#I saw you like red velvet and particularly joy it seems?

[epiphanytear]

Happy Birthday @fireworksgalaxy

[violettduchess]

Hi! I'm so happy to see you are participating! May I please request Leon with prompt #5? Thank you! <3

A/N: This combines two of the requests for Tis the Season for Love CCC hosted by @voltage-vixen and @xxsycamore. This Leon prompt was also requested by @joiedecombat. Clavis request was anon!

Leon- scarf sharing, Clavis- ice skating

One of the last bits of fluff before the angst!

Word Count: 1456

Leon- Scarf Sharing

The door to the bedroom opens in what can only be called triumph as Leon strides in on his long legs, holding a present wrapped in forest green paper and tied with a perfect golden bow. The wide grin on his face tells you exactly what this must be. 

Setting aside your book, you slide to the edge of the bed where he joins you, sitting himself down with an air of child-like excitement. “Leon! You found it!” During the smaller, more private exchange of presents at Christmas, Leon had been stricken by the fact that one present for you had seemingly disappeared into thin air. He had showered you with many other wonderful things, but this had bothered him enough to have the whole palace searched for days until, now, finally, it seems the mystery present returned from wherever it had journeyed to.

“Yves found it. What it was doing in the pantry, I have no idea.” You had an idea and it is golden-eyed and lavender-haired with a no-good grin that screams trouble. Clavis hiding presents in odd places would make perfect sense. Any excuse to cause some fanciful trouble.

“Well”, you say as you lean over, kissing his cheek, “I can’t wait to see it!” He hands it over, grinning boyishly. “Just rip it,” he mutters as you carefully untie the bow. “No,” you chide him gently, “we can use the paper and bow again.” He sighs, muttering something about how he is a prince and you are his love and he can get you paper and ribbons any time. You ignore him because it is the principle of the matter. Some people are paper-rippers and others are correct.

The perfectly intact paper and golden ribbon are set carefully aside, leaving you with a chocolate brown box which you open with eager hands and then gasp in delight. Nestled inside is a scarf of the deepest cranberry red, shot through with threads of bright gold. “Oh Leon….” Joy brings a hush to your voice as you touch the material gently. It feels the way you imagine a cloud would, soft and fluffy and immediately wonderful.

“I found it at a stand at the Christmas Market the day I went with Jin and Yves. This sweet little old woman was selling them. I saw it in its box and bought it right then and there.” That is the Leon you love, all heart and spontaneity. You reach inside to take the scarf out. 

You pull….and pull….and pull….and pull….what? Both his and your eyes widen as you realize just how long the scarf is. When you finally have it all in your lap, it spills over both sides, a soft cloud of red and gold. A really, really big, soft cloud. Leon looks crestfallen as he realizes that you can probably wrap the whole thing around your entire body, not just your neck.

“No, it's ok, love. Don’t be sad. I have an idea.” You stand, offering him your hand. “Come with me.”

It’s a cold, clear winter night. The stars shine like extravagant diamonds against the black velvet sky. The sliver of moon is white and pale as bone, allowing the stars their moment to glow. You and Leon are snuggled together on the palatial terrace under a heavy blanket, your necks and shoulders warmed by your enormous, incredibly warm, red and gold scarf. A stone fire pit bathes you both in heat and gentle orange light. “See? Perfect for star-gazing together.” He turns to look at you, eyes bright with admiration for your optimism. “Perfect,” he murmurs in that deep voice you love so much. “Just perfect.”

Clavis-ice skating

You’re reading a book about the far-off Tourmaline kingdom, drinking in the beautiful illustrations of their traditions and customs. You’re particularly engrossed in a description of winter activities when the sofa suddenly dips due to someone throwing himself despondently onto it. “You don’t even notice me anymore. How could you miss a sight such as this entering a room?”

With a sigh you reach out to ruffle his soft, twilight hair, your touch gentle but playful. He pretends to fix it but in truth, any touch of yours is one he treasures. He reaches up, capturing your hand and then holds it captive against his heart. “What has you so entranced, my dear?” You show him the book and the illustrations of people gliding across a frozen lake with blades on their boots. “This looks like such fun!”

He tilts his head, his thumb absently running over the back of the hand he is still holding tightly against his chest. “Would you like to try it?” His tone is forcibly casual, as if it's no big deal but he also gets the reaction he was fervently hoping for. The book almost falls to the floor as you shift to face him, eyes suddenly bright with excitement. “You’ve done this before?” He shrugs one shoulder, but his lips are curved into a wide grin. “Who hasn’t?” The way your smile radiates joy sends his heart into a tailspin. Ducking his head, he presses a kiss to the back of your hand to hide the effect you’re having on him. “Let me make some arrangements….”

Those fateful words ring in your ears several days later as Clavis kneels in the snow, helping secure the ice blades to your sturdiest boots. He checks the straps several times before rising, offering you his arm as he helps you from the bench down the gentle slope to the edge of the frozen lake. There is no one else around as Clavis assured the other princes you would not want to be seen, slipping and falling in front of them and he would do anything to preserve your dignity. 

“Now just ease your way forward. I’ll attach mine and join you in a moment.” One skate touches the ice and immediately you slide forward, nearly pinwheeling away from him. His strong grip holds you in place, his laughter soft. “Hold on a moment dearie. Don’t go running away from me yet.” Once you have your balance, he lets go and moves toward the bench to attach his own blades. You breathe in the crisp air. Your leg muscles are tense and you will yourself to relax. You have always been good at walking on logs and complicated dance steps, both things that require a sense of body and balance. Tentatively you push forward. You are shaky and you are damned slow but you are moving forward. Your body adapts to the movement and after only a few moments of trembling legs and flapping arms, you manage to glide very, very slowly around half of the small body of frozen water.

Clavis applauds you from the lake's edge, his smile brighter than the winter sunlight. “Look at you go!” Pride fills you as you continue your sluggish, but steady progress. “Come on!” You aren’t brave enough to lift an arm to wave yet but you hope your tone conveys your excitement at trying this together.

Your love nods once and confidently steps out onto the frozen lake…..and promptly falls on his princely rear with a yelp. “Clavis!!” You want to turn to help him but if you do it too quickly you’ll end up flat on the ice with him. “Wait, I’m coming.” You move with the speed of an arthritic snail toward where he is trying to rise again with a body that suddenly appears to be made of gelatin as he flops back down onto the ice. “I’m almost there!” You’re still mostly across the lake. Oh dear.

What feels like hours later, you are holding him in your arms, both of you sprawled in the snow at the edge of the lake. His face is buried in your shoulder, red from exertion and embarrassment. “I asked if you had done this before and you said who hasn’t!” You can't help the curling warmth of amusement lacing your chastisement. “I never specified if I was one of the ones who had.” His voice is muffled by your coat and scarf and despite the wet and the cold, you find yourself laughing, a sound that almost soothes the throbbing pain in certain parts of his body that became very well acquainted with hard ice.

You reach out with your gloved hand, pushing back his hair. “How about we take these awful things off and go back to the palace for a hot bath?” He tilts his head up slightly so you can see one golden eye and the wicked flame of suggestion in it. “Together?” You sigh, stroking his hair. “Sure. Together.”

He lifts his head entirely now, injuries seemingly forgotten. “Well what are we waiting for?!” He pushes himself up, wincing and you can only shake your head at the sudden burst of motivation. Ah, Clavis.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @neoqueen-sailorvirgo @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart

[onyourm-u]

Brutally Analyzing EPEX’s Stage Presence Archetypes

Another typical day of scrolling videos on Youtube. One video I came across was from the username "everglow-up." I knew the clickbait-y title would lure me into her channel, but boy did I find the video interesting and informative.

This video was particularly talking about Billlie's Stage Presence Archetypes based on the following:

Aura (Feminine vs Masculine)

Energy Type (Overt vs Covert)

Energy Type (Overt vs Covert)

Presence Type (Dominant vs Charismatic vs Sensual)

If you'd like a deep dive into those concepts, go ahead and check out the video I have linked above, or check out this video of hers as well.

I have also seen her do an analysis of other groups like EXO and Red Velvet, but I haven't seen her do EPEX or NCT (which I might make a blog on in the future).

I will mainly focus on EPEX's Stage Presence Archetypes using those concepts.

Disclaimer: This is not to determine whether a member's presence is good or bad, but I will point out some of their weak points. I am not writing this to hate on any member nor will sugarcoat any of my takes. If you disagree with any of these, it's okay—just don't be a jerk about it. If you want to, then don't read this.

Ayden

Masculine Overt Charismatic

As a performer, Ayden seems underappreciated. He has one of the best stage presence in the group. Similar to Keum, he also has the perfect balance of almost everything. He tends to maintain great consistency and energy level throughout every performance. His strong facial expressions and body language are in perfect harmony.

At the same time, those facial expressions are appropriate for each concept. When he needs to exhibit the cutesy "Noona's Cat," he becomes this little dancing ball of fur, especially with his fluffy platinum-blonde hair. Oh, man!! It was such a joy to watch. When he needs to exude a dark "Rebellious Wolf," he turns a 180. He would give you passion and hardcore. In other words, he is a versatile performer. His fancams are never tiring to watch.

Overall, the issue with his stage presence would be his face looks too aggressive sometimes. But it's not bothersome enough to ruin his performances.

Keum

Masculine Overt Dominant-Charismatic

The first thing that I thought when I saw Keum's stage presence was, "I love it!" From facial expressions to body language, he has the perfect balance in almost any aspect. He knows what facial expressions are suitable for each concept and do these effortlessly without seeming too intense.

I've seen his performances in Produce X 101, and they were crème de la crème. His Dominant side started to manifest during Believer, and integrating it with his Charismatic facial expressions was just on point. As for Super Special Girl, it showed how he can smoothly adapt to a wide range of concepts.

Under normal circumstances, performers look dead when they stop moving their faces. But with Keum, he manages to capture my attention regardless.

On the other hand, his stage presence comes with extraneous factors despite carrying out consistently good performances. His wardrobe styling and hair color choices could be the leading contributors to this. While everyone else had hair and outfits with vivid colors, he stuck to the monotonous palette during Do 4 Me era. This made him visually overshadowed by (for lack of a better word) more multicolored members like Baekseung or Ayden. I wish he had a more striking hair color other than blond with brighter concepts.

Wish

Masculine Overt Charismatic-Sensual

Wish is like the Overt version of EXO Xiumin. He has both strong facial expressions and body language whenever he performs. He tends to move in an "in your face" manner with a hint of such subtlety.

The performance that really showcased his Sensual side is Lone Wolf. That song was totally made for him. He had pink hair at the time they performed it on music shows, but the fact that he had black hair during their Seoul concert was such a cherry on top. It really helped in strengthening his overall stage presence.

However, the issue with Wish's stage presence is consistency. They tend to be what I call "all or nothing." One minute, he outperforms everyone, and then the next, his facial expressions are almost nonexistent. This happens when the camera pans away from him. He also seems to struggle with versatility, which becomes apparent when the song does not suit his stage presence archetype. He was quite too seductive in cute songs like Do 4 Me because he doesn’t have the right facial expressions, and was boring to watch on Hymn to Love because he didn’t have any.

Baekseung

Masculine Covert Charismatic

Baekseung possesses strong facial expressions. But unlike other Charismatic performers, his body language does not come across as “in your face.” Hence, I classify him as a Covert performer.

Despite his passive energy type, he was able to attract enough attention from the audience through his looks and hair color. This case was most evident with his long pink hair during Do 4 Me era. Apart from the fact that it makes him look like a real-life AI, it is one of the contributing factors to accentuating his naturally Charismatic stage presence.

Although Baekseung managed to maintain the same energy level throughout performances, versatility is something that he needs to work on. He made the facial expressions work for each performance, but he has been doing the exact same set for songs with totally different vibes. For instance, he winks and sticks his tongue out during AOTS (a dark hardcore song) the way he does with Do 4 Me (a light funky one).

Jeff

Masculine Overt Dominant-Charismatic

Jeff manages to balance both his Dominant side and Charismatic side. I was confused about classifying him as either one of the two at first. His facial expression is either too strong for a Dominant performer or too subtle for a Charismatic performer. Thus, I came to the conclusion that he is both.

He relies a lot on body language without having to become as expressive as other Charismatic performers. Even if he becomes as expressive, he does it with great timing. But for the most part, he furrows his brows and intensely stares into the camera for the entirety of each performance, which I'd like to call the "Squinty Eyebrows."

In that sense, it's both a pro and a con. It's a pro because even if he doesn't do much with his face, he doesn't come across as boring. Similar to Baekseung, it's a con because THAT'S IT. That's all he does whenever he performs. He may do a little aegyo or the double squinty brows and all that jazz. But other than that, he's bringing nothing new to the table.

A-Min

Feminine Covert Dominant-Sensual

Being the only Feminine performer in the group, one thing I like about A-Min is that he has great chemistry with a group full of masculine performers. Despite the difference in stage presence aura, he blends in so well since he is a Covert performer. There are three other Covert performers in the group, making him not seem entirely invisible in performances.

A-Min doesn't do much with his face but projects it through his body language instead. He has both loud and subtle movements without making it seem "in your face," which I think is still interesting to watch. This, in turn, makes him both a Dominant and a Sensual performer. Lone Wolf is THAT performance that he absolutely nailed along with Wish, another Sensual performer. Whoever thought of making them do a dance duet in the intro is such a genius. It really displayed their sensual sides so well.

However, I thought A-Min would show off his cuter side in songs with lighter concepts. But nah...he remained constant. He manages to keep a stable level of energy but lacks versatility. He does the same thing as he usually does with more serious concepts, making him less fascinating to watch. This is quite a shame because he has the potential to be more cutesy in a more Dominant performer way.

Yewang

Masculine Covert Dominant

Like other Dominant performers, Yewang relies more on body movements. His facial expression would sometimes complement his overall stage presence (Not to be confused with Charismatic performers. They treat facial expressions as the main course of their stage presence, while Yewang's is a side dish).

However, he would come across as aloof (even more than MU) whenever he missed the right timing for the expressions. Either he stares at the camera and does the "squinty brows" the way Jeff does, or he looks straight-up dead.

He managed to improve some of these aspects in just a year. Just look at his fancams in No Questions compared to Hymn to Love. He was a bit dull and boring on the former, but he had a better grasp of what to do on the latter. He had better timing for using his face and toned his gaze down a bit, and it's not boring at all. He still needs to work on his longevity and consistency. He sometimes struggles to retain the same energy in the long run.

MU

Masculine Covert Dominant

MU, like Yewang, tends to use facial expressions to complement his stage presence. Except, it doesn't work at all. In other words, he is a Dominant performer trying hard to exude Charisma. This is why watching his fancams often felt like watching a triangle trying to fit into a round hole (particularly during the AOTS era). He emphasized his facial expressions so much that they came across as unnatural. While it is supposed to aid his stage presence, it just looks so funny and awkward on him.

I get that he wants to go for the vibe of each concept, but I don't think he needs a loud face to do just that. He could just stand there and still be entertaining to watch. All he has to do is rely more on body language. He was able to attain this with his performance during Breathtaking, and it was...breathtaking. It was pleasant to watch, as he did a fantastic job utilizing his stage presence.

On a side note, he still struggles to fit in his Dominant side in EPEX's Dark and Charismatic-heavy concepts, which makes him more aloof than he actually is. He is not a bad performer, just a confused one. He hasn't explored himself as a performer enough to find the right stage presence type. He has a long way to go.

Group Chemistry

EPEX overall has yet to fully establish their chemistry on stage. Despite this, they have a perfect balance of Overt and Covert performers. While they have a balanced number of Dominant, Charismatic, and Sensual performers, there's no doubt that their performances cater to the Charismatic performers. The songs and choreographies are Charismatic-heavy, so it makes sense that members with this archetype stand out the most. It does not help that most of them are Overt performers. Heck, even Baekseung stood out among them. While he is a Covert performer, he is also a Charismatic one.

This does not imply that non-Charismatic performers live in their shadows, as there are Charismatic members who also have another archetype. Keum and Jeff are both Charismatic and Dominant, while Wish is both Charismatic and Sensual. That does not disorient them from Dominant performers, especially A-Min, who is also a Sensual performer.

It would have been better if they had more concepts or choreographies that show their Dominant side, especially when the non-Charismatic Dominant performers are all Covert.

Subjective Takes

I know—it seems like I have written Keum as the one with the best stage presence, but Ayden takes the lead on who is more interesting to watch. Apart from the hair color choice, he tends to bring more charm and color to every concept in comparison. I realized this when I tried to watch another member's fancam (I think it was a Baekseung one). I accidentally saw Keum and Ayden next to each other, but the latter happened to captivate my attention more.

As for the rest, they are great performers. Maybe they're not as excellent as you want them to be now, but there is always room for improvement.

I believe EPEX as a group has so much potential, especially Wish. They are the group whose growth and development would totally look forward to.

After all, it has only been a year since they debuted, and they have six more years to learn and perform better. STAN EPEX!!

[petite-madame]

Hello PM! Your art is simply fabulous. Every one in a while I spend even an hour looking through the Life of BB, it's just such a joy to immerse myself in that little world ♥. Please ignore this message if you want, I've been meaning to ask out of curiosity what is your favourite colour and what is your mbti? I hope you have a nice week and I can't wait for your new creations ♥

Hi anon ^^

Thank you so much for enjoying my art in general and The LoBB in particular. 🧡 I'm sorry it's still in hiatus. I'm doing my best to go back to it but it's SO much work that it's driving me nuts just to think about it. 😭

What is your favourite colour and what is your mbti?

My favorite color is usually red. I'm saying "usually" because my favorite color can depend on the material. For instance, I like red but when it comes to velvet, nothing can top a certain kind of blue velvet. I also tend to have "hyperfixations" (not sure about the word) when it comes to colors: certain things have to be a certain color. For me a flower pot is brown and that's it, not red, not blue and particularly not green. 😅

I had no idea what MBTI was (I mean, I heard about INFJ, INTJ, ESFJ, etc...particularly a few years back but I don't remember getting really interested into it). Anyway, I passed the test for you and apparently I'm INTP-T (which is strange because, I saw that most artists were ISFP and when I read the description, it seems to work too). I let you judge with the details below. (96% turbulent. Me. What the hell does that even mean ? My brain maybe, that is constantly turbulent, but me, I don't move from in front of the computer or my drawing table all day and I'm a fucking sweetheart 🤓).

Anyway, if you want to understand my personality, better than tests, MBTI, percentages or whatever, look at this illustration below by Simpsons Artist (Chris).

That's me in a nutshell. I'm depressed, everything is going wrong (I'm serious, absolutely everything 🤓) but I'm trying to stay positive (for what? I have no idea, but I'm trying 😆). I'm extremely introvert and I'm constantly in fear of looking like an idiot when I meet new people (which I avoid). Drawing makes me happy and lower my anxiety. IRL I'm like a lot of people, I'm just hoping for the best. In short, "the future is dark but in the meantime, I'm going to draw Steve Rogers shirtless while listening to a podcast about the Great Plague, it will make my life better, at least for the next 3 hours. And if my brain could stop boiling during at least half an hour, that would be great".

I hope you have a nice week and I can't wait for your new creations ♥

Thank you so much anon, I'm drawing Steve next to a horse (I don't like horses), sporting a beautiful armor and a beard. 💕

have a great weekend too ♥

[ellewords]

HELLO.....I AM THE ANON WHO PREVIOUSLY SENT ASKS ABOUT THEATRE AND WGM OIKAWA......i should probably have a name loool maybe i’ll use the cherry blossom emoji so i can call myself sakuranon LOL anyways i’m back with the oikawa brainrot bc this man is living rent-free in my mind rn. i really think a relationship with him on wgm would be similar to that of BTOB’s sungjae and red velvet’s joy!! people really loved them because of how cute they were and how genuine they seemed to be, and i imagine it’d be the same with oikawa—i can imagine him teasing his “spouse” in the same manner as sungjae did with joy!!

in the last ask i sent you mentioned oikawa having a photocard of the idol that would be his partner on the show and AAAAAAA PLEASE THAT’D BE SO CUTE i feel like at the beginning the idol would be quite nervous but he’d be really friendly to them which helps in easing their nerves (he probably shows them the photocard he keeps in his wallet at some point LOL) and soon enough they’re joking around and teasing each other as if they’ve been friends for a long time! there was one clip i saw where joy was removing her makeup and eventually she also used some of her skincare products on sungjae, so i feel like a super cute scene that makes everyone go wild would be oikawa and the idol reader going through their nightly skincare routines and stuff and oikawa never fails to call his partner pretty even though they’re bare-faced and without their usual makeup. on another episode oikawa teaches them how to play volleyball (he can’t help but show off in their presence, only the best for his spouse!!) and in return they teach him some of the choreographies of their songs (you could be an idol too, his partner says, what with how good you are!). on another episode he pays them a visit while they’re filming for a music video; it’s late at night and they’re probably just as exhausted as him after a particularly strenuous day of practice but they still have that smile on their face he’s grown so used to and they still make sure to thank each of the staff members for their hard work and he simply can’t help but admire how they’re so passionate about what they love and how it drives them forward, much like him with volleyball. i LIVE for fluffy stuff like this...there was one clip i saw where sungjae kinda does a kabedon to joy while they’re doing laundry and UGH CHEF’S KISS POETIC CINEMA

since filming for sungjae and joy’s episodes on wgm lasted almost a year it’s probably the same with oikawa and the two have formed such a strong bond with each other so they’re both reluctant to leave and have things return to normal...but i think they’d still keep in touch, with oikawa in particular showing his support for his partner in cute ways! like occasionally he’ll comment stuff under their instagram posts (his partner responds almost instantly, almost as if they were waiting for him to comment...?) or post a story of the song he’s currently listening to and it’s a track off of his partner’s latest album and the fans go CRAZY for what has quickly become one of wgm’s most iconic pairings they’re like PLEASE THIS POWER COUPLE HAS TO DATE FOR REAL DISPATCH YOU GOTTA COME THROUGH WITH THE DATING RUMORS

— from elle ! first of all sakuranon (haha i love the pun), your energy is immaculate i loved reading what you sent in,, i actually have the biggest grin on my face rn. and yes to sungjae and joy !! they were the first couple on wgm that i saw. anyways a couple of lil drabbles based on what you sent under the cut <33 tysm for sending this in and hope you are having a wonderful day :) the dispatch mention had me cackling

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

the first time you met the famous oikawa tooru, you didn’t know what to think. you were nervous of course, more than what you usually felt before a performance. he just saunters on to set, waving a hello to everyone with the sweetest smile on his face.

he wastes no time when he reaches you, immediately pulling you into a hug, “i’m oikawa tooru, but you can call me yours. or best husband in the world. honestly completely up to you.”

he winked. and you laughed the despite the cheesiness of his words — it was certainly one way to break the ice. “i’m yn.”

“well, yn,” oikawa grinned, throwing an arm around your shoulders, “i’m looking forward to our marriage.”

this was certainly going to be an interesting few weeks.

—

you didn’t think a few weeks would turn into actual months, not expecting that so many people loved the idea of you and oikawa together. wgm ratings shot straight up after your first two episodes and the network just knew that they’d have to keep the two of you around for as long as they possibly can. not that either of you had any complaints.

he’s attended concerts, singing along to your songs from the front row, his voice somehow ringing out the loudest. oikawa has crashed music video shoots, and the cameras capture the way his eyes lit up when he sees you dancing your heart out, the way you interacted with the staff. and of course fans never failed to call him out — #oikawa heart eyes trends after every episode.

on the other hand, you attend his games. cheering him on from the stands in his spare jersey, making a different sign to hold up every single time. the cameras catch how he seems to try and find you before every serve. they catch you blowing him a kiss too.

��you’re so attractive.” he mumbled, feeling your cold hands apply some sort of serum to his face, eyes trailing over every feature on your face.

“shut up!” you huffed, trying to fight off the smile that played on your lips. it’s been almost half a year, yet he still never failed to get you all flustered.

“i mean it.” his voice is gentle, grabbing your hands and moving them away from his face, hoping you could tell that he was being serious. “you’re actually gorgeous.”

you want to tell yourself that he’s only doing this for the cameras. that this is essentially fan service. but you could tell in the softness of his gaze, how tightly he held your hand, that he was being completely serious. you could only blink back, how were you supposed to respond to that?

oikawa smirked, “this is the part where you say you think i’m gorgeous too.”

that clip from the show had millions of views within days of it being uploaded on youtube. you and oikawa earned yourselves the name #team gorgeous. he only smiled when you bring it up, “well we are gorgeous, aren’t we?”

how were you going to give him up so easily?

—

on the last day of filming, oikawa doesn’t leave your side. he’s much more touchy, flirting with you every few minutes. he was going to miss you. so much. and you were going to miss him too.

the two of you treat all of the cast/staff to dinner that final night, giving out sincere thank you speeches for all their hard work. and for giving the two of you the opportunity to meet and work with the other.

oikawa hugs you tighter than he ever has when it was eventually time to leave, “we’ll keep in touch, yeah?”

and you do. but without the excuse of filming for a tv show, it was hard to find time to fit each other in your very busy schedules. oikawa posts a video of himself listening to your songs, you post a picture wearing his team’s merch. but it’s not enough for either of you.

deciding to take matters into your own hands, you call him up one random monday morning. oikawa picks up on the first ring.

“how do you feel about starring in a music video?” you asked, the corners of your lips twitching up into a smirk.

“oh yn,” you could practically hear the smile in his voice, “i thought you’d never ask.”

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

a question: how would the hq boys (specifically timeskip) act on a variety show like we got married?  |  written on the margins masterlist

taglist : @haikyuutothetop @crystal-lilac @tobioespresso @sushijimawakatoshi @itsmeaudrieee @pantherhappy @jesssobs @mysticstrawberryballoon @cloudedsky_29

join my hq taglist here. <3

[queertwilight]

LETS BE HUMAN FOR A DAY

Pairing: Edward x Bella (others will appear as the story progresses and no not all are canon)

And yes the person you think is a witch is a witch in this

This was in my drafts, idk if I’ll continue I guess it depends on if it’s any good?

Part One: Eyes

“Green,” he says out of nowhere and Bella tilts her head slightly even though she’s lying on her bed and he can’t see her from this angle. They are currently lying on opposite sides of her bed with their heads close together, so she knows he can feel her head move in a silent question. “My eyes were green, when I was human.”

“Green,” she murmurs testing how it sounds in her mouth. She’s too close to his face to look him in the eye, but from her angle she can see half of his iris and imagines it turning green. “What kind?”

He makes a small noise of confusion, almost like a humph, and she smiles knowing he’s annoyed at not knowing her question. He says it’s her mind’s brilliance that makes him so curious to hear her thoughts but she’s rather grateful he can’t. He didn’t need to know the amount of days she has spent drawing golden irises in the margins of her math homework. He’d think she was insane. “Bella?”

“What do you mean, what kind of green?”

His voice brings her back and she blinks rapidly to try and distract from the heat she feels climbing her neck to color her face red. “What kind of green?” She replies, knowing if she answers fast enough he’ll forget to tease her about her blush. And it works like a charm, he furrows his eyebrows as he peers sideways at her. She wants to reach out and smooth the skin there. Revel in how soft and smooth something so cold can be, in how his eyebrow muscles relax automatically at her touch.

“Yeah,” she whispers in reply. Their voices are softer now, as they tend to get when discussing his human days. Days she can never be a part of, days she wishes she could grasp from his mind to brush away the hurt that comes into his velvet voice when he remembers his mother. If she could soothe his pain how she soothes his furrowed brow, she would without a second thought. “Moss green? Jade green? Grass green? Blue green?”

“Ah,” Edward sighs as he understands at last where her mind had drifted to. “I don’t remember mine very well but I remember everyone comparing them to my mother’s. Carlisle says they were emerald.”

Of course, Bella thinks, they had to be as brilliant as a gemstone. Even human, Edward was beautiful and she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt for accidentally making him remember his mother. “They must have been beautiful, though I must admit I’m quite fond of golden myself.”

His quiet musical laughter shakes her bed, and her heart leaps at the joy she hears in it. That is until she realizes something, “Are you- I mean will you? Be fond of them too?” She stutters out the half question before realizing she could’ve just ruined the whole day. He didn’t particularly like remembering her decision to join him in becoming a vampire, and though they were better about communicating she still felt uneasy in mentioning it. The last time she had mentioned her transformation they had sat down and discussed how he would miss her heartbeat. It had been a moment of clarity for her, to realize that he loved her so much her heartbeat had become his personal version of a lullaby.

“What are you referring to?” His voice questions to her breaking her from her memories. Bella purses her lips, wondering if she should ask a different question, but the quirk in his eyebrow lets her know he can tell she’s plotting an escape. Even as she feels the apprehension rising in her stomach, she can’t help but smile slightly at how well they know each other.

“When,” she looks away and up towards the ceiling, “you change me. I know you’ll miss my eye color, you’ve said as much before. But will you learn to love my new eye color? Even before they turn gold, when they are still red? Or - I mean you don’t have to and please be honest don’t edit your answer to spare my feelings. I understand if you can’t - I know it will be a drastic change and I won’t force you to I mean we can completely ignore this in fact -“

“Bella,” his voice is firm but calm. She pauses in her rambling to see that he’s sitting against her pillows now with an easy crooked smile on his face. It makes her heart leap into her mouth and she swallows to try and get ahold of herself. It wasn’t fair how his smile still held the power to take her breath away or make her heart soar. His smile was home in its crookedness but just because it was home didn’t mean it wasn’t without its surprises. Sometimes she caught him smiling at her crookedly from the corner of her eye and the simple fact he looked at her like that without her always being aware of it caused her immense heart palpitations.

“Yeah?” Her voice wavers slightly but it’s not in fear of his anger. No, she knows him better now than to think he’s angry, besides his voice isn’t harsh or cutting when he says her name. Almost as if just the idea of saying her name in bitterness or reproach would burn his tongue, her name remains soft and warm in his mouth. His eyes aren’t clouded with anger or pain, they glisten in the late afternoon light with the curiousity she has often seen when he tries to disentangle her actions.

“Come here, love,” he says as he opens his arms to her, and she goes willingly. Settling at his side, curled so her legs rest on top of his, she sighs as he presses a gentle kiss to her hairline. “I think,” he begins as he sighs, “I may have inadvertently caused you some insecurity.”

“How?” She doesn’t glance up, instead she grasps his hand that lies on his stomach and begins to play with his fingers. Their coldness helping to ease her growing embarrassment. Bella knew she had insecurities, Edward knew she had them, hell most of the town new everyone else’s insecurities. Yet there is a difference between knowing someone’s insecurities and having them spelled out for you, especially by your lover. Edward sighs above her making her hair move and sending a small shiver down her spine. He chuckles as he hears her heart leap, her face reddens as she realizes she can’t blame the reaction on his coldness - not when it’s ninety-nine degrees outside and the humidity in her room is stifling.

“You seem to be under the impression I love your eyes more than you,” his voice is light but marred with a hint of worry. Of angering her? She doesn’t know, but she just continues to trace the outline of his fingers. “Bella, I love your eyes because they are yours. I’d love them if they were blue, green, grey, yellow,” he laughs a little before gently moving so that their fingers intertwine, “or red. I’m sorry I made you believe your eye color was more important than keeping you forever. Because it’s not Bella, your eyes aren’t what I care about keeping, it’s you.”

She closes her eyes against the onslaught of tears she feels collecting, her nose burning and itching as she fights to keep herself from whimpering. She didn’t know why she felt such relief, she knew Edward loved her and though he was difficult about the transformation she knew he wanted her forever. Yet here she was about to start blubbering because he had just eased a guilt she had unknowingly been carrying around in her chest for a while. The fear of taking away one more thing he loved. She bit her lip as she eased her breaths.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured “it’s silly to be crying I know. But I guess we’re alike that way, you want to give me things and I want to do the same for you. Changing my eye color...it’s so permanent - yes,” she says rolling her eyes as she peers up at him through blurry vision, “so is becoming a vampire but that’s different. I’ll still look like me just...more durable. I can’t make my eyes brown again. It’s just nice to know that even if they won’t be brown, you’ll love them.”

Edward barks out a laugh and she can’t help but feel thoroughly thrown off. Had she said something funny? “No you didn’t love. I’m sorry I’m not laughing at you.” Oh, she had spoken her question out loud, well that saved her having to figure it out on her own. She tilted her head so she could watch his laugh shake his body for a moment longer before he smiled down at her.

“Care to explain what was so funny?” Her eyes were almost completely dry but her nose still burned and her voice wobbled a bit.

“I feel like a right idiot,” he responds as he lets another small laugh take over, “no wonder you haven’t said yes to marrying me! I’m here whining about taking your soul and you’re guilt ridden over harming me with your transformation. Goodness, Alice was right we really should communicate about things more openly. I could’ve saved you so much heartache if I said I love you with and for everything you are,” he grows silent for a moment before adding, “and will be.”

Bella smiles. It’s the first time she has seen him smile at the mention of her impending vampirism and hearing his confirmation makes her shoulders drop as he continues, “how is it we’ve confessed our love for each other so many times yet forgotten the basics of ensuring we help each other through our insecurities? For the love of all that is holy, maybe Rosalie should have given me therapy sessions.” He sighs as he squeezes her hand, ���maybe then I could be more forward in showing you that I am excited in having you forever by my side. Maybe if I were human I could feel secure in me being what you want.”

Edward’s smile was only a soft curve of his lips and Bella couldn’t help but feel the honesty of his words. And then it hit her - “That’s your insecurity? That you think you’re not ... enough?” Her eyes searched his, and for once she saw passed the walls he kept up and down into the worry that lined his eyes, the insecurities that made his brow furrow, the way fear locked his jaw in place.

“I wish we were on level ground, Bella. I don’t want you to have to adjust things for me or to be with me. I just want us to be Edward and Bella. You constantly compare yourself to how I look and it kills me to see how dejected you look. To know I’ve praised your human qualities so much you aren’t aware of how much I esteem your humor, your sarcasm, your wit, your inquisitiveness, your compassion, and your love. I’d give anything for you to see that even human me with terrible coordination, probably bad eyesight, and no social skills would want to marry you because I’m that sure I’d want you till my heart stops beating. Perhaps if I were human, you’d realize you’re my dream, too. That I’d change everything if it meant you not having to change for me. That I don’t want you to one day look back on this and hate me for not giving you all you deserve. I want to be enough for you for eternity.”

Her heart had never felt more love, as she stared up in realization that he was every inch the insecure teenager that she was. Her who constantly felt the need to try and appear like she belonged at his side was suddenly realizing he was trying just as hard to appear that he belonged with her. It made her throat tighten at the epiphany that this was what kept them from forever: themselves. He needed to know she would choose him regardless of what universe they met in, no matter in what life they had been born into, in what circumstance. She needed to know he loved her for her not just her human qualities like her heartbeat or blush but her personhood. And she knew just the way to do it. “Would you like to try?”

“Try?” His eyebrows rose in question as Bella’s smile morphed into its widest and giddiest form. He could practically feel her muscles tightening with the sudden spark of an idea her eyes held. He traced her features quickly, this, he thought silently, this is what she could give him forever - her smiles, her expressions, her radiance.

“To be human,” she replied as she scrambled to get off the bed. She began zipping around the room as he lay in the same position they had just been in curled up on his side slightly peering down at where she had lain. “For a day,” she turned after a few minutes, “be human with me. Then you can see I’m happily in love with you no matter what you are or who you are. Let me help ease your fears too. Please?” She walks to his side of the bed and holds out her hand for him to grasp, “Let me show you that you are enough.”

Bella swears the fireworks in her stomach erupted into masses of butterflies as Edward took her hand in his. “How?”

Bella smiles as Edward’s brow pinches in confusion as she proudly states her answer: “Angela.”

[princessdong]

Fixing the car - Yeri X Reader

Not requested.

Summary: In which Yeri accompanies Wendy to fix her car... And didn't expected to fall in love with the gorgeous girl who worked there.

The summer air from mid June was not the best environment to be working in a car, where the lights and car engines made everything hotter. It didn't helped that you weren't particularly fond of hot weather, but everyone knew this had to be one of the hottest summers Seoul had ever seen.

That's why you've found yourself only wearing a sports bra, and a pair of jeans, working under an old. It was an “El Camino”, a car that seemed to be the oldest one you've seen in your five years living in Korea.

You knew that today one of your friends was coming to leave the car for repairing. Lately, her car had been failing a lot, and at first, you thought that she was breaking it on purpose, just to see one of the boys working there. But, after seeing that she didn't even looked at Jackson, you've feared that she fell for you.

But, after a look on her car, you noticed that those problems were really complicated to be made for her. You were starting to think that you should tell her to buy a new one and maybe burn that thing.

Wendy decided that in this monthly visit she would go with Yeri. The older one thought that it was time for her friends to start meeting you... That and to end with Joy's endless teasing about her having an affair with someone and using the car as a alibi.

She could've gone with Joy first, but Yeri offered herself first, and Joy didn't seemed to be ready to meet the truth. Might as well save her for the last, and keep her wondering.

That's how they both ended, after lots of car stops, and going extremely slow, in the mechanic. The younger one found it funny, how a new car seemed to be far less useful than an old beat up car.

You were still under the old car, unaware of their presence, until you heard her shouting your name. Yet, you didn't moved, only dropping your tools, but staying there. Few seconds later, Wendy pulled you away, grabbing you from the ankles. Giggling, you went to hug her, but you were stopped by a hand in your chest.

“You're smelling, and sweating” Wendy pretended to scold you, before you both bursted in giggles.

Yeri watched the whole interaction from afar, more interested in all the things that were happening at once in that place, instead of her friend being friendly with someone she didn't knew. And none of you would realize of each other's presence, if it wasn't because of Wendy.

“Uh, Y/N, this is Yeri, one of my bandmates. Yeri, this is Y/N, the one Joy thinks I'm dating”

It was then when you first saw each other, and it was then when you started to regret things. The first one being not really paying attention to Red Velvet as you should've done. And the second one, being not wearing anything but a sports bra.

All the while, Yeri was watching you. Hair barely passing the shoulder length, probably as tall as Joy, if not a little taller, and a look in your eyes that was intimidating. And you were shirtless, with grease -or maybe it was oil, she wasn't quite sure- along your torso. Now aware of your current state, your head hung low, breathing out a nervous chuckled, then turning around to find your shirt.

This small moment didn't go unnoticed by Wendy, who watched it with eyebrows raised, and an amused smile. She didn't said anything, she just waited for you to come back, which you did, while buttoning the navy blue shirt. This was going to be even funnier than that one time were Yeri outed herself in an interview.

“Wendy, I didn't knew you were going to come with a friend. If I knew I would've looked better than this” You complaint, trying to clean your fingers with a wet rag.

“You look amazing as that, Y/N” She said without even thinking, and Wendy had to make her best effort to not laugh.

A faint blush spread across her cheeks, and it got worse once she heard a chuckle escaping from your mouth.

“Well, you look amazing too, Yeri” You smiled kindly at her, and then turned around to look at you friend, who was still stifling a laugh. “I'm guessing your trash can is not working again?”

“Yeah... And before you say it, I know I should go and get a new one, but between practices, comebacks, and presentations, it's incredible that I could come here to give you my car” Wendy explained, and of course, you knew it wasn't truth. She was holding into her first car, as the emotional girl that she is.

“Of course it's that, Seungwan. I told you that I would've literally buy it myself if I had to, but you say no... So let's see what I can do with the beast”

You went to the car, taking your time to find the problem, while talking to both Yeri and Wendy. All the while, the youngest one was blushing, stuttering, or just spacing out while thinking of the sight she was welcomed with.

That, of course, didn't go unnoticed by Wendy, so she just elbowed her, and wiggled her eyebrows. And the only response she got was a hit on the ribs from the younger.

A while after, with Yeri being teased without you knowing, and a talk between the three of you, you got up from your place in the floor, and looked at your friend, while smirking.

“You really should think about getting a new car. This one can be repaired, but it'll be cheaper to buy a new one” You tried to sound as serious as you could, while seeing the wide eyes of the older one. You remained silent a few seconds, seeing how Wendy's face morphed, finally realising that it was a joke.

“You little son of a-”

“Careful or I might not repair it” You interrupted her, and shook your head “I'll get it ready in three days, and it's going to cost a few thousands.”

Wendy nodded, already expecting that, it wasn't the first one, and she was pretty sure she would be able to guess how much it would cost.

“Alright, then I'll come back by... Friday, and I'll get the car, or maybe someone else come, I don't know if we won't get our schedule busy by then.” Wendy said, and you knew this was the part where you both said your goodbye.

“You know, you can always come by when your car is not broken, I'm tired of associating your face to work.” You joked while getting close to her, to hug her.

She realized what you were trying to do, and quickly moved to dodge the hug, and started running. Yeri looked at both of you, and she had to admit it, she was kinda hoping that some day she could have that with you, or even more.

No, she wasn't in love, she was just... Impressed by you. You seemed intimidating at first sight, but then, when she spoke to you, she realized you were quite the opposite. You were kind, and funny, always making jokes, and you tried to include her in the conversation, even if she didn't really know you.

It wasn't until you put your oil stained, dirt covered arm, which made her jump.

“Hey dreamer, Seungwan left already, she told me that if you didn't catch up with her in ten she would leave you here.” you chuckled, while pointing to the door with your free hand.

The dark haired girl quickly thanked you, and got out from your grasp, walking to the door. But before she could get too far away, you grabbed her by the wrist, smiling softly at her.

“Hey, uh... I don't wanna look to straight forward but, uh...” You grabbed a piece of paper from your shirt pocket, and you gave it to her. “If you wanna hang out with me someday, or you have a car to repair, I'm only one message away”

She put a stray hair behind her ear, and looked down, trying to hide the faint blush on her face. Yeri kissed your cheek, and quickly walked away.

You watched her walk, smiling fondly when you saw her squealing like a schoolgirl when she was close to the door.

She searched for Wendy, ready to go back to the apartment. The older girl was close to the doors, so once they saw each other, they started walking.

The maknae thought that maybe she could escape the teasing from Wendy, but that was far from the truth.

“So, should I tell Joy that my supposedly girlfriend is cheating on me with my best friend?”

“It's not like that!”

[mldrgrl]

Lately I've been all about reconciliation. For some reason, I want all the Mulder-and-Bill-Scully-finding-some-peace fic I can get. I'd love to see your take on this, maybe in the IWTB era? Or even revival era.

One Sorry Sonofabitch

By: mldrgrl Rating: PG Summary: See above - but be advised Mulder and Scully aren’t in this story a whole lot.  Please send all complaints to @perplexistan and I’ll be filing a lawsuit shortly for pain and suffering for having to turn Bill Scully into a sympathetic character. (Set post-IWtB)

He holds his tongue to spare his mother what he really thinks when she tells him that Dana and Mr. Mulder will be joining them for Thanksgiving this year.  He can’t believe the audacity that man has to show up at a family event.  And his sister isn’t much better for what she’s put their mother through over the years.  He can’t even remember the last time he saw her.  He thinks it might be ten years ago, just before his second son, Michael, was born.  Tara squeezes his knee under the table and he musters up a smile and a brief nod.

Now that he’s stationed in North Carolina, it’s a lot easier for him to travel with his family instead of having his mother fly out for the holidays.  It’s their first Thanksgiving on the east coast and he’s annoyed at having the happy occasion intruded upon by his selfish sister and her ne’er do well friend.  He really can’t believe she still keeps that jackass around.

He loves his sister.  He truly does.  He just can’t understand the foolish choices she’s made.  Starting with joining the FBI, but giving away her child and going on the run with her fugitive partner instead of putting her patriotic duty to uphold the law as her priority is just beyond him.  He would never.  He had hoped that whatever spell Mr. Mulder had put on her would’ve worn off by now, but alas.  And now they’re coming to Thanksgiving.

Tara gives him a look when they hear the car pull up.  One that implores him to please behave.  His wife has no business being so compassionate, but that’s just the kind of person she is.  He hasn’t forgotten how his sister nearly ruined the Christmas that Matthew was born with that strange little girl and her impossible claim to her.  It should have been a time of great joy and instead Dana had made it sorrowful and awkward.

“Fox and Dana just drove up,” his mother says, coming out of the kitchen and wiping her hands on a dish rag.

His sons jump up from the game they’re playing in the family room, excited to meet their mythical aunt they’ve heard tales about.  

“Don’t run in the house,” he barks at the kids.

“Yes Sir,” they say, stopping short and taking slower steps to reach the door.

Tara is the one that greets them and his mother is just behind her.  Bill is the last one to the door and waits for the hugs and excited chatter to die down before he gives his sister a stiff embrace and Mr. Mulder a requisite handshake.

“Mr. Mulder,” Bill says.

“Just Mulder,” Mr. Mulder says.

“Matthew had a growth spurt this year,” Tara prattles, laying a hand on their son’s shoulder.  He’s taller than her by an inch, thin and reedy.  “As you can see.  Can you believe he’ll be thirteen next month!?  And we’ve got Michael turning ten in February.”

Matthew’s cheeks darken.  He embarrasses easily and his fair skin gets blotchy at the drop of a hat.  Both his boys are soft, like their mother.  He’d like to toughen them up, but Tara is fiercely protective of them.  A regular mother lion.  He doesn’t get it.  When he was a kid, he idolized his father.  Those few weeks or months a year when his dad came home were the best.  He was interested in everything his father did and how he did it.  His sons don’t express any interest in him and he barely hears more than a ‘yes, sir’ or a ‘no, sir’ out of them on a good day.

“Maureen is napping,” Tara says.  “You’ll meet her later.”

His daughter, Maureen, well she’s a different story.  She’s only a toddler, but she reminds him of his sister Melissa.  She’s headstrong and unafraid, particularly when it comes to her father.  She sasses.  She rolls her eyes already.  She ignores his orders and does what she wants when she wants.  She’s also cute as a button and has her brothers wrapped around their little fingers.  Tara calls her their little threenager.

“We’ve still got time before dinner,” his mother says.  “Why don’t we head to the family room.”

“We brought pies,” Dana says.

“I’ll get them,” Mr. Mulder says.  He has his hands on Dana’s shoulders and gives them a squeeze when she looks back up at him.  They seem to hold some silent conversation.  To Bill, it looks like his sister is begging her friend to please don’t leave him alone in this house.  He doesn’t know why she’s here.

They gather in the family room and make small talk.  Tara finds the scrapbooks she puts together for his mother every year and shows off all the photos of the kids from their school activities and family vacations.  Dana nods and smiles through most of it.  Mr. Mulder is more talkative and asks all the questions.

A half hour slips by and finally he hears a cry from upstairs indicating that his daughter is up from her nap.  Tara is on her feet in an instant.

“That’ll be the little princess,” Tara says.  “I’ll go grab her and get her ready to come down.”

“I’ll help you,” Bill says.  Tara looks at him strangely as he follows.

Maureen is jumping up and down in the playpen in their room when they walk in.  She smiles brightly and holds her arms up to Tara.

“How’s my girl,” Tara coos.  “Let’s get you into the dress Grandma bought you for dinner and then you can meet your Auntie Dana and Uncle Fox.”

“Don’t call him that,” Bill says.

“Oh, Bill.”  Tara sighs and stands Maureen on the bed to start undressing her.  “You’re going to have to accept him sometime.”

“I most certainly don’t.”

“You know, one of the things I loved the most about you when we were dating was that you always said that family was very important to you.”

“It still is.  You know that.”

“I’m just saying that sometimes your actions don’t say a lot about what I know is in your heart.  Will you grab me one of the Pull-Ups from her bag?”

“I’ve been cordial.  Hell, I shook his hand.”

“Hell is a bad word,” Maureen says.  She scrunches her face and shakes her head as Tara tries to pull her red curls into a ponytail.  “No hair up, Mama.”

“Listen to your mother, Maureen.”

“No.”

“Hair up or it’ll get washed tonight in the bath,” Tara bargains.

“Okay, hair up.”

“She’s the one that abandoned everything, you know.  Not giving a damn about how it would affect our mother.  Tara, she gave her own child away for that man.”

“Damn damn damn!” Maureen shouts, jumping up and down on the bed.

Tara gives Bill a weary look.  “William Scully Junior, you know better than to use that kind of language.”

Maureen laughs and bounces.  “Daddy in trouble.  Daddy in trouble.”

“Yes, Daddy was being very naughty.  And so are you.  Get down.”  Tara holds her hands out and helps Maureen off the bed.  “Billy, Dana had her reasons, I’m sure.  Have you ever even asked her what happened back then?”

“No.  Why do you always take the other side of the argument?”

“I don’t know, Billy, why do you like to argue so much?”  She smiles and pats him on the chest as she leads Maureen past him out the door.  “I’m just putting myself in her shoes and I know that if I were to have to do what she did, there would have to be a very good reason.  You saw how attached to she was to that little Emily and how devastated she was.  Think about that.”

“Hmph.”

Downstairs, his mother oohs and aahs over Maureen’s green velvet dress and Maureen twirls appropriately, delighted to be the center of attention.  His sister smiles warmly and kneels down to introduce herself to her niece and tell her how big she is and how pretty.

“Thank you, I know,” Maureen says.

The women laugh.

“Where are the boys?” Bill asks.  “And Mr. Mulder?”

“Outside playing basketball,” his mother answers.

Basketball.  They should be playing a real sport like football.  The last time he’d tried to teach them how to punt and tackle it had ended in tears.  Matthew complained that the roughness might hurt his chances of moving up in his piano lessons and Michael said he preferred to work on his model cars.

Bill lingers in the mudroom, watching surreptitiously and listening to boys play with Mr. Mulder through the open window.  There are a lot of high fives and hair tousling.  They don’t even seem to be competing, just taking turns with the ball, which seems a little ridiculous.

“Good job, Matt,” Mr. Mulder says, even when Matthew misses a shot that should have been easy.  “Loosen that wrist and hold that follow-through.”  He takes the boys’ hand and guides it with his own.  “That’s it.  Let’s try it again.”

Matthew shoots again and they all cheer when the ball makes it in the basket.

“Nice!” Mr. Mulder yells.  “Nothing but net.”

Both boys whoop and laugh and jump up and down like monkeys and grab onto Mr. Mulder.  He laughs with them and they have another round of high fives and hair tousling.

“How do you know so much about basketball, Uncle Mulder?” Michael asks.  Bill cringes.

“I played in high school and I used to be part of a team at my gym.”

“Did you like being part of a team?”  Matthew asks.

“Yeah, it was great.”

“I think I want to join the debate team at school next year.”  This is news to Bill and he’s surprised.  Matthew is notoriously soft-spoken.

“Your Aunt Dana used to be on a debate team when she was in school.  You should ask her for some tips.”

“Dad said that you guys used to be FBI agents,” Michael says.  “He said it’s like being a glory fried policeman”

“Glorified,” Matthew corrects.  “Not glory fried.”

“Glorified, whatever that means.  He told Mom before that Aunt Dana should’ve kept being a doctor so she’d be more normal.”

Bill grits his teeth.  He doesn’t recall ever saying something like that in front of the boys, but he’s sure he’s said it.  He wonders what else they’ve overheard through the years.

“Well, that’s probably true,” Mr. Mulder says.  “She’s a great doctor.  But, you know what?  Your Aunt Dana was the best agent the FBI ever had.”

“How come she quit?” Matthew asks.

“Have you ever done something that made you really happy for awhile and then it just stopped making you happy?”

“I used to like playing MarioKart,” Michael says.  “But, now I think it’s boring.”

“It’s kind of like that.”

“My favorite is SimCity.  Have you ever played that?”

“No, I can’t say I have.”

“Do you like Guitar Hero?” Matthew asks.  

“Yeah, do you like Guitar Hero?” Michael echoes.  “We brought our Playstation and we can play.”

“I’m not much of a musician,” Mr. Mulder says.  “But I’ll give it a shot.”

“Cool!” Both boys yell.

Bill chooses that moment to emerge from the mudroom and steps out onto the porch.  Both boys go instantly quiet and Michael starts dribbling the basketball he’s holding.

“You boys should run and get your jackets on,” Bill says.  “It’s getting cold.”

“I’m not cold,” Michael replies.

“Yes, Sir,” Matthew answers and takes Michael’s arm.  “Thanks for the lessons, Uncle Mulder.”

“You can keep playing,” Bill says.  “I just think you need to get your jackets on.”

“That’s alright, we’ll go help Mom and Grandma in the kitchen.  Come on, Mikey.”

Michael reluctantly hands the basketball over to Mr. Mulder.  “Thanks, Uncle Mulder,” he says.

Mr. Mulder nods and then it’s just him and Bill outside.  Mr. Mulder turns and dribbles the ball a few times before he sinks a basket.  He picks it up again and holds it one-handed in Bill’s direction.

“You play?” Mr. Mulder asks.

“I’m more of a football guy,” Bill answers.

“USNA is on a great streak in the Army v Navy games.  Think they can keep it up?”

“Wouldn’t be much of a Navy man if I thought otherwise.”

“Were you on the team?”

“No.  We won all four years I was there though.  Tied one year, actually.”

“I think Scully mentioned that you dad had played one year.”

Bill can’t believe Mr. Mulder is still calling his sister, Scully.  It makes no goddamn sense.  “1957,” he answers.  “14-0, Navy.”

Mr. Mulder nods.  The conversation stalls.  Mr. Mulder rubs the back of his head for a few moments and then he looks at the door and straightens.  Bill turns and sees his sister in the window.  She comes outside, pulling her sweater tighter across her waist and crossing her arms as she steps off the porch.

“Mom says there’s about an hour left until the turkey is ready,” she says.  “Everything alright?”

“Talking sports,” Mr. Mulder says.  Dana stands close to him.  He puts a hand on her back.

“It’s good to see you, Dana.”

“You too, Bill.”

The three of them stand in awkward silence.  A wind picks up and blows dead leaves across their feet.  Bill shoves his hands in his pockets.  Dana turns to Mr. Mulder and lays a hand very lightly on his chest.

“Can you give us a minute?” Dana asks.

“Of course,” Mr. Mulder answers.  He kisses the corner of Dana’s mouth and Bill’s cheek twitches irritably.  He spins the basketball on one finger as he walks away and then tucks it snugly into the corner of the porch before he goes inside.

“I can tell you don’t want us here,” Dana says.  Straight to the point.  His sister has never been subtle.

“I think it’s you that doesn’t want to be here.  You know, every holiday Mom would always bring up the fact that it would be so nice to have all her children at the table.  I have to say I agree with her.”

Dana stares at him with a cool gaze.  “Are you trying to make me feel guilty?”

“No, I’m just telling you how it’s been.”

“All her children?”

“Alright, we don’t need to fight.”

“I’m not fighting.  I’m just wondering if she includes Charlie in that, when she yearns for all her children.”

Bill shifts uncomfortably.  “That’s between them.  Charles is…”

“Charlie is married.  His husband’s name is-”

“Patrick.  I know.  I do speak with him on occasion.”

Dana gives a brief nod.  “Were they invited to Thanksgiving?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry that we didn’t turn out how you wanted.”

“What does that mean?”

“You always wanted to follow in our parents footsteps.  Be just like Dad.  Have the doting wife, the Navy career, a house full of kids.  Everything in ship-shape order.  They made it look ideal when we were kids, but it was never ideal.”

“What kind of nonsense has that man been filling your head with?”

Dana snorts.  “The irony is, Mulder is a lot like you, Bill.  He values the sanctity of family even more than you.”

“Oh yeah, so much so he forced you to give up your only child.”

“Mulder wasn’t even there when I had to give William up.”

“Exactly.  Where was he?  Not with his family.  You can be sure I would-”

“You would, what?  Step away from the Navy?  Reject a deployment order?  What would you do, Bill?”

“It’s my job,” he says, curtly.  “It’s what I do to make sure not just my family, but every family in our country is protected.  Tara understood that when she married me.  The kids understand.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Do you know what losing her grandchild did to Mom?  Dad’s namesake, Dana.  My namesake.  How could you?”

“You sanctimonious sonofabitch,” she hisses.  “My son’s name is William Fox Mulder.  Named after Mulder’s father.  Not you, and not Dad.  And you have no idea how difficult it was for me to make that choice.  None at all.”

“Then why did you do it?  If it was so goddamn hard, why isn’t he here with us now playing with his cousins instead of with strangers?”

Dana looks away and licks the corner of her mouth.  She used to do that when she was a kid before letting loose with a temper tantrum.  He remembers her red-faced and stomping her feet, licking her lip before she exploded.

“Did you know that my life was in danger for all of my pregnancy?” she asks.  “Did you know William was kidnapped twice before he was eight months old?  Did you know that I had friends that were almost killed trying to protect him?  Did you know that I killed people in order to protect him?  Did you know that I made the biggest mistake in my life when I asked Mulder to leave us because I thought he was the one endangering our son?  Did you know that my heart felt like it was ripped out of my chest when I thought I had lost both of them forever?  Do you know that it took years for me to trust in the fact that Mulder forgave me for what I did?”

Bill feels uncomfortable and clammy.  He’s never seen his sister like this, as a child or as an adult.  She’s like fire.  Hot and terrifying.

“No,” he says.  “How could I?  Why didn’t you come to me?”

Dana raises her brow at him like he’s said something completely incredulous.  “We’re family, Bill, not friends.”

“Do you even have any friend, Dana?  Aside from Mr. Mulder?”

“I don’t need or want anyone else in my life except for Mulder.”

“Including your family?”

“Mulder is my family.  A fact I don’t ever think you’ll accept.”

“That man has poisoned you against your family.”

“That man is the reason I’m here today.  You’re right.  It is me that doesn’t want to be here.”  She turns and walks away.

“Dana.”

She doesn’t turn back though, just walks up the porch and into the house and Bill is left alone.  He doesn’t understand how he could have grown up in the same house as each of his siblings, but how they all turned out so different.  He seems to be the only one that appreciates the values his parents instilled in them and not blatantly reject the status quo.  

When Bill comes back into the house, he sees Dana and Mr. Mulder in the dining room, having a very low and animated conversation.  Her hands are in his and his head is bent towards her.  She’s shaking her head and pulling one of her arms free to gesticulate with, but he catches it and clasps their hands gently to his chest.

Bill turns away and heads back to the family room.  The boys are on the floor with Maureen, helping her arrange her dolls to her satisfaction.  Tara and his mother are on the couch in conversation.  He sits down, feeling glum and perturbed.  Dana comes into the room, Mr. Mulder behind her with his hands on her shoulders.

“I’m not feeling very well,” she says.  “Mulder is going to take me home.”

Tara glances at Bill and he shifts his gaze away from her.  

“What is it?” his mother asks.  “Do you need to lie down?  You can use the spare room.”

“No, I wouldn’t want to disrupt dinner.  I think I have a migraine coming on and I have medication at home.”

“But, Dana, it’s been so long since we’ve all been together.  Can’t you just…”

“Let Dana do what she wants to do, Mom,” Bill says.  “If she wants to go home, let her go home.”

His mother wrings her hands together.  He can’t stand the disappointment in her eyes and he doesn’t know how Dana can either.  The hugs goodbye are awkward.  The kids are confused.  

“Uncle Mulder was supposed to play Guitar Hero with us,” Michael says, after they leave.

“Some other time,” Tara tells him.  “Go wash up for dinner.”

Dinner is somber.  His mother looks like she’s on the verge of tears.  Tara tries to compensate by engaging the children in conversation, but the boys unhappily push food around on their plates and Maureen whines to be let loose.  Before they’re even done, his mother starts gathering up the dishes and bringing them into the kitchen.

“What happened?” Tara mouths at him from across the table.

Bill shrugs.  “Mom, stop.  Tara and I will take care of the dishes.  Boys, take your sister and...show your grandmother that guitar game.”

The boys looked relieved.  Matthew takes Maureen’s hand and they head to the family room.  After the leave, the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall sounds immense in the silence.

“Bill…”

Bill raises his hands in surrender.  “Dana and I had a talk,” he admits.  “It didn’t go well.”

“Is that why she left?”

“She left because she didn’t want to show up at all.”

“This really meant a lot to Mom.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Maybe the only thing you can do is just accept the fact that this is all there is.”  Tara gets up, collecting dishes before she makes her way to the kitchen.  It takes Bill some time to follow, but he gathers up plates and silverware and goes in after her.  She’s got Tupperware spread out on the counter and is trying to match lids.

“I don’t want to accept it, Tara.  I can’t.  She’s my sister.”

“Then what do you want to do?”

He scratches the back of his head and thinks, watching Tara empty dishes into plastic bowls.  “Pack me up enough of those leftovers for two.  I’m...going to go out there.”

“You should take the boys with you.”

“Why?”

“It’s unlikely they’d turn the kids away.”

That hurts because it’s probably true.  He finishes clearing the dishes for Tara and she neatly packs up leftovers and stacks them on the counter.  He grabs a sweatshirt and then goes into the family room.  The boys aren’t playing the video game, they look like they’re playing Go Fish with their grandmother and sister.

“Boys, we’re going to take a drive.”

They look at each other and then look at their father.  “Are we in trouble?” Michael asks.

“No, son.  We’re just going to take a drive.”

He can tell they’re reluctant to get up, but they do.  Tara brings them their jackets and loads their arms with the Tupperware and walks them to the car.

“Where are we going?” Matthew asks, buckling his seatbelt.

“We’re going to go see your Aunt Dana and...Uncle Mulder.”

“Really?” Michael asks.

It’s an hour-long drive.  Bill can’t think of a time he’s been alone in a car with his sons for that long.  They don’t talk and the radio isn’t offering anything decent.

“You know, Matthew, your Aunt Dana was there when you were born?”

“She was?”

“She and your grandma had come out for Christmas that year.  They visited you in the hospital and you were only a few hours old.  And...your...Uncle Mulder was there too.”  Bill shifts a little in his seat and adjusts his grip on the steering wheel.  He was a little disgruntled at the time that Mr. Mulder had shown up with Dana at the hospital, but even more so when Tara insisted he have a chance to hold the baby.  He knows photos were taken that day, but he’s never seen them.

“Did Aunt Dana and Uncle Mulder visit me too, Dad?” Michael asks.

“No, they were...they weren’t in town at that time.”

“Oh.”

“Have I ever told you the story of when your Aunt Dana won a shooting contest when she was eight?”

“Um, I don’t think we know any stories about Aunt Dana,” Matthew answers.  “Except a couple Grandma has told us.”

“I see.”  

“I want to hear it,” Michael says.  “I want to know the story.”

“Me too,” Matthew adds.

“She learned to shoot pretty young.  My Dad had taught us.  She was the best out of all of us, even Dad.  She just never missed.  Some kids in the neighborhood caught wind of it and said there was no way a little girl could beat them.  They were older than us, maybe your age, Matthew.  Dana said she could beat the pants off of them, just come out to the woods and name the target.  She whipped those boys good.  Six older boys against one little girl.”

“Did she win a prize?” Michael asks.

Bill thinks back on that day.  He’d felt a mixture of pride and anger.  He wanted Dana to win, but he also looked up to those boys.  Their pride had been injured and therefore he’d tried to convince Dana to throw the competition at one point, pulling her aside and telling her she was hurting their feelings and should let them win.  She looked him straight in the eye and told him no way in hell would she lose to a stupid boy just ‘cause.  He’d been afraid the boys would retaliate in some way, maybe hurt Dana or even start a fight with him, but they hadn’t.

“Respect,” Bill says.  “She won a lot of respect.”

“Sounds like something Maureen would do,” Matthew says.  He and Michael chuckle together.

“Maureen is more like your Aunt Melissa.  Dana was a real tomboy.  She had to do everything me and your Uncle Charles did.”

“How come…?” Matthew starts, and then clams up.

“How come what?”

“I know Aunt Melissa died a long time ago.  But, how come we’ve never met Aunt Dana before now?  Or Uncle Charles?”

“Is it because Uncle Charles married another boy?” Michael asks.

“Who told you that?” Bill asks.

“Mom said that’s why Grandma doesn’t like to talk about him and we should try to understand that Grandma comes from another time where that wasn’t ok, but that doesn’t mean it’s not ok.”

“She said that?”

“Mmhm.  She said that if anyone at church or other kids say it’s not ok, we just don’t listen to them because God doesn’t make mistakes and love is love and God wants us to love each other.”

Bill is quiet.  He can’t believe his devout and traditional wife has said something so progressive and even went so far as to instruct his children to go against the church.  Good for her, he thinks.  Maybe if his mother had thought for herself once in awhile they wouldn’t have such a fractured family.  He can’t believe that thought just crosses his mind.

“You boys listen to your mother,” Bill says.  “She’s a good woman and I’m glad you’re both more like her than like me.”

“You’re good too, Dad,” Matthew says.

“You think so?”

“Yeah, you do a really hard job and it’s important and you’re in charge of it.”

“And Mom says that’s why we shouldn’t bother you with trivial things,” Michael says.  “So you can relax when you’re home.”

Bill is quiet for a few moments and he glances at both boys in the rear view mirror.  “I want you boys to know that you’re never a bother to me.  Not ever, alright?  You can come to me with anything.  You understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” they both say.

“And to answer your question, you haven’t met your Aunt Dana or Uncle Charles before because I think...I think it’s hard for them to feel welcome.  That’s why I’m taking you out to Dana and Mulder’s house right now so I can make sure they know they’re welcome.”

“Will we get to meet Uncle Charles one day, too?” Michael asks.

“I promise that when we get home I’ll call him and ask him if he wants to come for a visit.”

“Cool,” Matthew says.  “Three new uncles and an aunt.”

The roads start to become more rural and desolate.  It’s only twilight, but it feels even darker without any streetlamps or other passing cars.  Bill turns off onto a dirt road and slowly bumps along the unpaved path.

“I think this is it,” Bill says, pulling up to a gate.

“Do they live on a farm?” Michael asks.  “It looks like a farm.”

“I don’t think so.”

Bill is about to call Dana’s phone when he sees Mr. Mulder step out onto the porch, holding what looks like a long-barreled shotgun.  He turns on the cab light of the car and then lowers the window and leans out, raising a hand in greeting.  Mr. Mulder looks like he’s squinting and then he goes back inside and turns on the porch light.  When he comes back out, he’s no longer holding the gun and he jogs down from the porch and down the path behind the gate.  Bill sees his sister come out onto the porch a few moments later.

“Bill?” Mr. Mulder asks once he’s close enough to be heard.  “What’re you doing out here?  Everything alright?”

“The boys and I brought leftovers,” Bill says.

“Uh.  Okay.  Let me just unlock the gate, just a second.”  Mr. Mulder begins to unlock some chains around the gate.  “Scully’s been nagging me to put this on a remote, but I haven’t gotten around to it yet.  Drive on up, I’ll be right behind you.”

Bill drives slowly down the lane and Mr. Mulder stays in the shadow of his taillight.  He parks behind the car in front of the porch and the boys are quick to unlock their belts and scramble out of the car.

“Is this a farm?” Michael asks, running up to Mr. Mulder and taking his hand.  “Do you have cows?”

“Sorry, buddy, no cows,” Mr. Mulder answers.  “I think there might have been horses here at one time.  There are some stalls out in the field behind the house.”

Bill gathers the Tupperware from the floorboards of the passenger seat and Matthew is right behind him to help him get everything out.  Dana stands on the porch in a defensive pose, guarding her territory.

“Come in,” Mr. Mulder says.  He guides Michael up the stairs ahead of him.  Dana gives Mr. Mulder a look, but then smiles at Michael.  Tara was a genius to tell him to take the boys.

The interior surprises Bill.  It’s cozy, almost cabin-like.  There are afghans on the couch and a well-used recliner.  They’ve got a wood burning stove and a fire going.  His sister is wearing slippers.  

Mr. Mulder leads them all to the kitchen and takes the Tupperware from Matthew and from Bill.  “Be sure to thank Maggie for us,” he says.

“I will.”  There’s a few beats of silence and Bill eyes his sister.  “Dana, would you mind if we talked for a few minutes?”

She hesitates and glances at the boys.

“You guys can go on the porch,” Mr. Mulder offers.  “Maybe...these guys might like some ice cream?”

“Can we?” Michael asks, turning to Bill.

Bill nods.  Never in his life did he expect to feel gratitude towards Mr. Mulder for anything, but he does in this moment.  The boys cheer.  Dana doesn’t look happy, but she takes her brother out to the porch.

“I’m not here to fight,” Bill says.  “I just want you to know that up front.”

“Why are you here?” she asks.

“Because I don’t like the way we left things.  I want to start by apologizing for...not giving you the benefit of the doubt.  Or supporting you when you needed it.”

Dana looks surprised and a little chagrined.  Her eyes water a bit.  She wraps her arms across her middle and looks at her feet.  “Thank you,” she says.  “That means a lot.”

“I was telling the boys on the way over about that time you won the shooting contest when you were a kid.”

She snorts softly.  “You were so mad at me.”

“No, I was proud of you.  I didn’t tell you that back then, but I probably should have.  Maybe it’s because of things like that that you felt you couldn’t talk to me when you were going through a hard time.”

“Maybe.”

“What I’m not going to apologize for, though, is my life or my family.”  He pauses while she looks up and opens her mouth, but then she closes it again and nods a little.  “I don’t think I’m wrong for wanting to live in the example our parents set for us.  They were happily married for almost forty years and, God willing, I’d like to make it to my fiftieth anniversary and still be just as happy.”

“You probably will.”

“I think you might too.”

Dana raises her brow.  Bill rubs the back of his neck and exhales, deeply.  

“The kids were telling me earlier that love is love,” he says.  “And, now that I’ve seen the two of you together, I think that he kind of seems like a decent guy.”

“I wouldn’t be with him if he wasn’t.”

“No, I don’t suppose you would.”

Dana looks at her feet again and rocks back and forth on her heels for a moment.  “I would also like to apologize for keeping you in the dark about so many things for so long.  I’ve been so accustomed to needing to keep things private, I forget that I can rely on other people.  Mulder has to remind me of it at times when I start to shut him out.”

“You were like that as a kid.  Tough as nails, wouldn’t show a weakness to save your life.”

“And a quick temper.”

“Yeah, that too.”  Bill chuckles.  Dana smiles slightly.

“I’m sorry I left like that.  I hope Mom wasn’t too upset.”

“I think it might be salvaged if you thought about maybe coming by tomorrow?  The boys really seemed to take to...their Uncle Mulder.”

“He’s really great with kids,” Dana whispers and two tears fall down her cheeks.  She dips her head once more and puts a hand over her eyes.

Bill steps closer and pulls her in against his chest.  She puts her arms around him and he rubs her shoulder a little.  “I can’t imagine, Dana.  What you must feel.”

“Some days are harder than others.”

“Does he help you through it?”

“Always.”

“Okay.”

After a few moments of silence, Dana sighs and then pulls away and wipes her eyes.  Bill stops her before they go back inside.

“One more thing,” he says.  “It’s important to me that you know that I don’t agree with Mom on everything.  Just because I believe that her issues with Charles are her business, doesn’t mean I think she’s right.”

“You don’t?”

“Hell no.  That’s her son.  I would never.  The thing is, Charles has told me he chooses to limit his contact with both of us so that it won’t cause problems between us and Mom, if she knows that we speak with him.”

“I know.”

“And, thinking about what you said and just...thinking about it in general, tonight, I’ve decided that if Mom can’t handle the fact that I have a relationship with my brother, that’s also her problem.  I’m going to invite Charles and Patrick out to North Carolina for Christmas.  I want to extend the same invitation to you and Mr. Mulder as well.”

“It’s just Mulder.”

“You guys are so weird about your names.”

“That’s how we like it.”

Bill puts his hands up in surrender.  Dana opens the door and he follows.  The boys are laughing at something.  Mulder gets up from the table when he sees them and Dana walks into his arms.  He rubs her back and nods at Bill.

“Can I get you a bowl of ice cream?” Mulder asks.

“Sure.”

“Dad, did you know that Aunt Dana and Uncle Mulder once arrested a man that was half-worm and lived in a sewer?!” Michael exclaims.

“Tried to arrest,” Mulder amends.  “We only caught half of him.  The tail end, unfortunately.”

“Gross!” the boys cry.

“Really, Mulder?” Bill asks.

Mulder shrugs.  Bill sighs.

The End

[thursdayplaid]

There’s a Monster at The End of This Castle

Tags: Renfri’s Brooch, SYMBOLISM, Spooky, Horror, Unreliable Narrator, there are at least five ways of interpreting the story and they’re all valid, Geralt, Jaskier, Yennifer, Eskel, no spoilers but it’s creepy  

Geralt's on contract to slay the monster in the castle.  Jaskier stands on the marble floor in his bare feet and watches.  Renfri's brooch is in the bard's hand, Renfri's brooch is hanging from his neck.  Geralt needs to find the monster, it's dangerous.  Geralt needs to protect Jaskier, he doesn't understand the danger he's in.

Notes: I posted this on Ao3 but I love this creepy fic and want it on my blog.  I've written things because they need to be written in a flurry of possessed inspiration and I've written things because it was something that I wanted to read.  I read the summary for chasing_the_sterek's lovely fluffy story: 'it's what my heart just yearns to say' and both happened.  (You can find the story here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23561143)  This is still one of the favorite things I’ve written - even if it’s not my favorite version of it.  It's weird, it's all context clues, and it's spooky.  While there are some theoretical interpretations that are off base, the majority of interpretations of the story are totally valid so take what you want from it.  It may not be quite the thing for tumblr, but it’s quite the thing for my blog and if that’s not my tumblr experience I don’t know what is!

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Jaskier is small under the vaulted ceiling of the main hall, the heavy velvet of the hanging banners are too good quality to molder yet, but they are dark with dust.  “If you could have one blessing,” Jaskier says, eyes lit bright by the torch in Geralt’s hand, “What would it be?”

Geralt looks at him.  Renfri’s brooch is smooth and hand-warm in his palm, edges smooth and rounded from careful crafting.  It’s been with him for a long time: a little over ten years.  It fits his palm like it’s an extension of his body, the stones catch the candlelight like they’re winking.  Jaskier’s words are so precise, enunciated - recited, that they have to be from something.  A play or a ballad, an epic from the blessed paradise of Oxenfurt.  The inside of the castle is cold and gray, he feels like he’s in a cave, the way the dark wraps around him like walls of stone, a hollow in the earth.

“Is that from one of your songs?” Geralt asked him.

Blinking in genuine surprise, Jaskier pulls back to look at him as though a view further back would improve him somewhat.  “Why would it be from one of my songs?”

Geralt doesn’t know anything about art.  He understands it as little as it understands him.  He can read enough to do his work but finds anything other than the most straightforward of records to smack of dishonesty.  A frigid wind whips its way viper fast through the cracks in the wall.   The feeling of having his skin shredded by the cold is so intense he almost touches is face to see if he can feel the twisting ridge of his cheekbone through the slivers of flesh and muscle.

Jaskier is clapping as he sings on a determined mission to go through all the verses of Fishmonger’s Daughter that he knows.  There was the faun, the dragon, the witch – which had been particularly dirty, and other verses on and on until Jaskier faltered.

Geralt clears his throat as delicately as he was able.  “Acted like a whore for a big manticore.”

The bard’s smile grows huge, his eyes glowing with a joy that filled Geralt with an equal mix of delight and terror.  He throws his arms around Geralt’s neck and made a sound like a laugh, like sunrise, like Geralt is a person.  “I knew you’ve been listening to me!  All these years and I had a budding bard all along!”  

The firelight tints Jaskier’s pale skin toward green, he looks like a god of spring time.  They hold hands and dance round and round and round.  In Geralt’s long life he can’t remember laughing this much or this hard, or even just indulging in something so silly.  Jaskier is smiling, as he moves so quick in Geralt’s arms, a shadow that’s crawled its way up from the ground to have its go of a life.

“Eskel, what are you doing here?” Geralt asks.  “Did the Countess not tell you I had taken the contract?” Lettenhove is bright and loud, a thriving city but one that is not so big that there should be a mix up like this.

Eskel stares at him.  His silver sword is in his hand gleaming with oil.

There is a rustle and Jaskier emerged from the dark, picking through rubble with his soft broad bare feet, there’s nothing wrong with them but to Geralt they look like a child’s feet for all that there is hair on the toes.  Jaskier should have better shoes on, where are his boots?  “Hello Eskel,” Jaskier says, his voice soft in a way that is strange, that makes Geralt’s head hurt.  “Come sit by the fire with us.”  

Eskel looks between the two of them, nods.  He doesn’t look right, there is something off about him.

Geralt needs to finish the contract, he should finish searching the castle but he hasn’t seen Eskel in what seems like forever and Jaskier is as likely as not to trip, fall, and get himself killed.  Doesn’t he know there’s danger here?  He puts a hand on Jaskier’s back, pulling him close to his side as they walked so they had to walk in step not to fall over each other.  For a moment the bard looks enraged, feral, and then his face smooths and calms.

When they get back to camp Geralt feels enraged himself.  “Jaskier!  I told you not to let the fire go out!  You know there’s a monster in the castle!” his voice is too loud, he’s shouting too loud.  “You’re a moron at the best of times, but I thought I could expect you to have the good sense not to sit in the dark waiting to be killed!  You could be hurt, this isn’t a fairy tale!”

Eskel moves past them, rearranging the fire and getting it going again.  He seems unnerved.  It’s not like Geralt to lose his temper like that.   Geralt sits Jaskier down and arranges him in place, smoothing down the collar of his camisole loose and open and is half-tucked into those colorful trousers of his.  The sleeves are red, the sleeves are so red. He wants to sit next to Jaskier but he is too angry so he paces until he calms.

He can’t speak to Jaskier without losing his temper so he speaks to Eskel.  “We’ve hunted together before,” he says.  “It’ll be pleasant to do again.  I’ll even split the money with you, it’s no problem.”

Eskel looks at Jaskier first, Jaskier’s back is to Geralt so the bard’s expression is obscured.  The dark line of leather Jaskier uses to hang Renfri’s brooch under his shirt looks like a wound against the back of the bard’s neck.  A wound in the dark black with blood.  There is an impulse to stare and an impulse to tear his eyes out, he does neither.  Then Jaskier turns to face him.  “If you could have one blessing, what would it be?”

“I don’t have time for your recitations,” Geralt tells him.  “Eskel, shall we?”

“Yes,” Eskel says, but he doesn’t seem as happy about it as Geralt expects.  

Pointing at Jaskier, Geralt says with as much menace as he’s able.  “You don’t know what the monster could do to you out there in the dark.  Stay.   Here.”

“Alright,” Jaskier agrees, easy and turns his head away again.  He speaks to the fire in a light dancing voice.  “Remember Eskel, Geralt has always been a better swordsman than you.”

It’s an odd thing to say, but Jaskier has always been an odd duck.

When he and Eskel wander far enough away out of earshot, Geralt puts a hand on Eskel’s shoulder.  “Are you alright?”

“Am I alright?” Eskel looks at him with open shock, he looks stunned.

He doesn’t know how to say Eskel looked hesitant to go with him on the hunt.  Doesn’t want to imply that his feelings were hurt or something equally ludicrous.  Witchers don’t have feelings, they don’t care about people.  “Do you have enough coin?  You’re handling things?”

“Yes, Geralt,” Eskel says slowly as if trying to feel his way toward what Geralt means.  “I have enough coin.”

“Because if you need this contract, it would be alright, I’d let you take the money.  I wouldn’t want Jaskier to get a big head, but he makes enough singing that it would be okay.  We manage fine.”

Eskel stares at him.  After it’s been so long Geralt is afraid he misspoke, Eskel nods at him, slaps his shoulder.  They patrol for a long time, talking to each other.  In an attempt to cover his previous misstep, he asks about Lil Bleater.  It’s good to reminisce although its clear something is weighing on Eskel’s mind or perhaps he hit his head, Geralt suspects that might be the case.  There’s white in Eskel’s hair.  That happens sometimes when there’s been a cut to the head.

Eskel will tell part of a story and then ask Geralt about it or he’ll get a detail wrong and Geralt will have to correct him.  Each time such a sad, hurt, hopeful look comes over Eskel’s face that Geralt doesn’t want to say anything about it.  He’s not good with words.  Eskel doesn’t even remember how long it’s been since they saw each other last.  If Eskel’s memory is going how could he hope to help him.  They walk through the ballroom, up the stairs to duck in and out of the bedrooms, looking under beds like they’re children playing Hunt and Snare in the barracks when the master witchers aren’t paying attention.  The castle must have been beautiful once with its bright colored stained glass and its marble floors, the room full of dried flowers, red-brown sheets, and the piles of sheet music.  Now it smells like an old tomb, skin turned to paper and bones to old wood.  There is white in Eskel’s hair.  This makes his head hurt again.  Eskel goes to open a door, but Geralt saves him.   “There’s a cave in on the other side, it’s quite a drop.  A step through the door and you’d fall to your death.”

Eskel looks at him just like he’s been looking at him all night.  It’s like a joke in a foreign language and it makes him uncomfortable.

“It’s hidden again,” Geralt finally says when the night has begun to tilt its way into very early morning.  The monster is sly, it doesn’t want to be detected.   “We’ll have to search again tomorrow.”

Eskel claps him on the shoulder, “Sure.  I can set up camp next to your fire in the front hall.”

“Jaskier better be there when we get back.  I’m tiring of his wandering,” Geralt said.

“Why don’t you tell him that staying by the fire is the one blessing you want?” Eskel asks, mouth quirking up at the joke.

Geralt slams him against the wall so hard that for a moment he thinks he may have killed him, but he is so angry.  He is so angry.  He doesn’t care. It should hurt.

“Don’t you say that to him!” Geralt roars, he doesn’t recognize his own voice.  He’s never sounded like this even at his most monstrous.  “Don’t you ever say that to him!”  He can’t cry, witchers can’t cry but he howls against Eskel’s chest.  He howls like the cold wind with its mouth full of venom.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he tells Jaskier as the bard follows along behind him with shadow soft footfalls.  “It’s dangerous, you’re going to get yourself killed.”  The bard’s shirt is so red, it’s like a flame to a dangerous, vicious moth.  He keeps telling the bard.  There is a monster, it will kill him if it’s able to, it can’t be taught or trained or tamed.  It is a monster, it destroys things.  It destroys people like Jaskier who are human, who can be killed in so many stupid ways.

“I need material for my next ballad,” Jaskier replies, he almost seems to dance as he walks.  He holds Renfri’s brooch in front of his face so it looks like it’s smiling at Geralt and then moves it to reveal his own smile.  Geralt smiles back at the bard’s silliness.  Jaskier is a living illusion, looking dainty and fragile until someone stumbles too close and realizes how broad in the shoulder and tall he is.  The man is a sort of magician. “It’s called the Witcher and the Brick Wall.”

Geralt can’t help being curious.  “Does he climb the brick wall?”

“No, he bangs his head against it.”

Geralt stops to look at him but Jaskier just smiles and tucks Geralt’s hair behind his ear.  It makes Geralt feel odd when Jaskier does things like that.  When he’s kind.  It makes Geralt afraid although he doesn’t know why.  He doesn’t know how to act around Jaskier.  He doesn’t know the rules of engagement.  He’s holding Renfri’s brooch in his hand.  He’s had it for ten years.  It’s been a reminder a weight on his back, longer than he expected – ten whole years without being lost or stolen.  He has a habit of losing that which is most precious.  He had been worried it would slip away by misadventure, that he’d wouldn’t listen or be too slow to protect it – things of value were chewed up and spat out by the world, but no.  The brooch lasted, his knew its shape in his hand.  He could pick it out blind from a pile of gold, from its weight on the swing of a sword, from the way its shape made it smile at him in the dark.  Jaskier asked about it of course.  Jaskier was always so curious about the mundane parts of being a witcher.  

What Geralt ate, how he made his potions, why he sharpened his sword so often.

It is part of being careful.  Geralt might yell but he has never done anything to hurt Jaskier.

His head hurt.

He has never done anything to hurt Jaskier.

His head hurt.

HE HAS NEVER DONE ANYTHING TO HURT JASKIER.

Jaskier takes his hand.  He is barefoot and his shirt is so red.  He puts the brooch into Geralt’s hand.

“Geralt,” he says.  “If life could give you one blessing.”

A woman with dark hair is in the entry hall talking to Jaskier.  It makes him feel weird, to see a stranger talking to the bard.

“We have a visitor,” Jaskier tells him.  His fingers are curled around Renfri’s brooch, it doesn’t bother Geralt.  It’s big enough to fill a hand but not small enough to make a fist around.  Jaskier is tactile, he likes to touch things to understand them.  He touches the little potion bottles to understand them, he touches Geralt’s armor to understand it, he touches Geralt’s face to understand it.  Jaskier will give the brooch back when he’s done.

“Hello,” he says gruffly, usually that’s enough.

She just blinks at him, her eyes are a startling shade of purple.  Everyone just looks at him.  “Hello back.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt tells the bard.  “It’s one thing to have a conquest in every city, it’s another to bring a woman to a place where there’s a monster.”

“You don’t know me,” the woman says.  Her dress is odd, he’s never seen anything like it.  He doesn’t pay a great deal of attention to women’s fashion but even he would notice how odd her dress looks.

“No offense miss, but I try to stay as far away as from Jaskier’s bardic romances as I can.”  Something occurs to him.  “Are you the Countess de Stael?”

She makes an odd noise like she swallowed a peach pit.  “No, not the Countess of Stael.”

“Geralt’s memory has been a bit take it or leave it,” Jaskier says, shrugging.  

Geralt says, hurt in a way he can’t articulate.  “I remembered the Countess of Stael, didn’t I?  And you only mentioned once that you met her at the festival of yours.  My mind’s like a steel trap.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” the woman muttered to herself.

For the next few days he runs into her everywhere, poking around with an odd lantern.  “What’s that?” he asks her.

“That’s right,” she murmurs.  “After your time.  It’s just a lantern, a more modern version.  Lasts longer.”

He can see that, he’s not a rube.  He’s been around, he’s seen things.  “I don’t know what Jaskier told you about magic and adventure, but I’m on a contract.  There’s a dangerous monster here.  You should be careful.”

“Alright,” she agrees.  “I’ll be careful, I promise.”

In the morning there’s a pile of molten metal on the floor of the great hall, there’s a fire that’s big enough he has to pull Jaskier back from it.  Jaskier is just standing there watching because of course he is, nothing on his feet, no armor, nothing to defend himself with but Renfri’s brooch in his hands.

“What are you doing?” he roars, he isn’t sure who he’s roaring at.

The woman stares at him.  Why is everyone always staring at him?  She looks at him with his arms holding Jaskier behind him but she speaks to the bard.  “I thought it had to be his swords.  What else could it be?   Jaskier, what is it keeping him here?  I’m running out of things to burn.”

“Then stop burning things!” Geralt yells at her.

“How should I know?” Jaskier replies, dull and mulish.  “That’s the sort of thing a friend would know, not me.”

“Jaskier,” she says, her voice turned dangerous.  “You have to stop this.”

“Half my life,” Jaskier tells her.  “Half of my life.  I’m not stopping anything.”

“Jaskier,” she says, the word like a drawn sword.

Jaskier’s shoulders drop in defeat, he holds his hands behind his back with his fingers tucked into the opening of the brooch.  “You think I don’t know how this turns out?  What we’ll become?  It isn’t me, alright?  I’m too vain to allow myself to…”  He looks at Geralt with a crooked smile.  “I guess Geralt does value my companionship after all.  I appreciate your help, Yen.  But.  This is better than it was at the beginning.  At least he’s stable now.  I’m keeping him stable.  He’ll understand when he wants to understand.”

Who were they talking about?

“Alright,” she says.  She rubs her face with her hands.  “Alright.  I guess I’ll check in in a hundred years.”  

Jaskier smiles at her, his expression full of relief.

The woman hugs Jaskier and she seems to want to hug Geralt as well.  Geralt isn’t used to anyone hugging him but Jaskier and he doesn’t know her.   She feels dangerous.  She seems unhappy but she leaves.

There is a monster with a silver sword.  Jaskier is fleet of foot even without shoes.  He runs, away from the fire but toward Geralt.  He moves as though carried on the air.  He is beautiful, like an arrow set loose.  The cold wind screams and whistles its way through the cracks in the castle walls.  The relief on Jaskier’s face when he sees him almost knocks the air out of Geralt’s lungs.  Ducking his head the bard slides like silk, like a whetstone along a blade under one of the witcher’s outstretched arms to hide behind the wall of muscle and armor Geralt creates just by standing still.   Geralt can’t find his swords, so he leaps on the monster with his bare hands.  The cold wind cuts into his bones, into his skin, into his gut.

Geralt has always been good at defeating monsters, even when he didn’t want to be.

Jaskier takes him by the shoulders and leads him back to the fire.  He sits him down.  “Don’t you worry about a thing.  Jaskier will take care of everything.  Just sit right there and look at the fire and here’s Renfri’s brooch and just-  Think witchery thoughts.”

Geralt looks up at him.  He wants to ask what’s wrong, he wants to ask why Jaskier is acting like that, he wants to ask Jaskier to stay by the fire.  He holds Renfri’s brooch in both hands.  It is familiar.  He’s had it for ten years.  They would sit by the fire and Geralt would sharpen his sword with it smiling up at him and Jaskier would sing and Roach would nibble on the leaves of low hanging branches.  It was a reminder that he must always be careful.  “Where’s your lute?”

“Some place safe,” Jaskier says.  “I know every secret hidey hole in these halls.”  For a moment, Jaskier presses their foreheads together.  “You are Geralt of Rivia.  You’re Geralt of Rivia, okay?”

“I know who I am,” he says.

Jaskier hugs him tight for a moment and then runs off into the dark.

Geralt wants to finish his contract quickly.  He worries about Jaskier who has barely any sense to speak of and acts like he has even less.  The monster here is dangerous, wicked.  It could kill the bard with a word. Jaskier’s going to get himself killed.  There’s something wrong with the potions in Geralt’s bag.  Some of them are missing.

Are they?  His head hurts.

Where are his swords?

Jaskier stood under the vaulted ceiling of the castle.  His feet are bare, his sleeves are so red, there’s a sword in his hands held out and offered to Geralt.  The witcher examines it, it’s been well-tended, cared for.   Its pommel is different than he’s used to, a cat’s head is at the end.   It is a silver sword though, it must be his.   Geralt hangs Renfri’s brooch on its leather tie around Jaskier’s neck and smooths it flat against his chest.  Jaskier’s smile almost falters, his body bowing as though under the weight.   The brooch is finely made and smiling, he’s had it for ten years.  It’s a remarkable brooch, he can’t hold onto anything for ten years.  Witchers don’t have treasured possessions, to treasure something is to beg the universe to snatch it away.  Loving something is just begging for destiny to swoop in with death on its wings.  Things are so fragile.  But.  It’s a good brooch.  As familiar as a shadow.

Jaskier smiles at him, standing so still by the firelight.  His skin is so pale and his sleeves are all red.  The flames are bright.  It’s a decent fire, it’ll keep the monster away. “Geralt,” he asks.  “If life could give you one blessing, what would it be?”

[cartoonfangirl1218]

Mistletoe

“What can I help with, Elena?” Mateo asked as he strolled into the palace living room where Elena was elbow-deep into a box full of streamers, wreaths, bows and other Navidad decorations.

“Oh great, you’re here, Mateo!” Elena sighed gratefully, “I’ve already decorated most of the rooms but it always takes two to put up the high-up decorations’ She gestured to the arch of the doorway he was standing under.

“I’m always here to help.” Mateo shrugged off his green coat that he wore to journey from a visit to his Mom’s home. “Still I must say you’ve done a great job on your own.”

And it was true, though he had only properly viewed the living room, from what he saw of the palace, it was truly the Navidad season. There were bows on every piece of furniture, the ever present smell of gingerbread and tamales, candles lit the grand staircase and one can see pile of decorative presents at strategically placed corners in the halls.

As for the living room, it too had presents and bows and such stuff, but the Navidad tree was the true centerpiece.

“Thank you.” Elena beamed, “I just really love Navidad. Mami, Isa and I would spend the whole day decorating for it. We even made some decorations ourselves like this.” She held up a rather weathered wreath with browning pine needles and a faded white paper ribbon that Mateo could see was adorably scrawled with childrens’ drawings.

Mateo smiled, both at the wreath and at the nostalgic gaze that touched Elena. She looked so thoughtful, so beautiful when she was lost in thought.

Mateo shook his head to try to rid of that irritate thought. The one that added how beautiful Elena was with everything she did, or however she looked. Not that it was easy. Mateo thought Elena always looked amazing.

Mateo internally sighed. He had been trying to fight his feelings but it was impossible.

He tried to act normally, he didn’t make any motion to treat her especially different from how he acted with Naomi or Gabe, but he couldn’t help himself. With her, he felt himself soften a little. He felt closer to her in that if there was ever a choice between personal glory and Elena’s, he would try to help Elena achieve her triumph before him. He felt like he could be more vulnerable around her. He could confide in her about his fears and insecurities. He didn’t feel like he needed to hide any part of himself from her. And what’s more, he didn’t want to. Which is why this crush feeling was killing him.

“What would you like me to do first?” Mateo asked going for lightheartedness while these thoughts swirled in his head.

“Just help string these across the walls.” Elena handed him a string of popcorn and cranberries, and three wreaths to obviously hang at intervals.

Mateo carefully took them from her arms and climbed up the step stool that was by the wall so he could up the string by the nails already in placed. The only sound being his muffled ouches from the pine needles scrapping and Elena singing softly under her breath.

“You need nothing more than those you adore. On this holiday, let love light the way.”

An unconscious smile quirked the corner of Mateo’s mouth as he listened to one of his favorite sounds in the world. Elena’s voice.

With Elena’s lovely singing filling the silence, Mateo’s thoughts wandered off to how much he cared for the crown princess.

He supposed it had started sometime around the aftermath of Fiero’s first attack and when she proclaimed him her only choice for the royal wizard. There was just something, like a feeling of gratitude that she saw something in him that he hadn’t been able to believe in himself. A magic within as she sang it. She had been the only one who showed such trust and belief in his magic skills. He didn’t want to let her down.

He had thought that was normal. Some friendly devotion between princess and royal wizard, between friends. But then he began noticing Elena even more. The way her optimism lit up whatever room she was in. Her devotion to her kingdom. How she always believed in the best of everyone. Her strength after everything she had gone through.

The more time he spent with her, the more he wanted to get to know her. He learned some of her fears and her weaknesses and that only fueled his desire to help her. He wanted to be the one she could lean on. He said it as much when they went to Vallestrella, “I’ll always be here for you, Elena. No matter what.”

He would have to be crazy not to notice her gorgeous looks too. Her kind, enthusiastic face whose smile was like the sun, her bright eyes… he could go on and on about the multitude of traits that separated Elena from anyone else Mateo had ever met or even heard about.

His feelings, all the things he liked about her had become even stronger during the past month as Elena flitted about with her plans and excitement for the coming celebrations. During Navidad, Elena seemed particularly aglow with happiness and joy, and her dresses gave her an air of exquisite grace--like she was always floating with its fluttering silks. She was wearing the white and red poinsettia-like dress again, but she paired it this year with red velvet with fur around the cuffs and lining.

And her spirit was infectious, it just made Mateo want to sing along with her.

It was one of the many things that made him love her. The way she brought everyone together during the bright and dark times. He enjoyed those lighthearted moments as much as he treasured the faith she had in him during the bad. He only hoped he wouldn’t come to fail her in future adventures.

Suddenly Elena’s voice startled him out of his thoughts.

"Can you help me?" Elena asked with a surprising demure voice.

"Yeah, yeah, of course!" Mateo answered enthusiastically so that’s why he took a pause before walking bringing his step stool to the other side of the archway that Elena was decorating. He didn’t want to appear too eager.

“Thanks so much for the help. I wouldn’t know what I’d do without you.” Elena made an exaggerated swipe of her brow as if the whole decorating business was an exhausting manual labor.

“It’s no problem.” Mateo played along, flexing what few muscles he had like Gabe would.

Elena turned to look at him with a gaze much more thoughtful than before, “I just want to say thanks in general. You’ve done a lot for me this year. Well, ever since I met you really. You’ve really been there for me no matter what.”

Mateo blushed at Elena’s compliment, busying himself with a random streamer so she wouldn’t see his burning red face. Then they lapsed into silence once more.

It was probably for the best. He didn’t want to say something so obvious like what he did was nothing, she was the one who was amazing. She was so compassionate and determined and strong, everyone was lucky to have met her. Or say something about how gorgeous he thought she looked and then for her to realize what a lovestruck crush he had. It would completely ruin their friendship. No it was best to keep that to himself.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t aware of her closeness. Electricity ran down his spine every time they brushed against each other and he even got a sniff of her hair as she leaned over him to fix a lopsided bow. It smelled of pine needles and traces of hot cocoa. All the enticing scents of the season that he associated with peace and happiness, also associated with her. It was intoxicating.

A few minutes or maybe a half-hour later, Mateo wasn’t sure-time always seemed to fly by when he was around Elena, they stepped down their respective stools to look over their handiwork.

“I think it looks gr-” Mateo began to say when he was cut off by Elena suddenly grasping his shoulder. Another shock of spine tingles that made him shudder.

Mateo whipped his face around to see what had brought on her gasp. She was staring up at the chandelier which sparkled with the crystal it was made of as well as the opaque candles that had been placed in the candleholders that gave it an added ethereal glow. The whole thing was so sparkly that Mateo almost missed what truly got Elena’s attention.

It was a tiny sprig of green shrubbery with a red velvet bow tying it to the chandelier. It was so auspicious, it was like it was a teasing child, winking with mischievousness.

Mateo looked up and felt his world froze for a moment.

Mistletoe...the meaning behind it laid thousands of situations and opportunities for him to come out of it, both good and bad.

Instinctively he looked toward Elena to see what she was thinking, even though a small part of him feared that she would recoil in disgust. Even though he knew that situation was irrational. She was far too kind to do that. At most she would make a polite diversion.

But when he looked at her, no polite diversion was coming from Elena’s lips.

Elena was looking at him with a warm smile. He knew she should be used to such looks from her by now but it still took his breath away. Never in his life had he thought he would fully trust in someone to see him and think of him as strong and capable and wise like he was worthy to follow the legacy laid by Alacazar.

Something else was in her eyes that made him blush though. It was the sparkle. A roguish sparkle in her eyes to be exact. The kind that Mateo had seen a few times when Naomi admired Gabe’s handsomeness. And it was directed at him.

Mateo never thought of himself as particularly handsome, not to the likes of Gabe. Him, guapo was not the first word to come to mind. Maybe skinny, lanky if he was asking his mom. But not guapo. The idea that Elena would see him as guapo seemed ridiculous but with how she looked at him, a slight brush staining her cheeks, he allowed himself to imagine that she did and that twinkle wasn’t just a roguish twinkle of mischievousness at the situation they had gotten themselves into.

Elena had sidled up against him, not to make the first move but to grasp his hands. His hands were still somehow cold, but hers was incredibly warm and she widely played with his fingers. Mateo couldn’t help but note that they were almost the same size. He saw her cast a furtive glance between his lips and the mistletoe, she opened her mouth and then closed it. A blush starting to spread across her face. Once more she looked uncharacteristically demure.

The realization hit Mateo like a lightning bolt. Was it possible?

Elena’s second false start fixed Mateo’s feelings of indecision. She quite possibly liked him, and clearly she wasn’t sure if she should act or not because she didn’t know his feelings.

What were the words she had just been singing? Let love light the way? Yes, he would let his love light the way!

This was his chance to be bold and do it. To reveal all he felt to her. That he loved her. Her passionate, competitive, impulsive, enthusiastic, hilarious, vulnerable, compassionate, capable self in all her flaws and strengths. He just loved her.

Mateo took a step forward and cupped her cheek, tilting her chin so their lips were almost pressing each other. It was just the two of them, and as he stared at her warm brown eyes, he felt their surroundings fade away. As she leaned in, he felt his senses heightened to all sorts of small points that he didn’t have time to fully appreciate before like ruffle of her dress, the faint whiff of the wreath with its pine needles. But overpowering all these senses was the heat of their bodies, so close they were to another.

He licked his suddenly dry lips in anticipation, and his heart pounded faster than before. Before he could even lean in, Elena, his impatient spitfire, pulled him towards her. Their lips crashed against each other with longing fervor that Mateo felt was equal to the blast of magic he used all those years ago when he fixed the snowstorm on Navidad. That snowstorm could happen again tonight, blast all the cold air in but he wouldn’t notice. Losing some of his self-conscious inhibitions in the heat of the moment, he boldly slid his arms around her waist to pull her closer.

As they came apart, he chose not to move. He just felt the warmth of their arms around each other and the smell of her shampooed hair and savor the feeling of that he was floating on air. He couldn’t believe he kissed Elena!

And from the slight sparkle in her eyes, it seemed like the moment wasn’t just going to end there with the mistletoe.

“Mateo,” Elena said, her tone full of meaning, “I liked that.”

“Me too.” He stuttered, a hope rising in his chest that he couldn’t quite hold back and at the moment, he thought there was no reason to. A sort of calm overcame him too. Relaxing him. This feel right. The kiss, holding hands with her right now. It all felt right. He always felt a bit uller, more whole when he was with her.

Elena smiled, “Feliz Navidad, Mateo.” The words were simple, platonic-sounding to any outsider. But they both knew that it meant so much more.

Without words they were confirming that something special had grown between them. A love that was cemented through the experiences they shared together, the concerns and joys they had in common and the simple fact that they seemed inextricably drawn to each other’s lives. There was no one reason or maybe a whole host of reasons, but they felt the best when they were together.

“I always have a Feliz Navidad when I’m around you, Elena” Mateo smiled and kissed her once more on the lips, savoring the sweet smell of yule log and pine, with his heart  bursting with happiness for the Navidad holiday and the princess beside him.

[eternityunicorn]

Christmas Wishes +18

Author: eternityunicorn 

Genre: Romance/Tragedy/AU

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Camille O’Connell

Warnings: Smut

Summary: AU Set in Season 3 - Elijah Mikaelson is devastated. Camille O’ Connell was bitten by an enhanced Lucien Castle and is now dying. Ironically enough, it’s nearly a year exactly into her life as a vampire when it happens, meaning it’s nearly Christmas time again. To make her last day memorable, the Mikaelsons throw a lively party, allowing Elijah to make a Christmas wish.

AUTHOR’S COMMENTARY: Yet another Camlijah story is here! Again, this comes at the suggestion of the lovely @elejah-wonderland​, who is officially my Camlijah partner in crime...lol! Just forewarning you, my lovely readers, this is a sad Christmas story, because I apparently insisted on writing it that way. Even so, I hope you enjoy it!

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They had tried everything, but noting worked. Camille O’Connell was dying from Lucien’s poisonous bite. She was alright for now, but everyone knew that it was only a matter of time before she perished, much like Finn Mikaelson already had. 

It was tragic. 

Now, most would assume that Elijah’s little brother, Niklaus, was the one who felt the tragedy of her soon-to-be loss the most. By all appearances, they were the closest, particularly in recent times when it became clear that the hybrid didn’t have romantic feelings for Hayley after all, but did, in fact, still felt deeply for his therapist. 

However, though nobody knew it, it wasn’t the younger Mikaelson who was the closest to the lovely blonde.

It was the older Original that felt the most for Camille, particularly her inevitable loss. He had kept himself at bay when his brother made his feeling plainly clear for the woman, despite the memories of intimacy that haunted him. He couldn’t forget those moments that they had shared together, the ones that were just for their knowledge and nobody else’s. 

The truth still remained a secret, hidden inside his heart forever. 

Even so, it had been Elijah’s idea to give Camille one last hurrah, in order for everyone to show their love for the dying woman, so that she could go to the next world in peace. It was nearly Christmas time again, nearly exactly one year since she turned into a vampire. So, the Original decided that they should have a Christmas party, inviting the city to the Mikaelson Compound to celebrate, not only the holiday, but her life. 

He had even taken it upon himself to make the preparations, while Niklaus stayed with the lady vampire. He went to each faction, inviting them all to a day of peace and camaraderie personally. Of course, he also told them of Camille’s terminal diagnosis. Once he did, they all agreed to attend without protest. 

The young woman had touched a lot of lives in the French Quarter and they all wanted to pay their respects to her. 

Before long, everything was set up and ready. 

The compound courtyard where the party was to take place had been decorated from top to bottom with garland, lights, and colorful bulbs. A giant white Christmas tree with colorful lights had been erected as well. Tables that were filled with holiday food and drinks a plenty had been set out and a deejay had been compelled to play music.

Yes, this night would be perfect. 

Soon, the party was in full swing. Everyone from all corners of the Quarter had come as requested. The festivities were jubilant, just as Elijah had wanted them to be. After all, this was a celebration of life, not a mourning of death. 

The unity between the factions of the city for Camille was something extraordinarily amazing. It was touching. 

Soon enough, Niklaus brought the lady of honor down from the upstairs rooms to join the rest of them for the party. She had weakened considerably and had to hang onto the hybrid’s arm for support, but she looked lovely anyway, dressed in a simple white dress with her golden locks hanging loosely around her shoulders.

The look of wonder on her sweet face was something that would be burnt into Elijah’s memory forever, joining the others that he’d cherish always. His breath was stolen. She was beautiful, and while he had always known that, he simply hadn’t realized how drawn to that beautiful light of hers until recently. In fact, he found himself moving through the crowds of people toward the lovely blonde as she came down the stairs. 

Once Camille reached the bottom, she let go of his little brother’s arm, standing on her own rapidly weakening strength. Many people gathered around her to greet her. Some were witches, others wolves, and others still vampires. None of them looked sad or sympathetic or mournful. No, they all smiled brightly at her, wishing her a Merry Christmas and showing her nothing but their happiness to see her. 

Then the young vampire’s blue eyes met Elijah’s brown ones upon his approach and sparks immediately flew, unlike ever before.

Politely, the older Original smiled and held out a hand to the young woman. “If you’d be so kind, Camille, would you join me for a dance?” He asked her. 

With an exhausted, but bright smile, she nodded and took his hand in hers, letting him lead her onto the dance floor amongst the many other guests. They came together, swaying to the rather loud and obnoxious music. He held her closer than was necessary, holding the dying lady against him intimately and didn’t care who saw him do so, not even Niklaus. 

“This is a lovely Christmas party, Elijah,” Camille said. “I’m glad that I get to enjoy one more before...before the end.” She looked down sadly.

“Let’s not talk about what will come,” he replied sternly, lifting her gaze back up to his own. “Tonight is for you, my dear. A night of celebration, in honor of a wonderful woman who has touched the lives of many and is loved by all who know her, including myself.”

The blonde smiled as tears welled up in her eyes at his touching words. “Elijah, that’s so sweet! It means a lot to me,” she replied, and taken by emotion, she leaned in to kiss his cheek. 

The Original wasn’t at all surprised by her display of affection. In fact, he welcomed it readily. 

When she leaned back to beam at him, he found himself smiling at her just as brightly. His heart was full of emotions for this woman and for the moment, none of them were focused upon the devastation of grief over her unavoidable fate that he couldn’t not stop nor the regret he felt over not realizing he had fallen in love with the lovely therapist ages ago.

No. The only things he felt for her right now were feelings of joy, contentment, and deep affection. This was perfect. 

Eventually, after dancing for what seemed like hours, Elijah invited Camille to go somewhere private with him. He had bought a simple gift for the lady and had wanted to give it to her in a place where it was just the two of them. 

The elegant vampire brought her into his study, where he opened one of the drawers in the desk and pulled out of a medium sized jewelry box. He had acquired the contents weeks ago when he had realized his true feelings for her and had hoped to have the opportunity to confess them to her with the romantic gesture. 

Though he understood that Niklaus was in love with Camille too, Elijah simply couldn’t deny himself the chance to tell her how he felt any longer, in hopes of finding out that she felt the same. 

Originally, when he had formulated this plan, the ancient vampire hadn’t expected this moment to come in the lady’s final hours. It was supposed to be a happy moment with long term intentions, a future that they could share together. 

As usual, he had held back for too long, waiting until tragedy happened to let go.

Pushing that terrible truth out of his mind, he went to the expectant lady and presented her with the red velvet box. “I got this for you,” he told her, as he opened it and showed her what was  inside.

Camille’s eyes widened in surprise. 

There was a matching set of diamond earrings and a white gold necklace with a diamond pendant, all shaped like stars. It wasn’t much, only a small token, but Elijah thought that the set were perfect for the young vampire. They had spoken to him, reminding him of her, when he had first laid eyes on the jewelry. 

“Elijah, it’s gorgeous,” the therapist awed, gazing up from the box at him. “But what’s the occasion? I mean, I know I’m dying and it’s almost Christmas, but why would you get me this?”

“Well, in truth, I have a confession to make,” Elijah answered, putting the box down on his desk and lifting the necklace out to put it on her, which she allowed by turning around and pushing her hair out of the way. “As you know, for certain reasons, I tend to keep others at bay and more so, I make it a point to keep my feelings for others hidden. For their own protection mostly - and my own. However, every now and again, I tend to meet someone who breaks through my defenses, rendering me unable to hide my affections.”

Once the necklace was in place, the Original paused to collect the star shaped diamond stud earrings and handed them to Camille, who gladly put them on. 

He licked his lower lip and then carried on, “I know we’ve shared intimacy a few times in the past, and at the time, I didn’t know for sure what it meant, the draw I had to you. I was a fool. But I know now. And though you don’t have much time, Camille, I have to tell you just this once, before it’s too late, that I love you.”

The dying woman didn’t look surprised by his confession. In fact, she looked relieved. 

“It’s about time,” she said with a small smile, closing the distance until they were mere inches from each other. “Took you until I was dying to confess the way you feel about me. Though, I suspected it all along, particularly ever since our road trip. I suppose the delay is to be expected and I suppose it’s better late than never, as well.”

Elijah flashed her a tiny lopsided grin, “Is this your way of saying you feel the same way about me, Miss O’Connell?”

The blonde vampire laughed lightly, “Yes, yes, it is!”

Then Camille reached for him, grabbing onto the sides of his face and drawing his mouth to hers in a tender kiss. His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him, while the other reached to cup the side of her neck, taking control from her. His tongue demanded entrance and she granted it without hesitation, letting him sweep inside her mouth to taste her hungrily.

Yes, this moment made the evening perfect. Though, he would forever regret not telling her how he felt sooner, Elijah was glad that he finally got around to doing so, even though their time was short.

Suddenly, his thoughts were disrupted when Camille’s legs gave out and she let out a moan of pain. The Original pulled back to see her distressed. It seemed their time was shortening quicker than he had hoped. By the way, she looked up at him weakly in apology, it was likely that she wouldn’t last the night.

Though, there wasn’t any surprise in that. Freya, Elijah’s older sister, had already said as much, which was why he had put together the party still going on downstairs. 

The Original lifted the weakened woman up into his arms like a bride and carried her into the next room - his bedroom, where he laid her down upon the bed gently. She moaned in pain again, but opened her eyes to gaze at him lovingly. 

“I know that I don’t have a lot of time left,” Camille told him, “and I don’t want to die with any regrets. So, I want you to make love to me, Elijah.”

“As much as I would love to, I’m not sure that is such a good idea,” he replied gently, sitting on the edge of the bed beside her. “You need to conserve your strength, dearest Camille, and I should probably gather the others, particularly Niklaus, so that we can all be with you...in these twilight hours of yours.”

Weakly, she sat up part way and reached for his arm as he moved to get up. She grinned mischievously at him despite her weakened state. “In a little while, perhaps. You know, the last time you told me something wasn’t a good idea, it ended up working out rather well,” she said. “You didn’t want to go on that road trip, but once you were convinced, it was the best time you had in a long time.”

Elijah chuckled, recalling that road trip vividly, “True, but circumstances are different this time, I’m afraid.”

“Please, Elijah?” She practically begged him. “Grant this dying woman’s wish?”

“Camille -,” he began to protest again.

The weakened woman gripped his wrist firmer as she sincerely said, “Today was supposed to be the beginning of the rest of our lives together, but due to circumstances, we only have tonight. So, please Elijah, stay with me - be with me.”

He laughed gently, tempted into doing as she asked, and leaned over to kiss her lips gently. “You are very persuasive, do you know that? I cannot resist your bewitching words.”

It was her turn to laugh, but it was swallowed up by his kissing her again. This time, it was more passionate, heated and full of want. If she wanted one last night with him, then who was he to deny her? After all, it was her dying wish. 

Knowing time was short, the elegant vampire made quick work of his own clothes, using his heightened speed to undress until he was bare of clothing. Then he joined Camille on the bed, coming to rest between her parted thighs and resuming his kissing of her. Just from the intimacy of their bodies so close to each other, he was aflame with desire for her, despite her fragile condition.

He didn’t dare tear her own clothing from her since it was the only ones she had. Instead, Elijah simply hiked up her dress until it revealed the majority of her creamy flesh to him, save for her undergarments that covered her intimates, and set to work loving her body. His hands caressed her soft skin unhurriedly and his lips followed their trail, down her form. 

Then he lifted her hips and pulled her white panties from her, exposing her wet center to him. The scent of her arousal was already strong and it only served to make him more hungry for her. He tossed the thin scrap of material aside, moving up to capture her mouth in a heated kiss again, before letting his lips caress her cheek, her jaw, and then her neck in loving, open mouthed kisses. 

Simultaneously, he moved into position between her thighs, lining his hardened cock up with her moist heat and slowly sinking into her until he was fully seated inside. Despite time being not of abundance, the Original was unhurried in his taking of the lovely blonde. He movements were gentle and full of care - and love. 

Camille sighed and moaned, curling her limbs around him loosely, her strength weak. He could feel the festering wound from Lucien on her arm as it scraped against his skin, but he paid it little attention. Elijah was completely focused upon the woman he loved, focusing on the bliss of being with her and nothing more.

Soon enough, his strokes grew in intensity, as he began a quicker pace, at her encouragement.

“I love you, Elijah,” Camille sighed in his ear as she pulled him against her. 

The Original groaned into her neck. Her words made his heart soar. However, he kept the regret that threaten to well up inside him for not getting an earlier opportunity to hear those words from her lips at bay. He wouldn’t let it ruin this moment. They were together now and that was all that mattered.

“I love you too, darling,” he murmured back. “I always well.”

They began to pant and moan in unison as his hips moving faster still. The pleasure of being with this wonderful woman, whom had done so much for him and his family, began to take hold of him. 

It was the same for her too. She began to arch into him, her nails raking his back as she did. Her walls began to constrict around his cock, signally the end was near. 

Then it happened and Camille quietly cried out into the room, as her orgasm took her. Her end brought about Elijah’s own and with only a few more quick, hard thrusts, he was spilling inside her with a mighty groan. 

Before he could slump against her, he rolled over and drew her to him, so that she cuddled into his side, as to not force her to take his weight in her weak state. 

They didn’t speak for a long time, only enjoyed the bliss of being together. Nothing else mattered for a little while longer, but eventually the reality of what was happening to the young woman couldn’t be ignored. Her breath became labored and it was obvious her strength was leaving her quickly. It wouldn’t be long now. 

“You know, every Christmas season my family makes wishes for the future,” Elijah murmured into Camille’s hair, as he stroked her side tenderly. “Do you want to hear my wish for you, dearest Camille? Do you want to know what I hope for?”

“Sure,” she sighed into his chest. 

He smiled with sad fondness, “What I wish for this Christmas is that one day you and I will meet again, not here in this life, but in the next one. I hope that we will find each other in the afterlife, and that there, we shall find the upmost happiness together that we were denied here. I apologize for taking so long to give you my love, but it is yours. Always and forever.”

Camille hummed weakly, but said nothing. She had fallen unconscious. 

Yes, it wasn’t long now at all. 

Gently, Elijah removed himself from her embrace and laid her back against the pillows, knowing he had to go tell the others what was happening. However, first he redressed himself quickly and put her panties back in place, as well as put her dress down so that it covered her form. He made certain that nothing was out of place, though he didn’t have the heart to move her from his bed, despite knowing it would raise questions.

It didn’t matter now, if her presence there did. His love was leaving him, going to a place he could not follow. 

Before he left the room, Elijah pressed his lips to her forehead one last time and received her thoughts. 

“Elijah, I have a Christmas wish for you too,” she said to him in her mind. “I wish for you to not mourn me. I wish wholeheartedly for you to simply cherish the time that we had together. Finally, I wish you noting but happiness going forward. I do hope you find happiness, somewhere, someday, and not just you, but Klaus and Hayley and Freya and Vincent. I love you all, but I love you the most, Elijah Mikaelson...always and forever....”

With tears in his eyes, the Original pulled away from her. His heart threatened to shatter with the loss he felt, knowing within a short time, Camille would be gone forever. However, he had to smile, because he also knew that she would be watching over him and the others too, like the angel that she had been in life.

Knowing that brought comfort to him, as did the hope that his Christmas wish would come true, that one day, they would be together again in the afterworld. 

In the meantime, Elijah swore that he would do his best to make her own Christmas wish for him and his family come true. He would bring peace to them all, in honor of Camille, the woman he had loved and lost all in the same night. 

And he’d have her shining light to guide him. 

His very own angel.

The End

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Tag List: @elejah-wonderland​​ @dendrite-lover​ @inmylifeilovedthemall​ @missnmikealson​ @esclisa​ @freshsuitcasewinnereagle​ @elejahforever​ @xanderling​ @darknightfrombeyond​ @wings-of-an-angel​ @lolelijahishot​

[herondaleholly31]

“Watch it Fred.” Ben Hardy!Roger Taylor X Reader

Side note:It should be illegal to look that good I’m SORRY 

Overview: You go to A party at Freddie Mercury’s house with your boyfriend Roger, and things gets heated in more ways than one. 

AN: Iya lovesss! I wanted to write an imagine based of this scene in BR as it was one of my favorites, although that might have been because Ben Hardy being protective is everything I needed in my life. I hope you guys enjoy!

Like and Reblog! 

Word count;1400(ish) 

It was a party like you’d never seen before. The  house, normally so clean and empty except for Cats and Freddie’s piano, was  now full of exotically dressed people that you’d never seen before. Women  with sparkles adorned on their bare chests and heads, men wearing brightly  colored top hats and Stage makeup, their eyes popping with excitement. The place was already a mess of streamers, empty glasses and spillages of colors that made you instinctively avoid them. As you walked in, a waiter offered  you a drink. It tasted strong and expensive, but you downed it not wanting to  seem rude. The sound was so dense against your ears you didn’t hear anyone  talking to you until someone spoke low in your ear “fancy exploring?”

 Roger Taylor’s White jacket and shoulder length  blonde hair seemed to shine in the low lighting of the hundreds of fairy  lights. His blue irises had darkened with attraction as he pulled you close.  His cologne was intoxicating and gorgeous; it made you weak at the knees.  You leaned into him, playing with his collar “and why would we do  that?” 

 “So, we could finish what we started earlier,”  His voice graveled slightly as he lent down and brushed his lips over the  soft spot on your neck where the hickey he left earlier was covered by  makeup. A chill of euphoria shot over your skin. He smiled knowingly. For a  moment the pair of you forgot that you were stood in the lobby filled with  hundreds of people, all of whom recognized the drummer. His finger pads  stroked down your back as he wrapped his arms around your waist. You  desperately wanted the pair of you to go into a dark corner so you could  explore each other, and judging by Rogers heightened breathing he was  thinking the same. 

“Roger you’ve been here for five minutes, can you  PLEASE refrain from ripping Y/N clothes off until we say Hi to  Freddie?” 

Brian, Deaky and their wives were all watching  with varying expressions of embarrassment, humor and annoyance. You laughed;  Roger uttered a whine of frustration. 

“C’mon” you untangled yourself and held out your  hand “let’s go find Freddie.”

“But- “

“We’ll finish this later.” 

“You promise?” Roger smiled. 

You winked “I promise.” Biting his lip Roger took  your hand and followed you. Your group of six squeezed through the swelling  crowd as you went from room to room. You were followed by yells of  recognition, screams of excitement and calls of devotion to the band mates of  Queen. A lot of girls particularly screamed for Roger. As always, he was  polite and laughed off their drunken advances, but when he could he would  smile at you reassuringly and never he never let go of your hand. 

 Eventually you reached what Freddie liked to call  his “entertainment room” where beautifully stitched sofas and marble  counter-topped coffee tables huddled around in a circle in the center of the  room. These were covered with haphazard trays of finger foods and abandoned  half drank glasses of champagne. The carelessness of wealth seemed odd in a  room where so many times you’d spent time with your friends, playing cards  and cuddling Freddie’s cats.  It was alien, and totally unlike Freddie,  and the look on Rogers face matched the same look of surprise.

 Standing on the largest table In the center of the  room was the host, Freddie Mercury. He was dressed, naturally, as a Queen. A bejeweled crown sat on his messy curls, his chest bare underneath the  matching velvet jacket also adorned with jewels and Patches. When he saw you,  his face broke into his iconic wide smile.

“Look who’s late now Darlings!” He jumped down  and embraced his fellow band mates, kissing the wives on the cheek and then  coming up to you last. “I can see that Mary helped you with your outfit  choice,” he smiled at your off the shoulder red body con dress and black belt  that synced your waist in “you look ravishing.”

“Thank you, Fred!” You smiled, kissing him on the  cheek. He passed you another drink and offered you an open seat. You went to sit, but Roger gently pulled you onto his lap; shuffling his legs so you  rested comfortably against his chest. Your temples gently knocked his shoulder as you cuddled into him.

“What’s with the party Fred?” Roger asked. 

Freddie shrugged “I wanted to cause a mess,  something as wild and eccentric as me.”

“Well you’ve achieved that,” Deaky said as he  watched a man walking on his hands juggle empty champagne bottles with his  feet to wild cheers from the audience. 

 “Fabulous isn’t it?” 

“If you say so.” Brian laughed. Just then Paul  appeared, smiling with his flashy grin. No one smiled back. You felt Rogers  chest rise more as he bristled with annoyance. You rubbed the side of his leg  trying to keep him calm, but to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid  you didn’t get up to move to greet  Paul like Freddie did. 

“Everyone enjoying the party?” Paul’s Irish Lilt  slurred slightly as he filled up Freddie’s glass. Roger offered his glass to  be filled, but Paul didn’t fill it. Instead he moved so he was closer to  Freddie, his eyes shining with glee.

 “You’re starting to look like each other” Brian  pointed to the matching mustaches. 

“What’s wrong with that Brian?” Paul asked, but  his gaze had hardened. Unperturbed, Brian’s tone had a slight bite 

“You’re supposed to be in a rock band Freddie.”

 Freddie ignored him. He was too busy listening to  the music blasting from the other room. 

“Come on! Let’s dance.”

“I don’t dance” Brian said. The conversation  muddled in a chorus of story-telling of Brian’s dancing, but you noticed that  Roger wasn’t speaking. You lent closer to him so your conversation couldn’t  be over heard “you alright love?”

 “He’s really pissing me off,” Roger scowled. You  didn’t need to ask who he was. 

“Take my drink,” you offered your glass “I’m not  feeling it right now.”

“You okay?” Rogers eyes flashed with worry “we  can leave if you want.”

You shook your head “I just don’t like being  around Paul too much that’s all. You know I think he’s a creep.”

It was instinctive for Roger to tighten his hold  on you, wanting you to feel safer.He played with the hem of your dress, “Want to go do that exploring  instead?” 

You giggled “is that all you’re thinking off?”

“It doesn’t help that you’re sat on me,” Roger winked “all I can think about is you.” 

 The conversation was starting to get louder, so  now was the time to sneak away. Wriggling to stand you grabbed Rogers hand  once more and pulled him up. 

“We’re gonna go actually” Roger called as he went  to drag you away, but Freddie blocked him. 

“Roger don’t be dull-if you were anymore dull  you’d be Deaky.” 

“What you complaining at?” Roger frowned “You’ve  got your little pet.” He shot a dark look at Paul, who’d slid over to listen in. There was something about him that caused you to grip onto Rogers hand  harder, and this caused Roger to hate him even more. 

There was a shift in Freddie’s jubilant facade.  He now looked hurt, almost irritated. “I have, and he’s loyal. Loyalty is so  important,” he turned to look at you “wouldn’t you say Y/N?” 

“Careful Fred,” Roger Warned. His tone didn’t  change, but his free hand had curled into a fist. He’d also pulled you in a  bit closer, shielding you with his body from Paul, who wasn’t attempting to  hide the joy in his face as he watched the two friends fight. You tugged  Rogers hand and he pushed past Freddie, still keeping you close. You were  able to thank Freddie for the party before they were lost in the crowd, and  so you just concentrated on the mess of blonde hair that guided you up the  stairs to the top floor landing. As you’d climbed up the stairs the groups of  people had dwindled until it was just the occasional couple kissing on the  stairs or someone snoring loudly in a drunken mess.

Roger pulled you so the two of you were in  shadow, his eyes wide. “I’m sorry Fred said that” he said. “It’s the drugs.  He doesn’t mean it.”

“I know,” you nodded. You both stood there,  breathing in a second and allowing your ears to get used to lack of noise  pressure. 

“Your makeup’s smudged,” Roger smiled, gently  swiping a thumb back over on the patch on your neck. The bruise blossomed on  your skin. Once again Rogers eyes darkened. He leaned in and locked his lips  with yours, and you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.  Roger hummed softly  against your lips as he pressed every inch of his  body against yours. You leaned Into him, your hair tangling with his as you  two become more and more out of control. When he breaks the kiss Rogers hands  were shaking with desire as he cupped your face. “I think there’s a room over  there.”

You raised your eyebrows “aren’t you wanting to  go home to do it?”

“I can’t wait that long,” he sighed, and he  started to gently push until your back was to the door. You fiddled for the  Door knob and cried with soft delight when it opened. Not even looking to see  if it was empty.  you pulled Roger into the darkness, enjoying the way  his lips felt against your neck as you picked up where you left it off. 

[littlepanduh-writes-365]

Day 27

Title: “Loss of Communication”

Features: Joyri (Red Velvet)

Word Count: 1198

Tags: fluff

Inspiration: Communication is important in the relationship. How the heck are y’all gonna communicate if you don’t have her number?

“Oh, my goodness.” Yerim pulls Seulgi behind a pillar.

The older friend just gives her an odd look. “What are you hiding from?” She peaks behind the pillar, but Yerim just pulls her back.

“We gotta get out of here.”

“Yerim, I refuse to leave the food court. I’m starving and I already paid for this food.” Seulgi starts walking back. 

Yerim follows behind but keeps her head low. 

Thankfully, their food is called quickly. 

Yerim quickly pulls them away. 

“Yah. Kim Yerim. We have to eat in the food court. I can’t eat this curry bowl without a table.”

The two settle to sit at a table at the edge of the food court. Luckily for Yerim, the person in question was nowhere in sight.

“Care to tell me why you’re cowering away?”

Yerim doesn’t like the term, but checks around the vicinity. She notices the coast is clear. “Remember how I went on that group date with Jiwoo and Yoojung and them?”

“Yeah. You said they set you up with another girl.”

“And I just saw that girl! Here! Today! At the food court!” 

Seulgi raises an eyebrow. She doesn’t understand why Yerim was on edge. It’s not very Yerim of her. She turns around in her chair, but Yerim pulls her away. 

The elder is annoyed by the reaction, but then has a mischievous smile. Yerim was typically the calm one. She was cocky and savage. Where did that go?

“Yerim, what happened last Friday night?”

Yerim bites her lip. She remembers telling Seulgi about how they clicked and she gave her number to her date. Yerim failed to mention what happened after. 

“So after the date, Sooyoung walked me home.”

Seulgi softened up. “That’s cute.”

Yerim put her head in her hands. “Okay, but I was really dumb and clumsy in front of her! I don’t know what happened!

“First, I almost crossed the street without looking both ways. She had to grab my hand so I wouldn’t get hit by a car. Then, I walked right into a pole because I was too busy staring at her. Ugh! And then this happened!” Yerim rubs her fervently rubs her face. “I got so lost in conversation with her that I forgot where I lived. We somehow skipped a street and I tried to play it cool by mentally thinking of where we were on the grid, but she caught on.”

Seulgi inhales through her teeth. “Yikes.”

“I tried to play it off by pretending I was drunk, but doesn’t that just make me look like a slob? I wasn’t acting that way at all during dinner!

“Anyways, she asked for my number so she could check on me in the morning because she was worried about how drunk I was. I told her to text me when she got home.”

“Okay?” Seulgi had a perplexed look, waiting for the crisis in this situation. “I don’t see the problem with what you did. Seems very courteous of you. That’s a good thing.” 

Yerim bites her lips and takes a deep breath. “She never texted me.”

Seulgi rolls her eyes at how dramatic her friend was being. “Maybe she forgot.”

Yerim pouts. “Am I really that insignificant for her to forget me? She told me she’d check on me and then she doesn’t? After that embarrassing night, she just forgets about me?”

It was only then that Seulgi understood the situation. Yerim uncharacteristically was acting like a fool, embarrassed herself in front of a girl she liked, only to be ghosted. 

Seulgi would probably feel the same. 

“Yerim!”

Seulgi had never seen Yerim so terrified. She turns around to see the owner of the voice.

Wow. She’s pretty, too.

“Hey, Sooyoung! How are you?” 

Both of the girls are feeling some sort of whiplash. They just finished re-living Yerim’s tragic night.

“I’m doing good. How are you?” Yerim gulped, self-conscious of having to crane her neck to look at Sooyoung.

Sooyoung just nods her head. “I’m doing fine. Just hanging out with my friend. This is Wendy.”

Yerim’s heart sinks a bit. Sure, Wendy was introduced as a friend, but that doesn’t make her less insecure. “Hi Wendy. This is my friend, Seulgi.” Seulgi then introduces herself.

“I’m glad I saw you. I was really worried about you. You never replied to my messages. I was worried you died or something.”

Yerim’s internal harddrive crashes at the words coming out of Sooyoung’s mouth. She needs a second to take in what Sooyoung just said. “Excuse me?”

Sooyoung raises an eyebrow. She pulls out her phone. “I texted you when I got home and the morning after. You didn’t respond.” The taller girl blushes a little. “I figured you probably didn’t remember me because you were so drunk so I didn’t bother trying to… pursue.”

Seulgi shoots a look at Yeri, that look of disbelief. It’s amazing how 30 seconds ago, Seulgi was pitying her. Now, she’s reminding Yeri that she was being overdramatic… again. 

The younger one whips her phone out. She scrolls through her messages. How could she miss a message from Sooyoung?

“I… I don’t think I ever got your messages.” She then shows her screen and then scrolls through everything.” (Seulgi thinks it’s funny that Yeri shamelessly showed Sooyoung all her messages.)

Sooyoung scrunches her eyebrows. Both Seulgi and Wendy stare at amazement. 

“This is your contact information, right?” Sooyoung shows her phone.

Yerim looks at the number. The first five numbers were correct. The next one…

“Oh my gosh. That’s not my number.” Yerim smacks her head. Maybe she was drunk? 

No. She was dumbly nervous and embarrassed. “Look. Sooyoung,” she stands up. “I’m sorry. I swear I wasn’t drunk on Friday. I don’t know what got into me, but I was kinda nervous and acting like a fool for some odd reason. I can’t believe I forgot where I lived and I input my number incorrectly. I swear, I’m not usually like this.”

Taken aback by how blunt she was, Sooyoung blushed at the confession. “Do you mind inputting your real number? Let’s meet up another time.” She then gives her phone to Yerim. “Just you and me.”

Yerim beams and takes the phone. She edits the contact information. She double checks to make sure everything was correct this time. 

She even checked the name… which was labelled as “Cute Drunk Girl”. 

Yerim smiles. She decides to change the name. 

“I’m going to call myself so I have your number. Is that okay?”

“Yeah. That’s smart.”

When she feels her pocket vibrate, Yerim hangs up and gives the phone to its owner.

“I’m glad to have seen you today. I’m glad we cleared that misunderstanding!” Joy smiles. Seulgi notes the honey dripping out of her eyes.

Yerim smiles. “I’ll text you.”

Sooyoung smirks, checking Yerim out. “I look forward to it.” She then grabs Wendy’s arms and they walk away. 

“I hope to see you again!” Wendy waves at both of them, but particularly gives a longing look to Seulgi. 

--

“Hey Sooyoung! This is the real Yerim. Sorry for the miscommunication again!”

Sooyoung smiles at the contact name. 

Fool for you

[thisway-imagines]

close encounters (berkut + #35)

35) we’re neighbours who don’t talk because you seem awfully grumpy but then you buy your dog a winter coat and shoes and i need a photo to show my friends

this is for you, @sol-sunshine!! this was meant to be a christmas gift but god writing is HARD. i honestly love you to the moon and back, and you’re such a blessing that i adore so much. your laughter is so contagious and you really are a beam of sunshine in my life. here’s some berkut B)

i made him soft because.... god he’s so soft with rinea.... 

It was another cold, December day - you were walking home from your campus back to your own little area as the snow gently fell onto the ground and the streets were finally quiet for once due to the ice. You sighed softly against your scarf, exhaling out a visible puff of air away as you shivered and snuggled against your scarf and jumper even further. It was surprising to see how still the atmosphere seemed to be today - you had gotten out earlier than usual today, so that might have contributed to how the silents the area seemed today.

For the most part, your neighborhood was a fairly friendly one. The community seemed to get along fine mostly, and you had no trouble chatting to the acquaintances around. But there was one neighbor who refused to open up to anyone, no matter how kind you were or whether you needed help from him.

Berkut.

You had heard plenty of rumors about him when you passed by the old women and teenagers who tend to gossip about the man – he lived in quite a luxurious place, yet couldn’t seem to share any of his aid with anyone else. The people chattered about him quite often, for no one really knew who Berkut truly was – and neither did you.

But what you knew was he was quite the sight to behold.

A smile tugged your lips when you recalled how you bumped into him that one time accidentally.

                                                           ---

You weren’t paying attention, for the wind was biting against your skin and all you wanted was to get home. Closing your eyes for a second, you shivered as you continued to walk – but right at that moment, it was unfortunate for you that you had accidentally walked right into someone…

“Fool! Can’t you watch where you’re going?!”

Shocked by the sharp voice in front of you, you snapped out of your stupor to see a man (who was quite handsome, you had to add) looking disgruntled and rather grumpy. “Oh, I’m sorry – I wasn’t quite noticing my surroundings due to the cold,” you apologized, “but there was no need to call me a fool.”

Letting out a harrumph, the man could only scoff. “You better notice your surroundings next time. I’m quite in a rush to get home – the weather is getting too cold for us.”

Us?

Suddenly, you heard a whine.

Peering below the man’s legs, you saw a little dog sitting on the pavement patiently; its little eyes staring back at you with curiosity, starting to walk up to you as it sniffed your leg curiously. It was a husky, still a small puppy from the size – and as you cooed and reached out to pet the pup, the man cleared his voice loudly to catch your attention. Now looking up, you realized that he no longer looked annoyed – he looked embarrassed instead 

“Come now, Velvet! No more dawdling here – it’s getting cold!”

Brushing past you somewhat roughly, the raven-haired man walked away (and looking even grumpier than before) – and when you stared back at the fleeting figure, his dog (Velvet, it seemed to be called) looked back at you until it walked alongside its owner again, both disappearing from your line of vision. 

What an odd man, you thought to yourself. He was rude but… there’s something about him that doesn’t seem like he’s all that bad either.

Arriving back to your home, you were surprised to see Alm by your door, seemingly waiting for you despite the cold. Once his eyes were set on your figure, he smiled widely.

“[Name]!” The green-haired boy greeted, grinning from ear to ear. “I’ve been waiting for you for a while now. What gives? Did you forget we had a project to do together?” 

Then everything clicked into your head – you did have a science project to finish together. You had totally forgotten about it until now; all you desperately wanted to do after getting out of campus was to go home and sleep. The biting cold and the odd (yet somewhat charming) man you bumped into had distracted you from your tasks, and you felt your face flush.

“Oh, I totally forgot – sorry!” You apologized immediately, but fumbled in your bag to get your keys out. “But let’s have this discussion inside – it’s freezing out here!” Laughing, Alm nodded as he waited for you to open the door. Once you both got into your house and you locked the door again, both of you kicked your shoes off and went to the living room to slump onto the couch.

“I’m so glad to be home,” you groaned loudly, “it’s been a long day.”

Alm laughed again, his bright smile always etched onto his face. “I think I can tell. What happened to you?”

You started off with a sigh, but you continued about how tiring your day was after your lesson with Alm, how cold the way back home was (your ride back home wasn’t here today, so you braved the weather for today, and how you met this handsome, raven-haired man with a cute dog named Velvet-

“Did… did you just say Velvet?” Alm suddenly sat up from his slumped position, looking at you with wide eyes. “That’s… that’s Berkut’s dog!”

Berkut?!

“Wait, did you just say Berkut-? How do you know him?” You asked incredulously, your eyes equally as wide as his.

“He’s my cousin! How do you know him?”

C-cousin.

“He’s the grumpy neighbor that’s next to my house! I’ve told you about him before, haven’t I? Berkut’s always the talk of the neighborhood!” You exclaimed, bouncing up from your position on the couch as well.

Your friend slapped his hand against his head, as if realizing something crucial just now. “I should’ve connected the dots together faster, haha! Well, that’s Berkut for you – we weren’t really on the best of terms before, but we’ve been meeting eye-to-eye better after a dispute we had,” now laughing sheepishly, Alm looked away from you. “No wonder this place looked familiar.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, staring at Alm’s averted eyes. “At least you two have amended things, right?” Hearing no reply from him, you asked something else. “Does Velvet love you?”

Brightening up significantly, Alm immediately replied: “Yeah. Berkut loves her a lot – and unlike her particularly grumpy owner, she’s quite fond of people as well. You know, when I first met her, she even jumped on me!”

As both of you laughed, you started to finally get up from your slouched position. “Let’s talk about this over snacks, shall we?” You grinned as you stood up, winking at your friend.

Alm whistled. “Soooo… you’re into him, huh?”

“Shut up!”

                                                          ---

A quiet chuckle was released from your lips as the memory resurfaced again, Alm’s teasing causing your face to grow hot despite the cold. It had been a while since you had encountered Velvet and Berkut at all - the winter had been harsher this time around, and so you thought it was reasonable to not encounter anyone at all around this time of day. 

It’s so quiet... how peaceful. You thought. It’s nice to recollect my thoughts at some point, huh?

Closing your eyes a little bit, you buried your face further into your scarf to stay warm once again when a cold breeze hit you suddenly; your vision temporarily darkened when suddenly-

“A-ah-!”

You were about to take a tumble on the snow when you bumped into someone again, but the said-person had held out an arm to catch you just in time-

-but you both ended up falling on the sidewalk, with the stranger falling on top of you unceremoniously. You let out a groan of pain as the person grumbled against you, both of you stunned for a moment until you felt something licking on your face.

As you opened your eyes, you were met with Berkut’s flushed face and wide-eyed stare temporarily until he jolts away from yourself - then it dawned on you.

Berkut fell on top of you.

Now you were the one that was red-faced and wide-eyed, still on the ground as you opened your mouth to apologize-

“You-!”

“Sorry-!”

As you both started to ramble on with your apologies and his scoldings, Velvet stood there as she wagged her tail happily - and when she licked your face, you stopped your ramblings immediately.

“Velvet, can’t you see I’m in the middle of-” Berkut had started, but the cute, fluffy thing had already clambered on top of you and licked your face with joy. Now giggling at her wet licks, you sat up so you wouldn’t be towered by the sweet dog that was smiling on top of you. 

“Velvet!” You called out as you rubbed your fingers against her neck, with Berkut’s eyes widening at how familiar you already were with his dog. “It’s good to see you again - and oooh! What are you wearing?!”

The sudden mood change felt like whiplash for the man standing in front of your grinning self and his over-friendly dog.

“Woooow! Look at your cute little kangaroo onesie! Did your owner get this for yoooou?” You cooed out your vowels as you continued to smoosh Velvet’s face as she panted and smiled happily in your touch - you continued to giggle and kiss her face. “I have to take a photo of you for my friends! They just have to see you...”

...until you suddenly heard a small “ehem” in front of you.

Berkut cleared his throat, looking slightly irked as he looked down on you. “Excuse me-”

Now suddenly realizing you were essentially playing with a stranger’s dog, you laughed awkwardly and put down Velvet (who continued to stay by your side despite that you had placed her beside you). You stood up to scratch the back of your head. “I’m [Name]. It’s nice to see you again,” you smile apologetically, “and I’m sorry for bumping into you earlier!”

The man was taken back for a moment, for he didn’t realize how... how...

...cute you were, looking all sheepish like that. It was at that moment he realized that you...

Berkut shook his head sharply.

“...Well, at least you are in sound condition,” He concluded, sighing as he put a hand up to his face. “My name is Berkut. What are you doing out here?” He pointed towards the weather in general. “No one is out here during these hours.”

Well, I can ask the same thing myself, Mr. Grumpypants! “I’m just walking home from school,” you sighed as you motioned to the snow, “trust me, if I could stay cooped up in my house, I would right now.”

There was a sudden short, delightful laugh when you looked up again at Berkut - his smile existed, and it had gone too fast for it to register in your brain.

But you couldn’t help but be charmed.

“I see,” the smile disappears, but the tone in his voice still mirthful. “Velvet here still needs a walk outside, always,” the German Shepard whines in response, “and it must always be around this time. Can’t have it any other way - she’s too spoiled.”

As you laughed in response to his answer, you suddenly realized that... Berkut wasn’t really all that bad. Why would the neighbors talk about how grumpy and miserable he is while he was clearly laughing with you here, speaking so fondly of his (adorably dressed-up) dog? The thoughts ran rapidly inside your head, as you stood there in silence after the laughter died deep in thought, and-

“Achoo!”

You sneezed.

Berkut jumped slightly in surprise, but then relaxed again as he looked at you. “Ah, it must be getting colder,” he thought for a moment in silence just like you did before, his face as if pondering to find the right words to say. “Are you getting colder as well, Velvet?”

He bent down and let out his hand for her to beckon towards. She walked to him in response, nuzzling up against his outstretched palm for warmth.

“Then, I guess it’s time to go home,” he smiled softly at Velvet, ruffling her fur softly as she let out her own doggy-smile. As you stood there in quiet admiration of the cute scene unfolding in front of you, Berkut cleared his throat for the final time and this time, offered his hand toward you.

“Perhaps we could get to know each other more over tea and not through bumping each other once again?”

Your heart stopped for a moment as you looked at him with surprised eyes.

And daresay, lovestruck?

“O-of course. I’d love to get to know my next-door neighbor more, huh?”

He smiled again, and this time you finally captured it.

“Wonderful.”

[second-hand-heaven]

More Than a Butler

Alfred and the Waynes were very... close. Here’s a look at how close.

Ao3

Summ: “Can you love more than one person at the same time?” Bruce finally spits out, and Alfred can barely contain a laugh. Bruce turns to him sharply, eyes narrowed.

He should apologise for laughing at Bruce’s inner turmoil, but Alfred just smiles, not unkindly. “My dear boy, I very much hope so.”

Bruce has a personal dilemma, and Alfred has a secret. 

Master Bruce is in the den, curled up on the sofa like he isn’t a six foot two mass of muscle and scar tissue. He stares into the fireplace, thoughts elsewhere, not bothering to look up as Alfred enters the room. There was no patrol tonight, not in this harsh weather, and Alfred considered it a blessing to see the master of the house take a night off.

There’s still tension in Bruce’s shoulders, something unsettling him. It can’t be a case, or else he’d be locked away in the Cave, so it must be something of a more personal variety. The only solution on Alfred’s part is to wait and offer guidance if asked- and maybe before he’s asked, if Master Bruce is particularly slow. Alfred sets down the tray on the coffee table, the teacups never shifting in their saucers. “I thought you might like some tea,” Alfred says, pouring two cups. Bruce says noting, not that Alfred had expected him to. For a man as perceptive as Bruce, he could zone out with ease within the walls of this house, unaware of another’s presence.

The portrait of Martha and Thomas sits above the mantelpiece, their faces younger than that of the painting in the hall. Alfred smiles up at them softly, adding sugar to his own cup of tea. Even after all these years, he's never been able to kick the habit. Some things never change.

Saucer in hand, Alfred takes a seat on the sofa, perching beside Bruce. It’s only then that Bruce looks up from his silent contemplation. He makes it speak, then pauses, lips pursed. Alfred waits, takes a sip of tea, and waits some more.

“Can you love more than one person at the same time?” Bruce finally spits out, and Alfred can barely contain a laugh. Tea sloshes from his cup, pooling at the ridges of the saucer. Bruce turns to him sharply, eyes narrowed.

He should apologise for laughing at Bruce’s inner turmoil, but Alfred just smiles, not unkindly, and says, “my dear boy, I very much hope so.”

The Wayne’s were already married when Alfred began working for them. Young, intelligent, incredibly wealthy, both Thomas and Martha were stunningly beautiful. Right away, Alfred was half enamoured with the pair of them. It was their charisma at first, then later their unpolished charm, that drew Alfred deeper into the mess of unrequited pining.

It was the first rule of being ‘the help’: never fall for your employers. Or maybe it was the second rule, after ‘don’t steal the silverware’. Either way, there were lines that should never, could never be crossed. The Waynes were happily married, and Alfred was a chauffeur, nothing could ever happen. There were rules, goddammit!

But even in the SAS, Alfred was never the best at following rules. The rings on their fingers were a sore reminder each and every day, but he carried on as Pennyworths do. Jealousy was unbecoming, just as pining for one’s employers. But the Waynes made it so easy, with their soft smiles and invitations for private drinks. They were so easy to fall in love with, and so very hard to love.

. . .

It was a rare occasion to have only the three of them in the Manor, the Wayne household usually buzzing with activity. But tonight, the mistress had given the staff the night off, all of them except for Alfred. Thomas was home early from the office, a pleasant surprise. Alfred double checked the calendar to make sure he hadn’t missed a special occasion for the couple.

Alfred finished laying the table for two and called the Waynes to be seated. He pulled out their chairs and seated them, Martha first, then Thomas, placing the unfolded cloth napkins in their laps. Uncorking a fresh bottle of red from the cellar, he poured two glasses, and found Thomas holding out a third.

“Why don't you eat with us tonight?” Thomas asked, his smile broad and hopeful. “We do enjoy your company.”

Alfred frowned, “I don't think-” I don't think this is a good idea.

“Join us, please, Alfred,” Martha insisted. “The more the merrier.”

It was just the three of them, no one to comment on the lack of decorum in either party’s behalf. The alternative was a quiet dinner by himself in the kitchen, which sounded rather drab compared to the effervescent company of the Waynes. Not to mention, the sheer joy that arose at the thought of joining the Waynes for a meal, even if it were just a casual dinner. So Alfred nodded and fetched another dinner set, setting a third place at the table.

It was odd to begin with, but by the end of the entree, it was like they were old friends. And like old friends, the teasing was incessant, though Alfred gave back as good as he got. Thomas joked, Martha snooped, and Alfred gossiped. He nearly spat out his Merlot when Martha asked him, “are you seeing anyone?”

His cheeks nearly grew as red as the wine. “Ah, no ma’am. Seems I haven't had the time.”

Thomas frowned at him, calculating. “Perhaps you could do with some time off, have a chance to meet some new people?”

Alfred's eyes flew wide. “No! I mean, I'm perfectly happy with they way things are at present.” It was only a partial lie. “And really, could you survive without me for more than a day?”

Martha sighed dramatically, the back of her hand pressed against her forehead in a theatrical display. “We could never bear to let you go!”

“Insufferable,” Alfred huffed, with a smirk twitching at his lips. He played the unappreciated butler card countless times, much to their amusement.

“Oh but you love us, Alfie,” Thomas had said, jovial as ever as he clapped a hand on Alfred's shoulder. Alfred didn't correct him; there was nothing to correct. He just smiled demurely and took another sip of his wine.

. . .

It happened more often that Alfred had anticipated, Martha and Thomas inviting him to join them for dinner, or drinks, or other small activities. One night they would play poker, where Martha cleaned both Thomas and Alfred out, and the next they would simply sit by the fire in amicable silence. Together, the three of them would relax, enjoying one another’s company, and it pleased as much as confused poor Alfred.

Other times, they would come to him separately. Martha would insist he join her in the garden while she tended to the rose bushes she adored so greatly. He learnt the best times of year to prune, when to be harsh and when to be gentle to them. He learnt his mistress’ favourite strains and her desire to breed new ones. He learnt the sting of a rose thorn is nothing compared to unrequited longing.

Thomas would invite him for a game of chess, played with a glass or two of top shelf brandy and those cigars that Martha detested. They'd talk, mostly about nothing, sometimes about Martha: her new hat, what she'd like for her anniversary, a movie she was interested in seeing. Alfred kept it professional as always, but something at the back of his mind craved more, craved an intimacy unrestrained, an intimacy he could never achieve. So instead Alfred took another nip and moved his bishop. “Checkmate.”

. . .

For the Waynes’ upcoming wedding anniversary, Thomas had Alfred drive him to a jewellers in Midtown, high end, awfully exclusive. Expecting instructions to drive around the block for a while, Alfred was surprised to hear Thomas ask him to park and follow him into the store. It was hardly the first time his master had asked him along for such errands, but to help choose an anniversary gift? It was too much.

But still, he followed Thomas into the store just like he'd follow Thomas across No Man's Land, with a raised eyebrow and a quickening step. They browsed through the cabinets, Thomas touching Alfred’s arm any time he saw something of merit, excited like a child. After what felt like hours of looking at diamond after diamond, Thomas had grinned down at him and asked, “what do you think she’d like, Alfie?”  

Alfie, such a term of endearment. How could he so much as think when Thomas called him such a name. “I-uhhh.” Alfred could feel a blush spread across his cheeks that refused to budge. “Pearls,” he suggested, “a rather elegant look, I’d think, sir.” A string of pearls, tight around his mistress’ taut and regal throat, made a beautiful picture.

“Thomas,” the doctor corrected, but he still nodded, pleased with the verdict. “Pearls it is,” he said, and asked the sales assistant what they had with pearls.

. . .

Later that night, they gathered in the den, Alfred serving some coffee, when Thomas produced a box done up in an elaborate bow. The box from the jewellery store, Alfred recalled, and was about to leave the room to give his employers some much needed privacy.

“These are from us,” Thomas had said as he handed the gift to his wife, oblivious to Alfred’s shock. “Alfie helped pick them out.” He pressed a kiss to Martha's cheek, so intimate that Alfred had to look away. “Happy anniversary.”

She opened the box and gasped at the sight, two strings of pearls laid out across navy velvet. Hand to her heart, she said, “thank you, boys,” and held up the pearls to the light, examining their shine. “They’re beautiful.”

They were superb, Alfred had to agree. They might even be worthy enough to decorate his mistress’ throat.

“Alfred, dear, would you mind?” she’d asked, holding the necklace to her throat with one hand, the other holding her loose hair away from the chain.

Him? Unsure of what games his employers were playing, Alfred played along. He crossed the room until he was behind Martha, and with shaking hands he took the clasp. His fingers brushed against Martha’s as he took hold of the fastener, a simple touch that he could never forget. He tried to close the clasp, but his hands, hands that never shook in the heat of battle, would not comply. He felt a brush of fabric against his back, a seam from a lapel perhaps. Alfred swallowed thickly, not daring to move.

“Nervous?” Alfred heard Thomas say, impossibly close to his ear. “Don't be. Let me help.” Thomas’s hands covered Alfred’s, the surgeon’s hands steadying the soldier’s. Together, they worked the clasp of the necklace around Martha’s throat. “Done.” Thomas announced, but didn’t let go of Alfred’s hands. Alfred held his breath as Thomas brought their joined left hands to his lips, a feather-light kiss ghosting across Alfred's knuckles.

Alfred jerked free of Thomas’s grasp, and spun across the room, trying to put some distance between them. “What on Earth is going on?” Alfred cried, humiliation burning in his throat.

Martha and Thomas stared at him in shock. “Alfred, we-” they tried, but Alfred cut them off.

“No, I will not have this… this teasing any longer.” Anger melted away until he was left with resignation and a hopeless sadness. “I thought I could conceal myself, my feelings, but I was incorrect. I-I apologise. I will be gone before the morning.”

Martha blinked at him. “Alfred, we aren’t teasing.” She moved closer and closer to Alfred, who was frozen to the spot. “We want you, if you’ll have us.”

Alfred spluttered in disbelief. “What?”

“We’re serious,” Thomas said, now at his wife’s shoulder, “we’d like you to join us. Intimately. Not just for tonight.” He took Alfred’s hand in his, rubbing his thumb over Alfred’s knuckles. “An arrangement between the three of us could be most rewarding.” His smile was welcoming, sincere, and Alfred could not bring himself to believe their words to be a lie. He thought of the dinners with just the three of them, the late night drinks. He thought of Martha's smile amongst rosebuds, Thomas’s lips wrapped in a smile around a cigar, idle chatter and warm touches. They wouldn't lie to him, not now.

“But,” Alfred tried to protest, but the only excuse that came to mind was “it’s your anniversary?”

Martha grinned, taking hold of his tie and pulling him down close enough for a kiss. “Think of yourself as the gift,” she whispered, before closing the distance between their lips.

. . .

It was a messy affair, with plenty of near-misses, but no one in the Wayne household was stupid or brave enough to mention it. It would have been worth the scandal, he had decided, just to have had a moment with them. But there were plenty of moments, both luxurious and short, where the three of them could be together in the most casual and intimate ways. It was easy for Alfred to love them, far too easy.

It all came to a head when they found out Martha was pregnant. A joyous occasion, surely. But the question that none of them were willing to ask was, of course, whose child would it be? Alfred knew, in name at least, the child would never be his, and it hurt more than he could admit.

That night, Thomas had found him on the Manor roof, with a bottle of whiskey and two cigars in hand. He sat beside Alfred, their shoulders pressed together, and lit both cigars, passing one to Alfred. In silence, they smoked and drank, watching the Gotham skyline light up the night.

“Shouldn’t you be celebrating with your wife?” Alfred had finally said, looking anywhere other than at the man beside him. “It is, after all, your child.”

But Thomas would never rise to Alfred’s bait. “You know,” Thomas said, taking another swig, “I quite like the thought that it might be your child.” Alfred had gaped at him, cigar nearly falling from his hand until Thomas took it in his own, stubbing out the cigar against the roof tiles, but keeping hold of that hand. “We love you, I love you, and by God will we love this child.”

Alfred nodded silently. He would, until the end of his days. The floodgates opened, tears spilling down Alfred’s cheeks. Thomas chuckled and held Alfred to his chest as he sobbed, whispering soothing words into Alfred’s hair, chest rumbling against Alfred’s cheek. The comfort of Thomas’s arms was almost unrivalled. “You’ll be an excellent father,” Alfred had said, once his tears had subsided. He pulled away, just a fraction, but kept hold of Thomas’s hand.

Thomas smiled and pressed the whiskey bottle to Alfred’s chest. “As will you.”

. . .

They never did find out who the father was. It never mattered. Bruce was their child, a child born to the three of them, no matter what the birth certificate said. For all intents and purposes, Bruce Wayne was the son of Thomas and Martha Wayne, and Alfred was a chauffeur, a butler, whatever his role was for the day. And that was okay. Bruce grew up in a household that loved him, his blue eyes always sparkling with mischief. As his hair changed from soft blonde to unruly, inky dark curls, they were none the wiser about his parentage.

Alfred worked in, for, a household that loved him, but loved him behind closed doors. The Manor afforded some privacy, but the public eye was ever-watchful. It was unheard of for a butler, or a glorified chauffer, to join his employers to the opera, to dinner, or to the theatre. So he would wait, always wait, and and try not to think of what could be.

He should have been there. He should have done something to save them. Too late, he heard of their blood and pearls spilled in a dark and grisly alleyway. He’d have collapsed in grief, but their son, his son, was alive. He raced to the scene and he clung to the boy tighter than ever before. Bruce was safe, and Alfred vowed to keep him safe for as long as he took breath.

Bruce gapes at him. “Alfred, I never…” I never knew.

The World’s Greatest Detective, deceived by an old man, he would laugh if it weren’t so painful to think about all the lies they told, even after all these years. “And you were never meant to know, not really. We wanted to tell you when you were older, but then…” but then they died. “I didn’t want the memory of your parents to be sullied,” he decides on saying, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Sullied? Alfred, it would never do that. You could never do that.”  There a certainty in Bruce’s voice that brings tears to Alfred’s eyes. “All these years, in silence?”

Alfred nods, tears stinging, unshed. “I loved them, Master Bruce, in silence or otherwise.” The truth fills the room, spilling across every surface. He looks up at the ceiling, taking a moment to compose himself. “So yes, I believe you can love more than one person at once. You are not broken, nor are you foolish or indecisive. Well, perhaps just a little foolish.” He sends a wry smile in Bruce’s direction. “But love is foolishness. And love is precious. Your love is precious, Bruce, don’t let it be silent.”

Bruce nods, his blue eyes glittering. Look at them, Alfred thinks to himself, two grown men brought to tears by love. Thomas and Martha must be laughing at them somewhere, surely.

Alfred clears his throat. “So, will Ms Prince and Master Kent be accompanying you for dinner tomorrow night?” It’s hardly a secret who Bruce could have meant, not to Alfred.

“Not tomorrow night,” Bruce says, though it’s not a denial.

Alfred hides the smirk that teases at the corner of his mouth. “The night after, perhaps?”

“Sounds good,” Bruce smiles at him and nods. He reaches across the space between them, covering Alfred’s hand in his. “Thank you,” Bruce says, and that’s all it takes for the tears to fall.

The figures of portrait above the fireplace watch on, smiles on both their faces.

FIN

[the-fashiongeek-blog1]

Top 20 Collections of FW18

    It’s officially t-minus one week until NYFW! With next season fast approaching, I thought I would take a look back at some of my favorite shows from the last go around. (a.k.a. a very long post under the cut)

20. BURBERRY     These days, trying to keep up with the turnover of designers at major fashion houses can make you feel like you’re watching a game of musical chairs. Christopher Bailey’s position at Burberry was one of the few constants. However, this season marked the end of his seventeen-year tenure at the British heritage brand. His final collection was an ode to the brand, the country, Bailey’s youth, and the LGBTQ+ community. Not only did he create limited editions Burberry’s iconic logo and check patterns with rainbows, he made significant contributions to charities and organizations like The Trevor Project that are focused on LGBTQ+ youth.     While it isn’t my favorite collection Bailey’s designed for the brand (hello, FW16), there were many pieces I liked. Some of the looks seemed a little busy, and would perhaps benefit from simpler styling. Look 68, for example, works better for me than look 64. Nevertheless, the clothes are fun and have an undeniable sense of joy about them. It made for the perfect sendoff for Bailey’s time with the brand.

19. CHRISTIAN SIRIANO     From one celebration of a designer’s career to another. This season marked ten years since Christian Siriano began his namesake line. I’ve been a fan of Siriano’s since his time on Project Runway, and his win at the end of the season came as no surprise. However, I haven’t followed his collections too closely since. It might just be a matter of personal preference - he plays a lot with ruffles and 80s-style proportions, which I’m not really a big fan of. But Siriano is clearly talented and his continued red carpet success is proof of that.     This collection was one of his first in years that really stayed with me. Some of the simplest looks were the ones that stood out the most, particularly the ones in glittering black velvet. Many of the evening wear looks were elegant and seem like they were made for each specific model. Siriano has been committed to working with diverse talents and promoting a wider range of beauty standards for a while now. His shows often have some of the most exciting casts on the entire fashion calendar and this year was no exception; the addition of Danielle Brooks and Selma Blair didn’t feel like a gimmick. They looked radiant in their Siriano creations. Every model did.

18. BALMAIN     Last go around, Balmain was probably the biggest disappointment of the season for me. I’ve consistently loved Olivier Rousteing’s designs for the brand, which was why I felt so heartbroken when I didn’t. This season had me falling for the brand all over again. The premise? Balmain, but in the future. The distant future. In a time when the world feels like a hot freaking mess, many look to the past, where nostalgia goggles have turned everything a nice rosy hue. Looking instead to the future is a nice change of pace, with a sorely needed dash of optimism. There was lots neon and PVC, as well iridescent and holographic materials. My favorite textile might’ve been the plastic that had an oil-slick-like sheen. Despite it being an unfamiliar fabric for the brand, the pieces still looked very Balmain.     So what is classic Balmain? During Rousteing’s tenure, it’s a mix of 80s glam rock, military influences, and current party girl looks. We saw all of those in this collection. There were plenty of intricate, embroidered mini-dresses, as well as some very 80s jumpsuits (thankfully sans shoulder pads). There were, however, a few pieces that were over-embellished, and those dreaded shoulder ruffles made an appearance. Still, the majority of the collection was strong and filled with pieces I would wear in a heartbeat.

17. SELF-PORTRAIT     I’ll admit I’m a sucker for collections with a strong central inspiration. (See above.) Han Chong’s most recent Self-Portrait collection was more subtle. The collection featured all kinds of garments, fabrics, and silhouettes. Rather than looks with variations on the same theme, he used many different techniques and details, blending them into a thirty-five beautiful looks. Each look was unique, but they could all conceivably be found in the closet of the same person. Of the different details, the use of large grommets in everything from skirt hems to dress sleeves was probably my favorite.     One of Chong’s more well-known design techniques are his off-kilter ruffles. I know what I said about ruffles earlier, but his are brilliant. They never seem to add bulk to the figure or the garment. Those ruffles were on full display in this collection. Particularly impressive were the pieces that featured this technique in plaid. Matching up prints, or arraigning them in a visually appealing way, is particularly difficult. The way Chong has pulled it off here shows both amazing design skill and craftsmanship. Also, those leather hip bags - all of which were worn under belts, conforming perfectly to the body - were the most stylish answer to the fanny pack trend I’ve seen yet.

16. CHRISTOPHER KANE     After one of my favorite Pre-Fall collections, I was eagerly anticipating Christopher Kane’s next runway show. Not only was the campaign/lookbook aesthetically pleasing, but I loved the use of crystalline fringe. So I was of course delighted when his most recent collection brought it back. Unfortunately, it wasn’t featured that heavily. Similarly disappointing was the fact that he used a particularly beautiful lasercut pleather-and-lace textile only once. His clever use of zippers on sweaters, skirts, and dresses was delightful and I would wear those rhinestone-covered shoes in a heartbeat.     However, not every look was a homerun. The looks that featured marabou at the hems were mostly lost on me. Bulky hems, particularly on lightweight fabrics, can cause a garment to hang weirdly. Maybe it was just my dislike of marabou in general - I wasn’t a fan of those feathered shoes either. The finale looks featuring images from The Joy of Sex seemed a little too on the nose. Kane is no stranger to explicit garments (FKA Twigs’ Met Gala look, anyone?), but this seems a little too on the nose. It lacks the cheeky fun of his other collections. Some of the lace pieces, like Looks 9 and 12, were complex without feeling over-designed. On the other hand were simpler dresses, like Look 13, which called to mind the early aughts…and not in a fun way. As a child of the 90s and early 00s myself, I want to be excited about this revival - I’m just not there. Maybe it hasn’t been long enough yet. Twenty-year cycle of nostalgia and all that.

15. ANN DEMUELEMEESTER     When the inevitable cyberpunk apocalypse occurs, I know which designer I’ll be wearing. Okay, I’ll gladly wear Ann Demuelemeester before then too. From reading the designer, Sébastien Meunier’s, inspiration alone, I knew I would love it. I mean, he name-dropped Mary Shelly. The clothes themselves lived up to my hype. My weakness for corsets, harnesses, and bondage elements knows no bounds. Actually, this was a pretty bondage-light collection from the brand, leaning more towards tough, almost survivalist pieces.     Of the looks, my favorites were towards the beginning and end of the collection. While other tunic tops and miniskirts seemed to shorten the waist and add bulk to the hips, the ones made of leather were particularly flattering. And those sheer tops had me reconsidering my negative stance on shoulder pads. Hooded dresses are another great love of mine, and I’m sad there was only one in the collection. That being said, Look 6 is right up there as one of my favorites. I only have one final question about the collection; those hip capes…how do they work? I’m just as baffled as I am delighted by them. I’m being serious here. What were they attached to?

14. SIMONE ROCHA     Given my general tastes, it would probably surprise most people how much I love Simone Rocha’s designs. Cute, flowery, and girly are three things I generally am not. That does not mean, however, that I can’t enjoy them. Season after season, Rocha’s flouncy, feminine designs continue to delight. Fresh off a Moncler Genius collaboration (the best of the bunch, in my opinion), Rocha’s collection was one of exuberant excess. Her usual fare of lacy frocks included beaded chains, chandelier earrings, and more bows than you could shake a stick at. There were many patterned pieces as well, and even a dress or two that featured a large amount of embroidery.     Perhaps it was the season, or that Moncler collab, but many of the looks in the collection featured coats and outerwear. The sheer dresses layered over blazers were particularly fun. One of my favorites was an off-the-shoulder red pleather trench coat. Impractical for actual low temperatures? Probably, think of how cute you’d look! A couple looks did veer worryingly into cutesy territory, or featured enough fabric to drown the wearer, but there was only one thing that really bothered me. Even in the midst of the ugly shoe trend, I must ask if there’s really interested in wearing flats that make you look like a were-clydesdale. Unless you’re trying to sweep your floors and getting in all your steps at the same time, I just don’t see the appeal. Those beaded, lace-up numbers, however? I’ll take fifty, thanks.

13. SONIA RYKIEL     In 1968, Sonia Rykiel opened her first boutique and kept designing for her brand until 2011. She unfortunately passed away in 2016, but her legacy as the “Queen of Knits” lives on. Rykiel is also credited as inventing many techniques and pioneering braless fashion. This collection marked the 50th anniversary of her brand and was a celebration of everything she accomplished. There were sweaters galore and models sporting Rykiel’s signature curls smiled as they made their way down the runway. The five women who closed the show even had glitter sprinkled in their hair.     While the show was very Rykiel, I was surprised by the lack of details Rykiel was known for. It may just be my computer’s resolution, but I barely saw any unfinished hems and not a single inside-out seam. Nevertheless, Rykiel’s “gamine Rive Gauche” style was on full display. I particularly loved the lace dresses in Looks 35 and 36. The show was a touching tribute to a well-loved and talented. designer. Bananarama even performed! Now, that haute couture show, however…

12. SAINT LAURENT     What can I say other than I’m predictable? Dark colors, leather, and rock & roll are a pretty much unbeatable combination in my book. This may be fashion blogger heresy, but I actually enjoyed Hedi Slimane’s take on the brand. His first outing at the house was definitely my favorite, but I did like a lot of his other collections. Still, when I found out Anthony Vaccarello was taking over, I was hype. He was a favorite of mine and his designs seemed to fit the “skinny rocker” aesthetic Slimane championed for the brand. So far, he hasn’t let me down. Well, aside from jettisoning his main line to focus on Saint Laurent. But, hey, it’s a big job.     That being said, this might be my least favorite of Vaccarello’s collections for Saint Laurent. The majority of the looks didn’t offer up anything particularly new or exciting the way his previous collections have. And those twenty-nine samey mini-dresses that closed out the show? The ones with the floral embroidery that looked like 80s wallpaper? Not the biggest fan. With that being said, I still liked the collection a great deal. The majority clothes were still nice as well as wearable. I really liked the set of three black, floor-length gowns near the middle of the show - particularly when paired with those wide-brimmed hats. Special mention also goes to the earrings in Look 52. Who doesn’t want a pair of crystalline fish skeletons dangling from their ears?

11. OFF-WHITE     Virgil Abloh is having a hell of a year. First, there was the mob scene created when gatecrashers and those with invitations alike attempted to enter the show space all at the same time. Then, shortly afterwards, he was appointed to succeed Kim Jones as artistic director at Louis Vuitton menswear. His first collection for the brand was met with critical acclaim, and not without reason, but his FW18 collection for his own line deserves just as much praise. Maybe it was just me being a biased Manhattanite, but I always seem to love collections inspired by the city. (Even if this collection was titled “West Village” and I grew up on practically the other end of the island.)     Typically, when I say a piece looks like it was made from a tapestry, it’s not a good thing. Abloh literally used a “tapestry” fabric for several of the looks in the collection, but they only scream “high fashion”. A couple pieces appeared to have fit issues, but I really enjoyed the collection and liked so many of the pieces. The corsets and blazer-romper combos were particularly nice. I also liked the athleisure-style turtleneck, flowy silk dresses, lace-up boots, corsets, sequined pieces…

10. OLIVIER THEYSKENS     Until recently, Olivier Theyskens was a name I associated with Theory. I liked his work for the brand (there’s a well-loved leather jacket in my closet as proof), but I love his work for his own line. His detailing is subtle, never calling attention to itself, but enhancing the garment. The seams on the leather trench in Look 2 is the perfect example of that. I also love a good leather pant and some distressed denim, both of which were on display in this collection. The only pieces I wasn’t particularly into were the Bermuda shorts, but that length is usually a no from me anyway.     One surefire way to my heart is by combining soft and hard feminine - a major theme of the collection. Slinky slip dresses were paired with platform combat boots that made my inner emo kid sing with joy. Several looks combining chunkier dresses with long coats called to mind 90s media like Buffy the Vampire Slayer and The Craft (two perennial favorites of mine.) There’s been something of a grunge/90s revival happening on the runways recently - the twenty-year nostalgia cycle, I’m telling you - which this collection could definitely be considered a part of. And I for one could not be happier.

9. COACH 1941     Discovering I liked Coach’s clothing line was the biggest plot twist for me of 2014 - and that was the same year Captain America: Winter Soldier came out. Before then, I only ever associated Coach with pocketbooks that screamed their brand name back at you. (No, I’m not a fan of the logomania trend, why do you ask?) Stuart Ververs’ clothing, however, is all kinds of 70s rock & roll, which I am very much into. That vibe was present here as well, particularly when paired with the muted and neutral fall color pallet of this collection.     There were both slip dresses and more flowy pieces in a variety of colors and prints. The latter were more modest and called to mind prairie dresses, all without feeling dowdy. Some of my favorites were the ones that had a harder edge, with things like leather details. What can I say other than I’m consistent? Some pieces in the collection seemed laden with one too many details, or had an off-putting color pallet - like a metallic gunmetal and orange pleated skirt with a single, bright blue stripe near the hem. On others, however, the details absolutely made the piece. Some leather jackets, for example, had embossed inserts in a different color that really elevated them. And while I may loathe their C-print bags, there’s no denying Coach makes quality leather goods.

8. DION LEE     Variations on a central theme? Check. Clever suit tailoring? Check. Lingerie details? Check. This most recent Dion Lee offering combined three of my favorite elements into one very strong collection. While pairing blazers with lingerie has been a trend in street style for some time now, Lee may be the first person I’ve seen to combine them into a single garment. With the smallest of cutouts just above the bust, many of these suits managed to be sexy without being obvious. Well, except for the opening looks which used contrasting fabrics for the bra insert and the rest of the blazer to draw the eye. That’s not a disparaging remark either - I quite liked those two looks, and I don’t fall for grey/warm color combinations easily.     Another recurring element in the collection was the use of a fabric slashed in such a way that it becomes almost a fishnet. It’s a technique Lee’s spent years perfecting. On some pieces, the fabric was slashed more and pulled apart in certain areas to create varying levels of opacity. One element I didn’t particularly enjoy were the almost handkerchief-like hems on several of the dresses and skirts. Heavy hems are a hard sell for me and, while I adore cephalopods, I don’t think I want to go around looking like one any time soon. They worked a little better on the garments where they were pinned up, but that’s still going to be a no from me. Every single shoe in the collection, however, was right up my alley.

7. ROBERTO CAVALLI     Glamour, opulence, and excess are three words that come to mind at the mention of Roberto Cavalli. However, that was the house under Cavalli himself. Paul Surridge’s vision of glamour is a little more subtle. Outside of a few evening wear looks - arguably some of the strongest in the collection - there was nary a sparkle in sight. Instead, the focus was on business dressing that featured subtle hints of sexuality. Several drop-waisted gowns used a combination of creative cutouts and thigh-high slits that oozed Cavalli. Handkerchief hems featured on everything from blazers to multi-tiered dresses….The effect was better on some pieces than others.     Still, Cavalli’s influence on the brand was there. Many looks featured the kind of ombre prints Cavalli loved. (They were particularly reminiscent of the finale looks of his FW15 collection.) There were also the animal prints and straight-legged pants that were common staples on his previous runways. The blazers, however, were definitely Surridge; he is a former menswear designer after all. Interestingly, some of the looks could’ve benefitted from sharper tailoring. A few jackets and blazers had slits up the sides that were interesting in concept, but not so great in execution. Sensual business wear and understated elegance…Could this be what we can come to expect from Roberto Cavalli under Surridge? Of course, if you prefer the OTT glamour of Cavalli’s era, there were a nice pair of $91K crocodile leather pants that might be right up your alley.

6. TOMMY HILFIGER     Okay, okay, Tommy Hilfiger uses the see-now-buy-now business model, so the most recent runway show was actually for SS18. However, it happened during the most recent fashion week. Also, I really liked the collection, so it’s going on the list. What can I say other than I love a good moto detail? It’s the first thing listed in my “about” page. And this was a whole collection based around moto looks. It also happened to be the final Tommy X Gigi collection. I can’t speak to how much creative input Gigi Hadid actually had in the the collection itself, but the outcome was wonderful. If her streetwear is anything to go by, she certainly likes moto too - along with the athleisure vibes that Hilfiger’s brand is built upon.     In fact, this collection looks exactly like what current influencers, such as Gigi and co., already wear on the daily. It becomes a classic chicken-and-egg question. Which came first; a trend influencers picked up on, or designers picking up on influencer trends? Regardless, the clothes were still cute and wearable - if only for a specific demographic. Hilfiger is definitely marketing this collection towards a younger generation of social media stars and those that want to emulate them. There were crop tops galore and, of course, a pair of bike shorts or two. The only real problems I had with the collection were in fit and styling. Does anyone want a top that’s fitted under the arms, only to flare out at the waist? And then there were the shorts layered over, again, bike shorts. Other than that, I would happily wear almost any piece in the collection. Oh, crap, have I bought into the influencer hype? And if I have, can you blame me when it comes to collections like this?

5. JACQUEMUS     And now we move from Instagram to Tumblr. No, Simon Porte Jacquemus was not inspired by this very website. The source of his inspiration, however, is one that is quite popular here. I must admit, I never really understood the wistful posts about reading classic lit on the Mediterranean - that is, until now. After spending some time in Morocco, Jacquemus created a collection inspired by the year-round mild climate there. The collection was filled with kaftans, loose shirt dresses, and clingy but light knits. Even the most substantial sweaters and coats felt breezy compared to most of the other outerwear shown this season.     The collection was, of course, very French as well. The looks, nearly all of which had some slinky, body-conscious elements, oozed confident sensuality - the kind that’s endeared Brigitte Bardot to generation after generation. Small details were key here. Several looks included a tiny white tee that could easily be an updated version of the baby-tee that’s been gaining traction lately. Some also included a delicate gold body chain - which I need immediately. A sweater dress or two had a ribbed detail around the hip that flattered the body wonderfully. Clever draping on the jackets made you sit back and wonder just how the garment’s pattern had been drafted. Of course, Jacquemus also loves wild proportions. There were touches of that in this collection, but none more obvious than the bigger-than-big, wide-brimmed sun hats, which have been worn by Bella Hadid, EmRata, and more. With cold weather on the horizon, I’m already anticipating the moments I have every winter, where I’ll wish I was somewhere warm. This year, I’ll be fantasizing about reading Lovecraft on the Mediterranean - while dressed in Jacquemus, of course.

4. PACO RABANNE    I’ll admit, I was slow to come around to Julien Dossena’s take on Paco Rabanne. Part of it might’ve been because I was bitter about the brand dropping Manish Arora so quickly. (And I still am.) But another part was the lack of the brand’s signatures within his collections. Sure, there were nods to the materials Rabanne first made fashionable, but they were never at the core of the collection. A metallic-sequined skirt here and a plastic dress there and that was it. That is, not until his chainmail-heavy FW17 collection. His following runway collection was one of my favorites of the season. This time around, Dossena finally took on the hardest challenge in Rabanne’s legacy; plastic and metal as textiles.     To say that he succeeded is an understatement. The collection not only read “Paco Rabanne”, but Dossena as well. Each new piece felt fresh and exciting. Who knew there were so many different ways to shape metal and plastic together? There were hints of 60s mod influence, like a black and white striped t-shirt dress, but it was given a much more current silhouette. That particular dress was layered under a mesh made up of metal beads and rings. What’s more, all the pieces showed great movement. Just because they were made of stiff materials did not mean they had to be rigid or hard. A skirt composed of metal pieces shaped into flowers was even delicate and whimsical. This was classic Rabanne for the modern age. (Let’s just…not talk about those shoes, okay?)

3. CHLOÉ     You hear a lot about sophomore slumps. Difficult second albums…difficult second runway collections? Not for Natacha Ramsay-Levi. In fact, this collection might even be better than her first. Chloé is a brand rooted in the 70s, and Ramsay-Levi’s clothes, while clearly inspired by the decade, didn’t feel dated. Garments were loose, but tailored in such a way that they still showed the figure underneath. Flattered, even. (A Surridge subtweet? Never.) Cutouts are still going strong, at least over at Chloé, and there were several variations I’d yet seen. Hip cutouts with a belt over top and even side-torso cutouts if you’re feeling a little more daring. The looks that created the illusion of a cutout by layering a plunging v-neck over a cropped turtleneck were also standouts.     There were a couple pieces that did feel a little off, however. Namely the pieces that had a row of fur on them like some kind of edging or fringe. Those pants with the line of fur down the sides were particularly silly, sorry not sorry. On the other hand, the collection included a look or two with that shoulder frill so many designers have tried recently, which my mother and I joke makes you look like a nudibranch. But here it didn’t. Perhaps it was the bracelets over the sleeves that saved it. (A fashion risk, but one that definitely paid off.) There were so many other pieces I wanted to comment on - the flared pants, the jumpsuits, the updated Chloé boots, the jewelry, the aviator jacket…But what else is there to say some times other than I liked the collection?

2. ALEXANDER MCQUEEN     In recent seasons, Sarah Burton has (imho) really hit her stride at Alexander McQueen. This collection in particular had an inspiration that was close to my heart. One of my mother’s best friends collects insect displays. Creepy and weird, sure, but also beautiful. Very much the McQueen M.O. This collection featured both beetle and butterfly motifs - some more literal than others. The “articulated corsets” could either be insect exoskeletons or butterfly wings. There were also a variety of garments in butterfly and beetle wing prints that were wonderfully geometric, if a bit busy at times. The most effective was probably a trench coat with an orange and red version of the butterfly print from the lapels down. (Though not quite as impressive as the coats with lace inserts, which were simply stunning.)     The biggest surprise of the collection were the fringe dresses. Not so much the fact that there was fringe - it was ubiquitous this season, and Burton has used it before - but the fact that I liked her use of it. Her manipulation of the material was brilliant in the way it mimicked and integrated those earlier prints. The finale dresses that did not include fringe, however, I liked decidedly less. Decidedly. It’s a testament to how much I liked the rest of the looks that this collection was still my second-favorite overall. My favorite looks actually came earlier in the collection, both of which featured tulle embroidered with some very 3D beetles. Heavy? Probably. Uncomfortable to sit down in? Also likely. But stunning? Just like the rest of the collection, without a doubt.

    Alright, I’m sure you can already guess my favorite SS18 collection (because I am tremendously predictable), but I wanted to give shoutouts to some honorable mentions first. The moto-reimaginings of Jackie Kennedy’s most iconic outfits at Moschino were some of my favorite individual pieces of the season. However, the unfortunate phrasing in the campaign has left a bad taste in my mouth since. Oscar de la Renta was gorgeous (that layered tulle coat Nicki Minaj wore to the Met Gala, wow), just not as exciting as the previous season. Likewise, Area had some great looks, and I loved the dark lip on some of the models, but it was about 50/50 for me. David Koma had amazing leather craftsmanship, as always, but the looks with embroidered feathers felt like something you could find at a department store. In another season, Elie Saab might’ve made it onto the list, I just happened to like other collections more. (Look 56, though. Wow.)     And, with that all off my chest, my favorite collection of the season!

1. ALEXANDER WANG     Do all of the earlier references to designs I like count as foreshadowing? This collection literally had it all; clear inspiration, variations on a theme, moto details…Well, and Alexander Wang is my favorite designer. From the first look, I was in love. There was something distinctly Matrix-ian about the collection - and it wasn’t just the tiny shades. Perhaps it was the trench coats and the prevalence of leather, or having the models stomp through a set that was, at one point in time, an office building - the former Condé Nast HQ, in fact. Wang’s use of zippers in this collection was phenomenal. The ones that hugged the hip were particularly beautiful, as were the ones that mimicked seams around the waist and bust. Perhaps the only looks I wasn’t feeling were some of the sweatpants. As much as I liked the rest of the seams, ones near the hips always feel a little unfortunate to me.     But the rest? I was blown away. The ways Wang reinterpreted blazers in this collection; from the not-quite business wear at the beginning, to the mini-dresses at the end. Brilliant, all of them. Just the mini-dresses in general - an Alexander Wang girl is always ready to attend the hottest party in town. Those chiffon numbers towards the middle and the metallic looks near the end also deserve a mention. Honestly, even the things I don’t typically like, I was into in this collection. Pink is usually a hard color to convince me of, but I would absolutely wear the hot pink pieces here. Could I pull them off? Probably not, but I also wouldn’t care. I’m also not a huge bag person, but the Swarovski-encrusted Ziplock was pure genius.     Unfortunately, this is the last collection Alexander Wang plans to show during the conventional NYFW schedule. In fact, he already showed his SS19 collection back in June. (And I loved it, of course.) My thoughts on that collection will have to wait for a little while longer. For most designers, SS19 will begin tomorrow. However, I already know Wang’s collection will make the list.

    Alright, I think that’s enough rambling for one post. Those were my opinions on last season, but I would love to hear yours. What were your favorite collections of FW18?