#The City Lights Can’t Shine Quite Like the Stars: Got So Far From My Raising I Forgot Where I Come From

[artblg2000]

ARCMANORO NILES

Got So Far from My Raising I Forgot Where / Come From (Spent My Youth among the Pines), 2023

oil, acrylic, and glitter on canvas

[certifiedskywalker]

Still Dancing - Luke Skywalker

It is the birthday of the New Republic and, to celebrate, the freshly appointed Senators have thrown a gala that spans across all of the Core Worlds. Nearly the entire galaxy! By Leia Organa’s invitation, you find yourself lost in a sea of unfamiliar faces. You are, it seems, a wallflower, shy and unmoved by the rejoice in the air. Or maybe it’s the dancing that puts you off. Either way, Luke Skywalker is ready to sweep you off your feet.

AN: Gender neutral for the most part! Enjoy!

“You sure look happy to be here.”

“I could say the same for you,” Han fired back before he took a sip of whatever cocktail Leia had ordered for him. His face screwed up at the taste and he all too-quickly placed the glass of bright green liquid down on the table.

“Sour?”

Han answered with a glare. 

“Could be worse,” you pointed out.

“Really? How?”

You tipped your head towards the table set next to the one you shared with the smuggler-turned-war hero. “Could be like him.”

Han glanced over and saw the same, overweight Twi’lek man whose head, heavy with his lekku and drink, was pressed against the table. Residue of all colors, including the bright green of Han’s drink stained the fabric cloth of the senatorial place settings. Drool dribbled out of the man’s partially open mouth alongside snores that were drowned out by the political chatter. Han turned in his seat to face you again and shook his head.

“I’d rather be where he is.”

You shrugged. “At least you can still dance away from your problems, Solo.”

“Ha, yeah. Sure.” Han looked back at the passed out Twi’lek and asked, “isn’t this the Ryloth representative?”

“He’s your wife’s co-worker,” you confirmed with hints of a smile played on your lips. Han let out a heavy sigh.

“At least I don’t have to worry about competition.”

“You? No,” you teased and waved a dismissive hand. “You’re a fine Coreillian wine he is to...well...whatever it is that you’re drinking.”

Han frowned but, based on his quietness, your analogy sated him. Both of you, resigned to your spot at the distant, corner table and your respective drinks, stared out into the crowd. Senators, representatives, and business people were dressed in their finest for this long awaited evening: the first annual New Republic Celebration. You, on the other hand, had dreaded your attendance. Though, Leia had stressed to that your presence at the gala was not mandatory. 

“I, personally, want you to be there. At best, you meet someone. At worst, you commiserate with Han,” she had said. 

That agreement, your promise to attend, was made weeks ago. If you had known it was going to be this stuffy, you would have stayed in your apartments. At least there you knew what you were drinking. There was the added bonus of not being surrounded by strangers, drunk strangers that, lured to their feet by the classical, live music, felt the horrible urge to dance.

Pairs of all sorts and shapes waltzed along the shining, Jelucani fogstone floor. If you dared to watch too long, you grew dizzy and forced your eyes to the stagnant ceiling of dangling, crystal light features. White, amber, and gold reflected beams and refracted waves in a dazzling show that impress you more than the swaying politicians. Much to your surprise, Han seemed more intrigued by the guests.

“Who’s that?” His sudden question coaxed your eyes from the ceiling and in the general direction of his gesture. A lithe figure with powder pink hair was in deep conversation with Leia.

“Amilyn Holdo. Senator from Gatalenta. I met her when Leia took me clothes shopping.”

“I hope she didn’t pay for her dress,” Han jeered. You rolled your eyes and studied Holdo’s holographic dress for a moment. Slips of pink fabric slid around her waist like an in-sown sash, the pastel tone creating a sharp contrast with the rest of the metallic skirt and bodice. Her apparel was not the worst by far. Though, stood next to Leia, whose hair had been done up special for the gala and wore a sleek, white and grey gown, anyone looked gaudy.

With a hard swallow, you let your gaze fall into your lap. Rested there, your hands brushed over the soft material of your outfit. Leia had had more of a say in your look for the evening than yourself. Not that you minded; she had great taste. However, despite your friends’ knack at putting together an outfit, you felt lost in your clothes.

The light blue color of long shawl and matching, flowing trousers reminded you of tundra-covered your home world, Hynestia. When you told Leia just that whole shopping, she had stuck with the color and got to work coordinating accessories and layers. Earlier, you caught your reflection and marveled at your appearance. After working with the Rebellion for so long, you never thought you could look so clean or so poised. Perhaps that was why you slunk to the back of the gala, the ballroom it was held in, and turned your feeling of being out of place into a reality. You didn’t belong here, you yearned for the field, the excitement, and, as grateful as you were for the rest, you longed for the danger too.

Dancing certainly was neither a substitute nor did it appeal to you. Though, the smiles on the faces of those on the dance floor did spark an itch somewhere in your soul. An itch you knew that you would never be able to scratch. Not until you were out of these clothes and back in a shuttle destined to an Outer Rim planet.

“That can’t be...is that…” Han’s voice, once more, broke through your thoughts. When you looked over at him, he wore a wide grin; but it was not directed at you or his wife a few paces away. “I thought you were stranded in Nar Shaddaa!”

“I was, but I couldn’t miss this. Leia would have had my throat!”

That voice! Quickly you traced Han’s eyeline and found its familiar, friendly owner. There he was, Luke Skywalker, dressed in pressed black and a smile that shown like the stars. His blue eyes finally landed on you and, instantaneously, your face warmed.

“Hey,” Luke raised a hand and waved at you as he approached. 

“Hi,” you said and returned the wave but smaller, more timid.

“You couldn’t Jedi your way outta this?” Han raised a hand and gestured to the ballroom.

“That’s not how the Force works.” 

As he explained, Luke moved and took the seat at the table next to you. Fuel, smoke, and warming spices filled your nose when he leaned in towards you. You looked at him, wondered what he was going to say or do when you saw his hand close around Han’s abandoned glass. He brought the bright green liquid to his nose and sniffed. Immediately, he cringed, face screwed up with disgust, and set the glass back down.

A laugh slipped up your throat and out your lips. The sound captured Luke’s attention and brought eyes up to meet yours. You clapped a hand over your mouth to muffle yourself. Luke chuckled at your reaction and reached over to grab your wrist. Gently, he pulled your hand from your face and set it back in your lap.

“I like your laugh,” he said softly. Heat washed over you, numbed you with the affection in his voice. When you found your voice, you were stopped by a scoff from Han.

“Haven’t heard Y/N laugh all night.”

“Well, we can’t have that!” Luke looked back at you, “tonight we’re meant to celebrate!”

“Galas aren’t quite my...my thing.” Thing? You couldn’t find a better, more descriptive word? Luke cocked his head at you and you sighed. “This is my first time at an event like this.”

“No, it’s just like the celebration on Endor,” Luke gave you a smile and you were thrusted back into the memory of that night, the excitement had been heavy in the air. “Here, it’s just people with fancier jobs and fancier clothes.”

“Less bugs and stinking, furry gremlins,” Han added with a grimace. 

You frowned at him before you looked back at Luke. His blue eyes were fixed on you, just as they had been on Endor the night the Empire fell. Tension fell over you that night, made you nervous to be around him; but the good kind of nervous. The kind that let the butterflies in your stomach go wild and your heart threaten to leap out of your chest.

“I...I don’t know,” you murmured. To escape embarrassment, you forced your eyes away from his and out to the dance floor. 

“I do,” Luke said and he stood up from his seat suddenly. You peered up at him and watched when he extended his hand down to you. “Let’s dance.”

“Luke, I don’t-” Luke leaned down towards you before you could finish. The proximity shocked you into silence, the quietest you had been all evening.

“I wanted to dance with you, that night, on Endor. You declined every pilot that asked. But will you reject a Jedi?” Teasing and low, Luke’s tone sent a shiver down your spine. You impressed yourself as you held his gaze and took his extended hand. 

Easily, Luke lifted you from your seat. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of Han’s expression. His eyes were wide at Luke led you out from behind the table, mouth slightly open. Though, you were so enraptured by the warmth and softness of Luke’s hand in yours. So much so that you almost didn’t notice how Luke had started to lead you in the opposite direction of the dance floor. Almost.

“Um, it’s the other way?” You glanced over your shoulder, towards the crowd of politicians still waltzing around the ballroom. 

Luke didn’t respond. Instead, he guided you out of the heart of the gala and down ornately decorated hallways. Hologram images of new New Republican officials littered each walkway but did nothing to distract you. When Luke finally stopped, you were in a small viewing room with walls made mostly of windows that gave you a perfect snapshot of the glowing city of Hosnian Prime. As you looked out across the twinkling lights, distant, soft classical music filtered down the hall from the ballroom. For the first time that night, you found that you could take an easy breath.

“Thanks,” you said when you met Luke’s eyes again. “I needed to get out of there.”

“Sure,” Luke smiled, “but I hope you know that we’re still dancing.”

On cue, he lifted your joined hands and turned his body to front against yours. You couldn’t help the grin that spread along your lips and you played along. Mirroring the movements of the politicians you saw on the dancefloor, you rested your hand on Luke’s shoulder. However, when his free hand found your waist, your breath caught. Luke’s face fell at the sound of your stifled breathing.

“Are you alright?”

“Y-Yeah. Yeah,” you swallowed hard and held Luke’s eyes. “So, we’re dancing?”

“We’re dancing,” Luke echoed as he began to move. 

Work with the Rebellion had demanded that you be somewhat agile and coordinated. Dancing, waltzing, whatever it was Luke was leading you to do, was not something your revolutionary duties had not required. However, as you moved, you felt as if you were doing it right. Graceful and practiced, Luke moved with purpose and you followed. 

The two of you twirled about the small, hidden room in total sync. While dulled by the distance, the music from the ballroom provided that perfect beat for your feet to follow. Though, that didn’t stop you as you glanced down to make sure you weren’t stepping on Luke’s toes.

“You look beautiful.” Luke’s soft tone coaxed your eyes up to meet his. “You always do, but...especially tonight.” Warmth licked at your skin along with the compliment.

“You look quite handsome yourself,” you replied. 

In step, you and Luke continued to move. Stride after stride, you moved together. Your fingertips, desperate for you to get closer, pressed tenderly into Luke’s shoulder. He took the hint and brought his body closer to yours, nearly pressed you together using the hand that rested on your back. Your stomach twirled in tuned with you at the touch.

A few minutes passed, with you and Luke focused entirely on each other, before you realized the music had fallen into silence. 

“Luke,” you whispered, “the music. It’s stopped.”

“And we’re still dancing,” he said with a smile. “Unless you want to stop?”

You returned his smile and shook your head. At best, you meet someone, Leia had said; and you were tired of commiserating with Han. “No. I don’t.”

Wordlessly, Luke brought your hand, the one joined with his, to his lips. He pressed a feather-light kiss to the skin atop your hand as you both swayed in the quiet. The touch lifted you up, suspended you like the crystal that hung from the ballroom ceiling. You imagined, if you were to step outside of yourself and watch you and Luke dance, you would find that both you would glimmer too.

[moonshine-dan]

what would kissing your close friend, kuroo or bokuto, for the first time be like? i imagined that you've been with him since high school and you only realized your feelings for him in college gahhh please indulge this hopeless romantic >.<

I would love to! This is for all the hopeless romantics out there who love Bokuto.

@janellion ... I hear you like stuff like this?

Downtown

Is it really this fun when you're on my mind? Is it really this cool to be in your life?

Bokuto x Reader, fluff. 2.2 K

Warnings: Nothing major. Suicide mentioned as part of a drink title. A little suggestive at the end.

The automatic doors hiss open as you walk into the humid Osaka night, wincing. The AC inside the 7/11 had made it easy to forget how hot it was. The slurpee you just bought is sweet and takes the edge off, but beyond that, you couldn’t say what the flavor was exactly. You let Bokuto take both of your cups to the machine and make suicides out of every option - “So none of ’em feel left out!” - like you always did. 

He was following you out, eyes gleaming in the fluorescent lights of the signs above you.

"It's good to just hang out like this again. We haven't done this in forever!" He was waving animatedly in your general direction, the drink in his flailing hand getting dangerously close to spilling on your shirt.

"Woah! My bad! Nothing got on you, right?"

You nod. He responds with a thousand watt smile that pushes his eyes closed and makes you want to grab his stupid hair spikes and drag him into a kiss.

You’ve got it so bad for your best friend that it’s almost funny, if it wasn’t also completely pathetic. It's only recently that you realized you liked him as more than a friend- but now that you’re reminiscing with him, the signs were very, very obvious. To you, at least. 

The pair of you are moving from the eye-piercing light of the storefront and over to the far side of the parking lot. The plan? To loiter, just like you did in high school when volleyball practice got out. Usually, you'd have 3 or 4 of his teammates with you, eating garbage snack food and joking around on the curb until the manager would chase you away. 

You can see in your mind how you would gravitate towards Bokuto on those nights, sitting next to him in the parking lot, bumping your foot or your knee into his while you talked. How you laughed at his jokes and would ask for his jacket when it got cold. His presence was magnetic, and you got pulled in deep. It wasn’t until after you both had graduated and started down separate paths that you were able to really see what you had. What you missed so deeply. 

It's just the two of you tonight, Bokuto fresh out of practice and talking excitedly about his teammates' antics, just like he used to. The only things that are different now are the names of the players. He’s telling you a story about his germophobic friend, Sasuke? You think? Bokuto talks so fast sometimes he doesn’t really annunciate well - and you sigh at the familiarity of it all. Maybe this would turn out alright; maybe you had been avoiding meeting up with Bokuto for no reason? 

You had thought that seeing him in person again, not just on a grainy phone screen, would be disastrous. It was hard enough to try and keep your feelings inside over video calls and text messages, but having him in front of you? You knew you’d do something to tip him off on how you felt toward him, and even though you knew he would never stop being your friend, the fear of your love being unrequited held you back. 

He'd been asking for weeks to meet up, and you had been successfully blaming college on your schedules not working - until he offered you to meet him late night on Friday, just like you used to. With no excuse and an irrationally heavy heart, you agreed to meet up.

Perhaps it was just a crush? Maybe you sought him out between classes and waited for hours after school just so see him because you just…. Liked him. And you had halfway convinced yourself that's all it was, until he had smiled at you brightly and reminded you just how dull things were without him in your life. 

He’s sitting now on a parking block with his back against a bollard, slapping the spot next to him invitingly. Bokuto whoops when you drop down next to him, slush flying from his cup as he whips it excitedly. "You gotta see this!"

He scoots closer to you, phone in hand. There's a paused youtube video onscreen: a highlight reel someone had made of his spikes. He hits play as soon as you lean in a little, grinning wildly and giving a play by play commentary as you watch. The outside of his thigh presses into yours warmly.

Here's hoping he can’t somehow feel the heat creeping up your neck.

He beams at you from over the phone, looking at you expectantly as the video ends. “Wasn’t I great?” 

You feel like you’ve run a mile and all he did was press his leg to yours. He’s too great. “Yes, Bokuto, you were amazing.”

He’s really grinning now, eyes crinkling shut. “You’ve gotta come to one of my games and see me in action! I promise, it’s waaaay better in person! You could even,” he pauses for a moment, thinking, “bring one of the guys you’ve been seeing? Watching me win would be an awesome date.”

Oh god, your dates. You had tried going on a few recently, another attempt to distance yourself from your best friend. Nothing serious - just coffee shop conversations, but they easily lost a competition they weren't even aware they were in. None of them could even begin to make you feel the way Bokuto did. And the thought of taking one of them to see your best friend and unrequited crush in his element? There’s no way that wouldn't find a way to blow up in your face.

“That’s a great idea, man,” you lie. “I’m not seeing anyone right now though.” Bokuto’s giving you a spectacular double eyebrow raise above his cup. “Oh ho?”

You flick his arm gently. “Don’t be mean, Bo. I’ll just come to a game and hang out in the stands with your date instead.”

Why did you say that. Why did you say that. Why did you say that. 

The eyebrows come down. He’s smiling, but it’s not quite reaching his eyes, which aren’t meeting your own. “Nah, you can’t do that. We broke up.”

You feel terrible for the little thrill that sends through you.

“Oh, Bokuto, I’m sorry.” You are. He’s your best friend. The cruel joy you feel does not go away. 

His eyes flicker to you momentarily. “Nah, it’s fine. They weren’t the one, you know?”

Who is? You want to ask. What comes out instead is, “How did you know?”

Bokuto hums inquisitively. “Know what?”

“That they weren’t the one. How did you know?”

He’s still not looking at you when he replies, “I just know.”

Silence falls. You use the quiet moment as an excuse to turn away as well. This is really unlike him. Had he changed that much in the time since you last saw him? Nothing else about Bokuto seems different - maybe the issue was just you?

Stop it. Don’t think things like that. 

The silence drags on. You pull the straw of your drink into your mouth and chew, trying to think of something not romance-related to talk about. Nothing is coming to mind - Bokuto has been all you can think about for a solid week, and being next to him is NOT helping. It’s just the two of you, alone together in silence. It’s late enough that there aren’t any pedestrians on walks to distract you, the night quiet and dark outside of the strangely illuminated parking lot. Desperate to think of anything else, you look up at the hazy summer sky.

It’s hard to see stars through the light pollution, but you can make out Vega, you think. Some stars were bright enough to see even in the middle of the city. The straw pops out of your mouth as you point it out loudly, getting Bokuto’s attention.

“Check it out Bo, you can see part of Lyra. That star’s got to be Vega. You remember?”

Bokuto jerks slightly before he turns to face you, looking startled. His gaze follows your finger up, mouth still pursed around the straw in his mouth. His smile returns as he tilts his head to peer up at the sky with you. “You told me about that one once! It’s a summer constellation, right?”

You drop your hand as Bokuto starts pointing out the faint other stars of the summer triangle. It may be hard to see stars in the city, but with Bokuto shining next to you, it’s hard to see anything else at all. The weird fluorescence of the parking lot light should have washed him out, but somehow he was aglow, soft shadows instead of harsh lines shading him lightly. He really was a star, and he burned the brightest out of any that you could see tonight.

You were staring at him again. 

It’s no surprise when he catches you this time, golden eyes meeting yours and matching your gaze. The delight is still present on his face but it’s sobering, turning serious. Your heart is racing as Bokuto continues to stare you down in silence. His eyebrows draw together as he raises his hand slowly, reaching for your face.

A finger grazes your cheek. You might have stopped breathing. He opens his mouth.

“You had some slush on your face.” His finger remains there, rubbing at the stuck on sugar.

...

Okay. Something has to change. There’s only so much your heart can take.

You reach up and cup your hand over his, holding it in place. Bokuto stills at the sudden contact, bewildered. You aren’t sure what you are doing, much less how to say what you want, but you hope that somehow he understands. No sound escapes your mouth as you maintain eye contact and slot your fingers together. Bokuto stares, still uncharacteristically silent - but he’s not just looking anymore. His eyes are searching, gaze sharp and analytical. You couldn’t look away from them if you wanted to.

Bokuto blinks first, eyes flitting over to your joined hands as you press your cheek into the heat of his palm. His thumb drags lightly over to your skin, meeting your bottom lip and tracing along the curve of it. He watches, entranced, as they part slightly from the touch. 

Even if this doesn’t work out. Even then. Just having this moment would be enough. Your eyes close as you huff out the breath you had been holding. The hot coil of anxiety snaking through your stomach makes you hesitant to open them again. When Bokuto’s thumb moves from your mouth to pad at your cheek, you steel yourself and open them again. 

You shouldn't have worried. There’s nothing in his golden eyes but understanding when you finally dare to open them again. Bokuto’s remaining hand is impossibly gentle as he places it on your shoulder, leaning into your space. His shoulders shake minutely with barely contained excitement from the breakthrough he’s just had - you like him, just as much as he likes you. There’s no way he can’t feel the heat in your skin rising now as your pulse skyrockets. 

“Kou…”, you whisper into the shrinking space between you.

Bokuto doesn’t bother with a response. His lips are a little chapped when they capture yours, but they're warm and eager and pressing in with the weight of half a decade of unconfessed feelings.

You know immediately what he meant earlier about knowing ‘the one’. No kiss from any of your dates was ever this electric. None of them made you feel like time was stopping when their lips met yours, or made your heart beat like it was about to fly from your chest. None of them made you feel like you were finally home, held in strong arms and with a familiar hand gently running along your cheek. 

There really was no one like Bokuto, and you were so glad there was no one else for him but you right now. 

You push forward until you chests are touching, desperate for closer contact now that you know you’re allowed to get it. The back of his head is cradled in your free hand, fingers tangling in the short spikes at the nape of his neck. Bokuto hums against your mouth, tongue slipping out to trace where his thumb had been earlier. He starts backward slightly as you meet it with the tip of yours, breaking away with a gasp.

“Woah! Not on the first date!”

“You used tongue first.” Your deadpan expression doesn't faze him. He wraps a heavy arm around your shoulders and pulls you close to his side, laughing. 

Wait a minute.

“Did you say date? Is this a date?”

Bokuto freezes. He glances at you side-eyed and inquires quietly, “Do you... want it to be one?”

It’s much easier to be truthful when you’ve had his tongue in your mouth. “I’d love it to be one.”

Bokuto whoops loudly, the exclamation echoing in the empty lot.

First dates usually sucked. This one, however, was going to stick with you for a long time. You run your tongue over your lips as you bump your head to his shoulder. Who knew slurpees tasted even better on someone else's mouth?

“Y'know, If we don’t leave soon,” you tease, “the manager might chase us away again.”

He hums dismissively and bends to press a kiss to your temple.

“Let’em.”

[znikomek]

New order

A fantasy AU

A thin line separated the dark welkin from the water. Never else was a man so close to heaven, just outthrusting his hand should bring him otherwise unreachable. With every wave that rocked the ship, lifting it on the surface, an urge to grasp the stars rose in the heart.

The night brought strength to the travellers soaked in her, bestowed upon them a power they would not dream of during the reign of dun, tempting to join her servants. They had met people who had decided to stay in the lack of light, with only black in their eyes. But those were not to fear but pity.

Alexander and he danced on the verge of it, diving while holding to the other for safety. It was necessary to drench themselves before rising to the day and glory. And the journey demanded sacrifices.

For years, they kept in the back, being on hire. When someone needed negotiations to be done, they stepped in, prepared for every possibility. But they were working for themselves; with every transaction for a stranger came two on their account.

And so they sailed, building their power far from the eyes of everything but stars. John was watching the sky, lying on the deck with his head resting comfortably on Alexander’s lap. The sea was calm, and they were planning their next mission.

Having gained a decent share in the turnover of coal, they set as their point to earn on some even more valuable material - sholie. This shiny powder played a great part in jewellery making, and rich people were willing to pay enormous sums to get a shiny stone from it.

“Guelam? The birthday of his triplets is coming.” Alexander’s left hand was playing with John’s hair, while his right hand was making a list of those moneybags who would be most willing to spend their wealth.

“Do add him.” John sighed and shifted his hand onto his lover’s calf, niddling with the fabric of his trousers. Soon, he let go of it and switched to massaging his leg in a leisure, circular motion.

The lamp above them swung, as a wave hit the side, Alexander let his fountain pen drop and grabbed the wall in a reflex. After quite some time, they got used to living on the water, but they both missed the land, the cities in his case and the countryside in John’s, so they were looking forward to long walks on roads.

But there were more things he was looking forward to. “When we get some goods, would you like a ring?”

“A ring?” John looked up at him curiously, his lips forming a tiny, uncontrolled smile.

“A ring,” Alexander chimed in. “With a big, glimmering, cerulean stone and a golden band. A decoration worth of the great man you are.”

“You would buy me a ring?”

“I would.” Alexander grinned, slipping also his other hands into John’s hair. “Moreover, I would love to.”

John huffed and propped himself on the elbows, tilting his head for a kiss, his eyes shining when he received it and shutting the very next moment. When Alexander broke the kiss, John flopped back on his tights.

“How much can we drive the prices up? Alexander mumbled, braiding a tiny plait over John’s ear.

“Ten, twelve times?” John sighed. “I should get better beforehand.”

Despite the best care, the wound a hostile knife had left in his tight during the last wrong-gone mission had not healed yet. The dull, everyday ache was barely noticeable, but whenever he tried to move rapidly, a jolt of sharp pain hit his brain. John missed the full range of movement.

“We could trade a fraction of our shares in coal.”

“What?” He rapidly raised his head, hissing quietly when his hair stuck in Alexander’s palm. “That would be a loss for us.”

“We still would earn. And you can’t run, I’m not risking your life for money.” He used his power to pull John’s head back down. “I am not that greedy.”

“I thought you would say you love me.”

“And do you want me to say that?” he smiled teasingly.

John squinted, judging the trap he fell into. He could say he didn’t want it, but it would be a lie, or he could ask, beg for Alexander to say that. “I do, my dear. I do want to hear it.”

“What do you want to hear?”

“I want to hear you say that you love me,” he whined, playing on what he knew Alexander liked.

“I’m not convinced.”

“I need you to say you love me.”

With the smug smirk on his face transforming into the warmest smile, Alexander leaned down to John’s ear and whispered, “I love and adore you.”

John swelled with pride, there were little things better than being a subject of Alexander’s affection. Not many could count themselves into this group.

Silence filled with their smiles crawled between them, and Alexander got back to his work, though his hand kept messing with John’s hair.

On any other day, John would sit with him, but today, from the very morning, he felt lazy. The worst of it evaporated, but Alexander spoiled him so well he did not want to risk exiting this bubble of being vulnerable. Not that he was ever spared tenderness when asked.

“Can you sit next to me?” Alexander let go of his hair and looked questioningly. “I have been thinking about our landing. We still haven’t chosen the port.”

Groaning from the stiffness from long lying, to Alexander’s chuckling, John shifted under the wall and peeked at the map Alexander slid out from behind the cover of his notebook.

“We could stop at Kuovi. There is this nice place near the Shadows.”

“I miss a still bed,” he sighed. “But Kuovi is not the best option. The exchange rate from tirla to naqruna is too high. We would spend a fortune on the night’s lodging.”

“If you are so mean, we can sleep on board this one more night.”

“No, no, no,” John shook his head. “I’m going to fully use the time I am given to sleep like a man should. We can stay at Haava. The prices are lower, and we could pay in tirla.”

“Oh- you’re right. We could trade with Solberg…” He flipped the page to make notes. “But we will have to find the best worst tavern again. The one owned by Passen has closed.”

Their strategy was simple - they chose a cheap place that had doors leading from one room to another, closed both their bedrooms from the outside, then one of them sneaked out to the other’s bed. In such places, the owners rarely cared enough for it to put them in any danger, as long as they paid. Passen’s had been one of the better one’s. The love this man had for gold made him assume they wished for this kind of privacy for business matters, and they never bothered to correct him.

“It should not be that difficult, should it?” Alexander put the map aside, resting the notebook on his lap.

“It shouldn’t. And, Alex, do we still hold pressure on the bealeoi trade? We could trade for pearls. Foysen is coming.”

“You want to visit Itridosia?” Alexander frowned.

“You look so cute in fur.”

“Yes, I love to freeze to death. We can go there when I am the tsar of Gorodetsia negotiating their surrender,” he grumbled. “But you can check for some other good possibilities.”

[chaoticneutralwriter]

The Calm

And it’s this quiet moment that you cherish the most.

guardian demon!jimin x reader

genre: supernatural, romance, angst, slow-burn, comedy, fluff

word count: 7.5k

related works: see Masterlist under guardian demon!jimin au

Continuation of: First Bite and A Small Death (M)

Warning: pillow talk so some suggestive content, but other wise fluffy and domestic af

A/N: AAAAAAAAAAAAAA HAPPY HOLIDAYS!🎄🎁☃️ AM I TOO LATE FOR AN UPDATE?? LOLL It’s not necessarily Christmas themed but I had anticipated I could get this done at least by then to post so...does this count as a present? dkshg I’m so sorry it took so long 😩 the last few weeks got me feeling in some type of funk where sometimes i wanna do something and other times it’s just ‘i know i gotta do this thing but...i don’t wanna’ so please excuse if there’s any typos i might’ve not caught and if the chapter seems very stop and go sdfkjshg Once again, thank you guys so so SO much for your endless love and support for this fic and for your endless patience! Stay safe, take care and have a restful week!

Tag list: @cherryjiminiee @kokobaekkie @breathebangtan @itsadoozie @thatshylatina @chiminieboi @azulamakesmeblank @sectumsemptae @awkwardwookie @aduky @poisonseashell @shortannoyingginger @caramelmac-chiato @sana-b @jiminstinct @beautifulparisiangirl @taelieninvader @ggukjitaejin @xakemi-chiix @vantaenims @atulipandarose​ @moments-of-melancholy @xclo02 @cherub-kookie @gottadreamitallaway​ @indiesy​ @disn3yfreak @oerangdoongi

You feel yourself stirring back into consciousness, becoming more aware of the soft duvet covers that cocoon you. On an inhale, you pick up the smell of fresh linen with an undertone of warm peppermint and cedar. It's nice, soothing and you bury your nose further in it. But it's definitely not what your bed sheets smell like.

Slowly, your eyes flutter open, vision blurred from the deep slumber you were in and the dimness of the room until you blink to adjust yourself. Through the sliver of thin curtains, you see the still darkened night sky – an endless sea of midnight blue with only the faint golden glow of the city building lights dotting along its surface like makeshift stars. The moon is full tonight, shining brightly and casting its pale rays onto the floor and walls though occasionally, it shies away behind wispy clouds that drift by.

Growing more awake, you begin to notice other things besides the time of day, like how these microfibre sheets were especially soft against your body, caressing your skin as if you're wearing nothing at all.

....Oh, you really were wearing nothing at all.

You pause to think, trying to get the gears working in your head before the memories start to jog again.

You remember meeting Jungkook at that fancy lounge, he had given you the address to where your guardian demon was staying (more like hiding). You had marched up, banging on his door and demanding him to explain why the fuck he would hide something as important as attempting to transition to a guardian angel –

Your eyes widen, a sick surge of panic rushing from your gut and you might've given yourself whiplash in your haste to see the other side of the bed, only to sigh out quietly, your palpitating heart settling back to a calm, steady beat. Carefully, you roll yourself over, shuffling closer and finally letting yourself take him in, like Psyche laying eyes on Eros for the first time.

He sleeps so soundly, almost angelically and you resist the urge to snort at the irony of that thought, but with the way his dark raven locks are tousled, strands falling over his forehead, delicate lashes brushing the tops of his cheeks and his full pink lips that are parted slightly as the moonlight kisses every inch of smooth skin the sheets aren't covering, you swear he could fool anyone into believing it, even heaven themselves.

You can't help but to bring a hand up to sweep away the stray hairs, allowing you a better glimpse of him. It's the first time you've seen him this relaxed, any sort of tension no longer marring his elegant face, like for once he doesn't have to put on a strong front and the sight has you bewitched, wanting to take in as much as you can. When your fingers gently glide down his profile, you're surprised they come away a little warmer. In fact, the more you look, you think his complexion has improved, a healthier glow compared to when you first saw him. Is it your imagination? Or the trick of the light? You lift your head to try and get a better look.

You feel him stir before you can be sure of it and you're met with obsidian irises that seem to bore into your soul. There's a slightly dazed look in his eyes that has a fond smile tug at the corner of your lips as you settle back down again.

“Hi.” You whisper, as if afraid you'll break the peace of the night.

Recognition flits through his gaze at the sound of your voice and he mirrors your smile, breathing a soft sigh. He lifts the hand that was resting on his stomach to take hold of yours resting on his cheek.

“Hey.” It comes out deep and husky; still heavily laden with sleep and raspy from disuse. He turns so that he's facing you properly, thumb stroking the back of your hand before he places a kiss on your inner wrist. “Thought I was dreaming for a second...”

You let out what can only be described as a mix between a throaty laugh and a garble, a rather unattractive noise that has you pulling your hand back to cover your face in embarrassment, cheeks heating up further when your muffled voice comes out extremely hoarse and cracks if you so much as raise it.

“You can't say that when you were literally sleeping like a French girl waiting to be painted.”

He chuckles, not hesitating to pull you into his chest and sneaking another kiss to your forehead. You snuggle against him happily, throwing your arm across his stomach and pressing your own lips to his collarbone in return as he slips an arm under your head to use as a pillow.

“You're one to talk.” You hear him say above you before adding teasingly, “When you're not stealing all the blanket.”

You lightly push your knuckles at his jaw but there was no real force or seriousness behind the reprimand; just a case of your usual banters acting up. He retaliates by playfully snapping his teeth at your hand, as if to bite the fingers and you pull back, squealing and giggling.

“No biting!”

“So no biting I see...Duly noted then.”

Your mouth drops open, scandalized as your gaze whips up, only to find him barely containing a suggestive smirk at you.

“...I don't like what you're implying...” You say, eyes narrowing even though you find yourself subtly sinking lower in an attempt to hide the blush you feel rushing up your neck. He catches you all the same, tilting his head as the lazy smirk grows.

“Oh darling I only say to better please you. Although,” He pauses, slowly, purposefully leaning down closer to you, a gleam in his eyes that you swear made his dark eyes deepen into a devilish crimson for a split second.

“We'll probably have to work on that stamina – can't have you tapping out just after three orgasms.”

You choke, completely flustered at such brazen and lascivious words that sound far too honeyed than they should be, making the memories seem all the more vivid in your mind. Your entire body feels incredibly hot suddenly and not knowing what to do, you whine helplessly and attempt to roll away from him but he holds onto you, the sounds of his laughter tinkling in your ears.

“You're not getting any of this blanket for that now.” You pout, bunching and tugging the sheets to your chest more.

“I'm just teasing love, I couldn't help myself!” He giggles, nuzzling into your shoulder. “Forgive me?”

You let the silence drag out for a few seconds longer before you sneak a peek over, letting out a snort when you see him blinking big puppy dog eyes at you. You're biting back a smile as you turn to face him again.

“You're lucky you're cute.”

His eyes crease up as he brings a hand up to cup your cheek, stroking the soft skin. You lean into his touch, watching him affectionately until you see his expression dim to something more sombre.

“I really am sorry Y/N.” He confesses quietly, voice tinged with a heavy guilt as his fingers move to play distractedly with your hair, gently tucking the loose strands behind your ear or brushing them off your shoulder. “I'm sorry I kept this from you for as long as I did....”

You open your mouth to speak, but stop midway. You'd be lying if you said that you're not completely over being mad at him for what he did, however, the initial anger had more or less simmered to a heartache you can't quite shake. You feel him beginning to withdraw his touch, perhaps misreading your silence as reopening a tender wound but you bring a hand up to entangle your fingers with his, keeping them in place.

“I know you said you did it to protect me but,” The sigh you let out holds a lingering sadness, “I still wished you had told me...” You chastised, stern yet gentle as you lock a steady gaze on him. “You really had me worried and scared. I thought something happened to you...like...” You swallow and he squeezes your hand lightly in comfort. “Like the night I found you...in my room.”

He nods, solemnly conceding and his eyes drift away, reflecting in his thoughts.

“I'm sure you figured by now; that night was when I had came back from starting the transitioning process.” He rolls until he's lying on his back, staring aimlessly at the ceiling and you shuffle closer in his loosened hold, not wanting to be apart from his warmth, listening. “Usually not a big deal....but for a demon, it was dangerous.” A rueful chuckle. “To be honest, I still don't know how I even survived...”

Your heart clenches at the thought and you bite your lip, pushing down the lump that's growing.

“But ever since then, my body's been...off, and it only grew worse each day – to the point where using my powers for even the simplest things put a huge strain on me.” He inhales deeply, as if he's trying to breathe past the weight that's been sitting on his chest. “I felt so exhausted all the time; I thought at this rate, I wouldn't be able to do anything. I wouldn't be able to protect you from the misfortunes that follow me and if I couldn't do that much, it would be better for me to stay away, keep you from the dangers and...” You see his jaw stiffen before he directs his gaze to the side, face turned away from you. “Keep you from seeing me this way; helpless, weak.”

The last few words come out as if he loathes to admit them aloud, voice tight. You hear how frustrated he is with himself and you're quick to assuage those tumultuous thoughts, rising so that you hover above his form to cup his face in your hands until your eyes meet, pulling him from the abyss.

“I would rather be in danger than have you risk your life.” You say, softening when you continue, “I don't want to lose you....You mean so much to me. Please don't ever forget that.”

Dark eyes, much like the starless night sky outside the window, widen fractionally. You fight the blush threatening to bloom across your cheeks, realizing how ardent you might've sound but you speak honestly, even if your heart feels like it's about to beat out of your ribcage at any moment. You think it speeds up when you see his mouth tug into a small smile and he leans up to brush his nose against yours tenderly, winding one arm around your waist to press you even closer to his body, half lying on top of him.

“I never would've thought in my lifetime I would find someone like you cherub.” He says in disbelief, free hand coming up to bury into the locks of your hair, palm resting on the back of your neck. “I've done nothing to deserve you.”

“Well, you're just gonna have to accept it.” You answer, planting a light kiss on the tip of his nose. “Because I'm not going anywhere.” You punctuate each word with a kiss to the apple's of his cheeks, forehead, over the lids of his eyes, and finally on pillowy soft lips. You can't help but linger there a little longer. When you pull away, it's to take in his visage, eyes travelling over his form before something catches your attention.

At first, you didn't recognize it; the blemish appearing more or less like a birthmark, however, you see the size it takes up on the left side of his chest and it's then you realize that it was the tattoo you had seen, only this time it appeared to be so much more faded, and in some places, the inky lines have disappeared altogether. You frown, troubled at having not noticed until now...or perhaps from the fact that you had entirely missed it because it was barely there anymore, you're not sure.

“I'm guessing this is because of the process too?” You ask, thoughtlessly tracing the pads of your fingers over what's left of the mark. He hums, the sound rumbling beneath your palm as his larger hand encompasses yours, holding it in place and you feel the steady beating of his heart.

“I'm not surprised, it's the mark of a demon after all.” He explains, none too bothered and lightly shrugging at that. When the hard line of your lips doesn't let up, he chuckles, reaching up to poke your cheek. “It's just a mark cherub, nothing serious. It's meant to distinguish our kind because of our ability to take on any human appearances.”

Still, you don't like how it's another glaringly obvious sign that your guardian demon's health is deteriorating, an unwanted byproduct to add to the pile that does nothing but taunt you. It has your thoughts straying back to the idea that you had your mind set on. You're very tempted to bring it up; wanting to desperately tell him that you might've found another way, that he doesn't need to endure any more pain or sacrifices for your sake, that for once, maybe you can do something for him after all he's done for you.

“Cherub?”

The soft call brings you back, eyes refocusing on the demon who blinks up at you curiously with the faintest hints of concern etched across his deceivingly delicate features. At the sight, you feel yourself melting, endeared and suddenly you can't bear to ruin this sweet moment with another heavy topic – you both had just came to terms and settled the whole guardian angel thing after all.

You'll tell him later, right now you'd rather be making up the lost time you could've had kissing and snuggling him.

So in the end, it gets pushed to the very back of your mind and you redirect to something else, “Sorry, I was just thinking about what you said; how demons can take on any human appearances. I'll admit, your Jimin look is impressive.”

You see him take pause, no doubt trying to process the flitting thought that has just passed before ultimately, he chooses to let it slide and allows you to pull him into your playful antics. The smug smirk that makes its way onto his lips has a coquettish one sneaking onto your own. “But,” you almost laugh at how fast he falters at the single word and your smile grows more and more teasing. “I'm afraid you got sloppy, with or without your mark I could easily tell you weren't actually Jimin.”

He scoffs, looking thoroughly affronted by your claims. “How? I think my look is pretty spot on.”

You hum, propping up a little more so that you can brush the dark strands of hair on his forehead with the tips of your finger. “True....But you could say almost too perfect. See, Jimin has a beauty mark here.” You gently tap on a spot just above his left brow and you giggle when the skin wrinkles up in his effort to follow your movement attentively. “And here...” Your finger lowers to the edge of his collarbone. “And one on the back of his neck. You only managed to get the one on his cheek right.”

The indignant grunt he makes lets you know he's pouting without you even having to look.

“His teeth aren't perfectly straight like yours either – one of his front tooth is slightly crooked.”

“...I do hope your interest in teeth won't go beyond that...”

You smack his chest lightly, kissing your teeth but otherwise make no further comment. “I think the last thing that gave you away is your choice in piercings...” You point out, brushing your thumb against the sensitive shell of his ear where the helix stud sits. “Jimin doesn't have this one anymore.”

“A shame really...” You hear the demon murmur and your eyebrows quirk, barely catching the way he swallows thickly, eyes darting off to the side.

You blink, wondering if you've made him self-conscious or uncomfortable in any way but little do you know, the demon is only relieved you hadn't noticed the goosebumps that have erupted over his arm at your innocent touch.

“You're right, and that's why I like it – the helix piercing.” You continue, smiling gently. “And everything else you missed. It's like your own kind of imperfections and preferences...it just proves that you're you, and not Jimin.”

You can't help letting your voice tether off into something much softer for the quiet confession hidden in those last few words.

You're the one I love.

Your stomach flutters with butterflies at the foreign feeling, shrinking in on yourself out of shyness and you know you really shouldn't be, but you're also nervous; for what you're not even entirely sure. Mentally, you scold yourself – you must seem like such a weird, emotional mess of a human being to him.

The rumbling vibrations of his chuckle catches your attention, as does the palm of his hand coming up to cup your cheek.

“Well, I'm glad that you're the one to differentiate the two of us.”

He doesn't need to say anything else because from the fond look in his eyes and the tender dulcet tone of his voice, you see and hear his unspoken response, how much it means to him.

Thank you for loving me, for me.

Your heart swells unbelievably in size that you're actually left a little breathless. The butterflies are going crazy now and so overwhelmed by your emotions but not knowing how to express them adequately, you bury your face into his neck and squeeze a tight hug into him. You get a breathy laugh in response and feel his strong arms squeezing you right back, his mouth pressing into the crown of your head. You stay like that for a while, simply taking in the scent that is so uniquely his. It never fails to relax every nerve in your body, and coupled with the rhythmic stroking of his hand through your hair, you find yourself struggling to blink away the heaviness that's starting to fall over your lids.

Your lips move in a drowsy mumble, sluggishly forming the beginnings of his name but then stopping abruptly. Lifting your head so that you can look at him, you're suddenly wide eyed with the realization.

“I should probably stop calling you 'Jimin' then huh?”

Obsidian eyes blink down at you, amusement shining in their depths for the way you seem so pressed about the issue, like you had offended him to the highest degree. Your chest moves in sync with the deep inhale he takes, watching as he languidly lifts his arm to tuck it behind his head, his expression shifting to something a little more pensive before he seems to reach a conclusion.

“As much as I appreciate the sentiment cherub, I think it's safer if you still continue to. When I said there is power to a name, I didn't mean so lightly. A demon can be overpowered or even banished should their true name be known; be it by a medium, an exorcist or –“

“An angel.”

The words slips out unconsciously in a small whisper, like you're afraid to speak it into existence.

“...Yes, especially angels.” He answers you like he was the bearer of bad news, only you knew that much already. You might not be an expert, but you think it's pretty basic knowledge that demons (and by proxy, other kinds of dark entities) can be expelled in some form or another – your past jokes and gibes at your own guardian demon were proof of that matter alone.

However, now you've been hit in the face with just how volatile that reality is; and all it would take is uttering his name to the wrong person.

“I won't let that happen.”

It's a promise, a vow; one you'll be damned if you broke. He smiles, endeared at your unwavering display of determination.

“I know you won't love, but regardless, if you ever find yourself in danger don't hesitate to call my name.”

Your brows furrow in protest. “But that's too –”

“No buts Y/N.” He gently reprimands you, curling a finger under your chin so that your eyes lock onto the firm gaze he fixes you with. “As your guardian; your safety is still and will always remain my priority.”

There's a finality with the statement that lets you know that no amount of arguing will change his mind on that and your mouth reluctantly falls shut. At your conflicted and crestfallen look, he softens.

“Hey.”

You perk up slightly and feel the featherlight brushes of his finger against the roundness of your cheek, a small placating gesture.

“Don't worry too much on it cherub, just something I want you to keep in mind yeah?”

You want to weakly retort that it's too late for that, mind already running amok with worse case scenarios. You don't get too far into it however, as fatigue rolls over you like a powerful wave, overtaking you in the form of a giant yawn that you struggle to stifle; the force of it has your whole body shuddering.

“We should really stop meeting like this, I'm afraid it's finally taking a toll on you.”

The disgruntled noise you let out gets muffled in with the last remnants of the tired exhale. You don't truly understand what he means until you blink away the tears, catching sight of a sleek digital clock sitting on the night stand, and squinting, you see the numbers illuminating in green reads 4:45AM.

You groan and feel as if whatever remaining energy you had is drained after knowing the time. Shutting your eyes, your body sags completely, half-draped unceremoniously over the firm body of your demon.

“Now, now princess, you'll regret falling asleep like this when you wake up.” You hear him tut before you feel yourself be moved, rolled to your side so that you lie properly on the mattress. You whine, was perfectly contented where you were but settle once you feel arms wrap itself around your waist, pulling you close and your face is once again buried perfectly into the crook of his neck, head resting on the pillow.

The calming scent of him along with his warmth and the plush covers cocooning you easily allows for sleep to pull at your lids once more, your own arms instinctively curling around him.

“Good?”

You hum, sighing out as your worries slowly muddle together into nothing more than a heavy fog and when he starts to run his fingers through your hair again, you're practically mush.

“...You never answered my question...” You murmur thoughtlessly, like a subconscious, knee jerk reaction born from a last minute need for some peace of mind before you finally succumb to the rapidly growing fatigue. His hand stills momentarily, and you're not sure if it's because he had barely made out your slurred words or if it's to recall the memory. There's a lapse in silence, how long you're not even sure at this point as you feel yourself drifting in and out of being awake, but then you hear it – sweet and wistful.

“...For as long as I'm yours, I'll stay.”

-

The next time you wake, it is to a warmth that you quickly find wasn't the kind you expected nor want. The soft rays of the sun easily pierces through the chiffon curtains that drape over the floor to ceiling windows in the bedroom, bathing the space in a golden haze and while often times, it leaves for an impressive view of the vast cityscape below, you're not entirely appreciative of the exposure it gives you now. Not only did it disrupt you from your peaceful slumber, it does little to hide the coolness you feel from the empty space beside you.

You sit up with a start, still dazed and stay there for a good minute, squinting through the light that's way too bright the same time trying to kickstart your mind into gear – you never were the best person to wake up, it took you forever to get yourself together. Eventually, your eyes begin to take in what's around you, the dark grey sheets that pool around your waist and finally getting a good look at the interior of the room.

It's ridiculously spacious, as is the bed you're sitting in, even from what little you had seen initially amidst the dim lighting along with the flurry of heightened emotions and passion. In fact, it looks a lot like a snapshot right out of a luxury home interior decorating magazine if you're going to be honest.

Off the bat, you can tell the colour scheme was mainly dark greys, creams, and blacks, accented by the same deep mahogany wood of the front door. It was also decorated simply with minimalistic styled furnishing. Aside from the low laying king sized bed, with its taupe coloured upholstered frame, a dresser sits across from you and in the far corner facing the large windows was a singular lounge chair with a small coffee table situated in front.

Turning your head, you see matching night tables, both with identical geometric lamps but one had the clock you spotted earlier, the time now reading 2:16PM. To your left, you notice a doorway situated perpendicular to the large windows in one corner of the room while to the right of you, there was another door and just ahead to the right was another. Immediately, you guess that these lead off to one of three places; a bathroom, a closet or the main hall leading out to the rest of the penthouse.

A shiver passes through you, causing you to momentarily shrink in on yourself and reminding you that you're still very much nude. Self-consciously, you tug the blankets around you back up once more, wearing it as a makeshift cape as you continue to glance around the room, now with more awake eyes. It's then that you finally notice your neatly folded clothes laying on the black cushioned bench at the end of the bed, and sitting just beside that pile was a plain black robe and towels. The rush of air through your nose barely concealed the quiet giggle seeping through – so sweet of him.

You should probably shower, you think. Though surprisingly, you don't feel as grimy as you would have thought but still, it'd be refreshing. You lean over until your hand reaches the robe, already loving the extremely plush softness you feel under your fingertips. It feels even better once you shrug it on, securing the sash around your waist and you honestly think you can fall right back asleep in it. A tempting idea, but you have more pressing matters. Niggling at the back of your mind, a part of you wanted to find your guardian demon first, to check up on him in the same manner he'd so carefully demonstrated upon your waking and confirm your comfort wasn't at the expense of his health. Plus – and even as you admit this, your heart traitorously flutters – you miss him.

You shuffle to the edge of the bed until you're able to swing your legs over, letting the soles of your feet touch the cream carpeting before you haul yourself up. You sharply inhale, halting in your steps at the popping of joints and a dull ache, the latter catching you off guard (and causing a mad rush of heat to your face) that you had to take a moment before tentatively continuing to the door farthest from you.

Just as your hand brushes the handle, your hair falls over your face and without thinking, you sweep it away but the motion makes you pause abruptly. Slowly, your mind jogs back up to speed, your fingers combing through the messy locks in an attempt to smooth it out and suddenly you need a mirror. Actually, never mind a mirror, you probably should at least brush your teeth before heading out so recklessly!

Shamefaced, you change course, heading straight to the door you guessed was the en suite bathroom. The moment you opened the door, you're immediately taken aback. Much like the bedroom, the bathroom was quite big and so cleanly decorated with wide windows that take up one wall, offering whoever that was soaking in the Jacuzzi bathtub the same expansive view as the bedroom. Aside from the tub, there was also a glass shower stall big enough to fit at least four people at once despite having a bench inside, the stone marble matching in colour with the twin sink counter and cool grey tiles.

It takes you a moment to compose yourself again from being awestruck with the excessive bathroom and after much careful rifling in the medicine cabinet, you find a spare toothbrush and a travel sized toothpaste pack.

Teeth brushed and a little bit more refreshed from a splash of water to your face, you finally poke your head out of the door your had initially set your sights on. You find your previous suspicions correct as laid out before you was a hallway, the walls a warm cream beige colour that matched the carpet that continued outside the bedroom and any doors were of the same mahogany wood. It wasn't fairly long as you see just not far ahead, the carpeting stops at a threshold of sorts and leads off to another open space with dark granite flooring. Immediately, you're drawn out without hesitation because from the small glimpse alone, your eyes were already bugging out of your head.

So by the time you actually reached the end, you swear your jaw just about dropped off its hinges. The space you stumbled into was a living room, the size alone you think equalled to your kitchen, living room and bedroom, with its high ceilings, so tall that there's room to hang an equally large linear chandelier without appearing claustrophobic (in fact, the lighting fixture itself looked as if it could pass off as an expensive art installation) and if you had thought the view in the bedroom was extreme, you've been proven sorely wrong.

One side of the room is entirely made up of floor to ceiling windows, making the view even more vast with nothing obstructing it that if you had peered over, you would believed you were simply floating on a cloud in the sky, truly suspended in mid-air. Mounted on the wall adjacent to the panel of large glass was a sleek, electric fireplace, the flames dancing over small, white pebbled stones rather than wood and at the centre were long velvet couches surrounding a simple wood coffee table, all encircled by a lush white fur rug.

What's more, the other thing that had caught your attention was the set of floating stairs that lead up to another level of the penthouse – leading to what you're not sure. With your eyes so busily roaming about the entire area, you had failed to notice the person you've initially set out to look for until the very last moment, finally spotting his figure ahead in the kitchen situated under the large landing of the stairs. His back was turned towards you so all you saw was his tousled raven locks, the faint twinkling of his silver chained earrings and a loose fitting white tunic. Automatically, you smile, your heart easing and suddenly the splendour of this luxurious penthouse means nothing to you.

Despite your approach being fairly quiet, you knew it was no match for the heightened senses of a demon and without surprise, you see him turn his head slightly to acknowledge your presence just as you reach the island counter separating you from him.

“Slept well cherub?” He asks with a charming quirk of his lips.

You seat yourself on the breakfast stool, propping your arm on top of the marble counter top and hum, pretending to think.

“For Egyptian cotton, it wasn't too bad I guess.”

You get a chuckle from him before he turns his attention back to what's in front of him, and it's then that you smell the cooking of eggs and bacon. Instantly, your stomach gurgles, demanding to be fed and your cheeks colour at the loud sound it made. There's no way the demon in front of you could've missed it, even if he didn't have supernatural hearing. So as if prompted, he lifted the sizzling pan and dispensed its contents onto a pristine white plate sitting beside the stove, just as the toaster pinged.

You watch him take the single slice between his fingers before he faces you once more, presenting you a plate of creamy scrambled eggs, strips of crispy bacon and perfectly golden toast on the side.

“Sorry if it's a little lacking. I've found that throughout the years, I don't have a good grasp of flavours humans enjoy.” He apologizes. “Eggs and bacon are the few dishes you can't really go wrong with.”

You suppress the snort, accepting the plate gratefully nonetheless and not minding his forewarning – it made sense after all so you assured, “Hey, at least it looks edible and cooked well; already better than my own scrambled eggs and bacon.”

The smile he gives you makes his eyes crease into crescent moons, his cheeks rounding with a glimmer of mirth that makes him appear very boyish. He hands you a silver fork pulled from one of the drawers.

“Very sweet of you cherub.”

Your eyes squint and your cheeks puff up from the force of the exaggerated, syrupy sweet smile you give him, wiggling in your seat like a cheeky five year old as you lift your hand to take the utensil. You miss the crooked stretch of his lips so before you could close around the fork, he pulls it out of reach and lightly bonks the back of your hand with it. The shock of the metal hitting your knuckle jolts you and your eyes snap open in an instant, mouth open.

“Jimin!” You say, aghast but the sound is more or less void of any real offence as you act out cradling your 'injured' hand.

All he does is bark a single laugh and gesture to the fork for you to take again. “Eat up, food's getting cold.”

Not like you needed to be told twice, if not by Jimin then the sounds of your growling stomach. You gratefully begin to chew on the eggs and bacon (albeit they were on the bland side, but food is food and you ate happily). Meanwhile, Jimin busies himself making a cup of tea for you after he had asked your preferences and as he does, you both chatted, mainly about this apartment you didn't know he had.

“I rarely have any use for these places because I never really stay for long.” Jimin explains casually, sliding you a steaming mug as you finish your last bit of toast. “I use them if I have time or if I just want some place quiet to relax and not be disturbed.”

“Then what's the point of having a place so big?” You ask, exchanging your empty plate for the mug, wrapping it up in your hands to warm your palms.

He props up an elbow, leaning on the counter with a cheek resting in one palm and shrugs. “I can't deny I like nice things but in the end, it doesn't have any real value to me.” Here, a sly smile makes his way onto those pillowy soft lips. “You can have it if you want.”

The sentence nearly makes you spit out the tea you had so meticulously been blowing on and you cough, stammering, “I-It's fine! Don't joke like that!”

“I wasn't joking, I was being serious.”

The way Jimin said it was so matter of fact that you could only blink in disbelief. After much floundering, you clear your throat, bringing up the mug closer to your face in hopes of shielding the heat that's spreading over your cheeks. “Still, there's no need. I can't possibly take your house.”

The demon in front of you puffs a chortle, still looking as carefree on the matter as ever, “If you ever change your mind, let me know.”

You grunt bemusedly, mumbling about how you wouldn't even know what to do with a place so big, before taking a slow sip of your tea, humming lightly at the warming feeling and the pleasant taste. Jimin watches you quietly, a content smile on his face. You try to seem unbothered but evidently, the effects of your newly blossomed relationship with him has yet to calm down and so, your heart fluttered in your chest incessantly the moment you locked gazes with those irises, dark as night that seem to only shine on you.

Suddenly, you find yourself in a paradox – while you feel like you're struggling to maintain eye contact with Jimin, no matter how much your eyes flit and wander aimlessly, in the end you're drawn back to him anyways. Rather shameless you think, but confidently, you could at least say that you can't be blamed.

You're not sure if it's the sun's rays, so freely beaming into the room from those large windows, or it's just Jimin, but he seems to emit an unexplained ethereal glow. Gone was the ashen paleness that had made his skin appear almost translucent, his complexion radiates a warm honeyed suppleness that you've missed seeing on him because with it, he looked so much livelier.

Wait.

Now that nothing is hindering your sights, you see clearly that any ailments on his features have been significantly reduced. The purplish dark circles that had clung under his eyes are gone, his cheeks don't seem to be so sunken in and even his raven black hair, tousled effortlessly, had a wonderful sheen as it fell in thick waves over his forehead.

It's with without a doubt, this Jimin in front of you right now really was indeed healthier.

Unconsciously you find your hand reaching out to his face as if wanting to confirm physically that this was no illusion or dream, making Jimin blink in surprise before he gently catches your hand mid-way.

“Something wrong cherub?”

“It's just,” You start, fingers automatically clasping in his hold and you absentmindedly think how soft and warm his hands were. “How are you feeling?”

The sudden question must've caught Jimin a little off guard so after a second of serious considerations, he replies, “I feel...pretty good?”

“You look pretty good too.” The words slip right out before you realized it but once you do, you pull your hand back hastily, flustered as you rambled. “Not that you don't always look good! Because you do! Because you know, you're a demon, master of disguises and all that, and you've even got on arguably one of the best looking faces on the planet so what I meant was you don't look like a ghost that's been dead for centuries anymore instead of a demon like you're supposed to be!”

Jimin, of course, didn't really bother to hide the toothy grin that's forming yet very graciously still moved the subject along in fear that you would pass out. “You do have a point – as you've seen and have been told, the effects of the transition were obvious on me. But,” He lifts up a hand to eye level, spreading his fingers and flipping it this way and that. “I...really do feel fine. Much better than I have for days.” The last admittance has his shapely brows furrowing, as if he couldn't believe it himself once he's said it aloud.

“Is there any sort of explanation for this?” You ask.

Then, after some pondering, he slowly let his hand fall to his side and hummed, “There are...a few number of possibilities I can think of. The most likely one is that unconsciously, I might've taken some energy from you.”

“Taken from me? When did – oh...” It clicked just as the sentence was coming out and instantly your face flushes, eyes wide. Jimin's brow rose, his lips twitching imperceptibly at the corner and you rush, clearing your throat to cover up. “I thought that was like....a specific ability you needed to have, unless you mean to tell me you're an incubus...”

Jimin snorts, bringing a fist up to cover his mouth before he said, “No cherub, I'm not. All demons possess this ability to a certain degree but most usually lean towards certain affinities. Unless you're specifically an incubus, there are other way demons can gain sustenance or a source for their power other than taking energy directly from humans.”

At such news, your own brows raise in curiousity and you can't help but to ask. “Then what do you usually use?”

“Oh the usual; fear, invoking murderous intent, enticing those into depravity.” Jimin lightly lists off, as if he's talking about hobbies he likes to do on a lazy Sunday.

“Hah....” You shouldn't be so surprised. “Well, either way, as long as you're feeling better.”

Jimin hums noncommittally, distractedly reaching out to tuck a strand of fallen hair behind your ear and though his face is mostly impassive, you get the feeling that he was still deeply mulling over this. But the pensive look soon disappears, his eyes going slightly hooded as something else had caught his attention, his focus going to a place on your neck. You felt the hand brushing your hair come to a slow too and shivered when the pads lightly graze the skin there, trailing a path downwards before stopping.

“What a mess I've made.” The low rumbling murmur has your breath involuntarily hitching and your chin automatically tilts down to see what he was referring to. With his prodding, the collar of your robe had been pushed open to reveal the purplish colouring that mottled the surface of the skin along your collarbone and already without needing to see the full extent of the bruising, you know your neck is covered with them.

It was honestly something you hadn't thought about until it's been pointed out so the moment actually caught you off guard and in your stupor, you can only half coherently say, “Not like it hurts or anything...”

When his fingers draw the robe back a little further to get a clearer look, he unwittingly stumbles into another rather troubling thing.

“You're not dressed.”

“...Well, I was gonna shower....” You mumble, letting your eyes drift off from embarrassment. You hear Jimin breathe out a snicker.

“Dirty girl.”

You narrow your gaze back at him, pouting your lips. “Why don't you show me how to work your fancy expensive shower then.”

He laughs. “It's just a bunch of knobs cherub, how hard can it be?”

“Do you even shower?” You ask back accusingly, hands coming up to rest on your hips.

At that, he cocks his head, stepping back with arms crossed and almost haughtily, “I do, in fact, I already did shower this morning. I'm a little offended you would accuse me of having poor hygiene.”

You copy his pose and sniff, “Sure could've fooled me.”

It's obvious what a lie that was because out of the two of you, anyone could tell with one glance which one is likely to smell more like vanilla and peaches (not you), but you can't help making it a habit to poke the tiger when it's asleep.

Sure enough, Jimin's mouth drops open, looking at you incredulously and an actual hint of mild offence. Then he puffs out a scoff, lips quirking up at the corner and suddenly you don't like that glint in his eyes. In a frighteningly calm manner, Jimin lowers his arms and then smiled serenely, only it came off more creepy than reassuring.

“Y/N ~ ....” He singsongs and as if the impending danger has heightened your senses, you see him subtly shift his weight and it's all you need to whip around and take off running, squealing as you go. Probably not the greatest idea since how the hell do you expect to outrun a demon but when you heard the sounds of his jovial laughing right behind you, you think at least some good came out of it.

[writeblrfantasy]

here it is!

my pride and joy, the piece that has completely hijacked my brain and my life for the past 24 hours. this is the prologue, some might say, to TDOSA, featuring the vibes of an endless, sunny summer, the sense of floating through time and space, and a lot of lesbian yearning and projection, i present: the summer of seret ashling.

cw implied sex, blood

word count around 6300

one time tags of interest @ashen-crest @ettawritesnstudies

tdosa taglist (lmk to be added/removed) magic-is-something-we-create @hysteriwah @imjustalonesomewriteblr @a-forgotten-dusk @bronwennjames @metanoiamorii

Lysandra Fleming’s summer begins like this: a lonely night in Briar Bar, sipping a warm mug of cherry syrup. Not because she is cold—the heat in Vashiri Valley does not begin with summer, nor does it end there. Cherry syrup is vile and bitter and sweet at the same time, made worse warm, but the smooth way it goes down reminds her of childhood, the strange days when she actually liked this stuff.

Not home. She has not had a home since she was a child, when the supposed charm of the palace still worked on her. What were once silky ribbons in her hair became the invisible chains and rules of her parents, tying her down.

Lysandra, you can’t do this, it will reflect badly on us, or Lysandra, you can’t speak to that person, can’t smile at them, can’t see them, don’t you know what they did ten years ago? Don’t you know who their parents are? Vashiri Valley is struggling for power enough without you mucking it up.

Lysandra stopped smiling altogether.

Now, she comes to Briar Bar to be left alone with her cherry syrup, to melt into the crowd, to be normal, for once. Instead, others smile at her the way her parents always encouraged she smile, fake, polite enough, with an ulterior gleam in their eye. So many eyes watch her in want, but she does not feel seen at all by any of them.

The room’s quiet conversation dims and dissolves into whispers, prompting Lysandra to glance over at the reason. The reason is facing away from Lysandra, wearing a tall black hat and a black suit that nearly blends into the darkness of the walls, if not for the white shirt the woman is wearing underneath.

Lysandra didn’t see her come in, and all eyes turn to the tall, dark stranger, wondering the same thing. Her companions across the room point her in Lysandra’s direction, who braces for another meaningless smile, another delighted to meet you, Highness.

The woman turns, and Lysandra sees brown skin, black hair falling in long, loose curls, a subtle, close mouthed smile that draws her attention instantly. Brown eyes meet Lysandra’s green.

“Seret Ashling, my princess.” Seret Ashling leans down, never breaking eye contact, and kisses the top of Lysandra’s hand, holding her fingers delicately, but not like she’s glass. She treats Lysandra like she knows, instantly, her boundaries, how far she can safely push, what Lysandra can take—which is a lot more than most people guess.

Already, Lysandra likes her.

Lysandra is not her princess. She knows the name of every person in this valley, and she knows she’s never even seen Seret before. Even the name is foreign to her. Seh-reht.

That makes it all the better.

She moves her stool a little farther from the empty one beside her, raising an eyebrow in an invitation Seret accepts, removing her hat and tucking it under her arm to smoothly mount the stool. Seret sits with a straight back but ankles curled around the legs of the stool, adding enough humanity to her presence to make Lysandra smile.

She does not prop her elbow on the table, she does not order anything, but she does stare at Lysandra like she’s the most interesting person in the room. Lysandra can tell, somehow, that this gaze is genuine, not hastily crafted and practiced to impress her.

She offers to buy Lysandra another mug of cherry syrup, and Lysandra lets her.

***

Everywhere Lysandra goes, Seret seems to find her. She’s the talk of the valley, enrapturing them with her tall, dark, handsome aura, her small smile, the way the sun shines off her hair.

Finally Seret takes the leap and asks her out to places in Vashiri City Lysandra has been a thousand times, but somehow Seret’s presence paints color to her world again instead of the dull greens and golds the valley has become.

Their connection is instant, from Briar Bar to the lane of potion shops to the muffled awe in Seret’s face when she sees the Academy. At some point, Seret takes Lysandra’s hand, and they stroll through the town like they are not a princess and the new obsession of Vashiri Valley.

Everyone has been asking Seret about herself, where she’s from, what family she has, but she slips out of answering like a snake from a trap. Her smile is quite persuasive. Lysandra doesn’t even try to pry the answer out of her, though she might be the one person to succeed. Seret still looks at her every time like she’s the sun and the moon and the stars.

Lysandra’s heart thrums with nerves every hour before their dates, afraid of messing things up and driving Seret away, but the moment Seret enters the room, her heart calms. Seret gives her a warm hug that envelopes her whole soul, tells her she missed her dearly, and Lysandra wonders why she was ever worried. Seret seems impossible to offend.

“I am going to buy you a gift,” Seret announces on one of their dates in town, in a tone which makes it clear this is non-negotiable. Lysandra only nods. Seret pauses between two shops, one being the most popular jewelry store in the city with a line out the door, the one across the street being an adorable but little known competitor.

Lysandra waits for Seret to get in line for the popular jewelry store, but instead the woman lingers in front of the door of the other shop before opening it. “Don’t peek,” she says with a little smile, shutting the door and triggering the little bell. Lysandra stands there gawking like a fool until Seret emerges ten minutes later holding a little square box.

When Lysandra opens it with trembling hands, she finds a little heart shaped necklace, gold with a silver center on a golden chain. The gold probably isn’t real, probably just paint, but the pink paper wrapping the necklace and the little thank you card inside the box make her smile when the shop across the street wouldn’t.

The plain red and blue shelves in the windows of the other shop, where her family’s jeweler gets his jewels, have nothing on the soft pinks, greens, and browns of the cheap shop owned by twins. They keep flowers in their windows, pink carnations, and prices written in loopy court script.

“Do you like it?” Seret asks nervously, and Lysandra realizes she hasn’t said a word.

“I love it. Thank you.” She offers it up to Seret to clasp around her neck. Seret’s warm fingertips brush the back of her neck, and shivers run down Lysandra’s spine. This is special, her heart keeps telling her, like she doesn’t already know. This is different.

“How did you know?” Lysandra asks.

“Know what?”

“That I’d like this better than the shop across the street.”

“You’re a princess, you’re used to expensive jewelry, and you’ve publicly and loudly denounced royal life. Also, I’d rather give my money to them, seems like they actually need it. Don’t you agree?”

Lysandra has to take a deep breath to keep from blurting out something stupid. “Yes. I agree.”

Their first kiss a day later is a ray of light and a shadow of darkness, colliding and exploding in a glorious show of white and black, settling as ashes and debris into serene, calm gray. They are not the sun and moon. Lysandra is too sharp to be the sun, Seret too dim to be the moon.

It is the death of something. The birth. Lysandra can’t define what.

***

When Lysandra asks, Seret says she came to Vashiri Valley to visit and experience its delights, after which she meets Lysandra’s eyes and kisses her hands.

Lysandra hangs around the city apartment Seret rents. It’s close to Wynn’s cabin where she sleeps. She hasn’t slept in the palace in months. The layers of security and scrutiny she has to pass to enter are not worth the temporary comfort of a soft bed and her favorite meals.

She’s sleeping beside Seret before long, unable to bear being apart from her for that long, wondering how she behaves during such a precious time. Seret’s arms are even warmer around her under cool sheets, and in the morning, Seret brings her coffee before disappearing behind a white door.

She reappears in a cloud of steam, smelling like sweet flowers and honeysuckle. Lysandra gets to kiss her good morning and wonder how she got so lucky.

They’re invited to plays, the nights at the bars for amateur bards, the travelling witches who perform at the amphitheater. Lysandra has been to every event in this valley at least once, usually at the request of her family, but Seret loves going. Like the city and the shops and the Academy, experiencing Seret’s joy secondhand is intoxicating.

Everywhere they go, every table they sit at, whether it’s the theater or the bar or a café for a simple breakfast, people are fawning over Seret. The entire valley is enamored with Lysandra’s new lover.

Seret seems to find it amusing, the way they pat her arm and show a comical amount of interest in everything she has to say, just waiting for an opportunity to ask questions that they must know will go unanswered.

Lysandra sits quietly, burning from the way Seret entertains them, smiles at them in her private way. She wants Seret all to herself. She’s used to sharing things with the public, she’s had to share herself her whole life, but Seret is different. Lysandra doesn’t care if it’s selfish, Seret is hers.

When everyone finally seems like they’ve gotten their fill of Vashiri’s new inhabitant, Lysandra takes her to the edge of the forest and the dead tall grass fields beside it. She gets to watch the exact moment Seret falls in love.

Seret has never grinned, never raised her voice louder than a murmur, but her hitch of breath and the way she reaches for Lysandra’s hand is all she needs. Pride blooms in Lysandra’s chest at the realization she’s learned Seret’s little tells like that.

“It’s just a field,” she laughs. She’s laughing more, now, thanks to Seret. Stoic, cynical, unpleasant Princess Lysandra, laughing. This is why she hasn’t let Arlin near Seret yet, she’d never hear the end of it.

“No, it’s not,” Seret breathes, radiating darkness and mystery in a way that is curious, enticing, instead of harmful. Lysandra just wants to follow her into the shadows where no others can see them, hurt them, touch them. “Can’t you see?”

Lysandra strains her neck, but it’s not the fact that Seret is taller than her that’s the problem. “No.”

Seret pulls her along and begins running instead of answering. Lysandra yelps in surprise and stumbles along, staring enviously at Seret’s long legs—long legs, long arms, long face, long fingers, everything about Seret is long. She sweeps Lysandra up in her arms and spins her around, feet in the air, Seret’s strong arms keeping her up.

Seret is grinning for the first time, showing perfect white teeth, her joy the only reason Lysandra doesn’t scream in shock. She trusts Seret utterly, she realizes in a paralyzing moment of clarity, the sun warming her back, the wind blowing through her hair. Seret has never given her a reason not to.

“What’s the matter with you?” Lysandra asks, though she can’t keep the joy out of her own voice. Seret is infectious. Anything she feels reflects on Lysandra.

“We had fields exactly like this in the city where I grew up. I can’t believe I haven’t seen these yet.” She finally sets Lysandra down and immediately kisses her, as has become a habit the last week. Lysandra gives in, gives over entirely.

She has twisted and forced a key into the lock of her heart, but now, she hands the broken key to Seret and wishes her lucky trying to fit it in the rusty, damaged old lock. Lysandra knows she’ll unlock it fast, her eyebrows pinched and frowning in concentration, long fingers working quickly.

She doesn’t tell her that, of course.

Even then, Lysandra knew.

***

They find a cabin at the edge of the fields and the forest which they quickly move into, abandoning Arlin and the boys and Lysandra's family and Vashiri Valley for themselves. Lysandra has no remorse.

Seret shows her how to live in darkness, in quiet, in peace. They prepare coffee in the mornings before the sun floods the fields with light, arms brushing and using only using their sleepy voices when they need to, not wanting to disturb the holy peace of the morning.

They bathe in the evenings indoors where the fading sun doesn’t reach, sitting close in a tub of river water that Lysandra heats.

They spend all day laying on their backs in the fields, one of them lying on the other while someone’s hair is stroked and someone speaks over the wind.

When the afternoon heat turns the sunlight from pleasantly warm to scorching, they move to the shade of the big oak tree near their cabin to eat.

The shadows are their friends in this haven, where no one and nothing else exists but them. Seret trusts them like they trust each other, content to close her eyes and lay her head back against the trunk when she’s done eating.

Lysandra loves the warmth of the sun, but she hates the harsh white spotlight of her family, the prickly rules tying her down, the sense that she can’t ever escape their restraining eyes. She can hide in the darkness from Seret. They’ll never catch her.

Lysandra has never been so invincible, light enough to be picked up on a cloud every time the wind blows. Seret is the only magical thing she’s met that doesn’t have a drop of magic within her.

Seret is ineffable. Unknowable. Larger than life. Lysandra can never hope to understand her fully, but she can try, she can watch and observe, attempt to learn the inner workings of Seret’s mind.

“Seret?” Lysandra asks one afternoon just like every other, where the peace and warmth of their retreat cannot be broken. “Where are you from?”

It is the first time she has asked. She holds her breath, waiting for Seret’s answer, which takes a long time to come. Seret chews on her lip, her expression as guarded as always, until she finally smiles. “Wherever you want me to be from. North, south, east, west, I’ve visited them all. Pick one and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Lysandra’s chest opens to swallow an ache of emptiness. “Maybe later.” It’s not what she wanted, and they both know it. Lysandra inches mere breaths away from Seret’s side, but it won’t go unnoticed. She thought Seret might actually tell her. She rubs the small gold heart between her fingers and sighs.

“Hey,” Seret says, turning Lysandra’s chin towards her. “It’s not because I don’t trust you, because I do. I trust you more than I’ve trusted anyone, more than you know.”

“Then why won’t you tell me?” Need, embarrassing and whiny, sneaks into Lysandra’s voice, but she ignores it. She’s entitled to this answer, at least.

“I don’t want to shatter your world.” Seret sighs and shifts to take Lysandra’s hands in both of hers. “I am from the south. I ran away from home at a young age to travel because my upbringing was hell, and I’ve never stopped since.”

Lysandra breathes out.

“None of that changes how I feel about you,” Seret continues, pleading, the most passionate Lysandra has ever heard her. “I have never met anyone like you, even with everywhere I’ve been. I do not want anyone but you.”

No one has ever said anything like that to Lysandra, and hearing it now gives her pause. The way Seret’s eyes burn on her skin with their dark intensity is exquisite. Lysandra will never get used to it. She does not want to.

“I would not want this with anyone else.” It does not mean the same thing, but Seret smiles, close mouthed, anyway. At times like this, Seret’s secretive nature makes Lysandra’s blood boil, unvoiced screams rise in her throat. She has given so much of herself already, why can Lysandra not know of her past, her family, her ugliest emotions?

She never wants Seret to treat her like glass. The first day they met, Seret got it right. Lysandra can’t bear the thought that Seret is any less perfect than she thinks, that would shatter her, not knowledge of the world beyond the valley.

Lysandra has gotten all she will today. She is content to sigh deeply and lay her head on Seret’s arm. Seret will stroke Lysandra’s hair, and the wind will ruffle her own, and Lysandra’s urge to push it back will fight the warmth settling into her bones. They are fine. They will be fine. Nothing more.

***

On lucky occasions, Seret shares stories of her travels from who knows when, who knows where. She has been everywhere, she said, and Lysandra believes her. She asks about the north, the far east, the west, and Seret’s homeland, the south.

The south could mean any number of things. Lysandra has never been out of Vashiri Valley, and her family have always been vague about what lies beyond their mountains, but Seret describes an actual ocean, the cold water wrapping around her ankles, the hot sand burning her feet.

She takes Lysandra to a desert in her mind, great, sprawling cities, icy lakes and snowy mountains to the north. To the east, she says, more ocean with great brown ships. Lysandra doesn’t care if she’s lying.

She lays in the grass on her side and lets the wind blow her skirts while she travels the world in her mind. Seret closes her eyes and traces mountains, rivers, canyons on her spine, unconsciously pointing in those directions. Lysandra’s breath catches in her throat.

Seret opens her eyes briefly to ask, “Am I boring you?”

Never. You couldn’t if you tried.

Lysandra shakes her head. Seret’s slow, easy smile returns, and the warm fingers on the skin revealed by her backless dress whisk her away to a thousand new worlds so big she can’t even imagine them.

***

“Does it ever bother you that I’m a princess?”

Seret smiles. “That isn’t something that would bother most people in my position.”

“I’d disagree. As the lover of a princess, you have no privacy, there’s expectations, rules you have to follow, harassment…I suppose a better word would be faze. You met and introduced yourself and spoke to me as if I were normal.”

“I called you my princess. the day we met.”

At Lysandra’s withering look, Seret chuckles. “Who said you aren’t normal? You didn’t have any control over what family you were born into. I would still feel the same if you hadn’t rejected your family and your role, if you were princess first and person second. It would be a bit harder to get to you, though, in that stronghold. To me, in that bar, you were just the prettiest girl in the nicest dress with the most captivating eyes. They told me you were a princess—so what? I love you anyway.”

Lysandra’s cheeks burn hot, and she chokes on saliva. The wind picks up, and she feels like she’s falling. How can Seret just say things like that and expect Lysandra not to explode and melt into the sun? “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

Seret smiles again. “I’m not looking to get anywhere. I’m not like those people at the bar when we met. I’m not trying to be like anyone. I’m not not trying to be like anyone. I’m not looking to impress you, honestly. I’m just being honest.”

Lysandra’s breath catches in her throat like a branch stuck in a river, unfazed by the powerful oncoming waves.

Seret is clearly not looking to hear it back, but Lysandra gathers all her courage and quietly says, “I love you, too. I--”

She shies away from Seret’s intense gaze, burning on the back of her neck. “I’m not good at, uh. Saying things like this. Like you. But I want you to know that you’ve changed my life. I don’t know how to thank you for all that you’ve done for me, given me. This place is nothing short of perfect. Every minute we’ve spent together has been nothing short of perfect. I’m sorry I haven’t given you anything back.”

“My dear, you are quite mistaken. You’ve given me the ultimate gift: yourself. The opportunity to know your heart, your mind. You’ve let me in when I can tell you have trouble doing so.”

She kisses the back of Lysandra’s hand, looking up at her through her eyelashes, as she often does. It still makes Lysandra’s entire being heat like the sun itself came down to lay its rays gently onto her, powerful but careful with her.

“You are my entire world,” says Seret, the sun. “The most precious creature in all the places I’ve visited, all the creatures in this valley alone.”

Lysandra smiles. “You haven’t met Wynn Scylla’s dragonlings.”

Deflect. Defend. Dismiss. Seret sees through it.

Lysandra lays their lips together, hoping to convey without the painful process of words said aloud just how much Seret makes her hurt. Seret makes her burn and ache in the best of ways, like a satisfying stretch after waking up from a stiff nap.

Seret challenges her to face things she loves shying away from, things like the swelling of her heart which she hasn’t felt in years. Seret is terrifying, all consuming, but Lysandra can’t imagine a world without her. Much of her allure comes from her mystery, however infuriating her secrecy is.

Hours later, when they’re full and sated from dinner, after they wash the dishes side by side at the river and after they’ve bathed in the tub in the house, Lysandra hears a faint hum, high and low, continuous, lulling and soft. She turns her head and discovers it’s Seret, humming to herself as she drapes the wet towels out to dry. “What’s that you’re humming?”

Seret pauses her sweet melody. “Hm? Oh, just some music from the east. If I had the proper instruments, I would play the tune.”

Lysandra chokes on air. “You can play music, too?”

Seret smiles. “I can do many things.”

“Oh?” Lysandra doesn’t know where her sudden burst of courage comes from. Perhaps she’s the one looking to get somewhere. She raises an eyebrow and crooks a finger, hoping a low tone will convey her point. “Come here and show me.”

Seret is quiet, face blank. Lysandra wonders, belatedly, if she does in fact have unknown boundaries.

When Seret desperately searches her eyes for consent, Lysandra realizes it was shock and not disgust that rendered her speechless. “You mean—” Seret asks, hoarse, never breaking eye contact. Lysandra shivers. She had that effect on her?

“Yes.”

They stare at each other for a long, silent moment, Seret’s hungry gaze fixed on Lysandra’s pale shoulders, the towel wrapped around her middle. Then they’re both moving at once, mouths moving in the same pattern of Seret’s melody, a symphony of hearts beating in time.

If Lysandra is Seret’s world, Seret is the center of Lysandra’s.

***

At long last, Lysandra’s family gets wind of Seret. Lysandra doesn’t want to know how. Maybe Wynn and Petrus spread it around by accident—she loves those boys, but they couldn’t keep a secret if they tried. Maybe it was Arlin, who Lysandra finally let meet Seret.

All she does know is that her family is demanding to meet their middle princess’s lover, which means they’ll clarify if they’re allowed to be together or not.

“I’m sorry,” Lysandra whimpers, on the edge of tears in Seret’s arms. “I don’t want them to touch us with a ten foot stick, but if we don’t go, they’ll send someone out here to find us and disrupt our world. I’m so sorry.” Something about her family interfering in her and Seret’s affairs makes Lysandra boil like nothing else.

“It’s okay, my princess,” Seret murmurs into her hair, cupping the back of her head, rocking them back and forth. “We’ll go, I’ll tell them what they want to know, we’ll come right back here. It will only be a few hours. Their opinion won’t change how I feel about you, but I’ll do whatever you feel is best.” The sorrow in Seret’s tone implies too much.

Lysandra pulls back. “Don’t you ever think I’d leave you for my family. Right now, I’m thinking much the opposite.”

Seret purses her lips. “What objection would they have to me? The whole valley seems to like me, why wouldn’t they?”

“You’re not a noble, you don’t have a title, you have nothing to offer them, you won’t even tell anyone where you’re from, and you’re the lover of their middle child.”

Her voice is bitter, matching her heart. Seret’s arms tighten protectively around her. Lysandra switches from bitterness to anger to guilt in a second. How dare her family do this to them? What makes them think they have this right?

They control Vashiri Valley, but Lysandra can’t remember the last time they appeared in public, and their power is distant at best.

They control Vashiri Valley, but they can’t control her.

“No matter what they say,” Lysandra says into Seret’s chest, “I am never leaving you. You’ll have to pry me away. Whatever polite, diplomatic accusations or insults they throw at you, ignore them. You don’t have to tell anyone, especially them, about yourself. You’re with me because I love you, and that’s all we care about. Okay?”

“I’m not sure I’m the one who needs reassuring, Lysandra.”

“Shut up. I’ll be fine.” She pulls back from warmth to wipe her eyes, hot shame from crying coating her face, but Seret pulls her back in.

“There’s no shame here,” she whispers, kissing Lysandra’s temple. “Comforting you is my pleasure, though I wish you didn’t have a reason to cry. Everything’s going to be okay, my princess.”

Lysandra breathes.

She wears the gown she wore when she and Seret met, soft pink with a low neckline, tiered ruffles reaching down to her ankles, frilly short sleeves. Maybe familiarity will give her some comfort, whether that’s Seret’s hand on her thigh or this dress pinching her arm.

Seret wears the same black slacks, white shirt, and black jacket she always wears, thoroughly combs her hair, but leaves the hat at home.

At the dinner, she is perfect. she speaks only when spoken to, sits with that straight, enviable posture, praises the food like it’s the substance of heaven itself, the best she’s ever had.

She’s gracious, thankful, answers every question they ask. If she had a title, Lysandra knows her family would be simply begging them to marry.

Things start out pleasant, her family treating Seret with the polite, arm’s length attitude Lysandra expected. Finally, the dreaded question comes.

“So, Seret,” Lysandra’s mother asks, folding her hands, “where are you from?”

Lysandra clutches her necklace, the one Seret gave her, and prays. Please don’t let them be the first ones you tell. They don’t deserve that.

Seret smiles. “This soup is delicious, Your Majesty.”

“Yes, thank you, you’ve said so already.” Her mother is reaching the end of her patience—Lysandra has been on the other end of that short patience dozens of times. Her blue feathered hat and perfect red lips cover up a much nastier woman. “Please tell us about where you live.”

“Well, Lysandra and I have been living next to the forest all summer. The fields there are positively peaceful, you should visit them sometime.” She pauses to let horror sink into the hearts of luxury groomed royals. Lysandra bites down on a smile. “But I am technically still renting an apartment in the city.”

“Where you came from,” Lysandra’s father adds, sharp, on the end of his patience as well. Lysandra wonders how much Seret prepared for this. Seret is smart, she must’ve known she couldn’t wiggle her way out of the question with her usual tricks. “Maybe who your parents are.”

Seret appears to consider the question. “I’d rather not say,” she says, stirring her drink with her spoon. Silence falls onto the room. Lysandra holds her breath.

Her mother nods her head tightly. “Very well. In that case, we’re going to have to insist you stop seeing our daughter.”

Seret bows her head in humble acceptance, but Lysandra stands up, every fiber of her being filling with inexplicable rage. She told herself she wouldn’t display a reaction, she would just accept the denial and then ignore it, like Seret will, but hearing it so frankly from her mother’s lips is different from imagining it.

“You don’t have the right to tell me who I can and can’t see just because you feel like it,” she spits. “I’m an adult. I haven’t lived here full time or done the duties you ask of me for years. You should disown me. Save yourselves the trouble of dealing with me any longer.”

Seret’s hand lands firmly on her knee as if to say no, don’t. Lysandra captures her hand and holds it above the table for the whole family to see.

“You’re the one who chose to come here,” Lysandra’s mother says.

“Yes, because I knew you’d hound us if we didn’t.” Lysandra can feel her chest being ripped open from the top down. Seret’s fingers squeezing hers is the only thing tethering her to herself. She pulls tightly on Seret’s fingers, who takes the hint and stands. They walk out without another word, without a glance back.

When they get back to the cabin, Lysandra sinks onto the couch in their living room face first, and immediately begins to cry. The seconds it takes for the door to click and Seret’s boots to march across the wood are far too long, until warm arms wrap around Lysandra’s back and Seret buries her nose in the back of her hair. “I’m so sorry,” she murmurs, which only makes Lysandra sob harder.

“I don’t know why it still matters. I knew this was exactly what they’d say. I didn’t want it to affect me. I want to move on from them.”

Seret stays quiet, just letting Lysandra exist and holding her through it. They don’t speak about it again.

Things are different after that. The fields and the cabin have been tainted with mere mention of the royal family’s presence. The spell has been broken.

The wind comes less, the sun seems to burn in a way it didn’t before. Lysandra doesn’t treasure dawn and dusk the way she used to, and baths are just baths. The only thing that hasn’t lost its magic is Seret, as kind and loving as always.

A week later, Seret begins taking trips into the city to gather everything from her apartment and bring it to the cabin, everything of Lysandra’s from Wynn’s cottage.

No matter how many times Lysandra offers to help, Seret insists she’s fine, she doesn’t want Lysandra to come into the city and get hounded and harassed by the usual people dying to meet the princess.

Arlin and the others come to visit a few times to keep her company while Seret’s gone, to speak about the upcoming Academy year, their last year, to learn the place Lysandra disappeared to the entire summer.

She’s happy to see them, happy for the company, but her heart never stops aching for Seret, wondering what she’s doing. Arlin and the boys stay for dinner well after Seret’s back, so she’s never given a moment alone to think.

This continues for a month.

Arlin and the boys become as intimately familiar with the cabin, the fields, the river, and the forest as Lysandra was with Wynn’s cottage on the forest’s other side.

Lysandra flies toward the end of summer in a haze, perpetually afraid to break the peace, shatter the dream, feel the cold seep into her bones once more. She has grown so used to the wind in her hair, the sun on her skin, the safety of Seret’s arms and her soothing voice.

Seret is never too loud, never jarring. Seret seems to float on the wind; sometimes her mind is lost to Lysandra as she stares into the sky at nothing.

Seret is—

Seret is many things. Nothing at all. Everything all at once.

Ineffable.

On what Seret says will be her last day of moving, she kisses Lysandra’s cheek and says, “I’ll be back,” like always. Lysandra thinks that’s rather silly—of course she’ll be back, that’s a given—but it’s sweet.

Arlin and the boys won’t be over since they have to collect their books for school in two weeks and otherwise prepare. Lysandra spends the day in the river, letting the water suck all the thoughts from her head.

By the evening, as Lysandra waits on the porch with dinner ready, Seret is still not back.

She probably got held up with the loading carts she’s been using, Lysandra tells herself as she gathers her shawl, puts on a dress fit for the town’s eyes, and begins the long walk there. She stopped to have dinner, or something. Maybe she met Wynn’s dragonlings at last.

Seret would’ve run back here herself to tell Lysandra she wouldn’t be back until later because of the dragonlings, or she would’ve sent a magical letter, or something. Seret has told her over and over how much she hates to see Lysandra in pain, and how she’ll never, ever be the cause of even the slightest worry.

Dread sits heavily in Lysandra’s chest.

The area near the school is in chaos, looking for her. No one she meets will tell her what’s going on, why they refuse to meet her eyes, why they offer faint smiles in place of explanations.

When Lysandra is shown the rooms in the Academy Seret broke into, the bizarre circles drawn on the floor in chalk, the thick books lying open, the blood splattered all over the floor, and finally, Seret’s body lying on the floor with her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes closed, Lysandra falls to her knees and doesn’t get up.

Her entire being is shattered with a force she didn’t know existed, with waves of invisible pain too strong for this realm. Everything feels empty and quiet, but not quiet in the serene way of Seret’s.

She screams, and it rips her open. It rips every part of good out of her and replaces her with numb, muffled, faint feeling. Later the waves of pain will come back, the longing for Seret’s warm arms to wrap around her and make everything all better, but now, she’s able to look at the body with only thin trails of tears streaming down her face.

Seret’s white shirt is soaked through with a circle of bright red blood. The whole scene is almost unreal. If not for the blood and the cold feel of her hand, Lysandra’s Seret Ashling looks the same. Her hair is neatly arranged, her face free of the splattered blood.

Death is too simple a word for what happens to Seret.

She is gone, says a voice, Seret’s voice, her smiling face haunting Lysandra behind her closed eyes. The ghost of Seret’s fingers cup her jaw, stroke her cheekbones, brush soft lips over her forehead, push her spectacles up.

I love you, my princess, Lysandra hears when she touches her ear to the floor, soaking the front of her dress with her blood, such a cruel reminder of Seret’s humanity. She was brutally, unfortunately, unbelievably human. She may have reached beyond this realm to grab a fist of love for Lysandra, a greater capacity than any human could hold, but that couldn’t save her from her own humanity.

I’ll be back. Seret’s last words to her.

She wasn’t just going into town to move.

Lysandra clutches the necklace Seret gave her and squeezes until it hurts. It fits easily in her palm, hangs right over her heart. The death of Seret Ashling is going to hit Vashiri Valley like the rare storms, unforgiving and violent, bringing destruction that takes years to recover from.

Lysandra squeezes the necklace, closes her eyes, and breathes slowly, steadily. The storm will wipe her out faster and harder than anyone else, but she’s the one who has to control it singlehandedly, and that will be about as easy as trying to capture an actual storm from the ground.

She won’t survive this, but she’s known for months that if anything ever happened to Seret, she never would. She can only submit to the darkness—the bad kind, this time—awaiting her, return to reality behind this door.

[cinnamonrusts]

heart’s true destiny -- 1

[axel x reader - orig. posted on my ao3]

✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.*

The night sky always was your favorite. You would sit on at your windowsill and watch as the smoke from the chimneys of homes around you wafted up to the stars.  Radiant Garden slept peacefully as you were kept awake by the sounds of yelling that screeched from below your floorboards. It was a nightly routine for your parents, they would bark at each other over something trivial before they would quiet down for the night. You tried your best to ignore it but it was getting harder and harder to, tonight was no exception. So, you decided you had enough, your chest huffed a sigh and you pushed the window upward with a single motion.

You sought solace in friends, but one friend brought you a sort of comfort that you couldn't exactly explain. It was a fellow schoolmate with red hair that matched his fiery personality. He was a tall and lanky boy, his raging locks stuck out in spikes from his head and his emerald like eyes shined from his light skin. This schoolmate turned friend was named Lea. You didn't know much about him at first, but he was universally liked by everyone on the school and was notorious for having quite the loud mouth. Attached to his hip was his indigo haired friend, Isa, who's personality could be comparable to your own. Soon, the two them would become your dearest pals.

 You met when Lea's frisbee collided with the back of your head.

Your legs dangled over the edge of the park table that you were sat on. The back of your shoes kicked the wooden bench and your attention was buried to the book that was in your lap. Suddenly, a hard item smacked you in the back of the head, the book tumbled from your lap as you stood up in frustration. At your feet was what looked like a frisbee decorated with a flame that had a menacing looking expression. "Who threw this?!" you yelled as you bent over to pick it up. "Oh, man!" you heard a voice and the shake of the chain-linked fence that was behind you. It was that red headed guy from school. He stuck a foot in a link and hoisted himself up and over it, then landed on his feet before he approached you. "I'm sorry!" he took the disk from your hand and smiled sheepishly with an awkward head rub.

"It's alright," you forgave him and your [e/c] orbs connected with his emerald ones. A silence hovered in the air above as the two of you searched for words to say but nothing seemed to come to light. "Hey, you're, [Y/N]." he finally spoke. "Yeah, and you're ---," you struggled to remember his name, "Lea! Got it memorized?" he finished. "Sure," you answered. "You okay, though?" he asked as he pushed himself onto his toes to try to see the back of your head. You rubbed the spot where it smacked you and nodded, "Yeah, you just got a heck of a throw." Lea felt awkward again and rubbed his head once more, "Sorry, again, heh." A quiet laugh giggled in your throat, "Well, when I'm finished studying. You'll have to let me beat you."

Lea grinned, "Who wants to study, when you could just be having fun!" The teen had seen his fair share of F's on his tests. You insisted that you needed to finish what you were doing to his disappointment. "Well, [Y/N]. I'll be waiting for you!" you nodded with a smile. He held his palm up in the air, "Friends?" you raised yours to meet his high-five, "Friends."

You leaped from your bedroom window and landed on the cobblestone street below. Your feet carried you to the same location that you went when you needed an escape from the "family" that you lived with. It wasn't far, just about a few streets away and up over a stone wall.

Once you reached the barrier, you pulled yourself up, sat on top, and peered down to the window of the home that was below. When you jumped down and approached the glass, you could see Lea inside who was fast asleep; his limbs were sprawled across his bed and his mouth was wide open as he snored. You knocked quietly on the glass to wake him up but his snoring was so loud that he couldn't hear it. So, you tried again but a little louder this time. The sound of glass rattled loudly through the empty alley behind you but if you did it any louder, it would most certainly wake his parents up. "Leaaaa..." you whispered with another knock but he simply rolled onto his side, still asleep. Your last option was to just open the window and slither inside. It was unlocked and you slowly pushed it up but when you tried to slip in - you tumbled down onto his carpeted floor.

Slowly you peeled the covers back and slid inside his bed beside him. Your hand rested on the back of his bicep which startled him awake, when he called out you hushed him quietly. "[Y/N]?!" he asked in a whisper. He had his back turned toward you and his feet kicked around until they met yours, "Hush, yes it's me." Once he heard your voice he calmed down, "What're you doing here?" his whisper was now lower than before and he flipped on his other side to face you. Your first response was a shrug but eventually you gave in, "I just needed some fresh air." you didn't need to go on anymore, Lea already knew about all your issues at home. He let you know that his home was also yours, and that he would always be there for his friends. Lea was silent for a moment as he studied your face in the dark, "I'm sorry." as he frowned, his hand took the blanket that was bundled at his waist and pulled it over the two of you. Your cheeks warmed at his tenderness and you hoped that the darkness would hide the pink in your cheeks -- you could only imagine what he would say if he could see it.

 Your heart beat quickened when you could feel Lea's heat on your skin but your a blooming warmth blossomed in the pit of your stomach. This sensation trickled upward to your increased beating heart. You liked him, you really, really did. It wasn't just a, "oh - he's my friend", no, it was more of a, "I think I love him".

Lea's foot tapped yours as your blossomed feelings made you grow quiet. "D-Do you want to get some sea salt ice cream tomorrow after school? Maybe go to the fountain park after?" you asked impulsively. The feeling of his skin on yours and your realization triggered you to ask him on a date. Sea Salt Ice Cream was a normal part of your diet but it was your trio that would indulge in the cold delicacy, but this time you wanted it to just but you and Lea. "I'll tell Is-," you cut him off with a finger to your lips, "Just me and you." your finger remained on your lips and you could feel your palms grow clammy. His expression was hard to read for a moment before he smiled, "It's a date." After an unknown amount of time, the two of you drifted off to sleep...

 "Lea! You're going to be late!" the sound of his mother's voice yelled from behind his bedroom door. The knocks woke you up with a jolt, you quickly shook him awake and he nearly flipped off the side of his bed. "Hang on, mom!" he yelled back which gave you time to scatter to the window. "I'll see you at school," you whispered before going out the window.

 Later on at school...

"Are you two finally going on a date?" a tall, slender brunette asked as she walked beside you in sync on the way to math class. "Do you really think it's considered a date, Aerith?" She nodded quickly, "Of course! It's just going to be the two of you, alone...tonight," she paused as the two of you reached the doorway into the classroom, "Speaking of which, look who's over there." she pointed toward Lea and Isa who were further down the hall, they were leaned on the wall and seemed to be invested in whatever they were talking about. A blush surfaced to your cheeks as you made eye contact with your date, he smiled and waved when he noticed you; Isa turned around and gave you a nod in acknowledgment.

Once you disappeared into the classroom, Isa turned his attention back to Lea. "So, are we finally going to break in tonight?" Lea grinned and hit his chest with the side of his fist, "For sure!" His attention drifted off as he imagined all the cool things that the mysterious castle just outside of the city held, but then he remembered your date. "Oh, man!" he ran his fingers through his hair, "I got a thing with [Y/N] tonight!" Isa scoffed as he folded his arms, "You two are dating?" Lea shook his head, "No! It's just -- going out for ice cream." he insisted with a shake in his voice. The indigo haired boy shook his head, "Date or not, we've been planning this for weeks, Lea. You can't dump me now."

Lea groaned and rolled his head around, "Fine!" he didn't want to pass up on this chance, "I will help you break in but only for 30 minutes and then I'm out!" he shoved his hands in his pockets and then took off toward his class, but before going to far, he turned around, "I have to meet [Y/N]."

Later on in the day the two boys met in the center of town to discuss their plans of breaking into the castle. They wouldn't let the black haired ponytail man get them again...

 But as the boys prepped, you got ready for your night with Lea. You brushed your hair in the mirror and happy thoughts danced through your mind as you imagined the events that would unfold. Would the two of you kiss? Would he maybe ask you to be his girlfriend? All the possibilities! Once you finished your hair, you pulled a sundress over your body and slipped on a pair of shoes. You gave yourself a once over in the mirror and practiced kissing faces to make sure you were prepared for anything. Anything!

Your feet carried you toward your destination, you nearly skipped to Scrooge McDuck's shop where he sold the sweet treat. A white duckling greeted you when you arrived, "Two, please!" When he handed you the blue treats, he asked, "No Lea and Isa?" Your head shook as you batted your lashes, "I'll be meeting Lea over by the fountains in a bit!" a smile spread as you grew more and more excited. You took a seat at a fountain when you arrived, your feet kicked in the air as you looked around to try and spot a mane of red hair. Time began to pass --- and the 30 minutes that Lea insisted he would be inside the castle for had gone and passed.

The once frozen treat turned into a sticky puddle beneath your shoes and traces of the blue coloring stained the skin on your right hand. Your ice cream was eaten about 15 minutes into your waiting and you tried to save Lea's but when too much time went by, you tossed it onto the ground. The sun was now just barely over the horizon and the town clocks chimed their nightly tunes, it was too late to stay out now. You started to walk home and your head hung in sadness as you felt betrayed. Lea ditched you. Maybe he really didn't like you or was off with Isa in that stupid castle instead... Your heart hurt and you were confused.

  Days turned into weeks and no one in Radiant Garden had heard nor seen the two teenage boys. You asked their families if they had gone off somewhere but they had no answers because they themselves were unsure. The two closest people in your life literally disappeared into thin air without a sign -- what happened to them?

During this time, a depression shrouded over you -- your body felt like a vessel for a weak soul. Your heart hurt and felt smaller as each day passed without Lea and Isa. "Are you okay?" Aerith's voice called out over the rush of the many fountains. "Hmm?" you turned your head to her, "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." your response was not reassuring and your slight shoulder shrug was not either. You knew that Aerith would go through her list of questions that she seemed to have drafted since the two teens disappeared, she asked because she cared but you weren't in the mood to give your recycled answers. "I'm going to go home," you said as you bent over to pick up your bookbag. "Be careful, [Y/N]! I'll see you tomorrow!" she waved goodbye and you assured her that you would see her then. Aerith's kindness made you feel better for the time being and that warm feeling carried with you until an overwhelming sensation of being watched overshadowed it.

You stopped walking and raised your line of sight to meet the top of the roof of a home in front of you. Your eyes squinted as you made out what looked like a cloaked person standing next to the large chimney; their hood was pulled up to disguise their face and they were draped in completely in black. They must had noticed you saw them because not long after you stopped walking, they turned around and jumped off the opposite side. "A -- person?" you asked, confused.

 "How long are you going to keep watching her like a creep?" an identically dressed person asked the one who had been watching you from the roof. "I'm not a creep! And anyway, what does it matter to you?" your stalker snapped. The other cloaked person shook their head and placed a hand on their hip, "Well, the boss isn't going to be happy to hear that you're spending time stalking and not working."

Your stalker snapped again, "We're off the clock, idiot." they rounded the wall of the building they previously were standing on. With their back pressed against the stone, they peeked around the corner to see if you were still looking for them. A sigh of relief blew from between their lips when they saw you were now gone. "Just hurry up and get it over with, I wanna go home." the other cloaked person groaned before walking away through a dark portal they summoned with a swipe of a hand. "I'm just not ready yet..." your stalker whispered as they stared at where you not long before.

 The thought of someone watching you was on your mind the rest of the way home. Who was it? Why were they watching you? How long were they watching you? It made you feel uneasy and once you got to your room, you went to the window and looked outside - hoping to maybe catch another glimpse of them. This fear of a stalker added to your troublesome list of anxieties. You were sad and angry that Lea left, but now you were scared about whoever it was that was watching you.

So many unanswered questions. With little hope of any solutions.

[nsheetee]

Hii! ♡ Could you do a CEO!Jaehyun x reader where they have been married for a few years but the media doesn't know that (because she doesn't like being a center of attention and she's super introvert), and ranks him as "One of the Most Wanted Men", and there's a shock to everyone when they find out he's married?

a/n: hi anon, of course I can! love me some CEO!Jaehyun :’)

Part 1 || Part 2 

Warnings/Details: lots of fluff, slight angst, some kissing

marrying jung jaehyun was the best decision you’ve made in your whole life

you met him while you were waitressing at a restaurant

it was one of those 5 star dining places that was in the heart of downtown, had a waiting list five months long, and a valet out front

you were serving his table, which was filled with him and men who looked like they could all be in Forbes’ 400 list

in fact, you recognized him from the cover of several magazines you always pass by on your way to work, claiming him to be “One of the Most Wanted Men”

so when you saw him sitting before you, he definitely caught your eye

he looked like if he got a paper cut, he would bleed money

he wore a navy suit with gold accessories and a diamond gaze that stared you down and didn’t leave you all night (much to your surprise)

you about had a heart attack when you were fixing up the table after his party left and found a five thousand dollar tip along with jaehyun’s name and phone number

you originally agreed to meet up with him to give the money back

you got generous amounts in tips all the time, but five thousand dollars was too much for you

when you arrived at the address he gave you, you were surprised to find it was a diner on a little street in midtown that served breakfast food all day long

when you walked in, the bell above the door jingled but jaehyun could’ve sworn he heard church bells ringing instead

he was absolutely enamored by you 

never one to believe at love at first sight, his beliefs were squabbled by one look at you

and as you approached him dressed in a mocha colored dress and your hair in loose braids, he felt himself gulp and his hands become sweaty

he didn’t even get this nervous when handling millions of dollars at a time

you, on the other hand, were surprised when you saw him

he was wearing a sweater and black jeans with silver rings on his fingers and glasses perched on his nose

you felt a bit guilty that you judged him so quickly

he didn’t look rich and snobby, as your first impression of him made you think

he looked cozy and homey

this jaehyun looked like if he were to get a paper cut, he would bleed warmth and love

maybe that’s why you decided to sit down across from him and share a stack of chocolate chip waffles with him that late afternoon

(you both decided to leave the five thousand dollars as a tip to the nice, old waitress that was serving you- she kept calling you “honey” and gave you extra waffles for free)

you agreed to date jaehyun and started learning about who he really is

how he’s more than just the one dimensional figure the media makes him out to be

you felt comfortable and domestic with jaehyun

but it took you a long time to trust him

once you did, jaehyun dropped to one knee and promised you himself for the rest of his life

and you knew- still know now- that he meant it 

during the three years you’ve been married so far, you learned a lot about  the media and how to stay out of their sights

it wasn’t that you didn’t want your relationship with jaehyun to be known to the whole world

you just didn’t feel 100% comfortable with having your name and face plastered for everyone to see

for jaehyun, who has been the face of his company and in the media for almost his whole life, this was confusing

it even caused some arguments to arise early in your relationship

but over time, jaehyun learned to understand and respect this introverted side of you

it’s now another characteristic about you that he loves

it’s part of what makes you you

the years you spent married to jaehyun were the happiest years of your life so far

he treated you fairly, respected your decisions, and when he confessed one night of how much you’ve taught him in your short few years together, you’ve never felt closer to another human being in your whole life

jung jaehyun was a blessing in disguise that people could only pray and wish for

but things were about to get a little bumpy

jaehyun had told you that morning he would be in his office late that night, a weekly occurrence that you’ve grown used to

but when you got a call from jaehyun’s private phone, his gravelly voice begging for you to come and give him company in his lonely office

how could you say no?

the chauffeur drove you to jaehyun’s company building and you stepped out of the car with a coat on, a scarf covering your mouth and your hood up

the ride up to the top floor was silent and walking through the top floor of the building was a bit creepy this late at night, not even jaehyun’s secretary was at his desk

you knock on the slightly ajar door as a smile crosses your lips

“mr. jung, you’ve got a visitor.” 

jaehyun looks up from his papers, confusion morphing into happiness when he realizes it’s just you

his office is dark except for the desk lamp that sits in the corner of his table and the whole wall made of windows behind him, overlooking the downtown portion of the city below

you round the desk and jaehyun’s smile deepens as you approach him

you grip his hands and force him to stand up

“you need to stretch, jae. you’re gonna be one of those hunched-over old men when you’re older.” you tease and he laughs as his long arms stretch over his head and to the ceiling

you reach out and rub his belly, making him laugh some more and bring his hands down and around you to pull you closer

you encircle his waist with your arms, settling your face into his chest and breathing deeply

“I missed you so much” jaehyun mumbles into your hair

“you saw me this morning” you retaliate

“for ten minutes. that’s not enough for me.” he whines and you lean away to look up at him

even though you’ve been together for years, jaehyun has aged gracefully 

he still looks as amazing as he did when you first saw him

your favorite feature of his has to be his hair, it’s silky properties too tempting to not run your hands through

so you do just that, and jaehyun practically purrs at your affection

in his blissful state, he leans in to sweetly kiss your lips

he removes your scarf and helps take off your coat somewhere between the kisses

his lips eventually travel down to the skin at your neck and shoulder

it’s innocent

he just wants to feel you

he misses the way your skin feels under his lips and the way your smell invades his senses

it’s still intoxicating to him and he absolutely loves it

he leans away after his slow and loving kisses, giving you a lazy smile and sitting back down in his seat, pulling you on top of him

“aren’t you supposed to be doing your work, mr. jung?” you ask as jaehyun holds you, stroking your thigh and looking out at the city through the wall of windows

“I have a guest, that would be rude.” he teases

your left hand catches his eye and he reaches out to gently grab it

your wedding ring sits nicely around your finger, the diamond on it still gleaming in the dim room with the engagement band sitting under it cozily

it’s been years, but jaehyun can’t believe that he got to put both of these rings onto your finger

his concentration is broken by a ding from his phone

it makes him jump and he turns both of you around in his chair

he reaches for his phone and opens up the message from his PR agent as you lean your head against the top of his

the peacefulness and quit atmosphere is broken when you see the contents of the text

it’s a blurry picture of you from just a few moments ago

you’re walking into the company building, your hood up and your scarf covering your face

but the ring on your left hand is painfully visible, practically glowing as you raise your hand up to keep the scarf to your mouth

the next picture is of you and jaehyun

kissing

through the windows of his office

you can tell it’s you by the coat and the scarf

and the diamond on your finger that still shines brightly

“oh my god” a hand covers your mouth when you read the rest of the message from jaehyun’s PR agent

the pictures were released to a celebrity news company and are being spread on the internet right now

jaehyun pushes you off him and strides to the curtains for the wall of windows

he furiously shuts them, the room turning darker with the absence of the city lights

jaehyun leans his hands over his head against the curtains, head bowed down and his shoulders rising and falling deeply

“jaehyun…” you try to call out to him but he doesn’t move 

so you take a moment to digest what just happened

those pictures are circling around, but maybe people would stay confused long enough for jaehyun’s PR agents to think up of an excuse?

you still can’t help but feel unsettled by how your privacy was ripped away from you so suddenly and fiercely

“I’m sorry” jaehyun finally speaks up and turns around

his eyes are bloodshot and he looks completely different from how he did five minutes ago

“I shouldn’t have asked you to come here, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“jaehyun, no.” you try to say but he shakes his head

you approach him, taking hold of his hands that have fallen limp at his sides

“don’t blame yourself. I should’ve been more careful.” your try to console him, but you can tell it’s not helping. “it was about time people found out…” you trail off in a sigh

you kept your marriage a secret with jaehyun for several years

maybe you were too hopeful– too lucky to think that you could continue to be a secret part of jaehyun’s life

“I’m sorry it had to happen this way.” jaehyun hopes and prays you’ll forgive him

you say it’s okay, but the tension in your face and the slight panic that’s starting to reach your eyes makes him more anxious and worried

he’s lost so many things in his life due to the media: past girlfriends, business deals, friends, and even family…

he can’t loose you too

“let’s go home.” he says but you don’t budge

“is it…safe?” you ask

jaehyun has been surrounded by paparazzi for several years, he rarely gets nervous or frustrated with the camera flashes or the close proximity

but you’ve never had to deal with that before

you still get camera shy when jaehyun tries to take a picture of you

and just the thought of the worst case scenario happening makes jaehyun’s stomach churn and a cold sweat break out in his palms

“well, we can’t stay here…”

but when you roll your lips between your teeth and look up at him, scared and unprepared

jaehyun can’t force you to face the media now

not this suddenly and definitely not when rumors are surely going around about you

this is how you end up turning the couch in jaehyun’s office into your bed for tonight

your shoes on the ground next to you, your accessories on the coffee table, and jaehyun’s suit jacket as a makeshift blanket for you both

the couch is expensive and pretty big, but tough on your back

you’re surprised that you can fall asleep

but jaehyun lays beside you, sleep not coming as easily for him

he watches you slumber, guilt and a touch of fear pooling in his chest as he thinks about the new situation you’ve gotten yourselves into

years ago, you let yourself trust him enough to promise to stay with him for the rest of your life

jaehyun has never broken a promise, he’s made sure the trust you put into him is justified 

it scares him every time fate sends an opportunity to show an act of trust his way

will you make it out with your relationship in tact this time?

before he can continue his thoughts, you shuffle in your spot next to him and crack an eye open to see that he’s still awake

“jaehyun…” you mumble, “sleep. it’ll be okay.” you mumble some more

before you can fall back into your dreams, your hand blindly reaches out to meet with jaehyun’s

you intertwine your fingers and lay your hands over your stomach, the slow rise and fall enough to calm jaehyun, even if it’s only temporarily

he rests his head against yours, nose in your hair and his heart beat against your back

yes, you’ve gone through so much in your relatively short time together

and you’ll pull through this as a couple stronger than before

everything will be okay

[honeypwark]

[ On The Roof ]

  ↳ No More Dream era

       ↳ Yeosu and Yoongi drink on the roof. She talks about space. She opens up about her past.

m.list

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

When Yoongi approached Yeosu and asked her if she wanted to drink with him, she was confused. Despite being the same age, the two weren’t very close. Yes, they were friends (now that Yoongi got over not wanting her to join the group) but they’d never spent much time just the two of them outside of the group. Nevertheless, Yeosu agreed.

So that is where the two ‘93 liners are now. They’re not drunk but with a six pack of beer split evenly between them, they’ve got enough alcohol in their systems to speak more freely than they normally would.

Yeosu sets her third and final beer can down off to the side of the blanket she and Yoongi sit on. The part of Seoul where their dorm is located isn’t very busy at this time of night, but the far off sounds of the parts of the city that never sleep reach them where they are on the roof of their apartment building. Yoongi grabs Yeosu’s now empty can, twisting and crushing it down in a typical boyish manner.

Yeosu giggles, “Why do boys do that?”

“Why do girls go to the bathroom together?” he counters.

“Because it’s safer in numbers. You won’t be assaulted if you’re with someone else.”

Yoongi blinks, “Oh.”

“What’s your excuse?”

Yoongi looks down at the crushed can in his hands, “I just find it fun.”

Yeosu laughs at that and Yoongi joins her, the momentary solemn mood lifting. Yeosu lays back on the blanket. She looks up, eyes scanning the heavens.

“What are you looking at?” Yoongi asks, following her gaze upwards.

“The sky.”

“There are no stars.”

He’s right; the sky is starless due to light pollution. The moon continues to shine warmly down at her.

“No, but it’s interesting to look at.”

Yoongi looks down at her for a moment before laying down as well. They lay in opposite directions, heads beside one another.

“Have you ever really thought about it?” Yeosu asks.

“About what?”

“Space.”

“Kind of.”

“Like, it’s so big. It’s literally the biggest thing in the universe. In any universe. It doesn’t end it just goes on and on and on into infinity and never stops. It’s so unimaginably huge that humans can’t even begin to comprehend it’s size.”

Yoongi turns his head and looks at Yeosu. Her eyes remain looking upward.

“Lights of the city block out the stars but they’re still there, millions, billions, trillions of miles away. We can’t count the stars in the sky and there’s even more that are too far away to see. Space is almost entirely unexplored. There’s so much we don’t understand, so much we haven’t seen.”

She pauses and Yoongi takes a breath, “It’s kind of scary to think about.”

“That’s humanity’s biggest fear.”

“What is?”

Yeosu turns her head to look at Yoongi, “Fear of the unknown.”

Yoongi’s slightly buzzed mind isn’t quite ready to understand Yeosu’s introspective thoughts. He keeps eye contact with her a moment more before looking back up. After a short while, Yeosu looks back up as well. Regardless of his ability to comprehend what Yeosu has said, the idea of fear of the unknown sits in his mind.

“Are your parents supportive?” Yoongi asks her.

Yeosu doesn’t say anything, which is answer enough,

“Yeah, mine neither,” he says. “Money’s always been tight and having some son that wants to run off to Seoul and pursue music doesn’t exactly help. It could always go wrong. I know they love me but, like you said, they fear the unknown. I’ve always loved making music, though. I originally joined BigHit to be a producer.”

“You did? I didn’t know that about you,” Yeosu says.

“Yeah. But here I am. A week after debuting as an idol. This could end really good or really bad.”

“We’re all depending on it to be the first one.”

“Yeah. Hopefully, that’s what it will be.”

“Hopefully.”

They’re quiet for a few minutes, far off sounds of the city keeping them from laying in silence. Yoongi notices that the longer he looks up into the void of space above him, the more colors he can see among the predominant shade of deep navy blue. Hints of purple and pink mix in dark hues with the navy and black, just barely evading the spectrum of noticeability.

“My mom disowned me when I joined the company.”

Yoongi feels a lump rise in his throat, unsure of how to respond.

“She’s always been controlling. First with rhythmic gymnastics then with school. I always had to be the best and I never was but I tried my hardest. I wanted her to be proud of me but for her, my best wasn’t good enough. She sent me out here to go to high school and to train with a better coach and be closer to bigger competitions.

“I didn’t get a choice where I went to university. She was so mad when I chose education at my major. Told me I had to change it by second year. She wanted me to go into business like her. Didn’t want me to end up like me dad.

“They never married even after having me and they eventually broke up. He’d visit as much as she’d let him. He’s a painter. Kind and sensitive. Caring and selfless. I idolized him growing up and my mom hated it. She thought that because he wasn’t rolling in money and luxury that he’d failed at life. But he was happy. He cared for me more than she ever did, even though he couldn’t raise me.

“He’d come to my competitions when mom couldn’t be bothered. I’d always loved performing. I liked singing and dancing. A few times my friends told me I should audition for an agency but I was scared of my mom finding out, so I never did. First term of university, I was at a friend’s apartment. He was playing his guitar and I was singing.

“We were just messing around but I guess I could be heard through the open window and suddenly someone’s knocking at the door and giving me a business card. After nineteen years, I was just... done. I couldn’t keep living a life I hated. So I dropped out of university and went all in on training to be an idol. I got a nasty phone call from my mom and she cut me off entirely. No allowance, not contact, nothing.

“I got a job at a little restaurant so I could support myself. About a year later, the whole thing with you guys happened. I blame my dad, really. We’re both too nice for our own good. I almost gave up debuting because you all looked so upset about the prospect of having me join. I just hoped my time would come later on and you all could debut happily. Guess it worked out, though.”

“Wait. What?”

Yeosu is surprised as Yoongi finally speaks up, “What?”

“You said no to joining BTS the first time because you wanted us to be happy?”

“Uh, yeah.“

“Holy shit! What?”

Yoongi sits up and Yeosu holds back a laugh as he looks as though he’s working through an earth shattering realization. She sits up as well.

“Did you really not pick up on that?” she asks.

“None of us did. I’m, like, reeling right now.”

Yeosu can’t help but laugh now, “Why do you think I was so quick to agree to join you when you all approached me? I wanted to debut but figured you all would be happier without me in your midst. When you all seemed willing to have me, that’s when I agreed.”

Yoongi looks at Yeosu with sudden seriousness, “You’re... truly selfless, you know that?”

Yeosu scoffs, “Please, that makes me sound like some kind of hero. I think I’m just pretty content and want other people to be happy, too.”

Yeosu stands and they clean up what they’d brought with them up to the roof. On the way down the stairs to their floor, Yeosu speaks up again.

“Tonight was nice,” she says.

“Yeah. I don’t know why I was so hesitant about you joining. You’re pretty cool.”

Yeosu can’t help but giggle at his weak attempt at a compliment, “Were you, perhaps, intimidated by me?”

“Yeah, right. I could rap circles around you.”

“And I could dance and sing circles around you. Bring it.”

They laugh and exit the stairwell, continuing down the hallway to their dorm. Yoongi pulls out his keys to unlock the door.

Before they enter, Yeosu says, “Seriously, though. Thanks for listening to my tragic backstory up there.”

Yoongi pushes the door open and sends her a smile over his shoulder, “What’s a selfless hero without a tragic backstory?”

[ch4o7ix]

Edaclark - Singapore night

oh hello there. i said i was gonna post my edaclark fic here, so here i am. originally it was in portuguese, and for this i just googled, used an app and also made some modifications, but i think it’s okay! If the fic has any grammar mistake, feel free to say it.

Enjoy! <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The cold night wind hit his face, his gaze distant, focused on the not-so-starry Singapore sky. Clark liked to be there at night, not only because of the pool he shared with beautiful ladies but also because of the beautiful view that the place affords him. Lowering his gaze, he could gradually see the illuminated city he loved so much. A smile formed on his face as he traced with his eyes the path he normally took during his runs. He really loved what he did, flying was wonderful but still ... the adrenaline he felt was not what he expected to feel.

Normally, the excitement of flying was not in the uncertainty of his victory, since it was guaranteed, but mainly in the fear of the plane falling in any way. And that was not a pleasant feeling to feel. He rested his head on his hands, a tired sigh coming out. He missed feeling the real thrill of a race, but the last time he tried to have a real competition it didn't end well.

Just thinking about the last race he had with Lewis made him feel guilty. He was not directly guilty of causing this accident, he knew very well who set up the veteran, but ... he still felt his chest tighten with the overwhelming sense of guilt. This feeling intensified when he remembered his newest mechanic, Edamura. Although he disguised it well, his look of disgust directed at the men who ruined his former employer's life was quite remarkable.

The young competitor, if he could really call himself that, just wanted to be able to have a real contest, without scripts, without frames. Sure, he loves his brother, but he couldn't deny that the methods he uses are, in addition to being harmful, dangerous. The prince was tired, tired of the guilt he carried, tired of his brother's "scripted entertainment", tired of this false emotion, tired of lying.

Clark takes one of his hands to his hair, pulling it back, letting out a long breath. Problems and guilt are not going to go away with that, but at least that little gesture calms the young man.

The man is startled to hear the sound of footsteps, accompanied by a relatively loud yawn. He turned around, hoping to find a guest coming to get some air or even the older Ibrahim. But he was surprised to find a well-known mechanic, Makoto Edamura, walking towards him with a small smile on his lips. He felt his heart skip a beat, smiling back at the Japanese.

— Good night, Clark! – he said, his lovely accent noticeable even with that simple sentence.

— Hi Edamura! – The older one smiled, watching the smaller one lean against the fence that prevented them from falling while looking at the sky with a frown. – What happened? Are you cold? – He asked, even though he knew that the white sweatshirt the other was wearing was probably warm enough.

— No, I just ... I imagined that the sky here would be more starry. When I talked to Cynthia she told me that the view from up here was so beautiful. – He sounded disappointed, turning to the one with the dark blue eyes as if silently asking: "Do you understand?", making him nod in understanding, looking away again at the sky.

— It's quite annoying that the city is so bright at night that we can't even see the stars in the sky. But still, it's a beautiful view, depending on where you look. – He lowered his vision, leading Makoto to follow his gaze to the illuminated city, a breathtaking sight. The mechanic's eyes shone and he smiled in awe at the view, the sounds of the city gradually synchronizing and forming a unique soundtrack for that moment, which was attentively watched by the younger Ibrahim, who felt his chest warm and the damn butterflies if they churn in your stomach.

Edamura's smile is beautiful. Clark would do anything to be able to see him smile like that more often and would do anything to be the reason for that smile. Since he talked to the man for the first time, the prince felt something for him. He didn't know how to name it, but he knew it was complex ... and good. When the brown eyes met him again, filled with enthusiasm and shining with the reflection of the Singapore lights, Clark felt his stomach turn seven times in clockwise and counterclockwise direction, causing some sickness in the older man. Sometimes the feeling was not so good.

— Do you come here a lot? You must come, I never got to see a city from above, and from here everything is so bright! It even makes me forget about the fear of heights, you know? – He looked back at the city, taking his cell phone out of his sweatshirt pocket to take a picture. The older one smiled silly, seeing his face concentrated to take a perfect picture.

— Yes, it is. – "but not as much as you", he wanted to say, however, kept the thought to himself. – But I thought you lived in Tokyo before, how have you never seen anything like it? – He asked, making Makoto turn his face to face him, lowering his cell phone slightly, beyond the glass fence. "Oh, oh, I already see where this is going," he thought, looking back into the man's chocolate eyes.

— I'm afraid of heights, so the most I've seen were in pictures. – he replied to the surprise of the Singaporean, who until then imagined that every Japanese would have seen the city from above at least once in his life, as cariocas would do with Christ the Redeemer.

— If you are afraid of heights, then don't worry, my little Edamura! – he dictated, placing his hand on his chest gloriously, before hugging the smaller one from behind, drawing a small exclamation followed by a laugh from him. – Your prince here will see to it that neither you nor your cell phone – he took the device from the other's hands, who were protesting with laughter. – fall from that deadly height! – Finally, Clark gave a kiss on the top of the mechanic's head, who stopped laughing, still surprised by the action of the bigger one.

Makoto turned in his embrace, raising his face with a frown, his cheeks so red it looked like he had even been slapped, not a hug. Clark felt his heart accelerate again, his mouth slightly open and his eyes locked on that beautiful face, in the eyes that he had so often compared with chocolate, in his slender nose, his lips forming that attractive pout, so inviting… His body moved involuntarily, and when he found himself, Clark was just inches away from kissing the brown-haired man, who was in shock in his embrace.

The proximity between them was sufficient for them to be breathing the same air, but still, neither of them dared to move for a good two minutes. Two minutes that lasted an eternity. An eternity that Clark was enjoying. He was enjoying feeling the synchrony between his breaths, his heart beating together with that of the Japanese, the looks they exchanged, and the fact that so far, the other has not retreated. That was good, right? Perhaps it was by surprise, but even after the time of the initial shock, he did not move.

The older man's unoccupied hand was placed on the other's back, a move that was enough to get Edamura out of the initial trance. He quickly emerged from the prince's embrace, whirling a little and then stopping some distance from him, showing a mocking smile and waving his cell phone over his head. Ibrahim was still processing the fact that the moment between the two ended when he realized that the device was no longer in his hands. When did he get it?

— I didn't know you were the type to steal, Edamura! – He laughed, one eyebrow raised while still trying to understand when the cell phone left his hands.

— It's that saying: thief who steals thief, has a thousand years of forgiveness! – He laughed, going to the pool area while unlocking the device, being followed by the pilot.

— I never heard that saying, but for me, if you rhyme, then I'll believe it. – he said, trying to get Makoto's cell phone again. This one, however, was faster, deviating fully while walking again, taking care not to get too close to the pool. – If a thief steals the thief who stole it, how many years of forgiveness would he gain?

— And you think you could steal me? – the brown-haired one asked in disbelief, crossing his arms and consequently hiding the cell phone from Clark's heavy hands, receiving only a smile from the other. – Okay, if a thief manages to steal the thief who stole it, I think he would have... Ten years of forgiveness!

— Only ten?! Why?

— Because that means the robbery was a success in the end. A thief was unable to steal, but the thief who was stolen in the beginning continued with the stolen item, so he remains guilty of theft. – He smiled victoriously as he faced the employer's expression of defeat, who only sighed in response to his hypothetical arrest.

Almost a second later, Clark surprised Makoto by jumping on him, but as usual, he swerved gracefully...

— Haha! I told you that you- –… to immediately take a step towards the edge of the pool. At that moment, Edamura could have sworn he saw his life passing like a short film before his eyes, one of the most striking phrases being that of Abby, calling him a virgin for the hundredth time.

Clark luckily held his hand, preventing the fall from occurring. Both smiled in relief before the betrayal occurred. Clark took the damn cell phone from the mechanic, who widened his eyes in disbelief at the older man's attitude. As soon as his objective was in his hands, a final evil smile was given towards his friend, before his hand dropped him to his icy death.

The sound of the fall was painful to hear, mainly because drops of cold water from the pool reached the prince, but in the end, he was still dry and had managed ten years of forgiveness.

— You are an asshole! – Makoto said as soon as he emerged, frowning and drenched, like a cat that ended up falling into the water unintentionally, which was not far from reality. – You are a bastard and an asshole!

— I am not the one in a pool, in the cold, and on top of clothes. – Ibrahim scoffed, placing the cell phone on one of the chairs that were nearby, to crouch in front of the angry Japanese. – But I can think of helping you with one condition! – he said with his index finger raised and a wide smile growing in his face. – For a kiss, I-

And again, the sound of a body submerging in the icy water was heard. Makoto gave a short and evil laugh with his revenge. Clark emerged quickly, already shivering with a frown instead of his usual smile.

— Ugly face for me is hunger. – Makoto said, resting his elbows on the edge of the pool as he watched the Singaporean dive and appear on his side, looking more comfortable with the temperature, although he still trembles slightly.

— Your luck is that it's not that cold today. – The pilot leaned on the edge of the pool sulking. – And you cursed me earlier, you cursed someone from royalty! – he exclaimed, almost convincing the minor that the offenses offended him, narrowly failing due to his exaggerated facial expression.

— Well, maybe I can think of helping you. – the scammer said, joining in the game and imitating the mocking air that the prince had taken when he offered him help. – For a kiss, maybe I can forgive you, how about? – He asked with a raised eyebrow.

Even though Clark knew it was a joke, he couldn't help the uncontrollable urge to try and get that forgiveness. And it was a stupid idea, he certainly shouldn't even consider it, since it would probably be a badly received kiss and would end any chance he had with the mechanic, even if they were tiny. But you know... Clark Ibrahim was never afraid to execute stupid ideas. Of course, the last one he executed ended up severely hurting one of his best friends, preventing him from doing one of the things he loved the most, but there were no lives at stake now! Maybe his, if he were to consider what his older brother used to be, but, no! No lives at stake!

And it was with this assurance of the only trusting voice in his head, that the Ibrahim approached the smaller one, who just looked at him with a small smile and a confused expression. He just smiled back, taking a hand to his chin and lifting him up, simultaneously bringing their faces together until their noses touched. His breathing was heavy and he could feel his hands tingling, just as he could feel the rhythmic heartbeat of the youngest. Before proceeding, he looked at those chocolatey eyes again, surprised to find that the man was also looking at him.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and kissed the other one, still a little anxious about his response to the act. When he realized that he hadn’t moved, the man turned away regretfully, taking his hand to the back of the neck, and avoiding eye contact with the youngest, who just looked at him without understanding. Clark was sweating cold, the anxiety intensifying his shaking a little and causing a lump to form in his throat. Maybe he didn't like the kiss, maybe he was going to hate him for going out kissing him like it was nothing, maybe he was scared and so he didn't react, but that wasn't necessarily good, so...

"Oh, shit, I fucked it up!", The thought echoed in his mind, as he felt his breathing quicken, a whirlwind of hypotheses crossing his mind.

— Clark? – Edamura called, placing a hand on his shoulder.

— I’m sorry! I-I should have asked you before doing something like that, I know you were kidding, I just- – he didn't finish the sentence, since Makoto's moist and slightly cracked lips reached his before.

— It's ok! – he dictated as he parted their lips, getting closer to the pilot and placing a hand on his face, lightly brushing his beard. Makoto lightly stroked Clark's cheek with his thumb while watching him fondly. – It's okay, I was just a little surprised. I didn't think you were really going to kiss me! – He said with a smile, his accent pulled up again. The older man's cheeks heated up, and he finally looked into his friend's (Lover? It was just a kiss) eyes again. – When in doubt, it doesn't hurt to ask! – His warm smile touched the biggest one immensely.

Ibrahim nodded, holding it for a moment in Makoto's small hand, his eyes closed, appreciating the heat it emanated. He heard the water stir, and soon felt Makoto's body closer to his, the weight of his head on his shoulder and his free hand lightly caressing his arm. He soon wrapped him in a hug, and the two of them stood there, hugging each other, in their clothes in a pool, for a while.

Unlike the other moments of that night, when a touch that was even more intimate with Makoto made Clark's heart race, now the only things he felt were comfort and peace. Despite being exposed to the cold, he remained warm, the proximity of the bodies warming him, a smile on his face as he enjoyed the heat that settled in his chest and spread over his body, not wanting to leave that position. Just a few more minutes like that. It wasn't even so cold.

That was when the mechanic left a small kiss on his shoulder, taking the initiative to leave the position. Clark missed the heat, the icy water soon doing its job, and guaranteeing him another shaking crisis.

— I think it's time to leave, right? – damura said, sitting on the edge of the pool ready to leave the cover and go to a warmer place when his hand was held by the pilot's, who looked at him with an abandoned dog face. – Do you want to stay in the cold? Seriously? – he asked exaggeratedly disbelieving, getting a little laugh from the Ibrahim.

— Of course not, I just wanted to be with you more. Usually, when I'm in a pool with someone I like, the tendency is for me to use my princely skills to win over the beautiful lady! – the prince dramatized, following the movements of Edamura, who sat on the edge of the pool watching him with amusement. – It’s not always so… slow, i guess. – he ended simply.

— Yeah, but, unfortunately, the prince is awful with romance and was afraid to kiss his humble subject, and because of that, now he will be left in the infinity pool, dreaming with the lips of the beautiful young man who works for him! Am I right? – Edamura looked at him with irritating conviction, and Clark couldn't help but roll his eyes, inevitably smiling. Unfortunately, he was right. – But you know, – the man suddenly became shy, raising Clark's curiosity. – it's not like I'm going to deny you a kiss ... Not that I'm suggesting anything, far from me! It's just ... a reminder.

— Ah, good reminder! Really good, I will make good use of it! – The blue-eyed one exclaimed, not really sure if he would make good use of the reminder. And the minor noticed it, watching as it sank a little deeper. How can a guy as womanizing as he can't get a simple kiss?

Edamura sighed audibly and jumped back into the pool, right in front of Clark, who took a step back in reflex; however, the Japanese man prevented him from moving further, pulling him by the collar of his blouse and taking his lips, startling the man with the sudden act, who took a while to return the kiss. Edamura was soon in his arms again, his hands between Clark's messy, damp strands, pulling him closer, and seeking to deepen the contact. And, God, he was loving it!

Maybe it was the thrill of kissing someone after so long, but Makoto's body seemed to burn just with that simple contact. The butterflies in his stomach fluttered and his heart beat like a samba school drum, playing faster and harder with each little act of Ibrahim, losing the rhythm with each bite distributed over his lips. When Clark asked for permission to deepen the contact, he didn't think twice before giving in, allowing the eldest to guide him in that delightful dance.

However, the kiss was soon stopped, since they lacked air. They were panting, strangely hot, and flushed. Makoto smiled, leaning back against the edge of the pool. He pulled his hair back, receiving a curious look from Clark. He was very expressive, he thought, approaching and stealing a little kiss from him. He shouldn't be fraternizing with the enemy, at least, not like that, but since he was already breaking rules, he would enjoy it.

— So, – Clark began, leaning back beside him, both back in the same position they were in when they met that night. Thinking about it, Edamura looked at the sky again, now admiring how the pilot's eyes weren’t too far from matching that shade of blue. – How was it to kiss a prince, Mr. Edamura?

— Honestly, I should be the one asking this question. – He replied, again making Clark laugh, this time more restrained. – I kissed you, prince!

— Okay, okay, let's keep this part a secret for your sake! – Ibrahim replied while Makoto turned to face him, eyebrows raised in disbelief. – Imagine what a scandal it would be, a servant daring to steal the prince's lips?! It’s better to think that I seduced you. It will also be easier to believe since I am practically irresistible! – and as soon as he finished the sentence, the prince was hit with cold water, complaining soon after, while Makoto laughed at him.

— Clark! – Came a deep voice, which the lovers immediately associated with the older Ibrahim. A chill ran through Edamura's body, fearing Sam's reaction when he saw them in the pool. Well, at least he didn't arrive at a more compromising moment. – Clar- what the hell are you two doing here? – He asked as soon as he saw them, receiving an embarrassed smile from his younger brother and a grunt of shame from the mechanic.

— We fell. – Clark replied simply, scratching the back of his neck, while Makoto plunged in shame and cold water. But apparently, that simple excuse was enough to convince the organizer. It must have been something common, or maybe he just wasn't interested in what caused two people to fall.

— We have some things to talk about, so let's go. – Sam said, and from his tone, that was not a request.

With a sigh, Clark left the pool, following his brother, who was already heading for the elevator. The younger Ibrahim waved to Edamura, whispering "good night" and sending a puffed kiss to the mechanic. Edamura waved back, following him with her eyes until it was no longer possible. Her cheeks flushed and her chest warmed as he remembered the events of that night. Makoto was really screwed if he was forced to tell everything to the team, and honestly, he was no longer so attached to the idea of ​​deceiving those brothers ... well, just one of them.

He sat down on the edge of the pool again, reclining until his back touched the floor. Edamura looked at the sky, and the sky looked back. A few stars shone and brought a smile to the scammer's face. Singapore's sky might not have been the most beautiful he had ever seen, but it was certainly comforting. It reminded him of a certain pilot, whose eyes were similar in color to the sky, and who marked his stay in that country.

[star-whores-a-new-hoe]

Mission Gone Wrong//Obi Wan X Reader

Forever Series:Part Five

Summary: you tagalong with Anakin and Obi Wan in a mission. Also, I Think this is technicly song fic, the song is Warmth by Bastille, it’s a bop! And if anyone wanted to see me do an actual cover with my uke let me know 😅

word count: 2K

Warning:  Innuendos, Swearing, Pining, general cheeseynes, angst, fluff, fighting, ukulele shenanigan,

“Four months and and seven kidnapping attempts!” You grumbled, storming into the large blue apartment. You clutched an ice pack to the new black eye you had revived from the enemy during the attack. “It could be much worse young one. I once protected someone who had seven assassination attempts in a week.” Obi Wan chided as he followed you into the room. You plopped yourself down on the couch and closed your eyes, laying your head on the back of the seat, relishing in the feeling of the cool ice pack against your throbbing eye. “Besides, you made it out much better then he did.” Obi Wan reminded you as he sat down on the opposite couch.

You smiled pleasantly, remembering how you had kicked the enemy’s feet out from under him. A move Obi Wan had been teaching you for a while. “I was pretty awesome, wasn’t I?” “It is not the way of the Jedi to brag.” “Well,” You added, standing up and walking to the bathroom. “I’m not a Jedi.” I beg to differ. He thought to himself as he watched you walk away. You stood in front of the mirror and removed the ice pack from your face. “Ugh, I look pathetic!” You whined staring at your reflection. “Bruises are merely badges of honor.” Obi Wan called from the other room. You winced as you tried to touch the purple skin. “Well then I just received the god damn Presidential medal of freedom!” You shot back. “It could have been much worse y/n. If it weren’t for your training you would most likely be in sepritist hands right now, a black eye is a small price to pay.” You sighed and placed the ice pack down on the bathroom counter before turning to walk back to the couch. noticing the ukulele laying on the couch, You bent down and picked in up. You sat down in the place where it had just been and began to play some chords, not really worrying about the strumming or chord pattern, just enjoying the soothing, random, progression of sound. Obi Wan raised an eyebrow at you. You shrugged. “I find playing calming.” You said answering his unvoiced question. “And I need calm after an attack like that.” “I don’t hear you play very often.” You watched your fingers play a quick picking pattern “I normally do it when I have down time, here by myself.” “Will you play me something?” You paused your playing and looked up at him with great interest. “What do you want to hear?” “Why not something from Earth?” You smiled. “I only know songs from Earth.” There was a still silence as you contemplated what to play. Without a word, you stood up and jogged over to a nearby table, grabbing your capo and placing it on a fret. You started playing before you even sat back down. Never good just the bad and the ugly, Laid in front of you. Nothing quite like seeing the world through the TVs window. Obi Wan stared at you in total awe. Watching you perform was exquisite. The words falling off your tongue and combining with the music to create a wonderful melody was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t stop thinking about it. Tell me did you see the news last night? Hold me in this wild, wild world. Cause I’m your warmth I forget how cold it can be, And in your heat I feel how cold it can get. So draw me close. You had played this song a million times back home. You knew the pattern and words like the back of your hand. But for some reason, playing it for Obi Wan made it feel really special. So come on let’s forget the emotion, Tie the blinkers on. Hold both hands right over my eyes. Deafen me with music. You let the final note ring out as your playing ceded. You put your uke down in your lap, anxiously awaiting a reaction from Obi Wan. “That… you’re amazing.” You felt your cheeks heat at his complements. “Thanks.” At that moment, the com link on Obi Wan’s belt went off. He got up and walked to the corner of the room. Turning his back to you before he answered it. He talked quickly to the person on the other end in a hushed tone before hanging up and turning back to you. “I’m afraid we are needed at the Jedi temple, Anakin will be meeting us there.” He said, placing his com link back on his belt.

You gently put your instrument down and stood up as well. “Both of us?”

He nodded. “I’m not leaving you alone after that attack.”

You rolled your eyes, too tired to argue with him. “Alright, let's go.”

                                                             ***

“You really don’t need to babysit me!” You said as you walked up the ramp of the ship.

“And Obi Wan can’t disobey a direct order from the jedi council either y/n.” Anakin said as he loaded the ship with supplies.

Obi Wan walked past the two of you, making his way towards the pilots seat of the small space craft. “The jedi order is spread far too thin. There are no other jedi on Coruscant to protect you. This should be an easy mission for Anakin and I, all you have to do is stay on the ship.”

“It’s not the fact that I have to come with you that I’m upset about.” You said, marveling at all the strange, alien tech that adorned the ship. “It’s the fact that you don’t trust me to look after myself.”

Anakin reached past you to fumble with some knobs and switches. “It’s not that he doesn’t trust you, it’s that he’s worried about you.” You couldn’t help but feel touched by the fact that Obi Wan worried about you.

Sighing, you said. “At least I get to go to another planet. I must be the only person from Earth to have been to three different planets!”

“Thats it!” Anakin said reassuringly. “Look on the bright side. Oh, and nice black eye by the way.” he smirked.

“Hey! I may look like a burnt chicken nugget, but I still love myself!”

Anakin chuckled and shook his head. “It must be so hard to make so little sense all the time.”

You frowned. “Yeah, people on Earth didn’t get my obscure pop culture references either. I’m used to it.”

You paused and bit your lip, unsure of how to phrase your question. “Hey Ani?” He hummed in response. “I was wondering, I heard this this and I wasn't sure if it was true or not, I was hoping you could tell me?”

“Ok...” He said as he tinkered with a switch panel.

“Well,” you looked down and fidgeted with your fingers. “Are the jedi celibate?”

He stopped what he was doing and smiled at you in a teasing sort of way. “Why do you want to know?”

“Not reason, just...curious.” You could feel your face begin to heat with embarrassment.

“It’s not exactly celibacy, it’s attachments that are frowned upon. Friendships are tolerated by the council but romantic relationships are not allowed. We are still allowed to-”

“get some booty?” You suggested.

“Um, sure. But it’s more like one night stands and stuff.”

You glanced over at Obi Wan who was sitting in the pilot’s seat with longing in your eyes. “That must be really hard.”

Anakin followed your gaze. “Extremely.”

“Are we all ready Anakin?” Obi Wan called from over his shoulder.

“All set!”

You sat yourself down near a window. You were unable to contain the butterflies of nervousness in your stomach, from the excitement of the prospect of getting to travel through space.

The doors of the ship closed and the ship began to move, taking off into the busy Coruscant sky. You watched from your window as the large city grew smaller beneath you and as the sky grew darker.

When the ship finally made it all the way into space, all you could do was sit there breathless, marveling at the beauty of empty space. Somewhere in the back of your mind you heard Obi Wan tell Anakin to take the wheel.

You were so awe struck by how magnificent the view of the stars was, that you barely registered the footsteps approaching you.

“Enjoying the view?”

You nodded slightly in a dazed sort of way. “On Earth space travel is still very complicated and only a recent discovery. Every little kid dreams of being able to see the stars up close. I never imagined that I would so lucky.”

Anakin yelled from the front. “Approaching hyperspace!”

Obi Wan smiled at your bewilderment. “Then you are going to really enjoy this.”

Suddenly, the ship sped up. The night sky transformed into a beautiful light blue tunnel and the stars into thin white streaks.

Your face grew into a wide smile as you stared out the window. Obi Wan admired how the blue light illuminated your features, how you watched with such astonishment at something he thought of as so mundane. You looked simply angelic.

“Approaching our destination!” Anakin called after  few minutes, ruining the peaceful moment.

You turned from the window to face Obi Wan. “Where are we going again?”

“There was simply a skirmish with some droids, a senator got captured. It should be a very quick mission. We will leave the ship in a secluded area and you should be perfectly safe.”

Out the window, you could make out the distant shape of a s lush, green planet. Obi Wan started to grab weapons and supplies from the shelves of the ship as the ground came closer.

“You have your blaster.” He continued. “And there is some food on the ship.”

“Plus we all have our com links in case anything happens.” Anakin chimed in.

The ship landed in a green clearing surrounded by large trees on all sides. The sun shone through the canopy of leaves, tinting the area with a soft green glow. When the doors opened, you ran out of the ship into the clearing.

“Y/n what are you doing?” Obi Wan called from behind you, confused.

“I just want to do something real quick!” You shot back. Obi Wan watched with curiosity as you slipped off your shoes and stood in the middle of the green space.

You closed your eyes and grinned. “This is incredible! A different sun shining on me, a different ground beneath my feet.” You said as you jumped up and down on the soft grass.

“It loses some of its magic when you’ve been to so many planets.”

You shook your. “I won’t ever get tired of this.” Your smile gadded slightly and you said softly. “My family would never believe this.”

Anakin walked out from the pilots area and put a hand on Obi Wan’s shoulder.

“We should be going, y/n you-”

“I know.” You sighed, Enjoying the new planet for just another moment before grabbing your shoes and turning to go back to the ship.

“We’ll see you soon.” Obi Wan said, giving you a reassuring smile.

“Good luck.” You said, watching them walk off into the jungle before closing the door to the ship.

                                                               ***

Night had fallen over the jungle planet. You sat in the pilot’s seat of the ship with your feet on the dash. Half asleep and curled up in Obi Wan’s jedi cloak that he’d left behind, as the night had grown cold. You loved how warm and safe it made you feel, and how it carried the smell of him. You were awoken from your sleepy state by the buzz of the com link on your hip.

Startled, you quickly reached over and answered it. You were met by a fuzzy picture of Anakin.

“Y/n!” He yelled. The picture was not great and the sound kept breaking up, but you were able to make of the sounds of fighting in the background. 

“Trap...Captured! Sending coordinates...help...trust you.”

“I’ll call the other jedi!” You said.

“No time...kill us...hurry.” The picture went dead. You jumped to your feet and grabbed your blaster. It was up to you to save the jedi.

Tag List: @theatreandtessa​ @whovianayesha​ @fangirl-on-bitches​

[my-funky-little-cowboy]

Cowboy Couture

Yeehawgust Day 11 Words: 1,585 Characters: Arthur Morgan, Charles Smith, Albert Mason Pairings: Implied Charthur Warnings: Fluff

This was part of an collab piece with @peacesentinel​ that we both kind of forgot about, but at least now it’s getting some light. You can find more of his work on his twitter

Arthur dropped the buck heavily next to Pearson’s wagon. He stared at it as he cleaned half dried blood off his hands, discarding the small rag before cracking his neck. 

“Good thing you dropped this off! I don’t think I could have, in good conscience, used the supplies we had left. Thank you, Arthur.” Pearson clapped him on the back before he dragged the carcass to the back of the wagon for dressing. 

Arthur sighed and returned to untack Ulysses, the sun slowly dipping beneath the horizon. He eyed the stew pot lazily simmering over the fire as he passed and decided to opt out, considering that the deer wouldn’t be properly butchered until morning. 

“Letter came for you.” Tilly caught him by the elbow as he passed.

“For me?” Arthur stopped, confused.

“From Saint Denis. Real fancy.” She cocked an eyebrow. “You got someone special out there we don’t know about?” 

“This old fool? Nah.” Arthur dismissed, but Tilly’s coy expression remained.

“It don’t look like that Mary girl’s handwriting, so who is it?” Arthur shot her a glare and she sighed, exasperated.  

“Fine," she pouted, "I left it on your table. It’s just so boring around here, Arthur. This looked exciting!” 

Arthur shook his head, “If it’s some secret admirer, I’ll be sure to let you know.” Tilly scoffed and waved him off dismissively before wandering over to the music that had started near the fire.

He quickly finished untacking Ulysses and headed to his tent, curiosity piqued despite himself. He picked up the letter, the handwriting unfamiliar, flipping it over in his hands a few times before gently sliding his knife along the fold to open it.

Mr. Morgan,

I hope this letter finds you well. I have gotten myself into a bind and I didn’t know who else I could turn to. I am in need of two able bodies for a project. I’m in St. Denis, ask for me around the Bastille. 

I hope to see you soon!

A. Mason 

“Ah, shit.” Arthur sat down on his cot. He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose.

What's Albert gotten himself into now? He promised to stay away from wildlife the last time they'd parted. He laid down on the cot, what's he gotten into that he’d send me a letter? Kneading his knuckle into his eye until he saw stars, he sighed. Saint Denis is the place to find out. Angling his hat over his face, he decided, the city's only about half a day’s ride. I'll swing by tomorrow with someone, just to check it out.  

                                                           ---⤱---

Arthur blinked the sleep from his eyes, the dull pinks of the rising sun blearily shining through the canvas ceiling. He stretched and stepped out of his tent, crossing over to the fire. Hosea adjusted the percolator near the flames before turning to face Arthur.

“Morning, Arthur.” 

He offered a little wave in response, grabbing an apple from the wagon and kneeling near the fire. 

“Coffee will be ready in a bit,” Hosea took a seat at the table, picking up the paper and thumbing through it. 

“I gotta check on a lead in Saint Denis later. You hear anything else that may be worth investigatin’?” He took a bite from the apple and Hosea lowered the paper.

“Saint Denis? What’d you find out that way?”

“Ain’t quite sure, but I was gonna bring Charles along.” He poured them both a cup of coffee.

“Bring me along where?” Charles rounded the wagon to join them, a can of peaches in his hand.

“T’check on a lead in Saint Denis.” Arthur tossed the apple core into the fire and stood up, taking a sip from his coffee. “Was just going to look for ya. Ride with me?”

“Don’t draw too much attention.” Hosea shook out the paper, returning to his reading as Charles nodded, already heading to the hitched horses. 

They rode south for a while, briefly stopping to water the horses at a small farm outside of Rhodes. Arthur pulled the letter out of his satchel, re-reading it. 

“So what is this lead?” Charles asked, his eyes flicking down to the letter in Arthur’s hands.

“Checkin’ up on a friend. Got this letter in the mail. Sounds like he may be in a bit of a situation and needs some help.” He held the letter up in a hand. 

“Old gang member?” Charles pressed, suddenly cautious.

“Nah, just a stranger I helped out a few times. A photographer. Wanted to take pictures of all of the untamed wilds of America, before civilization destroyed it. If I hadn’t come along, nature would have surely destroyed him first.” He shook his head, exhaling a laugh.

“You think he might be in trouble? Why?” 

“I ain’t sure, but he asked for help and it ain’t that far, so I thought I’d investigate.” He shrugged. 

“Why’d you need me?” Annoyance peppered Charles’ voice.

“He said he needed two people.” Arthur tucked the letter away, whistling for Ulysses and swinging himself up onto the saddle.

                                                          ---⤱---

They pushed the doors to the Bastille open and were greeted by the bartender and a handful of patrons looking up as they made their way to the bar. 

“What can I get for you fellas?” The bartender leaned against the counter.

“We’re lookin’ for someone.” Arthur said, “Was told to ask around here. He’s a photographer- Albert Mason, you know him?”

“Maybe I seen him around. Ya’ll bounty hunters or something? Can’t imagine that boy in any sort of trouble.”

“Not exactly- he sent a letter for us to ask ‘round here for him.” Arthur pulled said letter out of his satchel and put it down on the bar. The bartender eyed it lazily before turning his attention to another patron.

 “He rents a small apartment above the tailor. That’d be the best place to start. Ya’ll gonna order anything?” Arthur glanced at Charles, who shook his head.

“Nah, thank you kindly.” He dropped a couple coins onto the bar and they headed back out into the street.

                                                          ---⤱---

Albert opened the door, a huge smile making him practically glow as he recognized the familiar face.

“You came! I wasn’t sure the letter would reach you! Come in! Come in!” He waved them both inside. Charles looked at Arthur, who shrugged and followed Albert inside.

“'Course we came, you said you was in a bind. Everything okay?” Albert spun around, his face painted with confusion.

“Of course I’m okay, I’ll explain everything when we get to the studio. But first you both need to change.” 

“Change?” Charles interjected. Albert nodded and rummaged through some things on his desk before producing a couple brown paper packages.

“These might be a bit large.” He handed a package to each of them. Charles held up his hand.

“Change for what?” Charles’ tone was laced with apprehension and Albert furrowed his brow, confused.

“The photoshoot?”

“The what?” Arthur raised his eyebrows, “You said you was in a bind!” 

Albert turned red, realizing only now how his letter came across. He threw his hands up defensively before covering his mouth in embarrassment. 

“Oh! Oh no! I am so sorry. My letter.” He drew his hand across his face. “You...thought I was in danger...”

Arthur nodded, his lips pressed together in frustration.

“No, no, no, no. I got this photography job, on the recommendation of my acquaintance Algernon, to do a photoshoot for a catalogues new clothing line. It’s to be the first use of photographs in the Wheeler Rawson.”

Arthur exhaled slowly, his grip on the package tightening, frustrated more-so with himself for reading too much into the letter. Charles shook beside him and Arthur felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him, fueling his anger. 

A masked chuckle broke the tension, both men turning toward the sound. Charles broke, letting out a chorus of raucous laughter. Arthur flushed, turning to face Albert; he sighed heavily and shook his head.

“Got anywhere with a bit’a privacy?”

                                                          ---⤱---

The studio was set up when they finished changing, Albert directing them on how and where to stand. The starched clothes dug into them, Lemoyne heat making it nearly unbearable to stand still, bright studio lights only making matters worse. Albert tittered about, posing them.

“Just like that, perfect, don’t mo-” Albert sighed from behind the camera. “Stop messing with your shirt.” Arthur pulled at the stiff collar, unbuttoning the top two before Albert swatted his hands away.

“Ain’t no one really gonna wear this shit.” He grumbled.

“I don’t know, that shirt suits you.” Charles quipped, scratching at his own shirt before tying his hair in a loose ponytail to cool down. Arthur scowled at him

Albert straightened out Arthur’s collar and stepped back surveying the shot. He leaned in and unfastened Charles’s top button and stepped back again. The boys discomfort grew as he continued to stare. He checked the viewfinder on the camera. Sweat trickled down Arthur’s forehead, before he could think he pulled his hat off and wiped the sweat away with his forearm, slicking back his hair with and replacing the hat firmly on his head.

“No, no hat.” Albert exclaimed from behind the camera. Arthur froze. 

“Give it to Charles.” Arthur plopped the hat onto Charles’ head, his hand hovering as he waited for Albert to respond. 

“Perfect.” Albert whispered. Arthur returned to his pose, glancing down to see Charles grin before he heard the soft click of the camera.

[sprnklersplashes]

the opening line

yo so I decided to create a series of one-shots on ao3 based on my own version of season 7. it includes emma, hope, original killian and hopefully some other season 7 characters. there would be some similarities to canon, but a lot of differences. some is based on how I think the show would have went if jen had stayed, some is just how I would have wanted it. if that seems like something you’d vibe with, check it out! this is the first part.

AO3

“This is what you’re going to do,” their mother tells them, standing the two of them side by side. “You’re going to run. You’re not going to look back, you’re not going to stop. You’re going to run and you’re going to get to the wardrobe and hide in there until it’s over.” Henry holds his sister closer, feeling her body trembling through his jacket. Their mother smiles, pride shining in her eyes despite the terror coursing through her veins. “And then you’ll come find us.”

“Mom,” Hope chokes out, tears already running down her young face. Henry’s heart breaks for her, the weight of this destiny far too much for her young shoulders. Not quite the same prophecy as the one their mother faced, but similar enough. Emma presses a kiss to the young girl’s head and looks into the green eyes so like her own. “Mom, I can’t do this.”

“Yes you can,” she tells her firmly, her eyes looking up to check the sky. They don’t have much time, and Emma knows it, so she makes do with what she can. “You’re my daughter. You’re descended from Queens and warriors and pirates and Saviours.” She grabs both the girl’s shoulders, forcing her to look into her eyes. “And you’re a survivor, Hope. You and your brother. I don’t trust anyone else the way I trust the two of you, okay?”

Hope opens her mouth to answer, but a clap of thunder stops her, a scream eliciting from her mouth instead.

“We don’t have any time left. Killian and I’ll hold anyone off. You two go. Go!”

Her final order jerks Henry into motion and he grabs his sister’s hand and takes off into the woods, their feet skidding over stones and sticks, their hands barely visible in front of them. The trees seem to have grown and spread over the sky and smoke blocks out the moon and stars. If it wasn’t for Hope’s magic guiding them to the wardrobe, they’d be utterly lost.

Unfortunately, his sister isn’t the only one with magic, and just as they arrive at the tree where the wardrobe has been built, visitors arrive, clad in black velvet cloaks, their hands clawed. There’s a wild, feral look in their eyes and while they look like ordinary young girls, they’re not human. Not anymore.

“Henry,” Hope whispers, her hand tightening around his, the other extending and pulsing with magic. Henry has to smirk, despite everything else. Ready for a fight, that’s her.

But she’s not the one who needs to fight.

“Hope, get in there,” he tells her, drawing his sword.

“But what about-”

“I’ll be right behind you,” he tells her. “Now get in there.”

“I don’t think so,” another voice says behind them. A girl appears at Hope’s side, with a smile both beautiful and dangerous. “Young Hope. You’re coming with us.”

“Over your dead body,” Hope snarls, and the girl flies backwards, far out of sight, into the coming smoke. He sees her grin, savouring her first victory, but another crack of thunder shakes her out of it. Sharing a nod with him, she runs to the wardrobe, her fingers fumbling in her bag, and she pulls out a key.

Just as he hears a click behind him, a gust of wind throws the two of them back, and more importantly, keeping the door shut tightly.

“Hope!” he calls. He just about makes her out, hair whipping wildly across her face. Pushing against the wind, she reaches out and points across the glen, to where another girl stands, her hands raised. “I’ll take care of her. And once I do, you get in.”

“What about you?” she screams above the gust. “I won’t leave you.”

“You’re the one Gothel wants!” he reminds her. “It’s you, Hope. Whatever happens, you get in that wardrobe.” She shakes her head, but they’ve no time to argue. “I’ll be right back, just get in there as soon as you can!”

With that warning, he charges at the girl, sword brandished high. His limbs burn as the wind grows stronger, pushing him back, back, away from her. One foot lands in front of the other, one hand held up in front of his face, and once he’s in front of her, he slashes at her legs. Not enough to kill her, but enough to distract her. The breeze dies down as though it was never there, and the wardrobe opens behind him.

The girl blinks in confusion, pain flashing across her face, and guilt blooms in his chest. None of this is her fault. She’s caught in Gothel’s spell, and both he and Hope know how hard that is to break.

“Henry!” Hope calls. He turns and sees her inside, her face white and her eyes white. “Henry get in here!”

He doesn’t need to be reminded twice. He turns and starts running, his eyes locked on his sister’s face, his body speeding across the forest floor until he’s just steps away from her.

Until something hits his shoulder, and suddenly his cheek is on the ground. He’s vaguely aware of his sister’s anguished screams, but the pain, oh the pain, blocks it out. He reaches up and finds his shoulder wet and his shirt heavy. He doesn’t need to guess what it is.

“Henry!” A pair of legs come out of the wardrobe.

“No, Hope!” The smoke isn’t just above them now, it seeps past the trees and over the ground, already engulfing the other girl. She goes willingly, smiling like she’s been blessed rather than the opposite. He turns back to his sister, her horrified face, and drags himself closer to her. “Hope you need to go now. Close the doors and you’ll escape all of this.”

“But what about you?” she asks. “I was mean to go with you.”

“Change of plans,” he grunts. And despite the searing pain and the darkness taking over his vision, he smiles. “What does our family always do, Hope?” The smoke is upon them now; they have seconds, if even. “What do we do?”

“Find each other,” she says. “But-”

“No buts!” he tells her. “You need to go. For all of us.”

She nods and mouths something before disappearing into the wardrobe, the doors closing and locking behind her.

He’s turned onto his back, and someone’s face is in his vision, demanding to know where his sister is. He knows who it is, and that’s exactly why he spits in her face.

“She got away,” he whispers before she smoke fills his vision and he’s gone.

It’s raining when Henry leaves the couple off at a nightclub, one man holding his jacket over his boyfriend’s head. It’s an intimate gesture, so much so that Henry almost feels bad for looking in on it. He wouldn’t know about that sort of thing, obviously, but he can tell from looking at them. He might not know about relationships, but he knows people.

The boy gives him a tip and tells him to have a good night. He doesn’t respond to that, only thanking him and telling him to be careful before pulling out of the kerb and heading home, windshield wipers batting away against the rain.

At least that was his last one for the night. If only his shift didn’t finish at 11. And if only his apartment wasn’t on the other side of town and he wasn’t battling his way through 50 other Swyft cars, cabs, buses and cyclists. Damn he hates those freaking cyclists.

He keeps his focus on the lights of the car ahead, staring at them even as his head begins to throb. There’s plenty of light here, not just from the cars, but from the street lights and the glow of the clubs and bars and restaurants, the city bright and alive against the dark backdrop. Bright and alive. Those are the two words he keeps in mind as he drives. As long as there’s light, he’s safe.

He parks his car at around 11:30, far later than he likes to be home. In an ideal world he’d be in his bedroom with a good book (and the lamp on) at this point. The street light is still on as he gets out of the car, as is the porchlight on his apartment block. There are little lights all around him, small and flickering and weak, but they’re there.

So why is his skin crawling?

With the collar of his jacket pulled up, he makes his way to the front door, hands stuffed in his pocket. At least the lobby is lit and warmer than outside. The receptionist gives him a half-nod as he walks in, more interesting in her Instagram feed than him. Maybe some people might find that rude, but it suits him fine. The less people involve themselves with him the better.

The elevator is slow as hell and creaks so loudly the whole building hears it and it reeks of something he doesn’t want to know. There’s also dozens of messages scribbled on the walls in marker, ranging from phone numbers to people’s signatures walls to heartbroken, half-drunk rants. Henry can only look straight at the doors if he doesn’t want to read about some teenager failing school or how some pathetic asshole walked out on his baby mom. He gets enough of that from the back of his car.

It grinds to a halt and the doors open to the dim hallway. Henry’s hands clench at his side, sweat trickling slowly down his back. It’s not pitch darkness. It’s not so dark that he can’t see where he’s going. But it’s enough. Enough to make him bolt from the elevator and down the hall to his apartment, the walls blurring into one as he goes. If he could, he’d be grateful that no-one was around to see him, but all he can focus on is getting into his apartment and turning on a light before it happens.

It’s only when he’s there that he feels truly safe

He isn’t scared of the dark. Not in that way. Not in the stupid little kid way, or even the way people his age still are. No, the reason he can’t stand dark rooms and sleeps with a lamp on isn’t because of some horror movie he watched as a kid or some primal fear. It’s because of what happens whenever the lights go off.

It only takes a second of darkness for him to see it; flames leaping up at his side, spreading across the room, surrounding him, almost mocking him in the way they move. Daring him to cross over them. Smoke filling his lungs and clogging his mouth, stopping him from crying out for help. The walls of purple flame rising higher, illuminating a figure opposite him, reaching out their hand, mouth open in a permanent scream. Sometimes, lately more often than not, he hears them calling out his name, desperate and terrified, begging him to do… something. To come save them, he guesses, but he can’t be sure.

Survivor’s guilt. That’s what his therapist calls it. He doesn’t really understand that phrase. How can he feel guilty for surviving a fire that happened when he was a baby? The fire that killed both his parents. According to his file, he was mostly untouched, only a few burns that still show themselves in scars on his arms and chest. Lucky, he’s been told. His parents were less so.

His therapist also reckons the figure he sees must be his mother. And much as he respects her, he silently disagrees. He doesn’t know who it is, but there’s a feeling of protectiveness towards her that he wouldn’t feel towards his mom.

He shakes his head, smacking the side for good measure. He doesn’t like dwelling on that for too long outside the confines of his therapist’s office. That will only lead to a bigger workload for her.

He takes out his dinner-microwavable pasta-from the fridge and sticks it in the microwave, his frayed, overworked brain barely remembering to punch the holes first. He learned that the hard way. With his dinner cooking away, he leans against the wall, running his hand over his face. Behind him, the tap drips incessantly, signalling to him that another day has gone by that his landlord hasn’t fixed it. That makes it day number twenty seven. Adding that to the Internet cutting out on the regular and the heating going out every month, there’s probably a lot that his landlord has done to violate the terms of his contract, but he doesn’t say anything. Yes, this apartment sucks, but he hears that living on the streets is far worse. There’s not many places in the city a Swyft driver can afford.

Well, Swyft driver slash former author.

When he started writing that book, he pictured himself living in a place with a lot more class. At least two bathrooms, for a start. And in a nicer part of town. Maybe with a partner, some dogs. A family of his own, he guesses.

It’s not that his book did badly. At the start it had done quite well; he got emails from fans telling him how much they liked it, it made quite a few top 10 lists and people were initially excited to hear he was planning a sequel.

Only the sequel never came. And excitement died down, his book overshadowed by the next big thing; something about robots in the distant future or something. And he got left behind. There are a few old faithful fans knocking around on Tumblr and once in a blue moon, someone will ask on Twitter about his sequel, but all in all, the literary world doesn’t want him anymore. People have outgrown fairytales, and so outgrown him.

The sequel is still on his laptop. Well, sort of. There’s a blank word document with a blinking cursor, a story he’s tried a hundred times before. He can see it in his mind, the story of a brother and sister fighting against evil, holding onto each other. He knows every detail of these character’s lives, who they love and how, he knows the girl has magic and the boy wields a sword and that an evil witch has a huge interest in the girl and it’s the brother’s job to protect her. He knows these characters like they’re real, like they’re here, know them better than he knows himself and his own life.

He thinks about it all day long, and yet when he sits down he can barely write an opening line. His hand moves of its own accord and opens the laptop, the mouse moving to open the document-

Then his microwave goes off and at that same second there’s a knock at the door.

He wanted a sign from the universe that this story wasn’t worth finishing. The universe gave him two.

“If this is another Mormon,” he mumbles as he makes his way to the door. He does not have any time to talk about the Lord Jesus Christ. As far as he’s concerned, if the Lord Jesus Christ exists then He’s not watching over him.

It’s not a Mormon. It’s a girl, a teenage girl, which ranks slightly below Mormons because at least he gets what a Mormon would be doing at his apartment at this hour.

“Isn’t it a little late?” he asks her. “Do Girl Scouts usually deliver this late?”

“Do I look like a Girl Scout?” she asks, indignance evident in her voice. He’s a little shocked, and a little impressed, so he looks at her properly. He guesses she’s 15, maybe 16, with red-brown hair held back in a loose braid and green eyes. Her clothes are interesting to say the least, her frame hidden beneath a jacket slightly too big for her, the sleeves of a plaid shirt hanging over her hands and the laces on her converse coming undone. There’s something about her face too when she looks at him, equal parts cautious and hopeful, trying not to let one win out over the other.

“Are you Henry Swan?” she asks.

That’s the last thing he expected to hear from her.

“Yeah,” he answers carefully. He’s pretty sure he’s seen this movie before. “Who are you?”

“My name’s Hope,” she tells him. She smiles, and there’s something almost familiar about it. “I’m your sister.”

And then it happens. Without warning, the Earth shifts, the floor is pulled out from under him, gravity fails and he goes plummeting through the air, unable to breath. His whole perspective on himself and who he is and life itself is thrown into the air and turned around completely.

“What?” is all he can say to him. She simply smiles and ducks beneath his arm, letting herself into his apartment.

“I’m kind of hungry, you have any food?” she asks. As though she didn’t just drop the biggest truth bomb on him.

“Woah, kid,” he replies, following her into the kitchen. He finds her standing on her toes to reach the cupboard, her tongue poked out of the corner of her mouth, and for the brief moment wonders when she last ate. “You just said you’re my…. My sister?”

“Half-sister, if you want to be technical.” She flashes him another smile, her eyes soft and her face glowing. “But we never really bothered about technicalities.”

“O… kay,” he says. “But I don’t…. how?” He doesn’t know if he’s asking her or himself. “You can’t be my sister.”

“Well, I am,” she says firmly.

“Okay, okay, okay,” he reasons. He sits down at the table and she does the same, a bowl of cereal in front of her. “How old are you exactly?”

“Sixteen.”

“Ah-ha!” He doesn’t know why exactly he’s so happy about this, but he is, and he points a finger right at her to prove it. Maybe because if she isn’t his sister (which she can’t be) he can go on his normal, mundane life and not have to face any massive alterations. Or disappointments. “You can’t be my sister. Because I’m thirty one-”

“You look it.”

“And,” he interrupts, rolling over her. “My parents are dead. They died when I was a baby. So logically, you can’t be my sister. You see siblings kind of have to share parents. It’s one of the things.”

“Your parents aren’t dead,” she says. She’s so remarkably casual when she’s saying all this that it’s actually infuriating. It might be a game to her, but it’s his life.

“Choose your next words carefully, kid,” he tells her. “Otherwise I’ll be tempted to call security.” There is no security, but she doesn’t need to know that.

“Okay.” To her credit, she sobers up and leans on the table, seriousness creasing her face. It’s strange to see on her. “Your family isn’t dead. They’re just lost.”

“I lost my family?”

“Wasn’t your fault,” she tells him. “There was this curse and everyone got torn apart. You were meant to come with me.”

“Oh, a curse.” He throws his hands up and leans back in his chair. He should have known. “Kid, I’ve read that book. I wrote that book.”

“You mean this book?” She takes a copy out of her bag and slides it across the table. It’s small and bound in brown leather, the words Once Upon A Time written across the cover. It’s his all right, even if for some reason his name isn’t on it. Nothing is, no publisher, no author’s note. Just his story.

“So you’re a fan?”

“Henry,” she says strongly. Again, there’s something so unsettlingly familiar about her saying his name. “This is our story. Our family’s, our parents.” She taps the cover. “It’s all in here. It all happened to you.”

“Nothing in this happened to me,” he says, dropping the book on the table. He pushes himself away from the table and as he does so, his shoulder twinges. The suddenness of it hurts just as much as the pain. He grits his teeth and grabs the edge of the counter, breathing slowly and steadily until it subsides. He always manages to forget about this until it flares up again.

“Are you okay?” she asks, running up to his side, her eyes wide.

“Fine,” he grunts, rolling it around for good measure. “Shoulder pain. Therapist reckons I got it when I was a baby. The night my parents…” He shakes his head at himself. “Why am I even telling you this?”

“Because we’re family?” There’s a strange look in her eye as she looks at his shoulder, something he can’t place.

“Stop that,” he sighs. He turns to face her, the two of them in stony silence. The most logical explanation is that she liked his book and got obsessed with it. So obsessed she wanted to meet the recluse author. That happens; fan culture has gone crazy these days. But there’s something about her, something about the familiarity of her face, her smile, her voice.

No, that’s insane. Maybe they ran into each other at one point at a book signing back in the day. But nothing else. She’s nothing to him and really, he’s nothing to her.

Still, she’s just a kid, and her parents are probably worried sick. And there’s all kinds of creeps on public trains and buses at this hour.

He’s going to regret this. So much.

“Where do you live?” he asks. “I can take you home, explain all this to your parents. Say it was all a misunderstanding and listen to them ground you.”

“You’ll come home with me?” she asks. Elated is almost too weak a word for her face. Her hands are clasped together in front of her face, her eyes shining.

“I’ll take you home,” he corrects her. She nods anyway, the smile on her face breathless and joyful. It almost makes him feel something. Empathy, maybe. Which is odd since he’s not the empathetic type. “Where’s home?”

“Hyperion Heights,” she replies. Oh, great. Hyperion Heights is at least a forty minute drive from here. After getting her home and explaining whatever he’s going to explain to her parents it’ll probably be around 2am when he gets back.

Besides, he’d be driving in the dark then. Pitch darkness. That’s not ideal at the best of times but especially when he’s driving.

“Is that an issue?” she asks with an audacious false-earnestness. She planned this so well that he’s almost impressed. He’s be more so if he wasn’t so annoyed with her.

“Stay here for tonight,” he sighs. Just as she brightens up, he points his finger at her, squaring up. “But we are leaving here at 6am sharp to take you back to your parents. Deal?”

“Deal.” She holds her hand out to him. He glares at her for a second but shakes it all the same. “Oh, can I use your bathroom?”

This kid has some nerve. And he supposes he’s not much better for going along with it.

“Sure. Down the hall first door on your right.”

She grins and turns to go. He watches her, kind of fascinated. Despite the annoyance, he wonders what her home life is like. If she’s in school and does she do okay there. If she has friends. If she’s happy. Why she liked his book so much. If she’s okay. He’s not one to judge but those clothes don’t look new and the way she wolfed down that cereal has him on edge.

“What did you say your name was again?” he asks.

“Hope,” she says proudly. “Hope Hermione Swan.”

“I like the middle name,” he snorts.

“You would,” she tells him. “You chose it after all.”

Then she skips off to the bathroom, leaving him scratching his head. An hour ago he was an orphan and a loner, now he apparently has a while family trapped cursed in another neighbourhood, living under an hour away from him without him knowing. A sister he apparently helped name. It’s crazy. She’s crazy. And he’s even crazier for going along with this crap. A long-lost sister showing up on an orphan’s doorstep and telling him he has a family. It’s ridiculous.

Although… he turns back to where he left his laptop, the blank first chapter still sitting there. It’s not a bad opener for a story.

He puts the laptop in his backpack. Just in case.

[knives-out20]

City Of Stars - Erik Lehnsherr x Male!Reader

Fandom: X-Men

Pairing: Karmel Rosenstein (OC) x Erik Lehnsherr

Warnings: Swearing, Gay, Erik being genuinely happy,

Notes: Sorry I disappeared for a few weeks. Had a lower back injury thing that I won’t get into, and it led to me to not being able to go to school, sit down, etc, so I thought it best to take a break from writing until I got better. But now I’m back!! The song used is City Of Stars from La La Land- specifically the Hollywood Mix. No spellcheck, we die like men. Enjoy!

Karmel offered his hand to Erik, sunlight shining through the nearby window and into his dirty-blond hair. “May I have this dance?”

Erik scoffed, looking him up and down. “You may...but with what music?”

“You act like we’ve never danced in silence before, Ricky. If you’re that pissy about it, I could sing.” Karmel teased.

Erik took Karmel’s hand, pulling him a step closer. “That’d be lovely, actually.”

Karmel rolled his eyes, making the first move in their dance. “I call this one ‘City Of Stars’” he introduced. “City of stars, are you shining just for me? City of stars, there’s so much that I can’t see.” Karmel started, looking Erik in the eyes.

Erik quickly caught on. “By ‘city of stars’, you mean my eyes, don’t you, dear?”

“You’re no fun,” Karmel pouted, pushing Erik away with one hand, only to quickly pull him back in. “Who knows? I felt it from the first embrace that I shared with you,” he carried on, quickly pulling Erik in too close for comfort.

But close enough for Erik to place a gentle kiss on his neck.

Karmel closed his eyes, praising the moment for what it was before pulling away. “That now our dreams may finally come true,” he hummed, glancing out the window and over the direct view he had of Genosha. Karmel smiled softly, knowing that that lyric was more than true. Would he have liked his current status to have just a few altercations? Yes, definitely, no doubt about it- and Erik knows this, obviously. But Karmel’s the happiest he’s been in ages, and he feels that’s good enough for him.

“You’re thinking about it again, aren’t you?”

“About what?”

“You know what I mean, dove.”

Karmel’s lips formed a line in response. “I mean...yea, but- but it has nothing to do with you, so don’t even try to start on that shit.” He pointed at Erik, other hand cupping his lover’s cheek. Karmel’s thumb stroked the side of Erik’s face, in comfort. “I love where we’re at, right now, I really fuckin’ do. But you just...gotta give me a bit of time to adjust. I went from living like- like- like, you know how I lived, I don’t need t’explain again. To living on a remote, forest-y island. I went from Gatsby to General Zaroff, kinda, uh, basically. That’s a huge shift, compared to the multiple shifts I’ve gone through for the past few decades. You can’t really expect me to not be homesick of an old home, can you?”

Erik leaned into Karmel’s touch; he understood. “I suppose not.”

“E-Exactly, I’m a- I’m a bitchy kid, a privileged, rich, white guy who’s been handed everything and everything good on a silver platter since birth. I even had my shoes shined when I was a baby. I sound hella spoiled for missing that, so, like...I’m sorry.” Karmel shrugged.

“It’s alright, Karmel,” Erik whispered, taking Karmel’s hand in his own. “I’m just glad you’ve been enjoying this life so far.”

“I’m all over it.” Karmel agreed, that typical yet excited puppy-dog look on his face. “Anyway-” he cleared his throat, returning to the moment at hand. Slowly he began to dance with Erik once more. “City of stars, just one thing everybody wants,” Karmel chirped, pointing two fingers at Erik’s celestial eyes. “There in the bars, and through the smokescreen of the crowded restaurants. It’s love, yes, all we’re looking for is love from someone else,” he and Erik spun around the room, features softening down when they were in each others’ gaze.

Erik’s heart beat pitter-pattered down to a calm pace, being as he had the one thing that calmed him down, right here in his arms.

“A rush,” Karmel raised his eyebrows, “a glance,” he shyly glanced down, still not being able to handle Erik’s gaze for too long. Similarly to when he first met the man. “A touch,” Karmel’s fingers grazed Erik’s shoulder, followed by spinning Erik as he sang “a dance.”

“A look in somebody’s eyes, to light up the skies” Karmel looked up at the roof, which the sky hid, just above. He was sure that when Erik was born, a piece of the sky was taken, broken in half, and stored in his lovely eyes. Karmel wouldn’t take anything else for an answer; nothing else was a logical enough of an explanation to explain why Erik’s eyes were as ethereal as they were.

Deep, moody sometimes, clouded with the darkest of storm clouds when he was upset. But on the off-chance of Erik being in a good mood, his eyes showed it more than any feature on his body, Karmel knew this. They’d shine like the finest rhinestones, set perfectly into their sockets. One glance from Erik alone could tell a thousand stories that even the most articulate of authors could go out of business- in the same vein, Karmel feels that if he was to write about Erik’s eyes, it’d be a book series’ worth of run-on sentences. Erik’s eyes are one of his, if not than just his, most striking features. So very blue, that even the seas surrounding Genosha couldn’t compare, not in a million years or a billion universes. Erik’s eyes are more easy to get lost in than any maze or labyrinth imaginable, no matter how far and wide it could be. Erik’s eyes are the seventh wonder of the world, something to get prominently lost in the pages of history books. His eyes are something that should be seen by everyone, but Karmel rightfully wants the gift of seeing them all to himself. They give him such a high that weed has never given him, they’re his light, his map, his compass, he could make an altar for them and praise at it everyday, begging for salvation. 

Karmel clearly had a lot to say about Erik’s eyes. But to Erik’s face, he’d never say it. “To open the world and send it reeling. A voice that says ‘I’ll be here, and you’ll be alright’.”

“You’re the voice? Don’t deny it.” Erik muttered, shaking his head.

Karmel nodded proudly. ”I don’t care if I know, just where I will go, ‘cause all that I need’s this crazy feeling. A rat-tat-tat on my heart,” he crooned, tapping his finger on the left side of Erik’s chest, where his heart lay underneath. Karmel took Erik’s hand and dipped him smoothly, repeating his earlier chorus of this ballad about his beauty: Erik. “A glance,” he glanced away, “a dance.”

Erik pulled Karmel closely in his grip, never ever wanting to let go whenever he did. He’s had many opportunities in the past to be greedy about whatever he’s ever wanted, but he’s never been more greedy about anything except Karmel. This was something proven to be quite hard to do. 

Karmel’s from a long line of aristrocrats, the Rosenstein name being spoken of almost as much as any famous Tinseltown celebrity. Someone as rich and famous as a Rosenstein heir- especially one like Karmel- is hard to keep all to yourself. It’s like guarding a museum artifact, basically: sure, you have it protected in a glass case. But it’s a museum artifact, people are obviously going to look at it, talk about it, read about it, and know it exists. Erik is Karmel’s protective glass case, and the museum visitors are anybody in the world who know of the Rosenstein name.

In recent years, Erik know’s its been easier to be greedy over Karmel. Safe on their remote island filled with mutants, Grimm kicking it in the Rosenstein estate back on America’s mainland.

Karmel repeated the earlier verse following the first chorus, tapping Erik’s heart when that line came to once more. He sighed silently, exploring Erik’s facial features as if it’d be his last time to do so. “City of stars, are you shining just for me?” Karmel smiled expectantly. “City of stars...you never shined so brightly.”

Erik giggled, looking down for a moment.

Karmel’s and Erik’s dance slowed to a stop, their synchronized breaths filling the silence in the air. “Well?”

“Well...” Erik met Karmel’s eyes. “You really did waste your talent away in that library, Karmel.”

“Oh, come on!” Karmel exclaimed, playfully rolling his eyes. “Fuck off.”

“Karmel-” Erik laughed, kissing his nose. “The song was wonderful, Karmel.”

“Oh, so fuck the dance, huh?” Karmel joked.

“Karmel-”

“I’m joking” Karmel grinned. “I’m glad you like it...I love you.”

“I love you too, Karmel. ‘Til the end of time, remember?”

Karmel nodded obediently, spinning the ring on his left hand. “Even then, Erik, you’ll still be mine.”

[aion-rsa]

The 25 Best SNL Holiday Sketches

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The holidays are a special time around 30 Rock. While tourists flock to see the towering Christmas tree, the Saturday Night Live writers room is busy thinking of holiday sketches you’ll reminisce about as you put up the stockings for years to come. Some of SNL’s all-time great sketches illustrate the best of the holiday spirit or lack thereof as show’s biggest stars often shined the brightest just before the New Year. 

From unlikely Santas to unorthodox gift-giving, we’re looking at 25 of our favorite Saturday Night Live holiday sketches. We’ll be going in chronological order here. There is a big dose of modern stuff in there, but what can I say? The show might be more miss than hit these days, but they really hit it out of the park year after year with the Christmas sketches.

Santi-Wrap (1976)

Very early in the show’s run, we get this classic where an adult woman (Laraine Newman) is all about sitting on Santa’s lap like when she was a little kid. The initial laugh is that before sitting down, she puts pieces of toilet paper on Santa’s leg for protection, like one would do in a public bathroom. Dan Aykroyd, her companion on this trip, seems shocked by this. Not that she’s trying to protect herself from germs, but because she’s not going far enough!

Suddenly, it turns out to be a commercial for Santi-Wrap, a festive and plasticky take on toilet seat covers. Not only do those two sell the product concept so well, but John Belushi as the mall Santa pushes it further by coming off as a complete disaster of a man who is probably riddled with disease.

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One of the show’s all-time best line deliveries is Belushi’s drunken, “Ho ho ho…” which has both defiant gusto and the sense that he’s seconds away from vomiting all over himself.

Mr. Robinson’s Christmas (1984)

Saturday Night Live has been a stepping stone to superstardom ever since Chevy Chase became a household name during its first season. In the 80s, Eddie Murphy’s recurring roles on SNL helped raise his profile as he eventually became one of, if not the biggest star of the decade. It was around Christmas time when Murphy’s spin on Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood became one of the sketches that came to define his tenure at Studio 8H.

Mr. Robinson’s neighborhood isn’t quite as nice as Mister Rogers’ but at Christmas time you have to make the best with what you have. Mr. Robinson was able to do that with a chunk of lettuce and a headless doll and Murphy was able to make the most of every opportunity he had on SNL.

It’s a Wonderful Life: The Lost Ending (1986)

If you’ve seen the 1946 American Christmas classic It’s A Wonderful Life, odds are you’ve been inspired by its heart-warming ending. Thanks to SNL and host William Shatner, we now have footage of the “fabled” lost ending to Frank Capra’s Christmas epic and it’s anything but heartwarming. Rather than end the film with everyone coming to George Bailey’s aid in his time of need and celebrating his lifetime of selflessness and kindness, it decides to give Mr. Potter a fate more explicit than being doomed to failure and loneliness. Phil Hartman pops in as Uncle Billy and not only remembers what happened to the missing money, but knows exactly who has it!

Dana Carvey makes the sketch as a George Bailey hell-bent on revenge. It just wouldn’t be Christmas without seeing him give Mr. Potter a beat down alongside his bloodthirsty loved ones.

Master Thespian Plays Santa Claus (1987)

Jon Lovitz’s characters were usually very hammy by design. Whether he was a pathological liar or the Devil himself, he always went to 11. One of his better recurring characters was Master Thespian, a scene-chewing Shakespearean actor who takes himself and his roles far too seriously.

In this installment, he would be playing the role of a mall Santa Claus.

Thespian doesn’t seem to have heard of Santa, but he’s down for the part. Finding out that there’s no actual script, he improvises and figures out the character via making mistakes and getting scolded by the Macy’s manager (played by Phil Hartman, choosing to base his performance on Frank Nelson because why not). To his surprise, Santa Claus actually LIKES children! These are notes a performer needs to know, man!

Seeing him play off the kids and Hartman is a blast. Speaking of which, one of the better gags is a fart joke that somehow proves how great an actor Master Thespian truly is. THANK YOUUUUUU!

Hanukkah Harry (1989)

Santa Claus (Phil Hartman) is violently ill with the flu, so it seems Christmas might be cancelled. Luckily, there is one man capable of fulfilling his obligations through the same kind of holiday magic. Hanukkah Harry (Jon Lovitz), Santa’s Jewish counterpart, is called in to help.

At its core, it’s a lengthy sketch about Jewish jokes and how lame Hanukkah is outside of it lasting eight days. Springing off of that, it actually makes for a really good, if a little touching, holiday story. There are definite laughs in there, but what was created to be a parody hits a little too close and becomes a genuine gem celebrating both holidays and the spirit of togetherness.

“On Moishe! On Herschel! On Schlomo!”

Motivational Santa (1993)

What started as a pep talk for troubled teens turned into Chris Farley’s iconic recurring character. Matt Foley, the thrice-divorced, sweaty, overweight man who lived in a van down by the river, crashed into our living rooms in 1993 and remained a fixture on SNL until Farley was fired from the show in 1995.

Sometimes a sketch is so successful that the writers are almost forced to bring one or more of its characters around again and Matt Foley was no exception. In one of the funnier times Matt Foley returned, he was hired to spread Christmas cheer as a motivational mall Santa, offering up this gem:

“‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the van Your ol’ buddy Matt fell asleep on the can. His children were nestled two time zones away, With his first wife and her husband, in sunny L.A. Matt woke up and realized with a chill and a quiver That he was living in a van down by the river!“

Though many of the same jokes and physical gags are recycled, Farley’s effort, from the painfully high pitch of his voice to crashing down the chimney, earns the Motivational Santa a place in SNL Christmas lore. 

Adam Sandler’s Hanukkah Song (1994)

Yes, we’ve heard Adam Sandler’s “The Hanukkah Song” a million times over, but we shouldn’t let that cloud our judgement. It’s one of the first clips that pops into your head when you think “SNL Holiday Sketches” and it will go down as a landmark moment when the history of “Weekend Update” is written 200 years from now. Sandler didn’t use his time to evoke images of being a Jew at Christmas, rather he chose to praise the Festival of Lights and name-drop all the famous people who celebrate it. Since debuting the song in 1994, Sandler’s updated it for his comedy albums and standup routine and given Jewish kids something other than “The Dreidel Song” to belt during during the holidays. Sandler’s clever, original moment is about as influential as it gets for any not-ready-for-prime time player.

It did lead to the movie Eight Crazy Nights, so it isn’t free from sin.

TV Funhouse: Fun with Real Audio (1997)

It’s rare for SNL to get poignant, but here’s a fantastic example. In this animated short, Jesus Christ returns to Earth and spends the first opening minutes being ignored and shoved into the background for disagreeing with televangelists who use his name to line their pockets with donations or to justify their hatred of homosexuals. These bits are, of course, animated over actual audio of said real life sociopaths. Jesus is able to give them their just desserts with his divine magic, but it bums him out.

Walking the city streets, unnoticed by the public at large, Jesus watches Christmas-themed TV through a store window and is disappointed with what he sees. That is, until he comes across Linus’ speech at the end of A Charlie Brown Christmas and we get a final moment that’s adorable, uplifting, and pretty hilarious.

NPR’S Delicious Dish: Schweddy Balls (1998)

The dry, NPR-host banter between Ana Gasteyer’s Margaret Jo McCullen — who cheerfully admits that she leaves tap water and rice out for Santa because “Christmas foods really wreak havoc on the ol’ digestive system” — and Molly Shannon’s Teri Rialto as they discuss delectable Yuletide “balls” with Alec Baldwin’s Pete Schweddy is a can’t-miss skit. The trio makes monotone an art form, while remaining dedicated to the naivety of the characters involved. (In response to Alec Baldwin’s, “But the thing I most like to bring out this time of year are my balls,” their faces barely twitch.) It’s double entendre at its finest, and never fails to leave me in stitches.

Pete Schweddy returned in another episode where he introduced the women to his hotdogs, but having them show so much interest in putting his wiener in their mouths was a little too easy a joke to pull off.

I Wish It Was Christmas Today (2000-the heat death of the universe)

On one December episode, there was a short segment of Horatio Sanz, Jimmy Fallon, Chris Kattan, and Tracy Morgan playing a catchy, albeit incredibly stupid song about Christmas being on the way. Sanz played a skinny guitar while singing, Fallon occasionally pressed an elephant noise button on the keyboard, Kattan held the keyboard while shaking his head, and Morgan danced with a look on his face like he got dragged on stage against his will. It was silly and would have probably been forgotten soon after.

Instead, they returned a week later and insisted on playing it again despite being explicitly told not to. Soon they would start playing it during non-December months to show Christmas’ superiority over other holidays. After Simon Cowell insulted the group, he sheepishly agreed that he wanted to join them and broke out some maracas. One year, when Sanz was the only one left in the cast, he replaced his buddies with Fozzie Bear, Gonzo, and Animal while Kermit the Frog danced in a way that you have to wonder if a Muppet is capable of snorting coke.

The song still gets brought out now and then, usually on Fallon’s show. It’s even been covered by Julian Casablancas and Cheap Trick of all people!

They did sing a completely different Christmas song one time, but nobody cared.

Glengarry Glen Elf: Christmas Motivation (2005)

Alec Baldwin seems to be the go-to host for classic Christmas sketches. Playing on his iconic Glengarry Glen Ross character Blake, Baldwin (in a way) reprises the role as 615-year-old “elf from the home office” sent to straighten out the subpar work of Santa’s elves. There couldn’t have been a more perfect break in character than when Baldwin says “Always Be Closing” instead of “Always Be Cobbling” as scripted. It’s a slip-up that makes for a perfect holiday sketch, full of deep-bellied laughs. 

TV Funhouse: Christmastime for the Jews (2005)

Not only is the witty “Christmas for the Jews” written by comedy legend Robert Smigel, but it’s sung by David Letterman’s Christmas angel Darlene Love. In “Christmas for the Jews,” the characters see “Fiddler on the Roof,” grab an early dinner, and enjoy dreamland Daily Show reruns. It’s an intriguing and catchy look at the other side of the Christmas season, complete with a very Rankin-Bass animation style.

Digital Short: Dick in a Box (2006)

Justin Timberlake is one of the most entertaining, versatile hosts that SNL has been gifted. A member of their prestigious Five-Timers Club, “Dick in a Box” is Timberlake’s most memorable sketch, filled with skeevy, disgusting come-ons from Andy Samberg and Timberlake, which has been viewed just millions and millions of times. In 2006, Timberlake had already impressed critics and viewers alike with his acting range in Alpha Dog, but his comedic turns on SNL solidified him as an actor. Timberlake has done a lot of impressive things in his time as an entertainer, but there are few more enjoyable (or laughable) than “Dick in a Box.”

These two R&B weirdos would return later on to sleep with each other’s moms as reciprocated Mother’s Day presents and later swear that being in a two-guy/one-girl three-way isn’t considered gay.

John Malkovich Reads ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas (2008)

As quipped by the man himself, no one emits Christmas spirit quite like John Malkovich. This admission yields the self-reflexive irony of Malkovich reading “The Night Before Christmas” to the children of SNL’s staff. Malkovich, pausing during his reading of the holiday classic, asks the children about the suicide rate rising during the holidays, talking about how shooting a home invader in California is “perfectly legal,” musing about how the tonnage of Santa’s sleigh and reindeer would (scientifically speaking) burst into flames, how in Portugal their version of Saint Nicholas steals children’s toes, as well as reciting the gem: “You know what they say about hopes; they’re what we cling to when reality has left us nothing else.” If you’re in a lighthearted Christmas mood, Malkovich’s monologue is certainly one to enjoy.

Stefon on Holiday Travel (2010)

Bill Hader was highly respected for his versatility and range during his time at SNL, but it was his improvisational skills that turned a Weekend Update bit into a must-see recurring segment. Stefon, likely the defining character for SNL during the 2010s thus far, informed New Yorkers and tourists alike of the city’s hottest nightclubs – with Hader almost always breaking down in laughter as his cue cards were frequently changed from the rehearsal to throw him off.

Stefon knew how to get weird and you can imagine he’d save some fun things for the a “classic New York holiday.” Make sure to check out the Lower, Lower East Side dump hosted by Tranderson Cooper or find a club with the right amount of Puerto Rican Screeches or Gay Aladdins. Just don’t run over the Human Parking Cones.

Stefon would return with more Christmastime insight three years later, where he’d discuss a club called [loud Tauntaun noises], founded by Jewish cartoon character Menorah the Explorer.

Under-Underground Crunkmas Karnival (2010)

Good God, I wish there were more Under-Underground Records sketches. As a parody of the Gathering of the Juggalos, we’d regularly see DJ Supersoak (Jason Sudeikis) and Lil Blaster (Nasim Pedrad) excitedly talk up huge concert events that are needlessly violent and inexplicable in their randomness. For instance, there’s the Crunkmas Karnival, which features such musical acts as Dump, Boys II Dicks, Scrotum Fire, and…Third Eye Blind for some reason.

It’s just a bunch of loud humor that goes back and forth between being stupidly hardcore and being meekly out of left field. Yes, you can go check out a “dong tug-of-war,” but you can also see a special 2D screening of the Owls of Ga’hoole or meet Spaceballs star Pizza the Hut. Not to mention the return of their most fondly remembered running gag, the endless undying and dying of Ass Dan.

This Christmas-based event will take place in February. Sounds about right.

Ornaments (2011)

Every now and then, SNL will do a sketch towards the end of the show where the guest will talk about whichever holiday is coming up and awkwardly go into one of the aspects of it, such as Easter eggs or Halloween candy. In this instance, it’s Steve Buscemi unloading a box of Christmas ornaments and commenting on each one. All the while, Kristen Wiig plays Sheila, his girlfriend who appears to be more than a little off and doesn’t quite grasp tree decorating.

Buscemi’s descriptions range from delightful non-humor to outlandish and disturbing. He might make an intentionally lame joke about one ornament before holding up another and matter-of-factly letting you know that, “I put this one up my butt.”

And somehow he’s still the straight man in this bit.

You’re a Rat Bastard Charlie Brown (2012)

This sketch is centered on Bill Hader playing Al Pacino, playing Charlie Brown. The rest of the cast turns out bang-up impressions as well: Jason Sudeikis playing Philip Seymour Hoffman playing Pigpen, Kate McKinnon as Edie Falco playing Lucy (as Charlie Brown’s drug peddling therapist, causing a holiday-blues Charlie to say, “Oh yeah…I want something to take me sky high!”), Martin Short playing Larry David playing Linus, Taran Killam doing Michael Keaton as Schroeder, and Cecily Strong as Fran Drescher as Charlie Brown’s mother, all performed in front of a baffled childhood audience.

For anyone who grew up watching Charlie Brown and Co., watching Bill Hader/Al Pacino/Charlie Brown unleash the expletive-laden “You’re gonna hold that f***ing football?!” towards Kate McKinnion/Edie Falco/Lucy, and saying, “Ow, you bitch!” after she pulls it away is absolutely to die for.

Jebidiah Atkinson on Holiday Movies (2013)

For a time, Taran Killam played Jebidiah Atkinson, a Weekend Update character based on how an old newspaper editorial was discovered that panned Abraham Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address. Atkinson, somehow still alive, would appear and read review snippets about other big speeches he hated.

One of his return appearances had him discuss holiday specials and movies. Every single one of them he hates. Every single one of them gets roasted. His vicious energy is so over-the-top that the good jokes land and the bad jokes still get a laugh from the misplaced confidence. Over these several minutes, he screams about how much of a depressing bore A Charlie Brown Christmas is, how the Grinch stole a half hour of his life, and how every time they play It’s a Wonderful Life, an angel blows its brains out.

This one is admittedly a bit dated with its biggest joke, where his distaste for Snoopy is so great that he wishes Family Guy killed him off instead of Brian. The horror from the audience still makes it worth it.

St. Joseph’s Christmas Mass Spectacular (2014)

Ah, Christmas Mass. The drum solo for every childhood during Christmas time. It’s uncomfortable and especially boring. Ergo, liven it up by framing it as a big, in-your-face event via what amounts to a monster truck rally commercial!

It’s a brilliant use of contrast. Take an event that is so mundane with so many familiar and shared experiences and treat it like it’s some extreme thing. The familiarity of the pastor making corny jokes that get the most minor of laughs is treated like a once-in-a-lifetime event. It shines a light on the weird tics of the prominent people you see at church and feels amazingly universal.

The SNL cast is fantastic here, but the MVP is Cecily Strong as the middle-age woman who is way into doing a reading in the loudest, most overly articulate speaking voice possible.

Sump’N Claus (2014)

Getting gifts from Santa Claus is great and all, but when you grow up, you realize how hard it truly is to be nice all year round. Luckily, there’s an alternative. Introduced via an extremely catchy song, we meet Sump’n Claus (Keenan Thompson), a pimp-like offshoot of Santa who not only used to work for St. Nick, but also appears to have some dirt on him.

Sump’n Claus sings several verses about people who have had breakdowns and would be thrown onto the naughty list. Sump’n Claus doesn’t care about that. You be you. Every December, he’ll still be there to hand you an envelope full of twenties and fifties. He’s the holiday mascot for adults, basically.

One of the highlights is how he mentions that Santa is not your friend as friends don’t watch you while you’re sleeping.

The Christmas Candle (2016)

Christmas has been saved by many different things: ghosts who see through time, an angel trying to earn his wings, a reindeer’s glowing nose, New Yorkers singing “Santa Claus is Coming to Town,” and so on. Then again, sometimes you need a savior for something with lower stakes.

In the form of a mid-1990s all ladies group that gives me kind of a Celine Dion vibe, we’re given a wonderful song that starts with the tale of a woman who had to get a coworker a gift for Secret Santa. She found an old peach candle in her closet and just gave her that. The second verse is a similar situation where not only is a peach candle given as a throwaway gift to an acquaintance, but it’s THE SAME candle. Yes, somehow this one peach candle is re-gifted across the globe through latter December by women and gay men who couldn’t be bothered to put thought into their presents.

Truly a miracle.

First Impression (2018)

Beck Bennett plays a guy about to finally meet his girlfriend’s (Melissa Villaseñor) parents and he’s nervous as hell. She assures him that he’ll be fine, but he really wants to impress them. Sure enough, he tries to impress them in the weirdest way by hiding somewhere in the house and speaking in a high-pitched voice in order to dare them to find him. Her parents (Jason Momoa and Heidi Gardner) are notably confused, as is she.

It’s already a strange and silly bit, but Jason Momoa shifts it into gear by suddenly being COMPLETELY into it. Removing his jacket with purpose, Momoa excitedly starts searching the house for this guy. The fact that Momoa is playing an overweight 60-year-old man is enough of a novelty, but he brings this oddball zest to the role as he starts to literally tear the home to pieces in order to get a look at his daughter’s elusive boyfriend.

The boyfriend’s plans here are both overly complicated and half-baked, culminating in an ending that’s as happy as it’s inexplicable and off-putting.

North Pole News Report (2019)

When Eddie Murphy returned to SNL, there was much fanfare. A completely solid episode, it admittedly spent too much of its runtime revisiting his old recurring classics like Mr. Robinson, Gumby, and Velvet Jones. The final sketch of the night goes full blast with his manic energy as he plays an elf eyewitness on the elf news, screaming bloody murder about a horrible tragedy. Mikey Day is reporter Donny Chestnut, looking at the destruction of a toy factory. As he tries to make heads or tails of what’s going on, Murphy bursts onto the scene, screaming about a polar bear attacking the elves and eating them like Skittles. And just screaming in general.

The best line comes from the elf (who keeps declaring, “IT DOESN’T MATTER WHAT MY NAME IS!”) bringing over one of the survivors, and noting that, “This white, teenage elf girl ran out here, straight up to me – a black elf in sweatpants – and asked me to keep her safe. That’s how bad it is!” Despite this elf being right about the situation, Donny Chestnut keeps trying to sideline him for being increasingly erratic about Santa’s potential role in the slaughter and what it means for Christmas. Even as he trips over some of his lines, Eddie Murphy is so damn precious here.

AAAAAAHHHHHHH!!

December to Remember Car Commercial (2020)

It might be in bad form to include a sketch from this very year, but man, this joke is not only long overdue, but the acting is top notch. Heidi Gardner’s barely repressed rage is something special.

You’ve seen the commercial a million times. It’s Christmas morning and someone reveals a brand new car to a loved one. As part of Lexus’ December to Remember, Beck Bennett reveals a brand new Lexus with a giant bow to his wife (Gardner) and their son (Timothée Chalamet). What initially appears as shock turns out to be fury and confusion over what is a selfish and short-sighted decision. Buying a car is a huge deal and isn’t something you don’t tell your significant other. More than that, Bennett’s character hasn’t been employed for about a year and a half and has no way of affording such a thing. The thread is pulled away, unraveling both how much of an idiot he is and how doomed their family life happens to be.

Then neighbor Mikey Day shows up and it hits another level. Beck Bennett is the expert at playing guys with misplaced confidence who haven’t come close to thinking things through.

The post The 25 Best SNL Holiday Sketches appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[atths--twice]

Happiness Triumphant

Summer has officially begun, and Mulder cannot wait to spend it with his little girl who has just completed her first year of preschool.

June 2022

School was nearly over for the year, and summer was stretching out before them like a never ending road that promised many adventures. Camp outs, staying up late, trips to the library for story hour, arts and crafts, or simply being home and doing nothing. 

Mulder had been looking forward to it for weeks, much to Scully’s amusement, even going so far as to crossing the days off the calendar with Faith. Big black X’s that made him smile, but for reasons Faith would never understand. 

The square on the calendar for the seventeenth of June, was circled and decorated with ice cream cones, happy faces, and shooting stars. No way could anyone miss the importance of the day. 

On the seventeenth, he waited at the school for Faith, pacing internally for twenty minutes as he sat in the car working at getting the high score on Candy Crush, a game he denied playing anytime Scully questioned him about the app. 

“I don’t play that game, Scully. It’s silly. You downloaded it and it showed up on my phone too, that’s all.” He would tell her as she nodded with her eyebrows raised, a look he knew all too well. 

School’s Out began to play on his phone, interrupting his game, and he shut it off. Hearing it playing, he grinned, happy he had taken the time to figure out how to set it as his alarm. 

It was finally noon and time to get his girl. He was giddy with excitement as he stepped out of the car and all but ran across the parking lot. 

He was the first one at the gate, and he grinned when he saw her face pressed to the classroom window, her blue eyes shining with happiness, and a huge smile on her face. 

She ran to him when the door opened, her dark hair flying and from the braids Scully had taken the time to put in that morning. 

“Daddy!” she shouted, wrapping her arms around his neck. “It’s the day, Daddy! It’s ice cream day!” 

“It is and so much more! No more school! You don’t have to be back here for three months! No more school! No more school! Oh… sorry Miss Cole. We, uh…” he said, catching sight of Faith’s teacher. He looked at Faith and she smiled, absolutely no help to him in his moment of awkwardness. 

“It’s quite alright, Mr. Mulder,” Miss Cole said with a smile. “If you promise not to tell anyone, at this time next week, I’ll feel the same way.” She put a finger to her lips and winked. 

He chuckled and nodded, reaching into his back pocket as he shifted Faith to his side. “This is from Dana and I. I know Faith gave you her card…” 

“Which I will treasure always. Hand print flowers are my weakness.” 

“Right. Well, we wanted you to also have a little something extra, so this is for you.” He handed her a pink greeting card envelope and smiled at her. “Thank you for everything this year. Faith has enjoyed your class and she’s really blossomed. I know you had a lot to do with it, so thank you.” 

Miss Cole sniffled and took the card with a shaky smile. “Thank you. She’s been a joy to have in class and I’m excited to see the person she continues to become.” She touched Faith’s shoulder and she dove into her arms. Miss Cole gave out a laugh which ended on a sob, as she hugged her tightly. 

“I love you Miss Cole! Do you want come and get ice cream with us? I like chocolate,” Faith asked, pulling back to look at her. 

“No… I…” Her eyes were wet and she swallowed a couple of times. “I would love to, but I have to say goodbye to the other children. You have a wonderful summer, and I’ll see you next year, okay?”

“Okay!” She slid down and went to grab her backpack and lunchbox. 

“She’s a very sweet girl. I know we’re not supposed to have favorites,” she said conspiratorially, looking at the other children. “But come on…” He laughed and nodded. 

“I agree, but I am rather biased. Thank you again. Have a great summer.” He smiled as Faith ran back to him and handed him her things, hugging Miss Cole once more. 

Taking Faith’s hand, they walked past the other parents who were beginning to trickle in to pick up their children, most of them not appearing to be as excited as he felt. But then, they did not have a blue eyed girl who had been counting down to today, her excitement nearly as high as his own. 

“Daddy, can I have sprinkles on my ice cream?” 

“Don’t you always?” 

“Uh huh. But it’s polite to ask, right?”

“It is indeed, my girl,” he said with a laugh. “It is indeed. How about today you get sprinkles and gummy bears?” 

“Really?” 

“Sure! It’s the last day of school! We are freeeeee!” He threw his head back and howled and she copied him, both of them howling to the sky and then laughing as they looked at each other. 

“Come on, my wild girl, let’s go get that ice cream.” He scooped her up and buckled her in her seat, dropping her bags on the floorboard, and waving goodbye to the school as they drove away.  

“See you next time!” Faith called and he smiled as he looked back at her in the rear view mirror; a little carbon copy of him and Scully all rolled into one little person. 

The drive to the ice cream shop took about fifteen minutes, during which she told him about her last day of school. They played most of the day and then helped Miss Cole box up the toys for the children to play with the next school year. 

“Sounds like you had fun and you were productive.” 

“What does pro-duc-tive mean?” 

“It means you worked at something and accomplished a goal. The goal was to box up the toys and help Miss Cole. You and your classmates worked together, you were productive, and you finished that goal,” he explained, glancing back at her again. 

“Oh. Yeah, we were very pro-duc-tive. I helped Elijah put the cars in the red bin and Margot helped Ryan do the instruments. Miss Cole said it was good teamwork.” 

“And she’s right, you all worked hard and got the job done, now it’s time forrrrrrr ICE CREAM!” he shouted as they pulled into the parking lot and she lifted her arms in the air in celebration. 

Walking into the shop, he let her go ahead of him, waving at the girl behind the counter, and then startling when Faith suddenly yelled out. 

“Mommy!” She said as she ran to the left and sure enough, there stood Scully, smiling as she bent down to receive Faith’s hug. “You surprised me, Mommy!” Scully laughed and met Mulder’s eyes over Faith’s shoulder. 

“Was it a good surprise?” Scully asked as Faith pulled back and held her face in her small hands. 

“The best surprise! Are you getting ice cream too?” 

“I am, my love.” Scully smiled as she brushed Faith’s hair back and kissed her forehead. “Come on, let’s pick out our flavors.” She stood up and grasped Faith’s hand, smiling at Mulder as she walked closer. “Surprised?” 

“Without a doubt,” he said, kissing her lips and squeezing her upper arm. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I couldn’t miss the most important day of the year. It’s only been on the calendar for two months now,” she teased and he smiled, kissing her again. 

“You joining us just for ice cream?” 

“Nope,” she smiled. “I took the rest of the day off. Just had to finish up paperwork this morning and I am here for it all.” 

“Well, that’s the best surprise I could hope to hear.” He placed his hand on the small of her hack and they walked over to place their order. 

Sitting down at a table, Scully stopped Faith from taking her first bite, tying her hair back first, knowing how messy she could get. 

“What happened to the braids I put in your hair this morning?” Scully asked, tucking a strand behind Faith’s ear. 

“I was Rapunzel today. She doesn’t have braids,” she responded, taking a big bite of her chocolate ice cream, a gummy bear falling from her spoon and into her cup. 

“Hmm. Can’t argue with that logic,” Scully smiled and shrugged, taking a bite of her own ice cream; chocolate with salted caramel sauce and brownie bits. 

Mulder winked at her and scooped a large bite of his ice cream into his mouth; strawberry with white chocolate sauce. Licking his lips, he watched Scully staring and leaned forward with a napkin. 

“Oh, you have a little drool there,” he teased with a smirk, wiping at the corner of her mouth. 

“Oh… you better just knock it off,” she laughed and pushed his hand away as she shook her head. 

“Daddy, here, have one of my gummy bears.” No chance to politely refuse or even lean away, she shoved a cold hard gummy bear between his lips and into his mouth. He coughed as he sat back in his seat, rolling the candy around on his tongue, letting it thaw a bit before he bit it. 

“Instant karma, I love it,” Scully laughed and Faith took another big bite, watching him chew the candy. 

“Double karma,” he said, making a face. “It’s a green one.” Scully laughed harder as Faith frowned. “Thank you honey, I love it.” Her frown changing to a smile as he kissed the top of  her head, making another face at Scully. 

They continued eating their ice cream, as Faith told them what she did on her last day; playing and having fun with her friends. 

“Miss Cole gave me a present. It’s in my backpack. Can I open it in the car?” she asked Mulder, her lips and chin covered in chocolate. He smiled and wiped her mouth and then saw the state of her hands. 

“Why don’t you and Mommy go wash up, I’ll toss out our trash, and we can go see about that present?” 

She jumped down from her chair and they went to the bathroom while he cleared their table. When they returned, she took each of their hands and they walked out to the car. 

As Faith opened her gift, a book she had loved in the classroom, Scully moved her car to a shadier spot, before getting into Mulder’s car. 

“How about we go to the children’s museum?” she suggested, as she buckled her seatbelt and Faith cheered. 

For the next two hours, Faith ran around playing with everything: the water area, the pretend city where she shopped and then scanned her groceries, the stage where she controlled the lights and sound, and the little farm area with real live chicks in a plastic covered habitat. 

Watching a puppet show, with Faith sitting front and center, Mulder and Scully sat in the back on a faux log. Sighing as the children all laughed, Mulder glanced at her. 

“You okay?” he asked, interlocking his fingers with hers. 

“Hmm? Yeah, I’m okay,” she said quietly. 

“Didn’t sound very convincing,” he replied, nudging her a little with his shoulder. She sighed and squeezed his hand, putting her head on his shoulder. 

“It’s going by so fast,” she whispered and he watched Faith, pointing excitedly at the puppets along with the other kids, telling them to look behind them. 

“Some of it, Scully. Not everything,” he said and she sighed again. “I’ve loved every age and stage of her life, but this right now, this is the best. She can express her feelings, her wants and needs, and she can understand consequences- good and bad. She’s so much fun, so intelligent, and has such a beautiful soul.” 

“Mulder,” she breathed, taking a shaky breath and sniffing. 

“Hey, I didn’t mean to make you cry. I’m sorry,” he said, letting go of her hand and putting his arm around her, pulling her close. “What are you thinking?” 

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “I love working, but I want to be at home too. I know this was my decision, and you’ve never made me feel I’ve made the wrong one, but… I don’t know. Should I have waited until she started kindergarten in a couple of years? She will be there full time then…” 

“Scully, stop, or you’ll make me cry,” he said with a heavy sigh. “I don’t even want to think about that right now. This past year has been hard enough. The three hours she’s gone, twice a week is bad enough. But all day? Five days a week?” She chuckled as he shook his head and she placed her hand on his thigh, giving it a squeeze. 

“I say, we enjoy the moments we are in, and worry later, especially on a day like today. It’s ice cream day, Scully.” He rubbed her arm and she laughed. 

“Yes, it is. Okay. No more crying. Be in the now, right?” 

“Well if we’re talking Wayne’s World, the quote is live in the now, but otherwise, you’re right.” 

“I wasn’t talking Wayne’s World.”

“Seems silly not to be, but then I suppose that means you’re right,” he said, moving his arm to clap for the end of the puppet show along with everyone else. 

“I do enjoy hearing that,” she teased, as they stood up to meet Faith. 

“I know you do,” he said, close to her ear, and he heard her chuckle. 

Deciding it was time to leave, they walked through the gift shop, telling Faith she could pick one item. Taking her decision very seriously, she walked around the shop looking at everything. Hearing her gasp, they both wondered what had caught her eye. 

She reached out toward a black picnic box covered in brightly colored planets, comets, stars, and meteoroids. All of them, save the tiny stars, had happy smiling faces. 

“That’s Earth. And that’s Saturn. Mars. Neptune. What’s this purple one?” She held the box in her hands and pointed to it, looking up at Mulder. 

“I don’t think it’s entirely accurate, but it’s pretty cute. Let’s see what’s inside, shall we?” He knelt down beside her and they unlocked it. 

Opening it, they found a tea set. Four cups, plates, and saucers, a tray to serve it on and a teapot all decorated with stars and planets. The tray had an astronaut, a monkey, and a dog wearing round clear helmets as they stood on the moon. 

“Ohhh, I love it,” she said, touching the teapot. “It has a dog on it. Like Bella. Can I have this?” 

“Absolutely! One tea set coming right up!” He stood up and handed it back to Faith. “You lead the way, my love.” She grinned and carried her purchase to the register as they followed her. 

“She already has a tea set, you know,” Scully said quietly. 

“Not one with planets,” he said just as quietly and she laughed. 

The girl at the register smiled as she rang up the tea set and Mulder handed Faith the money to pay for it which she did happily. Change given, they thanked her and walked out, Faith carrying her lunchbox with a big smile. 

They dropped Scully back at her car, with plans for her to pick up food for dinner while they went home, to put away the school things, and give Faith a bath. Scully waved as they drove away, Faith chattering in the backseat about her new tea set. 

When they got home, they greeted Bella who was very happy to see them, running around the yard and chasing Faith. She laughed as she fell in the grass and Bella licked her face, before lying down beside her, pushing her head at Faith, wanting to be pet. 

“You’re a good girl, Bella. I love you,” she told her, kissing her head and getting up to go into the house with Bella following. 

Inside, they had a ceremonial putting away of her cleaned out school backpack and lunch bag, saying thank you for the school year and they would see it in a few months. Then they went upstairs and Faith had a fun time splashing and playing in the mountains of sweet smelling bubbles added to her bath as Bella lay beside the tub keeping watch. 

Dried and dressed in her unicorn nightgown, Mulder braided her hair, though not as neatly as Scully always seemed to get them. Adding two sparkly clips, they went downstairs to open her tea set. 

“Oh, wait!” she shouted, as they had it all set up. She ran upstairs, coming back down with her alien and a small purple unicorn. “We needed more people.” She set them on the coffee table in front of the plates, as Mulder knelt down at his place. 

“May I please have some tea, Miss Faith?” he asked, holding out his tin star covered cup. 

“You may,” she said, lifting the tea pot and pouring some water into his cup. 

“Mm, it smells delicious. Which flavor did you choose today?” 

“It’s cinnamon and honey.” 

“An excellent choice,” he said, taking a small sip with his pinky in the air. She poured some into the other cups and then lifted hers to take a sip. 

“Mm, it’s very good. The honey makes it very sweet,” she said knowingly and he nodded. 

“May I have a cookie, Miss Faith?” 

“You may.” She offered him the plate of shortbread cookies, adding one to each of the plates and to her own. 

“Such lovely treats you’ve prepared today. Thank you for inviting me to such a splendid party.” 

“Daddy, you’re so silly,” she said with a giggle and he made a funny face at her. 

Halfway through their second cup, Scully came in with bags of food. Deciding on a picnic in the house, they put away the tea party, laid a blanket out on the floor, and sat down to eat their dinner. 

They each snuck bites of food to Bella who was ecstatic at their apparent new eating arrangements. Faith giggled a lot as they ate, the fun of the day seeming to catch up with her. Scully told some funny stories, thus increasing the laughter and soon they were all laughing and trying to stop, thought it was nearly impossible. 

Once they had calmed down and dinner was finished and cleared away, Mulder suggested a movie night. Something they had not seen before. 

“How about Rapunzel, since you pretended to be her today, Faith? We haven’t seen that yet, right? No wait, it’s not called that, it’s something else. What’s it called? Wrapped Up?” 

“I think you mean Tangled,” Scully laughed and he nodded. 

“Yes. Tangled. Let’s have a pajama party and watch that movie.” 

So they did. Popcorn was popped, waters brought to the coffee table, and cozy blankets gathered. The lights were dimmed as the movie started, Faith snuggled in between them, her alien in her arms. 

Fifteen minutes in and she asked at least thirty questions. Mulder paused it to try to answer them in better depth so she understood that Rapunzel had been taken from her parents and raised by the mean mommy, who did not love her, but only her hair. 

“Her hair is really long,” she said, watching the mean mommy slide down it as Mulder unpaused the movie. “Why doesn’t she cut it?” 

“Remember it turns brown, like when she was a baby. She can’t cut it or it will lose its magic,” Scully told her. 

“Oh, yeah.” 

Mulder looked at Scully and smiled as they watched her watch the movie. She did not watch much television, but when she did, she was always engrossed in what was happening. 

It was quiet for a bit as they watched the funnier bits, all of them laughing at the horse, Flynn, and Rapunzel shoving him in her closet. 

“I don’t like her mean mommy yelling at her,” she said, turning her head and hiding on Scully as she held her arm. “She’s being mean.” Mulder looked at Scully again and she stuck out her lip with a smile. 

“I like the lizard, he’s funny.” 

“He’s a chameleon, honey. He can change colors.” 

“Oh no, her mean mommy is back. I don’t like her, Mommy. She makes me sad.” 

“Do you want me to turn it off, baby?” Mulder asked and she shook her head. 

“I just want to hold onto Mommy,” she said, her head on Scully’s arm as she held it. Scully smiled as she leaned her own head down on top of hers. 

Again watching Faith more than the movie, she had become quieter, but very animated, and they smiled. She sat forward, soaking it all in, as she hid her face, covered her mouth, and stared at the television with wide eyes. 

“The mean mommy is trying to trick Rapunzel. Mommy, I don’t want to see her.” She hid in Scully’s arm, only looking when they said she was gone. 

“I like the horse, he’s like Bella. Oh, they’re at the castle now. It’s so pretty there. I like all the flowers in her hair too.” 

She got off the couch and spun around as Rapunzel danced with Flynn, actually named Eugene, and Bella barked at her as she did. Scully reached for Mulder’s hand and squeezed it, her chin scrunching as they watched her spinning around and then stopping as the music did, Eugene and Rapunzel also stopping. She stood in front of the television, watching the movie, not coming back to the couch. 

“That’s her real mommy and daddy. Is her daddy sad?” 

“Yes, he is,” Mulder said, and she turned around, her eyes big. 

“Why is he sad?” 

“Because he misses his little girl. Remember the mean mommy took her away from them when she was a baby and they have missed her very much.” 

She looked back at the movie and then came over and crawled into his lap, her head under his chin as he wrapped an arm around her. Scully moved over and he put his other arm around her as they sat silently watching the movie. 

Until Faith gasped and sat up, leaning forward. 

“The lights are so pretty. So many beautiful lights.” 

Scully leaned her head on his shoulder and took a deep breath. “Makes me think of the lanterns for my mom,” she whispered and he nodded, squeezing her arm. 

“Oh no, the mean guys are there, Daddy,” Faith burrowed back in his lap and he smiled, holding her tightly. 

“Look honey, Rapunzel figured it out. She remembers seeing the sun when she was a little baby. She knows she’s the princess that’s been lost,” he said and she turned her head to look before hiding again when the mean mommy was coming after Rapunzel. 

“Oof,” Mulder said with a groan as Eugene escaped from jail on the horse. “No chance for the royal bloodline to advance after Eugene lands on the saddle that hard.” He shifted his legs a little and Scully laughed.

“The horse is flying!” 

“Oh Daddy, I don’t like the mean mommy,” she said, leaning back against him, reaching her arm up to wrap around his neck. 

“Oh! Eugene cut off all her long hair!” 

“Damn. Pascal just straight up murdered Mother Gothel,” Scully muttered as Faith leaned forward again. 

“It’s okay, he’s a chameleon. He knows how to cover it up,” Mulder murmured and she covered her mouth and giggled. 

“Her magic hair is gone. She can’t help Eugene and he’s hurt.”  

“Let’s just see what happens, honey.” 

Faith gasped as Rapunzel’s tear fell on Eugene’s cheek and he began to glow a bright yellow before waking up, completely healed. She smiled and clapped her hands when they hugged, climbing into Scully’s lap and hugging her hard, then reaching for Mulder and hugging him too. 

“Look, her mommy and daddy are happy now,” Faith said, when the family was finally reunited. They nodded, both of them suddenly unable to speak past the lumps in their throats. She got down off the couch and danced around again as the movie ended and they wiped at their slightly wet eyes. 

“That ending just about did me in, Jesus Christ,” he muttered, thinking of how they all fell to the ground as they hugged. “Leave it to Disney, as usual.” 

Turning off the movie and television, he looked at Faith and smiled. “So, what did you think, honey? Did you like it?” 

“Yes, but not the mean mommy. She took Rapunzel away from her family. That’s not nice.” 

“No. It’s not, but she’s with them now and they’re all happy again.” 

“I don’t want someone to take me away,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. “I don't want to leave you.” 

“Oh, honey, come here,” he said, hating to see her so upset. Her eyes were the exact shade as Scully’s. Seeing her cry made him ache, just as it always did when Scully cried, and he saw such pain in the blue depths. 

Faith came over and climbed onto his lap, crying hard as she clung to him. “If the mean… mommy took me… I would be… all alone,” she sobbed and he turned to Scully for help, only to discover she had tears in her eyes as well. 

“Oh come on,” he whispered, not knowing what to do as both his girls were crying. “This isn’t fair. It’s double the blue eyes against me.” 

Scully tried to laugh but it only came out as a sob. He pulled her close and they became a mirror image of the movie, the three of them huddled together in tears. He shook his head as they cried, letting out a laugh of disbelief, at the drastic turn the evening had taken. 

“Faith, my love, no one would ever take you away from us. Not ever. Not in a million years. This was just a story, one that a person made up to be fun and exciting,” her said, above her soft cries. “Nearly every book or movie has a villain, the bad guy or girl, and a hero, the good guy or girl. For this movie, the villain was the mean mommy and the heroes were Rapunzel and Eugene. They worked together to stop the mean mommy and they saved the day.” 

“It was teamwork?” she asked softly. 

“Yes. In fact, there was a lot of teamwork. All the guys helped Eugene and then he was able to help Rapunzel.” 

She was quiet and then she sat up, staring at him with big, wet eyes. “No one will take me?” 

“No one. Daddy and Mommy would never let that happen. Or Bella. You think Bella would let anything bad happen to you?” She smiled as she looked over at Bella who was sleeping on her bed and shook her head. “No way. She’s your protector and she would bite whoever tried to do anything to you. Probably right on their butt.” 

He smiled at her and she laughed as she looked at him again. He wiped her eyes and stroked her cheeks, kissing her forehead and sighing. 

“Better now, my love?” She nodded. “And you, Mommy? Are you okay?” Scully laughed softly as she sat up. “You ladies can’t both cry like that because what am I supposed to do then? Four blue eyes filling with tears is too much for anyone, but especially me.” 

Scully sighed and stared at him, her eyes still wet as she gave him a knowing look. He nodded, aware of what and of whom she was thinking. 

“It’s not the same.” 

“I know,” she whispered. “It’s just…” 

“I know.” She sighed again and he stroked her cheek.

“Faithy, I think Mommy could use a great big monster hug.” 

Faith leaned over and Scully pulled her into her lap, hugging her tightly, murmuring in her ear. He watched them, upset that he had chosen a movie which caused sadness, but glad that it could be fixed with a hug and some extra love. 

Not wanting to end the night on a bad note, and even though it was getting late, he made a decision and suggested another tea party. Faith’s eyes lit up and they worked together to clear the coffee table. He filled the teapot with cold water and brought over one cookie each, setting them on the plates. 

Gathering around the table, they nodded at one another, stating what a glorious evening it was for such a wonderful tea party. Cookies were distributed, tea was poured, and together they smiled, lifted their cups, and took a sip. 

The happy replacing the sad. The heroes triumphantly defeating the villain.