#but i mean ... luke might /feel/ like a us small town kid who wants out in a recognizable way | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hushedhands · 3 years ago

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Challenge 83

@cecilia02 @everbeenminee Astra watching Andrew's coronation.

Astra Orders set an alarm for three o’clock in the morning, but she didn't need it. She didn't sleep at all.

Her mom had invited her to watch the once-in-a-generation event with her little cousins in Illéa Palace, but Astra had refused. Kile had offered to stay the night and keep her company, but that hadn't felt right either. Her dad had suggested not watching at all, which was cute but not really a solution. It would be weeks before footage of this faded from the news, and even then there would be anniversary specials forever. Astra might as well bite the bullet and watch the coronation that had almost been hers.

She wished her parents and her boyfriend weren’t making such a fuss about this. History was full of women who'd almost married princes and then gone home to watch them become kings. Her Uncle Maxon had left dozens of such women in his wake when he’d chosen to marry Aunt Ames, though Astra didn't have the telephone numbers of any of them. She wished Andrew had enough ex-girlfriends to make a proper club like the former Selected. It might have been nice to have someone who could understand this indescribable feeling without the need for words to name it.

It wasn't that she wanted to be married to Andy. She had no doubt at all that she'd made the right decision in calling off their relationship, and that was totally separate from the fact that she was now wildly in love with Kile.

But there was something aching in her chest as she watched the aerial shots of the city of London on the little television in her apartment in Angeles, curled up in her warmest fuzzy pajamas, hair in a messy version of her ballet bun, hands clinging to her mug of tea for dear life. Today was the day that standing by Andrew's side for his coronation went from something she wouldn’t do to something she couldn't do. She'd chosen to walk away, but this was the day that the door locked behind her.

Never was a hard word to give to Andrew, even if Kile had her Always.

The camera above the crowd panned past the palace Astra had stayed in that summer, and her chest squeezed hard. Whatever else had happened there, it had been a refuge for her at a time in her life when she’d needed it most.

It all started when she had been offered an incredible opportunity to dance for the Waverly ballet company in the summer, and an opportunity to attend an elite seminar with London’s royal ballet company in the spring, and Kile, realizing that he and Astra wouldn’t see each other for over six months, had broken up with her very suddenly.

Well, technically it had been a mutual decision. She hadn’t seen him much during his first year at school, and now she was off on her own adventures, and it seemed like a terrible time to try to make a relationship work. What if he met someone amazing at university? What if she met someone in Waverly or London? Was it fair to deny themselves new relationships and experiences just because they’d always been together? Weren’t they technically together by default, anyway?

It was a reasonable question. If you married someone you’d had playdates with for as long as you could remember, and you never even tried to date someone else, it was probably a relationship by default… right?

As she got on the plane for London, it had hit her hard that she wouldn’t have a hope of seeing Kile again, maybe for an entire year. The earliest she’d be back in Angeles was the next fall, and that’s exactly when he’d be leaving to go back to school again. And this time they wouldn’t talk to each other on the telephone almost every single day, and she wouldn’t slip secret notes in the care packages his parents sent him from home, and he wouldn’t surprise her by sitting in the audience during a matinee performance after sneaking back into town without telling her...

And maybe he never would again.

It was possible she’d cried the whole flight overseas, it was hard to remember. She must have rehydrated somehow, or she’d have shriveled up and died of the heartbreak. That time was all a blur now.

But what Astra remembered clearly, sitting on her sofa four years later, was the way she’d felt walking into that little old palace on the north side of the city and realizing that it was essentially hers for the season. It really paid to have a paranoid king for an uncle sometimes, because Maxon had pulled a dozen favors with the English royal family to get Astra somewhere safe and comfortable to live for a few months. She was technically an Illéan princess by title, so he wouldn’t hear of letting her rent a crumby apartment somewhere in the city, and besides, wherever she stayed needed to have enough room for a security detail. Still, even for a small palace, it was a palace and it was hers.

The old place had plenty of full-time staff that kept it in good shape as an estate of historical significance to the English monarchy, but Astra herself didn’t have maids or butlers, or a chef to keep her fed. At night, everyone who worked to keep the palace maintained went home, so it was only her and the security detail.

But she was allowed to order takeout from restaurants around town, so on her very first night alone she ordered enough food to live off of for a while, until she could get to a grocery store. She sprawled on a sofa in the downstairs sitting room, doodling in the notebook her Aunt May had given her for her last birthday, until there was a surprise knock on the archway in the entrance of the sitting room.

“Hello.” Andrew stood there, still in his business suit from the day, though with no tie, and with the top button undone. He looked ruffled, and in his hands he carried a large bottle of red wine. “Sorry to barge in… there isn’t exactly a doorbell in this place, and without staff to handle arrivals and departures… well, I did knock.” he awkwardly concluded.

Astra, still in her tank top and stretchy pants from the plane, would have felt severely underdressed to received a prince at a palace, except this was one of her oldest and best friends, and some of the ache in her heart from leaving Kile on the other side of the world eased away just from looking at him. She hugged him, “You don’t need to knock. It’s good to see you.”

“And you.” he hugged her back. “Ah, and here. A housewarming gift.” he offered her the wine.

“You’re just in time for dinner.”

“Am I?”

“It should be here soon. The finest spicy noodles and sautéed vegetables in the land. Although, if there’s no doorbell…”

“The guard at the gate will take it from the delivery driver and have someone bring it in.” he grinned.

“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go hunt down something to open that bottle.” she said.

A new city, a change of scenery, some delicious New Asian food, a bottle of old wine, a dear old friend… this was the recipe to get over a breakup. Astra knew it, because she already felt worlds better, just struggling to find a way into the wine bottle. There wasn’t a corkscrew in the kitchens that they could find, and this palace didn’t have its own wine cellar, which was the only other place they could think to find wine accessories. In the end, Andrew took an impressive, ancient sword off of a display rack on a wall at the top of the grand staircase and carefully poked the sharp end down until it was lodged into the cork.

Astra laughed so hard her sides hurt as she twisted the bottle out in front of her and Andrew slowly stepped backward. After a couple of tries, the cork loosened up enough that he could use brute force to pull the rest of it out.

When the food arrived, they carried it up to the top floor, to a balcony that overlooked the city, and they had a picnic of sorts.

“Where’s Lucas? You two are usually a package set.” Astra asked between bites of spicy noodles.

“Still finishing up his first year at university.”

“Oh, of course! Kile— “ She stopped abruptly, her chest squeezed tightly, her tongue fell heavy in her mouth, and she drowned the bitter taste of his name on her lips with expensive wine.

“Oh dear. That won’t do.” Andrew leant over and brushed away an errant tear from her cheek. “You mean to tell me… well, he’s safe isn’t he? He’s not unwell?”

“No, no he’s fine. He’s at school… and I’m here.”

Andrew studied her face carefully. He’d met Kile and Astra on the same day, at the same moment, so they’d been friends for exactly the same amount of time. He knew that they’d been together romantically for almost seven years now, the teenage equivalent of a sixty-year marriage. “So you’re… taking time apart?”

“We’ve decided to go our separate ways.” Astra said, the words soft and wispy in her throat. “We’re not… we’re not headed in the same direction anymore. We might never head in the same direction again. After university, he wants to see the world. And I… I might travel around for a while as a dancer, but I can’t imagine not being there for Addy once she becomes Queen… Even if that wasn’t true, we won’t have a good chance to be in the same city for at least a year… and a lot can happen in a year.”

Andrew took a large sip from his glass and then refilled hers.

“That’s really difficult, Astra… I’m so sorry. I know how much you love each other. It must be hell, knowing that you’re growing apart from the person you’re closest to in the world.”

Astra choked a sob in her wineglass and Andrew’s eyes widened, “God, I’m sorry! What a terrible thing to say—“ he sat both of their glasses safely aside and wrapped her in a warm hug.

Astra got his suit all wet from her tears, but she felt comfortable in his arms. “I’m not crying because of you, stupid.” She explained when she had the breath to do so. “It’s definitely because of him. I just… I didn’t think anyone would understand. But you do.”

“I don’t.” Andy rushed to correct her. “Not really. I’ve never experienced anything like that. The closest I can imagine is if… if I lost touch with someone in the Palace kid gang. You’re my best friends, apart from Luke, and I’ve known you forever. If I had to say goodbye to one of you, to lose you forever… it’s not even close to what you’re feeling, but just the thought hurts enough for me to know that you’re going through hell.”

Astra sniffled and collected her wineglass again, ready for more sips, content to allow herself to be comforted by her friend. “Hell has better wine than I expected, I’ll give it that much.”

“Not a bad view, either.” Andrew agreed with a small chuckle, looking out at the city.

“Didn’t expect one of my very best friends to come with me to hell.” Astra timidly admitted.

“And I’m not leaving until I get you out of it.” he’d promised.

Andrew always did have words as sweet as honey.

They drank the whole bottle that night, between the two of them. They had as good an excuse as two teenagers needed: they couldn’t find a wine stopper. Andrew offered to stay the night with her so that she wouldn’t be alone, but now that the world was blurry and warm from the wine, Astra felt delightfully sleepy. She was going to get her first good night’s sleep since losing Kile. So Andrew left, promising to bring breakfast the next morning to check on her.

He checked on her a lot.

He brought her breakfast and dinner every day, and he’d probably have brought her lunch too, except that she was always at her dance seminar during the daytime. Astra ended every night with her body pleasantly tired from dancing, a new half a bottle of wine in her stomach, and her mind full of whatever nice, easy conversation she’d had with Andrew just before bed. Her first week in England flew by.

That Friday night, Andrew appeared in the doorway to the sitting room right on schedule, two bottles of wine in hand.

“You’re mad.” Astra giggled.

“It’s the weekend.” he argued. “You don’t have to dance tomorrow, and I don’t have any public appearances to make until next Tuesday.”

“You’re off work until Tuesday? You English royals really know how to take it easy.” she laughed. She didn’t think her cousins had taken a three day weekend in their lives.

“We’ll keep the second bottle on standby, just in case we decide we want to try it.”

But of course, they were young and it was a Friday night, they definitely wanted to try it. Somewhere after the first glass of the second bottle, refilling glasses got too risky and they started drinking straight from the bottle, passing it back and forth. There was a television show on, showing a concert happening on the other side of the city in a stadium Astra could just see if she stood tall enough on the balcony.

Andrew watched her going almost en pointe to try to spy the stadium, mesmerized by her strength and balance and grace. “Can we dance?”

Astra smiled brightly. Dancing was her favorite in the world, of course they could dance! They danced in their socks to the music on the television until Andrew collapsed, out of breath, on the sofa. Astra joined him, blood pumping pleasantly fast through her veins.

“I’m out of shape!” he bemoaned.

“I’m a professional athlete, don’t compare yourself to me. You did just fine.”

“I did? Do you think I could join the ballet?” He laughed giddily.

She’d never seen him giddy like this.

Andy carried the weight of his country on his shoulders, he always had. Addy hadn’t really started bearing Illéa on her back until she was eleven or twelve, old enough to understand what was coming for her, but Andrew had always been a future king, even when he was tiny. Seeing him now, not a care in the world, laughing about joining the ballet… Astra’s heart twisted in her chest and for the first time since breaking up with Kile, it had absolutely nothing to do with him.

He had no part of this.

Astra leant forward and kissed Andrew on the warm, red cheek.

He looked at her, stunned, smile falling off his face. “What was that for?”

“I don’t know… just because. Just for you.”

“Just for me…” he’d mused.

“For being good to me. For taking care of me while I’m here. For… for being you. Yeah… just for you.” Astra nodded, this time more certain that the words made sense outside of her wine-fogged mind.

“I should be me more often.” he chuckled.

Astra blinked.

Should he?

***

There was a version of Astra’s stay in London where she pined away for her ex-boyfriend every moment she got, and maybe poured that pain into her dancing because it was overflowing from her heart and needed somewhere to go. That’s what she’d been expecting deep down. But what really happened was, she found a favorite market to buy groceries from, she found a bakery between her palace and the dance studio that kept her in much-needed carbs, she found a park with a pond where lots of locals liked to walk their dogs, which meant she got to pet a lot of dogs, and she started falling in love with the city.

And then there was Andrew.

He knew her so well, and they’d loved each other as friends for so long, and spending those mornings and nights with him felt so easy, so smooth.

And he was handsome and kind and… ugh, handsome. Astra didn’t regret kissing him on the cheek. Not even when he stood with her on the balcony a week later, watching the sunset, and she laced her hand with his.

“Are you quite alright?” he’d asked, not because she’d grabbed his hand, but just because he was still so worried about her.

“When I got here, I thought the answer to that question would be no forever.” Astra confessed. “And listen… I don’t really know who I am without Kile, he’s been a part of me for my whole life… but these past two weeks I’ve started to find out… and I like it. I like getting to know me.”

Andrew smiled down at her and squeezed her hand.

“And I like you too, Andrew.”

His smile became pained, “Astra—“

“It’s okay. You’re the next king and blah blah blah.” he laughed, because there were so few people in the world who could blah blah blah being an heir to a throne, but Astra was certainly one of them.

“It isn’t that.” he corrected her with a shake of his head. “It’s… you’re getting out of a serious relationship. You can’t like anyone yet—“

“Yes I can.” Astra scoffed, a challenging glint in her eyes, “Watch me.”

“But we’ve been friends our whole lives, too. Wouldn’t you like to like someone different? A stranger, maybe?”

“Where would I find one of those?” Astra lamented, only half-joking. Having a king for an uncle really limited one’s opportunities to meet strangers.

Andrew peered at her closely, then seemingly made up his mind all at once, saying, “Put on a dress.”

“What?”

“Put on a dress, I’ve got a surprise for you!”

Just like that, Andrew was downstairs talking to his security team and Astra was upstairs trying to figure out what dress to wear. There was a sweet springtime yellow thing… and then there was the red thing.

Astra made up her mind quickly. She chose the red thing. She chose everything that the red thing implied.

She appeared at the bottom of the stairs and Andrew’s eyes widened.

“Is this alright? I have other dresses—“

“S’perfect—“ he muttered and then cleared his throat, “Ahem, that is perfect Astra. Let us be off.”

He formally offered her his arm and she accepted with a proud smirk at the flush in his cheeks, then they ducked into his car and his driver whisked them off across town.

“What are we doing?” Astra asked after they took a turn to a part of town she’d never been to before.

“Did I not say it is a surprise?”

“Yes, but—“

“We’ve got guards, and I’ve gone to this place before. There’s no need to worry.”

“Andrew—“

“It’s where I go when I need to meet strangers.”

Astra blinked, dumbfounded.“You? Meet strangers?”

“How else am I supposed to find a queen? ” he muttered mutinously.

Astra stared over at him for a long moment, never having given it a second thought. Addy would be free to date whomever she chose, but if all else failed she could always have a Selection to find her husband. Andrew had nothing like that to choose from.

Astra was surprised when the car pulled to a stop at the backdoor to a nightclub. Could princes of England really go clubbing? But this place looked like it had tight security, and there were signs posted prominently that there were no cameras allowed on the premises. Andrew’s and Astra’s bodyguards stayed close by as they entered the club and Astra’s ears were assaulted by music so loud she could no longer hear it. All she could hear was the beat.

Andrew took her to the bar and bought her whatever drink she wanted, and then leant in close to her ear so that she could hear him say, “What do you think?”

“It’s a little loud!”

He chuckled, “About the strangers.”

“Oh!” Astra looked around as she spun the little umbrella from her pink drink between her fingers. There were all kinds of men here. Some older than her, some younger, some looked athletic and some looked bookish, and they were all having fun, losing themselves to the same beat. “What do you think?!” she yelled at him.

He looked around at the women in the room, sizing them up, and then shrugged, “Hard to say.”

“How do we meet them?!” Astra was yelling, while somehow he was able to keep his voice low and still be heard when he leaned close to her ear.

“Honestly? They usually just come up to me…” he confessed.

Astra rolled her eyes. Royals.

Sure enough, several women came up to Andrew and threw themselves at him while he and Astra waited for even one man to make a pass at her.

“Maybe you’re intimidating them away!” Astra suggested.

“Maybe so. Do you want me to go dance?”

Did she want him to go dance with one of the strange women in the club so that a strange man might come up to her and hit on her?

Not really, no. She wanted to dance with him. She liked dancing with him. More than that, she didn’t want to dance with anyone else. And she didn’t want him to dance with anyone else. She took his hand and dragged him out to the dance floor, their bodyguards hilariously close by, and they started moving.

It wasn’t dancing the way Astra was trained to think of it. There was no choreography, no gentle swell of melody to carry her movements, this was something far more basic than that. The best part was how quickly she was able to stop thinking about anything but her own breath, the sweat on her brow, and the man in front of her.

There was nothing else in the world. For as long as they could stay with the beat, there was only the beat. Endorphins that she associated with a long hard workout flooded her body, and Astra felt good. And beyond feeling good, she did not feel sad. She did not miss anybody. Not her family on the other side of the world, and not Kile. She was complete right here. All she had to do was make this last forever.

“I am not a professional dancer.” Andrew reminded her, breath coming far too fast to get that whole sentence out without gasping for air several times in the middle.

Astra giggled at him, then hugged him close, “This place is magical!” she yelled in his ear.

“Magical?”

And just to prove the point, and to express her gratitude, she pecked his lips with a kiss.

That was it, right? A kiss of gratitude?

As first kisses went, it was silly. They were both too out of breath to do more than mash their lips together for a second and then go back to gasping for air. Andrew led them away for water and after a few minutes to recover, he was ready to try again.

Astra helped him find a way to move to every other beat instead of every beat, essentially cutting the speed of his dancing in half for him. That helped tremendously. But to help him do this, she had to wrap her arms around his neck to guide him, and once he had the beat it was all much less frantic and much more sensual. This time when they kissed, it was not a silly peck on the lips.

Astra had only ever kissed Kile before, but since that was never happening again, she didn’t allow herself to think about that. She didn’t think about how Andrew was taller than Kile, and his cheeks were softer because he shaved every single morning without fail. She didn’t think about anything except how nice it was not to feel pain. When she was with Andrew, especially when she was kissing Andrew, she felt nothing but joy.

Was she using him to feel better?

If someone made you feel better and wanted to be around you, was that even using them?

They stayed at the club until Andrew was too tired to go on (and even Astra was ready to admit she was tired), and then they climbed back into Andrew’s car and rode off into the night.

Astra’s ears were ringing with the sudden silence, and they were both flushed and dripping with sweat. Astra was ready to bet her face matched the red of her dress and her hair, and was ready to feel embarrassed about that somewhere beneath her exhaustion, when Andrew slid his hand over to hers and squeezed.

She looked over at him and smiled.

It was past 2 in the morning when they got back to Astra’s palace, and Astra couldn’t believe they’d spent so many hours getting swept away like that.

“I’d do that every night if I thought my hearing could survive it.” Astra admitted as they struggled to get up the stairs, feeling distinctly like they had overcooked pasta for legs.

Astra took an ice-cold bath and then rolled her legs out to try to avert any soreness the next morning, and then she found Andrew in one of the guest bedrooms. “Thanks for the dancing… sorry we didn’t meet any strangers.” she grinned.

“I’m not.” he admitted, with complete candor.

“Well then, no future queen for you and no non-childhood friend to date for me.”

“Perhaps you could find a childhood enemy?” he suggested, and she laughed at the dryness of voice as he made the joke.

“Yes, I’ll have to make do.” she agreed.

***

The kisses felt stolen for the first week, like they were getting away with something they weren’t supposed to, but then one day Andrew showed up with Astra’s favorite breakfast, and two paper travel cups of tea, and he pecked her on the lips in greeting and it didn’t feel stolen at all. It felt as comfortable as an old sweater, and made her feel just as warm inside.

To celebrate the end of her first month in London, Astra ordered dinner for them from the same restaurant they’d eaten at on her very first night in town. He showed up looking frazzled after a long day of talking with members of parliament, but all the more pleased to see her because that stress was over now. And, of course, he brought her the same kind of wine they’d shared that first night.

Astra had bought a corkscrew weeks ago now, so they didn’t need to resort to using ancient swords to open their alcohol, which made it slightly less interesting. Astra curled up against him on the balcony overlooking the city and kissed him every chance she got.

“You’re certainly in a mood.” he noted with a smile down at her, after their fourth surprise kiss.

“I’m just glad to be here.”

“Are you?” he seemed surprised. She didn’t blame him. It was quite a turn from her first weepy night a month ago.

“Yes. I think London’s been good for me.”

And maybe she meant the city, with her new favorite local spots and the friends she was making at the seminar, but maybe she meant Andrew. Maybe she couldn’t really tell the difference, and it was all just good for her.

“I am very glad to hear that.”

“I wish I didn’t have to go to Waverly in two months.” Astra admitted. “It’s an amazing opportunity for my career, not to mention I’ll get to visit my grandparents in Carolina all the time, but… I like London.”

This time she was blatantly talking about him.

“Well… London’s not going anywhere anytime soon, I suppose.” he pointed out, fully onto her game.

She hmm-ed into her wineglass, “I suppose not.”

“And you’re always welcome in London, you know.”

Astra giggled and shook her head, surprising him with another kiss as a reward for playing along with her silly euphemism.

Later that night, when the food was stashed away in the kitchen and the wine was mostly empty, Andrew joined Astra again on the balcony as she stood there with the springtime breeze blowing through her loose, curly hair. He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

“I meant it, you know.” he said. “You could stay as long as you like. There’s a tremendous ballet company in London, perhaps you’ve heard of it.”

Astra laughed, pressing a hand to his over her stomach and turning to look up at him. “Maybe someday.”

“You’re dead-set on going to Waverly, then?”

“Well, I’ve signed a contract.” she explained.

“Ah. They shall imprison you if you break it. I understand.”

His voice was always so serious when he joked, never giving away the game. She laughed at the thought and said, “Yes, there’s a special prison for ballet dancers who break their contracts, it’s especially brutal. I hear they make you dance to jazz all day.”

This time his lips brushed the placed where her shoulders met her neck, and her breath hitched at the sensation. “I shan’t extradite you.” he concluded, his warm lips brushing her skin. “I shall keep you here, safe and sound, far away from the ballet constables.”

Astra laced her fingers with his over her stomach and said, “They’re relentless, the ballet constables. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

His lips trailed up her neck and stopped at her ear where he said softly, “I think I can manage.”

Astra’s entire body erupted in chills, and suddenly she didn’t want to continue their elaborate, jokey banter about the consequences of her actions. She turned in his arms and pressed her lips roughly to his, knowing beyond the shadow of a doubt that all she really wanted was to lose herself in the taste and the feel and the smell of him. Andrew was the only person in the world who made her not care about the future, and when his lips were on her skin that was doubly true.

It wasn’t exactly real happiness she felt when she was lying in bed with him, his sandy brown hair all ruffled, his arm slung across her like he was afraid she’d disappear in the night. True, meaningful, lasting happiness was something that required a lot of factors: feeling good about the present and hopeful about the future, and at peace with the past. Astra wasn’t at peace with her past, and she didn’t even want to think about the future, but the present… the present was so good. It was one out of three. One out of three wasn’t bad.

***

If Andrew’s parents noticed that he was essentially living with Astra that spring, they didn’t say anything about it. Maybe they just assumed that, since they were close friends, he was keeping her company and enjoying a nice, extended visit. And that was perfectly true, except that they were sharing a bed and occasionally a shower, and they shared a cup of coffee in the morning and a bottle of wine at night.

They didn’t go back to that club, but they found other ways to go out together without being photographed. There were secret tables in the kitchens of restaurants, special royal boxes in theaters, private trains to private estates, and one time there was a royal yacht. Astra was surprised that Andy had so much freedom, as the heir to the throne. Addy couldn’t have dreamed of roaming around Illéa the way that Andrew was gallivanting across his future kingdom. Sure, part of it was Andrew making sure Astra was having the time of her life— he probably didn’t usually venture away from home so much— but even so.

“Will you be able to keep this up once you’re king?” she’d asked him as they sat curled up together on a train ride returning from the south. “All this rambling.” she explained at his questioning look.

“Ah. No, there will certainly be less. But my job will be nothing nearly so intense as King Maxon’s, if that is what you’re thinking. For one thing, I’ve got parliament.”

Astra wasn't exactly sure how England’s parliament worked. She knew King Eoan set the legislative agenda, but he couldn’t pass any kind of law on his own. “I can’t believe they let you have a whole train to yourself, and you barely have to work.” she teased.

His arm was wrapped around her shoulders, and his thumb began tracing her upper arm as he said, “If you think my future job’s a scandal, you should see what our queen has to do. Host parties, go shopping, appear at events…” his voice sounded as if it was a strain to remain light and carefree. As if his words were more important than he wanted them to be.

Astra leaned her head on his shoulder. Those were all things she already did for Illéa. Well, she didn’t host many parties, but she sometimes helped her Aunt Ames out when things were especially overwhelming. It was strange to think that she had experience doing the same job as the Queen of England.

“All that, and she gets to retire young?”

“Assuming that whole heir business is sorted out sufficiently early.” he admitted.

“Oh, that.” Astra giggled.

“On the whole, it’s not a terrible job.” he said.

“No, not when you factor in the jewelry.” Astra agreed, still joking.

“Precisely.” Andrew nodded with a small smile against the top of her head.

Astra wasn’t sure why he didn’t return her joke with one of his own.

***

Though Astra very much enjoyed being swept off her feet by the prince, it was the quiet nights at the palace that meant the most to her. Sometimes, after dinner and a long, hot bath, her joints would feel well enough to practice some choreography in one of the drawing rooms. Andrew would play the piano for her, putting years of lessons to use for the first time. Sometimes her joints would not feel well enough for more dancing after a long day at the seminar, and he’d rub her battered feet and ankles until she melted into a puddle at the other end of the sofa or bed, or wherever they happened to be.

She’d ask him about his work, but he wouldn’t tell her much. Maybe he was worried about protecting state secrets, or maybe he didn’t want to worry her. Maybe he didn’t want her to see him in less than a good mood, because he was only there to make her happy. And how could she not be happy?

One night, in the middle of her second month in England, as she laid awake in their bed and brushed her fingers through his unruly hair (a sight so few had ever seen: the Heir to England with unruly hair), she pressed a kiss to the shell of his ear and said softly, “What are we going to do when I have to leave for Waverly?”

Sleepily, he’d pried his eyes open, his eyelashes fluttering against her skin. “What would you like to do?”

“Freeze this moment in amber. Live in it forever.”

“Be young, in love, and carefree forever?” he’d smirked.

“In love?” she’d hesitated, surprised. They’d only been attached at the lips for six weeks now, as impossible as it seemed. Hadn’t they enjoyed half a lifetime together already?

“Oh dear.” He’d lifted his head up so that he could look in her eyes, “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Astra shook her head, “It’s okay. I do love you Andrew.”

“Do you?” he sounded amazed.

And she did. She’d always loved him, just as he’d always loved her. They’d grown up together, perfect friends, how could she not love him?

“I’m sorry you didn’t know that already.” she let her hand fall from his hair down his spine, coming to rest on his bare lower back. She traced the shape of a heart there with her finger and he shuddered. “You’re one of the best friends I’ll ever have, and I love you.”

He smiled and returned his cheek to her chest, listening for her heartbeat. “Yes. This moment would do just fine.”

“We could freeze this moment and allow archaeologists to discover it in a few thousand years.”

“And if we don’t like the future, we could simply freeze this moment again.” he agreed.

“You don’t think you’d be bored after a few thousand years?”

He grinned, one hand tracing her ribcage lazily, “I could find a few ways to keep myself occupied.”

***

Astra didn’t notice the first time there was a photographer waiting outside of the dance studio after her rehearsals. And then, a couple of days later, when a rumor sourced to a local food delivery driver was printed in a Sunday paper saying that he delivered Prince Andrew’s favorite kind of curry to the Palace where Astra was staying a couple of times per week. She didn’t mind when Andrew suggested they stop sneaking out to exclusive clubs or restaurants around the city, because staying in was extremely entertaining.

But it was hard to miss when Andrew nervously appeared in her doorway one evening and said, instead of ‘hello’ or ‘how was your day’, “Grandmother has asked to meet you.”

Astra gaped. Queen Cerridwen, King Eoan’s mother, had never met any of the Illéan royals in-person. Maybe she’d met Uncle Maxon back before he was King, when she was still the active queen, but maybe not even then. “Me? Wh…why?”

Andrew ran a hand through his hair and ruffled it in a way that would have been funny if he hadn’t look so stressed. He sank to his knees to sit next to Astra, who’d been sitting on the floor, using the coffee table to hold her nail polish bottles as she painted her toes. “The rumors got to her.”

“Rumors… about us?”

Andrew nodded, “I’ve had the press department squashing everything the second they hear about it, and it’s bought us some time, but the rumors have been consistent for long enough now—“

“The rumors that we’re spending time together?” Astra asked.

“Yes.” Andrew looked faintly nauseous.

Astra smiled and traced his cheekbone with her thumb soothingly, “We are spending time together. We’re not being falsely accused.”

“No, I know… I think, just… I think we need to talk.”

Those were heavy words.

Kile had been the last one to say those words to her, and the outcome had been really unpleasant.

“You didn’t bring wine?” Astra noticed for the first time.

“I wanted us to keep our heads clear.”

“Are you ending this?” Astra asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“No.” Andrew promised. “But we’ve never talked about what this is before. I’ve been able to buy us a little slice of time to ourselves, but I’ve reached the end of my tricks.”

Astra looked into his eyes carefully, noticing the strain there for the first time, “You never said you had to use tricks…”

“I didn’t want you to have to worry about it. I wanted to be… uncomplicated. Simple. After everything you’ve been through, I thought that you needed simplicity.”

“I did.” she admitted, chest suddenly aching at the thought that the simple times might be gone.

He brushed an errant curl behind her ear and smiled bracingly, “I am not here to tell you that the world is ending. Merely that people have found us out. They’re asking questions that I do not have the answers to, and in lieu of my answers, they are coming to their own conclusions. Grandmother amongst the rest.”

“She wants to meet me because she knows we’ve been dating?”

Andrew huffed a breath, “It’s her way of forcing the matter at hand. When it comes to me, to dating the English Heir, there is dating and there is Dating. Courting. Something official, not just between you and I, but between us and all of England.”

Astra looked a little creeped out at the thought, “They… want in on our dates?”

Andrew rubbed his brow, “In a manner of speaking… there comes a point when I’m meant to introduce anyone I am seeing to the people of England as a potential future queen.”

“Why? It’s not like they get to vote on who stays in your bed, or in our case, my bed.”

“No, but it’s…” he seemed so uncomfortable at having to explain this to her. Probably any English girl he dated would have seen this coming a mile away and known what to expect. Astra blushed a little, feeling inadequate for the first time all spring. “It’s a bit like a small Selection, perhaps. They get to know the person their prince is dating and they get to watch me court their future queen.”

“Oh, and your gramma wants you to do that with me?” What a relief to know she was just a confused old woman who’d misunderstood.

“Precisely. Meeting Grandmother at her estate in Scotland would signal the official start to our official courtship.”

Astra felt all the tension leave her body and she smirked at him, “Your gramma is proposing marriage to me on your behalf.”

“Basically.”

“What’s she in such a hurry for? We’re teenagers.”

Andrew let out an exasperated sigh, relieved now that he could see Astra wasn’t panicking and throwing everything she owned into a bag to haul back to Illéa on the first flight out the next morning. “I don’t know. You’re a good match, obviously. My father is close with your uncle, but it would be smart to solidify that alliance with some kind of marriage.”

“Very sexy and romantic.” Astra giggled.

“Isn’t it just?” he agreed wryly. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath, “I suppose she’s worried because I’ll be king in a few more years. She doesn’t want me to have to go through that enormous transition of responsibility by myself. I suppose finding a queen would be much harder as king than as prince, too. Father’s even asked me if I want to take a few months next year and devote myself to dating full time before he begins handing off responsibilities to me in earnest. As part of a formal ascension plan.”

“What a conversation.”

“You can’t begin to imagine.”

Astra collapsed into giggles, doing her best to imagine it anyway. King Eoan asking his son if he wanted to be a full-time, 40-hours-per-week dater as part of his obligations to the crown.

“It’s good you think this is funny.” he sulked, but he only partially meant it. He was genuinely glad she was laughing instead of crying.

Fairly certain her toes were dry now, Astra stood and screwed the caps on her polish, stashing the bottles in a drawer next to her vanity. She stretched, fingers reached for the ceiling, going up on her toes, and as she came down she whisked her loose t-shirt over her head.

“Astra.” Andrew cleared his throat, forcing his eyes away from her lacy, pale blue and white bra, “Clear heads, remember?”

“I’m just getting comfortable.” she said in a voice that clearly told him she was not just getting comfortable.

He stood and she came over and loosened his tie for him. He placed a hand over hers when she made for his shirt’s buttons and said, “Do you want this to last past April?”

Astra gulped, “I wish April was forever.”

He stared at her, the only flicker of doubt coming from the small twitch of his eyebrow. “That’s not the same thing.”

“… I know.”

“You don’t have to answer me tonight, but we should talk about it. If we keep going past April, I suspect it will make the most sense for you… for you to meet grandmother.”

This time, when Astra continued with his buttons, it was a genuine effort to help him get comfortable, and not a ploy to see his bare chest. Seeing his bare chest was an undeniable bonus, though. She linked her fingers with his and dragged him towards her bed, and then she flopped down on her back and stared up at the top of her four poster canopy. “So what would happen after I met your grandmother?”

“You’d get some secret service protection.” Andrew laid on his stomach and used his finger to draw doodles on the smooth, soft skin above her navel. His breath felt warm as it puffed against her ribs, but her skin erupted in goosebumps anyway, and he pressed a chaste kiss to them. He knew the effect he had on her, and it only made him want to cherish her more.

“I’d go back to Illéa, though. To Waverly.”

“Yes. We’d coordinate that. It would probably be a less hectic place for you than in England.”

“You think England will be hectic if you announce we’re officially dating?”

Andrew huffed one dry, humorless laugh. “When they find out I’m thinking of making you their princess… sweetheart, it’s going to be a nightmare of a circus.”

“Terrifying clowns?”

“The most terrifying.” he agreed.

Astra sighed, “Then what? How long would we get to date before they’d expect you to decide whether you want to marry me or not?”

“Given the time you’d be spending in Illéa, we could get a year.”

“A year.” Astra liked the sound of that. Sure, she’d dance until her contract was up in Waverly, but then she’d come back and get to do this with Andrew for months and months. His dad might even let him date her full-time. Morning, noon, and night cuddles.

“Yes, and then…”

“And then a fairytale proposal. Would it have to be public?”

“Gosh, no.” Andrew promised. “But it would need to have a good story behind it. Take you somewhere meaningful—“

“Like the club where we first kissed.” Astra teased, running her hands through his hair.

“No, not at all.” he chuckled.

“And would I get to wear one of the crown jewels or something?”

Andrew lifted his head to look at her. “Would you want one?”

Astra laughed. It was all so completely silly. She was an eighteen year old girl! A boy was offering her a crown jewel! She laughed some more.

“Our engagement would be six months, eight at most.” he said. “That’s going to be the hardest time for you. You won’t be royal yet, but you’ll have all the expectations. Of course, you’d have everything you’d need from us. Security, education, an allowance for your clothes.”

“Mmm, clothes.”

“And then—“

“A royal wedding?”

“Yes.”

“And a royal honeymoon?”

“Of course.” he pressed another kiss to her skin, this one not so chaste.

“And then I’m your princess?”

“Until we take our oaths to become king and queen.”

“You really think I could be queen?”

“You think you couldn’t?”

“I know how hard it is on my Aunt Ames. It’s not really the life I saw for myself.”

“It’s different in England, you know. We’re smaller than most Illéan provinces, and we’ve got parliament.”

She couldn’t continue to fantasize about marrying him without understanding what he meant when he said that. “Andy, how does parliament help you?”

“Eh… help is not the word.” Andrew admitted. “It’s more that they take certain responsibilities off the monarch’s plate. Whether they do so in a manner that helps is an entirely different question. But unlike Queen America, who assists on many matters of policy and diplomacy, my mother’s job is almost entirely ceremonial, supporting my father’s efforts.”

“So do you think I could dance if we were married?”

Andrew fell quiet, wracking his brain for a way. “Not once we were engaged… I just can’t imagine that you would have time. And you’d quickly become one of the most famous women in the world… not that you’re anonymous now, just that we’re talking about a whole different stratosphere of public interest… even if we found time for you to dance in the royal ballet, it might not be safe.”

Astra hated that answer, but it made perfect sense to her. Addy had never regularly commuted into the city for any reason. Keeping her safe during recurring, publicly open performances would have been a nightmare, and Astra supposed that would be true for her too.

Astra also knew she wasn’t going to dance forever. She probably had a good ten or twelve years before retirement, and that was only if she avoided any major injuries. In Astra’s experience, injuries and pregnancies were two of the most common reasons dancers retired younger than thirty and they were both to be avoided.

“How long do you think we could put all of this off? I don’t want to stop dancing.”

“I know. I want you to dance! You’re bloody magnificent when you dance.”

“Just when I dance?” she teased suggestively.

“Other times too.” he smirked up at her. He let his face fall gently on her stomach, breathing in the smell of her body wash and then lifting his head again, “I could tell Grandmother we’re not yet ready. You could go to Waverly and come back for visits now and again.”

“Sounds like I’d miss you.”

“I’d miss you too.”

“Sounds better to me, though.”

“I suppose it must. The people mightn’t be fooled, they’ll still expect something is happening between us.”

“They’d be right.”

“But Astra… No matter what, I’ll be King four years from now. There’s no delaying that. ”

“That’s a long time, Andy.”

“I can’t… you must understand, I’d need to know for certain by then.”

“Of course!”

“Ideally… Ideally I would be married by then so that we could share the coronation ceremony.”

“So we could have a wedding earlier that fall? You’d propose that spring? That gives us a few years. That gives me time to dance.”

“But would it be enough?”

“Three years is forever, Andy.” Astra grinned down at him.

“And you’d really consider being my queen?”

“I’d consider a lot of things for blue eyes like yours.”

“They are an important part of the benefits package.” he agreed, placing an arm on either side of her and bringing himself up so that they were eye to eye. “Along with lots of travel to exotic locations. The finest champagne money can buy. Famous designers tripping over themselves to clothe you. A handful of palaces. Lots of diamonds.” he punctuated each of these offers with a deep, heated kiss and by the end Astra was absolutely dizzy and in no state to negotiate her future job benefits.

***

By the end of the week it was not just one photographer waiting outside of the ballet studio anymore, there were dozens. They were aggressive and pushy, yelling her name and constantly demanding she tell them if she was seeing Andrew. Her Illéan security detail was not pleased. The theater that housed the ballet was difficult to secure against so many persistent intruders, and there was serious discussion about whether they could even let her finish the seminar. They also discussed calling King Maxon and asking him for reinforcements, which made Astra’s stomach feel sick. She didn’t want her uncle to have to pay money and spare resources to send across the world to her all because of her love life.

It was a tense day and a half before Andrew was able to come through with security of his own to supplement her detail. It had been a tough thing to organize, given she wasn’t officially his girlfriend, but he’d found a way for her.

If Astra knew anything in those days, it was that he would always find a way for her. That had never been the problem.

There were reporters outside of Astra’s palace now, night and day, and they marked each time Andrew came or went. Instead of lounging together on the balcony overlooking the city, Astra and Andrew had to draw the curtains closed for the sake of their privacy.

“We should just tell them we’re not really dating.” Astra said. “I can’t outright lie to them.” Andrew insisted. “I can’t break trust with my people. I don’t have to confirm we’re together, but I can’t just tell them we’re not.”

“There’s got to be a way… tell them we have no intention of courting right now. That’s not a lie, is it?”

“It’s a bit transparent.” Andrew pointed out.

“Well, I’d love to hear your better idea!”

Andrew sighed into her hair. They were dancing to the music on the television, its glow the only light in her bedroom. “Maybe we break up. And I tell them we broke up.”

“You’re breaking up with me?” Astra suddenly sounded so small and vulnerable, he squeezed her tighter, “No! Not really. Not in that way. It’s just a way we can… buy you some more time before we have to fess up to anything.”

Astra didn’t want to fake-break up with Andrew. She wanted the entire world to leave them to their peace and quiet in their little palace of domestic bliss forever. What was so complicated about that?

Andrew had the idea of staying away one night to try to relieve some of the heat, but all it did was leave Astra pacing the floor alone, listening to the rumble of dozens of people camped out on the street in front of her palace all night.

Astra and Andrew were summoned by Queen Waverly the next day and sat down together on the sofa in her office.

Everything about it was embarrassing. Andy’s mother needed to know how long they had been romantic, how far their romance had gone, how serious they were about their future together, and why Andrew had turned down his grandmother’s invitation.

“Lovey, she wasn’t trying to force your hand.” Waverly told Andrew sympathetically. “What’s happening now out there… it’s going to get worse, the longer we let the media spin itself up into a frenzy.”

Astra said, “I only have a week and a half left, your Majesty—“

“Astra.” Waverly reproached the use of her title. “We’re having this discussion as family. Call me Aunt Waverly… if you’re marrying my son, call me Mum.”

Astra gulped, looking at Andrew, lost.

“We’ve only been together a few months, we don’t know—“ Andrew spoke up, until Waverly nodded and held up her hand to silence him.

“I understand entirely.” She turned her head to the side to study a giant portrait of one of Andy’s female ancestors. “Listen you two, I know that this is a complicated situation. The only thing that will help is being forthright with the people.”

“If Astra meets grandmother, the people will be demanding a proposal by Christmas.”

“Perhaps so.”

“We’re not ready for that.” Andrew was keeping a lid on his princely composure, but Astra could tell he felt hopelessly trapped by his mother and the palace and his people beyond its walls. He was ready to rattle the cages.

Waverly nodded, “Your father and I will do everything we possibly can for you, you know that. We only want your happiness. But things are getting very intense, very fast out there. That’s happening because you’re choosing not to do things the conventional way. You must understand that.”

Very intense, very fast. That was Astra’s whole relationship with Andrew in a nutshell.

“It’s just a week and a half.” Astra reiterated. “Then I’ll be back in Illéa and the press can calm down for a while.”

“The speculation won’t stop until it is addressed by us, and it might even turn ugly.” Waverly warned. “When you stop giving them fresh photograph opportunities every day at your ballet house, when there aren’t rumors flying about sightings of the two of you all over London—“

“Not true, by the way.” Andrew said.

“Some of them could be.” Astra reminded him.

“Only the very old ones. We’ve not been out in a fortnight.”

Astra nodded.

“My point is, in a vacuum of real news, someone will invent rumors to splash on their tabloids. It will be anything and everything. Abuse, affairs, pregnancy out of wedlock, Astra will be a gold digger who broke Andy’s heart one week, the next week Andy will be a womanizing fiend who took advantage of a childhood friend. Relations between England and Illéa will be on the brink—“

“They won’t!” Astra objected.

“Only in the magazines.” Waverly replied. “But we wouldn't want any hostile nations thinking the rumors were true and attempting to take advantage of the supposed rift. You see how this could spiral?”

The room fell to silence for the first time. Astra shivered just a little, “I feel like I’ve been tossed into a tornado.”

“It gets better." Waverly promised. “Once you’re proactive about telling your own story, it gets harder for the media to frenzy over half-credible unattributed rumors.”

Astra buried her face in her hands. She’d thought she’d have years before she had to tell the media a story about her relationship with Andrew. It felt wrong that the people of England were forcing an eighteen year old girl to move so quickly.

“I just need time.” Astra said into her hands.

“Right.” Waverly made up her mind and stood, “In that case, Eoan and I are inviting you to stay here with us for the rest of your visit, Astra. We’ll tell the media that we’re very much looking forward to spending time with you before the end of your trip.”

“No, wait…” Astra looked up, heartbroken that she was losing her private little palace. Would she even get to go back and say goodbye to it?

“This isn’t a punishment, sweetheart.” Waverly sighed and then tugged Astra up to standing, pulling her into a tight hug. “You’re not in trouble. Not one little bit. You’ll have more privacy here, behind our gates and with all of our guards. You’ll have one of our cars to drive you to and from the ballet, and Andy won’t be caught coming and going at all hours of the night because he already lives here… or he did before you came to town.” she said the last part teasingly to her oldest son, who had the temerity to blush at his shamelessness.

Astra felt her eyes sting with tears, “I love that palace… it’s been a good home for me.”

Waverly smiled sweetly, “You’ll be welcome to stay there the next time you come back. If you and Andrew announce an engagement, we’ll fully staff the place for you so that it’s safer. Perhaps you and Andrew could use it as your home for the time between your marriage and his assumption of the crown.”

“Really?” Andrew looked enticed by the offer.

“You’ll need to live somewhere, dear. You couldn’t live with your parents as newlyweds, it would be unbearable.” Waverly teased. “England would never get an heir that way.”

Heirs.

Hearing the queen say that word in this palace, next to the crown prince made it feel very real and very scary. Did Astra want her kids to be heirs? She thought again of Addy and Jamesy… she loved them more than anything in the world, but she couldn’t imagine raising her children for such an incredible responsibility.

Waverly continued softly, “The main thing is, we need to be very delicate here, my loves. When Andrew becomes king, he will become the head of the church. Please understand, I do not mind what you the two of you do or don’t do, so long as you are safe and consenting.”

“Mother.” Andy squirmed.

“But it would put Andrew in a difficult position, becoming head of the church, if he was seen to have a… well a marriage-style relationship with a woman who was not his wife for too long.”

“Yes, heaven forbid I have a healthy, long-term girlfriend.” Andy scowled.

“It’s the vows to God that are the issue at hand, not heaven, and you know it.” Waverly scolded his sass quietly, but efficiently.

“So we break up.” Astra concluded. “We officially break up when I go back to Illéa, and then when it’s time, I come back to England and we publicly reunite… you don’t have any church issues, and I have time to dance.”

Waverly looked between them quietly. “It might be the only option, short of scheduling dinner with your grandmother.”

Andrew looked almost as sad as if the breakup was real. Maybe he was scared it would become real once Astra was out of the whirlwind. She laced her fingers with his and squeezed, “We’ll figure this out.”

He squeezed back twice, gently.

***

That night Astra slept in Andrew’s bedroom for the first time in their entire affair.

“The maids are gonna know.”

“Everyone knows.” he snorted into her hair. “That’s why we’re here and not across town in our own palace.”

“Your parents are in the building.” she complained when his hands began wandering her body.

“Not close enough to hear anything.”

“Still… what if they have to walk by for a glass of water or something?”

“You want me to keep my hands to myself tonight?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Oh, so shall we see who can be quietest?” he brushed his fingers across her ribs and she quietly shrieked a giggle. “You are so bad at this, darling.”

“Oh yeah?” she got her revenge with vicious tickles, exploiting every sensitive spot she’d found on his body the last few months.

***

Living in the English palace was an easy adjustment for Astra. She'd grown up in Illéa Palace which, as the functioning capital building of one of the largest nations in the world, was larger and had a much bigger staff. The English palace was certainly ancient and stately, but Astra had grown up visiting the place, so at least she wasn’t too dazzled to see this for what it was.

There was no more delivery from local restaurants once those palace gates were closed, but the royal chef made sure that Andy and Astra had everything they wanted delivered to one of their rooms each night, so that wasn’t actually too much of a change. Not only that, but the maids were discrete and only came onto their floor when Andrew was at work and Astra was at the ballet for the day, so it was almost like their bedrooms magically tidied themselves up each day.

Really, the biggest change for Astra had been weeks before, when rumors had started flying and she and Andrew had stopped venturing out into London. Andrew still appeared in her doorway just in time for dinner, looking handsome and happy to see her. They still shared good meals and long baths, and a warm bed each night. But now the illusion that time didn't exist and that they could continue peacefully, blissfully existing in their little bubble forever was burst.

Since the royal palace hadn't released a statement about the gorgeous young foreign princess living in the same palace as their handsome young future king, salacious headlines were beginning to trickle from tabloids to increasingly reputable news sources. Astra and Andrew's private affair wasn’t so private anymore.

Some part of Astra had been hoping that the rumors would die down once she and Andrew had retreated into the palace, even though she knew better. But on her second-to-final rehearsal before her big seminar performance, photographers started camping out overnight at the stage door to the ballet, not just hounding Astra but harassing her fellow dancers, too. It was humiliating to think that these world-class performers, some of whom Astra had idolized for years, were getting manhandled on their way to and from work every day because of Astra’s love life. She wasn’t sure her reputation in the industry would ever recover from this. Who would want to work with her when her very presence could cause such a disruption?

She cried in the backseat of the car on her way back to the royal palace that day, but she had big sunglasses on, and at least no photographers caught her moment of weakness.

“I don’t want to be the girl who’s dating the future king. I want to be a damn good dancer.” Astra said that night, her cheek pressed to Andrew’s chest as he drew swirling designs on her bare back with his fingers.

“You are both.”

“You don’t understand… you literally can’t.”

“What?” Andrew wasn’t insulted, which was the great thing about him. He was always humble about his own limitations. “Why can I not understand?”

“Have you ever looked up to someone who was truly excellent at the very thing that you wanted to be truly excellent at?”

“Of course.”

“Who?”

“King Maxon.”

Astra rolled her eyes and lifted her head so he could see her at it. “You met him when you could still count your age on one hand.”

“So?”

“So most people never get to meet their idols, and if they do it’s because they’ve worked extremely hard to become very good at something. There are choreographers and dancers at this seminar that I’ve admired for a decade. And now my presence is turning their workplace, a place I consider to be sacred, into a hostile circus.”

Andrew frowned down at her and said softly, “Did I not promise you terrifying clowns?”

“I don’t want to bring chaos to every stage I cross.” Astra pouted.

Andrew nodded and said, “So we should announce our breakup immediately. I’ll release a statement tomorrow, and ask a friend of mine to appear in public with me tomorrow night… a woman. It won’t cure everything overnight, but it would surely alleviate some of the pressure.”

Astra stared into his eyes, then studied the line of his nose, the cut of his cheekbones, the curve of his jaw. “That’s a lot of trouble to go through just for me.”

“Astra, are you joking? You’re the one going through trouble for me.”

Astra nodded, but she dropped a kiss onto his lips anyway. “Okay, but the breakup is fake.” her lips danced over his.

His teeth gently teased her lower lip as he replied, “Yeah. I noticed.”

***

As warm and inviting as the arms holding her were, Astra had a difficult time staying asleep that night. She was nervous about returning to rehearsals the next morning, nervous about their final performance, now only a couple of days away, nervous about her new relationship with Andrew, and nervous about being nervous about her new relationship with Andrew.

At around four in the morning she slipped out of bed and tiptoed back to her suite, where she found a pitcher of water and a tray of snacks waiting for her. She spent so many hours of her day exercising that sometimes she woke up in the middle of the night ravenously, painfully hungry, so she’d requested that she be left some snacks just in case. She picked at a scone, lost in her anxieties, and her stress about not being able to sleep, until the telephone next to her bed rang so loudly and shrilly that it caused her to jump and splash some of her glass of water onto her night shirt.

“Hello?” Astra picked up the phone, hoping to hear an Illéan voice on the other end of the line. She hadn’t spoken to Addy in a few days, and it had been almost a week since her Aunt Ames or Uncle Maxon had phoned. She hadn’t spoken to her parents in longer than that, but they’d be arriving in London in less that twenty-four hours so that they could watch her final performance, so she wasn’t too desperate to speak to them.

And while the voice on the other line was Illéan, it definitely wasn’t one she had been expecting.

“Hey.”

Astra’s stomach clenched and her body flooded with adrenaline. She reminded herself to behave like a normal person and not like a lunatic when, as casually as she could, she replied, “Kile? Is that you?” like she didn’t know. Like she wouldn’t know his voice anywhere, anytime, under any circumstance. She knew his voice better than she knew her own.

“Sorry, I know it’s the middle of the night over there. …You don’t sound like you were sleeping, though.”

He would know.

Astra gulped hard, “I needed a snack.” It was a lie, but it was close enough to the truth.

“Hm. Is he there then?”

Astra felt defensive anger flare up in her chest, and only later realized that the anger was covering a sense of guilt. “So what if he is? You broke up with me—“

“Astra—“

“No, it’s okay. I’m not saying that in a mean way. I’m stating a fact. We are not together because you broke up with me, so why do you care if he’s here?”

There was a long pause and then a low groan on the other end of the phone. Astra heard a brush of fabric over his microphone, as if he’d been rubbing his face and his sleeve caught on the receiver.

“I want to know if he’s there, because I want to talk to you when you’re alone. It’s why I’m calling so late… or early, I guess.” Kile said.

Astra’s traitor heart beat faster. What did he want to talk to her about when she was alone? Was he going to apologize? Was he going to ask for her back?

It was too late, obviously. Astra had obviously moved on. Obviously. “He’s not here.”

Kile sounded relieved when he said, “Good.” and that annoyed Astra. He had no right to be relieved that she wasn’t in bed with another man. He’d hurt her in a way she’d never known she could hurt before.

She lashed out, “I didn’t want to wake him up with my snacking. But he’ll probably notice I’m gone soon, so you should hurry up and say what you want to say.”

The pained sound that snuck out of his throat with his next exhale was not as satisfying as Astra had hoped it would be. She regretted her words already. Maybe now he wouldn’t ask for her back… not that she wanted him to.

Kile said, “Let me ask you something…”

This was it. He was going to ask for forgiveness. He was going to ask her to come back to Illéa and be with him.

“What do you want more than anything in the world?” Kile said.

What was he expecting her to say? That she wanted him? She was dating the Crown Prince of England!

“Astra?”

“What do you mean, Kile?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean? For our whole lives you’ve always wanted one thing more than anything in the world. What is it?”

Oh. Astra replied almost mechanically, her voice barely above a mumble, “I want to be the Prima Ballerina for the Angeles Ballet for at least a season, maybe two.”

“And you wanted that enough that you didn’t even think about moving closer to my university, because it would have taken you away from the Angeles ballet. And not for a good reason, like that invitation you got to dance in Waverly. For no reason. For me.”

“You’re not no reason—“

“No, I’m just not a good enough reason.”

“Kile—“

“You can’t argue with that.”

“You said you wouldn’t promise to look for apprenticeships and internships in the cities where I was dancing. You said you don’t want to live in Angeles when you grow up!”

“I don’t. I’m going to go where I can do my best work.” he said plainly. “I still think you and I made a good choice to split up.”

Hearing him say that was hard. She wanted him to regret it. She wanted him to miss her like she had missed him before Andrew had swept her off her feet. Losing him had changed her and she would never be the same as she was before, and he wasn’t even sorry.

Kile continued, “I’m just saying… what was the point of drawing a line in the sand about you and me if you were just going to walk all over it for Andy?”

“What?”

“We both know that you’ll never be prima anything if you marry Andy. You told me yourself, every waking hour of a prima’s life is devoted to dancing or preparing to dance. There are no hobbies, no vacations, no date nights. There definitely isn't time to be somebody’s princess.”

“I’m already an Illéan Prin—“

“Cut the shit, Astra, you know what I mean.” Kile sounded exasperated, and she knew why. She was trying to miss his point, but he wasn’t exactly being subtle about it so dodging it was proving impossible.

“Maybe I want something else now. Maybe I want to marry Andrew.”

“Look… Andy’s not a bad guy—“ Kile admitted through gritted teeth, “But there will be plenty of not bad guys waiting for you after you retire. So if you pick him, do it because you want the life he’ll give you more than the life you can earn for yourself. And be ready to bury your dreams of being a prima ballerina forever, if you do. I know you, and I know you’re getting swept up in this—“

“Don’t talk about me like I’m some helpless little… little damsel, Kile.” Astra snapped.

“Think about it logistically. Do you want to move to the other side of the world from your parents and your little brothers? They’ll visit you as often as they can, but your visits to Illéa will always be to the Palace, to King Maxon and Addy. You won’t be able to go home again. Do you want to have to keep a royal schedule, planned months and years in advance? And you can forget being around from Addy once she becomes queen, you’ll be trapped on the far side of an ocean.”

“Kile—“ Astra tried to interrupt him because she wanted him to stop making sense.

“What about the little things? What about the weather? You’re an Angeles girl, are you going to miss the sun? You know they use different numbers for temperature over there, right? How’s it going to feel to wake up in the morning and have some maid tell you that it’s twenty-five degrees outside, so you’d better stay in the shade to keep cool?”

“Kile.” Astra laughed.

“I’m serious. You’re not just choosing a career here, Astra, you’re choosing a life: from the moment you wake up to the moment you fall asleep.” Kile paused and let out a tired sigh. “I just don’t want you to make a big mistake that you can’t undo. I know how badly you want to dance. You’re not ready for this, and even if you were, this wouldn’t be the right choice for you.”

“I’ve changed, Kile.” she wanted to add that he’d changed her. That losing him had made her someone new, someone she didn’t even know yet, but she kept that part to herself. Listening to his voice for so long that night… suddenly she found that she didn’t want to hurt him anymore.

“It’s barely been three months, Astra. You haven’t changed that much.” he promised.

Astra wasn’t sure. Sometimes change was gradual, sure, but sometimes change was all at once. Traumatic change was a sudden shattering of what came before, such that one could never go back again. That was what losing Kile had been like.

But did that mean she wanted to give up dancing and become Andrew’s princess? His queen? His wife and the mother of his heirs? Did she want to leave Illéa forever and eventually move into this palace?

She wanted all of that when she was wrapped up in Andrew’s arms.

But here, alone in the middle of the night when she had her wits about her…

She climbed back into bed and woke Andrew up with steady, gentle kisses. Everything about the love they made that morning was slow and desperate, and even though she hadn’t meant it to, in the end it felt like goodbye.

***

Astra was gone to her final rehearsals before dawn, but later that morning Andrew was true to his word and made a big announcement that he and Astra had both been secretly dating, and were now publicly broken up. He made a good show of wandering around London looking sad that day, and that night he went out to dinner with a fashion model friend, who did not mind the publicity one little bit.

There were still plenty of photographers salivating at the chance to photograph Astra looking dismal at having lost the chance to become an English princess, but at least they were leaving the rest of the dancers, and everyone else associated with the ballet, in peace.

Astra’s parents arrived at the royal palace in time for dinner that night, and Astra had a lot of explaining to do to them. King Eoan and Queen Waverly seemed to find Astra’s discomfort at explaining her affair with Andrew to her parents over roasted asparagus incredibly amusing, and possibly reminiscent of the beginning of their own relationship. It wasn’t fair, though. Andrew missed all the “fun”, making sure it looked like he was rebounding with that gorgeous model.

That night, Astra was too nervous about her impending final performance to wait up for Andrew to get back to the Palace. She could go to bed early or never at all. She drank some tea laced with a little bit of melatonin and fell asleep soon after dinner.

She woke up in Andrew’s arms, her cheek pressed to the side of his bare chest. She listened to him breathe deeply and evenly for a little while and tried one last time.

She could quit dancing.

She could leave Illéa forever.

She could raise her children to be heirs.

Her children could raise their children to be heirs.

When she died, her bones could be interred in a big old church.

Her whole life could be that easy.

God, it would be so easy.

“Andy?” she whispered.

He didn’t stir.

“Andrew?” she tried again, this time pulling away from him and sitting up in bed.

He didn’t hear her, but he reacted to the loss of her warmth, and eventually his heavy eyelids fluttered open. “Astra?”

“What time did you get in last night?”

“This morning.” He admitted, yawning widely. “I expect the tabloids will be plastered with headlines about their debaucherous future king today.”

“Was it any fun?”

“Yeah. Ellie’s great; she’s always happy to be photographed on my arm. Missed you, though.” he added, as if suddenly awake enough to worry that she was jealous.

She wasn’t the slightest bit jealous. Well, the slightest bit, but not for the reasons he would assume. Astra was jealous because Ellie could keep being photographed on Andrew’s arm for as long as she pleased, with no consequences.

“Maybe you should marry Ellie.” Astra suggested.

Andrew laughed, and it turned into a yawn. Then he explained, “Ellie’s too focused on her career right now. And anyway, she’d be far more interested in you.”

“Now that would be a tabloid headline.” Astra joked weakly.

“What’s the matter? Are you nervous for your performance? Is it because you’re leaving England this time tomorrow? Is it because you told your parents what’s been happening between us—“

“I’m not nervous.” Astra said, even though her stomach was in knots. Those weren’t nerves. That was grief. “Andy… I want to be a ballet dancer.”

Andrew sat up in bed now and rubbed the sleep from his eyes so he could focus on her. The words were familiar, but her tone was alarming. “Of course you do. You are a ballet dancer, and you’re bloody brilliant.”

“I want to be a prima ballerina.”

“Okay.”

“That sort of excellence takes years to achieve.”

“Good job you’ve been dancing since you were four years old, then.”

“Shh.” she pressed a finger to his lips so that he would stop talking back and listen to her. He complied. “I won’t be ready to be a prima for seven or eight years. I have a lot to learn. And when I’m ready, I want to be a Prima Ballerina for at least one season, maybe two. That’s every waking hour devoted to dance for two years straight. Then I want to live in Angeles and stay close to Addy in the first few years of her reign. I want to be there when she gets married and has babies, because she is great at putting on a brave face and absolutely terrible at processing the emotions that are scaring her into needing to be brave. She’s going to need me, and I’m excited to be there for her. I can’t live on a different continent than my dad. There can’t such a huge time difference between me and my mom. I can’t be a foreign queen. I don’t want to be foreign at all. Andrew… I can’t marry you.” Her cheeks were wet and her voice cracked, but she didn’t know when, in that little breathless tirade, she’d started crying.

Andrew stared blankly ahead, hugging his knees to his chest around their blanket. He didn’t look surprised. He’d known she was too good to be true all along. Finding his queen could never have been so easy, so perfect. He shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up.

“Andy, none of those reasons I gave have anything to do with you. I love you. You’re a good man, and a great partner, and you have no business being such a talented kisser when you’re so handsome. It’s overkill.” she waited for him to smile. She waited for him to do anything. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Andrew. I just can’t marry you. I’m eighteen years old, I just got control of my life. I’m not ready to sign it over to a monarchy. I would love to be your wife, Andy, but I would hate to be your queen.”

Andrew blinked hard, then looked over at her. His voice was too casual, his words were too easy when he said, “I understand entirely. I can wait.”

Astra furrowed her brow, trying to hold his far off gaze. “Wait? What do you mean, wait?”

“You want to be a prima ballerina, and you said it would take you nine or ten years to accomplish your goal. Fine. I will wait, and when you’re ready I’ll ask to marry you.”

“No, Andy—“

“I don’t mind ruling on my own for a while.”

“That’s more than a while! You’ll be king in four years—“

“It isn’t a problem.” he insisted.

“Did you hear the part about what I want to do after I retire? About living in Illéa, about staying close to my family?”

“Astra, once we’re married, you can do whatever you like.”

“But queens have responsibilities.”

“We can redefine the role to mean whatever you’d like it to mean. I don’t care. I love you, Astra, and you’re the best future queen I could ever hope for.”

Astra paused, blinking hard against the tears in her eyes. It hurt to hear him say that. It hurt to realize that he didn’t believe he deserved any better. “Andy, that’s not true. You deserve a wife who will stay by your side. You deserve a wife who adores you and would be willing to sacrifice her own ambitions to serve England. I’m not good enough to be your queen.”

“Then no one ever will be.”

“Andrew—“

“Let me wait for you, Astra, please.” His voice broke on that last work, his eyes finally meeting hers and betraying his anguish. “Let me hope. It’s all that I have left.”

Astra couldn’t figure out what would be crueler, to let him hope when she’d made up her mind, or to take that hopeless hope away from him.

So she wrapped him up in her arms and they laid down. She combed her fingers through his hair and he brushed his thumb against her ribs until her alarm clock rang and her last day in London began.

***

In retrospect, Astra should have chosen a happy, upbeat, peppy song for her exhibition. She could have flounced all over the stage and spun a ridiculous number of times on her toes, and allowed her partner to toss her all over the place with an enormous smile on her face.

Instead, she’d chosen an exhibition from a ballet about a woman mourning her dead lover, dancing with his ghost. She’d been thinking of Kile when she’d chosen it, hoping it would help her work out her feelings about their doomed childhood romance. Now she was about to take the stage of the royal ballet, with Andrew and his parents in the royal box, watching her close enough that she could see the pained look on Andrew’s face as clear as anything.

Astra and her dance partner, Geoffrey, took their place while the stage was lit in nothing but the darkest of blue lights. He laid down across on their only set piece, an enormous fake rock, and Astra settled over him in a dramatic pose of despair, arm flung over her forehead.

The first part of the dance was hers alone. Her grief, her agony, her desperation. None of it was fake. When Geoffrey arose, as a ghost, and began dancing with her, the bittersweet mixture of joy and sorrow was easy to tap into. Nothing brought her more joy than dancing, and nothing brought her more sorrow in that moment than Andrew watching her live the life she’d chosen over him.

When Geoffrey faded back into the fog upstage and left Astra alone again in the center of the stage, all the passion and desperation fled with him. The rest of the dance was small and slow, painfully precise movements timed with the orchestra just so that if she made the slightest misstep, it would be immediately, embarrassingly obvious.

But Astra did not have to fake the exhaustion and resignation her character was feeling. If she allowed herself to second guess her decision to break away from Andrew now, she’d second guess it forever. The roar of the audience as the last tremulous notes from the string section died away seemed to make a deafening contrast.

Astra was surprised to find tears had started pouring down her cheeks somewhere during that performance. Geoffrey returned and took her hand, and they bowed. As was customary for this exhibition, several members of the audience threw flowers onto the stage. From the third row, Astra’s dad threw a whole bouquet, and a little teddy bear. Astra laughed as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. Then she turned to the royal box to curtsey, perfectly observing royal protocol, and was startled to find that Andrew had been crying, too.

He tossed her a single white rose with a beautiful red satin ribbon tied around the stem, but the look on his face was resignation. He could love her with all of his heart for all of his life and still never be able to give her the kind of affirmation she got from a packed theater full of an adoring audience. He’d seen her dance dozens of times in her room at her little palace, and hell, he’d even danced with her himself. But seeing her like this in front of them…

He could wait until the oceans ran dry and the mountains fell flat, and every single star in the sky flickered into darkness… Astra was never coming back to him.

Astra spent that night with her parents, letting them gush over her and spoil her with presents, and help her pack up the life she’d made in London for the last few months. She hoped Andrew would come and say goodbye once her parents went back to the suite they were staying in, but he never appeared, and Astra didn’t chase him down because she thought he deserved to set the terms. That dance had been her goodbye to him. It was up to him whether he wanted to say goodbye in return.

The next morning, Queen Waverly was the only one in the entrance hall waiting to see the Orders family off as they left. The English Royal jet would take them as far as Carolina, where they would visit James’ family for a little while.

Astra imagined Andrew’s private car speeding out onto the tarmac to stop them. She imagined him dashing from the backseat and waving his arms to alert the pilots that they couldn’t leave until he’d said his farewells.

He didn’t come. It was easier this way.

Kenna and James stayed with Astra’s grandparents for a few days, but James had to go back to work and Kenna needed to get back to the Palace. Aunt Ames had five children, two of them under the age of six, and though they had plenty of help in that Palace, Kenna was their primary nanny, their aunt, and she missed them like crazy.

Astra stayed with her grandparents for a couple of weeks, until her contract at the Waverly Ballet began. The media frenzy around her got much better in that time, though it was impossible not to notice that things were staying hectic around Andrew as the English tabloids seemed to catch on to how severely he’d had his heart broken.

Astra wished she could take some of that public shame away.

She wished she could take some of his pain away, even as she was mending her own broken heart. Her weeks in Carolina were good for that purpose. Her grandparents spoiled her rotten, and she gave her body a much-needed break from dancing. Instead, she spent her days learning needlepoint from her grandmother, and her nights stargazing out by the pond where her parents used to sneak off on dates before Gramma Magda gave up trying to convince Kenna to marry someone from a higher caste.

When Astra packed her bags to take the short flight up to Waverly to begin yet another new life with another new ballet company, she was still wearing the beautiful red ribbon that Andrew gave her as a parting gift on that rose, tied around her wrist.

And when, years later, she sat on her sofa and watched him become King of England in front of the entire world, her fingers traced that now slightly frayed red ribbon, Andy’s last gift to her, in a familiar, much-practiced gesture.

It would have been so easy to say yes, to give in to the pressure and let herself get swept away by the English people, the royal traditions, the prince’s staggering blue eyes. It would have been a good life, too. A perfectly fine marriage.

But Astra didn’t want to be queen, and now she wouldn’t have to be, and the freedom she felt watching Andrew bear the weight of that crown was all the reminder she needed: she made the right decision. And now, despite the dull ache of longing in her chest for he boy she’d loved and left behind, she was happy. Truly happy. She was at peace with her past, content in her present, and excited for her future.

When the coronation coverage ended, Astra got ready to return to bed. She was surprised when her phone rang, but she knew exactly who it would be.

“Mom?” she said, before the person on the other line could say a word. Her little cousins would have had just enough time to be tucked back into bed by now, if Aunt May was helping. Kenna would have rushed to the phone as soon as she got the chance.

“Sweetie? How are you, little bug?”

“I’m fine, Mom, I don’t need the pet names.” Astra grinned, rolling her eyes.

“Are you sure?” Kenna double-checked.

“Yeah. I wish Andrew wasn’t alone up there. I still love him, I don’t want him to suffer. But I was nothing but relieved when they put that crown on his head and I didn’t have to put one on mine. I made the right choice.”

“I know you did, honey, but just because you did the right thing doesn’t mean you have to feel perfectly fine about it. Especially not on a night like this.”

“Honestly, Mom… my time in London feels like another life. One I’m nothing but grateful for, but not one I want to relive.”

At first, Astra’s spring with Andrew felt like it had never really happened, or like it had happened to someone else, or like it was all a fever dream: too hot, too heady, a surreal hallucination more than a fairytale fantasy. But now, with some time and space, Astra could see it for what it really was: a romantic affair with someone she could have chosen to marry, but who ultimately was not the right fit for her. On the one hand, Astra and Andrew loved each other, and their marriage would have been fine: they’d known each other forever and they each fully understood the challenges of the royal life they would have been embarking on together.

On the other hand, Astra had known what she wanted out of life since she was a very small girl. It was a hard thing to ask an eighteen year old to walk away from a guaranteed royal wedding for a chance to work very hard to one day, possibly, make her dream come true. If Astra hadn’t grown up in Illéa Palace, she might not have made the same choice. But everything she got out of her life from now on was truly hers, she was the captain of her own fate, and even if she failed and never became a prima ballerina, at least this way she’d have had the chance.

“But Mom?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t ever tell Gramma Magda that Andrew proposed to me and I turned him down. I think she would disown me.”

#challenge #Astra and Andrew Challenge #RIP your dashes if the Keep Reading doesn't work #its almost 16000 words long #one for every tear I cried breaking Andrew's heart

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mldrgrl · 4 years ago

Text

Broken Things 24/24

by: mldrgrl Rating: varies by chapter, rated R overall See Chapter 1 for summary and notes**

**Additional notes to follow in a separate post

Epilogue

There’s a bookcase in their room built by Luke Doggett that Mulder has filled with books of all kinds. He’s glad they decided to extend the bedroom out when they did the expansion because it takes up a lot of space. He’s also glad for the extra room because it means, while Katherine paces back and forth, he can follow behind and not bump into too many things.

Katherine stops suddenly and leans onto the bookcase. She moans deeply and Mulder holds her from behind and rubs her hips.

“You’re doing wonderfully,” Monica says. “Just breathe through it. Keep breathing.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to lie down?” Mulder asks. “Just for a little while.”

Katherine hisses through her teeth and shakes her head. Her forehead wrinkles and she moans again and clutches Mulder’s hand so tightly he’s sure it might break. Monica comes over and puts her hand on Katherine’s belly.

“I think having a lie down might be a good idea about now,” Monica says.

Mulder puts his arm around Katherine and moves her to the bed. He helps her to sit while Monica stacks the pillows up at the head of the bed.

“You’re the first husband I’ve had at a birth,” Monica says.

“I’m not leaving.”

“It’s fine by me if it’s fine by Katherine.”

“Don’t go,” Katherine whispers to him.

“I won’t,” he tells her.

“I need him here,” Katherine says to Monica.

“Whatever you need, you’ll have.” Monica nods and then she helps move Katherine up to the pillows and she tells her to shift down a bit and bring her knees up so she can check the baby’s progress.

The miraculous arrival of the twin fillies is the only birth that Mulder has attended in his life. He skimmed through one of Katherine’s textbooks on obstetrics to have an idea of what he might be in for, but he found it to be so terrifying he had to stop reading. It doesn’t seem possible, even though he knows it has to be.

He’s never seen his wife as scared as she’s been throughout this pregnancy. She’s been terrified of losing the baby and he understands her fears. Every night he’s gently caressed her growing belly and whispered to the baby how wonderful the world will be when he or she arrives. You’ll have your own cradle made especially for you by Luke Doggett. You’ll have your own horses to play with and one day I’ll buy you a pony with a little cart, would you like that? You’ll have all the picture books I can find and I’ll read to you every night. You’ll have the very best, most brave, most wonderful, most beautiful, most special, most loving, most fierce, most smartest Mama in all of the world. But, you just stay nice and cozy where you’re at for now. Stay until the time is right, okay?

Katherine grits her teeth and then comes up away from the pillows onto her hands and whimpers pathetically. Mulder looks at Monica who is nodding encouragingly and rubbing Katherine’s belly.

“When it grips you again like before, you go ahead and push,” Monica says. “Mulder, why don’t you give her a nice place to lean into to help.”

Mulder scoots closer so that Katherine can lean back into his chest. She’s breathing hard and there’s sweat beading across her hairline. He holds her hands and then her body grows stiff and she squeezes her eyes shut.

“Push, Katherine,” Monica says. “That’s it.”

Katherine groans and then she falls limp in Mulder’s arms. He feels the same helpless panic he felt when he was trying to help the horse drop her foal. He knows he’s utterly useless and he can’t stand to be. When Katherine’s body goes stiff again, he drops his head and starts to whisper the same things he whispered to Mary.

“You’re the only one that can do this,” he says. “But, you’re strong and you’re brave and I believe in you. You can do it.”

“Just a little more,” Monica says. “You’re doing great.”

“Almost,” Mulder whispers. “You can do it.”

Katherine lolls a little against Mulder’s chest and then she takes a deep breath and pushes again. Her face grows red with exertion and she cries out before she deflates. A different kind of shivery little cry fills the room. Monica laughs and begins toweling off the squalling infant as quickly as possible and then passes the little bundle into Katherine’s arms.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a new little filly,” Mulder whispers.

Katherine starts crying and brings the baby up to kiss her head. She has little wispy blonde curls that Mulder runs his hand over. The baby looks at him and he swears one of her eyebrows lifts inquisitively just like her mother’s.

“Look at those blue eyes,” he says.

“All babies have blue eyes,” Katherine murmurs.

“This blue? They look like the ocean.”

“Well, what are you gonna call her?” Monica asks.

“I want to name her after Mulder’s aunt,” Katherine answers.

“Oh that’s sweet. What was your aunt’s name?”

“Hortense,” Mulder answers, and then laughs at the look on Monica’s face. “Emeline was her name. But, I think we agreed on Emily Eliza if it was a girl.”

Katherine nods.

“Hey…” Mulder eases out from behind Katherine. “What day is it?”

“I heard the clock in the hall chime at midnight a little while ago,” Monica answers. “September 9th, 1888. She’s a seven. She’s going to be very contemplative.”

“It’s two years to the day from when we first met,” Mulder says.

“Only two years?” Katherine wonders. “It feels as though we’ve been together forever.”

“Forever is ahead of us, not behind.” Mulder smiles as the baby yawns and reaches out to touch her tiny hand. She curls her fingers around his with a tight grip.

↭

The year before Emily was born they took a trip to Boston with a stop in New York City to see the electrical lightbulbs that Katherine had wanted to see. She was definitely impressed by the invention, but will always prefer the softness of lamplight to the glow of a bulb. Of all people, she will be the most reluctant to modernize their home while it’s Mulder that will marvel at the on and off switches that bring light and darkness and later, he will never get enough of the telephone, sometimes simply picking up the handset to chat with the switchboard operator in town just because he can.

Three years after Emily is born, William Abbott, known by all as Liam, will come along. By then, Emily’s blonde hair will have turned dark, like her father’s, but she’ll keep her deep blue eyes. Mulder will often turn and think he sees the ghost of his sister running towards him as she grows. Liam inherits his mother’s red hair and freckles, but his father’s hazel eyes and mischievous sense of humor that keeps everyone on their toes.

Doctor Black makes Katherine an offer that Mulder tells her she’d be crazy to refuse. He sponsors an apprenticeship for her in lieu of formal schooling and after five years time, she receives her medical certificate. When he retires, Katherine takes over the practice and the lady doctor that drives her own carriage through town becomes the pride of the town.

Emily will follow in her mother’s footsteps in some ways, her interest in science and medicine apparent from a very young age, but her love of animals pulls her in a different direction. She studies to become a veterinarian. When her husband is taken in World War I, she will come back to the ranch with her own young daughter in tow, seeking the peace and comfort of her childhood.

Liam takes a keen interest in literature and tears through all the books on his mother’s bookshelf before he’s eight years of age. His favorite thing to do is to listen to the stories his father tells, ones he can’t quite determine are real or exaggerated, but that are always about how brave and strong and magical his mother is.

“Kids,” Mulder will say as they sit on the porch. “Did I ever tell you about the time your mother shot a panther?”

“There aren’t any panthers in Texas, Daddy,” Emily will tell him.

“That’s because they got wind of your mother’s aim and they all packed up and moved to Mexico.”

“Mulder, you weren’t even there.” Katherine will roll her eyes when he starts his tales.

“I had gone to Fort Worth to pick up some horses and your mother stayed behind with Pappy Melvin…”

Liam will take these stories and write them down and turn them into Fawkes Publishing House’s number one bestselling children’s series of the 1920s called Amazing Kate, about a young girl living on a ranch in the Texas plains who can do anything and everything. He marries a suffragette he meets while tending to family business in Boston. One of their sons will pen a biography of his E. M. Abbott, sending shockwaves through the literary community and winning a Pulitzer.

When the children are small, Katherine will often wonder about her sister’s and where they are and if they’ve married and if they have children of their own. Mulder will offer time and time again to track them down, but ultimately, Katherine decides against it. She has made her own family here and Monica and Susannah are close enough to her to feel like the sisters she lost. Mary Katherine Scully was her past and she has put it behind her. She is and will forever now be Kate Mulder.

The ranch is only ever moderately successful and the need for trained horses dies out with the expansion of the railroad and the popularity of the automobile. It suits Mulder fine and they simply become a haven for abused and neglected animals.

Ranch hands come and go. Trevor discovers a talent for building furniture through Luke Doggett. Mulder sponsors their talents by starting them up with a business in Fort Worth where they form a successful partnership and their furniture is sold world-wide. Richard announces one day that he thinks it’s about time he moves on, and then he just disappears. Jesse and Jimmy are offered positions as lead trainers in a traveling rodeo that they hesitate to accept, but Mulder tells them they’d be crazy not to take the opportunity to travel the country. Melvin stays with them until he passes on and they bury him beneath the magnolia tree that in twenty years time, has reached an impressive height of forty feet and blooms pink at the start of every summer.

The years go by and Mulder and Katherine will be alone on their porch sometimes, sitting side by side watching the sunset. Mulder will reach out and Katherine will take his hand and he’ll give it a squeeze.

“Just think where we might have ended up if Faithful Jenny hadn’t thrown that shoe that day,” he’ll say to her, for maybe the hundredth time since they’ve been married. “The day that changed my life forever.”

Katherine will roll her eyes at him, also for the hundredth time. “Any number of things had already changed your life forever,” she’ll say.

“But, specifically, if Faithful Jenny hadn’t thrown that shoe…”

“And if you didn’t leave Massachusetts, and if your father hadn’t sent you to live with your aunt, and if your aunt never bought you that pony for your birthday…”

“So, you agree, A leads to B, leads to C, leads to Jenny throwing that shoe.”

“I think we’d still be right here on this porch. That’s what I think.”

“Kate, are you admitting you believe in fate?”

“I’m admitting nothing.”

Mulder will smile and squeeze her hand as she twists her wedding ring around her finger with her thumb.

The End

#i wrote this #broken things #chapter 24 #MSR #AU

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dream-a-little-bigger-x · 4 years ago

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A Long Way From The Playground | Charlie Gillespie

Requested by @faithie-brock-gillespie01: Can you make one where me and Charlie go out to hang out around the town and I get pinned to the wall by man who hasn’t left me alone all day (like he attacks me when Charlie just goes to the bathroom or something) and then all of a sudden Charlie comes back and saves me by pulling the guy off. They get into a small fight and he ends up growling “mine” and pointing at the guy as I pull him back and out of the place. After I pull him out and get him home. When home I patch him up (because he has a few cuts on his face) and he ends up confessing (after I ask why he did it) that he hates to see me get hurt so he saved me. We end up confessing to loving one another.*My name: y/nMy nicknames: sweetheart, sweetie, love, Princess, queen, angel, nugget (Or whatever you can think of. )*charlies nicknames: Char, King, Baby Boy, My Prince, My Prince Charming, My Love, Babe, Sweetheart, baby, love bug, sweetie, sweetheart, my prince, baby, baby boy, sweet cakes, babe, sweetie, or even Troy (like I use it as a funny thing to mess with him, because he’s kinda like my Troy), real life Luke (because it’s again a funny thing in the relationship or like because he acts like a real life one hence the real life part), (Or whatever you can think of. )

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x Reader

Warnings: angst, sexual harassment, fight,

Words: 3,426

You’ve been friends with Charlie for ages. The first day at Kindergarten, a mean girl had pushed you off the swing during recess, and when Charlie saw this, he came up to help you. He pushed the girl off the swing she stole from you and then rushed to your side to help you up. He accompanied you to the school nurse and even stayed after the wound on your knee had been taken care of. The nurse had given both of you a lollipop and allowed you to wait in her office until recess was over. Ever since that day, you and Charlie had been inseparable. You went through life together, supporting each other’s decisions and helping out whenever the other was in trouble. It was really hard on you when Charlie went to LA to pursue his acting career, but you supported him nonetheless. This was his dream, and as a best friend, it was your duty to let him go and pursue that dream, even if that meant leaving you in Dieppe all by yourself. Your relationship never really suffered from the distance between the two of you. There were consistent FaceTime calls and constant texts, it’s almost as though he’s not even gone. The only thing that might cause disturbance is your feelings for him. You were eighteen when you first realized that you’d much rather kiss Charlie than hug him, when his otherwise platonic touches were felt everywhere. Everywhere. But, of course, you decided not to say anything because it might just ruin what you have, and what you have is really special. In 2019, Charlie asks you to come along with him to Vancouver where he’s going to be shooting Julie and The Phantoms, a Kenny Ortega project. You, being a big fan of the director and Charlie, decide to come along. You deserve a little break, and you’ve missed Charlie too much to pass up this opportunity. “Bubbaaaaa!” you shriek as you run up to him in the grand hallway of Vancouver International Airport, leaving your luggage somewhere along the way. He’s holding out his arms, ready to catch you as you jump up and into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist, clutching onto him like a koala bear. Passengers leaving or arriving give you weird looks, annoyed at the disturbance in their day, but you don’t care. It’s been months since you’d last seen this man, and you’re way too excited to be in his arms again. “Hey Nugget,” he mumbles in your hair, inhaling the fresh scent of peonies, his most favorite. “Gosh, I missed ya.” He loosens his arms a little to put you back on your feet, but you don’t want to let go yet. A chuckle vibrates through his chest and travels all the way through yours. “I missed you too, Bubba,” you say back and then let go of him. You just needed a few more seconds in his arms. After grabbing your luggage where you left it, he takes you to the apartment he’s sharing with one of his cast mates, Owen, who’s sitting on the sofa as you arrive. The tall blonde man gets up and makes his way over to you with a wide smile on his face. “Hi!” he greets, opening his arms to give you a welcome hug. “I’m Owen.” “I’m Y/N, nice to meet you,” you say back when the two of you pull away. “I’m gonna show Y/N to their room and then we can maybe get some lunch together?” Charlie suggests to the both of you. After exchanging a glance, you and Owen nod agreeingly. Charlie then excitedly grabs your hand and leads you towards one of the rooms. “This is my room, but you can sleep here and I’ll sleep on the couch,” he explains softly. Your head snaps up at this, wondering if he’s serious about his suggestion of sleeping on the couch. He’s looking at you expectantly. He is serious about sleeping on the couch. “Dude… We used to sleep in the same bed during our sleepovers in Dieppe all the time. Just sleep in this bed with me, alright?” You almost sound angry at the audacity of him suggesting doing otherwise. “Right, yeah! Of course,” he utters, his eyes lighting up, “I just-- didn’t want to force you to sleep in the same bed in case things… changed…” You let out an airy laugh, shaking your head in disbelief whilst throwing your luggage onto the bed with a dull thud. “Nothing could ever change things between us, Char,” you mutter, but in your mind know at least one reason that could change between you. You hear him chuckle as you grab an entirely new outfit from your suitcase, wanting to change out of your disgusting airplane clothes. “Can I take a quick shower before we go to lunch?” you ask, and he simply nods his head and guides you out of the bedroom and to the shared bathroom. While you shower, you think of all the possible ways this week could go. You want to tell Charlie how you truly feel. You can’t just be friends with him anymore. It’s been three years since you figured it out. You’ve spent three years trying not to scream whenever his fingers left a burning trail on your skin or when his glances made you tingle everywhere. But now you’re done trying to pretend nothing’s going on. You’re done pretending not kissing him isn’t killing you. Though the multiple possible scenarios make for a bad movie, you’re willing to at least try and see what he’s going to say or do. This could go either way. Little do you know Charlie’s having the exact same thoughts, only he’s saying them out loud to Owen, one room over. “You gotta tell them, man. There’s no way you’re gonna be able to hold out much longer,” says Owen to his distressed friend, “This is making you crazy.” Charlie doesn’t disagree. It is making him crazy. Maybe this week might give him some clarity as to what to do about this entire situation. Once you’re ready, the three of you head out into Vancouver to grab some lunch. While Charlie and Owen bicker about which restaurant would be best to take you to, you give yourself the opportunity to look around, rewarding your eyes with the beauty that is West End Vancouver. The difference between Dieppe and Vancouver is fascinating, to say the least. It’s funny to you because wherever you go or turn in Dieppe, there’s a natural flair to the streets, while everything in Vancouver is made of brick. Or at least this street is. “What about sushi, Y/N?” Owen asks you, making you snap out of your thoughts. “Ooh! I love me some sushi!” you reply, your mouth already salivating at the thought alone. “Told ya, Char,” he says to Charlie, “Who’s really their best friend, huh?” Charlie playfully punches the blondie in the shoulder, inducing a laugh from him. “All right, kids, where’s this sushi place? I am hella hungry!” you exclaim, interrupting their banter. They both point to a building on your right. You’re now looking at a townhouse, all brown bricks and teal framework around the windows and balconies at the top, whilst the ground floor has a black finish and black canopy with the sushi bar’s logo on it in big, white lettering. Before you can say anything else, the two have pulled you inside already, finding a spot near the back. Charlie slides into the booth next to you while Owen takes the opposite side. The waiter’s quick on his feet and brings you a menu and asks what you want to drink straight away. All three of you order some sodas, and then the waiter leaves you to choose. While you’re scanning the menu for something you like, you can feel a pair of eyes burning your skin. You look up for a moment, locking eyes with a guy that doesn’t look that much older than you. Awkwardly, you shoot him a smile before turning back to the menu. You look up again every now and then because you want to check if he’s still looking, and every time, he is. By the third time, he shoots you this disgusting smirk that sends physical shivers down your spine, shaking your entire body from head to toe. “You okay?” Charlie asks, feeling you shiver. “Yeah, just got the chills,” you reply, not wanting to make this a dramatic thing. It’s just a man staring at you creepily. Nothing you haven’t experienced yet. That’s what you get for wearing such extravagant clothes. “I’m ready to order, what about you guys?” you change the subject quickly, more for yourself than anyone else. You need to focus on other things so as to not feel too uncomfortable. The three of you order your food, and you start to ask the boys some questions about their new project together, and you even ask Owen about his show Knight Squad. You did watch that with your younger siblings when it ran on Nickelodeon. All of it helps keep you occupied and not at all thinking about the creepy man that’s still there. “I gotta go in for a fitting, but I’ll see you guys at the apartment later, okay?” Owen says after lunch, scooting out of the booth. “Can you cover my part of the bill, Char? I’ll pay you back later.” The boy next to you simply nods his head. “Kay, thanks. See you later, Y/N,” he offers you a wave before leaving the joint and leaving you and Charlie by yourself. “Can we go?” you ask when you notice Creepy Guy again. “Yeah, sure,” Charlie replies and scoots out of the booth. “Are you okay? You’ve been fidgety ever since we got here…” Of course he’d notice your change of demeanor. The Creepy Guy’s eyes on you at all times has made you quite nervous. “Oh, no, yeah… I’m fine,” you try to smile as convincingly as possible. “I gotta go to the toilet real quick, I’ll be right back, okay?” You slowly nod your head, unsure if it’s such a good plan to leave you by yourself with Creepy Guy just a few feet away. At first, you can keep your nerves at bay by pulling your jacket on and tugging at your shirt to make sure nothing’s on show. Then, you decide to take your phone out and aimlessly scroll through social media. It’s not like you’re actually picking things up from the things people posted since you’re trying to listen if there are any feet approaching. Your ears betray you today as there’s a tap on your shoulder. Hoping and praying it’s Charlie, you slowly turn around, only to find Creepy Guy in front of you with that disturbing smirk on his face. Chills run down your spine again as your thumb blindly finds its way to your contacts in your phone. You know Charlie’s name is at the very top of your recent calls, ready to be pressed in case of emergencies. “Hello, Gorgeous,” Creepy Guy says, “Noticed your two boy toys left you all by yourself, thought you could use some company.” He’s shuffling closer and closer, his breath hot and foul on your lips as you’re backing away until you feel the wall behind you. You’re frantically looking around for someone to notice and help you. A waitress behind the counter has a phone pressed to her ear, and you’re praying she’s calling the police. “What’s wrong, Angel Face? Are you n--” he’s cut off and pulled away from you all of a sudden. You have to blink your eyes a couple of times before you could properly see again. The whole situation made you black out for a couple of seconds. But now, your eyes land on Charlie, punching Creepy Guy in the face and getting hit a few times in return. For a moment, you’re frozen to the floor. Firstly because seeing Charlie fuming and punching a guy is kind of hot, and secondly because you’ve got no clue what to do. “Charlie,” you finally manage to bring out and place a hand on his shoulder. He turns his head at you, dark and angry eyes softening at the sight of your scared expression. “Let’s go,” you whisper, and grab his hand. “Hey, are you okay?” the waitress asks when you pass her, “I just called the cops, they’re gonna be here soon.” You glance at Charlie, his face all beaten up and bloody from the impact of Creepy Guy’s fist. “They’re gonna want you to make a statement.” “Fine,” you sigh. You wished you could forget about this whole thing quickly, but the girl just wants to help. “Could I get your first aid kit to take care of him first though?” You point at your best friend’s face, and the girl nods her head. “You can do it in here,” she says, beckoning you to follow. She hands you the small box and then leaves the two of you alone as though she knows you need some privacy. You sit Charlie down on the chair and perch yourself on the table next to it whilst going through the first aid kit. It’s silent for a while as you’re cleaning up the cuts on his forehead and cheeks. “Why’d you do that, Charlie?” you mutter, frustrated that his hot-headedness got him into this mess. He hisses as the disinfecting product you’re dabbing on his wounds starts stinging. “I hate seeing you get hurt, Nugget. Seeing that man practically groping you sickened me to my stomach. It hurt me as much as it hurt you, Y/N,” he exhales sharply and grabs your wrist to stop you from undeliberately hurting him some more. “Babe, I need to clean out these wounds,” you grumble, trying to wriggle your hand loose. “I’m fine, Y/N. They’ll heal,” he tells you, though you know those wounds are hurting. “No, Char. They’ll infect if I don’t clean them out properly,” you cup his face on one side, softly rubbing your thumb against his cheek. “You’re gonna have to grin and bear it, baby. Let me take care of you, okay?” His eyes soften as does the grip on your wrist. You continue cleaning up the wounds in silence, only Charlie’s soft hissing filling up your ears. “There you go,” you whisper when you’re finally done, “You’re as good as new.” Charlie offers you a thankful smile, which you return quickly before getting off the table to throw the used gauze into the bin in the corner of the room. When you turn around to return to the table, Charlie’s right behind you, making you jump out of your skin as you didn’t expect him to be this close. “Jeez, Bubba, I didn’t hear you sneak up,” you say in a hushed voice while clutching your heart. He’s staring down at you, his twinkling eyes flicking from yours to your lips and back. “What?” you ask softly. Your brain is going a mile a minute and your heart is pounding out of your chest. Besides hugging him, it’s been a while since you’ve been this close to him. You’d almost forgotten what that did to you. “I just--” he visibly swallows a lump, and then a smile plays at his lips, “Remember that first day we met? When Jade pushed you off that swing?” Though you’re confused as to why he’d bring that up, you can’t help but smile. “I still have a scar on my knee from that fall,” you reply, remembering the day clearly. “I thought you were super sweet to stand up for me. I even found it a little funny when you pushed Jade off the swing in return.” A chuckle escapes from him. “Yeah, Miss Edwards didn’t find it quite as funny,” Charlie adds. “But I knew from that day on that you were gonna be special to me, Y/N. Gossipping at the nurse’s office about who we liked and didn’t like, our mutual love for coca cola lollipops and The Rugrats.... I just knew I never wanted to be friends with anyone else in my life.” Your lips turn up into a tender smile at his sweet words. “But things have changed, haven’t they?” Your smile disappears at this. Where is this going? “I’ve been trying to find the right words to say this, but I could never come up with anything that could even come close to how I’m feeling…” he lets out a shaky breath, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of help. “Charlie… What are you getting at?” you ask, the fear taking over your voice with a quiver. “I might totally ruin our friendship with this, but I have to tell you because it’s driving me crazy…” Your eyebrows furrow, worry growing within you. “Charlie, stop babbling and just tell me what you wanna say! This is kinda nerve-wracking!” you raise your voice a little as a nervous chuckle breaks up the words ever so slightly. “Y/N,” he scoffs, “I’ve been in love with you since we were eighteen, and no, I didn’t get that from a One Direction song, though I’m pretty sure that one would’ve been accurate to sing to you right now. So, I’m just gonna quote that…” Your breath hitches in your throat at his confession. The thing you’ve been so afraid of for years is something that’s been bothering him too. At the exact same time. “Long before we both thought the same thing,” he continues, still in his normal speaking voice until the musician in him comes up. “To be loved or to be in love. And all I can do is say that these arms are made for holding you, oh. I wanna love like you made me feel… When we were eighteen…” He stops singing and looks at you for any sign of reciprocation. You’re frozen to the floor in absolute shock. This is what you’ve been dreaming about for so long and now that it’s finally here, you’re not even saying anything. “Y/N? I-- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. I should’ve just kept these feelings to myself. I totally ruined everything now, didn’t I? I--let’s just forget about this whole thing, yeah? Just wake up tomorrow as if nothing ever happened. It’s okay, I--” You finally spring into action. But instead of saying anything, you simply grab him by his shirt and pull him into you, pressing your lips to his in a passionate kiss. He’s startled at first, but quickly melts into your lips and lets his hands find their way to your face. “I’ve been waiting for three years, scared you didn’t feel the same…” you whisper as you pull back, finally having found the words. “We’re both so stupid, Bubba.” He chuckles softly before kissing you again. “We literally could’ve been doing this for three whole years!” you exclaim, shaking your head in disbelief. “Yes, Princess, I know. Now, shut up and kiss me, we’ve got three years of this to catch up on.” A smile tugs at your lips as he removes the remaining space between your lips again. You’re a little too caught up into the kiss, you don’t even notice the knock on the door. “Guys, the--” you break apart, wide eyes staring at the door where the waitress stands with a sheepish smile. “Sorry… The cops are here,” she throws her thumb backwards. “Ugh, right…” you groan, but Charlie takes your hand and leads you out into the sushi bar again. During your statement, he stays with you at all times, holding your hand and watching you closely with a sad smile on his face. He hates the fact you have to go through all of that again as if you didn’t go through enough already. “That’s all we need from you, miss Y/L/N,” the officer says after a while. “You’ll hear from us soon. You can go home now. As for you, mister Gillespie, I’d do something about that anger of yours.” Charlie curtly nods his head before taking you out of the restaurant. The two of you head back home, and once there, you immediately head into the bedroom. There’s a lot of catching up to do from those three lost years. Your friendship has come a long way from the playground.

Taglist: @hannahhistorian92 @marinettepotterandplagg @thequirkybookaholic @bookdealer5 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @hemmingsness @iainttakingshitfromnobody @ifilwtmfc @angryknightstatesmantrash @kiss-themoongoodbye @rudysbay @thedarkqueenofavalon @caitsymichelle13 @calamitykaty @wiselight @parkeret @lukeys-giggle @gingerxarmy @lovesanimals @lolychu @perfectlywrongformend3s @luckylouiebug @camiladelrio98 @myfriendscallmebeans @kcd15

#julie and the phantoms #julie and the himbos #jatp #charlie gillespie #charlie gillespie fic #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie imagine #charlie gillespie au #Luke Patterson #reggie jatp #jeremy shada #alex jatp #owen joyner #julie molina #madison reyes #18 #One direction

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jusvibbbin · 4 years ago

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Right Place, Right Time

Luke Skywalker x Reader

//Anonymous request and my first non Star Trek fic! Enjoy!

//TW: Brief descriptions of blood and murder

You rolled over, half-asleep, and where there should have been the shape of a Jedi master, there was only empty space. You slowly opened your eyes and looked at the sunlight dancing across his pillow. You rolled slowly onto your back and thought absentmindedly about the events that brought you here. Brought you to him.

You were crouched behind a low wall as stormtroopers continued to fire upon the small mining town you lived in. Blood stained your clothes, your own mixing with that of your slaughtered mother and sister. The empire had been crippled but they were far from eradicated and now they were eager to take their frustrations out on any rebel sympathizers. Your family had just been simple cannon-fodder, target practice even. Your face was sticky with tears and the blaster wound in your stomach was making it difficult to breathe. You wanted to stay, to defend your town. But as blood continued to pool beneath your shirt, you realized you would just be another easy target. You angled yourself Northeast, towards the closest major city and began to walk. Walking had turned into hunched limping, turned into almost crawling. After hours of trekking through freezing rain, you finally collapsed just outside the city. You shivered against the biting wind and closed your eyes.

You woke up in a place you didn’t recognize. You sat up slowly, touching your stomach before jerking your hand back in pain. You lifted your shirt to see the wound had been closed up but it would leave a large scar. You looked around the small room. It was sparse, with only the bed you laid on, a chair by the door and a window near the bed. You gathered your strength and pulled yourself up to look out the window. You were deep inside the city, seeing nothing but tall buildings and ships flying in and out. You gently lowered yourself again as the door swooshed open. Holding a bowl of something, was a man with dirty blonde hair and piercing blue eyes.

“Glad to see you’re awake,” he said and offered you the bowl. You took it cautiously and inspected the soup inside.

“The doctors weren’t sure you’d live through the night. But I knew you looked like a fighter.” He sat down in the chair near the door. “Would you tell me about how you got that?” He gestured towards your stomach.

You recounted the attack on your town as the man listened. He didn’t ask you any other questions, and when you had finished he simply took the empty bowl and left. You sat there, confused and a bit afraid. You knew nothing about where you were or who that man was. Sure he helped you get fixed up but you certainly weren’t in the hospital anymore. He could’ve helped you just to get a better price for you at a slave market. You were too weak to get out of bed, let alone mount an escape; your several hour trip had made sure of that. Out of options, you lay down again to rest.

As the days went by, the man continued to visit you. He would ask you questions about yourself and in return he answered one question from you each time. He chuckled when you asked if you were a prisoner and told you that you were free to leave at any time. You learned on his third visit that his name was Luke and he was a rebel. You thought his name sounded familiar so when he came again you asked if he was a Jedi master.

“And what would you know of Jedi masters?” he said, smirking slightly.

“I know that a Jedi master helped take down the Empire,” you said.

Luke just nodded and took his leave. Once you were feeling stronger, you ventured out of your room to find you were in a little apartment of sorts. A tiny kitchen, one bathroom, a living space and only one bedroom. He was sitting in the living room, reading something when you walked in. He looked up at you and smiled.

“Now that you can move around, we have something to discuss.”

“I don’t have any money,” you said quickly, looking down. “I can’t afford to pay you back for all your kindness.”

“I know,” Luke said. “That’s why I want to know if you’d be willing to come with me.”

You looked up in surprise. What would a Jedi master want with you?

Almost as if he was reading your mind he said, “I want to build a school. To help train other Jedis in the ways of the force. I thought I could do it alone but...” he trailed off, looking out the nearby window onto the bustling street below. He looked back at you.

“Building it will take time. Time that might be wasted if I don’t start locating students. My offer is this: You come with me, help me find a place to stay and start building the school while I gather pupils. Or you leave tonight, no debt owed and you forget you ever knew me.” With that, Luke stood and walked out the door.

You sat down in front of the large window and thought about the options he presented you with. You had nowhere to go. No family left anywhere and no real skills to get a job. If you stayed here you’d probably end up with a job that didn’t pay enough to live off of or run into some unsavory characters. Luke hadn’t done anything to make you distrust him yet and if he really was a Jedi he wouldn’t ever hurt you. You decided your best move was to accept his offer.

Once you told Luke your answer, he began planning for you to leave that night. He brought you some fresh clothes and as you changed, he packed. When you were ready you followed him to a launch bay where he was storing his ship. You looked in awe at the X-Wing.

“R-2? You ready to fly?” he called up to a droid in the ship. The droid beeped back rapidly and Luke laughed.

“You mean (Y/N)? They’re a friend,” he said to the droid before shooting you a smile.

You felt yourself flush and you busied yourself looking at his ship.

Luke and you squeezed into his ship and set out to find the perfect planet.

After travelling for a few days you had finally found a place Luke was satisfied with. Yavin 4. Apparently it was suggested by a friend of his, but he wanted to be sure it was exactly what he was picturing.

You began building the minute you got there. Luke helped you gather materials and you constructed the main training area. It took four days but no doubt would’ve taken longer if not for Luke force abilities. It was amazing to see him in action, lifting incredibly heavy things with the flick of a finger. You looked at him and he just smiled.

After a week, he took off in his X-Wing, leaving you to build the dormitories with the help of R-2. A month and seven dorms later, he returned. You waited eagerly to see who he had found, but when he exited the ship, it was only him. You made him dinner that night and you both ate in silence. Luke hadn’t said one word since getting back and you were starting to worry. You could tell he was disappointed even if he didn’t show it.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, your voice making him look at you.

He gave you the tiniest of smirks and said, “It’s fine, the food isn’t that bad.”

You gaped at him before laughing out, “Big talk coming from someone who didn’t help cook it!”

“But see if I did help, it would’ve been a lot better,” he teased, eliciting a laugh from both of you this time. You nudged him lightly with your elbow and he nudged you back before it turned into a playful shoving match. You gave him a particularly hard one and he slipped off the bench you were both sitting on. You cackled with laughter then, tears brimming in your eyes. He looked up at you and kicked the bench while you were doubled over, causing you to fall almost on top of him. He caught you and you steadied yourself on his shoulders, looking deep into his eyes. You felt your face heating up and in an effort to brush it off you began to laugh. Luke chuckled too and used the force to put you on your feet. You looked at him in shock as he stood.

“That felt… ” you started and then stopped, unsure of how to describe the feeling.

“Someday, I’ll make you fly around,” Luke said with a grin.

You grinned back at him, heart thumping at how close he chose to stand next to you. He walked you to the little hut you had made for yourself and wished you a goodnight. That night you dreamed of soaring through the sky, Luke never too far behind.

He left again the next day. You finished the rest of the building in another month and began decorating with things here and there. At the start of the next month, he returned with a child. He was small and green with big eyes and pointy ears. Luke told you his name was Grogu and that he would be his first student. After this Luke began to find more and more kids like Grogu, and soon the school had six students, eager to learn. He took a break from searching to begin their training and you certainly didn’t complain about having him around more. While Luke trained the children, it was your job to cook and to watch over them whenever he left. They were all polite and pretty easy going, you just had to watch Grogu around the food.

As the months continued, Luke and you got closer, spending time together during meals and after the children went to bed. Although you weren’t Jedi material, you worked with Luke to calm the raging storms inside of you, letting go of your anger and hate. As he taught you that, you slowly broke down the walls he had built up so long ago. One night, after a particularly long day of training, Luke decided to forgo your meditating in favor of telling you about his past and his family. About his brush with the dark side of the force and the anger that used to live inside of him. He spoke of the death of his father and mother and your heart ached for him. You moved from where you were across the fire and, sitting beside him, you pulled him into you and laid his head against your chest. Slowly he wrapped his arms around you and you felt him relax in your embrace.

You stayed like this for what felt like hours until Luke removed himself from your grasp and stood up. You worried that you had been too forward until he extended his hand down to you. You took it and he walked with you to your little hut. You started to enter, expecting him to say goodnight and leave but he tugged you back to him to place a gentle kiss on your lips. Before you could react he was already gone, halfway towards the small hut of his own.

Little moments like this began happening more and more until he stopped going to his hut altogether. And if you woke up early enough on some mornings, he would still be there, holding you against his chest.

You smiled at your memories and got out of bed. You pull on your clothes and wander towards the dining hall to start preparing breakfast. They would be done with morning training soon. You patted R-2 when he rolled into the kitchen and he assisted you in setting the tables. You had just finished the food when the children came filing in. You served the children and they sat to talk and eat their food. You served the last child and realized that Luke still was not there. You left R-2 to watch the kids as you headed outside to find the Jedi master.

You walked around a building and stopped. Luke was standing watching the sunrise. You turned to leave not wishing to disturb him when you suddenly felt your feet leave the ground. You gasped as he moved you to float in front of him, meeting eye to eye. He smiled as he set you down then wrapped his arms around your waist. You placed your hands against his chest and kissed him and you both settled in to watch the sunrise.

#star wars #luke skywalker #luke skywalker x reader #the mandolarian #oneshot

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jackiebuckley · 4 years ago

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If it Stings Let it Burn (chapter two : & your flannel cured)

word count: 3,107

Warnings: mentions of f**d and kidnapping

Admin note: leave a comment or send in a yellow heart to my inbox to be added onto the tag list for the next chapter ! :) heres the official first one. I’m so excited for you to read this. look for a longer one coming soon !!

Summary: “It's more of a prison if you ask me.” but before it could have been questioned, she marched over to the door, knocking as she hit her fist against the door. “Mom it's Lorelai.” she spoke, and though there was a tinge of something in her that Hotch could see but he didn't want to profile this woman, at least not yet. [...] read more here: XXX

Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.

- Robert Frost

What was there to expect from a place where everyone knew one another? Here was definitely a safety net. A sense of wonder where everyone knew everyone in their community. Home is a place where usually it doesn't matter how many walls or how many stickers lay on the back of a minivan. Representing each child. Instead though it seemed to be people. Different ones showing different personalities. From the woman who taught ballet who called Reid "Sugar." To the man at the news-stand asking for any information that could be given for this case. You could tell this was the perfect place to grow up. Nothing fell apart. Until it all did. Seemingly in one go. Piece by piece shattering beneath you.

Hotch sat in the small dining area, discussing different items of the case with members of the team. "These abductions don't seem to have a pattern to them in correlation to when they were done. We don't know for sure the innkeeper's daughter has any part in this." JJ offered from where she was sitting on a counter. The chef of the inn brought out cupcakes which made for happy team members.

"But we also don't know for sure that she isn't playing a part in it." Morgan offered back. Messing with his pencil, tapping it against his notebook as they sat down. They had absolutely no direction for this and despite being in town for less than a day, members of the team thought that with a small town like this. They would have had something by now. As Hotch went to object or say anything to move them along. In walked Lorelai Gilmore. Bright-eyed as she looked at them. Her eyes showed compassion and warmth to the team of complete strangers who were as lost as anything else.

"So! Can I offer you anything? Tea...coffee. stories of stars hollow. Answering your questions. If you need to know anything. I'm here to help." She spoke the words. And before Hotch could speak, asking where her daughter might be. Rossi beat him to it.

"Actually Miss Gilmore. Could you show us where your daughter might be?" He asked and Lorelai's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.

She took a second before she spoke. "If you have questions for her. She'll definitely answer those. Good kid. Great kid actually — and I'm not just saying that because shes MY KID. LOCATION. RIGHT. Shes at my parent's home, just outside of the town…" she spoke and JJ seemed to have gotten the information from that. Even though the brunette seemed to have spoken 9000 miles per hour. "Which I can take you to...now." she offered.

“I’ll ride with Lorelai, Emily, why don't you come with us,” Hotch stated, making a statement even though his words truth be told sounded questioning.

In the Gilmore truck there was a moment where if Hotch wasn't here with the team, he realized he wouldn't even know of its existence. It nested quietly among everything going on in the world. This was the kind of place Haley wanted to raise Jack in, too bad he couldn't find himself listening to that, and lost her in the process. The road was nice and sturdy despite the recent snow that frosted over. There was something magical to all of it, but it was an eerie kind of magic, like when you don't know what is going to happen. But you know something is. The anticipation builds up within you, it bubbles and keeps itself going. But whenever you dare ask what is to come, fear happens and you're afraid to break the chain.

Everything seemed quaint and small about this area until you saw the home belonging to Richard and Emily Gilmore. The walls were high, it was a clean shade of creme and had perfect scenery lining those walls. This was the kind of place that made castles feel small and made homes tremble because they knew there wouldn't be a way to compare. “Nice home.” JJ mumbled to Derek who nodded. The agents almost missed a hum of a noise from Lorelai who stated

“It's more of a prison if you ask me.” but before it could have been questioned, she marched over to the door, knocking as she hit her fist against the door. “Mom it's Lorelai,” she spoke, and though there was a tinge of something in her that Hotch could see he didn't want to profile this woman, at least not yet. When one of the maids answered the door that's when they got a deeper look into the home. “Mom, wheres Rory?” she asked, and while she didn't sound annoyed or even angry. She did still seem weirded out, was it being in her childhood home? Was it the fact her daughter could be in trouble and they needed to get this figured out?

“Well hello to you dear.” Emily Gilmore spoke, holding her wine glass in her hand. “She's in with your father. Why do you ask?” she asked taking a sip from the glass.

She ran a hand through her hair before speaking, “I ask for the FBI agents who are currently sitting in your front room.” she stated, raising a brow. Emily Gilmore's face paled, the natural blush fading away before she sighed.

“I’ll go get her now.”

Within a few moments, Rory walked out in her clothes from earlier that day. She had come to work on something with her grandfather. She offered a concerned doe-eyed look before walking over to the agents who sat circled in the room. “Morgan, Reid,” he told the two who took it as a signal to go question the youngest Gilmore.

Lorelai listened to her mom drone on and on about the bad press that this would bring to the neighborhood newspaper. She sighed as she listened to it, looking intensely at her glass of water that sat in her hand “mom. It's not like I WANTED them to come and question Rory. I don't exactly like this much either.” she stated as she took a drink from the glass. Rory was a good kid, also couldn't keep a secret to save her life. So even if there was something Rory was hiding from them. She would spill it in no time.

“You know we have the young leaders gala tonight,” Emily spoke to her daughter. “This is a BIG deal in these parts.” she offered and Lorelai rolled her eyes. She knew this was a big deal, she had been dragged to a few of those when she was Rory's age. Then she had Rory. None of those teens wanted to be there, she knew this. She was once in their shoes.

“I know, and we’ll be out of here soon. As soon as they finish questioning my child, or she gets arrested. Whichever comes first I guess.” she said, receiving a shocked and disgusted gasp from Emily.

One of the agents entered the room, the one she thought was Rossi but truth be told they all blended together. She knew there was a Jareau somewhere in there. And a Garcia but she thought that was the one on the phone. “We didn't find anything, we’re heading out.” he spoke, and she nodded. Taking a deep breath as she walked out the room. Every time she left this house, she left something behind. As she went to leave though, she heard a conversation that perked her ears.

“Well if it isn't Emily.” Rossi spoke as he crossed his arms.

“Dave Rossi,” she replied back with a small cross looking smirk on her face.

“Always knew I’d run into you again. Didn't think it would be under these circumstances,” he noted and she nodded.

Lorelai listened to them talk for a few moments, and as Rossi left. She approached him “so you're my almost daddy.” she said and noticed a glare coming from the man.

The ride back to Stars Hollows was quiet as they entered back into the small town. Maybe there was more to what was happening than met the eye for a place that seemed to have heart. What secrets did it hold?

"Are you hungry?" Lorelai asked them from the driver's seat. "We could show you Luke's?"

"He makes the best burger," Rory added in as Lorelai let out a happy hum.

The agents looked to one another. "I mean, I could eat?" JJ offered and Reid and Derek made their own comments of 'agreed' because truly they hadn't been too worried when it came to food since arriving in town.

Luke’s Diner, definitely looked as if it belonged straight out of an old Hallmark Christmas movie. It was cute and had a charm to it. To JJ who was raised in a small town it felt like home. But to Hotch he didn't know what to think as he viewed the area. He looked to Lorelai who talked to the man he assumed was the famous ‘Luke.’ The thing that caught his eye was the young man who entered the room. He had a certain air to the way that he walked. How his eyes were dim and looked like they had seen enough battles throughout his life. Hotch had seen this look in his own eyes far too often. “Who is that?” he asked after a moment. Pointing in the direction of the young man.

“That is Jess. He’s Rory’s boyfriend.” Lorelai stated before eating one of her fries.

“What can you tell me about him?”

“He came here a few months ago and is staying with his uncle, Luke. His mom sent him here due to his rebellious nature and outbursts.” she continued.

“Is he trouble?” Hotch dared to ask.

Lorelai took a deep breath before looking at the other. “If you think he had any part in this case, think again. He might be trouble and I might not be his biggest fan. But he had NO part in this.” she finished, “and I’m standing up for him, that is something I didn’t see coming.” she mumbled while taking a drink of her coffee.

“I didn't mean to imply…” he offered and she threw her hand as to say ‘don't worry about it.’ “Spencer, what can you tell about the young man on the stool?” he asked, pointing to the boy sitting next to Rory.

He took a second to examine the boy. From the way he stood to the way he dressed. “Well from the crumbled and rolled book in his back pocket I can tell that he’s more careless with his belongings. From the crumbled flannel he’s wearing and the denim jacket with paint on the sleeves he doesn’t care much for his appearance. He stands with a stature, as to say he doesn't care much about his reputation but with the playful movements he’s taking over there he cares for her deeply.” he finished. Hotch nodded, before looking to Rossi to see if the older man had anything to add.

“Whatever the kid said,” Rossi said with a shrug.

Well, that answered that…

“This rebellious nature needs to stop Aaron.” his grandmother shouted to her grandson from where he was standing. He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked at his grandmother. “You're lashing out, falling asleep in classes?! This isn’t the kid that I know so well.” she continued on. In some ways she was right, he knew better than this. Always had, he knew exactly what was needed. But things were getting tough at home, his father’s constant pushing into what he needed to do in his future. To his mother and her habits.

He was home for the break from his boarding school, and if he was honest. He didn't want to go back. He was missing so much and didn't like that much either. So in a way his rebellious nature was him wanting things to go back to before. ‘

“Aaron,” his grandmother’s voice faded out into the voice of Emily Prentiss who shook him lightly. Her own voice saying

“Aaron… Aaron. Hey, you're dazing out. We’re heading back to the inn… if you're ready?” she said, trying to keep her tone gentle.

Hotch sighed, smoothing his shirt as he stood up. “I’m ready,” he said as they exited the diner. He watched Lorelai move to her daughter as they walked out into the bitter November chill.

November 21st (11:35pm)

Family of four driving down a town street as they find a curve in the road. “When are we going to be there?!” a voice cried from the back seat.

“Our hotel is down the road another fifteen minutes.” a mother sitting in the front seat spoke. As she reached for her husband’s hand. As they kept driving down the path, they was something eerily quiet about the entire situation.

“HELP.” a voice yelped as she ran in front of the car. “HELP ME. PLEASE.” she shouted again. She wore an olive green dress. Curly brown hair and the makeup that sat on her face smeared in every direction. She looked as if she had walked straight out of hell.

The third victim in less than a week span, and this was absolutely sick. “My brother and I were at the Young Leaders Gala, and as we exited the home...we were driving. And someone jumped onto our car. He threw a blindfold onto me and my brother. Threw me out of the car and kept driving with my brother in it." She said looking down to her feet as she watched the agents across from her speak.

"Your brother James. Has he gotten into any trouble?" Emily asked from where she was sitting.

"No — he has always been a great guy. Top of his class…" she stated as she looked up to who she was sitting across from

Hotch sighed. Standing up, dialing a number into the phone. "Penelope, can you run a background check on our victims?" He asked as he exited out of the room.

"Will do sir." The blonde on the other end said as she typed on her computer. "No obvious connection. But I'll take a look and get back to you." She said with a nod as she continued on. Hanging up on the call.

"And as she does that...Rossi. Reid. Back to the Gilmore residence. Get a list of guests, servers, and anyone else that was present." Hotch instructed. The two nodded as they moved towards one of the cars.

“Babygirl, please tell us that you have good news,” Derek spoke as he stood in the scene of the newest part of the case. Or at least where the victim’s sister had run into the family who took her to the police station.

Penelope took a moment before spoke, a smile to her voice “i do in fact. so a piece of information that separates this victim from the others... James Newton attends Chilton, a prep school miles North of Stars Hollow. Looks like he got into a fight with a student at the start of last year and THAT student got expelled.” Penelope spoke as she looked through the pieces of the puzzle that she had in front of her.

“So the other student might have a part in this… can you check what student took the expelled student's spot?”

"...Rory Gilmore." Penelope's voice stated after a moment. "Oh, God." She said running a hand through her hair as she read through it.

"Pen...I think we need to alert Hotch. Rory is our connection." He said. As they hung up on the phone, he ran inside to where their bold leader had been. "Hotch. Our connection." He said looking at his boss and friend. "It's Rory…she's the end victim." Hotch's eyes widened as he looked at him.

Hotch knew that what he was about to suggest wasn't going to be the best idea. With him doing this, Penelope would have to come to Stars Hollow to help assist on this end. "I'll be staying with the Gilmores to keep Rory and her mother safe…" he sighed "call Pen — ask her to come here. You'll need the extra hand."

Telling the older of the two Gilmores what was needed was a lot easier than expected. She seemed to be a pretty easy going woman. But with all of this she definitely had a fire to her. "Hey, Rory! We're having an FBI man coming over for a sleepover." She said to her daughter. Her bright blue eyes looked up at her mother.

"Hotchner is coming over for a sleepover?" She asked looking at her mom.

"No...I'm not." He offered. But the mother and daughter both cheered a statement of

"FBI SLEEPOVER." They cheered as they raced out of the inn. Hotch following them as Emily laughed a comment of

"Well, have fun," she said with a smirk on her features.

November 26th

She opened her eyes, going to rub them to wake herself a little more. And at that moment it's when she realized, her hands were stuck. She had absolutely no way of squirming them. She was completely restricted. She tried to see if she could stand but it looked as if those were bound together too. She wasn't sure what it had been tying her up. It didn't feel like rope. Didn't seem like twine. It was too heavy. What was this?!

Taking a deep breath she steadied herself. Going to call out a "HELP." Or anything. But she didn't know where she was. So who knew if anyone could hear her. "So you're finally awake." The voice called, and it floated through the air. Chip, Matt, Dean and a few more were all sitting. Tied to various places around the room. Each one looked more and more wounded than the last.

"What am I doing here?! What do you want with us??" She asked. Trying her best to know what the hell had been happening. Fear drifted throughout the room as the boys and the other girl that was tied up looked terrified.

"All the guests are here. I believe you all know our newest guest… Rory Gilmore." The voice greeted, and it definitely didn't sound like a friendly greeting. It sounded mocking. Condescending. Like it had been waiting for their entire life to say those words. But who was it. And what the hell did it want with them?

TAG LIST: @hotchsbabygirl, @paget-prentiss , @willlemonheadsupremacy

#gilmore girls #criminal minds #hotchner fanfic #crossposted to ao3 #criminal minds fanfic #lorelai gilmore #aaron hotchner #if it stings let it burn series

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oyesmendes · 4 years ago

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not your typical thunderstorm

a/n: ashton. fucking. irwin. and the rain. these things do things to me and i do things to my writing. sorry ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The typical human would describe this kind of weather as wet, dark, dreary and sad. This wasn’t the case for Maya though, anyone who knew her knew she loved the rain more than she loved sunshine. She found safety and peace in the falling droplets, the pitter patter sound against the window was pleasing to her ears and the water somehow always had a way of drowning her emotions out. Except this time instead of enlightening her, it seemed like the rain was amplifying her pain, further darkening the clouds looming over her head. No matter how much rain was falling down, it felt like a weight on her shoulders, a painful squeeze to her chest. She had her head resting on Luke's shoulders, feet draped across Michael's lap while Family Guy played in the background. Her focus was more on the rain hitting the window pane, mocking the tears rolling down her cheeks. It felt like they were in a game of who could cry harder - the sky or Maya? And obviously the sky would be the clear winner. Maya recalled the situation that had happened a mere hour ago, playing it back in her mind frame-by-frame.

She was pacing the small home studio in the basement, hands crossed in front of her chest, mind a solid lump of mess. Ashton was stood at the side of the drum kit, leaving a gap between them. But to Maya, this gap was about to feel larger than it looked. She had been so excited for Ashton to come home from the studio today so they could pack for their two week trip to her home town. They had been planning to visit her family for months and they finally found a date where both of them didn't have work. What she didn’t expect when the front door opened was three other boys spilling into the house, staying for dinner and then have Ashton tell her that he couldn’t make the trip because they had to work on the album. She didn’t expect to be whisper shouting in their basement, with Ashton and her relationship hanging on to a thread. They were brewing their own storm, and it wasn't the kind anyone would enjoy.

“We’re supposed to finally see my family, Ashton.”

“I know, but the album still isn’t complete and we need to finish-“

“We’ve been planning this for months! My family is so excited to finally see you in person, and now you say you can’t come. What am I supposed to tell them?” Her voice was still soft but the anger was still bubbling in her chest.

“Baby, just tell them that I need to finish things up at work. Why is that so difficult?”

“It wouldn’t be difficult if I hadn’t already used that excuse twice this year, Ashton!” Maya flailed her arms, pacing along the borders of the studio.

“Does it matter? This is important”

“Are you saying that my family isn’t important?” She stopped in her tracks and turned to face him but all she could see was his back. Ashton’s shoulders were tense, his body wanting nothing more than to curl into itself. He didn’t mean to say those words, but annoyance took over his body and he whispered out, “Maybe they aren’t.”

She drew in a sharp breath, rubbing her temples. It wasn't worth it to get angry, but who listens to their mind nowadays?

“You did not just say that.”

"Maybe I did.” False confidence was growing in his chest. He didn’t want to be angry but he wanted to dominate the argument. Men are stupid.

"Ashton Fletcher Irwin, are you really being serious right now?"

"Yes Maya! Maybe I am being serious! Maybe my career is more important than a stupid trip to see your family! I don't know why you're making such a big deal out of this!" A soft gasp escaped her lips when the words flew out of Ashton's mouth. She didn't think he would ever feel that way, let alone say it out loud. The room stayed silent for a few moments, Maya racking her brain for the right words.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but this is a big deal for me. I've hardly brought a guy home in the past twenty two years of my life. So when I said I would like you to meet my family - it is a huge fucking deal. So yeah, big deal to me, Ashton.“ She sighed softly, her eyes focused on her manicured toes. After her words, realisation suddenly hit Ashton. He reached out for Maya, only for her to flinch and move away.

"Don't-not right now, I’m still talking.” Ashton nodded, moving back into the corner he was standing in. He let her speak, “You're it for me, Ash. I don't know if I am for you, but you're my forever. Ever since I laid my eyes on you at that stupid art exhibition, I was all in. So if you don't want to do this - this relationship, meeting my family and being a part of my life, then tell me. Don't let me stick around like an idiot to give you my everything." Maya finally looked up, eyes meeting Ashton's glassy ones. He didn't speak, just watched her walk out of the room with her head hanging low.

The boys were still sprawled on the couch, a movie playing on the TV while they waited for the couple. They knew the pair were in an argument the moment Maya dragged Ashton down to the basement after dinner. Their eyes followed Maya when she emerged from the basement sniffling softly. She entered their shared bed room, closing the door gently to shut out the noise.

Ashton still stood in the studio, feet planted to the ground. He knew he should run after her, apologise, but he couldn’t bring himself to move even an inch. He thought over her words again and again.

You're my forever. Don't let me stick around like an idiot to give you my everything.

He bent over, palms resting firmly on his thighs as he took a sharp breath in.

“Ash… you okay?” Calum padded down the stairs softly. Ashton shook his head, lips trembling softly and tears threatening to fall.

“I-I fucked it up, Cal”

“What did you do?” He put his hand on Ashton’s back, bending down to meet his eyes.

“I told her she wasn’t important, and that I couldn’t go back to meet her family because we had to work on the album.”

“Is it true?”

“Is what true?” Ashton was now standing upright, head still down as he leaned against the padded walls.

“Do you think she’s important?”

“Of course I do! She means the whole world to me. When she told me I was her everything, I didn't say anything back. I was too in shock to do anything and now I fucked it all up. I love her, Cal. Maya's it for me, I want to marry her and have kids and buy a house and grow old with her.” His head was rolled back, a defeated sigh escaping his lips.

“Then I think you should tell her”

Maya was throwing clothes into her suitcase when Luke and Michael peeked their heads into the room. She gave them a tight lipped smile as they came in, opening their arms wide so she could fall into their embrace. She sobbed into Luke’s shirt, Michael rubbing her back as she cried, the tears rolling down faster than the rain.

“He-He said I wasn’t important. He didn't say he loved me back.” she stuttered. Luke pulled her away, cupping her face in his hands.

“That is not true. Sure he might have said it in the heat of the moment, but we all know he’s so madly in love with you, M”

“What Luke said is right, Ashton loves you so much. He didn’t mean it, you guys just need to work it out slowly” Michael pulled her into his arms, swaying from side to side. They laid on the bed, Family Guy running in the background on the TV. Her world felt like it was crashing down, piece by piece, caving into her chest. It felt like an eternity before the room door opened slightly, Calum's head peeking through the gap. Michael gestured for him to come in, with Ashton following closely behind Calum.

Maya sat up from her position, Luke and Michael getting up from the bed and leaving to join Calum. Ashton climbed onto the bed, sitting in front of her. He reached cautiously for her hands, gripping them tightly when she didn’t resist his touch. Their eyes met and the sadness was mirrored between them. It’s true - they loved each other so much, no one could ever explain it. They would go to the ends of the earth for the other if it means they could be happy together.

He leaned towards her with their foreheads pressing against each other, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that you weren't important, that meeting your family wasn't important.”

“And I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have overreacted like that" She rested her hand on his chest.

“You had every right to react in that way.” He stroked her cheek, “I was being stupid, and after what you said, I was so afraid to lose you..”

“You would never lose me, gorgeous. I told you, you're it for me." Maya’s hand now grazed his jaw.

“Even after I hurt you?”

“You can hurt me a million times and I'd still love you.” This sort of love was fatal at their lows but the best at their highs. Nothing could bring them down even if all the forces of the world tried.

At her words, he pressed his lips to hers. A weight was lifted off her shoulders as the feelings coursed through their veins. The rain was now replaced by sunshine and a soft chorus of cheers filled the deathly silence. Everything was going to be alright.

#ashton irwin #ashton irwin fic #ashton irwin imagine #ashton 5sos #5sos #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer fic #5 second of summer imagines #michael clifford #michael clifford fic #calum hood #luke hemmings

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archivingspn · 4 years ago

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The Essential Supernatural [Revised and Updated Edition]: On the Road with Sam and Dean Winchester

URBAN NIGHTMARES: CREATING SUPERNATURAL (...) “I had a really good relationship with Warner Bros., "Kripke says. "They really appreciated how hard I worked on Tarzan, and I loved working with them. They said, 'What are you passionate about?' So I pitched them my [TV series] idea." Only, the pitch wasn't Supernatural as we now know it; it focused on a reporter who investigated urban legends. Warner Bros. still didn't bite, but they asked him if he had anything else. Fortunately, Kripke had an alternate approach prepared.

He pitched them the same idea, this time saying the TV show would revolve around two brothers cruising the country on a road trip. And this time Warner Bros. bit.(...) (...) Kripke used the tagline "Star Wars and Truck Stop America" to shorthand the show. "Who wouldn't want to watch Han Solo and Luke Skywalker with chain saws in the trunk?" he asks rhetorically. The idea of having heroes who traveled Route 66 and “Truck Stop America" appealed to Kripke's personal sensibilities. "Small towns, blue-collar lifestyles, greasy diners, dive bars, beer, and cheeseburgers are the things I understand," he says, referring to his roots in Toledo, Ohio. But what's a road trip without great tunes? To Kripke, that means classic rock blaring as loud as possible while speeding down two-lane roads that stretch into infinity. "There's something so mythic, so American, about that, and that's the energy I wanted the show to have." He was adamant that the show should have an "ass-kicking soundtrack."

Yet none of that would matter if they didn't find actors with the charisma of Harrison Ford and Mark Hamill. Especially since Supernatural only has two leads. Jensen Ackles read for the role of Sam Winchester first, but it quickly became clear that he suited the devil-may-care attitude of Dean perfectly. "Jensen's as charismatic in real life) as he is on-screen," enthuses Kripke. Then in came Jared Padalecki, and he was Sam Winchester. "Jared's just so likeable, Kripke explains. As soon as they got the two Texan actors together, the camaraderie and chemistry was unmistakable. Ackles and Padalecki were everyone's first choice. "They're truly good, smart, down-to-earth guys,” says Kripke, “and the bond that they have on camera is the bond they have off camera.” (...) [14-15 pg]

LEADING THE WAY: JARED PADALECKI “Like Sam, I have an older brother," notes Jared Padalecki. “And Jensen has a brother, too, so we were both comfortable with that brotherly dynamic from the start. We're both Texans, as well. Jensen's laid back; he's a pretty relaxed guy. He and I just hit it off pretty quickly, really.” It's a good thing, too, since as the only two leads on Supernatural, they were destined to work together pretty much all the time.

Padalecki explains, “There were no other series regulars, which I've never heard of. Usually he and I —or if not both of us, then one of us— are working all day every day, which is really intense." That actually strengthened the actors' bond because, as Padalecki relates, “We knew we were both in this together.” (...) The show's irreverent humor has helped ensure its continued success, and Padalecki is now going into his eighth season as Sam Winchester. “The show has changed so much," he reflects. “Jensen and I have grown up! It's been a growing process for everybody. The writers have paid attention to our portrayal of the characters over the years and have written to how we play them. Working with everyone on the show, all the writers, producers, and crew, has been a nice collaborative effort. It’s like we all got on this winding road together and we just keep following it." [16-17 pg]

AN ANGEL NAMED CASTIEL Angel. Soldier of God. Defender of humans. Castiel is all these things and more, and from his very first appearance, he has established himself as one of the most powerful and intriguing figures to enter the Winchesters' lives. His powers are vast, proven from the beginning when he pulled Dean out of the very depths of Hell to once again walk the Earth and fulfill his mission to stop the impending Apocalypse. He can also travel to the past, become invisible to humans, incinerate monsters, and smite demons with a simple touch. In the Winchesters’ fight against evil, Castiel is an invaluable ally.

But he is not without his flaws. His bond with Dean and his affection for humans makes him weak in the eyes of other angels, and eventually his devastation at being unable to find the missing God leads him to form an unholy alliance with the Crossroads Demon, Crowley. While these all have consequences that affect both him and those around him, Castiel touchingly proves himself a little bit human along the way. Until he declares himself the new God, however, and destroys anyone—and anything—that stands in his way.

His newfound status, however, comes at a price: in addition to absorbing all the souls from Purgatory to form a new angelic army loyal only to him, Castiel absorbs the ancient and incredibly [99 pg]

A GUIDE TO ANGELS "The angel mythology really expanded and improved on the show, but we were not sure when we introduced them whether the angel storyline was going to work," admits creator Eric Kripke. "If we'd cast the wrong person in the Castiel role, it might not have worked. We might have tried it and abandoned it! I really give Misha Collins the lion's share of the credit for saving the angel mythology." (...) [101 pg]

The Word On Season 10 (...) Supernatural's landmark tenth season parallels the launch of this revised edition. After nine seasons of playing Sam and Dean Winchester, Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles still remain true to their characters and make the show feel as fresh and exciting as when they first hit the road to begin their long battle against evil. For Jensen Ackles, the reason Supernatural remains at the top of its game is relatively straightforward: "It's a show about monsters, about ghosts, about archetypical characters and crazy storylines, but what it boils down to is a show about brothers and their struggles together and apart. People may not identify with our stories, but they can with that relationship."

That relationship is one that has kept viewers glued to their screens for nine seasons and will keep them coming back for more with season 10. Supernatural's avid and loyal fans are part of the reason the show has been so successful, and everyone behind and in front of the cameras is keenly aware and appreciative of this fact. As Jared Padalecki says, “Our show is about a kind of large dysfunctional family. And that extends to our fans. We are not kidding when we tell them, 'Y'all are a part of our show. We've made episodes about you.’" It's that love and appreciation that makes the show so unique and special, and it's why viewers will watch for as long as new episodes are created. Each new season adds greater depth and layers to the overall story of Sam and Dean Winchester, and it looks as though viewers will get to enjoy Supernatural for many more years to come. But when it does come time for an end, how do its two stars feel about their characters' fates?

"They're not going to walk away saying, 'Cool, we got all the monsters—we're going to Hawaii.' The only way I'd be happy for the show to end is Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid-style," says Padalecki. Ackles adds his own hopes for how the show should end: "They go out in a blaze of glory! I want the heartbreaker ending. The great thing about these characters is that they'll fight to the end.”

Here's hoping that end is still a long way off. [217 pg]

#2014-Oct #2014:October28 #*SMT #*BOG #*codependency #*CCTOF #*destiel #c/m saved the show #Eric Kripke #Jared Padalecki #author: Nicholas Knight #The Essential Supernatural Revised and Updated: On the Road with Sam and Dean Winchester #*books

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halcyonnhood · 5 years ago

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Ramen, Baking and Glitter || l.h

Summary: Luke realizes he loves his best friend while on tour and confronts the feelings when he sees her again.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: possibly a few curse words.

Authors note: The italics are Luke's memories of her! After the asterisks (***) is when they're back in LA and in present tense. I hope the format looks okay, I typed this out on my phone. Also the OC is very special to me (more about that in the tags.) I may write more about her and Luke.

- - -

The band 5 seconds of summer have travelled thousands of miles over the years. They've explored new countries, cities, and towns. They've met new fans, friends, and probably too many flirty humans. Luke enjoys every last bit of it, he thrives on the attention. Yet, no amount of love from fans manages to take his mind off one of his best friends waiting back in LA for him. Everything happens to remind him of Sarah.

When the boys stayed in Japan, Michael had demanded to stop for ‘proper’ ramen before they left the country. Of course, no one had the heart to deny him his love for traditional Japanese food. The four of them had been bantering and talking about plans when the longing had struck Luke. He was mid bite of his chicken ramen and all he can remember is the silly heated debate he and Sarah had before the tour.

Sarah tosses the bright orange bag back at Luke and scrunched her nose in disgust. She hadn't eaten all day and upon arriving at Luke's house, she decided she wanted to fix something easy. So naturally, she rummaged through his cabinets and made Luke reach the ramen shoved on the top shelf. When he handed the orange bag to her with “chicken flavored” printed across the top, she felt like she was going to have a brain hemorrhage. Now she just stares up at the top shelf in disappointment, as if red bags would magically appear instead.

“I want ramen.” Sarah tells him with pouted lips.

“You just threw the ramen at me,” Luke says. He points at the bag on the counter.

“Yeah, because that's disgusting.” She makes sure to enunciate the word disgusting. “It's chicken.”

“What do you have against chicken ramen? You like chicken, we literally just had some last night.” Luke questions.

“Ya, we had grilled chicken. It's the flavoring in the ramen, it's weird.”

“What kind do you like then?”

“Beef.” Sarah says. She gives him a playful smile when he rolls his eyes at her, “It is the only acceptable ramen.”

“It is not!” He argues. “You're just wrong, you monster. Chicken is a classic,”

She fake gags, “I have taste buds, you giant oaf. Now we have to go to the store because you're wrong.”

Luke spent the rest of the Japan trip thinking about Sarah. He thought about how much he missed her randomly dropping by his house and pretending she owned it. He thought about how she would've really enjoyed eating traditional ramen instead of the instant kind, she would never want to leave the foreign country. Lastly, he made a mental note to buy the girl all the beef ramen she could ever want and to find a restaurant that serves the real stuff. He knows something so small would make her whole day and he just wants her to smile.

Japan isn't the only time Luke is reminded of the strong willed girl. They had met a fan in Munich who looked uncannily like Sarah and he hadn't been the only one who noticed. If Luke's being honest, he hadn't been paying much attention to the girl at first. She had won some radio station competition and the whole band had greeted her at once before she turned to talk to Michael first. He had taken more of a notice to her after catching Michael's not so subtle glance at the boys and the first thing he had connected was the hair. The fan had her hair honey blonde hair pulled back into a French braid, so what? It wasn't uncommon to see the almost brown hair color and the style was popular. It's not like he hadn't seen it on anyone other than Sarah, he had. It was just such a common sight around his household that he automatically associated it with her.

When the fan had made it to him and pulled away from the hug, Luke felt bad for not paying attention to anything she said. He wanted to, but he was captivated by how she could be a perfect doppelganger. Dark olive green eyes, freckles spotted across flushed cheeks, and a small button nose. All things that looked eerily similar and one look at the boys showed that they had seen it too.

“Holy shit,” Michael said as soon as she had left “That kid looked exactly like Sarah,”

“It's weird,” Calum added. “I mean, all of the features just matched,”

Ashton had chuckled at their surprise, “They do say everyone has lookalikes,”

“Still so weird, especially after not seeing Sarah in months.” Luke said with a shrug. He tried not to think about it too hard.

Three different shows went by without Luke being reminded of her. He thinks it's because he made more of an effort to facetime her at the end of his nights and fulfill his longing to talk to her. When they stop in Paris, he's proven wrong. Luke wishes he could be cheesy and say it's because he realized he was in love with her while in the city of love. Except he realized his love was more than platonic weeks ago.

Ashton had suggested that they go somewhere local for breakfast. So, the duo set out on an adventure for the best place that served breakfast. They ended up in a bakery, ordering an abundance of baked goods and iced coffee. The savory scent of bread mingling with the sweet scent of pastries and cookies reminded him of none other than the girl that he may or may not be in love with. More often than not, she'd spend her extra time using new recipes to bake cookies, cake, and bread. Most of the time she subjected the boys to taste testing, but none of them seemed to mind. There would be days that Calum would be sad to come over to Luke's and find no treats. It was even sadder on recording days when she couldn't make it to the studio to visit and drop off her baked goods. The best days were always when she stopped by.

“Booooys,” Sarah sing songs, “I made some cookies!”

She sits the plate covered with aluminum foil on the desk and sits next to Michael on the couch. Ashton's listening to the producer play back their latest song while both Luke and Calum are diving for the plate to see who gets a cookie first. The sight just reminds her of how childish they can both be and it makes her laugh.

"What kind are they today?” Michael asks.

Luke sits back and looks at the cookie in his hand while waiting for her to respond with her normal rambles about the recipe. Usually she'll tell them all about how the website lied about the amount of butter or come up with an excuse to why ‘the first batch is bad’. He has to admit that he loves hearing her get so passionate over her baking skills.

“I made two. Can you believe it? TWO!” Sarah excitedly tells him. “I made salted caramel and raspberry with white chocolate chips. AND the caramel is homemade!”

"Wait, you know how to make caramel? This is so good” Calum says while waving around the half eaten cookie.

"It's so easy, it's just cream, sugar, and butter. But it burns if you don't take it off the heat fast enough. I may have ruined a pan,” She explains the last part timidly.

Some time during her explaining how to make caramel, Ashton had also grabbed one of the cookies. He just shakes his head at the girl with a chuckle, “Sarah, you'd be a good baker if you didn't burn everything,”

"Says the man who is on his second cookie,” Sarah says with a glare.

"This is the third time you've burnt something,”

“I'm betting that other bakers have burnt things before!” She argues.

The other three stay quiet as the two go at it, both of them living for the argument. For a minute, Luke thinks that Ashton is enjoying it too much. That is until Sarah's expression softens from the furrowed brow to a relaxed and playful one instead. Sometimes he thinks they're both too argumentative and honest for their own good, but it always ends in good fun. He could never understand why they actually enjoyed arguing and often times egged each other on, but as long as no one ends up in tears, everyone let's them hash it out.

“The cookies are really good, Sarah.” Luke tells her honestly. His insides feel melty and gooey as her eyes light up at the compliment.

"Thank you, Luke!” She thanks him in an overly sweet tone, “You know how to be a GOOD best friend. That's why I love you,”

It's possible that Luke had fallen hopelessly in love, not that he'd admit it. He had spent the entire world tour consumed with thoughts about Sarah, always seeking out bits and pieces of her in every place they visited. He even associated her with ramen out of all things. Ramen. He knew he'd have to deal with the conflicting emotions eventually, but he still opted to push them away to have a clear head for the rest of tour. A mostly clear head. All he knew was that it was a future Luke problem.

* * *

“Are you really bringing up the brownies I made in 2017?”

“They were MEMORABLE! Gosh, I remember how bitter they were. It feels like it happened yesterday,”

“Cocoa powder is bitter, you little shit!”

The argument can be heard throughout the hallway leading up to the dressing rooms in the Forum. Luke hadn't been expecting to hear the bright voice until later tonight, so naturally when he hears her, it makes his heart soar. Her words towards Ashton sounds harsh, but he can hear the playful hints in her tone. He isn't even to the door and can already visualize her darkened blonde hair falling past her shoulders, her usual makeup, and a smile tugging at her pink lips. He feels like he might explode with excitement.

Luke is right. He leans against the doorframe and watches two of his favorite people argue. She has half of her hair pulled back in a ponytail, purple glitter tapped onto her cheekbones, and the light catches on her shiny lip gloss. Neither of them acknowledge his presence, but Michael gives him a knowing grin from one of the chairs. He doesn't mind, he's just happy to see her again and admittedly he missed their playful fights. It gives him time to think about how he'd admit his love.

Girls are usually the ones to secretly fall in love with their best friends, at least that's how it's always portrayed in shows. Is it weird for guys to do that? Luke isn't sure how he's supposed to tell her, should there be some grand gesture? Just be straight up with no frilly things? He should've bought her flowers on the way here from their last promo video. He just wants her to feel appreciated whether or not she holds the same feelings towards him.

Luke is brought out of his daze by a smaller body colliding with his and warm arms wrapping around his midsection. He envelopes the smaller girl in his arms and gives her the tight squeeze that he's been waiting months for. She pulls back and he smooths down her frizzy hair with a small smile.

“I missed you so much, Luke.” Sarah smiles brightly up at him. The sight is enough to turn his heart to mush.

He just returns the warm smile, “I missed you more,”

“Now that you're here,’ Sarah turns around dramatically and points a manicured finger at Ashton before continuing, “You can protect me from bullies!”

“What's he bullying you bout’ this time?”

“My brownies! He can never be nice to me. I slaved all night for y'all and he brings up the disaster of 2017. I'm so much better now.” Sarah huffs.

She snatches the Tupperware bowl off of Ashtons lap and twirls around to push it into Luke's hands instead. He takes one out and savors the first bite, Sarah watching his every move for a reaction. She isn't wrong, it's much better than the first time when she forgot to add enough sugar. When he makes a noise of appreciation for the sweet treat, her face lights up and she sticks her tongue out at Ashton with a laugh. Luke swears that he could watch her soft features all evening, but he could settle for a bit of time before the concert. The last concert of the tour. Then he could spend the rest of his days talking to and watching her when she visits.

Sarah points her nose up in a mocking way, “See, Luke agrees that they are good brownies. I'm right. Now if you excuse us, I've got to paint Luke's nails!” .

“Luke's opinion doesn't mean you're right,” Ashton tuts.

"It does too! Accept defeat, Ash.” She calls out while dragging Luke out of the room with her.

Luke almost forgot that he had texted asking her to repaint his nails. Between potentially obsessive thoughts, promo, concerts, and trying to be a real tourist; Luke hadn't found the time to find someone to keep up with his nails. He definitely wants them done for the show, so he doesn't complain about their abrupt departure from the boys. Sarah leads him a few rooms down to one of the unoccupied dressing rooms and points at the lineup of polish bottles on the makeup desk.

"I didn't know what color you wanted this time, so I bought nearly half of my collection with me,” She says.

"You didn't have to bring all this, Sarah. You could've just picked one for me,”

“I wanted to have a choice! I think you should pick something new though. No black or red.”

“You're really going to do that to me?” Luke asks in mock distress.

It makes Sarah let out a giggle and roll her eyes, “I'm so horrible, I know.”

It only takes Luke a moment to narrow down which colors he liked best. He really wanted the sparkly red, but he couldn't ignore her opinion when he valued it so much. She wants something different, so he hands her the pastel pink polish and gives her a sheepish glance. She doesn't react badly though, she just gives him a wide smile with her pretty lips and motions for him to sit in the chair.

Sarah gets to work with painting his nails, making precise strokes to avoid a mess of polish. He admires the patience and steadiness required to do such a simple task, because the last time he tried it looked like a toddlers handy work. After watching three nails being covered in pink, he turns his attention back to taking in her features. Her brows dip down into a tiny furrow as she concentrates and he notices the new freckles dotted around her forehead and nose. He figures that she must've been in the sun recently, he's always known that the spots darken with exposure to sunlight. He likes how it just adds more depth to her complexion.

Luke also enjoys the glitter. She tends to save the bold look for festivals and he wants to tease her about how their show must be important. He just finds himself fascinated by how it looks on her and how it instantly brightens all of her features. Of course he wouldn't tease her about it when he thinks she looks so effortlessly pretty. Although the thought of him being the reason for her flushed cheeks is tempting enough.

When Sarah sets the closed bottle back onto the desk, Luke notices her makeup sitting neatly in the corner, probably so she can freshen up throughout the night. He wonders if the glitter would have the same effect on him. Plus, he just wants her close to him.

“What's going on in that brain of yours?” Sarah waves a hand in front of his face.

“I was just thinking,”

She purses her lips at him, “No shit, sherlock. Elaborate,”

"You know how you do your makeup? I was thinking about if I'd look good in it and if the fans would like it” Luke tells her honestly.

“The fans would love it, lu. And we'd be matching!” She gushes. He can tell she's already visualizing the look on him.

"Can you do mine too then?”

"I don't think you could afford my services,” She answers, while already reaching for her makeup.

There's more steps to the makeup look than Luke had originally anticipated. She explains each and every step to him and somehow listening to her explain bb cream ends up being the softest thing in the world. She promised that it'd only even out the redness and he does like how natural he looks. After contouring and adding blush, she finally moves onto his eyeshadow and glitter. He catches a glance at himself in the mirror as she pulls back his hair into a half ponytail and he likes how pretty he looks. The glitter looks nice on him and he matches Sarah perfectly.

Sarah pulls out the gloss wand with a ‘pop' sound and smiles at the man, “One last thing.”

"Thank you. I almost look as pretty as you,” He tells her. He likes how her face flushes a darker pink at his compliment.

"Oh, stop that. You could rock it better than me any day,”

Luke studies Sarah's expression for a moment while she puts her makeup away and he's never wanted to kiss someone more. He's spent months away and he's been consumed by his newfound romantic love for her. Now that she's in front of him again, he wants to kiss her and take her out for authentic beef ramen like he had planned. He wants to watch her bake and compliment all of her new recipes. He wants to hold her tight and never leave her again. He's just afraid that she'll never see him as anything other than a friend. He'd accept any love over none at all, but he'll never know the difference until he tries.

"Sarah, can I be honest with you?” Luke questions.

She looks up at him with wide eyes, “Always. What's up?”

"I think I love you,” Luke tells her carefully. “Tour gave me a lot of time to think about how I feel about you.”

"Romantically?” Sarah looks at him in awe and points at herself, “Me?”

"Yes, you.”

“I'm really not sure what to say in this situation,”

"You don't have to say anything,” Luke rubs his sweaty palms against his pants, “We can just pretend this never happened.”

"No, I mean…I think I like you too. It's just that you're my best friend and you were gone. So I don't know how I really feel? It's easy to think one thing without the person around. Now you're here and what if I just missed you?”

"We can always wait to talk about this,” He assures her, “I was just going to ask you to go on a date with me after the show,”

She gives him a lopsided smile, “What kind of date?”

“I figured I'd ask you to a Japanese restaurant, but no weird seafood since you hate that. I thought you'd like some traditional ramen. We had it in Japan and it reminded me of you.”

"The real stuff? Michael talks about how good it is all the time!”

Luke smiles at her reaction, “Would you like to go with me?”

"You know what? Yes! It'll be fun.”

The boys are finishing up last second preparations backstage when Sarah joins them. Michael and Calum are talking with each other and she doesn't see Ashton with them yet, so she takes it as a chance to talk to Luke. He's fidgeting with his in-ear monitors when he notices her walking up to him, a sneaky expression across her features.

"Being a troublemaker?” Luke raises an eyebrow at her.

"You know it! I just took a break to wish you luck,”

"I always need that,” He chuckles.

The stage managers are rushing around and one speeds by calling out that they'll be on in one minute. Luke gives her a frown, sad to leave in the middle of a conversation. Sarah on the other hand just smiles instead and motions for him to lean down. When the tall boy does, she stands on her toes and places a soft kiss against his lips. His blue eyes widened at the unexpected kiss, but softened after the initial shock. She pulls her lip gloss out and touches up his gloss that she had messed up, not wanting to ruin his look. Luke didn't expect Sarah to make the first move, yet he's the one blushing.

“I-” He starts.

Sarah doesn't let him get a word in edgewise and pushes him lightly towards their other three friends, “I think you're going on now,”

"You look pretty. I'll see you after!” She adds again with a smile at the shocked man.

Luke is definitely in love with her, there's not a single doubt in his mind. All he can think about through the concert is the fact that he's never been so excited for noodles in his entire life. Noodles and his favorite girl.

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dodgergilmore · 4 years ago

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YAS give me more jess/rory analysis PLEASE ❤

I ended up expanding on my season 3 thoughts in another post, so I’ll just ramble on about something different if we’re all good with that!

Let’s discuss how “You could do more.” is, in some ways, the thesis of the whole Rory and Jess dynamic.

When Rory is not amused by his magic trick during one of their very first interactions (what a sentence lmao), it shows that she isn’t going to put up with the facade he puts on in Stars Hollow. She doesn’t shy away from speaking her mind and pushes him to take responsibility for his actions:

“All [Luke] does is stick up for you, and all you do is make his life harder. I guess that's what you have to do when you're trying to be Holden Caulfield, but I think it stinks. (...) Funny, I never pegged you as clueless, my mistake.”

Again, Rory points out the act Jess puts on but this also shows how she isn’t going to just passively allow him to act in such ways because she doesn’t see him as the nuisance/lost cause that much of the town sees him as. Instead, she holds him to a higher standard because she knows he isn’t clueless.

After a well-intentioned suggestion on Rory’s part, we see her at odds with the expectations placed on her by the town as she becomes “the poster girl for censorship” and she can openly discuss this with Jess as someone who would understand where she’s coming from, because he is one person who is not charmed by Stars Hollow’s small town antics. Her future isn’t bound to this place, so when Jess questions what Rory and Dean talk about, saying that ‘he doesn’t seem like her kind of guy’ it adds another layer to that conversation; let’s be real, Jess is not coming from a place of entirely pure intentions but after season 1, Dean is basically the town’s golden boy (despite previously being the new kid in town) and thus is the embodiment of one of the two worlds Rory is caught between throughout the series: Stars Hollow. But right from the Pilot, we know that Rory is set to “do more” than Stars Hollow. That whole sidestory in 2x12 and its relation to Rory could be an analysis of its own, which I don’t think I am equipped to offer at this time...

By 2x13, Rory is pushing against and growing frustrated with Lorelai’s view of Jess. Rory recognises that Jess should not need a tutor, after trying to explain his margin-writing to Lorelai in the previous episode, and it’s clear that Rory believes in Jess in a way that he himself does not at this point. He meets her words of encouragement and “you could do more” with cynicism but Rory remains unconvinced. Schooling should not be a measure of success – and by season 6 it ends up being beside the point anyway – but it is interesting that Jess’ reasoning for not going to college has nothing to do with himself and everything to do with what others have to say about him.

And why aren’t you going to college? (...)

Ask my mother, she could give you a couple reasons. Oh, and I’m sure Principal Mertin can chime in with a few good ones. In fact, ask your mother. She doesn’t know me all that well but I’m sure she could improvise a few things.

Do not give me that whole ‘I’m so misunderstood, Kurt Cobainy’ thing. You are way stronger than that and I don’t even wanna hear it.

That whole conversation in the car really is The Goods. The paths they have planned for themselves could not be more different but still, they offer each other the same unwavering support and encouragement.

I wont go into detail because I think I’ve already addressed this in my previous posts today but “you could do more” comes into play even during their relationship in that Jess, as we know, does not generate the most positive views from the people of Stars Hollow, perhaps believing that Rory could do more, so to speak, than him. If nothing else, the town definitely thinks so.

Jess shows support for Rory’s Harvard-and then-Yale dreams, which is one of many reasons his reappearance in 6x08 works so well. He assumes she graduated early before considering she wasn’t in school; when Rory keeps commenting on how her circumstances are “all temporary” Jess is visibly... I don’t know that I’d say concerned at this point but he is definitely taken aback.

I know it's good. Jess, you've got such a great brain. I knew that if you could just sit down and stop shaking it around, you could do something like this. I knew it. I knew it.

I know you did. (...) So, I just basically wanted to show you that. Uh, tell you... tell you that I couldn't have done it without you.

Obviously Jess is confirming her “you could do more” sentiments when he explicitly credits the role she played in helping him find success for himself. In doing so, this reassures Rory that she was right about something after feeling the defeat of Mitchum’s words for however many months by this point, and also reminds her of the ambitions she once had for herself.

Neither of them do or say these sort things for “I want to be with you” reasons but for “I want good things for you” reasons. It doesn’t come from a romantic place – they sincerely want the other to succeed, even if that means being apart. Even after everything that happened, Rory is saying “I hope you're good. I want you to be good.” in that 3x22 phone call, and then this in 6x08:

You know that section toward the front, the staff recommendations? I'm gonna grab a copy of your book and put it in that section, and then I'm going to write my own little recommendation on a card and attach it so people see it and buy it.

Please, that’s just cute :(

Of course it ends up ending in absolute MESS but she goes all the way to Philadelphia to see his open house. Imagine if she hadn’t checked the mail that day lmao

I just got the flier, and I don't know. I just wanted to see your place, but then this...

In AYITL, Jess hears Rory out as she divulges the state her life is in then reassures her that she’s in a rut that she is fully capable of getting out of. “Where is this coming from? What inspired you?” indeed. The implications, y’know??

Now I’m going to circle back to what I said about Dean representing Stars Hollow for a moment here. Logan very overtly represents the world of wealth and like I said, Rory is between these two worlds. Rory is a balance of the world of her grandparents and her mother; what’s interesting about Jess is that he doesn’t belong to either world, really. He can exist in the world of Stars Hollow because of his familial connections and history there and that brings us some little moments that are not at all deep, but I absolutely love anyway:

Can't wait to hear how you bagged the job.

It was the usual thing; I submitted my resume, plus samples of my work, I was thoroughly vetted, there were several lengthy interviews, plus complex negotiations over salary, benefits, parking–

You asked Taylor.

Pretty much.

And then when he asks Rory over the phone to fill him in on the ‘showbiz spat’ in 3x14. Stars Hollow has an important role in Rory’s life, and Jess is able to understand that world in a way that Logan simply can’t – if I recall, he is actually quite endeared by the town when he makes his first official visit there in season 7.

Season 5 makes Dean’s place in Rory’s life very clear, first with “What am I doing here, Rory? I don't belong here. Not anymore.” in 5x08 and then in 5x18, when Dean is used as a direct parallel to Luke:

They want more than this. Don’t you see that? And all you are is this. (...) This town, it’s all you are, and it’s not enough. She’s going to get bored, and you can’t take her anywhere. You’re here forever.

It’s... kind of an odd comparison to make in that Lorelai is quite happy with her Stars Hollow life and hasn’t indicated that she wants “more” than this. For Rory, though, it does reiterate that she wants more than Stars Hollow can offer her. I’ve discussed this before but the world of wealth and Logan, while initially intriguing to Rory, loses its shine during season 6 and she ultimately rejects it in that she doesn’t want to be bound by it. It offers temporary thrills and escapism, but she ends up having to enter the real world.

In Summer, Rory talks about looking at places in Queens so that might be the best, most recent indicator of where Rory wants to be in terms of geography. Just like Rory, Jess isn’t bound to any particular world – bouncing around from place-to-place in the original series, not unlike Rory in the revival – and together... they can do more. And that is that on soulmate-ism!

All in all, they hold each other to high standards not because they idealise one another or put each other on pedestals but because they genuinely believe in each other’s capabilities. They actively push each other to do more and important to note is that they hear each other in these moments; maybe not always immediately but they get there eventually because by the end, it’s clear they have a certain respect and fondness for each other. I like that they don’t passively roll along with whatever the other chooses to do, which may be the very reason some people don’t like them. As much as their dynamic evolves with time, there are just some things that remain a constant...

#ask #somekindofhelicoptervalentine #literati #~you could do more #barely even mention them but i'll tag anyway:#anti dean #anti logan

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blacklister214 · 4 years ago

Text

Illusions (Chapter 4): Milestone

L.A., 1983

Caleb spun and dipped Delilah, executing the move with perfect precision. Dancing with a partner had, in life, been a bit trying for him, but he had to admit this wasn't as aggravating as he remembered. That was probably due to Delilah. She was nearly as much of a perfectionist as he was and didn't complain about going into overtime if it meant getting a routine right. Just as important, the dancer had no more romantic interest in him than he had in her.

If there was one thing he didn't miss about his old life, it was the constant hetrosexual façade he'd had to maintain. Constantly squiring empty-headed starlets around town had been exhausting. Unfortunately he'd had no choice. The fan magazines needed to report on his "womanizing" ways, or people would wonder why a man as handsome, rich, and charming as Caleb Covington wasn't settled down with a nice wife. A cad was acceptable by Hollywood standards. The truth about Caleb was not.

Attitudes towards those of Caleb's persuasion hadn't completely changed with the times, but within this small group of performers, he didn't feel the need to hide that aspect of himself.

"-I tell you this, and ain't just jive. Though I'm dead, I have never felt so alive." He flipped Delilah high in air and caught her with ease. Yet another benefit of ghosthood.

"I feel like a king with," He and Delilah poofed themselves into the chair they'd set up as the makeshift "throne" on the band platform. He used his scepter to cue to the band.

"When I swing with," This time they landed themselves on the room's chandelier. They rocked it back and forth while the musicians played the accompaniment.

"When I sing, sing, sing, sing, siiiiinnnnngggg" He held out his hand and together they jumped, vanishing in mid-air, only to appear on the main stage, Caleb on one knee before Delilah.

"With you!" The band executed the final notes and there were a few seconds of silence before the whooping started.

"That was the best we ever played!" Caleb stood, keeping his face impassive, but he silently agreed. He only hoped that didn't mean they would fall flat this evening. Ignoring the gushing, he moved over to the table where he kept his notes.

"We are knocking them dead tonight!"

"Or deader as the case may be!" Caleb frowned regretting, not for the first time, his audiences weren't a little more lively. Ghosts would enjoy their talents, but lifers would be awed.

"Silence all! Let's hear from our illustrious leader." Delilah's voice rang out clearly and everyone became mute. He could feel a dozen pairs of eyes drilling into his back. He sighed and turned to them.

"The show starts at 8. I expect everyone back in the green room by 6:30. Don't be late." The musicians seemed to deflate a bit. Good. The last thing Caleb wanted was for the band to feel complacent.

He knew better than anyone that the greatest performance often came when the performer felt they had something to prove. Everyone in this room now had the perfect motivation. They'd play their hearts out just to spite him.

Caleb could tell by the set of Delilah's jaw that she was not amused but she pasted on a smile and turned to the musicians.

"Quick, scurry before he decides to keep us all for more rehearsal." The band popped out one at a time until only his partner remained. Her hands went to her hips, the universal sign for an unhappy woman.

"Yes?" If she needed to scold him, they might as well get it over with before this evening's show.

"It wouldn't kill you to be nicer to them." Caleb cocked an eyebrow at her in a way so many of his fans had adored.

"Nothing would kill me at this point. That is the main perk of being dead." The expression on Delilah's face communicated he wasn't winning her over with his quip.

"Treat them well or they won't stick around. It's not like you're paying them and they need the job." Caleb smiled to himself, remembering all the tongue lashings he'd delivered during his life to castmates and crew members who hadn't been pulling their weight. If Delilah had known him then, she'd realize the kid gloves with which he handled his current band.

"They will stick around for the same reason I tolerate having them around. I am offering them an opportunity to perform again." That was all the carrot he needed to keep drawing them back. Caleb provided a venue, an audience, new music to play, and a star. What more could they possibly want from him?

Delilah stared at him a moment without speaking and then let her arms fall to her sides. She seemed less angry, but more...sad? Disappointed?

"If you keep pushing everyone away, you're going to end up spending eternity alone." Caleb fought the unpleasant roiling of his gut. He didn't care what Delilah thought. He didn't need her good opinion.

"I'm not alone." Warmth flooded him as he thought of Alex, pushing away all of the unpleasantness in the conversation. He smiled to himself, remembering he won't have to wait much longer before his next visit. He'd planned to drop by Alex's room at 5 pm, in a mere three hours.

"How is Alex?" Caleb's mind jerked back into the moment and he saw Delilah's expression had shifted again. She looked almost amused about something, but for the life of him, no pun intended, he couldn't imagine what. How had she guessed at the direction of his thoughts?

Also, why was she asking him about Alex? She had only met him the one time, and things had been a bit one-sided. Still, Alex was an extremely charming child. Caleb had liked him from their first meeting and he liked almost no one. Naturally she'd be interested in the boy's well-being.

"Fantastic. He's the best student in both of his dance classes. The teacher put him downstage center. A little brat named Kimberly was furious, but cream will rise to the top."

Caleb had been unable to resist peeking in the classes from time to time. He'd wanted to assure himself that Alex was happy and the teacher wasn't completely incompetent. Caleb felt she wasted too much time on the hopeless students, but such was the nature of her profession. His opinion of the woman had greatly risen when she had given Alex his place of honor.

"Is it possible you're privately tutoring him as well?" Caleb frowned, wondering at the purpose of her question. Was she implying Alex didn't deserve to be the star in his class? That Caleb was unfairly giving the boy an advantage?

"I may have given him a few pointers. He has natural ability and the drive to better himself, so why wouldn't I assist him?" It wasn't as though Alex's parents would have been of any help.

His mother would have to tear herself away from her many community-minded commitments. Heaven knew protests at women's clinics didn't organize themselves. For a woman supposed so committed to children and family she didn’t seem to spend much time with her own.

Alex's father had stopped his bullying ways since Caleb's intervention, but the experience had had an unanticipated side effect. These days Greg seemed a bit leery of Alex. Caleb suspected his threat had made Greg Mercer wonder if his four year old was in communication with a demon.

The man had actually nailed multiple crosses up all over the house, including in Alex's room. The Mercer family was also now attending church every Sunday. Grace was now always said before dinner. Still, it was an improvement over the unceasing criticism and Alex had been allowed his dance lessons. Overall it was a positive outcome.

"Caleb Covington, you are not the bastard everyone thinks you are." Caleb blinked at Delilah's pronouncement. Was she implying he was soft because he happened to spend a little of his time with a delightful child? He couldn't let that stand.

"Take that back." He pointed a finger in her direction in warning. Delilah's smile only grew wider.

"Fine. You're not the COMPLETE bastard everyone thinks you are. See you tonight." She vanished before he could refute her again. He resented the implication that he was in any way weak. He had worked hard to cultivate an air of implacable authority. To be a man both respected and feared throughout Hollywood. Was Alex's influence changing him somehow? Fundamentally altering who he was?

Caleb closed his eyes, shutting out the world, and thinking only of Alex. Once again the feeling of peace swept over him. He let himself completely surrender to that feeling.

"-IS real!" Caleb's eyes popped open, startled. He swung his head around the empty ballroom. He had been certain that he had heard Alex's voice as clearly as if the boy were right in front of him. Was this another ability manifesting?

He closed his eyes and tried again, finding the place within himself that belonged to Alex.

"Is so!" There! Caleb frowned at the tone Alex had used. Alex sounded angry. Alex was almost never angry.

"Is not!" Interesting, he could hear other voices as well. This one seemed to belong to a young girl.

"Is so!" Not most witty of replies, but Caleb was proud of Alex's refusal to be cowed. It was often difficult for Alex to assert himself. Caleb had been working to help him overcome that fear and apparently those lessons were already paying dividends.

"Is not!" The little girl was practically screeching at this point. Caleb couldn't possibly imagine what could be getting both children so agitated.

"I see Caleb too! I see him right there. You can't because you're a meany-face!" Yet another voice. A boy this time. And what had he said? 'I see Caleb too!'? Caleb was more than a little surprised that he himself had been the cause of the argument. He generally encouraged Alex not to speak of him at all.

"Mommy! Luke called me a-" The girl's voice drifted off until Caleb could no longer hear her. Presumably she'd gotten too far from Alex.

"Luke? Are you sure you see Caleb? Because I don't see him." Alex's voice had gotten softer and Caleb could hear the worry in his voice. Alex had asked Caleb once if he'd still be able to see Alex when he got older. Caleb had assured Alex he would, but the truth was Caleb had no idea. Hearing Alex's voice now made him wonder if the boy had truly believed his comforting claim.

"I pretended." This 'Luke' didn't seem at all ashamed of his lie. An interesting contrast to Alex, who had once confessed to eating a stolen cookie less than a minute after taking his first and only bite. Alex hadn't even been the one to steal the cookie. Caleb had done it on his behalf. An ill-advised gesture as it turned out since Alex couldn't explain how he'd gotten the cookie from the top shelf of the pantry. The poor boy had ended up grounded for the week.

"Why?" Caleb was interested in hearing this answer as well.

"Because Sarah's a meany-face." Even Caleb had to admit that was rather sweet. This 'Luke' sounded as young as Alex, but already he had chosen to be Alex’s champion. Caleb decided he'd like to clap eyes on the child and thank him for his chivalry. It was sooner than he'd intended, but plans changed all the time.

Caleb found himself standing next to a large sandbox. The park. That would explain the voices of the other children.

"Caleb!" Alex yelled excitedly as he almost always did when Caleb appeared. How far they've both come from the day of Alex's 4th birthday when Alex had screamed in terror at the sight of him.

"He's here?!" The boy, "Luke" sounded nearly as excited as Alex did.

"Right there!" Alex pointed and Caleb watched and waited. Judging from the way Luke swiveled his head and squinted, Caleb could tell he was as invisible to the boy as he was to everyone else. After a minute the boy shrugged and waved. Caleb took a step to the left, just to be certain, but Luke's eyes remained on the space where Caleb had been.

"Hi Caleb! I'm Luke." Caleb loosed a small laugh. Though Luke couldn't see him, he still believed Alex that Caleb was there.

"Alex, please tell Luke that I'm very pleased to meet him and that I said thank you for being such a good friend to you." Before Alex could relay the message he was interrupted by the arrival of two women and the wretched child from earlier. The first was clutching the little’s girl’s hand, looking deeply affronted. The second lady, looking no lest incensed stopped before Alex’s defender.

"Lucas Patterson! Did you call Sarah a 'Meany-face'?" Given the similarity of features, Caleb could only assume this was Luke's mother. Surely she wasn't taken in by the little girl's crocodile tears?

"Yes." Luke sounded no more contrite than he'd had early. The furrowing of the woman's eyebrows told Caleb the boy's mother hadn't missed the lack of repentance either.

"Then you need to apologize to her right this minute!" Luke's face turned positively mulish, making him resemble his mother even more. His arms folded across his chest.

"No! She IS a meany-face. And a tattle tale." Mother and son gazed into each other eyes, forcefully reminding Caleb of an Old West showdown. All that was missing was a tumbleweed rolling through the park. Finally Luke’s mother turned to the other woman.

"I apologize for my son's rudeness. We are going home." The woman held out her hand to her child. Luke uncrossed his arms, looking as aghast as if she'd raised her hand to spank him.

"But Moooommmm-" Luke was brought up short by a look that even Caleb found somewhat intimidating.

"Say goodbye to Alex." Luke's posture flopped, signally that his mother had won the day.

"Bye Alex." He paused, then deliberately turned to where Caleb had first appeared. "Bye Caleb." Luke quickly stuck out his tongue at the little girl before at last taking his mother's hand. Caleb smiled, admiring the boy's moxie.

"I like him." Caleb turned at Alex's comment and found him staring after Luke. He realized that he could have just witnessed a major milestone for Alex. Alex was generally liked among other children, but he didn't have any one child in particular he was close with.

"Me too." Though he'd only seen the boy for a few minutes, Caleb was already convinced Luke was just the kind of loyal companion Alex deserved. Someone who would watch over him when Caleb couldn't. Someone who would listen to him.

"Caleb?" Caleb looked down and saw Alex was once more biting his lip. He hadn't seen that habit in months and it never boded well.

"Yes Alex?" The boy looked afraid. What question could be so terrifying that he was frightened to even ask it?

"Are you real? Sarah said you're not. She says I made you up." When the words finally came, Caleb realized he should have anticipated them. Of course his argument with the bratty child was upsetting him. Caleb had to consider his answer carefully.

He didn't want to tell Alex he was a ghost. Maybe one day the boy would figure it out on his own, but hopefully by then Alex would be so accustomed to Caleb it wouldn't have much of an impact.

"I am real. I'm just real in a different way than you are. But that's not always a bad thing." Caleb looked around for something to cheer Alex up. His eyes alighted on a portable radio. At present it's owner seemed to be asleep on a blanket. Not very intelligent of them really. They were practically asking for their device to be stolen. Really what he was about to do was a benevolent gesture.

"If I were like you I could do this?" He pointed at the radio and the power moved to the "On" position.

"-And it's magic if the music is groovy," The napper jerked awake and stared at the radio in confusion.

"It makes you feel happy like an old-time movie." Caleb recognized the song. It was one of Alex's favorites. They'd spend an entire afternoon with Alex's parents radio. They'd flipped through stations so Caleb had at least some awareness of what had happened to music in the fifty years he'd been in the dark room. Quite a bit apparently, and in Caleb's view, very little of it good.

"Do You Believe in Magic" had come on and Caleb had decided to add a little spice to the song by demonstrating his developing telekinetic powers to Alex. Alex had been as entranced as Caleb had hoped. As a consequence Alex fairly regularly wheedled Caleb into performing that song over, and over, and over again. It was no surprise when Alex spun to face him, all sad thoughts forgotten.

"Caleb, will you sing?!" Caleb did not know whether to chuckle or groan.

"I don't know Alex. You know it's not really my type of music." This too was part of the routine. Caleb, hemming and hawwing...

"Pleeaassse? You sing it so nice!" Alex begging and flattering...

"Alright, but only if you're my band." And then Caleb finally giving in. "Are we agreed?" Alex nodded eagerly. He held out his sand bucket with one hand and his shovel with the other in a ready position.

Caleb started snapping his fingers in time with the song. Alex obediently started tapping the rhythm in his bucket. When Caleb was sure Alex had the beat he transported himself to the top of the play structure's tower. Caleb sang down as Alex beamed up at him from the ground.

"I'll tell you about the magic, and it'll free your soul, But it's like trying to tell a stranger 'bout a rock 'n' roll."

Caleb swayed with the music, noticing something odd as he did. He would swear that people were looking at him.

"If you believe in magic don't bother to choose, if it's jug band music or rhythm and blues. Just go and listen it'll start with a smile, that won't wipe off your face no matter how hard you try."

They were still looking. A hope bloomed in Caleb's chest. He shouldn't indulge in it. He knew it was impossible and yet….

Caleb spotted a table about twenty feet away with some parents sitting at it. He instantaneously transported himself on top of it. Once Caleb appeared, there was no doubt in his mind that their eyes were locked on him. He soaked up their amazement like they were water and he a sponge. His eyes returned to Alex who faithfully kept tapping on his bucket from a few yards away.

"Your feet start tapping, and you can't seem to find, how you got there, so just blow your mind. If you believe in magic come along with me-"

He jerked his head at Alex to follow him. Disappearing once more, he re-materialized on an empty seesaw. He danced from the low end to the high end as he sang, aware a crowd was slowly converging on him.

It was incredible! The closest he'd ever gotten to the feeling was when he'd consumed five cups of coffee in the course of one hour. His entire being was buzzing.

"We'll dance until morning till there's just you and me. And maybe if the music is right, I'll meet you tomorrow sorta late at night, and we'll go dancing baby, then you'll see how the magic's in the music, and the music's in me." Caleb hopped off the seesaw and with a wave of his hand started it rocking up and down to the music.

"Yeah, do you believe in magic?" He pointed at an empty swing and with a twirled of his finger wound the chains and then released them to spin out. His audience clapped in admiration.

They were crowding him too tightly. He needed space if he didn't want to be revealed as noncorporeal. Caleb vanished and reappeared back in his original perch.

"Yeah, believe in the magic of the young girl's soul,"

The crowd sighted him and followed him like rats behind the Piper Pied of Hamelin.

"Believe in the magic of a rock 'n' roll, believe-"

Suddenly a collective gasp went up and people began buzzing, despite the fact Caleb was still singing.

"-in the magic that can set you free. Ahh, talking 'bout the magic."

"Where did he go? I hear him, but I don't see him!" Caleb waved his hands but no one took notice.

"Do you believe in magic?" He'd gone invisible again. Why? And where was Alex? He scanned the crowd. He'd gotten so caught up in the attention he'd completely lost sight of him. Suddenly he sighted the back of the boy's head. His mother had him at the edge of the grass, dragging him away from Caleb towards their car.

"Did you see that?! That was incredible!"

What possibly could be upsetting the woman? She couldn't have a problem with magicians. She'd hired one for her son's party last year. He'd have to speak with Alex about it later.

"Do you believe, believer?" It seemed at least one mystery was solved. The temporary visibility was connected to Alex. When he got pulled away by his mother, Caleb became invisible again. Interestingly though, he could be heard on his own. It hadn't worked that way with speaking, but singing apparently was another story.

"How did he do that? Mirrors and a speaker?"

"Do you believe in magic?" He'd never been heard rehearsing in the hotel, but that was inside an abandoned building. If Caleb moved his performance outdoors, then he could sing for living audiences again.

"In a park? Unlikely? Do you think we were all hypnotized?"

"Do you believe in magic?" Would it work for his band as well? He wasn't sure how he felt about singing with no accompaniment whatsoever.

"Why do you think he was here? Do you think he's drumming up business for kid's parties?" Caleb had been half-listening to the comments of his audience, but that last sentence got his full attention. He was about to show the man a taste of his "children's party" magic when his companion gave a disbelieving snort.

"A man that talented is not playing children's parties. Mark my words, in a few days we'll hear about him playing a theatre downtown. This was probably a publicity stunt." Caleb smirked to himself. That was more like it. Theatres. Sold out crowds. The adoration of millions. That his reality in life and that was his destiny in death. He'd make sure of it.

#caleb covington #jatp fanfiction #jatp fanfic #julie and the phantoms fanfiction #alex mercer #luke patterson

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pulpwriterx · 5 years ago

Text

ALWAYS BEN SOLO: A STAR WARS STORY

What if Ben Solo had just escaped the Jedi Temple and Yavin-4 the night that his Uncle tried to kill him? What if nothing had burned, and no one had died that night? What if he had trusted his father enough to help him get away, and his mother enough to tell her about Snoke? What if he could hear Anakin's voice, then? This is that story.

CHAPTER 1: RUN, BEN, RUN!

Ben Solo awoke, and saw his Master, his Uncle, standing over him with a lightsaber.

He summoned his, and defended himself.

Ben knew he couldn’t beat his Uncle Luke with the Force, but he also knew he had greater physical strength.

When they were at crossed sabers, Ben punched Luke Skywalker in the face as hard as he could.

Uncle Luke flew back against the wall and slumped down, unconscious.

“Oh, shit!”

Ben was in a panic.

He felt alone.

His Master, his Uncle wanted him dead.

The Dark Side courted and tortured him in the person of Master Snoke.

His mother, who had left him to either his father’s world or his Uncle’s since he was 13 would never believe him.

Was this it?

Did he have no choice but to go to Master Snoke?

But whereas Ben considered the Jedi to be an ivory tower of unrealistic hypocrites, the Sith were a gang of power hungry killers who had used his beloved Grandfather's weakness to turn him into their pawn.

Ben didn’t want to be a Jedi monk and his mother and Uncle's shining saint, nor did he want to be a pitiless warlord doing the Sith's murderous dirty work.

He realized that what he really wanted was to tear it all down.

The Light, the Dark, the Jedi, the Sith.

But how?

If he was ever to figure that out, if he was ever to be free?

He had to run.

But where?

Dad.

The Old Man wasn’t the Father of the Year, but the times that Ben had fled Uncle Luke and the Jedi Temple over the past ten years, and spent time with the Old Man were his happiest times.

The last time he had escaped, he was gone for almost two years, and the Old Man hadn’t wanted to take Ben to the Jedi Temple any more than Ben had wanted to go.

He would get to the spaceport, and radio to his father for help.

He had to believe his Dad would save him.

Ben checked to see if his Uncle was alive, and finding that he was?

He quickly gathered up everything he could shove into a duffel bag, put his boots on threw it over his shoulder and ran.

Literally.

Ben ran from the Jedi Temple, borrowed a speeder, and ran down the road, and he was still running when he got to the little town around the spaceport that was once the Rebel Base on Yavin 4.

He burst into the cantina, and was immediately surrounded by pilots, scavengers, smugglers and pirates who knew him and his father.

Ben felt immense relief.

He went up to the bar.

“Holy Mother Force, Ben, your face is bleeding! look like someone just walked over your grave! What did those crazy fanatics do to you?”

Ben touched his face.

He was bleeding pretty hard.

“I need a fucking drink. I need to get the fuck out if here. Fast. I need to call my father. I need to use your radio. Please, help me. They want me dead. They tried to kill me. I had to run for my life.” Ben explained.

The bartender drew him a pitcher of Arkanian ale, and poured him a shot of Huttese Whiskey.

“Sure, kid, sure. You can hide in the radio room. Eat something. Trixie? They hurt Ben! Come out here and bring the first aid kit!”

Trixie, the Askajian barmaid, rushed out and bandaged Ben’s head and face up.

As soon as he had drank his drinks and eaten his sandwiches, Ben went into the back and radioed the Falcon, two or three times.

“Ben, do you know what time…”

“DAD! Yeah, you bet I know what fucking time it is! It’s time for you to fucking listen to me! This Jedi shit is murder! Literally! Dad you gotta help me! Uncle Luke tried to murder me he was standing over me while I was asleep with a lightsaber! He grazed my face, and I'm hurt! Just get me out of here and as far away from this Jedi shit that there is oh, Dad, I’m so fuckin’ scared! Please Dad please.”

“Luke did what?"

Ben began to cry.

“You don’t believe me, do you, Dad? Holy Mother Force! For once in your life, don’t be a fuckin’ asshole and let me down! Just get me out of this! I’m hurt, and I’m scared and I need you to be my goddamn father, for kark’s sake!” Ben wailed.

Then he just began sobbing.

Now Han was getting scared, too.

“Alright, Ben. Okay. Calm down. You sound terrified, kid. I believe you. I have to. I’ll come get you. Right now. Stay in the radio room and wait for me. If your Uncle comes back for you, don’t go with him. Tell him I’m coming to take you home.”

“Where’s home, Dad? Where? I don’t have one. I’m not safe! I’m not safe!"

Ben was on the verge of hysteria.

Han was strangely calm.

“You got a home, Ben. The Falcon is your home. I’m flying it, to get you, right now. And you’re safe with me and your Uncle Chewie. I promise.”

***

The two hours Ben waited in the radio room crouched fearfully behind the desk were the longest of his life.

He had never been so happy to see his father since he was a little boy.

Han ran into the room, with Chewbacca right behind him.

“Chewie, look. There’s blood on the floor. Luke must have hurt him! Ben? Where the hell are you?”

“Behind the desk.”

Han couldn’t believe that Ben could have wedged his big body into such a small space.

He moved the desk, and Ben was crouched there, with a bloody makeshift bandage around his head and part of his face, holding the blaster Lando had given him in his trembling hands.

Han's face distorted with anger and disbelief.

“What the fuck? Your head's bleeding! Do you still have an eye under there, Ben?"

Han pulled Ben out of the hole and Ben clung to his father like he was five, again.

He was trembling all over, in terror.

“I’m so scared, Dad. You gotta help me. Don’t make me go back! Don’t let them have me!”

“I won’t, Ben. I promise.”

Ben took a few steps and reeled.

“My head feels funny. I only drank one pitcher of beer. And I had two shots.”

“Not good when you got a head wound, kid. Chewie, get Ben. I’ll get his bag. We'll go out the back.”

They got Ben to the Falcon in a hurry and Han jumped blindly to hyperspace, not even caring where he ended up, as long as it was far away from Yavin 4.

***

In his hysteria, Ben told his father everything.

Chewie flew the Falcon while Han tried to do something about the bleeding slash from Ben’s scalp, past his eye, to the bridge of his nose.

He was putting clips on it.

“Don’t worry, Ben. It’ll be an interesting scar, not a disfiguring one. So, this Snoke guy is invading your mind, and torturing you. Have you ever seen him in person?”

“Not since I was a kid. I didn’t know he was a Sith, then.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“They wouldn’t believe me, Dad! In their happy fuckin’ world, everything is perfect, the good guys won and the Sith are gone. You see what happens when that’s not true?”

Ben was completely hysterical, hovering between fear and rage.

“Yeah. Instead of helping you, Luke goes crazy and tries to kill you, not this Snoke guy. Well, where is this Sith bastard?”

“Why, Dad?”

“Because we have to kill him.”

“It’s not that easy. He’d sense you coming a mile away. He wants me. If I was strong enough, and I could convince him I was interested in joining the Sith? I could kill him. But I’m not strong enough. And I’m not interested.”

“Then you can get strong in the Force, on your own, and you can go kill him. I mean, who says you need a teacher? How hard can it be for a Skywalker? You could do Force shit when you were five. Do it your way, Ben. Is that guy in your head, now?”

“Not really. When I’m not in the midst of all that Jedi stuff, I can block him out of my mind.”

“Then block him out of your mind. Because you’re not going to be around that shit, anymore. You feel better, kid?”

“Some.”

“Ben, you got me. You got Chewie. You got Lando. And you got your brains, your Force ability, your lightsaber, and your blaster. It’s like you told me, once. Dark Side? Light Side? Fuck it. My side. You stick with that, and forget this Jedi versus Sith shit? You'll be OK. Now go to your cabin, and clean up, and lie down. Get some sleep. We’ll take you to Bespin, to see one of Lando’s doctors. Get your wound taken care of.”

“You sure, Dad? You won’t make me go back?”

“With a Sith Lord trying to mind fuck you into being Vader Jr. and Luke trying to murder you? Fuck no. If anybody wants you, even if it’s your mother or your Uncle? They'll have to go through me to get you. I might not have been the Father of the Year, but this is Dad 101. Don’t let anybody hurt your kid. Go to bed. It’s OK, Ben.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

Ben shuffled off to his cabin.

“What the fuck is going on, Chewie? Has everyone lost their minds? I told Leia, you are putting way too much shit on that kid's shoulders. Let him do what he wants. He’s a man, now. He’s seen my world, and yours. Let him find his own way. But she never wanted to hear that. Well, Leia’s going to have to listen. Meanwhile? I can’t even tell her or Luke where Ben is. Not till we figure out what to do.”

Chewie shook his head, sadly, and set a course for Bespin.

***

Luke Skywalker came to in his nephew's disarrayed room.

Outside, everything was normal.

But Ben was gone.

Luke gave his students a day off, saying he had urgent Republic business, and he took a speeder and went to find Ben.

He had left a trail of blood to the speeders.

Luke realized he must have clipped Ben with the lightsaber.

Luke went to the spaceport cantina, but they stonewalled him.

Ben had probably radioed Han, and was off-world by now.

Luke returned, and got Han on the Falcon’s radio.

“Kid, you got a lot of balls calling me! You disfigured my son's face while you were trying to cut his head off!”

“By the Force, did I? Did Ben lose an eye?”

“He could have. It’ll be an interesting scar, not a disfiguring one.”

“Just tell me if he’s safe, Han. I don’t know what I was thinking. I sensed a threat, a dark presence, and now I see that it wasn’t coming from Ben; it was around him. Tempting him. But he didn’t do anything but run.”

Han let out a long sigh.

“Yeah. Ben is safe. And he’s going to stay safe, because he’s done with all that Jedi shit. He doesn’t want to come back to you, and I won’t make him. Hell, I won’t let him!”

“His blood was all over the road. I’m worried about him. Did you get him to a doctor?”

There was anguish in Luke's voice.

“Yeah. I did. The doctor says it’s not bad. And he can make the scar minimal. Luke, why? Don’t give me this Force shit, either? Why?”

“I got scared. I lost my temper. Who did this to us, Han? Me and Ben? Did he tell you?”

“A Sith Lord. Snoke. He haunts Ben’s mind. He wants him to become another Vader.”

“That’s why Ben doesn’t want to finish his Jedi training? Because he doesn’t want to be used as a pawn by the Sith! By the Force! The fiend must have been tormenting Ben for years!”

“Yeah. And playing nice with him when he was a kid. Visiting with Ben righr under your nose! You missed that. Here’s the deal, Luke. Ben thinks the Jedi and the Sith are trying to use him as a pawn. He wants nothing to do with any of it. And I agree with him. Ben’s a tough kid, Luke. And he’s terrified. He was crouched in a three foot space with a blaster in his hand, half-drunk. Whatever this Snoke guy is selling? Ben doesn’t want any of it. And after what you did? I figure he'll be finding his own way with the Force, like his mother has.”

“This is too much. This is terrible. What will we tell Leia? Let me talk to her. I failed Ben. It’s my fault. At least I know he’s fighting it. Just…keep him safe, Han. Please. And…tell him I’m sorry. Tell him I know I’ve done the wrong thing. A terrible thing. But I only because I’m almost as scared as he is.”

***

Ben felt safer on Bespin, but despite the doctor giving him a sedative, he couldn't sleep.

He was still terrified.

But his mind was free of Snoke.

Somehow, in the simple act of fighting his Uncle off and immediately fleeing into the night he had undone the Sith Lord's plans, or showed him he wanted none of them, or maybe Snoke was just regrouping.

But Ben was free of the presence that had dogged him relentlessly through all of his most recent year at the Jedi Temple.

Then?

Ben heard another voice.

Not Vader’s.

Like it, but not Vader’s.

“Ben? You can hear me? Finally?”

The room glowed softly blue.

The hulking man in Jedi robes sitting on the end of his bed was about the same size as he was, and he had the same prominent features; his hair was reddish brown, though, instead of black.

“Grandfather?” Ben asked.

He could feel fear leaving him.

“Yes, Ben! Finally! I can feel your fear leaving you. That is good. But you can’t relax your vigilance. Listen to me. Now that you know my presence? Don’t be fooled by anyone imitating me. Your instincts are sound. It’s time for there to be no Dark and no Light. No Jedi and no Sith. Time for a new path. A path of balance, where the Force is United. But you do need a guide. I know now is not the time. What you need now is to feel safe. Protected. You will have me to protect you, too. I am more powerful than Master Snoke. I will keep him away from you, until you have recovered from this terrible attack.”

“Why did Uncle Luke attack me?”

“He was afraid. And when Skywalkers get scared, rage comes. You know that, Ben.”

Ben nodded.

“I know. I was angry, too. But I was more frightened than angry. So I ran.”

“Sometimes retreat is your only option for victory. Had you given in to your rage and struck my son down? You would be a pawn in Snoke’s hands, now. Luke is as frightened as you are. Leia will be furious. It will be her instinct to immediately focus her considerable powers to destroy the threat. It falls to me to lead you all. I have been waiting. I am ready.”

“What should I do, now? Find my own way in the Force?”

“You must reach your own balance between the Dark and the Light, Ben. Then I can guide you. But first? You must admit that both live in your soul, and only then can you find your equilibrium. While you undertake this task? I will protect you from Snoke. But, after I become your guide? You will have to learn to deal with him.”

At least it was a plan that made sense to Ben.

“What about right now?”

“After you have slept? Talk to your mother. And I will speak with my son. Eventually, you must speak to him, too. But not yet. As for Snoke? My daughter and I will deal with him, for now. But in the future? When you are strong enough? You will destroy him, and his evil.”

“You will be my Master, grandfather?”

“No. You will be your own Master, Ben. I will be your teacher. And your guide. But now you must rest, so that your mind and spirit can heal. You’re in your rogue father’s rogue crony’s stronghold. The two of them, and the Wookiee, won’t let so much as droid past them. You are safe. I hate to say it, but your instinct was correct. When you are with Captain Solo? You are safe. Lie down, now. I will stay with you, while you sleep. You will not dream of the Dark Side.”

“Will I see more of you now, Grandfather?”

“Yes. Almost as much as if I were alive. All the love and attention that you have not had from your mother, your father and your Uncle? You will have from me. I have no other distractions. No other purpose, Ben, than to love and teach and support you. My love for you gives me form, and purpose, and the ability to come to this world. Sleep well, my boy. Sleep well every night, knowing that Anakin Skywalker, Darth Vader, is watching over you. I am your sword and your shield, until you learn to defend and protect yourself. Sleep. And know how well you are loved.” Anakin promised.

Ben allowed the sedative to take effect, and he drifted off to sleep.

***

Han did not wait for Luke to talk to Leia.

He checked on Ben, and found him asleep, at last.

Then he immediately got Leia on the radio.

“I’ve been calling you and calling you! Something happened to Ben! I can feel that something is wrong. Is he sick? Hurt?” she insisted.

“Ben’s OK, now. He’s with me and Chewie. Hidden in a safe place. But something is sure as shit wrong! Luke tried to cut his head off with a lightsaber, while he slept. Ben’s going to have a little scar, but he'll be fine.”

“WHAT? Luke did what? A little scar! Where?”

“On his face.”

“My brother disfigured our son's face while trying to murder him?”

“It’s going to be a little scar. Once it heals. The kind women find interesting. I’ve talked to Luke about what he did. He admitted it. Ben’s not a little kid, anymore. He’s got to be a really big man. And he was cowering behind a desk. In a three foot spot. After I pulled him out, Ben was clinging to me, screaming and weeping. He hid all night, crying and drinking beer. I never saw him so terrified. I thought he was going to die of sheer fright. But I got him to a doctor and a safe place, and he’s OK, now. I just checked on the kid. He’s finally asleep.”

“Holy Mother Force, Han!”

“It gets worse. So Ben tells me some Sith guy named Snoke is in his head. That this Sith Master showed up to talk to him, in person. Ben’s afraid of him, too. I guess he did something to make Luke think Ben joined the circus. But he hasn’t. I told you this Jedi shit wasn’t good for him.”

“Well, I need to talk to him. Why would he tell you these things and not me? Why didn’t he tell us years ago?”

“When, Leia? When we weren’t busy? Ben’s afraid of you, too. He thinks you’ll send him right back to Crazy Uncle Luke and shove him into the arms of the guy who wants to make him Vader Jr. Ben wants nothing to do with any of it. Sith. Jedi. None of it. He’s a man, now, he’s old enough to decide what he wants, and he wants to stick with me. And I am not sending him back there. Never. No matter what you say. That’s it. No more Jedi shit for Ben.”

“He didn’t tell Luke about this Sith Lord?”

“He’s terrified of both of you. Me, he just thinks I’m a fuckin’ asshole. He told me so, and he’s probably right. But this time I’m gonna do the right thing. Because, right now Ben thinks Anakin Skywalker is great. Right now he still understands he was not so great when he was Vader. Right now. I think we need to keep it that way.”

Leia sighed.

“I couldn’t follow the Jedi path. Neither could my father. Ben can’t, either. We’ll have to help him find his own path.”

“Who? What? What the fuck does any of that shit matter?” Han insisted.

“You know what, Han? It doesn’t. When Ben wakes up, tell him I am not going to make him go back to Luke. Tell him I said I respect his choice. And ask him if he’ll talk to me. As his mother. He doesn’t even have to tell me where he is. I just want to talk to him. OK?”

“OK. I wish you were here, Leia.”

“I do, too.”

***

Ben agreed to talk to his mother, on the radio.

“Is it bad, Ben? Your face. I’ve been talking to reconstructive surgeons all day. I know how sensitive you are about your face.”

“Its OK, Mom. It’s not going to be a big deal.”

“Well, if you change your mind, I have a doctor lined up. Oh, Ben, I…I went wrong, somewhere. But I love you, and I want to make things right. I’m going to start talking to my father, as much as I don’t want to. I won’t let the Sith take you away from me. I won’t.”

Ben didn’t know what to say.

Leia sighed.

“I see that half of the money you got from your trust when you turned 21 is gone. Where did it go?”

“I’m having a YT-2400 custom built for me. Using some of my own designs. I’m going to call her the Hellfire.” Ben answered.

Enthusiastically.

“That’s a fairly practical use for money for a young man. I thought you were spending it on girls.”

“What girls, Mom?”

“You might have been a late bloomer, Ben, but I know you know about lot of girls.”

“You mean like Trixie at the Yavin-4 Spaceport Cantina?”

“Please tell me you didn’t. Even if you did.”

“I thought about it. Yeah I know a lot of girls. I know just about every girl at the Jedi Temple who’s over the Galactic Age of Consent. Not that I’m complaining. But they only like me for a little while, or they only like me at night, without my pants on. Like at the Temple. They all act like they didn’t even know me. Until they do. I’d spend money on a girl, if I could keep one.”

Leia wanted to laugh.

“Ben, your female classmates took a vow of chastity. They can’t act like they're crazy about you in public.”

“I never thought of that. Maybe they miss me.”

“They?”

“Yeah. I had the girls spaced out to different days of the week. Every day, I miss that day's girlfriend.”

Leia was at a loss for what to tell him.

And she was still trying not to laugh.

“You’re still too young to worry about getting serious about a girl. Or a series of them. Tell me about your ship.”

“Its gonna be great! All black, black as a raven’s wing. With red piping and Beskar steel chrome. And I’m having moulded retractable housings put over all the guns. To make the ship more aerodynamic. She’ll have the latest model hyperdrive, and I specifically designed the, uh, secret compartments to fit their different cargoes. Two layers. Where each false bottom has a false bottom. And in the cargo bay, a station for my TIE Fighter. I’m having the whole interior done in Beskar chrome, black leather and red Endor mahogany. I made the Captain’s cabin a little bigger than usual, so it’s big enough for me. Wait till you her, Mom.”

“Space really is your home, isn’t it, Ben?”

“I am a Skywalker. King of the Sky. The stars belong to me.” He replied.

“Well, since you’ve got your own ship, you should finish your last year at the Republic Academy.”

“I don’t need a commission to be a pilot, Mom.”

“But you liked the Republic Academy. You want to be a pilot, not a Jedi? I accept that. But you have to finish your education. Even your father finished school at the Imperial Academy. I want you to finish school.”

“On Coruscant?”

“Yes. Maybe you and your old man can come home for the Fall semester. I haven’t sold the penthouse, yet. And we can do family shit, until you graduate. Yell. Throw things at each other. Just like old times."

Ben laughed.

“I could do that.”

“I want you to. I want you to concentrate on what you want to do. Who you want to be. I admit it. I was wrong. I pushed you too hard to do what I wanted. So, can we compromise on this? You can go play pirates with your Dad, as long as you finish school. In case you ever want to do anything else with your life.”

“I’ll give it a shot, Mom. The Hellfire will be finished, by the Fall semester. You’re…you’re not mad at me? Really?”

“No, Ben. I’m not. Can I come and see you? I won’t nag you, or your father about where you’re going or what you’re doing all spring and summer. I just want to see you, and make sure you’re alright.”

Leia felt the conflict in Ben.

He wanted to trust her.

But he was afraid.

“I had a long talk with my Dear Old Dad. I’m not opposed to him guiding you. As long as he lets me in on what he’s doing. And I think I'll take over your non-metaphysical training. You know. The fun stuff. Lighsaber fights. Obstacle courses. Beating the drone with the blast shield down. Except I’m not going to coddle you, like Luke coddles you kids. It’s going to be hard. The way reality is.”

That swept the last of Ben’s conflict away.

He knew she was with him.

“We’re on Bespin. Don’t let anyone follow you.”

“I know that, Ben. I’ll see you, soon.”

#ben solo #ben solo lives #reylo #star wars fanfiction #rey #tros fix it #save ben solo

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