to keep her at an arm's length; she was intoxicating and it was too difficult to stay away from her, no matter how much he knew that it would hurt when it ended and she moved on with someone else. So, he kept his feelings to himself and never defined their relationship.

But today, something was off. She wasn’t acting like her normal, perky self; she was quiet.

“What’s wrong?” he finally asked.

“Nothing is wrong per se,” she answered with a sigh. “But I have a question for you and I think that I already know what the answer is going to be.”

“Go for it,” he encouraged her.

“I know you hate going places, but I really want to go apple picking tomorrow, and I was hoping that you’d want to come along with me.” She gave him a hopeful smile, batting her eyelashes at him.

Though she always attempted to make plans with him outside of the house, they rarely went out in public together and when they did, it was only to the grocery store. He was too afraid to be seen with her because in his eyes, a guy like him didn’t deserve a girl like her. “Oh. I don’t really think I’ll be useful -”

“You’d be useful!” she insisted enthusiastically. “Because you’re so tall! And I would really love to go with you. Can you please come apple picking with me?”

“I don’t know,” he answered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Somehow it was the best answer that he could come up with. He didn’t have a real reason to say no, but he wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to say yes, either. He cleared his throat. “Elsa’s busy?”

She forced out a laugh. “Bold of you to assume that Elsa wants to spend her day off with me.”

“I’m sorry,” he frowned.

Any hope she had quickly melted away and her shoulders slumped in defeat. “It’s okay, I get it. I can go by myself, I guess.”

She moved to stand up, and acting on an impulse, he grabbed her hand, knowing that he may come to regret it. “Wait!”

She turned to face him. “What?”

“If it’s really that important to you, then I’ll go with you.”

She hardly gave him a chance to finish before she was throwing her arms around his neck. “Thank you, Kristoff!”

He awkwardly patted her back. “You’re welcome.”

She pulled away suddenly. “Oh crap, I forgot my phone charger at home! I’m just going to go grab it and I’ll be right back, okay?”

He nodded, and she smiled before rushing out of the house.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He wasn’t sure what time she had snuck out of his bed that morning, but she was gone when he woke up just after ten. She hardly ever woke up before him, and it was even more unusual for her to have left at all. He rubbed at his eyes a few times before reaching for his phone, and sure enough, she had sent him a text explaining her whereabouts. She was right next door, in her own house, getting ready for their excursion. He sighed, knowing that she must have been extremely excited to have gotten up so early when they weren’t even leaving for several more hours.

So, he climbed out of bed, aware of the fact that for the first Saturday in a long time, Anna wasn’t with him. He had grown used to their sleepy weekend mornings together, half-dressed and sitting at his kitchen table with plates of pancakes in front of them. Without her there, he followed his weekday routine; he ate, showered and got dressed, keeping it casual with jeans and a black t-shirt layered under a red flannel. And then, he waited.

When the time had finally come, he went out and stood by her car, hoping that she’d be out soon. His jaw nearly dropped when she finally did. Clad in a grey v-neck sweater and light wash skinny jeans, she paired the outfit with ankle boots. Her hair was half-up, half-down and softly curled.

“Hey,” she smiled when she saw him waiting. “You ready to go?”

“Born ready. You look great, by the way.”

“So do you, I really like that flannel. You should wear red more often.”

“Thanks,” he blushed, looking down at his shirt. “Aren’t you worried about getting dirty though? We’re going to be walking around in the dirt.”

She laughed. “I don’t plan on rolling around in the dirt.”

“I know, but I don’t want you to ruin your shoes or something.”

“It’ll be fine,” she assured him, before unlocking the car doors and tossing her purse in the backseat. “Climb in.”

He did as he was told, sliding into the passenger seat.

“This is kind of a rare occurrence, huh? Me driving you somewhere,” she observed aloud as she started the engine. She crossed the seatbelt over her lap and glanced over at him.

He shrugged. “I like driving.”

“Yeah, but you’re not my chauffeur. I should drive you around more,” she remarked. “Which would mean that we’d have to go out more.”

He shook his head. “I don’t...we shouldn’t -“

“Oh god, do you think I’m a bad driver?”

“What? No!”

“I swear, I’ve only gotten one speeding ticket in my entire life and I wasn’t even going that fast.”

“Anna, your driving is fine. I was just going to say that you don’t have to worry about driving me around because we shouldn’t really be going places together.”

“Okay then,” she responded, noticeably taken aback. “May I ask why you think that?”

“It just seems like a bad idea.”

“So going to dinner after this is out of the question?”

“We could order takeout,” he suggested. “Or I can cook for you.”

She muttered something inaudible and for a few miles they sat quietly, listening to the radio. He stared out the window and admired the fall foliage, hoping that the day would go by smoothly.

Anna finally spoke up when they were about a mile from the orchard. “So, I want to get enough apples to bake a pie -”

He snorted. “You? Bake a pie?”

“Yeah,” she answered confidently. “I know I’m not great in the kitchen but I’ve never made an apple pie before and I want to try. I could really use your help.”

He glared at her. “Do I look like I’ve made an apple pie before?”

“No, but you’re more competent in the kitchen than I am.”

“Cooking is straightforward. Baking is precise. You mis-measure one ingredient and the entire thing is ruined,” he explained. “That’s why whenever you mention wanting dessert, I always go to the store and buy it.”

“I know the grocery store sells pre-made pie crusts. We can stop there after the orchard, and then that’s one less thing to worry about.”

“I did a little research about the orchard that we’re going to and they sell pies in their store,” he pointed out. “You can save yourself the stress and just buy one.”

“But what’s the fun in that?”

“I guess that’s why we’re going to a farm to buy apples and not to the grocery store,” he remarked, rolling his eyes.

“This is what people do in October. Apple picking, pumpkin picking, corn mazes. It’s fun!”

“They do that stuff to get likes on the Internet, too.”

She didn’t answer, but simply pursed her lips.

He sighed. “Let me guess, you want me to take pictures of you for Instagram?”

“Maybe.”

“Why don’t you stop at a Starbucks and get a pumpkin spice latte to pose with while you’re at it?”

“Rude.”

“It’s what people do in October,” he said, mimicking her sentiment from moments ago.

“Stop criticizing fall, it’s my favorite season. And I’ve never had a pumpkin spice latte, so ha,” she said, before sticking her tongue out at him.

“I’m not criticizing fall. I’m criticizing what people do in fall.”

“As we’re pulling into the parking lot of an apple orchard, to pick apples.”

“Your idea, not mine,” he reminded her.

“You agreed to come, mister.”

“Because you need someone to grab the hard to reach apples for you. Remember?”

She shook her head, though a knowing smile spread across her face. “Can you at least try to have fun?”

“No promises,” he answered, a small smile of his own appearing.

The lot was packed with cars, but she was able to find an empty spot with ease. They climbed out of the car, and walked toward the picking area. The attendant at the entrance handed Anna a basket, provided some instructions for them to follow, and told them that the apples would be weighed for purchase when they finished their walk-through.

When they finally entered the picking area, Anna spoke up. “What should we do first? Apples or pictures?”

He shrugged. “Up to you.”

“Apples first, then.”

There were kids and families everywhere, running from tree to tree, snapping pictures, and chattering away. They walked side-by-side along the center path, trying to avoid bumping into the other people. After walking a few feet, her fingertips brushed against his and he bit down on his lip, trying as hard as he could to ignore it. She moved to take his hand in her own, but he gently pulled away and took a step to the side to create a bit of distance between them.

“Do you not want to hold my hand?” she laughed.

“Oh, um,” he started, looking down at his palm before offering it to her. “I do.”

She accepted with a smile, and laced her soft fingers through his. “This is really nice, we should do stuff like this more often.”

“Apple picking is a seasonal thing,” he remarked, trying to deflect.

“That’s not what I meant,” she giggled. “I meant we should go out more in general.”

“Hey, this tree has a lot of apples.” He pulled her toward it, hoping that it would distract her. He dropped her hand and motioned to the tree. “Pick away.”

“Why are you being weird?”

“I’m not.”

She handed him the basket, and reached for an apple that was hanging near her head. “Yeah, you are. Is something bothering you?”

“No,” he lied. She gently placed the apple in the basket before trying to take it back from him. “Only one apple?”

“This place is huge, we don’t have to get all of our apples from this one tree.”

“I’ll carry the basket for you,” he insisted, hoping that it would prevent her from noticing that they weren’t holding hands anymore. It didn’t work.

“Can you hold it in your other hand? Or should I just walk on the other side?”

“I’ll hold it in my other hand.” He transferred the basket and she immediately took his hand again.

They walked for a while, occasionally stopping at trees and picking a few apples before repeating the same routine. When they were approaching the last section of trees before the weighing station, Anna paused.

“Since we’re almost done and there aren’t that many people over here, we should stop for a few pictures now,” she said, dropping his hand and digging through her bag. “If you’re okay with that.”

“Yeah that’s fine.”

She dug out her phone and handed it to him, dropping her purse by his feet and taking a few steps towards the trees. He placed the basket down next to it before opening up the camera app on her phone.

There was no simple way to describe how beautiful she looked as she posed for the camera; between the sunlight that was bouncing off of her hair and the radiant smile that was spread across her face, she was absolutely ethereal. He was so entranced, that he hardly noticed that she was moving toward him and continued snapping pictures until she was much closer than before.

“Can I see how they came out?” she asked, holding her hand out. He placed the phone in her hand and she swiped through them. “They came out great! You’re a pretty good photographer.”

“I guess,” he shrugged.

She slid her phone into her back pocket and then held out her hand again. “Give me your phone, I’ll take a few pictures of you.”

“I don’t need any pictures of myself.”

“You can post it to your Instagram!”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ve only posted to Instagram, like, three times. I hardly use it.”

“It’s never too late. Don’t you want your friends to see what you were up to this weekend?”

“Not really. I don’t have a million friends to impress.”

“I don’t have a million friends and I’m not trying to impress anyone,” she scoffed. “I just think that it would be nice.”

“Which is why I took pictures of you for your Instagram. You don’t have to worry about me.”

She opened her mouth to argue back, but was interrupted when a woman approached them. “Hey, would you mind taking a few pictures of my boyfriend and I?”

“Of course!” Anna answered, accepting the phone from her.

The couple posed and Anna snapped a few photos before handing the phone back.

The woman looked through the pictures. “Thank you so much, they look really good. Do you want me to take a couple for you guys?”

Before he could say no, Anna was handing her phone to the woman. She grabbed his arm and dragged him back a few steps. Before he knew it, she was pressed into his side, her arm wrapped tightly around his lower back. He was unsure what to do with his own arms, and at the last minute, he draped his arm around her shoulders. He was positive that the pictures would perfectly encapsulate the tension he was feeling in his face, but he did his best to smile. After what felt like an eternity, the woman handed the phone back to Anna.

“Thank you so much, I really appreciate it,” she said to the woman, who smiled in return.

“Please don’t put those on the Internet,” he begged once the couple had wandered away.

“Why? You look great,” she said, holding the phone out to him. He took a quick look, and just as he expected, they looked way too couple-y for her to casually post it online.

“Just...don’t.”

“But we look so adorable! I want all of my friends to see it.”

“You’re probably better off just posting the pictures of you alone,” he insisted. “Your friends may get the wrong idea.”

“The wrong idea?”

“You know, they may make assumptions.”

She looked up from her phone, and stared directly into his eyes. “What assumptions do you think they’ll make?”

He didn’t answer, instead choosing to look away from her.

“I need a legitimate reason for not posting this picture,” she insisted. “Tell me, what assumptions do you think my friends will make?”

He hesitated, thinking of how to properly phrase the thoughts running through his mind. “I don’t want people to think we’re a couple when we’re not. It’s weird and embarrassing.”

“We’re not a couple?” she asked incredulously, her eyes nearly popping out of her head.

He was suddenly questioning everything he was certain of a mere moment ago. “Are we?”

“I assumed we were! We’re always together, and you know all of my secrets, and not to be too candid in a public place but we have a physical relationship - oh god, have I been reading this wrong? Are we just friends with benefits? Is that why you didn’t want to hold my hand? Are you, like, embarrassed of me?” She blinked a few times, not taking her eyes off of his.

“No!” he exclaimed loudly, causing a few people to turn around and stare in their direction. Grotesquely aware of the fact that people were paying attention, he continued in a hushed voice, “I didn’t think you’d want to be my girlfriend.”

“Why on earth would you think that?” she squawked, raising a shaky hand to her chest.

He could feel his world crumbling around him. “I’m me and you’re...you. You’re amazing and gorgeous and funny and I’m a boring, grumpy homebody.”

“You’re so much more than that; you’re kind and caring and respectful.”

He took a breath, trying to hold it together. “I don’t think I’m as great as you think I am.”

“I’m in love with you, Kristoff,” she confessed suddenly, the words tumbling out of her mouth with little regard as to how they’d be received. “I wasn’t planning on telling you like this, but you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me and I need you to know that.”

Though the revelation had hit him like a ton of bricks, for the first time ever, he felt at ease with his own feelings. “I love you, too.”

“You do? You aren’t just saying that because I said it?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I mean it. I’ve felt this way for a long time but I’ve been too much of a coward to say anything, too busy convincing myself that you’d be better off with someone else.”

She was in his arms, then, squeezing as tightly as she could, her cheek smashed up against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin atop her head. “You silly, silly boy, we have got to work on this self-deprecating attitude of yours. You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“I’m sorry,” he grimaced, biting down on his lip.

“And for the record, I don’t think that I’d be better off with anyone else.”

He nodded against her instead of answering.

“I would kiss you but people are staring at us,” she said, pulling back slightly so she could look up at him but still keeping her arms firmly around his waist. “We should get out of here.”

“Good idea.”

“Can I please take you out to dinner tonight? I know you don’t -”

The smile on his face was enough for her to stop speaking mid-sentence. “That would be great.”

She heaved a sigh of relief, finally letting go of him so she could grab her purse and the basket. They walked hand-in-hand to the weighing station, where she bagged and paid for the apples they’d picked before walking back to the parking lot.

“Thank you for convincing me to come today, Anna,” he said as they walked to the car. “I’m really glad that I came.”

“I’m really glad that you came, too. And I’m glad that we were able to clear up that misunderstanding.”

“I’m sorry for scaring you like that. I spent a long time convincing myself that there was no possible way that you’d want to be with me, and it became believable.”

“I wouldn’t spend every single day with you if I didn’t want to be with you,” she assured him. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Sure,” he nodded.

“I’ve lived on our street for my entire life, and tons of people have come and gone, obviously. I can faithfully say that I have only ever welcomed one person to the neighborhood, and that was you.”

“Really? Why?”

She smirked. “I needed an excuse to talk to the cute boy who was moving in next door.”

“Oh,” he chuckled, feeling his cheeks warm up.

“I haven’t stopped bothering you since,” she said, matter-of-factly.

They climbed back into her car, and buckled their seatbelts before she started the ignition.

“And by the way, you should check Instagram,” she remarked, as she started to back out of the spot.

He dug his phone out of his pocket and launched the app. He had a few notifications, but the most recent one led him to a post that he’d been tagged in. Anna had posted the picture of the two of them with the caption: “All the apples in the orchard, and I’d pick him every time.”

He smiled to himself before liking the picture. “Would you mind sending me the pictures we took? I want my friends to see them.”

#kristanna #kristanna fanfic #anna #kristoff bjorgman #frozen #frozen fic #my writing

34 notes · View notes

shireness-says · 4 years ago

Text

Swan’s Seven (4/?)

Summary: After two years behind bars, Emma’s out, and she’s got a plan in mind. Now to put together the perfect team… Let’s stage an art heist. (A CS Ocean’s 8 AU) ~3.9K. Rated T for language. Also on AO3. Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

~~~~~

A/N: Hello, all. It’s been a while on this one. 11 months, nearly to the day. Word to the wise: don’t sign up for six writing events all at once. The good news is there’s not a lot to refresh on, if you need the refresher! The gist: we’re robbing an art galley, and CS are trying to come back from starting out on the wrong foot.

Thanks, as always, to @snidgetsafan for beta-ing, and to YOU ALL for being so patient with me.

Tags: @optomisticgirl, @spartanguard, @profdanglaisstuff, @captainsjedi, @thisonesatellite, @thejollyroger-writer, @let-it-raines, @teamhook, @kmomof4, @snowbellewells, @searchingwardrobes, @winterbaby89, @scientificapricot, @superchocovian, @welllpthisishappening, @ohmightydevviepuu. Shoot me a message if you want to be added/taken off the list.

And a last note: last September, @spartanguard made some AMAZING fan art for me! Check it out and give her love, if you haven’t already!

Enjoy - and let me know what you think!

~~~~~

Emma makes her living off of first impressions and gut feelings. She’s a career con; those feelings can keep you alive and out of jail. Emma prides herself on rarely being wrong, with few (if spectacular - looking at you, Neal) exceptions.

Perhaps that’s why it rankles so much that she finds herself liking Killian Jones - it’s an admittance that her first impression, that he was nothing but a cocky bastard there to undermine her, was wrong. But underneath that seems to be a kind man, a polite and chivalrous one, a man who held the door for Elsa this morning and is currently with Belle unwrapping some kind of machine for replicating bronzes, as promised, the both of them displaying near-childlike glee at the new toy. It’s a side of him that Emma hadn’t expected to see, given those first few disastrous interactions.

(The side of him, so to speak, that Emma is treated to watching Killian bend over the box isn’t half bad either.)

A low whistle sounds from over Emma’s shoulder where she leans against the bar, almost as if she conjured it into existence. That’s not the case, of course; Ruby may be practicing her drink mixing before she starts at Robin’s tomorrow, plying them all with dangerously strong cocktails in the process, but as far as Emma’s aware, the saucy brunette isn’t any sort of mindreader.

“Damn if that’s not a pretty sight,” Ruby comments with a smirk as she measures out a hefty shot of vodka. “I love a man who can fill out a pair of jeans right.”

“I thought you were more interested in a woman who can fill out a pair of jeans right.” It’s not a criticism - just, apparently, a significant misread on Emma’s part. Another one.

Or not. “Baby, I’m not picky,” Ruby winks. “I like everyone. Just say the word if you’re ever interested.”

“Not really looking - especially not if it mixes business with pleasure - but I’ll keep it in mind. Thanks, Ruby.”

Ruby hums. “That mean you won’t ever make a move on Jones?”

“Why would I ever want to make a move on Jones?” Emma snorts.

Ruby just shrugs in response. “I don’t know. You two have got that charged tension going on. It’s a lot more fun to fuck it out than fight it out. You can’t deny he’s easy on the eyes, either - I’ve seen you looking.”

It’s a little too late to claim she was watching where Regina and Elsa hover over a laptop, monitoring the feed from Tink’s glasses from her first day at her new internship. That just leaves sarcasm to fall back on - always a solid choice. “Yeah, well, I’ve been in a women’s prison for two years. Can’t blame a red-blooded American woman for looking.”

“I’ll let you pretend that’s all it is. For now.” As if to accentuate, Ruby slides a bright aqua cocktail across the counter. “Enjoy your Blue Motherfucker.”

(Emma didn’t order the cocktail by any stretch of the imagination, but damn, does that burn feel good going down.)

Liquid courage doesn’t have anything to do with the way she saunters over to meet Killian where he hunches over an instruction manual. At the sound of her boots on the industrial concrete, his head snaps to attention, turning to meet her face to face.

“What can I do for you, Swan?” he asks with that smirk she’s learning is just an affectation. She thinks it might be armor, the same way she wears her red leather jacket; warn everyone away and you won’t get hurt.

“What are you up to tomorrow?”

“Depends. What are you about to propose?”

“How about you and I have a little date at an art gallery?”

———

“Not that I don’t appreciate your efforts, darling,” Killian murmurs in her ear, “but next time - I plan the date.”

“You seem awfully sure that there will be another date,” Emma snarks back. “Think highly of yourself, don’t you? And I’m not your darling.”

“What can I say, love - I can’t help that I’m devilishly handsome and charming. I’ve found it a winning combination.”

“Not your love, either.”

It’s not actually a date - just something intended to look like one. To anyone else at the gallery, they look like a pair of lovers, whispering sweet nothings to each other as they observe the masterpieces. All the while, Elsa observes exactly where the boundaries of each video camera lie from her computer back at the Poison Apple as Emma and Killian slink past corners with a faux-smitten giggle or tug on the lapel of a leather jacket.

“You are aware that we can hear you, right?” Regina drawls in the hidden earpiece they both wear.

“As if I could ever forget you, Madame Mills,” Killian replies smoothly. “I must say, I wouldn’t normally invite someone else along on an afternoon romantic excursion, but if the lovely Swan enjoys someone else listening in to… shall we say, private moments, then I am happy to —”

“So help me God, if you finish that sentence, I will remove your balls with my pocket knife,” Emma interrupts.

“Ah, so you like them quiet too.” At her sharp look - one she’s sure could cut through steel if she just tried hard enough - Killian bows his head in concession. “I’ll stop, if only for the sake of my anatomy.”

“Good decision.”

“And I’ll repeat, we can hear you,” Regina snaps into their earpieces.

(Emma will never admit that in the midst of the banter, she forgot.)

“Alright, Your Majesty, don’t get your knickers in a twist.” Killian’s voice isn’t exactly soothing, but it’s something approaching conciliatory. Emma just hopes the cameras aren’t so good as to see the way he winks, completely contradicting his words.

“How’s it going, Elsa?” Emma asks under her breath, hoping to change the subject. Turning things back towards the reason she and Killian are here in the first place.

“Just fine, Emma,” Elsa’s calm voice trails through the ear piece. “The cameras up front will be… somewhat trickier to manipulate just due to sheer numbers, as you can imagine, but doable. I’ll work on dissecting their alarm system on the displayed paintings next. I would appreciate a closer pass around the doors to the staff-only areas, if you don’t mind terribly.”

“Not at all.”

Slowly, they make their way towards Elsa’s directed areas, keeping a leisurely pace and making sure to stop and briefly examine the works on the walls as they go, maintaining their facade as a somewhat distracted young couple. Jones pauses for a particularly long time to examine an impressionistic landscape Emma won’t pretend to recognize without the assistance of the side label she has no intention of looking at. By all appearances, he sees something in there that she doesn’t.

“Shopping, are we?” she leans up to whisper in his ear. It’s not flirting, not really; not real flirting anyways. It’s just all for show, and Emma? Well, she’s a born actress when it comes to a con.

“‘Fraid I don’t have the space on my walls, darling,” he smirks. “Ask me again in a few weeks, maybe I’ll have a bigger, better place. In the meantime, just admiring the colors.”

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for an art enthusiast,” Emma comments as they finally saunter into the particular camera’s range, extracting the gallery guide from her back jeans pocket to give herself a reason to stop.

“I’m not. Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate it from an amateur standpoint.” He leans in close - for show, of course, all for show - to whisper back in her own ear. “Now let’s hurry up and finish so we can get out of here.”

Emma tosses him a sideways look. “This may seem like a date, but you’re not getting lucky, buddy.”

“And I’d never presume as such. Now, Elsa, what else do you need?”

“A round by the other staff doors, and then just a final pass by the front guard’s desk, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, lass.”

Killian may be an annoyance, but he really does make a good partner for this kind of thing. Two people on a date is a good reason to stop, to linger, especially in inappropriate places and at inappropriate times. And Jones? Jones is a master of suggestive smirks and flirtatious gazes whose salacious intimacy turns guards’ eyes away. By all appearances, they’re two people going through the motions of a date and just biding their time before some more enjoyable activities - at least on his side.

Emma is fine playing along; it’s easy enough to make the effort to linger in his space - all for appearances, of course - and create little affectionate touches. Hell, it’s even fun to slip her hand into the back pocket of Killian’s jeans and imprint to her memory the way he tries so hard not to jump in surprise at the gesture. But all the while, her mind is elsewhere - cataloging entrance and exit routes, taking note of pieces they’ll want to target, and remembering the faces of the guards to relay to Ruby later. This is work, not fun time; any enjoyment she might be finding is secondary to their goals.

“You can relax now, Swan,” Killian comments once they’ve finally made their way back outside and down the block, tapping at his earpiece to turn it off while Emma does the same. She’s had rather enough of Regina’s particular brand of sarcasm today.

“I’m always relaxed,” she all but snaps back. It rather undermines her own point, but whatever.

“Oh yes, that’s so clearly evidenced by the set of your shoulders. Tell me, are they supposed to sit quite that high and tense?”

Carefully, she makes sure to relax her posture. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Hmm. I’m sure you don’t.” Killian’s smile nearly sparkles, even in the middle of that mocking, not that she’d let it distract her. No, Emma is made of sterner stuff than that. With a quirk of an eyebrow, he slings an arm - the one with a hand, she notices - over those same shoulders. “C’mon, Swan, let’s go down to the bar and check on Ruby,” he declares. “I’ll buy you a drink.”

Emma debates shrugging his arm off, coming back with another snappy quip, but ultimately decides against it; some things just aren’t worth the effort when it’s been a weird day and she’s tired. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t have questions about this little side trip he’s proposing. “Why?”

“Why do I want to buy you a drink? Well, Swan, when a single man - like myself - meets a pretty young lady —”

“You know what I mean, smartass. Why do you want to go to the bar?”

“Ah, that. Well, you’re a bit of an open book Swan, and one who likes to hold all the cards. You’ve been carefully steering this whole data-gathering enterprise; I can tell you want to check in on how Ruby’s doing. I’d never call you a control freak, of course - that’d be terribly bad form - but, well…”

“I am not a control freak,” Emma protests.

“No?”

“No. Regina is a control freak. I am a… control enthusiast.”

“Kinky.”

“Do you just want me to use my pocket knife on you? Is that it?”

“That’s a little too kinky for me, actually, but if that changes at any point, I do promise, Swan, you’ll be the very first to know.”

With a glare, Emma reaches for her back pocket. There’s something so satisfying about the way Jones lifts both his hands in surrender at her renewed threat.

“Alright, Swan, I yield,” he laughs. “Might be best to add another drink onto what I owe you, call it an apology.”

“Make it something dark and strong and you’re on.”

Ruby is, by all appearances, more than fine behind the bar at the Den of Thieves - at least if the tip jar is any indicator. Her low cut blouse and that particular sway of her hips probably helps, but Ruby is naturally predisposed to this kind of thing, friendly and just a little bit flirty and a people person in her very core in a way Emma could never manage. The peppy brunette gives no indication of recognizing either Emma or Killian as she serves them, but their drinks, even for being simple, are prepared and delivered in record time, along with a basket of onion rings a few minutes later than Emma never even had to ask for.

“So,” Killian says once they’ve nearly finished their first drinks - rum for him, bourbon for her - and put in an order for a basket of wings, tucking his hands jauntily beneath his chin. “Tell me about yourself.”

“This isn’t a real date, Jones,” Emma quips back, draining her glass and signalling a Ruby for a refill. “Sorry to break it to you, but that touchy feely business back at the gallery? All for show.”

Killian clutches at his chest dramatically. “Break a man’s heart, why don’t you, Swan?”

Emma just shrugs, reaching for another onion ring. No real way to respond to that, and no real need, either.

“But really, Swan. Tell me something.”

“Well, I’m a Scorpio, I like long walks on the beach, and I’m just looking for that perfect partner in crime, you know?” Emma replies, purposefully pitching her voice high and giggly.

“Oh, now that was funny, love. Partner in crime - I see what you did there.”

“I couldn’t possibly begin to understand what you mean.” Batting her eyelashes really sells the effect, in Emma’s opinion.

“Picture of innocence, truly.”

“That’s me.” Emma quickly nods her thanks as one of Robin’s regular staff deposits their wings platter, picking up and twirling a saucy drumette between her fingers. “Why do you want to know.”

“I don’t know,” Killian shrugs, reaching for his own bite. “As long as we’re working together, I figured it’d be nice to get to know each other. We don’t have to, I suppose, but I thought it might be preferable to sitting in silence.”

“What, 20 Questions then?”

“Aye. I’ll even let you go first.”

“You’re the one who wanted to play.”

“Yes, but I’m also a gentleman. Ask your questions, Swan.”

“Fine.” The problem is, Emma doesn’t really know what she wants to ask. But the silence sits there, complete with an expectant look on Jones’ face, and she finally settles on a cop-out of a question. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Unexpected choice of question. I like it. Blue grey, like the ocean on a windy day. Pancakes, waffles, or French toast?”

“Oh, and you said I picked something unexpected. Pancakes. With chocolate chips and whipped cream. Fantasy heist?”

“Some old sailing ship. Really embrace the pirate vibe. Any hobbies?”

Emma looks at him skeptically. “Does art theft not count?”

“Fair enough,” he laughs. It’s a nice sound, not that she’s paying attention. “Back to you.”

“Dream trip?”

“Someplace ancient. Maybe Greece. Ask me again next week and I’ll tell you something different. How do you take your coffee?”

“This feels like some kind of sly come-on,” Emma comments wryly.

“And that feels like avoidance. Answer the question, Swan.”

“Fine. I take it in the form of hot chocolate. With cinnamon. If I need the caffeine I’ll shotgun a Red Bull or something instead.”

“Red Bull? That’s disgusting, Swan.”

“That’s effective. And it’s my turn to ask a question.”

“So ask it.”

She pauses just a moment before diving in. “How did you find your way into this business?” Even as Emma speaks the words, she knows this is what they’ve been leading up to - why he, a man who should be able to make a respectable living, has wound up here, trafficking stolen goods. It doesn’t make sense, even if he is excellent at his job.

“Ah.” Killian’s smile is visibly strained as his head bows to address the table instead of Emma’s face. “It’s not a particularly noble story, I’m afraid.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Emma rushes to assure him. “I know when you suggested this game you didn’t think that —”

“It’s fine, Swan, really. I was never some knight in shining armor anyways.” He knocks back the rest of his drink quickly and signals for another. “I was actually in the Royal Navy for a stretch. Joined up with my brother.”

“That… actually makes sense. How’d a nice Navy boy turn to the life of crime?”

“Lost my brother, lost my hand. Was left with… pretty much nothing, really.” He jiggles the empty glass like a nervous habit, making the remaining ice cubes click softly together. “Found myself very at ends. And then, Will Scarlet sauntered back into my life, needed help.”

“Wait - Will Scarlet?” Emma should let him finish the story, but she knows that name. Fuck, she’s worked with that name before. “You know Will Scarlet?”

“Aye. Grew up together, actually, though we took very different paths after graduation. I take it you know him as well?”

“Pickpocket and thief? Kind of an asshole?”

“Oh, an absolute right bastard when he wants to be. Which he does, nine times out of ten. But he’s a loyal friend, and when I was drinking my benefits away at any pub I could find, not much caring whether I lived or died, he came to me and told me he needed help. Someone charming enough to help him get a good price on one of his larger pulls. And it just kind of… spiraled from there. Half of dealing in stolen goods is charm, you know. Charm enough to talk a price up or down, or convince a buyer that there’s absolutely no way a purchase can ever be traced back to them even when you know you can’t promise it. It’s a good fit for, if not the one I anticipated when I first joined up, fresh out of school. What about you, though?” he asks, quickly changing the subject. “How’d a lovely young lady like you embrace the life of crime?”

This isn’t really a story Emma likes to tell; Regina only weaseled it out of her after several years and quite a lot of tequila. But it seems like something she should tell Killian - tit for tat, and all that. Besides, he bared his soul to her, and all because she asked; it’s only right that she do the same.

“It was probably inevitable, one way or another,” she admits. “I, uh… I grew up alone. No parents, ward of the state, blah blah blah. A couple of prospective adoptions that didn’t happen when I was little and then a whole chain of temporary group homes. Until…”

“Until?” Killian gently prompts when Emma doesn’t pick back up immediately.

“Until I ran away from the umpteenth foster home or group home - I honestly don’t remember which - and David caught me trying to shoplift from a gas station.”

“Ah. The infamous brother.”

“The very one,” Emma agrees. “Who you obviously know now isn’t my real brother. But he was… he kind of took me under his wing, you know? In a way I didn’t expect at 15. His father was a big name in certain circles - less than legal circles. Robert Nolan. Infamous for faking his own death a couple times. And they took me in - David and Robert and his wife, Ruth. Turns out angels or saints or whatever the fuck you want to call them don’t necessarily live on the right side of the law. Robert taught me to pick my first lock, and, well, the rest was history, as the mysterious they always say.”

“That’s nice, in a larcenous kind of way.”

“It was. Is? Robert died, for real this time, a few years back. Ruth’s still around, though. Made sure to come visit me in prison, even when I told her to stay away. Moms, I guess.”

“And your brother? He didn’t…”

“Wind up dead or behind bars?” Emma completes. “No. Though he might as well have. David was the safe-cracker on the east coast for a while, but he retired.”

“No shit?”

“None to speak of. Met a schoolteacher, got married, moved out to Maine. They’ve got an honest-to-God farm, with sheep and a tractor and… other farm things that I never want to know about.”

“Different strokes, I suppose.”

“Or something. I’m just happy he’s happy. Maybe when this is over I’ll drop in for a visit. Try my hand at gathering eggs or something.”

“I’m sure he’d like that,” Killian smiles. “Especially if you haven’t seen each other in years.”

“Yeah, well, if he doesn’t, too bad. He’s the one who adopted me, not the other way ‘round,” she comments, raising her glass in a mock salute. She likes the way it makes him laugh - though that might just be the bourbon talking. “I think it’s time for… literally any other question, honestly. Tell me about the pirate fixation.”

Gratefully, Killian lets her change the subject. “Ah. Well, you see, when I was a young boy, my brother read me Peter Pan…”

———

It’s just a drink. Well, several drinks, and a basket of onion rings and a wing platter. But it somehow makes Killian a person, a person Emma could actually like, instead of some man with an attitude she didn’t want on her team at the beginning of all of this. She knows a thing or two about defense mechanisms and emotional armor anyways.

“Oh, please tell me that you and Jones just buried the proverbial hatchet and not the euphemistic one,” Regina groans after Killian hands Emma a coffee cup with a wink the next morning. A large hot chocolate. With a healthy sprinkle of cinnamon on the top.

Seems he might have listened, just a bit.

“Okay, first of all, the euphemistic hatchet is not a thing. Like, that’s not a phrase. And if it was, I don’t think Jones needs that kind of ego boost. We’d never hear the end of it,” Emma argues.

“None of this sounds like a denial.”

“Well, it is. Because - second of all - we did not have sex. Which is the phrase real adults use.”

“Calling yourself a real adult undermines the spirit of the thing.”

Emma flips her off. It’s earned.

“Fine. You didn’t have sex. So this is all just… you suddenly discovering a new and more forgiving side of yourself?”

“Well, you know, I figured he was less insufferable than you, Reg, and it was all sunshine and roses from there.”

“Fair enough.” Regina holds out her own coffee cup - doubtless filled with some disgusting double shot concoction she ordered herself from an uppity coffee shop - to tap against Emma’s. “I’m just glad to see you two getting along better. Though maybe we could hear it less.”

“I make no promises.”

Across the room, Killian meets her eyes with a smile from where he’s listening to something Tink is saying, and Emma can’t help but smile back. They would have managed this job even if Killian and her hadn’t come to this agreement (detente, he’d probably say), but she can’t deny this makes things easier.

Alright, Swan? he mouths from across the room, smiling even wider when she nods in return.

It’s just drinks, and it’s just coffee - but it’s a start.

#captain swan #cs ff #cs fanfiction #captain swan ff #Swan's Seven #my writing #Ocean's 8 AU #in which the banter is truly off the chart

52 notes · View notes