Out of the Frying Pan (32/?)
“Are you crying?” Ariel asked, voice shaking a bit as she rubbed her knuckles across her cheeks, dragging a bit of mascara along with her.
“Absolutely not,” Emma promised, blinking quickly like that would hide the evidence.
“Of course not. Me either. Only saps cry at weddings.”
AN: I owe @laurnorder like sixteen thousand gifts for fixing all of this and making it better and then several more thousand gifts for @distant-rose who is currently reading a sequel to a sequel to a sequel to a story that hasn’t been posted yet.