@captainswans requested Emma/Elsa + making out in a corner at Annaâs wedding;Â
The smear of lipstick across Elsaâs cheek is a pale sparkling pink, her blush a deep red, and her eyes are blue and shining.
Emma licks at her bottom lip, tastes peaches - Elsaâs lipstick is flavoured and she admitted, as Emma tossed her an apple from the basket so laden with fruit that her arm started to hurt under the strain, that she âmuch preferred them.â
Emmaâs starting to prefer them, too.
Elsaâs sigh is soft, but her breath fans oh so warm and inviting across Emmaâs face, and Emma leans in again. She closes her eyes when she places another kiss on Elsaâs chin, not because she doesnât want to see the rest of the way Elsaâs blush deepens at the touch, her pale skin donning colors that Emma thinks she actually prefers to the blue - the reds so full of life and laughter.
Elsa laughs as Emma kisses her.
She closes her eyes for this: for the moment when she pulls back and can open them again to the reality of Elsaâs lips inches from hers - a span of inches, centimeters, and then Elsaâs nose is nuding hers, her lips searching, asking permission in that polite way of hers that Emma is so fond of easing her out of when theyâre in better circumstances than this.
She isnât going to steal Elsa away from her sisterâs wedding for that; for this, however? For simple kisses?
Emmaâs never been happier with simplicity; and she doesnât feel anything like a thief here, the touch of Elsaâs lips so freely offered.
She isnât going to look a gift horse in the mouth and, maybe even months ago, Emma wouldâve said that you need to take the good when you get it because it isnât going to last, it never does, but she doesnât want to just take this; Emma wants to give.
So she does so, gives her permission by pressing forward, sliding her hand around Elsaâs waist and drawing their thighs together. Layers of delicately embroidered fabric separate their skin, but not their lips, and once Emma starts moving her mouth against Elsaâs, thereâs a snowballâs chance in hell of anything doing so, fabric or otherwise (the voices carrying from the ballroom, the sounds of doors creaking open and slamming closed, laughter just a few feet away, behind the pillar separating them from the world).
Elsa tastes like peaches until her lipstick - there donât seem to be enchantments here for everlasting lipstick - smears away with Emmaâs eager attentions, and
She weaves her hand up Elsaâs side, desperate to touch and then her hand reaches Elsaâs shoulder, curves up her back to tangle in her hair. She wore it down at Annaâs request, and Emma blesses Anna from the high heavens for this, for the chance to run her fingers through it and over Elsaâs scalp and draw a soft moan from Elsa, starting in her throat and ending against Emmaâs lips.
âOh,â Elsa says, sharp and surprised.
Emma blinks and thereâs the blush again, even deeper than before, and the sun has set behind them so itâs the moonlight turning Elsaâs eyes to wide blue stars.
âI have to -â Emma starts and finishes with her mouth on Elsaâs again, has to kiss her because sheâs so beautiful and itâs the simplest way Emma knows to tell her, to push her up against the pillar and give her a place to rest that isnât just in Emmaâs arms - although Emmaâs heart beats fast with the knowledge that there would be no better place to rest than in that cradle.
She snorts against Elsaâs mouth at the thought, tells herself that itâs silly to think âI work outâ when sheâs admitting to herself that she kind of would love to hold Elsa like this for as long as possible.
âEmma,â Elsa says at that, sounding offended - but more so, sounding curious. âWhy did you laugh?â
âBecause I work out,â Emma says.
Elsaâs confusion deepens. âThat doesnât make any sense.â
âThis makes sense,â Emma says, drawing back just a little further.
Elsa nods at this, her eyes crinkling and her lips upturning in a gentle smile.
âIt does,â she agrees.
They hover there for a moment, a breeze rolling by in the space between them, sound rolling with it - a wave of laughter goes up, cries of joy -
Elsa leans back in, mouth near inches from Emmaâs when she says, âIt does.â
Inches become centimeters become millimeters become red burning hot in Emmaâs own cheeks as Elsaâs lips find hers again and again and again.
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âhey we hooked up last night and it turns out you are my childs teacherâ au - SWAN BEAUTY. EMMA AND BELLE. BELLE AND EMMA.
honestly this is an inspired prompt
When you pick up your child from school because heâs sick, there is a certain way that things are supposed to go: skid into the parking lot in a hurry, hustle down to the nurseâs office to see whatâs wrong, and bring your feverish, throwing up, headachey, pale, chilled, exhausted child home while making a list full of different soups and medicines in your head.
Step one was easy. Step two was already going wrong.
Emma trudges to the room at the northwest corner of the building, furthest down the hall on the first floor, thanks very much lady in the main office. She knocks on the door covered in colorful finger paintings with spindly childrenâs signatures on the corner and shoves her hands deep into her pockets, blowing out a deep breath.Â
The muffled talking from inside stops and the door swings open to reveal a gorgeous, smiling brunette with doe eyes. Emmaâs gaze immediately snaps down to the scarf wrapped delicately around her neck and swallows.Â
This is where the rest of the steps go to shit.
âEmma!â Belle exclaims, a pretty red flush coloring her cheeks. Without missing a beat, she turns on her heel and addresses the staring class of kindergarteners. âWhy donât you all keep working on your macaroni projects while I talk to Miss Swan here?â
âYes, Ms. French,â comes the chant from the kids as they all busy themselves with glue and uncooked pasta.
âOver here,â Belle says to Emma, nodding to the corner of the room. âHe wouldnât go to the nurseâs office. He said he just wanted to sleep in the pillow area.â
Emma tries very, very hard to focus on what Belle is saying, but itâs hard when she can pinpoint exactly how far down her chest that flush goes, and how Belleâs walk calls to mind the way the hem of her dress pulled up her leg last night at the bar and--
âHey,â Emma says, plopping down next to the woman. âWould you mind if I bought you a drink?â
The brunette eyes her for a moment, gaze dragging up and down the shirt-and-skirt combination chosen for the evening. âNormally I wouldnât mind, but Iâm actually not drinking tonight. Iâm working with kids in the morning.â
âTeacher?â
âYeah, and the kids can always tell when somethingâs off. They all have a weird superhuman senses about that kind of thing.â
âWell, if youâre not drinking, I shouldnât be either.â Emma finishes her whiskey and sets the empty glass onto the bar with an air of formality.
âAnd why is that?â
âWell, I wouldnât want you to think that youâre taking advantage of me later when Iâm hopefully going to be kissing you.â
Emma shakes her head as they reach Henry, curled up in a little ball on top of a heap of pillows, eyes closed even as he reaches out at the sound of footsteps.
âHey kid,â Emma breathes, bending down and taking his hand in one of hers, using the other to feel his forehead. âHow are you feeling?â
âNo good,â Henry moans. He definitely has a fever.
âThank you for taking care of him,â Emma turns to Belle from where sheâs crouching. Her eyes are drawn to the scarf again, where she knows for certain there are several colorful hickeys blossoming. She can feel a blush rising to her own face.
âMom? Can I go home?â
âYeah, kiddo, we can go home.â They stand, Henryâs hand never leaving hers. Belle smiles softly, ruffling Henryâs hair with delicate fingers.
âYou make sure you get lots of rest. I want to see you back here as soon as youâre feeling better!â
âYes Ms. French,â Henry says automatically, blinking up at her.Â
âAnd you,â Belle grins at Emma, âwhy donât you bring me your number along with Henry, when he comes back?â