most flawless woman ever


“Tommy I ain’t marrying a girl I’m just meeting.” John fought his brother for what seemed like the hundredth time today.

Tommy sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with his index and thumb. “Just meet her and you can decide for fucksake.”

The moment that door opened Tommy’s smirk grew, the smug look on his face making John scoff, but John couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, the most flawless woman he’s ever seen. His future wife.

I’d rather have known my parents when they were younger than only know them as my parents. My mother was the most stylish, flawless woman I’ve ever seen. My father had a little cool, but my mother was a different breed of cool. I’ve looked through photographs of her that inspire me today. She’s partied at Studio 54, hung out in ski chalets in Colorado, and played Cleopatra in a play in Egypt. She’s insanely cool [now], but I wouldn’t pass up being with her in her prime.
—  Solange Knowles
What the Water Gave Us (1/1)

Summary: Killian hasn’t been to the beach in the three years since the accident that took his hand. What happens when he forgets the right sunscreen and enlists a beautiful, but guarded, stranger’s help? 

The CS Beach AU you never knew you needed :)  

Words: 6,000+       ao3 ||

Rated: T (for mild swearing)


What the Water Gave Us


This was a bloody stupid idea.

Killian trudged across the hot sand, a disgruntled set to his mouth, eyes scanning the beach for a spot where he wouldn’t be surrounded by teenagers blaring music or obnoxiously affectionate couples. His therapist, Archie, kept harassing him about getting out of the house, and so he’d come to the only place he could think to be on a hot summer day: the beach. In hindsight, he should have just gone to the cinema or something. After all, no one noticed you only had one hand when you were in a dark theater.

Even now, he could feel people’s eyes on him, and he almost felt like turning around and hopping on the next train back to Manhattan. Something stopped him though, maybe what little pride he had left, and he decided to set up camp near a cheery yellow buttercup umbrella.

He lay out his beach blanket as best he could and rewarded himself with a sip of rum from his flask. What was that saying? It was 5 o’clock somewhere, wasn’t it? The burn of the rum felt good down his throat, effectively calming him down. He pulled off his t-shirt, reached into his bag for his suncream, and froze immediately.

He’d bought the wrong kind.

He’d meant to pick up the easy spray kind, the one where you just hold the button down with your finger, but instead, he’d grabbed the lotion, and usually for the lotion you needed, well, two working hands.


He looked around helplessly. The sun was beating down on him, not a cloud in sight, and with his damned English skin, he would be burnt to a crisp in an hour. He’d bought SPF 50 for Christ’s sake. Killian stifled a groan of frustration. What was he even doing here? What the point of doing anything anymore? He would never be what he was again, so why did he even try? He glanced down at his stump, feeling the phantom clenching of his fist, self loathing curling poisonously in his stomach.

He could still feel the heat on his face as the bomb exploded, could hear the screaming and crying from the people around them, could taste the blood in his mouth from where he’d bit his tongue. The bomb had taken both Liam and his hand in one excruciating instant, and he remembered every second of it.

It’d been three years since: three years of moving restlessly from one place to another (from London to Dublin to Paris to New York City); three years of therapists telling him it wasn’t his fault; three years of trying to put his life back together, and some days it seemed to him that he was no closer now than he was then.

He took another swig of rum, trying to calm himself down. Don’t think about it. Just don’t think about it. This didn’t have to ruin his day. He didn’t have to let it. He’d just need a little help. Killian closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath of sea air. When he felt like he was ready, he let his eyes flutter open to survey the other beach goers around him.

That’s when he saw her.

She was the owner of the buttercup beach umbrella and how he hadn’t seen her right away was a mystery to him as she was easily the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen. Long, wavy blonde hair, pale, flawless skin, and legs for days, she wore a modest, red bikini that complemented her gorgeous curves.

She was sitting upright on her beach blanket, eyes scanning the water alertly, and Killian glanced out at the swimmers, trying to gauge who she was watching. Probably her boyfriend, he figured, somewhat bitterly. He glanced down at the suncream in his hand and over at her contemplatively. It’s not like he had many options, right? He didn’t need much convincing and hesitantly crossed the distance between their two spots.

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