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heart-eye-harrington · 5 years ago

Text

loverboy

Request: hi! could you write steve x fem!reader where she is waiting for him come back from his date and realizes how much she likes him? pls and thank u

Summary: After the fall of King Steve, you find yourself spending more time with your childhood friend. Once you’ve helped him get ready for a date and you’re patiently awaiting his return, you have a revelation

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: a curse word or two and a jizz joke (sorry) but pure fluff!!

Author’s Note: Hi! I was so inspired to do this request! I hope you like it! ♡

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The roads of Hawkins seem to quiet with the setting sun. The only constant sounds are the clicking of your bike chain and the rustling of the stuff in your basket. You hum the streets a quite serenade, simply letting the song stuck in your head spill out into the cooling air.

Excitement builds as you inch closer to your destination, manifesting in a light-hearted giggle. You didn’t realize how fast you were going till you came to a screeching stop, nearly leaving skid marks on his driveway. You hit your kickstand and grab the content of your basket, holding it close to your chest.

You felt the same feeling knocking on Steve’s door today as you did that first day all those years ago. With each time you came to the cherry red door, another butterfly was added to the frenzy in your stomach. You never thought anything of it, just the joy of chasing nostalgia. Everything about seeing Steve was so light, so easy, so fun. You squeeze the boxes closer to your chest in an effort to calm the storm inside.

The door opens, revealing a stressed Steve. The moment he realizes who was on the other side, it’s as if you’re his reminder to breathe, to relax.

“Hey” he sighs

“Hey” you return, a small reassuring smile shinning his way. He steps out of the way, the two of you falling into your acknowledged routine that was almost second nature. The large number of treasures in your arms cause you to waddle up the stairs and Steve to nearly double over in laughter before gesturing for you to give him something to lighten your load. You squint your eyes in an attempt to act mad at him, but soon enough the two of you are laughing all the way to his room.

Once inside, you dump everything on his bed, including yourself. You hold out the box meant for him. Steve’s lost in his mirror, raking his hand through his hair a million times, only pulled from his nervous trance by you shaking the box. His head whips around, eyes landing on the object in your hand.

“Nutter Butters?” his lips pulling into a confused smile

“C’mon, that one-time in middle school? We went to the 7/11 and you laughed for 20 minutes after I put my hand over the name so it would only say nut.” you shake your head at the memory. Oh to be immature and laughing at stupid jizz jokes. Back before Hawkins High morphed Steve into someone recognizable. Luckily, that was long gone. After seeing the cookies at the store, you knew you needed to get them for him.

“Thank you” He looks down at the box, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips. You can’t help but mirror his actions, warmth filling your chest. Before you get too lost in the moment, you bring your attention back to the objects sprawled across Steve’s comforter. Your eyes land on the prize, grinning before calling for Steve again.

“Remember how I said I was going to the thrift store yesterday?”

“Yeah?” his response is muffled from inside his closet, ruffling through his clothes.

“Well, I found this!” you hold up your diamond in the rough. Steve pops his head out, brows furrowing as he tried to see what it was.

“It’s a portable radio! I think it’s from the 70s or something. Wanna test it out?” You shake in gently, inviting him to play into your excitement. He didn’t need much coaxing, grabbing it out of your hands and placing it on his dresser. He sets it to his favorite radio station.

♫ Ooh love ooh loverboy

What're you doin' tonight, hey boy

Set my alarm, turn on my charm

That's because I'm a good old-fashioned lover boy ♫

Freddie Mercury’s voice crackles through the old radio. You both raise your hands in victory, overjoyed that your thrift find actually worked. You keep your arms raised as you dance to the song, Steve opting to use his hips. The music moves him around the room, casually grabbing things he needed for his night out.

You had to admit you were a bit upset when he told you he had a date planned during your weekly hangout, but you couldn’t be mad when he pleaded that you come over and help him beforehand.

After the fall of King Steve, you were there to pick up the fallen pieces. You were there, hammer and chisel in hand, to break away the tough outer shell to reveal what was always inside. Nothing hurt you more than seeing Steve lose himself. He was never truly lost, he just needed to find himself again. He went to you, who had been by his side for so long, who he trusted to teach him again. You, of course, welcomed him with open arms. You started seeing each other more often. Steve said just being with you revived his spirit.

While his past persona was in the rearview mirror, Steve feared it may be closer than it appeared. He was making strides to better himself and really wanted this date to go well. Panicking, he called you. He didn’t even realize he’d done it until he heard your soothing voice through the receiver. You were his safe place, a tried and true source of comfort.

“So, where you gonna take the lucky lady?” Steve could see you wiggle your eyebrows through the reflection in the mirror.

“I’m picking her up soon to see a movie.” he glanced at his keys, sighing in relief that they were still on his dresser and hadn’t run off to hide.

“Hm, respectable”

“Yup”

“Gonna buy popcorn?”

“And milk duds”

“Steve, please don’t put the milk duds on top of the popcorn until you know she’ll like that too.” You groan, knowing that if you didn’t say something Steve would have created his treat without a second thought.

“You know it’s better that way! Sweet AND salty in a single bite!” He gets more flustered than you’d expect.

“While I agree with the genius that is your franken-food, I’m not sure everyone is ready for that.” Neither of you can help the fit of giggles. The air hangs heavy the moment the laughter ends, both of you realizing what he’s about to do. He looks at his watch and brings his hand down to smooth out his shirt. Desperate to pop the silence in the room, Steve starts,

“You’re more than welcome to stay if you want, but, ya know, don’t feel obligated.” It surprised you to see how shy he got. It wasn’t the first time you’d stayed late at his house, but it would be the first time waiting for him after a date.

“I think I’ll stay, if that’s fine with you. I wanna hear all about it! But, if you plan on bringing her back here, I’m gonna-”

“Oh god, no. I mean...I don’t think anything like that’s gonna happen after a first date.”

“Alright loverboy” you quip, sending a faint blush to Steve’s cheeks. He quickly turns his back to you, taking one final look in the mirror. With one last deep breath, eyes screwed shut, he grabs his keys and makes his way to the door. Right as he’s about to leave his room, he turns to you.

“You sure you’re gonna be ok?” you blush at the small gesture, him making sure you would be okay before leaving.

“You’re not the only one who’s gonna have an evening of romance” you hold up a copy of The Princess Bride you borrowed from the library. “Westley will keep me company”

“Oh, I’m jealous”

“You should be” soft laughter fills the room, Steve bowing his head and gently shaking it. He lifts it, taking one last look at you.

“Wish me luck.”

“I would, but you don’t need it. I’ll be here when you get back. Have fun.” with your signature smile beaming at him, he returns it and leaves, defined with the soft click of the door.

You’re left alone in his room, your book and radio keeping you company. As time went on, you became more and more engrossed in the world on the pages. You read of Buttercup’s infatuation with the handsome farmboy Westley and her denial of her obvious feelings for him. Who could blame her? His hazel eyes were a melt of autumn tones, friendly and inviting. He had deep brown hair that made a soft mess upon his head. Freckles dotted his shoulders before climbing to his neck, creating constellations across his skin she wished to trace.

“As you wish” Westly spoke, his blue eyes shining with the words. You squint, re-reading the last passage. Blue eyes? No no no, he had hazel eyes, right? You turn back and scan the pages. Eyes like the sea before a storm, pale blonde hair. Where the hell did you get hazel eyes and brown hair? You look up from your book and remember where you were.

Shit

Why were you envisioning Steve as the romantic lead in your book? Maybe they weren’t so different, both kind, talented, motivated, and eager to learn everything the world had to offer.

You snap your book closed, effectively stopping your train of thought before it goes off the rails and finds something you weren’t ready for. Groaning at the knowledge that you couldn’t pick your book up again after that, you flop onto Steve’s bed. Closing your eyes, you focus on the radio to try and chase those thoughts from your head.

That proved to be no help, as every love song was suddenly about Steve. Maybe they always had been, but you never wanted to admit it. No matter the artist, Elton John, The Police, Queen, U2, The Cars, ABBA, Prince, it was about him.

Your heart seemed to know long before your head, patiently waiting for the letter it sent which apparently got lost in the mail. Once your brain had caught up, it started spinning. You’re in love with your best friend. Your best friend, who happens to be on a date with another girl.

With an exhausted sigh, you grab one of the pillows from the top of his bed and pull it close to your chest. You close your eyes, taking him the familiar scent of hairspray and something so distinctly Steve. A little smile creeps to your face as your drift off, escaping your revelation and giving in to sleep’s warm embrace.

⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★

“Hey I’m-” Steve stops his waltz into his room at the sight before him. You’re curled up on his bed, chest softly rising and falling. Your face is smushed into his pillow, which is wrapped in your arms. Your dissolved hair was sticking every which way, masking your sleep softened features. A few of them pop through, and Steve can’t help the tugging of his lips. Once he realizes he’s been staring, he diverts his focus to something else. The first thing he picks up on is the music crackling from your radio

♫ I can't fight this feeling any longer

And yet I'm still afraid to let it flow

What started out as friendship has grown stronger

I only wish I had the strength to let it show ♫

He sighed, turning to his closet to put on a soft tee and flannel pants to sleep in. He’s half tempted to wake you, but seeing you had stolen one of his sweatshirts he changes his mind, knowing you’re comfortable and don’t need a change of clothes. He climbs into bed with you, keeping enough distance as to not make things uncomfortable.

All his anxieties melt when you rustle, gently opening your eyes, and upon seeing him return, scootch in closer to him. With a sleepy chuckle, you both fall into a deep blissful sleep, music still pouring from the antique on his dresser.

♫'Cause I feel so secure when we're together ♫

#steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington request #steve harrington x reader

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onceshy-twicebitten · 5 years ago

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Male reader x Jasper Hale.

Plot Line: The reader’s lived in Forks his whole life. The Cullens show up and he’s afraid to admit his crush on none other than Jasper Hale. His friends however, have a plan to let Jasper know how much their friend swoons over him. Who knows? Maybe Jasper might feel undeniably flattered.

In this fanfiction Alice and Jasper are just best friends. Jasper is bisexual. Fake names have been made for the reader’s friends.

Friend names include: Jane and Westley (Wes)

TW: cursing, a lot of teenage embarrassment, and fluff.

Words: 1,626

———

And then, in the midst of it all, I saw your eyes. To fall is to accept, and to be damned is to reject. Yet in the end, no matter what I may feel or see, damned is all I am to be.

There was a long pause of silence. Your friend, Jane, looked at you and gave a soft smile. “Y/N... you’re really good at poetry but that’s just depressing.”

A loud snort came from your left. You turned your head to see Wes waving his hand. “Sorry bro, but that was absolute shit. Sad poetry about how much you like the guy? Scared of rejection? What are you a 13 year old girl?”

“Hey! I take offense to that,” Jane snapped back. She pulled her pony tail out, starting to redo it. “Listen, I think it’s sweet that you like him so much. However, I have to agree with Westley. Being upset about it isn’t going to help you and you know it.” They were right. You didn’t want them to be, but they were. Letting out a sigh, you let your head drop to the lunchroom table.

“Just end me now,” you complained, your voice muffled by the table.

“Y/N... come on. Pick your head up. How about after school we can all get online and play video games? I bombed the last round of Call of Duty,” Jane said. Wes laughed again. “Bombed it?! You did worse in that last round than I do in English!”

Then they started to bicker. You let out a huff of air, sitting up. You looked down at your depressive poetry book. It was filled with poems about how much you liked Jasper Hale. One of the many members of the ‘Cullen Clan’ as the town called them. They just moved here and you couldn’t get Jasper out of your mind. On the first day of school you tripped in the halls, dropping your books everywhere. You didn’t think that the most handsome, polite, and chivalrous man would come to your aide... but he did.

Your eyes met and suddenly you were in love. Well, you didn’t say you were in love until three months later, in the middle of November. Thanksgiving break was coming up, and you were excited to not have to stop yourself from staring at his gorgeous face.

For a split second, you felt eyes on you. You turned around and scanned the lunch room... but no one was looking at you. You couldn’t stop yourself from glancing at Jasper and the rest of his siblings. Damn. His hair had gotten longer.

That’s when the bell rang. You quickly stood up, almost stumbling when you did. In a rush, you grabbed your books and waved goodbye to your friends. You’d talk to them after school.

***

The second you got home, you made your way to your room. Dropping off your bookbag to procrastinate your math homework, you turned on your console. Jane and Wes were already online as if they ran home at the speed of light. Well, Wes probably did. God he was such an idiot.

You turned on your headset and joined their party invite. “Hey guys-“

“Y/N! WE HAVE AN IDEA.” Oh god. They said that in unison.

“What’s your idea...” you asked, rather wearily. You felt your heartrate slightly pick up at the thought of whatever they were thinking. You knew it wasn’t going to be good. Whenever those two conspired, chaos seemed to follow.

“Okay, so Wes and I were talking-“

“And Jane and I thought-“

“We could just ask Jasper out for you.”

“WHAT.”

‘Okay. No. No. Absolutely not. Hell no. Not in a million fucking years. No. Not at all. God no. Please no.’ It took Wes clearing his throat for you to realize you said all that out loud .

“Guys... please don’t. I’m already embarrassed enough about it, you know? I don’t need you two screwing this up for me and making me out to be a fool in front of the guy I like!” You had a point. They could completely ruin your reputation and embarrass the hell out of you in front of the whole school. Oh god. “How would you do it?”

Jane laughed over the com. “We were thinking we could just put a letter in his locker. No, you won’t get to read it. No, it won’t be embarrassing. Something short and sweet. Right, Wes?” Wes groaned. “Noooo. We gotta make it romantic. Endearing. Full on flattery that Jasper couldn’t do anything accept ask Y/n out! ‘Oh my dear Jasper, how I’ve thought of you many a moon. Like a Romeo without a Juliet, I long for you. Your smile and glowing eyes, how I dream of them. Oh won’t you be mine?!’”

“WES.”

Your cheeks burned red. You couldn’t help it! He was embarrassing the shit out of you! “So help me God if you actually write any of that down-“ you gritted your teeth, your face a deep red. You took the headset off, pressing the power button. Nope. Can’t do it. Taking in a deep breath, you turned your headset back on, putting it back over your head. Wes was apologizing, swearing that he and Jane wouldn’t actually pull anything like that.

***

You dreaded this. More than dreaded this. You despised it. Loathed it. You wanted nothing to do with it. The closer you got to school, the more mortified you started to feel. Nothing had even happened yet. Just the thought of Jane getting to school early and putting a letter in his locker... oh god...

When you got to school, you could see The Cullens pulling up. You glanced at their cars as Jasper stepped out. He instantly looked at you. SHIT.

You turned your head as fast as you could, rushing into the building. ‘Nope. No. Not happening. Hell to the no. Jesus christ Jane- why did you have to do this to me you bitch. What if I become too embarrassed that I go speechless? What if I get rejected? Then what? I go home and cry about it like the scared little boy Wes thinks I am about this? Man. So what if I cry? Okay. Guys cry all the time. Maybe not over rejected crushes but- but whatever! Ugh!’

Your thoughts ran absolutely rampant. You couldn’t stop them. You rushed to your locker and started to unpack your bag. Grab your books. All of them? Yup. No stopping at your locker today no matter how heavy the load is. Pencil pouch? Yup. Got it. Water bottle-

“Y/N?”

Oh fuck. Oh shit. Oh no. God please no. You turned to see Jasper and your hands became sweaty. Suddenly all of your books slipped out of your hands and landed on your feet.

“Fuck!” You shouted, stumbling slightly back. You felt a strong hand steady you, and Jasper was looking at you with a worried gaze.

“Are you okay?” He asked, reaching down to pick your books up. Okay maybe he didn’t read the note and if he did dropping the books distracted him enough-

“I... read the note in my locker,” he said. FUCK. “And... I’m flattered.” What.

Jasper had this small smile on his face, holding out your history textbook to you. “I assumed you had at least a slight crush on me by now. I’ve... caught you staring. Though, I guess I was staring as well in those cases.”

Okay. What. This is not- this is extremely different from what you thought was going to happen. Was he... confessing?

“I truly am flattered that you’d write something so nice-“

“It wasn’t me!” You cut him off, your cheeks slowly turning a deep shade of red. “I- I um- my friend Jane she wrote it. Her and my other friend Westley knew that I liked you and they wrote the note together... somewhat. So I’d stop... avoiding you. And my feelings. I guess.”

Jasper smiled. Oh. He was uh. He was smiling. Okay. Okay that’s a good thing- right?

You couldn’t help but smile back. You took the history book from him and let out a nervous laugh. “I’m... so sorry if they wrote something absured.”

“No. It wasn’t anything bad. You don’t have to worry about what was written. However... I must admit, I thought you were... well, attractive. When we met on the first day. I wanted to let you know that I’d love to take you out on a date.”

He still had that soft smile. Those gorgeous eyes... he was so handsome. His voice was so soft, and in a few words you could just hear the southern accent. Your stomach turned and your heart skipped a few beats.

“I um... I- I would love that. I’m- I’m actually free tonight-“

“Perfect. How about I pick you up at six?”

Oh. OH. You looked away from his eyes, smiling like an idiot. “Six... six works. Yeah.” You glanced back up, seeing he was holding another book of yours. Your poetry book. Your eyes went wide as he handed it to you.

“Alright. I’ll see you at six then, okay darlin’? And... you don’t have to be afraid to talk to me. My siblings aren’t as mean as they look. I promise.” The bell rang. He waved goodbye to you, turned around, and started to walk away.

Holy shit. Jasper Hale just asked you out. You have a date with him tonight! You screamed in your head, quickly scrambling for the things you needed. Slamming your locker shut, you spun on your heel and headed to your first class. So maybe you could accept this. Your feelings for Jasper. And... maybe you could fall in love. Just this once.

———

Hi! So I hope you liked this. I’m sort of planning on writing Jaspers version of this, and maybe how the date goes! If this gets popular enough I 100% will!

#twilight #x male reader #jasper hale #jasper hale x reader #jasper hale x male!reader #twilight the movies #twilight breaking dawn #twilight eclipse #twilight new moon #the cullens #twilight fanfiction #twilight fluff #twilight fandom

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hardcoreprocess · 5 years ago

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dirk strider as westley (princess bride) whooo is his buttercup and WHO gets cucked as humperdink

Princess Bride has so much potential. My biggest qualm is that 1. the book is objectively horrible, 2. the film was not written by queer people and you can tell. Westley is very condescending to his true love and makes a point to act like she's infantile. We can do better.

Dirk is a lowly farm worker, Roxy the daughter of a family with means that pays him, as it always starts. They fuck like absolute rabbits. It's insane. They're off their shits about it, taking to haylofts and hiding away in her bedroom to consummate their affections. Dirk sails off to find fortune enough to take her hand, writing Roxy as often as he can. But news comes that his ship was attacked by the Sea Witch Mindfang, who never leaves survivors. Dirk is presumed dead. His letters stop.

Now, Roxy's mother has never approved of her beau, for multiple reasons. She knows the Heir to the Throne has his eye on Roxy, and so when Dirk's letters begin to arrive again? She keeps them from her daughter. In her grief, Roxy has begun to dress in black, mourning and refusing any courting at all. But the Heir has his eye on her, and when Roxy only dismisses him lightly, John proposes.

Sure that her life is over now that Dirk is dead, she agrees. But in her travels to the Heir, she's tragically kidnapped by a band of thieves. A spiteful, blind vigilante named Terezi commands a towering giant called Karkat and a disgraced foreign knight called Dave. The latter are sympathetic to Roxy's plight, her loss of love and her new life of wasting away in a castle. Seeking to console her, Dave confesses that he hunts for a six-fingered man that killed his father, a great warrior knight that taught him every he knows now.

Perhaps Roxy kisses on the giant and knight a little, unbeknownst to Terezi. She's in mourning, and she hasn't laid a hand on anyone since news of Dirk's demise. It's a startle to realize they're being followed by a single-man ship, staffed by a man in a foreign mask that speaks with a low rasp and dresses in all black. He renders Dave unconscious after a fair swordfight, puts the giant Karkat to sleep, and tricks the sharp-nosed Terezi into drinking poison by spiking the two glasses of wine presented.

He's too familiar. Roxy's chest is tight and leaping with wanting to believe that it is. She knows that shape, the way his hands hover at her waist a little too long. The masked man asks, when she's defiantly stared into the eyes of his mask a little too long, "Are you Roxanne Lalonde?" It can't be him. He can't be alive, because Dirk would throw himself into her arms immediately. (Never suspecting that he believes she's moved on from him, having never replied to his letter.)

"Yes. What is it to you, stranger?"

Dirk's heart breaks in two at the firm demand. She's forgotten him. He swallows his hurt and elects to let her be cruel to him, because he will deliver her home safely, then vanish from her life. "...I knew Diedrich," he starts, "—Dirk. He begged that I look after your safety until he returned."

She knows now. That's plain enough. Dirk is dead and he, selfless bastard that he is, arranged her safety in his absence. Roxy cries and the mystery man holds her firmly through her tears. Her beloved is never coming home, never coming back to her, and the familiarity is this man having known Dirk intimately enough to be entrusted with her. How is that fair? How is it fair to lose him all over again?

TO BE CONTINUED...?

#homesmut #answer process #HS Princess Bride AU #secret identity #pining #betrothal #dirk x roxy #dave x roxy #karkat x roxy #roxy x john #hcp roxy lalonde #hcp alpha mom lalonde #hcp dirk strider #hcp dave strider #hcp karkat vantas #hcp terezi pyrope #hcp john egbert #blacklist

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kyber-kisses · 5 years ago

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As You Wish

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: the reader is shocked to discover one of Deans favorite movies ( though he would normally never admit it) is the Princess Bride.

Warnings: this one is so incredibly cheesy that I think it needed to be considered a warning, so here it is.

A/n: I was watching the Princess Bride earlier and this came to mind when I was planning some one shots. Hope you guys like it!

“ Are you kidding me?!” Your voice echoed throughout the entirety of the bunker as you let out a shriek.The sudden burst of noise sending both Sam and Jack sitting upright in their chairs, eyes wide with confusion.

“What was that?” Jack looking to Sam for an answer, who only shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m not entirely sure.” He’s eyes moving towards the direction of your voice.

A moment later your figure came stomping up the steps of the library, wide eyed and practically radiating energy. Dean following suit a few moments later, a look of annoyance on his features.

“My whole life has been a lie!” You shouted, throwing your hands up in the air.

“Y/n, would you calm down? It’s not that big of a deal.” Dean sighed, sinking into the vacant chair next to his brother.

Your eyes widened again, as you gaped at him before slamming your hands down on the table, making everyone jump. “Not a big deal?!” You swiveled your head towards Sam and then Jack, only to see the still confused and slightly scared expressions on their faces. “ Can you believe this man?” You breathed, locking eyes with Dean again.

Sam leaned back suddenly, slamming the book in front of him shut. “ OK, can you please fill us in on what the hell is going on?” He questioned, eyes darting back and forth between you and his brother.

Dean opened his mouth to start, but you quickly held up a hand, silencing him. “ I literally just discovered that one of your brothers favorite movies is The Princess Bride! How did I not know that?!” You yelled again, a fire blazing in your eyes.

Sam was taken back, his eyebrows furrowed together but a highly amused smirk on his lips. “ Have you really not noticed how often he quotes that movie?”

Your eyes widened as you looked over at Dean, who gave you a nod and a look that screamed It was pretty obvious sweetheart.

“Of course I noticed! But I just thought that was Dean being Dean. To be fair they were really subtle quotes.” You whined, pulling out a chair next to Jack and defeatedly falling into it. You let your head fall onto the table as your mind still processed the fact that you had known Dean since you were 14, and yet never knew what his favorite movie was. It was a shock to say the least.

“Good job Dean, look you broke her.” Sam's voice scolding his brother. Jacks voice pulled you from your defeated position.

“I’m sorry, but what is The Princess Bride?” You could feel your eyes widening to the size of saucers as you whipped around to look at the nephilim, realization kicking in that Jack had never seen it.

You then glanced over at Dean, who shared the same expression as you.

“What’s the Princess Bride? Well, it’s only one of the greatest movies ever created.” You nodded. “I mean, it’s got bandits, Princesses, massive rodents!” You sighed, shaking your head in disbelief. “And Westley.” At this point you were practically swooning, leaning back in your chair.

You were completely oblivious to the look of surprise on Deans face, which was mixed with what could only be described as Jealousy.

Sam let out an amused chuckle as he looked over at you and then his brother. “ You got a crush on Westley Y/n?” He mused.

You let out a huff before nodding, a light smirk on your face. “ Are you kidding me? Westley was my first love.” You placed a hand on your heart. “He was my dream man.” You sighed, leaning back further into your chair. “ when I was younger I wanted him to ride in on a white horse and whisk me off into the sunset.”

Dean could feel a blush creeping up his cheeks as you talked, which only made him duck his head down, trying to distract himself by picking at the side of the table. He wanted to be your hero. God he wanted to be your hero more than anything, and for some reason he was jealous over a fictional character.

“Dean, are you alright?” Your voice pulling him from his thoughts. He cleared his throat, nodding his head.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Just thinking of going on a beer run.”

“Cool! I’ll go with you! We can go rent the Princess Bride so Jack can watch it. We can make it a movie night!” You exclaimed, popping up out of your chair in excitement.

Dean couldn’t figure out if he was more excited or nervous about going with you. He was never nervous around woman, so why the hell was he acting like this? “ Sounds good to me.”he sighed, pushing himself up.

* * * *

Half an hour later You and Dean found yourselves walking out of the store with way more items than you planned on buying. Just beer and the DVD turned to Just beer, the DVD, two boxes of microwave popcorn, several bags of candy, and an apple pie Dean had promised to split with you.

You juggled the items as Dean fished through his pockets in search of the keys. You watched with a smile as the two of you continued your walk down the street towards where Baby was parked.

“Dean, are you sure you’re okay?”

Dean flipped through his keys, trying to avoid your eyes. “ I’m telling you I’m fine! Why do you keep asking?” You raised an eyebrow as you watched him continue to look for the correct key.

“It’s the square-“ you began.

“It’s the square one I know.” Dean breathed, finally finding it and jamming it into the door, unlocking the car for you.

Dean helped you load the bags into the back seat, every once in awhile letting his eyes wander to your face. God, you were beautiful.

“Okay why do you keep looking at me?” You questioned, not looking up from your task. Shit, you had caught him.change the topic Dean. He quickly panicked.

“I um— So Westley huh?” He teased, or at least attempted to, looking over the roof of the impala at you. You shot him a death glare, walking around the car to stand next to him.

“I never should have told you that.” You shook your head with a laugh before looking up into the jade eyes of the eldest Winchester.

“I thought it was cute.” He teased again, smiling down at you. You squinted, looking deeper into his eyes. There was something off in the tone of his voice. Was he- was he jealous?

“Dean Winchester are you jealous of my childhood crush on Westley?” You mused, tilting your head as you watched a blush creep across his freckled cheeks.

“Wh-what? No!” He huffed. You smirked, taking a step closer.

“Oh my god. You are!” You pokes his chest with a giggle. “ Dean, he’s a fictional character!” You laughed.

“Okay. Okay alright get your laughs in.” He rolled his eyes, grabbing your wrist.

You fell silent for a moment, taking in this side of Dean. You liked blushy Dean. He was even cuter than normal. “ you know how I said earlier that when I was younger I wanted Westley to whisk me off into the sunset on a white horse?”

“Kind of hard to forget sweetheart.” Dean chuckled, staring into your y/e/c eyes.

“Well I didnt realize it until now, but that did happen.” You smiled, watching Deans eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“Are you high?” He questioned, only making you laugh.

“No! It’s just that my Westley didn’t wield a sword and ride a white stallion, instead he was a flannel wearing idiot who drove a black 67’ impala.” You smiled, watching as Dean pieced it together.

“Are you talking about me? Because I kinda need to make sure since apparently we suck at communication skills.” Dean questioned, pointing a finger at his chest.

“Yes I’m talking about you, you big dummy. You're my Westley.” You rolled your eyes.

You stepped forward, Flinging your arms around his broad shoulders, his arms wrapping around your waist to help steady you.

“Oh, my sweet Westley.” You sighed, carding your fingers through the back of his hair as you watched the blush on his face grow to a deeper red. “Kiss me.”

Deans next words made you smirk, as he went to cup your face in his hands. “ As you wish.”

Pulling his head down to your level, you pressed your lips against his, feeling your body melt as his lips molded to your own. It was just like what you had dreamed about as a little girl. Full of passion, full of heat and adoration. Full of love.

Since the invention of the kiss, there have been only five kisses that have been rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind.

It was so perfect you didn’t want to pull away, and nor did Dean, but the need for air became too great and the two of you parted.

“We- we should probably head back. We do have a movie to watch.” You breathed, looking into his eyes once more.

“Yeah, probably a good idea.” Dean smiled, squeezing your hand in his. “Let’s go home Princess.”

#supernatural #dean winchester #dean x y/n #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #supernatural x reader #supernatural imagine

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justalittlelitnerd · 5 years ago

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Crazy for Loving You by Pippa Grant

What would a woman with as big a personality as Daisy’s do if she believed in love?

I had a feeling I would love this book from the first time it popped up on my FB feed via amazon advertising and it did not disappoint. Basically, it’s the movie Life As We Know It (starring Katherine Heigl and Josh Duhamel, highly recommend), but with billionaires and an ex-marine as the love interest.

Westley Jaeger has learned the hard way to not get involved with single mothers, especially ones out of his league. But when he gets the call that he’s been named co-guardian to Remy, the baby whose nursery he remodeled, he feels he has no choice. Billionaire, party girl Daisy Imogen Carter-Kincaid clearly doesn’t know how to take care of a baby and he trusts her family even less. So when she proposes he help teach her what to do and prove to any judge that she’s a better guardian than Remy’s grandparents, he reluctantly agrees.

I’m writing this post after finishing all four Bluewater Billionaire books (stay tuned for their posts) so I can say that this is definitely my favorite. The fun, big heart of Daisy and the gruff, protective spirit of West make for a cute, but also serious (because the well-being of a baby is involved) romance complete with some wacky twists from Daisy’s family. I would say that this book is safely added to my will re-read when I need a bit of happiness list.

Keep reading for a ton of my favorite quotes!

I have four sisters with zero filter when it comes to relationship advice. My parents taught me manners. The Marines taught me to be a man. And I suddenly feel like that awkward teenager on a string of bad dates again.

She tips her head back and laughs, and fuck me, that happy, rich laughter makes me want to get a hearing aid so I can soak in the sound fully in both ears. She’s curvy and bold and bright, and she’s rendered my balls mute.

Any woman who only wants a man after another woman shows interest in him isn’t a woman that deserves a guy like West.

“I’m not an adult,” I whine to Alessandro while he drives us across the final bridge to my humble abode. “I’m a twelve-year-old with the mental capacity to handle business and the physical capacity to handle alcohol and this desperate need to know that Julienne’s baby is okay. But I have at least seventy-three more years before I qualify as an adult. For the record.”

I’m going to kiss her until she never leaves me hanging and uncertain while she’s being rushed to an emergency room again.

He irons his jeans. I’m simultaneously turned on and appalled, and I’m highly uncomfortable with both reactions.

It’s not her fault I have a fucking hero complex.

She touches my neck again, and fuck. I’m going to kiss her. I’m going to kiss chaos. Disorder. Unpredictability. Because fuck it.

And my blood pressure is hitting the roof at the idea of any jackass coming near Daisy. And by jackass, I basically mean anyone who has any intentions of getting her into bed for any reason. Male. Female. Rich. Poor. Secretly a serial killer. Volunteers for Doctors Without Borders or the Peace Corps. All jackasses who better not lay a fucking finger on her.

We can’t get involved, because when it ends—and it will, because I’m rules and straight lines, and she’s chaos and heart-shaped bubbles floating in the sky—I’ll be facing the same path I’ve walked too painfully before. I can walk away from a woman. I can’t walk away from a kid. Not again. Kids don’t deserve to pay the price for adults not being able to work shit out.

She’s so full of shit. “If you’re not a big enough person to confess to having commitment issues, just say so.” Her cheeks go bright pink, and there’s that overwhelming urge to hug her again. But it’s accompanied by a need to google a therapist for her.

His magic eyes are the color of pissed-off headstrong alpha male with all protective instincts activated, and it’s making that omnipresent pull in my nether regions stronger this morning.

West is my new normal. He’s every moment. And this kiss—it’s different but perfect. It’s a hello, so that’s who you are. It’s a nice to meet you. It’s a yes, actually, I do like you and I could spend all morning kissing you from every angle to learn what you like and what you don’t.

Life isn’t simple. It’s complicated and messy. No matter how much I try to believe that it’s just a big party with a side of hard work to make the partying possible, there’s still heartbreak and tough times and loneliness.

And he doesn’t have anyone taking care of him. He does it himself, because he doesn’t think he needs anyone. His family must want to throttle him on a regular basis. But this is their lucky day. Because I, Daisy Imogen Carter-Kincaid, am going to take care of this man. “You’re going to take Remy from me one day, aren’t you?” he says quietly. A lump rolls up from the bottom of my neck to the top of my throat like it’s chasing Indiana Jones, and I have to swallow hard to get it back down. Westley Jaeger’s body and mind might be made of steel, but his heart is cotton candy. Cotton candy that he’s freely given to a baby that, by all rights, never should’ve been his, but is now firmly settled in his heart.

He needs me. Because I don’t need him. Not to be a second adult in the house. Not to take overnight duty. Not to fix a squeaky hinge or chase cats out of pools. I just want him. So bad I almost can’t breathe at the thought of him not being here.

Because if I have to sleep, I want a pillow. A Daisy pillow. She wordlessly climbs onto the bed with me, one-handedly fluffs a pillow, and then lets me wrap my arms around her legs while she sits with Remy. And then Daisy—party heiress Daisy—sings me pop songs until I fall asleep..

“Why are you doing this to yourself?” His voice is hoarse, and I want to stop and fling myself at him and promise him promises that I can’t keep. Because any other man would ask why are you doing this to me? But not West. Even while I’m throwing daggers at him, he’s asking why I’m hurting myself.

I won’t let them be my easy family. The one that Julienne’s will gave me. They deserve more than me being there simply because they’re convenient, and they deserve better than me. The me I am today, anyway.

I don’t know if she needs me, but I believe she wants me, and there’s more power in want than in need. I’ve never been someone’s choice. I’ve been their convenience.

I want this strong, capable, dependable man who asks for so little for himself to know that there’s someone in this world who will put him first.

#crazy for loving you #pippa grant #bluewater billionaires #daisy and west #romance #romance books #adult romance #love #life as we know it #ex marine #strong women #coparenting #books #book quotes #quotes #book blog #booklr #book post

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joannalannister · 6 years ago

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Hi I was thinking about Jon x Dany and, while I do like them in the show, they had very few scenes where romance was part of the equation. While I 100% think they’ll also get together in the books, I’m a little worried. GRRM isn’t that great with romance. I’m afraid he’ll make Jon x Dany too toxic. Given the romantic history of both characters, I’m having trouble imaging them in a healthy enough relationship. Do you have any thoughts about this? Hope you do : ) Your writing is always awesome!

Thanks for asking me, you’re very kind. As much as I would like to reassure you, I must start by saying that GRRM is never going to write a relationship that everyone is 100% happy with.

“GRRM isn’t that great with romance.” I’m not sure what this means. This isn’t a criticism of you, I know you’re constrained by character limits, but I think we should explore this assertion before proceeding.

What is romance? Wikipedia defines it as “an emotional feeling of love for another person and the courtship behaviors undertaken to express that overall feeling […]. Although […] widely associated with sexual attraction, romantic feelings can exist without expectation of physical consummation”.

I think GRRM is very good at conveying his characters’ emotions, including their feelings of love. For example, when Jon Connington remembers Myles Toyne, it makes my heart ache:

Myles had been possessed of jug ears, a crooked jaw, and the biggest nose that Jon Connington had ever seen. When he smiled at you, though, none of that mattered.

And in the Dunk & Egg stories, Dunk’s innocent and sweet “not too tall for me” captures not only Dunk’s feelings but also the essence of his character.

And this romantic moment is one of my favorites:

And there was one woman, sitting almost at the foot of the third table on the left … the wife of one of the Fossoways, he thought, and heavy with his child. Her delicate beauty was in no way diminished by her belly, nor was her pleasure in the food and frolics. Tyrion watched as her husband fed her morsels off his plate. They drank from the same cup, and would kiss often and unpredictably. Whenever they did, his hand would gently rest upon her stomach, a tender and protective gesture.

And if you want one of the main characters, well, this passage rips my heart in two, knowing what monstrous things Tywin has in store for these two innocent teenagers:

He dreamed of a better place, a snug little cottage by the sunset sea. The walls were lopsided and cracked and the floor had been made of packed earth, but he had always been warm there, even when they let the fire go out. She used to tease me about that, he remembered. I never thought to feed the fire, that had always been a servant’s task. “We have no servants,” she would remind me, and I would say, “You have me, I’m your servant,” [that’s some Princess Bride shit right there with Tyrion Lannister as Westley] and she would say, “A lazy servant. What do they do with lazy servants in Casterly Rock, my lord?” and he would tell her, “They kiss them.” That would always make her giggle. “They do not neither. They beat them, I bet,” she would say, but he would insist, “No, they kiss them, just like this.” He would show her how. “They kiss their fingers first, every one, and they kiss their wrists, yes, and inside their elbows. Then they kiss their funny ears, all our servants have funny ears. Stop laughing! And they kiss their cheeks and they kiss their noses with the little bump in them, there, so, like that, and they kiss their sweet brows and their hair and their lips, their … mmmm … mouths … so …”

They would kiss for hours, and spend whole days doing no more than lolling in bed, listening to the waves, and touching each other. Her body was a wonder to him, and she seemed to find delight in his. Sometimes she would sing to him. I loved a maid as fair as summer, with sunlight in her hair. “I love you, Tyrion,” she would whisper before they went to sleep at night. “I love your lips. I love your voice, and the words you say to me, and how you treat me gentle. I love your face.”

So I don’t think I can agree with you that GRRM isn’t great with romance. Maybe these particular examples didn’t resonate with you, but was there really nothing in the books that tugged at your heart romantically? Not even Renly and Loras’s relationship, from your URL?

But when you say GRRM isn’t great with romance, maybe it’s the romanticized moments you really mean?

For example, in ACOK, during the Battle of the Blackwater, Sandor waits for Sansa in her room, and he holds her at knifepoint until she sings him a song. I think this scene is about trauma more than it’s about romance. Sandor has been dehumanized by the Lannisters for so long, treated as one of their dogs of war, that he’s forgotten what it means to be human and he’s forgotten how to connect with people. So when Sandor tries to form a connection with Sansa, he does so through violence, because that’s the only way he remembers how.

But GRRM doesn’t write that scene romantically in my opinion:

Her throat was dry and tight with fear, and every song she had ever known had fled from her mind. Please don’t kill me, she wanted to scream, please don’t. She could feel him twisting the point, pushing it into her throat, and she almost closed her eyes again, but then she remembered. It was not the song of Florian and Jonquil, but it was a song. Her voice sounded small and thin and tremulous in her ears.

Gentle Mother, font of mercy, save our sons from war, we pray, stay the swords and stay the arrows, let them know a better day.Gentle Mother, strength of women, help our daughters through this fray, soothe the wrath and tame the fury, teach us all a kinder way.

It’s Sansa singing about kindness and gentleness and mercy that reminds Sandor of his humanity.

And of course, later, Sansa romanticizes this event, imagining that Sandor kissed her:

As the boy’s lips touched her own she found herself thinking of another kiss. She could still remember how it felt, when his cruel mouth pressed down on her own. He had come to Sansa in the darkness as green fire filled the sky. He took a song and a kiss, and left me nothing but a bloody cloak.

But that’s how Sansa deals with her trauma, by romanticizing it, by rewriting it as a fairy tale.

Perhaps you would have preferred a stronger condemnation of this event (or similar events) by the text? But I think GRRM knows he has very smart, engaged readers. He doesn’t have to spell it out for us; we know this is a fucked up situation.

Personally it isn’t the romance I consider to be one of GRRM’s problem areas, it’s the physical consummation.

For example, GRRM doesn’t seem to be aware that most of the rapes he wrote didn’t occur during war, so does he even realize that some of the stuff he wrote was rape? I can’t find the interview right now, but I believe GRRM commented on how the show changed Drogo and Dany’s wedding night to a rape scene, and GRRM kind of … distances … himself from that decision … as if GRRM didn’t write Dany being raped repeatedly by Drogo during the early days of her marriage.

Also, the altar sex scene between Jaime and Cersei is still very controversial. (I have a lot of thoughts about Jaime and Cersei’s sex scenes and what they mean for their relationship, but I can’t deal with tumblr’s wank culture right now.)

Also, it’s been over a year and I still haven’t recovered from this:

she walked toward him, her hips shifting forward with each step, as if her pussy were coming to him, the rest of her trailing behind reluctantly.

“as if her pussy were coming to him, the rest of her trailing behind reluctantly”

Someone really should draw this vagina monster because i can’t get it out of my mind.

Anyways.

While I disagree with you about the romance, I will say that GRRM’s sex scenes aren’t always the best. But in GRRM’s defense, some of his sex scenes are quite lovely imo:

Not a happy conversation, maybe, but a human one. Both of us needed someone, and we reached out. Afterwards, I took her back to my cabin, and made love to her as fiercely as I could. Then, the darkness softened, we held each other and talked away the night.

So I would say it’s a mixed bag in terms of the sex scenes.

What will a sex scene between Jon and Dany look like in the books?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Dunno. Will there even be a sex scene between Jon and Dany in the books? I think so, but it’s not a given. We’ll just have to wait and see.

Will Jon x Dany be too toxic in the books?

I don’t find “toxic” to be terribly useful when it comes to evaluating fiction. Again, this isn’t a criticism, so I hope you aren’t offended, but this word for me is too vague, too lacking in complexity, and worst of all, too dichotomizing. Labeling something “toxic” tends to sort ships into easily-defined categories, with the “toxic” ones to be discarded on the midden heap in search of something ~pure~, as if such purity existed outside the blandest coffee shop AU.

The “toxic” label tempts us into a mindset where certain literary relationships are perceived to have no value. “toxic” becomes the end of the conversation for tumblr, when it should be just the beginning. The relationship in Oedipus Rex is certainly “toxic” by any definition of the word, so what is it about this story that has endured for centuries? The fandom police on tumblr wouldn’t be asking that question; they would just ban the story for its lack of moral purity, and we would be all the poorer for it.

(See also: fandom’s discussion of Renly. It’s the end of a conversation, when it should be the beginning.)

So let’s set “toxic” aside.

“Given the romantic history of both characters“ Again, I’m not entirely sure what this means.

Dany was sold to Drogo and raped. Jorah pines for Dany. Daario is … Daario. Hizdahr was a marriage of convenience. But what do these relationships have to do with Jon Snow?

And what does Ygritte have to do with Dany?

I mean, I suppose there is some commonality here. Jon fell in love with Ygritte while he was little more than a captive, and Dany fell in love with Drogo while she basically was Drogo’s captive. So, like … yeah, these weren’t the best situations … but … I don’t think GRRM is trying to write “Guidelines for Relationships and Consent for the College Freshman”.

Like, Jon’s relationship with Ygritte certainly has some consent issues, and these issues are definitely worth talking about, but tumblr uses these issues to shut down the conversation, as if we need to throw this fictional relationship in the garbage and wash our hands of it. As if there’s no value to it. As if GRRM isn’t trying to say something profound about Jon falling in love with a people he was raised to believe were his enemy.

In real life, I hope nobody is in a relationship with consent issues. But in fiction … human beings are flawed, and our relationships are flawed too. Its these flaws that breathe life onto the page.

For me, Jon and Dany’s romantic history is thematically important to ASOIAF as a whole. Each of them have loved and lost, but they haven’t become hardened by it. They remain in the world, and a part of it. Our heroes’ hearts remain open. There is room for many loves in their lives. Contrast this against villainous Tywin, who had room for one love, and one love only, and once it was gone, he denied love. One of the questions I think ASOIAF asks is, how much love do you have to give? And what would you do, for love? Because that isn’t just Jaime’s self-loathing line, it’s a question central to the series.

So, for me, Jon and Dany’s romantic history isn’t an impediment. It’s proof to me that they love, and that they can keep opening themselves to love, even in the worst circumstances. (Because let me tell you, circumstances are about to get much worse.)

“I’m having trouble imaging them in a healthy enough relationship.“

What is a healthy relationship with an Undead Zombie? (Coming into contact with Jon’s rotting flesh can’t be that healthy imo.)

What is a healthy relationship with a messianic girl who made miracles?

What is a healthy relationship, at the end of the world?

I’m sorry, I truly, sincerely hope I am not hurting your feelings, and I am terribly sorry if I have hurt your feelings, but you asked for my thoughts:

For me the question of whether Jon and Dany will have a healthy relationship seems … absurd. Not because “healthy” seems obvious**, but because “healthy” seems irrelevant at the end of the world.

**It’s not obvious, because I don’t even know what “healthy” means in the apocalypse. What is a healthy relationship, at the end of the world? That was not a rhetorical question, because I really, truly don’t know what “healthy” means at the end of the world.

If the world is coming to an end, there are so many things that I would ask that are so much more important to me than “are they healthy?”

Like. Put the show out of your mind. Completely. Pretend you never saw it, because I don’t think Jon and Dany look like that. I don’t think Jon and Dany look like that at all in the books.

I don’t think it’s about Jon and Dany vying for a throne, I don’t even think the Iron Throne is going to exist anymore. I don’t think it’s about stupid wight hunts, I don’t think it’s about fighting over dragonglass, I don’t think it’s about having sex on a boat. I don’t think it’s about fighting the evil Other King, because he doesn’t exist in the books, because in the books, the true enemy is a force of dehumanization. It’s an enemy we’re all capable of becoming, and something we all have to fight.

I don’t think King’s Landing is even going to be there. I think Cersei’s going to be dead. I think the southern half of the continent is largely going to be dead or dying, while the northern half wishes they were. I think GRRM can write a sense of desperation that will have you clawing at your face with one hand while you can’t stop turning the pages with the other.

And I don’t think Jon and Dany get “together” until this desperation grabs us in its lizard-lion jaws and refuses to let us go. I don’t think Jon and Dany really get “together” until they’re beyond the curtain of light, in another world, an Other world, a fairy realm that is grotesquely beautiful and strange and cold. A place of impossible angles that hurt you to think about them, and strange labyrinths where you lose yourself in more ways than one, and terrible, terrible cruelty.

The heroes are alone (possibly with Tyrion) in a place that’s the opposite of the Garden of Eden.

And in this place, I think they’re all struggling to remember their humanity, struggling to remember why they ever came there in the first place, struggling to remember why they should even care. Why should Jon try to save a world that would murder him for helping? Why should Tyrion try to save a world that branded him a monster from birth? Why should a queen try to protect her people, when (I think, speculating wildly from scraps of the show) they reject her as their queen?

”Remember who you are“

When they’ve lost even themselves in this strange place beyond the end of the world … there are so many important questions to ask.

To me, the most important question is, will there be love? Love is our greatest glory, the greatest expression of our humanity, our greatest strength in the face of an alien species that wants to eradicate humanity. Without love, I think Jon and Dany (and Tyrion) are doomed to failure, and the world along with them. Saving the world has to be an act of love. Self-love, and altruistic love, and romantic love, and all sorts.

My next question is, will there be kindness? In Westeros, as in our world, kindness is a rare gem. We each have only so much time, and I hope everyone spreads as much kindness as possible in the time they have, even if that time is only fictional. I hope Jon and Dany will be kind to each other.

Will there be trust? Together, humanity is so much greater than the sum of its parts. I hope Jon and Dany realize this. I hope they find a way to work together. I hope they can rely on each other.

Will they have given it their all? Will they realize their full potential? I hope Jon and Dany get the chance to do everything in their power, and I hope they leave this world without regrets. I hope they rage against the dying of the light.

Will they find comfort in each other, at the end? I don’t think Jon and Dany are making it out of this alive, but I hope they hold each other, and soften the darkness, and talk away the night.

I don’t know what Jon and Dany will be like, but I can hope.

I personally wouldn’t worry about Jon and Dany’s relationship in the books yet, because it hasn’t even been written yet. I have faith in GRRM, and I’m going to give him the benefit of the doubt. If I’m wrong, there will be plenty of time to critique this relationship after it’s published.

***

I’m sorry if this doesn’t answer your question. I’m also really sorry if I made you feel bad, I hope I didn’t, but I’m sorry if I did. (Please tell me that I didn’t, or else I will fret.)

I have a tag for discussions of Jon and Dany’s relationship, if you want to read more of my thoughts: #jdmeta

#thank you! you're very kind #gameofthronesrenlyxlorasforever #replies #jdmeta #lannister thoughts #jon x dany #dany x jon #jon snow #daenerys targaryen

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apawcalypsemeow · 7 years ago

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Top 10 Husbandos

Rules: list your top 10 husbandos or waifu (as in fictional characters from tv shows, video games, and/or anime), and then tag people

Thanks for the tag @little-scribble and I love your choices!

It took me a while to compile this list as I realized the characters I find most intriguing (Kylo Ren, Gollum, Feanor, Zuko, etc) and those I find sexiest (Kylo Ren again), are not always the type I would want a relationship with. They’ve got to have the whole package to be my husbando!

So without further ado...

1. Kit Fiso (The Clone Wars)

The smile, the snark, the voice, the genuine Jedi values, the tentacles, the shirtless scenes, mmmmm. I’ll take this fish raw and wriggling...

2. Faramir (Lord of the Rings)

A genuinely kind sweet lovable character despite the fact that he has seen some shit (tm). This cinnamon roll even flat out rejected the One Ring in the books, how pure! And a cutie to boot just look at those soulful eyes T_T

3. Samwise Gamgee (Lord of the Rings runner-up)

Another cinnamon roll, this time a humble hopeless romantic and future family man with a heart of gold. The true hero of the Lord of the Rings thanks to his loyalty, perseverance, optimism, and faith in his friends. Also likes to cook and garden. What’s not to love?

Note: when I told my husband about these two choices and my reasons he said, “well I’m basically a combination of the two.” asldfkjsdlkfjlknjkhj HE’S RIGHT =X

4. Professor Willow (Pokemon Go)

Omg this silver fox blew me away when the game was released. His looks, his endless curiosity, his love of animals pokemon. I’m not into daddy kink but oh man I would be for him!

5. Justin (secret of NIMH)

My first fictional childhood crush. They had no right making this rat as charming and gentlemanly and perfect as he is. Honestly how dare?!?!

6. The Beast (Beauty and the Beast)

Another childhood crush. A big ol teddy bear with a rough exterior and a heart of gold. His honest yet awkward eagerness once he starts opening up to Belle just gives me the warm fuzzies. What a lovable dork. I both related to the Beast and wanted to cuddle up next to him as a kid. And as a bonus for adult Erin, he turns into Fabio at the end.

7. Neville Longbottom (Harry Potter)

Of course everybody loves him after the actor miraculously became ridiculously hot, but honestly my crush on Neville started in Goblet of Fire and would have continued even if he kept the buck teeth and awkward looks. That moment when everybody else is being salty after the Yule Ball and he just waltzes in on cloud nine with that enchanted look on his face made me fall in love with him instantly. Another lovable dork (oh no, is my type showing?). He is the nerd who finally found his place and the confidence he gains from that is every bit as sexy and the hunk puberty turns him into.

8. Splinter (Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles)

A wise, responsible, honorable, caring, family man rat (dear self: why are there so many rats on this list??? I don’t have a thing I swear =X ). I love all iterations of Splinter, but by far my favorite is the 2012 Nickelodeon show. His design is so gorgeous, and he has that same type of wise playful snarky borderline silly humor that Yoda has in the original trilogy, it is hilarious!

9. Luke Skywalker (Star Wars)

I have so many feelings about this cute lovable dork farmkid turned mature yet still earnest hero of the galaxy (especially his RotJ getup, me-ow!).

10. Westley (Princess Bride)

A Good Boy (tm) with a little bit of a dark side, handsome devil face, and dry witty humor. No more needs said.

Tag list. As always, no pressure and if you’ve already done it send the link my way cause I’d still love to see your answers! @usethehorseluke, @padme-amidalanaberrie, @mrsvioletwrites, @kylossren, @snowywarriors, @ss-reylo, @carrie-reylo, @lothbug, @kylossren, @seducedbykylo, @fernandabarrera

#about meow #husbandos #list of lovable dorks #my type #ignore the rats #tag game #tag you're it

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flownintothesun · 1 year ago

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⋆ ✰ ⋆ ─── [ 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇 ] : 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐬 𝐢𝐭. 𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 @ 𝐖𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐲

⋆ ✰ ⋆ ─── 𝟒𝟎𝟒 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝. ( @batteredoptimist )

𝐄𝐃𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐒 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐁𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 of some villain in a psychological thriller — right down to the gray London skies darkening by the minute in preparation for an autumn rain. He says that he doesn’t want to make a fuss about it — but there are police cars here, and neither Westley nor Muriel do well with the police. They’ve outgrown the helplessness involved with a police trip down to the station, but there are some things that just settle at your core as trauma — and a trip back to the Joneses almost always involved being in the back of a police car. Sure, they have security at the hospital, or cops that come in with criminals, or to investigate a case — but that’s different. Their eyes aren’t on him then. Right now, he doesn’t even need to listen to Doctor May’s victory speech to know what’s at cost here — his job, his degree, his prospects, his license, his freedom — and more importantly than all of that, James and Muriel.

Muriel’s already on the phone with Coco, his features dark and serious — he tells the police it’s their lawyer — but Coco will know better than any lawyer what to do here, and Westley can’t just believe that something like this can happen. There’s no goddamned justice to any of it. He looks down at James’s small warm hand in his own as they all try to coax his lad away from him — and he drags him into an embrace, hand on the back of his head, whispering against his hair, “I’m not going to let this stand. We’ll figure something out, bloemetje. I promise.”

It’s about now that Westley’s really regretting his decision not to attend law school because this is taking too goddamned long, and his hands are really tied, and Edward’s face is gradually turning the color of a disgruntled and angry turnip. How tragic, to not be in control of someone’s life. Westley will sift through every legal file in London’s hearings if he has to. There’s just no fucking way this piece of shit has any rights to James. His little flower is his own goddamned person and — fuck, he’s Westley’s person, too.

His little dear fucking whimpers and Westley’s heart is out with that sound. He wants to wrap James up in his wings, stroke along his hair and kiss his forehead and tell him that they’re going to get him out — that he’s going to be safe forever.

“I hardly need tell you,” Doctor May continues, “That a relationship of this sort with — a patient — Mr. Greene, is highly inappropriate.”

Westley’s face turns into a grimace — one that shows a person capable of great cruelty and malice, should he choose to embrace it, as seaglass eyes turn into a tempest. “I hardly think it’s more inappropriate than a conservatorship.” Okay, so maybe it is, but you know, Westley’s pissed. Muriel’s hand is on his shoulder, grounding him. For what his husband does for a living — he somehow still manages to be the calm in Westley’s storm, not letting him do anything too rash and destructive. “And it’s Doctor Greene.”

“We’ll see,” Edward says calmly. “As you gentleman can see, this — man — has confused my patient — hoodwinked him, as it were. James is confused, lost his memory prior to being found. Who is to say the trauma and abuse he may have experienced. The safest place for him is in psychiatric care where he won’t pose a threat to himself or others. Where he can’t be misled from the path of God to sin, or be given ideas of things that will never be. Come along now, James. I know you’ve had quite the adventure, dear lad, but I assure you this is for your own good.”

Westley’s ears are buzzing, and he looks up to Muriel, whose golden eyes are flashing. They can’t let James just — go — they can’t. “Anything?” he asks, softly.

“I’m afraid the law is on my side here,” Edward says again — “Everything documented quite plainly.”

“We’re going to need you to come with us, Mr. Pollard,” one of the officers says, stepping forward.

Westley’s grip tightens — not painfully, but in a show that he’s not just going to let this go. “Not yet,” he says, “Not until we’ve spoken to our lawyer.”

“There will be time for that, still, Mr. McCarthy,” Doctor May condescends, “But the law waits for no one. James deserves a stable place where he can heal. Would you really deny him that?”

That’s what Westley’s been trying to do this whole goddamned time. “Of course I wouldn’t. If only I could say I trusted that you had his best interest in mind. Amnesia doesn’t render him incapable of his own decisions.”

“But it does give him the lack of background to make informed decisions.”

The police officers look tired, one sighs, “Mr. Pollard — please come along, we don’t want to make this any harder than it has to be.”

“Muriel — “ Westley pleads. He’s never felt so goddamned helpless in his life. What’s the point? In any of this? In all of it? If he can’t keep the two that he loves safe from the world’s harm. “Please — “ he chokes.

#batteredoptimist #➤ 𝟶. 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙵𝙾𝙾𝙻 ┊ westley ransom.#♡ 𝙹𝙰𝙼𝙴𝚂 & 𝚆𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙻𝙴𝚈 ⤷ but i’ve no need for mighty deeds when i feel your arms around me.#♡ 𝙹𝙰𝙼𝙴𝚂 & 𝙼𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙴𝙻 & 𝚆𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙻𝙴𝚈 ⤷ however big ; however small… let me be part of it all.#abuse cw #gaslighting cw #manipulation cw #asylum cw #police cw #child abuse mention cw #(in the past : referenced)#tbi cw #traumatic brain injury cw #brain injury cw #amnesia cw #⋆ ⚓︎ ⋆ ── 𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 ┊ 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑖 𝑝𝑖𝑐𝑘 𝑢𝑝 𝑚𝑦 𝑝𝑒𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑠ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔?

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distant-rose-archive-blog · 8 years ago

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An Ode to Ferris Bueller

Note: This idea has been mulling around in my head for awhile. This weekend was a bit of a rough one for me and I finally got the creative juices flowing a little too late. This one actually based on not just Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, but also some shit I pulled when I was a kid. I am Wes and Wes is me as much as it pains me to admit. As always, thanks @welllpthisishappening for letting me bounce this one off of you. You’re a gem and I am lost without you. All mistakes in this are mine because I am trash and don’t have a beta. Available in AO3 flavor here: [LINK] Summary: Emma Swan and Killian’s second youngest son Westley is horribly sick...or is he? Rating: T Word Count: 3,100+

Emma was putting her earrings in when she heard the unmistakable sound of retching. She paused, taking a moment from her daily morning routine to make sure her ears had heard correctly. It continued, followed by the sound of something thick hitting toilet water. It was unmistakable. Someone was sick.

“Shit,” she muttered under her breath, immediately moving towards the kids’ bathroom to see who was throwing up. Mentally, she counted how many days she’s taken off for sick kids so far this year and whether or not she can afford to stay home. Winter had been a rough one in the Swan-Jones house and didn’t help that Neddy had pneumonia for week when he fell through ice while playing with his older brothers. Both her and Killian were still making up time for that incident, hence why she was managing all four children this morning on her own while Killian had already gone in early to the station in hopes of making up for lost hours.

She opened the bathroom door quietly and peered in to see Wes hunched over the toilet, groaning. He looked so small and pale under the fluorescent lights of the bathroom. His wild blonde hair was uncombed, making it look even more untamed than it usually did. Wes was also still in his sleepwear, flannel pajama bottoms and a black t-shirt that Emma was positive was actually Killian’s due to the fact that it was far too large and practically hanging off of his thin shoulders.

When he noticed he wasn’t alone, he looked up at Emma with the most pitiful expression, grayish brown vomit dribbling at the corner of his lips and oozing on the collar of his t-shirt. He was the epitome of miserable.

“Mom…” he croaked and Emma immediately crouched down beside him, stroking his hair back from his face. His blue eyes were wide and looked so full of pain. For a moment, Emma wondered if he was going to cry. “I don’t feel so good…”

Briefly, her fingers pressed against his forehead and she was mildly surprised to find that he was still on the cool side, no sweat or signs of fever. Perhaps he was suffering from a case of food poisoning. She panicked for a moment. Was her mother’s lamb dinner tainted? And if so, how long would it be before the entire family came down with sickness? God, she couldn’t handle four sick children and a sick Killian at the same time. It was just too much.

“You’re throwing up, huh kid?” Emma gently asked him.

Wes made no coherent response, he just whined pathetically. Not caring that he was covered in vomit, Emma tugged her son to her chest and placed a kiss on the crown of his head.

“Listen, why don’t you go back to bed, kid, and I’ll see what I can do about getting your grandpa to cover my shift so I can stay home with you, alright? Dad and I might be able to take smaller shifts so we can look after you,” She said softly, rubbing his back in small gentle circles.

Again, Wes didn’t verbally respond, just nodded his head against her shoulder and Emma’s heart squeezed at the sight of her normally clever and sarcastic eleven-year old reduced to grunts and groans. She never thought she would miss his outrageous verbosity and penchant for sass, but she would give anything in that moment to hear him make one of his signature witty remarks.

Gently, she nudged him off the floor of the bathroom and helped him back into his bed. He slumped against her, head lolling against her shoulder like a ragdoll. When she laid him in his bed, she tucked him in a thorough fashion that she hadn’t done since he had turned six-years old. Pulling the quilts up to his chin, Emma couldn’t help but place another kiss on her son’s forehead.

“Get some rest,” she said softly against his hair. “I’m going to make sure the rest of the crew gets to school and we will see about later.”

“Okay…” he whispered, nuzzling his head into the pillow and closing his eyes.

Emma gave him a soft smile and a quick pat before heading downstairs to make sure that none of her other little ones were ill. She found Harrison, Beth and Neddy all sitting around the kitchen table. Harrison was on his phone, most likely texting Neal about something or another. Beth was munching loudly on a piece of toast while Neddy was making a mess of his oatmeal, smashing bits of banana into it with an absurd amount of concentration. Emma let out a sigh of relief. No one else looked sick. Thank the Gods for small favors.

Harrison looked up from his phone for a moment, green eyes scanning over the kitchen. Whatever he was looking for, he didn’t find it because he frowned for a moment before turning his attention to his mother.

“Hey, where’s Wes? Don’t we need to leave in like twenty minutes? He needs to get down here if he wants the rest of the Captain Crunch. I’m not going to listen to him whine all day about how I didn’t give him a chance for a bowl,” Harrison commented with a small huff.

“Well, I would take the last of it if you want it, Har. Wes isn’t gonna want it. He’s sick,” Emma replied, pushing the box of Captain Crunch in front of her thirteen-year old.

Harrison and Beth both raised their eyebrows at her statement.

“Bullshit,” Beth fake-coughed into her fist before she scarfed down the rest of her toast in one ravenous bite.

“Elizabeth Alice, language!” Emma hissed, internally sighing at her daughter’s complete lack of manners. She had a feeling she was going to get another lecture from her mother about her daughter’s ill-bred behavior come next Sunday dinner. If she heard another word about how her children were supposed to behave, she would honestly scream.

“I second that though,” Harrison commented, pouring himself the last bit of sugary cereal. “He’s probably faking. I heard him complaining last night about something at school. A test or quiz, or whatever. Dollars to donuts, he’s faking you out.”

“Unless you can somehow fake puking, he’s not faking it,” Emma responded, frowning and placing her hands on her hips.

Sometimes she didn’t get the relationship between her kids. They could be incredibly supportive of one another at times while other times it seemed like World War Three was happening under her roof. She wished for her sanity that they could just decide if they were friends or foes so she knew how to handle them.

It was at that moment that Emma noticed her youngest son opening the refrigerator and pulling out a can of Diet Coke. It was the sound of the can being opened and the unmistakable hiss of pressure being relieved from its tin container that caught her attention. Emma’s eyes went wide in surprise. At four-years old, Neddy was not allowed to drink soda, let alone have it with breakfast. He didn’t normally break rules like this.

“Edward David Jones, you put that soda can back in the refrigerator where you find it or so help me, you will not have dessert or television privileges for a week,” Emma scolded him, immediately rushing over to take the can away from him.

Instead of heeding her words like he normally did, Neddy poured the coke into the nauseating mashup of banana and oatmeal. Immediately, Harrison and Beth blanched at the sight of it, both of their noses wrinkling in disgust. Emma would have found their identical expressions endearing if she wasn’t grossed out herself.

“That’s nasty, Neddy!” Harrison stated, pushing his bowl of Captain Crunch away from him. It was quite obvious that Neddy’s little concoction had stolen his appetite.

“I’m going to be sick,” Beth commented, bringing her hand up to her mouth and looking away from the odd mixture.

“You’re not going to be sick,” Neddy chirped, completely unperturbed with the reactions of his family. In fact, he was beaming with pride. “I’m going to be sick. Like Wes. So we can stay home and play together!”

At first, Emma thought Neddy meant that he was going to make himself sick by eating the disgusting blend of oatmeal, banana and coke, but then she realized the contents of the bowl looked…familiar. It looked nearly identical to the vomit that she had seen on Wes’s shirt this morning; practically the same color and consistency. It was too similar to be incidental. Her eyes immediately narrowed in realization.

“No one is going to be sick today,” she announced, picking up the bowl and tossing it and its entire contents into the trash can. Without another word, she made a beeline to the stairs. She and her son needed to have a little chat.

Instead of being asleep, Wes was reading a comic book and wearing a different t-shirt when Emma opened his door. He looked at her with wide eyes, the color draining from his face completely as he took note of her expression. He seemed to sense immediately that the jig was up. While staring him down, Emma reached over and grabbed the black t-shirt that was covered in fake vomit and gave it a firm, loud sniff. How did she not notice the lack of smell before? She gave it a tentative lick and her tongue identified oatmeal, banana and cotton almost immediately. She threw the t-shirt against the wall almost violently and let out a loud frustrated groan.

“Mom…” Wes’s voice wavered. He sounded genuinely terrified, as he should be.

Emma was not feeling sympathetic at the moment. She was too busy refraining from screaming aloud. She had nearly been conned by an eleven-year old punk. He had been so convincing and she had bought it hook, line and sinker. If Neddy hadn’t made the concoction before her eyes, he would have gotten away with it.

Taking a deep breath, Emma composed herself before turning her attention to her lying and definitely not-sick son. She brought her hands together and began to slow clap.

“What are you doing?” Wes asked, perplexed by her actions.

“Applauding you,” Emma replied with a sarcastic smile. “An act like that deserves an Academy Award or an Oscar or something. I’ve never given a damn about acting awards before, but then again, I didn’t know I had an accomplished actor for a son. You really had me going with the fake puke. Honestly, I genuinely believed it. So what are we trying to avoid today, Ferris? Math test? Spelling quiz? A project we forgot? All three?”

Wes didn’t answer her question, but he looked at her, his brows furrowed together in further confusion.

“Ferris?” he asked in confusion.

“Ferris, as in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. An eighties movie,” Emma clarified with a huff. “Honestly, I swear I should have named you after him instead of the Princess Bride. It would have been more fitting since you’re both very convincing con-men. You should give it a watch sometime.”

As soon as Emma said it, she regretted it. The last movie Wes should be watching was Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. It was bound to give him more ideas on how to be an accomplished delinquent. Lord knows how many times Emma had used tactics from that movie in order to pull off some of her shoplifting schemes with Neal back in the day.

“Huh,” Wes responded and already she could see the wheels turning in his head. She was a terrible mother.

“Get out of bed and get dressed, you’re going to school,” she hissed, jabbing a finger in the direction of his dresser before turning on her heel and heading back downstairs.

She did her best to ignore the very satisfied grins on Harrison and Beth’s face as well as the quiet high-five that they exchanged under the table. Emma was genuinely tempted to go back upstairs and take a sip of rum from Killian’s totally not secret stash in his bottom drawer.

The ride to school was more quiet than usual. Virtually no sound was made aside from Neddy who was listening to songs on Emma’s iPhone and singing the theme song from one of the numerous Winnie the Pooh shows. Wes was looking out the window of the car with a virtually permanent scowl on his face while his older siblings were still grinning, watching their brother with smug expressions.

Emma was still quite angry with both herself and her son when she dropped them in front of the building, and she didn’t get out of the car like she normally did to give them parting hugs and kisses. Instead, she gave them a brief verbal goodbye before driving off to the station.

Killian immediately sensed her bad mood when she arrived at work and gave her a concerned frown as he watched her hang up her jacket violently in frustration and toss her keys against the room, completely missing her desk. She didn’t bother to pick them up, just sat down in her chair and let out a loud groan.

“What’s wrong, love?” Killian asked, getting up from his own desk and crouching in front of her. He took one of her hands in his own and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“I got completely conned by our kid,” she explained with a heavy sigh.

“Wes?” Killian asked, giving her hand another squeeze.

“Wes,” she confirmed, bringing her free hand up to massage her temples.

“He’s a wily one,” Killian commented lightly. “What did he do this time?”

“He pretended to be sick. Fake puke and everything. Very convincing. Totally would have gotten away with it, if Neddy didn’t reveal the trick. Oatmeal, bananas and coke. Where do they come up with this stuff?”

“I don’t know what to tell you, love,” Killian sighed. “Though, I can’t say I haven’t done something similar in the past. I used to eat bad fish and purposely get sick in order to keep from some grueling tasks when I was a child in Silver’s care. Perhaps, he gets it from me.”

“I don’t think it’s exclusively you,” Emma sighed. “I was the same. I used to fake sick like Ferris Bueller by licking my palms and pretending to have a stomach cramp so I didn’t have to go to school and would have the house to myself when I was in foster care.”

It was then that Emma’s cellphone rang. Emma took it out of her pocket and glanced briefly at the caller ID before groaning.

“I’m such a bad parent,” she said with a heavy sigh. “Storybrooke Elementary is calling. He probably brought the fake puke to school. I didn’t even check his bag!”

“Well, I guess we’re going to have to be checking backpacks for now on,” Killian replied before gesturing to her phone. “You should probably answer that.”

Emma merely shook her head in response before picking up the call and pressing her phone to her ear.

“This is Sheriff Swan,” she said tiredly.

“Sheriff Swan, hi, it’s Nurse Angelica from Storybrooke Elementary. I’m calling because your son Westley is unwell and I need you to pick him up.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Emma asked, rubbing her eyes.

“He’s unwell, Sheriff.”

“I get that. I’m asking how is he unwell? What’s wrong with him?” Emma couldn’t keep the irritation out of her tone. She felt slightly bad for this woman. It wasn’t her fault that her son was too awfully clever for his own good.

“Well, he doesn’t have a fever or anything, but he’s got a stomach cramp that’s painful enough that he’s moaning and wailing, the poor lamb. He also is quite clammy. He might be coming down with something contagious so we can’t keep him here. You have to pick him up, Sheriff.”

“I will be right there,” Emma sighed, clicking the end call button on her phone; not even bothering to give the woman a proper sign off.

“Fake vomit?” Killian asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Nope,” Emma replied with a snort. “Stomach cramp and clammy hands just like his mother.”

“I assume that they want you to pick him up so he doesn’t infect more people with his fake illness?” Killian asked with some amusement coloring his tone.

“Naturally.”

“Well, might as well go get the lad and bring him back here. I’m no healer, but I’m sure I can find a cure for this illness of his,” Killian smirked, his eyes lighting up as an idea popped into his head. Emma was struck by the expression. It reminded her very much of a similar face their son would have whenever he was plotting something.

Wes looked as convincingly ill as he did this morning when Emma arrived at the school to pick him up. She briskly signed him out in the front door, practically dragging him by the back of his shirt. She ignored the disapproving looks of the sectaries as she did so, pushing Wes in the bug a little rougher than necessary.

“Oh kid, drop the act, you’re not fooling me again,” Emma said sharply as she put the keys in the ignition.

Immediately the miserable expression was wiped away and her son looked completely normal albeit slightly pouting and disappointed.

“How do you even do that?” Emma asked, shaking her head in disbelief.

“I think ‘dead puppy’ on a loop,” he replied casually with a shrug.

“Clever,” she snorted. “So did you lick your palms, Ferris?”

“Yes and it was every bit as childish and effective as the movie said it would be,” Wes replied nonchalantly. “Thanks for that suggestion by the way. Can we actually watch the whole movie when we go home? It looked from what I saw on YouTube.”

“We’re not going home,” Emma replied, eyes trained on the road.

“What?” Wes squawked in surprise. “Why? Why aren’t we going home?”

“Because you’re not actually sick and I can’t afford to miss another day of work,” Emma snapped, finally at the end of her rope. “We’re going to the station. Your father came up with the perfect solution for your little illness. You’re going to be organizing the file room.”

“What? No! That room is trashed! It’s dirty and dusty! And it doesn’t have any windows!” Wes whined.

“Yep,” Emma replied, trying to keep from smiling. “And if you somehow manage to finish that, there’s at least thirty years of files in there that need to be put into the computer. We’ve been meaning to start a digital record for ages but we just haven’t had the time or energy…”

Wes groaned in response, burying his head in his hands.

“I should have stayed in school…”

“Sorry, can’t take you back, you’re contagious,” Emma chuckled and this time she allowed herself to smile.

#captain swan #cs ff #cs fanfic #cs crew #cs fanfiction #cs fic #little pirates #my fic #my shit #wes jones #an ode to ferris bueller #ouat fanfiction #ouat fic #little pirates fic

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