#carry this little joy with me (⁠/⁠^⁠-⁠^⁠(⁠^⁠ ⁠^⁠*⁠)⁠/

[citrusipop]

Pagtingin! . hyun-ju

" When I reveal my feelings I hope your opinion of me won't change When I confess my secrets I hope your opinion of me won't change " - patingin by ben&ben

in which . in which Hyun-ju comes back after the events of the game and she happens to bump into her partner who she left without an explanation.

cho hyun-ju x reader (fem) . angst/fluff

based off . ♡

Strolling through the busy streets, you stumbled upon your favorite café. As you stepped inside, you were greeted by the comforting aroma of coffee and vanilla, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Sweet bossa nova music played softly in the background, blending with the gentle hum of conversations. It was the perfect day to settle down and work in the cozy atmosphere of the café. After ordering your usual coffee and sweet treats, you made your way to a nearby table by the window.

Taking your seat, you gazed out at the bustling street. Sure, it might seem cliché to some—a solitary figure at a window seat in a café—but to you, it was a small joy. The window wasn’t just a pane of glass; it was a lens into the endless stories unfolding outside. Watching strangers go about their lives, you found yourself imagining their worlds. Two girls walked past in school uniforms—you guessed they were high schoolers, maybe around fourteen or fifteen. Your eyes followed a middle-aged man pedaling his bike, his neatly pressed office attire suggesting he worked in accounting or something similar.

It fascinated you how everyone’s lives were so different from your own. Each person outside that window carried a story you’d never fully know, lives that were nothing like yours—boring, miserable, yet oddly peaceful and happy in their own way. And for a moment, watching them, you felt connected to something bigger, as though their differences somehow brought you closer to understanding your own quiet existence.

Your thoughts suddenly come to an end when you hear a group of people laughing next to you. You wish you had your earbuds with you to drown out the sounds but the gods were against you and made you forget to bring it. Wallowing in your sadness, you heard a familiar laugh coming from the table next to you and it made your mind race, turning to the table next to you…

It was her. For a moment, you froze, your breath hitching in your chest. Oh, how you wished this was a dream—because it certainly felt like one. A dream so vivid, so achingly beautiful, that the thought of waking up filled you with dread. But it wasn’t a dream. The world around you blurred and faded, leaving only her, like the central figure in a watercolor painting.

And then you heard it, her laughter. That soft, melodic sound you thought you’d forgotten but never truly could. It was like a gentle breeze carrying fragments of your past, filling you with a bittersweet ache. That laughter brought you back to a time when everything felt lighter, simpler, and whole. Nostalgia crashed into you, raw and unrelenting, pulling at the corners of your heart.

You wanted to move, to say something, but all you could do was sit there, drinking in the moment. That sound, that sight of her—it was a warmth you hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever. And for just an instant, you allowed yourself to believe that this wasn’t just a fleeting memory or a trick of your longing mind but something real, something you could hold onto, even if only for a little while.

You hadn’t realized how long your gaze had been fixed on her until you noticed she was looking back at you. Her almond-shaped brown eyes met yours, locking you in place. She gave you a smile like before, but your mind drifted to how beautiful and ethereal she looked as the sun from the window embraced her figure. Her hair was tied neatly into a ponytail, the soft simple makeup making her look beautiful. You felt like you were seeing an angel for the first time, you felt like you were seeing her for the first time. And it made her heart skip a beat. You noticed how she excused herself to her friends and she was now making her way towards your table, quickly you moved your laptop and notepad away, your fingers running through your hair as you fixed it and made it look more presentable. 

“Hi…” Hyun-ju said shyly, looking right at you with a soft smile, you looked up from your notepad and gave her a tight smile. Awkward silence filled the air as the tall woman stood still in front of your table, you took notice and felt bad. You motioned your hand to the empty chair in front of you indicating that she can take that seat. Another set of awkward silence filled the coffee shop, the tension was so thick you felt as if coming to this cafe was a mistake. 

“You look beautiful today.��

The words hung in the air, soft but sincere, making Hyun-ju pause. Her eyes flickered to you, but you avoided her gaze, focusing instead on the cup in your hands. Still, the familiar warmth spread through her chest. Hearing you call her beautiful always meant the world to her. It was a reminder that you saw her, loved her, just as she was. Yet, the pang of guilt was unavoidable. She had walked away without a word, leaving behind questions that she still couldn’t answer.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes caught the faint smile tugging at your lips, and something shifted. A flicker of hope sparked within her, a fragile belief that maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance to mend what had been broken.

As if on cue, both of you started speaking at the same time, your voices overlapping awkwardly. You exchanged startled glances before bursting into quiet laughter, the sound breaking the tension between you. It was a silly, fleeting moment, but it carried a strange weight. For a second, it felt like you were teenagers again, stumbling through the nerves of a first date. Or perhaps it was just the awkwardness of two people who once knew each other so well, trying to find their footing again.

You stole another glance at Hyun-ju, and the sight of her hit you harder than you expected. The ache in your chest flared up, a sharp reminder of the emptiness her absence had left behind. No matter how much you had tried to fill that void, it had never worked. And now, sitting here with her, you couldn’t help but wonder if that missing piece had always been her.

But words refused to come. Your throat tightened, the lump there stubbornly blocking every thought, every feeling you wanted to voice. The two of you sat in silence, the weight of everything unspoken pressing down. Yet, in the quiet, there was something unbreakable—a connection that time and distance hadn’t erased.

You hear Hyun-ju clear her throat, you glance at her as she says, “I…I miss you, it’s been a while.” It made you smile a bit despite the hurt you were feeling inside, “I miss you too.” You said softly, as your thumb caresses the warm cup of coffee. You never felt this wave of emotions before, something so bittersweet. Sadness and hurt was evident on your face and Hyun-ju can clearly see it. 

Your teary eyes locked with hers. “Funny, isn’t it? It’s been five weeks. Five weeks since I last heard from you.” Your voice wavered, though you tried to mask it with a frown. “And now, here you are, showing up as if nothing happened.” The words came out colder than you intended, laced with the bitterness that had been festering in the void her absence left behind.

Hyun-ju stood frozen, her lips parting slightly as if to speak, but no words came. What could she even say? Would you believe her if she told you the truth? That she had been kidnapped, thrust into a series of deadly games because of her debts and her desperation to complete her transition? That she had watched countless lives end in horrifying ways, the weight of survival pressing down on her with every passing second?

You noticed the flicker of conflict in her expression, and it only fueled your frustration. “Look,” you said sharply, “if you don’t want to deal with this—us—it’s fine. Just say it.” Your voice cracked, but before you could say more, Hyun-ju cut you off.

“Y/N.” Her voice was firm, but there was a tremor in it. “I never said I didn’t want this. Or that I wanted it to be over. You mean too much to me.” Her gaze dropped, her voice softening. “You… you wouldn’t understand. That’s the problem.”

“Understand what, Hyun-ju?” you snapped, your frustration boiling over. “You can’t just show up and expect me to be okay after you disappeared without a word. No call, no text, nothing. Five weeks, Hyun-ju. Five.” Your hands trembled as you clenched them into fists, your voice growing harsher. “Do you know how hard I tried to find you? How much I worried? Don’t tell me I don’t understand when you’re not even telling me what I’m supposed to understand.”

Your words hung heavy in the air, cutting through the fragile tension like a blade. You didn’t want to sound this harsh, but the hurt, confusion, and stress had built up too much to hold back. It wasn’t just the absence that hurt—it was the silence, the unanswered questions, the sense that she had left you in the dark without a second thought.

The tone of your voice cut through Hyun-ju’s heart more deeply than you could ever know. Her chest ached with guilt, the weight of her choices pressing down on her. She had thought leaving without a word was the right thing to do—a way to protect you from the chaos of her life. But now, facing the consequences, she realized how wrong she had been. Immature. Thoughtless.

“I just…” Her voice faltered, barely above a whisper. “I thought you wouldn’t love me anymore… that I’d be a disgrace to you, the way I am to everyone else.” Her words were soft, almost as if she was afraid of saying them out loud, afraid of the weight they carried.

Hearing her broke something in you. You had been so consumed by your own pain, your own confusion, that you hadn’t stopped to see hers. In that moment, you realized it wasn’t just you who had been hurting. She had been carrying her own burden of fear and self-doubt, silently tearing herself apart. And now, her vulnerability was laid bare, raw and trembling in front of you.

“You deserve someone better than me, Y/N,” Hyun-ju whispered, her voice trembling. “You can’t be in a relationship with someone like me—”

Before she could finish, you reached out, gently taking her soft, larger hand in yours. “Stop,” you said firmly, your voice steady but full of emotion. “I don’t care, Hyun-ju. I don’t care about any of that.”

Your thumb gently traced small circles over her hand, grounding both of you in the moment. “I love you for who you are. Every part of you. To me, you’re perfect—the most beautiful woman in the world. And honestly, it amazes me every single day that you chose someone like me to be with you.”

A tear slipped down your cheek as you gave her a soft, heartfelt smile. It wasn’t just your words that spoke—it was the way you looked at her, as if she was the only person in the world who mattered. 

Hyun-ju let out a choked sob, gripping your hand tightly as if you might disappear. “I just… I thought that one day you’d wake up and realize you deserve someone better. That—That you’d see I’m not enough for you because I’m not perfect.” Her voice cracked as tears spilled freely down her cheeks. “This body… this body that I’ve fought so hard for, it’s still not enough. People look at me and see a lie, a joke. I thought maybe one day you’d see me the same way, and it would break me, Y/N. It would destroy me.”

Her words came in waves, each one laced with years of pain and fear. “You deserve someone who doesn’t have to fight to exist. Someone who doesn’t carry the kind of baggage I do. I’ve seen the way people stare at us when we’re together. The way they judge you just for loving me. And I thought… maybe you’d get tired of it. Of me. Of always having to defend me, to fight for me. I thought you’d leave, and I didn’t think I’d survive it.”

Her voice grew softer, trembling as she continued. “You have no idea what it’s like… to constantly wonder if the people who love you will stop when they finally see you for who you really are.”

The raw vulnerability in her words cut through you like a knife. God, it pained you to see her like this. Without hesitation, you rose from your seat and moved to her side. Kneeling down, you gently placed your fingers under her chin, lifting her face so she could meet your gaze.

“Oh, love,” you murmured, your voice soft yet steady. “I will never, ever leave you. Not now, not ever. Do you hear me?” You brushed away the tears streaming down her face, your touch gentle and reassuring. “You are enough, Hyun-ju. You’re more than enough. You’re the bravest woman I know. You’ve fought battles most people couldn’t even imagine, and you’ve come out stronger every time.”

You gave her a soft smile, hoping it could reach the cracks in her heart. “You’re my Hyun-ju. The one who fills my life with warmth and love. The one who makes those incredible meals so I don’t have to spend a dime eating out. And the one who makes me laugh when I don’t even think I can smile.”

Your thumb stroked her cheek as you looked into her tear-filled eyes. “I don’t care what the world thinks, or what anyone says. I see you, Hyun-ju. I love you. Every single part of you. And nothing, nothing will ever change that.”

In that moment, you weren’t just offering her words—you were offering her a piece of your soul, a promise that no matter what storms came your way, you would face them together.

“I love you, Hyun-ju. All of you. Your body, your personality—everything. I love you,” you whispered, your voice steady and filled with sincerity.

You leaned in slowly, giving her a moment to meet you halfway. As your lips met hers, the kiss was tender, a gentle melding of emotions rather than just a physical gesture. It was soft but full of meaning, as if you were pouring all the love, reassurance, and devotion you felt into that single moment.

Her lips trembled against yours, and you could feel the faint taste of salt from her tears, but neither of you pulled away. Instead, you cupped her face with both hands, your thumbs brushing away the wet trails on her cheeks. She responded hesitantly at first, as though afraid to believe this was real, but then her hands found their way to your arms, holding onto you as though grounding herself in your presence.

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads pressed together, her breath mingling with yours. “You’re my everything, Hyun-ju,” you said softly, gazing into her tearful eyes. “Always.”

“I love you too.”

You smiled softly, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her cheek. “How about I buy you that favorite dessert of yours?” you offered, your voice light and filled with affection.

Taking her hand in yours, you gave it a reassuring squeeze before flashing her a smile—one of those rare, genuine smiles that you saved just for her. It was the kind of smile that spoke volumes, one that told her she was cherished, loved, and safe with you.

As you walked out of the café, your gaze lingered on Hyun-ju, unable to help but admire her once more. You silently thanked the gods for blessing you with such a wonderful partner, vowing to do anything for her.

a/n . i told myself I was going to make a part two of mesmerized but I honestly got kind of lazy...and this prompt I could not stop thinking about it. This is my first time writing angst since i'm more of a writer who loves writing tooth rottening fluff....LOL

[possibilistfanfiction]

ive been in complete brainrot mode about your arcane prompts and the way you write the dynamics between cait vi and jinx. like ive just been thinking about potential scenes in this au so if its okay im just going to list down some suggestions for prompts if that’s okay?

- vi gets brought into the hospital because she spent too long in a burning building trying to rescue as many people as she could (because that’s just the kind of person she is). cait and her argue over how sometimes vi needs to put her own safety first while she treats her wounds.

(I’d actually love to read any prompts where cait just simply cares for vi emotionally/physically cause vi’s backstory too makes me froth…) i just want to put her in my pocket and keep her safe :(

- jinx/vander/vi go to the kiramman’s for that dinner party and jinx/cassandra get along super well cause they collaborate on their embarrassing childhood stories about vi and cait. a joint slay

- a cassandra pov chapter as she notices how serious cait is about vi and the little moments between them and what she thinks about vi.

- maybe a cait focused chapter about how much of an empath she is and how exhausting it is to feel so deeply and try so hard to make everything better for everyone.

Thank you so much for writing this au!

You understand these characters so well and i feel for them so much when i read your work. Your writing carries so much heart and bleeds love practically :’)

it’s been all I’ve been thinking about lately and it brightens up my day immensely when i get a notification that you’ve updated! :)

[is there anything so undoing as a daughter! anyway i tried to work most of these in in some way; cassandra pov for u :) ao3 if u want. (also cait is trans bc since this is my au there's no transphobia & i love her)]

//

caitlyn informs you that she's a girl three days before her tenth birthday. she cries, but she's calm, and tobias is first to take her into his arms and tell her that it's good, that it's lovely, that you'll both do everything you can to see her, to make sure she's seen the way she wants to be, the way she is. you hug her too, so tight, because it's one thing to have a son, to instruct, always, how to be thoughtful, and kind, and use all the privilege your last name carries to do good in the world.

your child is thoughtful, and kind, and determined — in spades — with the set of your brow and the blue of your eyes. you do love your child, without reservation.

caitlyn's lip trembles and you brush back her hair that you'll teach her how to take care of when it starts to grow long; she sniffles and you kiss her forehead. she will grow tall and elegant; you and tobias help her choose her great-grandmother's name and then change all of her records accordingly; you take her shopping for new clothes she picks excitedly, and a few years later she beams when she tries on a pretty, simple lace bra; you ask tobias to explain the medications she needs and help her, when she's small, to keep track of them, until she can do it herself; you hold her hand in recovery after each surgery, where she cries in relief and you wipe her tears with a gentle smile. each new stage of belonging brings with it an ease in her breath that you cherish. she grows to be fierce and funny and brave, and still always gentle.

you love her, and you see her — always, she has been yours; she had grown inside your body and you had held her first, the greatest pride and joy of your life.

but it's something you had never been able to prepare yourself for, in any circumstance: a daughter. she undoes you every day.

//

you first hear the name vi — a nickname, of all things, used formally — one sunny, cold afternoon during a late lunch after caitlyn had come over to shoot skeet, a rare day she'd finished work early.

she tells you about her weekend, how she'd climbed and it was sunny and brilliant and she felt strong.

'with jayce?' you ask.

she nods. 'we met some people we ended up climbing with, too,' she says, which is new. 'they were both really good, and very safe. vi,' she tells you, and her voice goes a little reverent, soft around the edges. 'and her sister,' she tacks on, almost an afterthought but not unkind, just not her focus. she clears her throat, a blush spreading across her cheeks, different from the flush that you're accustomed to when you shoot in the cold together. 'anyway,' she says, and you fight a smile behind a sip of tea, 'what did you and dad think of the opera?'

you laugh, but you're relieved too: no one will ever be good enough for her — not only because of the name she carries, one you had carried all your life too, but because she's a force no one can harm, as long as you have any say.

you don't ask more questions after this vi; you tell her about the opera, and then you shoot some more, one more round. she doesn't miss.

//

when caitlyn was born, you held her tight. all day long, people had been in and out to meet her, and she had been so calm. it's not what you or tobias had wanted, but she was the heir to the kiramman name and so her fortune was already set, far before you had cried in joy at the positive pregnancy test on the bathroom counter, tobias laughing delightedly, and far before she came into this world, with grey eyes that will turn electric blue and strong, tiny hands, clenched perpetually. she was so small and so new, and you handed her off to the nurse in the waning hours of the evening so you could sleep through the night.

not even two hours later, though, as the pain was really started to set in and tobias was dosing off in the chair next to you, the nurse had apologetically brought her back, bundled and screaming, her face splotched with red from crying.

'she won't stop,' the nurse said. 'we've tried everything, but she's keeping the other babies up. i'm sorry.'

you shook your head and took her back into your arms while she wailed as much as her little lungs would allow. you wondered about her, everything, because she was a person and there was so much to learn. you unbuttoned your gown and held her to your bare skin; she stopped crying, just like that. she latched onto your breast, easily, and ate a little, and then fell asleep, little sighs filling the room. tobias looks on in a very exhausted awe; you brought your lips to the crown of her head, the soft tuft of dark hair there that smelled so good, beyond anything you could have ever imaged: yours. she didn't fuss when he placed her in the bassinet a few minutes later; she slept all night, wanting just to be near you.

//

you're in your car, your driver regrettably apologizing as you get stuck in a typical rush hour traffic jam on the freeway, when caitlyn calls, a few weeks later.

'are you stuck in this traffic too?' you guess after she asks what you're doing, if you're free.

she groans. 'i was hoping to get home early, have time to decompress and shower before...'

she trails off, a pause you decide to let rest. she's always needed to tell you things in her own time.

'i have a date tonight,' she confesses, and you can hear the giddiness, the nervousness, through the phone.

you hum. 'oh?'

'yeah,' she says, and you stop yourself from chiding her about the informal word. 'i — she's amazing, mom. i just want it to go well.'

'well, you're a kiramman,' you remind her, the reminder thinly veiled under a tinge of encouragement in your tone. 'i'm sure you'll be quite impressive.'

she sighs; you know it's not the reassurance she wanted, but your family doesn't always have that luxury. she doesn't tell you anything else — instead you talk about the upcoming council vote on your latest bill, and how her meeting at work about funding cancer treatments went — and, of course, you don't ask.

//

tobias, always softer than you, especially with your daughter, asks after this vi on sunday. you meet caitlyn for brunch at your usual monthly spot, your mimosas already poured and cortados prepared as you sit down at your table.

'next month, just bring vi,' tobias says when he notices caitlyn's fire department sweatshirt underneath her peacoat. it's not too nice a restaurant for her jeans, boots, and a crew neck, but you are not normal patrons. he laughs when he says it, not disapproving in the slightest, a smirk on his face when you understand the implication: caitlyn had come from vi's home this morning, rather than her own apartment.

'it's serious, then?' you ask, and you try not to feel slighted that tobias seems to know far more about caitlyn's feelings, and vi's existence, than you: it's your own doing.

caitlyn fiddles with the corner of her napkin. 'yes,' she decides on, her smile small and tender, her shoulders soft. 'i'd like if you met her. i... well, i hope she'll be around for a long time.'

you suppose it was bound to happen: caitlyn is beautiful and smart and driven, talented and successful and, most importantly, good.

'we should meet her, then,' you decide.

//

caitlyn was in her first year of college the first time she brought home a girlfriend. you're sure she'd had girlfriends over before, a few of her friends throughout the years of secondary school giggling too much to just be interested in hanging out, as they say, but you hadn't prodded and she hadn't said. you'd always left that up to tobias, who still called her sprout and spent afternoons on long walks with her and the dogs, a daughter somehow easier to handle for him.

during winter holiday, even though university is just an hour away from your home, she brought home a girlfriend for winter holiday. this girl's family lived far away, and, for most, it's expensive to travel that distance, and so, ever generous, caitlyn invited her. you had agreed, if only because it was proper and you didn't want a fight before she even arrived.

the girl, for the most part, was uninteresting, if polite. caitlyn was enamored, but you trusted it would fade. she had been distinctly sad when she arrived home for summer break, informing you — tobias already knew, although he didn't have much of a clue about caitlyn's grades or extracurricular involvement — one day hunting that she and this girlfriend had broken things off. she'd not given you any real reason, just that it didn't work out, but you'd seen her frowning at the kiramman coat of arms engraved into a bullet. she'd loaded her gun, though, her favorite hunting rifle, when she spotted a hare, and shot perfectly without pause.

//

'and what is vi short for?' you ask, doing your best to not stare at the face tattoo caitlyn's very serious girlfriend has of her own nickname.

'oh, uh,' she responds, looks at cait and then rubs the back of her neck.

her hair is messy and asymmetrical, and the t-shirt she's wearing is quite nice, tucked into similarly nice slacks, and her belt matches the loafers you're absolutely sure are caitlyn's because you yourself had bought them for her for her last birthday — but there are more tattoos over the backs of her arms, disappearing under her shirt and emerging again on her neck. you do your best not to judge — and you don't judge people, especially your constituents — but vi is not just a person in your life. caitlyn, allegedly according to tobias, is in love with her, only a few months in.

'violet,' caitlyn says, squeezing her hand not-very-discreetly under the table, a degree of reverence in her voice that has tobias looking your way with his brows raised. 'but she prefers vi.'

you might think that vi is certainly not good enough in any way for your daughter, but you also won't force a name down someone's throat: you didn't do it with your own child, and you would never do it now. 'vi, then.'

she nods, thankful, and looks to caitlyn's hands to figure out which fork to use when your salads are delivered. unfortunately, for just a moment, it's endearing, and when caitlyn smiles, proudly, later on while vi talks about her work as a firefighter, detailing one of her latest calls where she was able to carry two children out of a burning apartment as it collapsed, nonchalant and humble about the whole thing, you see a sliver of what caitlyn does: someone brave, heroic, steadfast in her selflessness — a partner. vi eats four of the small desserts when they get placed on an elegant tray in the middle of the table; caitlyn just laughs.

//

when caitlyn turned twelve, she tried to run away. tobias, as you both frantically looked for her, hours before her party, had insisted it wasn't about her everyday life: her peers at school had been accepting and kind this year, even if she wasn't always good at making friends, and her teachers spoke highly of her performance and participation in classes; her puberty blockers had, so far, worked wonderfully, without any averse side effects.

it wasn't hard to find her, mostly because there are few places caitlyn loved more than the stables on your property; she was less interested in the horses than she was spending time with your hunting dogs. they had loved her for years, because she was always sneaking them bits of chicken from the kitchens, and also because she loved them: dogs can tell those sorts of things, you're sure.

you had found her, curled up in the hay loft, her eyes red rimmed from crying, snuggled up between the dogs, sniffling a little in her sleep. her party, an annual affair, was slated to begin in a few hours. but still, tobias had turned to you and led you out of the stables by the hand. caitlyn's presents, all kinds of gadgets she'd been interested in, and new books and toys, as well as a beautiful gown for the event, were abandoned in her room. 'just let her have a few more minutes,' he'd said, glancing back at her. you are in charge of so much, responsible for so many: caitlyn's childhood, while full of the pressures of her name and status, has been, in all the ways you deem most important, full — there are those who, certainly, have it much worse.

but still, you'd agreed, if only because she'd cried herself asleep.

//

vi is, among other things, a gifted rock climber and boxer, a very devoted older sister, a terrible shot — when caitlyn tries to teach her skeet, they end up laughing more than hitting any targets, which no amount of eye rolling on your part seems to dampen — and, you will admit, a loving girlfriend who seems, genuinely, to understand some part of your daughter that you never quite have.

it's caitlyn's birthday, and she will always have your last name, which means there is a party, all chandeliers and champagne, every year in the great room at your home in celebration of her birth. vi shows up on time, with jayce and viktor and mel, looking almost comfortable in a space like this, laughing at a joke mel says and elbowing jayce in the arm, holding viktor's drink while he situates his cane. she's handsome, in a suit you're sure caitlyn had helped her pick and get tailored: her broad shoulders fill out the jacket and her shirt underneath is unbuttoned just enough to look fashionable and not sloppy.

caitlyn is, every year, beautiful, and competent, and kisses vi quickly — still soft, still heavy with promises — before she says hello to her friends and then greets you and tobias with kisses to the cheek and then, less formally, hugs. the gown she wears this year is the same dark as her hair, hugs her hips, and is just on this side of elegant, and you know she'd worn it for one person, and one person only: vi's eyes never seem, truly, to stray from her, no matter how many rounds of boring conversation caitlyn has to wade through.

eventually, when the party is in full swing, you head back to the kitchens to check on the dessert course. you turn the corner and see caitlyn and vi sitting on the counter, in the corner of the kitchen, your head chef ignoring them fully other than a small smile directed in caitlyn's direction when she moans around a bite of grilled cheese, her favorite since she was small. vi takes a bite of her own sandwich, and then says, 'holy shit, cait, you weren't lying,' and caitlyn laughs, relaxed from the champagne she's had, sure, but also different from every other year you've celebrated her coming into the world.

caitlyn ducks her head when vi moves closer, so they're touching all along one side, hip to hip and shoulder to shoulder. the chef delivers a cupcake with a smile, one single candle in it, and then winks.

'happy birthday, baby,' vi says, takes out a lighter from her suit jacket, and lights the candle. caitlyn blows it out, looking younger than you remember in a long time.

//

vi's father immediately reminds you of her: his muscles fill out his dress shirt, and he's brash, laughing heartily with tobias, but a little shy at the same time, when he doesn't know whether or not it's appropriate to eat with his hands.

'it's a burger and fries,' vi's little sister says, rolling her eyes and digging into her own lunch — at a normal cafe near the water and their climbing gym, which caitlyn had insisted upon for this meeting — with no hesitation. she's... interesting, with a messy blue buzzcut and a denim jacket with neon spray paint all over it, shaky hands and big, bright eyes — she looks like vi but younger, softer, a different kind of weary: her own entity entirely. you've heard of her from caitlyn, sure, how she's fun and funny and requires a level of care that vi will always hold sacred, and also from jayce, from has spoken so highly of her studies, how creative and smart she is, how she has, in his words, the genuine potential to change the world. tobias asks after her arm; a few weeks ago she had needed some stitches, and she proudly pulls back the cuff of her jacket and shows him the neat scar. 'excellent work, dr. kiramman the original.'

it gets a laugh out of you, which both caitlyn and vi look a little surprised by, but jinx only grins.

'wanna hear about the time vi was trying to do a flip and her sweatpants ripped right off? she was ten.'

vi groans while vander lets out a hearty chuckle. 'do tell,' you encourage.

it's, perhaps, one of the easiest meals you've shared with caitlyn and vi, if only because they're so mutually mortified at the trading of embarrassing childhood stories between their families like the most precious currency.

'i have to say,' you decide as you're picking up the bill, and then point your last fry at jinx, 'i like her.'

she gives a triumphant ha! to both caitlyn and vi, and then shoots a finger gun in your direction, grinning.

//

caitlyn calls tobias, crying, in the middle of the night. he puts the phone on speaker, because you'd woken too, and because your heart had skipped a beat the moment he answered and you heard caitlyn's sniffle. she tells you that vi was in a building when it collapsed, that they were able to get her out but it took too long, and she's hurt, and unconscious, and just getting to the ER now. she tells you that she's picking up vi's younger sister on her way there, and she asks tobias to come in and she asks you to bring clothes and food tomorrow morning, once they know more of what's happening and how vi is doing.

you don't go back to sleep that night; you wait for any updates from tobias and schedule send emails for the morning, just to have something to do. vi might not be your favorite pick for your daughter, but she's been wholly devoted to caitlyn for two years now, and you know they're planning to put an offer in on a house soon — not subtle in her commitment, despite her best efforts.

eventually, tobias calls to tell you that vi has made it through surgery and, although they'd had to remove her spleen and stop some difficult bleeding in her liver, and despite some broken ribs and a sprained shoulder, she should be just fine. you won't admit it to anyone, but you cry a few tears of relief when you hang up; more than anything, vi makes caitlyn safe and happy, and caitlyn takes great joy in being able to offer the same in return, and you would never want that to be taken from either of them.

//

they have a fight, not soon after, only about a month. caitlyn calls you, furious, even though you're in the middle of preparing one of the most important referendums of the year; she's your daughter, so you answer.

'she's being ridiculous,' she grits into the phone. you give her a moment to gather herself, and then she continues, less aggravated, 'i know it's because she isn't good at letting people help her, and she's worked on it in therapy, i know because we've gone together too.'

you hum gently.

'she's still hurt; her ribs haven't fully healed and she just got her stitches out two weeks ago, and she still gets headaches all the time, and yet today i got home to her building shelves. with a drill and everything! and normally, like, that would be hot —' caitlyn pauses, seemingly carried away for a moment; you don't laugh, just to spare her, but you have to fight it. 'we don't need more shelves right now. i just need her to...'

when she doesn't say anything, seemingly stuck, you suggest, 'let you take care of her?'

she sighs, on the verge of tears. 'then we had an argument. but, yes, all i want to do is take care of her. she had — she had so many unkind, awful things done to her; i saw her films and scans, and — mom.'

'oh, sweetheart,' you say, accepting, understanding, for the first time, the depth of their love: the grief, the pain, the boredom and difficulty and miracle of it all. 'she's stubborn only because it can be scary, to let someone love you so completely. i know how it feels, with your father.'

she sniffles. 'i do, love her like that.'

'you'll show her. she'll let you. just talk to her.'

'do you promise?'

she sounds so young, so small; you've wrapped her up in your arms and promised things much more difficult than reconciliation between the two of them. 'yes, my dear. i promise.'

//

time moves: they have a housewarming and, although you think their brownstone is smaller than necessary, it is beautiful. jinx shows you her basement proudly, and introduces you to her boyfriend? best friend? partner? — you're not quite sure, and her rambling and his adoring laughter at it, hadn't provided any real clarification. you help set out the small finger foods they'd ordered from their favorite lebanese restaurant, and you meet so many of their collective friends. it's a happy day, with a lot of wine, and everyone is in socked feet, and caitlyn wraps her arm around vi's waist and kisses the side of her head during a quiet moment in the hall, just the two of them in their home.

they adopt a dog, a big black and white boy who they're both immediately in love with and who falls asleep with his blocky, soft head on your lap when you sit down one evening with them over the holidays to watch a movie. caitlyn adores him, sends you and tobias pictures of him on their trail runs often; they take him on climbing trips and he enjoys sleeping in the sun.

//

when caitlyn is fourteen, you sat down with her and pressed your grandfather's wedding band into her palm. 'this was, when you were small, supposed to be yours, one day.' it was thick and gold and decidedly more masculine than she'd ever want, but it was gorgeous all the same, with your family's coat of arms inscribed on the inside.

she looked a little troubled by it, sorting out her feelings: what things belong, and what things are just off. you and tobias had never asked for her to explain, only if she wanted to; she told you, years ago, who she was, and you had always believed her.

'i can hold onto it for you,' you told her, 'just in case there's ever anything you end up wanting to do with it. there's no pressure, sweetheart. just know that it's yours.'

she had let out a big breath, relaxed her shoulders from her ears. 'okay,' she told you. 'thanks, mom.'

//

vi and jinx are out of town, on some kind of trip with jinx's partner, and caitlyn hadn't been able to take enough time off of work to go with them. she's over at the house now, moping about, clearly missing the people who have now become her family too, but it's dramatic enough that it's funny.

you're not sure, it's a gamble, but you call her up to your closet. she slumps down on the bench, in running shorts and one of vi's fire department captain — a recent promotion that you think caitlyn had been more excited about than vi herself — sweatshirts; she props one knee up and rests her chin on it, then looks at you expectantly, confused but interested.

'i'm not sure if you remember,' you say, and find it easily in the back of one of your jewelry cases, 'but i thought now might be a good time to give this to you.'

her eyes get big, the same blue as yours, when you put the ring in her hand. you're certain they've both been thinking of it: marriage, everything at the heart of such a union. their love, certainly, is big enough.

'i'm not sure what size violet's ring finger is, but it should be easy to resize, if we need.'

'oh.'

'but —' you rush to say — 'if you had a ring already picked out for her, one she might like better, we can just put this away again.'

she looks away from the ring and up at you, and then she's standing, years of grace and strength, the surest, best shot you know, and hugging you. she's taller, and the crook of her sweatshirt smells very distinctly like vi's cologne and caitlyn's perfume, all at once. 'thank you,' she whispers, teary.

you have so much you could say to deflect, about the horrors of wedding planning or whether or not vi is going to take the kiramman name, but caitlyn is your daughter, and you hold her to you like she's still small, still yours.

//

you straightened the straps of the dress caitlyn had picked out, the first she's ever tried on. she took a deep breath and then raised her eyes to look in the mirror. her hair was still short, although it was growing fast, much to her relief, and her features were delicate already on their own.

caitlyn turned to hug you tight around your waist, bursting into tears. you fought them yourself, instead rubbing gentle circles along her back while she got it all out. eventually, you dried her tears and turned her around to look in the mirror again. 'you are so beautiful, my girl,' you told her, and shushed when she started crying again. 'stand with your back straight,' you instructed, 'and your chest proud. the kiramman women have always been a force, and you will be too.'

she nodded, seriously, and straightened her thin shoulders. even though her lip trembled, a smile made its way through.

//

it's an ordinary day, another lunch, sunny and bright, when they tell you.

'a girl?' you ask, just to make sure you've heard them correctly.

'well, for now, at least,' vi says, sending a wink caitlyn's way, who rolls her eyes and then laughs.

they tell you more details of the adoption that's happening sooner than you can fully wrap your head around; you and tobias the second in the family to know, just after jinx, who had only found out this morning. she was, apparently, immediately thrilled, and tobias echoes the sentiment.

'to the kiramman women who have come before,' you say, after you've hugged both of them tight and ordered a bottle of champagne, 'and to those who will lead us forward, even further.'

caitlyn rolls her eyes and the seriousness, but they're suspiciously wet, and vi wholeheartedly clinks her glass with yours.

later, vi goes to get the car and tobias is settling the bill while you and caitlyn wait outside in the sun. 'prepare for her to be your undoing,' you tell her, serious but with a mirth you can't contain.

caitlyn raises a brow. 'i haven't been that bad.'

you shrug.

'mom.'

you laugh, pat her cheek.

she smiles, so bright. you weren't sure, when she was young, if this would ever be in the cards for her, but her life is beautiful and big, a world any child would be lucky to be loved in.

you hug her again, because you can. 'you are going to be a wonderful mother.'

she's taller than you, much stronger, but she'll always be small; you hold her still. she'll always be yours.

[kezdispenser]

Breaking Character pt11/?

Summary: You are the new cast member of 'The Boys' and you play Butcher's cousin and Soldier Boy's new love interest 'Solene'. You're introduced to the cast by the director at a dinner and you're seated next to Karl and Jensen to "bond".

Pairing: Jensen x reader

Warnings: SMUT, language, fluff, 18+, KINKS

The living room was alive with laughter as the cast huddled around the coffee table, snacks strewn everywhere, and a heated game of Pictionary underway. Jack was furiously scribbling on the notepad, his tongue sticking out in concentration, while Erin and Antony shouted wildly incorrect guesses.

“Is it...a car?” Erin yelled.

Jack groaned. “Does this look like a car?!”

“Maybe a horse?” Antony guessed, squinting at the mess of lines on the paper.

“It’s obviously a toaster,” Karl said with a straight face, making the rest of us dissolve into giggles.

Jensen sat beside me on the couch, his arm slung comfortably around my shoulders. He was terrible at hiding his amusement, his chest rumbling with soft laughter. I leaned into him, feeling that warm, easy comfort that only he could provide.

“You’re not even trying to help,” he teased, nudging me gently.

“Because this is too much fun to watch,” I replied, grinning up at him.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he muttered with a smirk, pressing a kiss to my temple.

The moment felt perfect. The room was filled with the kind of joy that made everything else fade away—the drama, the stress, all of it.

But then my mind wandered, unbidden, to a conversation Jensen and I had just days ago.

-

“I’m done, Jensen,” I had said, pacing the length of our hotel room.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching me with a calm that only made my frustration grow. “Done with what?”

“My manager,” I snapped, spinning to face him. “I’m done with the constant criticism, the pressure, the...the bullshit.”

He stood and walked over to me, his hands resting gently on my shoulders. “You don’t have to put up with that, Y/N.”

“I know,” I said, my voice softening. “That’s why I’m firing him.”

Jensen’s lips quirked into a small, proud smile. “About damn time.”

“I just...” I hesitated, glancing down. “What if it backfires? What if—”

“No.” His voice was firm, cutting through my doubts. “You’re not doing anything wrong. If someone in your corner isn’t supporting you, they don’t deserve to be there. Period.”

I exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of his words settle over me. “You make it sound so simple.”

“Because it is,” he said, cupping my face in his hands. “You deserve better, and if firing that asshole is what it takes, then do it. I’ll be here no matter what.”

-

“Earth to Y/N!” Erin’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

“Huh?” I blinked, realizing everyone was staring at me.

“It’s your turn!” she said, holding out the notepad and pen.

Jensen chuckled, giving my shoulder a squeeze. “Good luck, sweetheart.”

I groaned but took the pen, determined to draw something only slightly better than Jack’s unrecognizable toaster—or horse, or whatever it was.

The night carried on in the same playful, lighthearted spirit, the memory of my decision to fire my manager leaving me with a quiet sense of empowerment. For the first time in a long time, I felt free.

The house was still and quiet as we stepped inside, the only sound the faint click of the door locking behind us. Jensen turned to look at me, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He tossed his keys onto the counter, his movements unhurried but deliberate.

“Feels weird without the kids here, huh?” I said, kicking off my shoes and letting out a long sigh as I sank onto the couch.

“A little,” he admitted, his voice low and easy, “but I’m not complaining.”

He crossed the room toward me, his strides purposeful. His eyes had that familiar gleam, the one that always made my heart race. When he reached me, he crouched in front of the couch, his hands resting on my knees.

“You’re too far away,” he murmured, his voice tinged with mischief.

“I’m right here,” I replied, trying to keep my tone steady, but his touch had me unraveling already.

“Not close enough,” he countered, slipping his hands under mine and tugging me gently forward until I was perched on the edge of the couch, our faces just inches apart.

He kissed me then, slow and deep, one hand sliding to the back of my neck while the other rested on my thigh. There was nothing hurried about it—just the deliberate, intoxicating way he always made me feel like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine, his breath warm against my skin. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

I laughed softly, my hands curling into the front of his shirt. “You’ve mentioned it a few times.”

“I don’t say it enough,” he said, his tone turning serious as his fingers traced idle patterns on my leg. “You’re everything to me.”

The intensity in his words had my chest tightening, my throat threatening to close up with the weight of emotion.

“Jensen…” I started, but his name barely made it past my lips before his hands began to wander.

Jensen leaned back, his arm draped casually over the back of the couch, but his eyes were anything but casual. They were filled with a mix of desire and mischief as he watched you, his gaze lingering on your chest.

“You know,” he said, a playful smirk tugging at his lips, “I’ve always had a thing for… well, let’s just say I appreciate a good pair.”

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile forming on your lips. “Is that so? What do you appreciate about them?”

He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low, sultry tone. “Everything. The way they look, the way they feel… and the way they drive me absolutely wild.”

You felt a rush of heat at his words, your heart racing. “Maybe I should give you a better view then,” you suggested, your voice playful yet inviting.

Jensen’s eyes darkened with desire as you slowly lifted your shirt, revealing your bare skin. His breath hitched, and you could see the hunger in his gaze as he took in the sight of you.

“Damn,” he breathed, his voice thick with lust. “You’re stunning.”

He shifted closer, his hands finding your waist, fingers brushing against your skin as he pulled you toward him. You could feel the warmth radiating from his body, and it sent shivers down your spine.

“Can I?” he asked, his eyes flicking to your chest, a mix of eagerness and respect in his gaze.

“Please,” you whispered, your heart racing with anticipation.

With a swift motion, he leaned down, his mouth capturing one of your breasts. His tongue swirled around your nipple, and a moan escaped your lips as pleasure coursed through you. Jensen’s hands roamed, squeezing and kneading your other breast, his touch firm yet gentle.

“God, you’re perfect,” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and tantalizing.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as he lavished attention on you. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you in this moment of pure bliss.

“Jensen,” you gasped, the sensation overwhelming. “I need more.”

He looked up at you, his eyes dark with lust. “You got it, babe.”

With that, he shifted, positioning you so that you were lying back against the couch, your body arching toward him. He took a moment to admire you, his gaze filled with hunger. Then, he leaned down, his mouth finding yours in a passionate kiss, igniting a fire within you that you never wanted to extinguish.

As he kissed you, his hands continued to explore, tracing the curves of your body, his fingers brushing against your breasts, teasing and tantalizing. You could feel the heat pooling in your core, and you wanted nothing more than to feel him closer.

“Jensen,” you breathed, your voice a mix of urgency and desire. “I want you.”

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, your heart racing. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

With a wicked grin, he leaned back down, his mouth capturing your breast once more, his tongue flicking and teasing as he lost himself in the moment. You could feel the heat building between you, the world outside forgotten as you surrendered to the pleasure he was giving you.

Jensen’s mouth moved with a fervor that sent waves of pleasure coursing through you. He lavished attention on your breasts, his tongue swirling and teasing, while his hands explored the curves of your body. You could feel the heat pooling in your core, a desperate need building within you.

“Jensen,” you gasped, arching your back as he took your nipple into his mouth, sucking gently. “I need you… please.”

He pulled back, his eyes dark with desire, a smirk playing on his lips. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “You’re driving me insane.”

With that, he shifted his position, kneeling on the couch beside you. He took a moment to admire you, his gaze roaming over your body, drinking in every curve. You felt exposed yet empowered under his scrutiny, the heat of his gaze igniting a fire within you.

“Let me show you just how much I appreciate you,” he said, his voice thick with lust.

He leaned down, his mouth trailing kisses down your stomach, his hands gripping your thighs as he pushed them apart. You gasped, your breath hitching in your throat as he settled between your legs, his eyes locking onto yours.

“Jensen,” you breathed, your heart racing with anticipation.

He didn’t respond with words; instead, he leaned in, his mouth finding the sensitive skin between your thighs. A moan escaped your lips as his tongue flicked against you, teasing and exploring. The sensation was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

“God, you taste amazing,” he murmured against you, his breath hot against your skin.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, urging him closer as he continued to work his magic. He was relentless, his tongue swirling and teasing, driving you closer to the edge. You could feel the heat building, the pressure mounting as he expertly brought you closer and closer to the brink.

“Jensen, I’m so close,” you gasped, your body trembling with need.

He looked up at you, his eyes dark and filled with desire. “I want to feel you come for me,” he said, his voice low and sultry.

With renewed vigor, he focused on your clit, his tongue flicking and teasing in a way that sent you spiraling over the edge. You cried out, your body arching as waves of pleasure washed over you, leaving you breathless and trembling.

As you came down from your high, Jensen crawled back up your body, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss. You could taste yourself on his lips, and it only fueled the fire within you.

“Now, it’s my turn,” he said, his voice thick with desire as he reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head to reveal his chiseled chest. You couldn’t help but admire him, your hands roaming over his body, feeling the hard muscles beneath your fingertips.

He leaned down, capturing your lips once more, his hands gripping your waist as he positioned himself between your legs. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the tension building as he pressed against you.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice low and filled with need.

You nodded, your heart racing with anticipation. “Yes, Jensen. I want you.”

With a primal growl, he pushed inside you, filling you completely. A moan escaped your lips as you felt him stretch you, the sensation overwhelming. He paused for a moment, letting you adjust to his size, his eyes locked onto yours.

“God, you feel incredible,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

He began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, but the urgency quickly built as he lost himself in the moment. You could feel every inch of him, the heat and intensity building with each thrust.

“Jensen,” you gasped, your nails digging into his back as he picked up the pace. “Harder… please.”

He obliged, his thrusts becoming more frantic, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. You could feel the heat pooling in your core once more, the pressure building as he drove you closer to the edge.

“Let go for me,” he urged, his breath hot against your ear. “I want to feel you come around me.”

With a final thrust, you felt the wave of pleasure crash over you, your body trembling as you cried out his name. Jensen followed closely behind, his thrusts becoming erratic as he found his release, filling you completely.

As you both came down from your highs, he collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms. You could feel the warmth radiating from him, the afterglow wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.

“Damn,” he said, satisfied.

---------------------------------

A/N: Hey you guys, I'm back, I hope you guys had fun during the holidays, idk if I'm back to posting regularly but I can try.

@justwhisperingfantasies @impala67rollingthroughtown @deansimpalababy @jackles010378 @winchester @barnes70stark @nancymcl @oceean @spnaquakindgdom @ladysparkles78 @sexyvixen7 @spxideyver @stoneyggirl2 @star-yawnznn @quietgirll75 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing

[russellsppttemplates]

Hiiii I hope your situation gets better soon, sending you positive energy 💗. I was wondering if you could write something about it being one of the kids birthday and there younger sibling has a tantrum because they wanted to blow out the candles. Thank youuuuuuu

Note: thank you 🤍

The sun shone through the windows of the Leclerc home, casting a warm glow over the colourful decorations that adorned the living room. Today was a special day - Amélie’s birthday. She had just turned six, and you and Charles had worked hard to create a magical celebration filled with all of her favorite things - balloons, cake, and all her friends from school, along with your families and friends too.

Charles couldn't help but smile as he watched your little girl bounce around the room, her excitement infectious as everyone gathered to celebrate.

Charles was in the kitchen, setting up the cake while you prepared the snacks for the party, wanting everything to be plated up and ready to refill the table.

"Amélie, amour, are you ready to blow out the candles?” he called, his heart swelling with pride as he carried the cake.

“Almost, papa! I want everyone to sing happy birthday to me first!”, she shouted back, her pigtails swaying with every bounce.

Just then, the quiet corner of the room erupted with an unexpected shriek. Thomas, your youngest, who was just a few months from turning three, had been eyeing the cake with a fierce determination. His big green eyes widened as Amélie’s friends gathered around, and a storm started brewing.

“I want to blow out the candles!” Thomas cried, his small fists clenched in frustration as he looked at the people around the table. The moment he spoke the words, all eyes turned to him, amusement turning to concern.

“Buddy", Charles knelt down to Thomas’s level, trying to soothe him, “It’s Amélie’s special day. She gets to blow out the candles from her cake", he explained.

But Thomas wasn't having it and was in full tantrum mode now, his face scrunching up as he flailed his arms like a tiny tornado, “Nooooo! I want to! I want to!”, he screamed.

Charles exchanged a glance with you, not sure what you should do with the situation.

You managed to stifle a chuckle at Thomas’s dramatic display, shaking your head and approaching them.

"Hey, buddy", you said, voice gentle but firm, “I know you’re excited. How about you help me hold the candles, and then you can blow them out after Amélie?".

Your youngest son paused, considering the offer, "but I want to do it now!”.

Amélie, stepped forwards, "Thomas, you can help me! We can blow them out together after I make a wish,” she said, her little face lighting up with kindness.

For a moment, Thomas seemed to calm down, tilting his head as he contemplated her words, "together?” he asked, his fierce expression softening.

“Yeah! You can be my special helper", Amélie encouraged beaming at her younger brother.

It was almost like everyone held their breath, you and Charles exchanging a look of "if this doesn't cut it, I'm not sure what will".

Finally understanding that he wouldn’t be brushed aside on this special day, Thomas nodded, relief washing over you and Charles as you watched the gears turning in your son's young mind, the excitement bubbling back up.

“Okay!”, Thomas said, his tiny voice filled with renewed joy, “let’s do it!”.

As the candles were placed on the beautifully decorated cake, Amélie held the match while Charles lit each one. The room filled with the sounds of cheerful singing, and both Amélie and Thomas stood in front of the cake, grinning from ear to ear.

“On three!”, Charles prompted, smiling proudly at the two youngest kids, "one… two… three!”.

Amélie and Thomas both blew out the candles together, the flames flickering before fading into smoke as cheers erupted from the gathering of friends as they clapped and celebrated the moment, and both children laughed, the small incident quickly forgotten in the joy of the day.

As Amélie cut into the cake, her eyes sparkling with happiness, Thomas bounced around, happily announcing that he had helped blow out the candles as Hervé managed to get him to sit down so he could then have the slice.

Charles looked on, heart full, knowing that this was a birthday you would all remember, "I wonder where he got all of that determination", he heard.

You had a playful smile on your lips as you started plating up the slices, thanking Pascale and your mother for their help as they made sure everyone got a slice, "that is all you, but Amélie’s kindness? That's from her mama!", you smirked.

"Wouldn't dream of denying something like that", Charles half joked as you hit his chest, "what?! Happy wife, happy life, amour!".

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

[hmshermitcraft]

(just pretend him not flying makes sense) Avians tend to fly more than they walk. Grian however, doesn't fly at all.

The other hermits have learned that why is something you just... don't ask. Xisuma tried. He was met with words he didn't even know Grian was able to say. They don't even know if Gem and Pearl (his sisters) know, but after what happened to X, they're not asking.

Until one night, Scar noticed him jumping off a small ledge, trying to fly and falling, climbing back up and doing it again.

He wouldn't have thought anything of it, but then again, Grian doesn't do things like that without some kind of purpose, and the look on his face was one Scar was very familiar with himself, the look of someone who is desperately trying to do something, but they just... can't. No matter how hard they try.

So Scar approached him, to ask if he was alright. Grian, not having an excuse, told him.

His wings are just a little bit too small to support his weight, making him, by avian standards, severely disabled, and practically human. (besides the other bird-like traits, but flight is the main one so basically human) He doesn't like to tell people, because he's terrified they'll see him of less of an avian if they know he can't fly. (Scar knows they won't, but he also understands Grian not wanting to risk it, so keeps quiet)

Scar set out to do whatever he could to help him, seeing flecks of himself in Grian. He spent many, many months figuring out how to make him discreet supports, that work, but aren't very visible, unless you're looking for them.

Eventually, he got it, and Grian was ecstatic. The only people outside of his family he told just bullied him, and he's slowly but surely figuring out the absolute joy of flight.

Maybe one day he'll be good enough to carry Scar with him.

In exchange, Scar has learnt a lot about avian culture. Enough that if Grian ever expresses doubt about being 'avian enough' he can squash it immediately. Scar does not regularly listen to hours long info dumps for Grian to say he's any less than any other avian! And he'll pull the 'would you say that about me' card if he has to. He'll do it!

Grian appreciates Scar. So much. He has no idea how he'll make all this up to him.

(Scar says it's pretty simple: just don't drop him when they finally go flying together.)

[redvexillum]

Fifth Kiss: Endearing

A/N: Bro. I can't write RadioApple. I'm sorry. I suck at writing this ship //don't perceive me!

SUMMARY: A drunken showdown between Lucifer and Alastor spirals into something messy and impulsive—one filled with tension, stubborn pride, and lingering questions neither is ready to answer.

The hotel gleamed with festivity, gold and black streamers curled from the ceiling like gilded tendrils, shimmering in the soft glow of twinkling lights. Balloons bobbed gently in the air, brushing against a bold, loopy-lettered banner that proclaimed “Happy New Year!” with a cheerfulness Lucifer found difficult to match. 

Charlie’s voice floated through the lobby—a sweet, hopeful tune carrying the innocence of someone untouched by the weight of eons. She twirled through the crowd of sinners, bright-eyed and beaming, her very presence a beacon of joy. 

Lucifer stood apart, forcing a smile to curve his lips, though it felt unnatural. His posture was regal, his tailored suit immaculate, but his fingers curled into tight fists, betraying the serenity he was trying to portray. He took a steadying breath, letting the bubbling laughter of the crowd wash over him, though it did little to ease the tightening in his chest. 

It had been centuries since he allowed himself to be surrounded by this many souls—this many sinners. He had grown used to the isolation of his estate, cocooned in the quiet gloom of his own thoughts. 

But here… Here he stood, watching them laugh, mingle, and toast to a future that none of them deserved. 

Charlie’s smile caught his eye again, radiant and carefree. Her happiness was genuine, untainted by the darkness surrounding her. It made his heart ache with a feeling he couldn’t name. 

Conflict. 

For all her joy, for all her kindness, Charlie’s dream clashed with the immutable truth etched into Lucifer’s very being. These sinners—these wretched souls—had squandered his gift of freedom, twisting it into unspeakable acts of cruelty, selfishness, and destruction. 

And yet… 

His gaze swept across the room, catching fleeting moments of tenderness and camaraderie. Sinners offering each other drinks. Laughing. Dancing. Holding hands. 

The longer he stood in the Hazbin Hotel—the hotel his daughter had built, with a certain insufferable demon at her side—the more his certainty began to erode. That bedrock of disdain he had clung to for millennia softened, crumbling into something far more dangerous. 

Warmth. 

And fear. 

For even now, deep within him, that small flicker of reverence for the Lord’s judgment remained. And if the Lord had deemed these souls unworthy—if they were cast into Hell for their sins—then who was Lucifer to question that divine decree? 

“Hahahaha! Oh, Charlie!” 

The voice rang out, sharp and lilting, slicing through the festive air like a knife. 

Lucifer’s jaw clenched. 

Alastor. 

His eyes flicked to the source of the sound, his expression cooling into a mask of indifference, though every fibre of his being bristled at the sight of the Radio Demon. 

Alastor stood by Charlie’s side, grinning with that perpetual, unnerving smile that Lucifer despised. He hated the way the demon’s presence filled the room, commanding attention without even trying. He hated the way Alastor’s voice carried—warm and charming, yet laced with a subtle undercurrent of menace. 

Most of all, he hated the way Charlie looked at him. 

Her arms were wrapped around Alastor’s middle in a warm hug, her face alight with gratitude as she thanked him for helping with the decorations. And for a brief, fleeting moment, Lucifer caught a shift in Alastor’s expression—a softening of his crimson eyes, a gentleness that didn’t belong in someone so steeped in human greed and depravity. 

That was the problem. 

The thorn buried deep in Lucifer’s mind. 

Charlie adored him. She trusted him. And try as he might, Lucifer could not understand why. 

He had spent countless hours pondering it, obsessing over the enigma that was Alastor. He observed him from afar, dissecting his every action, every word, searching for the sinister ulterior motive that surely lurked beneath the surface. 

But the more he watched, the more that motive eluded him. 

It was maddening. 

“Want a drink?” 

A gravelly voice pulled him from his thoughts. 

Lucifer turned, his gaze landing on a feline demon with dark fur and bright, mischievous eyes. The sinner—was his name Dusk? Musk?—tilted his head, offering a glass of something dark and potent. 

Lucifer blinked, momentarily thrown off balance by the unexpected offer. 

He glanced around the room, taking in the lively scene once more. The sinners danced and drank, sharing laughter and joy with one another.

For all his power, Lucifer suddenly felt like an outsider—a relic of an ancient past that no longer fit in this strange new world his daughter was trying to create. 

With a soft sigh, he accepted the drink. 

Perhaps… blending in wouldn’t hurt. 

“Y-Yeah…” Lucifer’s voice cracked, rasping out with a dryness that betrayed his discomfort. His shoulders twitched upward, hitching in embarrassment as he coughed to clear his throat. Straightening his posture, he tried again, forcing his lips into a wide grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“I mean… Yeah! Hit on me, bad boy!” he added, waggling his eyebrows in an exaggerated manner, hoping the humour would ease the awkward tension creeping up his spine. 

The response was less than enthusiastic. 

Husk, perched behind the bar with his perpetual deadpan expression, barely blinked. With a sigh that carried the weight of someone who had long since stopped caring about life’s absurdities, the cat demon grabbed a bottle from the shelf. Without a word, he poured a generous amount of amber liquid into a glass and slid it toward Lucifer. 

The glass made a soft clink as it hit the bar, and Lucifer stared at it for a long moment. He took a breath—deep, steadying—before lowering himself onto the barstool with an air of forced nonchalance. His movements were slow, deliberate, as though he could trick himself into believing he belonged here. That he was part of the scene. 

He tried to look comfortable, but the stiff set of his shoulders and the restless tapping of his fingers against the bar betrayed him. 

Lifting the glass, he swirled the liquid inside before bringing it to his lips. But before he could take that first sip, a familiar and grating sound sliced through the air. 

Static. 

That telltale crackle of a radio tuning in, followed by a voice as smooth as honey and twice as poisonous. 

“My, my, my…” 

Lucifer didn’t need to look up to know who it was. He’d recognize that voice anywhere. 

Alastor appeared beside him, his ever-present grin stretched wide across his face. Those crimson eyes—bright and unrelenting—immediately flicked to the glass in Lucifer’s hand. 

The Radio Demon chuckled, a low, mocking sound that grated on Lucifer’s nerves. 

“Indulging in spirits alone? How very… tragic.” Alastor pressed a clawed hand to his chest, tilting his head as if he were genuinely saddened by the sight. But his eyes gleamed with amusement, the downturn of his brows exaggerated to the point of mockery. 

Lucifer clenched his jaw, forcing a tight laugh. He lifted the glass to his lips and took a loud, deliberate sip, letting the burn of the alcohol distract him from the irritation bubbling beneath his skin. 

Setting the glass down with a soft thunk, he smirked, gesturing toward Husk with a flourish of his hand. 

“I’m not alone,” Lucifer declared. “I’m drinking with my good friend, Dusk!” 

But as his gaze flicked toward Husk, his smirk faltered. 

The cat demon was gone. 

Lucifer’s eyes scanned the bar, spotting Husk on the other side of the room, deep in conversation with that obnoxious spider sinner. 

Damn it. 

“Ohhh, I see,” Alastor drawled, his tone dripping with faux understanding. His eyes sparkled with mischievous delight as he leaned in, his elbows resting on the bar. “Why, I must join you two! What a charming little gathering this will be!” 

With a snap of his fingers, Alastor conjured a glass of his own—dark, swirling liquid just two fingers width. He plucked the glass from the air, holding it delicately between his fingers as if it were the finest wine. 

Lucifer scoffed, rolling his eyes as he glanced back toward Husk, silently willing the cat to return. Husk didn’t even glance his way. 

Damn it all. 

“I’m good, thanks,” Lucifer muttered, pushing back from the bar. He stood, brushing imaginary dust from his suit as he straightened his bow tie. “Actually, I’m going to drink with Char-Char.” His voice took on a haughty tone as he lifted his chin. 

He turned on his heel, fully prepared to march across the room and join his daughter. 

But he only made it a few steps before Alastor’s voice stopped him in his tracks. 

“Oh, my dear king, of course! Charlie would absolutely love that.” 

Lucifer froze. 

There was something in Alastor’s tone—a sly, knowing edge that sent a prickle of unease down his spine. 

“Surely, she would want to drink with her dear old dad… in front of all her friends. You wouldn’t embarrass her at all, now, would you?” 

Lucifer turned slowly, his gaze locking with Alastor’s. The Radio Demon’s grin was insufferable, his legs pressed neatly together, his posture prim and poised. One hand rested lightly against his chest, claws tapping rhythmically as he batted his lashes in mock innocence. 

Lucifer’s lips pressed into a thin line. His fingers twitched at his sides, itching to wipe that smug expression off Alastor’s face. 

This was what the bastard was good at—digging under his skin, twisting the knife with precise, calculated jabs. 

Because that was the one thing Lucifer could never fully shake. 

That lingering doubt. 

His relationship with Charlie had been reforged, rebuilt from the ruins of past mistakes. But there was still a gap between them—a fragile, unspoken tension that neither of them could fully bridge. 

And Alastor knew it. 

He knew. 

Lucifer’s hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms as he forced a smile onto his face. 

“I’m sure Charlie wouldn’t mind,” he said, his voice steady but tight. 

Alastor’s grin widened, and his eyes glinted with triumph. 

“Of course not,” Alastor purred. “After all, she adores you… doesn’t she?” 

The words hung in the air like a challenge. 

Lucifer swallowed the retort burning on his tongue, his gaze narrowing. 

This was their dance—a delicate, dangerous game of push and pull. 

And tonight, Lucifer wasn’t sure who was winning. 

“I’m the King of Hell. If anything—” Lucifer slammed the empty glass down on the bar with a satisfying clink after draining the rest of his drink, his glare sharp despite the creeping warmth in his cheeks. “I’m a cool dad.” 

The bitter burn of the liquor scorched his throat on the way down, but he fought the wince threatening to crack his mask. 

Alastor’s brow arched in amusement. With a lazy snap of his fingers, the empty glass refilled itself, the liquid sloshing inside with a rich amber glow. He lifted his own glass to his lips, sipping delicately, crimson eyes watching Lucifer over the rim. 

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re a lightweight.” His voice was sweet poison, smooth and mocking. As he set his glass down, his lips curled into that insufferable grin. “I understand now. Well, hurry along then.” 

He turned his back, but Lucifer didn’t miss the subtle twitch of his ears—the faintest flicker of anticipation. 

Lucifer knew he was being baited. He knew. But something about Alastor’s smug confidence gnawed at him. The unspoken implication that Lucifer was weaker, lesser, somehow beneath him—it stung more than it should have. 

With a low growl, Lucifer plopped back onto the barstool, crossing his arms as he leaned forward. 

“Oh please,” he scoffed. “Look at you, Bambi. Probably can’t hold your own liquor. What’s the matter? Worried I’ll out drink you, and you’ll have to stumble your way back to your room?” He drained his second cup with a flourish, slamming it down dramatically. 

Alastor’s forced laugh echoed between them, his ears flicking downward for a moment before springing back up. 

“Fuck you,” he muttered, and with a smooth flick of his wrist, he drained his glass in one long gulp. He slammed it down next to Lucifer’s, the sound ringing out like a challenge. Without hesitation, he refilled both glasses. 

And so it began—a quiet war of stubborn pride. 

They drank. 

And drank. 

Somewhere along the way, their barbs blurred into slurred insults and lazy grins. At one point, Lucifer declared with a grand sweep of his arms that their drinks were child’s play and produced a bottle of Hell’s finest liquor—the kind that made even the most hardened demons wince. 

Alastor’s grin faltered for the briefest second. 

“Want to stick to your rye, or are you man enough for a real drink?” Lucifer taunted, his words slurring just slightly. 

Alastor’s eyes narrowed to slits. Without a word, he shoved his glass toward Lucifer, the demand clear. 

The first sip hit like fire, burning all the way down. Lucifer gritted his teeth, refusing to show weakness. 

Cup after cup, they kept going. 

Time slipped away, the world softening at the edges. Sounds blurred, the buzz of conversation fading into the rhythmic pulse of his heartbeat. Lights danced across Lucifer’s vision, bright and hazy. 

Somewhere in the haze, he heard the countdown begin. 

“Ten! Nine! Eight!” 

The crowd’s voices rose in unison, laughter and excitement filling the air. Lucifer blinked, his gaze drifting toward the centre of the room where Charlie stood, radiant as ever, her hands cupping Maggie’s face as they shared a tender kiss. Their joy was infectious, their love shining bright amidst the darkness of Hell. 

Around them, couples leaned into each other—smiles, laughter, kisses shared beneath the glittering fireworks bursting overhead. Even Dusk and Angel Dust were entwined in a shadowed corner, their silhouettes barely visible in the dim light. 

Lucifer glanced to his side. 

Alastor sat impassively, watching the scene unfold with a distant expression. His glass dangled from his fingers, untouched, his gaze flickering from couple to couple. 

For once, the smile on his face seemed… softer. 

Before Lucifer could think better of it, his hand shot out, grabbing Alastor by the lapels. 

“What are you—” 

Lucifer crushed their lips together. 

The kiss was sudden, clumsy, tasting of alcohol and bitterness. 

Alastor’s muscles tensed beneath Lucifer’s grip, his entire body going rigid. For a moment, he didn’t move—didn’t react. But then, slowly, his fingers curled around Lucifer’s wrist, holding him in place. 

And Alastor leaned in. 

There was a strange desperation to the way their lips pressed together—a messy, unspoken challenge. Lucifer felt the sharp scrape of teeth as Alastor nipped at his lower lip, drawing blood. 

He hissed, pulling back with a glare. 

“You’re a… you’re a…” Lucifer’s voice slurred, the words tumbling over each other as the room tilted around him. He hiccuped, his vision swimming. “God, you’re a shit kisser.” 

Alastor snorted, his grin twisting into something more genuine—more amused. 

Lucifer took one stumbling step backward, the world spinning beneath his feet. 

Then he crumpled. 

The floor was cold against his cheek, the distant sounds of laughter and celebration fading into a dull hum. His body felt heavy, warmth spreading through his veins as the alcohol took its toll. 

As his eyes fluttered shut, the edges of consciousness slipping away, he heard a voice—soft, almost gentle. 

“You’re a terrible kisser too.” 

Lucifer’s breath hitched. 

“But maybe…” 

Fingers brushed against his hair, light as a feather. 

“We could fix that.” 

Darkness pulled him under, but the faint echo of Alastor’s voice lingered in his mind, teasing and...

Endearing.  

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[fangirlstorycreator]

Alastor X Reader

Context: When you discover it's Alastor's birthday, you want to suprise him with a thoughtful gift. But would it be one he'd like? And how would he show his appreciation?

Part 2/2

You had to be very careful bringing Alastor's gift back home, especially considering you were planning on giving him a pet. Getting her home was easy, and thankfully, due to noone being in the hotel lobby, you were able to slip upstairs to your room without anyone noticing. The lady at the ranch had given you a whole box of things to look after her before she was gifted to Alastor, food, toys? A harness, all sorts of things, including a bed to sleep on inside her carrying case. Hiding her in your room, you made sure she was happy, watered and fed before you left the room, and luckily, she was fast asleep when you left her. This was the time you took to help Charlie with her planning and setting up. But, when you did spot Charlie running down the hall, she was actually more suprised to see you than you were her.

"Oh! Y/N! Perfect! I really need your help!"

"Ok, what can I do?"

"Alastor is still in the hotel, but I know he'll come in and see what we're up to if he hears us! Please! Please can you take him out until we're finished? We want everything to be perfect!"

"Ok, sure, I can do that. When do you want us to come back?"

"I'll text you when we're ready, how does that sound?"

"Yeh, I'm fine with that. Alright, I'll go ask him"

"Thank you thank you thank you!!!"

And off she bounded, straight back down the hall. For the princess of hell, she was surprisingly adorable. Chuckling to yourself, you walked up to Alastor's door and knocked.

"Ah! Good day to you my dear. What a pleasant surpise"

"It's nice to see you too Alastor. I was just wondering if you wanted to go for a walk with me?"

"My, I would love to. Let me just grab my staff. Say, before we go, might I borrow you for a moment?"

"Yeh, sure. (Closing his door as you enter his room) What do you need?"

He approaches you, desire in his eyes, taking in all of your features.

"Why.....I need you......my darling......I dare say, we were so rudely interrupted yesterday, and I would very much like to return to what I was planning on doing"

"Oh really...I can't possibly imagine what you mean by that....why don't you show me?...."

"With pleasure....."

Taking you by the waist, he has you against him, hands resting on his strong chest, feeling the warmth of his body radiating into your palms. Keeping searing eye contact with you, he's slow as he leans in, tilting his head to the side, and locking his soft lips with yours. Oh wow he was good. He captured your tounge and lips in a carnal hunger, craving the touch and taste of your lips, deepening each moment, growing more and more passionate. His hand slid up your neck and into your hair, keeping you as close to him as possible. It made you feel almost dizzy, he had literally taken your breath away. When the kiss slowed down, and he pulled away just a little, both you and him were a slignty breathless. But his smile never left, and his eyes still burned for you.

".....Oh......wow Alastor.....I never knew you could kiss like that"

"That is something for only you to know my dear.....I have dreamed of your taste for many days and nights.....and yet they were sweeter than I could have possibly fathomed"

"How long have you been imagining me?"

"Too long my dear.....too long. Now then! Shall we away? I know of a very pleasant route that can take us past Cannibal Town. Would you like that"

"That sounds nice, lead the way. Oh, and Alastor?"

"Hm?"

"Next time you kiss me like that, make it a little longer..."

"Oh ho, don't you worry my dear......I plan too...."

Neither of you saw Charlie jumping for joy when she saw you and Alastor leave, now she could set up for the party properly, without the possibility of him walking in on the suprise. You and Alastor meanwhile, had been walking for about an hour now, but neither of you noticed how quick the time had gone. You were just enjoying eachothers company, hearing eachothers stories, walking to the main square of Cannibal Town.

"I say, I see Rosie over there, shall we say hello?"

"I'd love too"

During the walk, your arm was looped in with his, and that didn't change, even as you both approached Rosie on tne sidewalk.

"Good day Rosie!"

"Alastor! Hello sweetie, back to see me so soon?"

"But of course, it's always a pleasure to see you. And I have with me Y/N"

"Hi Y/N! Gosh I haven't seen you in such a long time. How are you honey?"

"I'm good thank you. It's nice to see you again"

"Same to you too honey. Say? Isn't it someone's special day today? C'mon Alastor!"

"Ah yes....I am aware it is my birthday Rosie"

"Ain't you doing anything to celebrate?"

"I dare say, the only two people in the hotel who know of this, are dear Y/N hear, and an unfortunate dim wit who also resides in the hotel"

"But ain't you gunna do anything for it?"

"If I am being truthful Rosie, just walking through the city and conversing with Y/N, has actually been one of the most enjoyable ways I have spend my birthday, dead or alive"

Awww, that's so sweet of him to say. He's such a gentleman.

"Well aren't you a darling Alastor! (Looks between you and him) It seems you may may have found a lovely lady to finaly spend some quality time with. And I always thought you were an ace in the hole"

"A what now?"

"Never mind sweetie. I've got to go see some people who need my help in Cannibal Town, I'll see you two lovelies later!"

She happily walked down the street. You couldn't help but smile up at Alastor.

"My my, what's made me lucky enough to witness such a beautiful smile?"

"The way you just spoke about me just then. It was wonderful"

"Aha, I always make sure you know how appreciated you are my darling. Now, shall we make our way back to the hotel? It's starting to get dark"

"Wait, not yet"

Realizing Charlie hasn't texted you yet, you luckily thought of a plan B for this on the way, remembering to sneek just a little something into your pocket before heading out with Alastor.

"Why ever not my dear?"

"You've not said anything about your birthday today Alastor, but I want you to know that I haven't forgotten to get you anything"

"I know my dear, but I do not expect anyone to say or give me anything, simply because I was born on this day"

"You say that, but I just wanted to give you a little something"

"Oh ho my dear, I do believe your kiss was more than enough as a gift for me today"

"That's so sweet Alastor. But, I'm still going to give you this anyway"

"I say, what is it?"

You held in your hand, giving it to him, a small box.

"It's not much, but I used to make things out of resin, make them 3D and paint them to look like everyday things. This is just something I made that reminded me of you"

Opening the box, his eyes grew at the sight of the little home made keying. Lifting it out of the box with his finger, it was a 3D version of a bowl of Jambalaya, in a circular clear resin. It looked like Jambalaya inside a clear marble.

"Oh my dear.....it's wonderful"

"I'm glad you like it"

"I love it. Thank you!"

He couldn't contain his happiness, and pulled you in for a quick hug.

"I shall place this on my staff. I dare day it gives it a touch of class, don't you think?"

"I do, it goes together nicely. Oh, I'm getting a text"

Yes, Charlie was finished, and at just the right time too.

"You wanna head back then Alastor?"

"With pleasure my dear"

It was dusk by the time you both arrived back at the hotel, arms still linked, and his smile larger than ever. It was dark inside from your view of the window, but you did glance Nifty's head, quickly being pulled down by Angel.

"May I confess something to you before we enter my dear?"

"Of course you can"

"I didn't always enjoy my birthday when I was a child. I had not experienced a party or a true celebration, but I always did have a wonderful time thanks to my mother. I'd just like to say thank you, for helping me remember that this day can contain happiness"

"Your welcome Alastor"

Reaching your hand up, you hold his cheek, stroking it with your thumb. His eyes fluttered shut, and his ears twisted together, he even leaned into your touch. Opening the door for you like a true gentleman, your the first to walk into the dark lobby, followed by him.

"SUPRISE!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!"

The voices of Charlie, Angel and Nifty all scream when you come in, turning the lights on to reveal the lobby, decorated just like a club from the 1920's, including everyone dressed in their 1920's outfits.

"Oh my word!! I was truly not expecting this! My dear Y/N, did you know that Charlie and the others had prepared this suprise?"

"I might have done"

"Oh you are a sly one...I love it. Thank you very much everyone, this is a wonderful suprise. It truly feels like I'm back in New Orleans. I say? Are those deviled eggs? And dutchess potatoes and-huh! Is that a roasted duck with a candle on the top to have instead of a cake?!"

Alastor can't help but be drawn to the table laden with foods of his memories, smiling and chuckling as he scans them all. Charlie slipped over to you, nudging you on the shoulder.

"He loves it! Thank you for the suggestion Y/N, it's perfect"

"No worries Charlie. You and the others did a great job at decorating. Aaand I can already see Angel admiring himself in the mirror"

"Oh yeh, he loves costume. Alright! Let's get this party started!"

That evening actually went really well, Alastor carved the duck, everyone ate the food, Angel and Husk got tipsy at the bar, and Nifty liked cleaning up behind anyone who was messy. Alastor still had big shiny eyes at the decor and nibbles, it truly did remind him of home. And thankfully, Lucifer was there but stayed a good distance away from Alastor, and also you. Your not suprised though, you did shout at him. You were actually quite shocked he didn't hit you with one of his wings, or try to kill you. As a sinner who spoke to the king of hell like that, you half expected to be at least suffering with a few bruises. You were stood laughing with Alastor, when Angel and Husk stumbled over, drinks in hand.

"Happy birthday smiles! How'd yah like my outfit? Pretty sexy huh?"

"You seem rather intoxicated there Angel. But yes, your attire does suit you splendidly"

"Thanks! Hey uh, I've got your present hear smiles! Hear yah go! I hope you like it!"

He hands Alastor a box with a ribbon, and upon opening it, Alastor chuckles and shakes his head.

"Angel Angel Angel..."

"What? Don't yah like it?"

Angel asks as Alastor pulls it out to have a better look, at a custom made cooking apron with his name on, and a picture of the map of New Orleans.

"It's marvellous my good man. I shall very much take pleasure in using this the next time I prepare my signature dish"

"Nice!"

"And what about you Husk? Did you get me anything"

"You own my soul. I ain't gotta get you shit"

"Aha! As humorous as ever my good man!"

"C'mon Angel. I need another drink"

You weren't suprised Husk didn't get him anything, He hates him. Next, Charlie and Vaggie came up to you and Alastor.

"Hi! I've got you a birthday present too Alastor!"

"That is very kind of you Charlie"

She excitedly hands him a small box, Vaggie on the other hand just looks away with a grumpy face. Just like Husk, Vaggie doesn't like him either.

"My my! How delightful! This is just what I was attempting to acquire on my last visit to town! Thank you Charlie"

"Your welcome Alastor! I know you said you needed a monocle cleaning kit, and I managed to find one!"

"I shall use it regularly. You have my thanks"

As Alastor chats with Charlie and Vaggie, a small hand takes yours and pulls you towards the end of the food table.

"Lucifer?"

"Hey. How are you?"

"Fine thanks. What's up?"

"Listen, I uh...I just wanna say sorry about the last time we spoke"

"Don't be, it's fine. Water under the bridge"

"Really? Are you sure?"

"Yeh, no worries Lucifer. Today's about celebrating. No need to think or worry about squabbles or arguments that happened"

"Oh! Thank you! I swear, I thought you'd tear me a new one if I came up to you today"

"Really? I'm suprised you didn't do the same. Your Lucifer Morningstar, and I'm just a sinner"

"Oh no no no! I wouldn't do that. Besides, I wouldn't do that to a friend"

"Thanks Lucifer. Your my friend too. So? Do you have anything to give Alastor?"

"(Grumbles) Not a gift....but I suppose......I can be......nice? To him?"

"It's the thought that counts Lucifer, trying to be nice is better than round 2. Come on then"

Begrudgingly, Lucifer does come back with you, just as Charlie and Vaggie walk away.

"My dear....oho! Why, if it isn't the tiny king? I dare say, I didn't see you there at first..all the way down there!"

"Oh yeh?! Well-"

He stops himself, taking a breath and putting on a smile.

"Yeh, I'm am short aren't I? But you know what they say, big things come in small packages, Ha! I uh....ehem....I wish you....a happy birthday......"

"My oh my? What a suprisingly thoughtful thing to say. One might think you were incapable of speaking to me without venom spitting from your lips"

"No no, I uh......can be nice.....so, anyway, happy birthday or whatever. I've gotta go!"

He sped over to Charlie so quick, you could tell he was gritting his teeth and trying his hardest not to tear Alastor a new one. But your proud that he tried.

"Isn't that nice? Charlie, Vaggie and Angel getting you birthday presents, and Lucifer wishing you a happy birthday too"

"I am rather stunned I must say. I half expected it from Charlie, but I was pleasantly surprised by Angel. One might think it was a tacky gift, but it has character. And as for little Lucifer? I believe that was far more entertaining than watching Vox loose his internet connection! Aha!"

"But are you enjoying your party?"

"Oh yes, absolutely. I'm not one for a crowd, but this is rather pleasant. And the food hear is very tasteful. Would you care for an oyster rockefeller?"

"No thank you, I'm ok. But Alastor?"

"Yes?"

"I was just wondering, if maybe we could go to your room for a moment?"

"Of course my darlin-Oh! Ooh...do you wish to 'share' some quality time? Because if that is the case, I am more than happy to oblige"

"Well, you may want to after"

"After? Hm? Now I am even more intrigued. Please, lead the way my dear"

You and him slip away up the stairs, and down the hallway to his room.

"I'll see you in there Alastor. I've just got to grab something"

"Of course, I shall await you"

Quickly, you run to your room, and see your gift for him has woken up, and is in a happy, playful mood.

"Alright little lady, time to meet your new daddy"

Keeping her in the carrier, you place a blanket over and carry her through the hallways, into Alastor's room.

"So my dear, do you care to explain the sneaking around your......I say?......what is that you are placing on the floor? And why has it got a blanket over it?"

"Well, the thing is Alastor, that little keyring I gave you wasn't your main present"

"Oh really? But I did enjoy it so! It's wonderful and I truly treasure it, because you were the wonderful lady who made it for me"

"I know Alastor, and that so sweet to hear. But........if you take a peak in hear, you'll see your main present....."

"Ooooh! How thrilling! (Gets on his knees and pulls away the blanket) It seems there is something moving in hear, let me just open this little door, and-"

He gasps. Unable to take his eyes off the little moving creature inside the carrier. His hands cover his mouth, a small tear running down his cheek, he looks so happy.

"Oh....oh my darling......this is the best gift I have ever received...."

He reaches into the carrier, carefully pulling out the little animal, cradling her in his arms.

"Are you happy?"

"I've never been happier my dear. I can't believe you've got me a baby alligator!"

"You like her then?"

"It's a girl?!"

"Yep. I know you prefer girls to boys in any animal or person, it made sence to get you a female"

"Oh.....she's perfect! I don't know how I can ever repay you"

"No need, she's a birthday present. And I hope you have fun taking care of her. Oh! She hasn't got a name yet, you can name her if you like"

"How wonderful! Let's see.....I think she looks like an.........Abigail! Yes! It's suits her, Abigail it is"

He happily tickles her smooth belly, her little tail wiggles as he does, almost as if she could laugh. His smile has never been bigger, and his eyes are filled with love. Sometimes, when times are tough, having a pet that loves you unconditionally is exactly what you need. He looks like a proud dad, placing Abigail on the floor, and letting her sniff and walk around his room and swamp area, this place was perfect for her, it won't take her long to settle in at all.

"Awwww, she's already playing in the water. She was cute when I picked her up, but now she's even cuter. Don't you think Alas-"

Very unexpectedly, Alastor grabs you by the waist, spins you around, bends you down as he holds you, pressing his lips you yours as your eyes flutter shut. He kisses you and holds you so romantically, it makes you feel lighter than air. Slowly, he let's you stand back up, still holding you in his arms.

"I never expected I gained such a romantic gentleman. I've never been kissed like that before"

"Trust me when I say, this will be a recurring and very pleasurable moment we shall share together. I can promise you that. Infact, would you like to share my bed this evening?"

"Really? Sharing your bed?"

"I simply wish to hold you and kiss you to the point you feel flush and faint in my embrace. I'd like to....quite literally take your breath away....."

"Any woman would be mad not to want that, ok. But aren't you going to be busy with Abigail? She is a baby after all"

"Worry not my darling, I am very good at caring for animals like her, she shall be happy and comfortable by the time me and you are both curled up in my bed"

"Has anyone ever told you, your a really sweet man?"

"Only you my dear, only you. (Sweet kiss to your lips). Now! I do believe I should introduce little Abigail hear, to the rest of the hotel! She will be living here after all!"

"What do you think the reactions of the others will be?"

"There's only one way to find out....."

Picking up Abigail, he ran to the staircase so fast, your hair blew in the wind. You just laugh, seeing how excitable he was at having a pet, it made you feel amazing. You smile walking to the staircase, and leaning against the banister at the top, watching and chuckling at Alastor below. He's holding Abigail up in his arms so proudly, showing her to everyone. Charlie, Lucifer and Angel actually think she's cute, stroking her head and belly. Husk hides behind the bar, swearing and shouting at the sight of an alligator in the hotel, Pentious and Vaggie keep their distance, looking a little sheepish, and Nifty sits on Alastor's shoulder, cooing at Abigail. This was definitely going to be an interesting new time in the hotel, an alligator? Alastor with an alligator? Let's see what will happen.

Link to part 1

[lynzishell]

Prev // Next

Transcript below the cut:

Atlas: Why are you looking at me like that? Dawn: You’re gonna be a daaaaad!! Atlas: Stop.

Dawn: I can’t help it, I’m so excited! Atlas: It’s a bit soon for that level of excitement. Can you dial it back a little, at least until there’s an actual baby to be excited about? Dawn: Ugh. Fine. But keep me updated, every step of the way.

Atlas: You and everyone else. Honestly, from now on I’m just going to send a mass text every time there’s an update. I’ve had the same conversation five times in the last three days and it’s exhausting. Dawn: I can imagine. Oh! Did I tell you Li is training to become a doula? Atlas: You didn’t, that’s great.

Li: It’s something I’ve wanted to do for a long time, and your sister has been very encouraging. Dawn: Mayybe whoever you decide to carry your little bundle of joy would be interested in hiring her. Li: Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, I’m just starting the process. But, I can make some recommendations if needed. Atlas: Good to know. Just one question. What’s a doula?

Asher: How are things going with your dad? Phoenix: [shrugs] Fine. Asher: Yeah? Have you let him meet your family yet? Phoenix: [scoffs] Would you? Asher: Sure.

Phoenix: Of course you’d say that. Asher: What’s that supposed to mean? Phoenix: You don’t know what it’s like, that’s all. You’ve always been close with your parents. They’ve always been there for you. Your family’s… perfect.

Asher: No family is perfect, but point taken. I know I can’t fully understand, but the man is trying right? He’s been consistent, and he’s a part of your life now. Don’t you think you’re being just a little stubborn? Phoenix: [sighs] Can we talk about something else? Asher: Nah, I’m having fun with this. Phoenix: Get the fuck out of my kitchen then. Asher: So touchy. Fine… change the subject.

Phoenix: Do you think you’ll get another dog? Asher: Definitely. I was planning to as soon as Atlas and I moved into a new place, but who knows when that will be now. Phoenix: Danny keeps insisting I need to get one for Annie. For a ten-year-old, he’s very convincing. Asher: [laughs] I like him already. Phoenix: The thing is, I’ve never had a dog, or a pet of any kind. I don’t really know where to start. Asher: Now, that I can help with.

[onebadassunicorn]

All I Want Is You

pairing: Azriel x Reader

content warnings: pure fluff!

word count: 914

Taglist: @firefly-forest @salvatoresister1 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @batboyslutt @tiredsleepyhead

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

******

Chapter 6

Azriel POV

The night was calm, a perfect contradiction to the storm raging within Y/n as her labor progressed. Azriel hovered beside her, his shadows restless, flickering around the room like anxious guardians. Despite his stoic nature, his golden-hazel eyes betrayed his emotions—fear, excitement, and a love so deep it could drown the world.

“You’re doing so well,” he whispered, brushing a damp strand of hair from her flushed face.

She managed a weak smile through the pain, her hand gripping his so tightly he thought she might crack his bones.

He didn’t mind.

He’d endure far worse for her and the life they’d created together.

The midwife and healer moved efficiently, their voices calm and encouraging, though Y/n barely heard them. The only thing grounding her was Azriel’s steady presence. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing her temple as he murmured, “Just a little more, love. Our son is almost here.”

The words sent a shiver of determination through her.

Their son.

A boy who would carry the strength of both his parents and the love of the family that surrounded him.

A boy destined to be cherished.

She bore down with a final cry, and the room was filled with the sound of a newborn’s wail—a cry so fierce and pure it stole Azriel’s breath.

“Do you have a name for him?” the healer asked softly, her voice barely breaking the moment.

“Eryan,” She whispered through tears as the healer placed the squirming, red-faced baby on her chest.

It was the name she and Azriel chose together.

She looked to Azriel, who was already reaching for their son, his hands trembling as he cradled the tiny life they had created.  

Azriel whispered. “His name is Eryan. It means ‘eternal light.’”

His throat tightened, a rare sob escaping his lips as he gazed at his son.

Eryan’s cries softened as if recognizing the safety of his father’s arms. The tiny boy blinked up at him, his eyes the exact shade of Azriel’s golden-hazel, flecked with warmth and intensity. Tufts of thick, dark hair crowned his head, unruly and so much like his father’s. But it was the wings that stole Azriel’s breath entirely - small, delicate, but unmistakably Illyrian, with the faintest shimmer of power in their velvety black expanse.

“Wings,” Azriel choked out, his voice breaking. “He has wings.”

Y/n smiled through her tears, her exhaustion melting away as she watched Azriel marvel at their son. “Of course, he does. Just like his daddy.”

Azriel’s shadows swirled protectively around them, as if welcoming Eryan into their fold. His fingers tracing the soft curve of one tiny wing. “He’s perfect.”

The door to the birthing room creaked open, and Cassian’s booming voice broke the reverent silence. “Is it safe to come in, or will Az kill me for interrupting?”

Azriel turned, his face still wet with tears and gestured for the others to enter. The Inner Circle poured in—Cassian holding a wiggling Azriella, who squealed with excitement, Mor clutching a bouquet of wildflowers, and Feyre and Rhysand with matching smiles of pure joy. Amren stood at the back, her sharp eyes softening as she took in the scene.

“Daddy!” Azriella called, her tiny wings fluttering as she reached for him.

Cassian grinned, adjusting his hold on her as he set her down. “She’s been waiting all night to meet her little brother.”

Azriel chuckled, a sound filled with warmth. He crossed the room and knelt before Azriella, gently lowering Eryan so she could see him. “Ella Bear, this is your baby brother,” he said softly, his voice rich with pride. “Eryan.”

Azriella’s eyes widened, her little hands reaching out to touch her brother’s cheek. “He’s so little!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with wonder. Her gaze drifted to Eryan’s wings, her own fluttering in excitement. “He has wings like you, Daddy!”

“That he does,” Azriel said, his voice thick with emotion. “And maybe one day, you can help teach him to fly.”

Azriella’s face lit up. “I will! I promise, Daddy!”

Feyre picked up Azriella and perched her on her hip, while Cassian pulled Azriel into a rare, bone-crushing hug. “You did it, brother,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re a father of two now.”

Azriel laughed, shaking his head as he pulled back to look at his son again. “I still can’t believe it.”

Rhysand stepped forward, placing a hand on Azriel’s shoulder. “He’s beautiful,” Rhys said, his tone reverent. “And with parents like you and Y/n, he’ll grow into someone extraordinary.”

Mor leaned over Y/n, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You’re amazing,” she said. “Absolutely amazing.”

Y/n smiled weakly, exhaustion written across her face, but her heart was full. “We did it,” she whispered, her eyes meeting Azriel’s. “Our family is complete.”

Azriel returned to her side, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed as he placed Eryan back into her arms. “Our eternal light,” he murmured, his shadows still curling protectively around them all.

The room was filled with laughter and love, the Inner Circle reveling in the arrival of its newest member. And in that moment, as Azriel watched his son and daughter together, he realized he’d found his own eternal light in them—and in the woman who had given him this special gift.

Chapter 7

[shinobi-illuminator]

Out of all the au kids for Arcane I made for fun, Asher has been the most talkative to me. Goofy, cocky, people pleaser, wants to help make big changes to the two cities. Despite wanting to join the counsel when he got older, Asher had always been an artist at heart. Stained Glass being his focus despite his young age.

The set up is Jayce and Mel tied the knot and Jayce appointed Viktor his best man for his wedding and godfather to his son. But on the day of the birth, Mel had hemorrhaged and was losing a lot of blood. She had only gotten to see and name her son briefly before going into shock. Her golden markings sparked before suddenly fading from her body. Then Asher's skin was glowing with these same golden birthmarks. She had passed her magic onto him and no one had known.

Jayce was heartbroken. He suffered emotional whiplash from having his happiest day suddenly turn into one of the worst days of his life. He was a wreck when trying to console his son. Viktor couldn't wait any longer in the waiting room and went in. He saw the sad sight and helped hold Asher with Jayce. Viktor never thought about having kids, but looking down at Asher made him feel this surge of love and protectiveness as if he was his son.

Viktor stuck around to help Jayce. They went over Mel's belongings and funeral arrangements together all the while trying to tackle the joys and struggles of fatherhood. Jayce loved his son to pieces, but he was still grieving for Mel. Viktor knew that and would try to take care of Asher when Jayce needed to rest and collect himself. Asher looked so much like his late mother. Sky became the unofficial auntie, she made sure Asher had plenty of blankets, toys, and food. She was willing to babysit him while they had to deal with their jobs at the lab and counsel. With Mel gone, Jayce became the head of the counsel and dealt with her estate. Viktor in the meantime knew deep down he wasn't going anywhere. After some time raising Asher together with Jayce he felt closer to him more than ever. He proposed to be his husband. In no time they were married, now with Sky as Asher's godmother.

Jayce was very loving to Asher but was also very protective of his little boy. The first time he brought him to see the Hexgates, Asher looked out and could see Zaun. He had never been there and had big dreams of making it better. He wanted to go there, but Jayce immediately shot that idea down. It was far too dangerous. But to Asher he saw it as Viktor's old home. He went to Viktor afterwards and asked if he could take him then. But Viktor also said no. Though Viktor had different views on Zaun, he knew it wouldn't be wise for Asher to go. But Asher pointed out Viktor wasn't dangerous, so it shouldn't be that bad. Viktor was touched by that statement, but still declined to take him there.

But being a curious boy, Asher HAD to go and see for himself. Against both father's wishes, he sneaked out. In his eyes, if he was gonna rule these people one day he should at least go there once. Sadly he didn't think anyone wanted to hurt him before he got abducted by a brace of drug goons. Just when Asher feared he made the worst mistake of his life Jayce burst in and slaughtered them with his hammer. Asher was traumatized, he knew he fucked up big time. People died, and his father was furious because of him. Jayce could see he was in shock and carried him back home across the bridge. Being paranoid, Jayce got into an argument with Viktor accusing him of putting ideas into his son's head insinuating he told him to go. Viktor did no such thing and tried to reason back, but Jayce wouldn't hear it. Asher could hear them fighting outside his room. Jayce then said something he came to regret.

"He's not your son, Viktor!"

Hearing that felt like a stab to the gut for Viktor, he couldn't even speak. Asher then charged in and shouted at them to stop fighting. He insisted it was his fault, not Viktor's-- not anybodies! He was a sobbing mess. He didn't want his father's to say such hateful things because of his own mistakes. Jayce saw he messed up too and tried to apologize. But Asher just clung onto Viktor brawling apology after apology to his second father. Viktor was touched and tried to calm him down. Asher promised he'd never ever go to Zaun again and was practically demanding them to punish him so long as they didn't fight. Jayce and Viktor exchanged glances. Despite Asher disobeying them they could see he was already punishing himself already as is. They let him off the hook so long as he didn't try and run away like that again. They let Asher sleep between them in bed, he was exhausted. Viktor was still hurt by Jayce, but he knew Jayce felt regretful for what he said. He'd forgive him... But it would take longer to forget what he said.

Over the course of several days Asher practically bent backwards trying to get things back to normal. Any opportunity he could find he'd try and make things feel romantic for Viktor and Jayce. Being a child, he had a very... naive idea to what went into love. But the two fathers were amused by his antics and had no choice but to fall back in love through it. Asher knew they loved each other and he was gonna be determined to keep them together.

[prettygoododds]

Thank you so much @rimeswithpurple @emeryhall @roomwithanopenfire @monbons @nausikaaa @artsyunderstudy and @martsonmars for the tags! You can definitely tell everyone is done digging themselves out of the holidays and countdown. I'm loving all the content I'm seeing.

I've particularly liked seeing some people's fandom's resolutions. It made me think of my own.

I spent a lot of last year trying to find a good balance between the things I'm obligated to do and the things I want to do. By the time the COC hit, I was in the mindset that the things I needed to do were too much and I had to skip COC this year. This made me incredibly angry and resentful. I hated that the thing I wanted to do was the thing I gave up. So, with spite fueling me forward, I did the COC and I'm so glad I did. But that did make me reflect on how I proceed.

I'm not going to overthink things. I'm going to do the things that make me happy. And what makes me happy is this fandom, the supportive people in it and writing. I need to lean on other folks for the things that are obligations. I don't have to do all the things, but I should at least do the things that bring me joy.

That being said, who wants to see a little of that joy?

Picket Fence blurb:

This happens again and again.  An almost blowie in his kitchen, a hot and heavy grind on his sofa that came to an abrupt halt when his aunt stopped by, and one unfortunate tumble in his garden that ended with both of us thorny and grumpy. And look, I’m all for edging, but not like this. Not spread out over days and days and with no actual end in sight.  I’m ready to explode. Literally.

A non-Carry On blurb (A Power Unbound Jack/Alan) :

“Apologies my lord,” Alan says back, breathing heavily into neck. “I wasn’t expecting you.” “Am I to understand you are always entertaining handsome men at your desk then?” “There was a handsome man at my desk?” Alan says cheekily. “I only saw you, my lord. Who could see anyone else once you’re in the room.” “You do not have to placate me,” Jack growls, frustrated by his own insecurities. “I know a younger, better man when I see one.” “You’ll have to point them out to me next time,” Alan says, catching Jack’s chin in his fingers and forcing him to look him in the eyes. “For I saw no one who could hold a candle to my stubborn aristocrat.” Jack has to close his eyes and absorb that last sentence.

I have something else that I'll be posting soon, but I don't want to spoil it so just know you'll see something soon-ish.

I've also got to start work shopping something for the COBB. If anyone has an idea I would not be opposed to a little jump start because I am stuck.

Ok, well, I feel this got wordy. Thanks if you stayed to the end. Here's some very non-pressure tags:

@ic3-que3n @dohrnaira @thewholelemon @facewithoutheart @imagineacoolusername

@shemakesmeforget @ivelovedhimthroughworse @wellbelesbian @aristocratic-otter @cutestkilla

@blackberrysummerblog @supercutedinosaurs @nightimedreamersworld @valeffelees @iamamythologicalcreature

@shrekgogurt @ileadacharmedlife @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @hushed-chorus @youarenevertooold

@noblecorgi @talentpiper11 @bookish-bogwitch

[everlastingdreams]

The Weeping Monk x Fem!Reader : Forged Of Fire Chapter 39

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Story Summary: Raised under the tiranny of your own family, and forced to steal to earn your keep, you struggle to survive. Born from a Fey mother, and a Manblood father who wanted only sons, you are forced to hide your Fey side. When you are ordered to steal from Father Carden by your half-brother, Cassian, your life spirals out of control and you find yourself at the mercy of the Weeping Monk. The life you knew changes drastically when Cassian betrays you in the cruelest of ways. A trade is made, a promise is broken, and a debt must be paid.

Chapter Title: Born Of Fire

Notes: /

Warnings: Angst. Hurt. Trauma bonding. Intrafamily violence. Depression. Self-harm. Suicidal thoughts. Violence. Torture. Gore. Pining. Trauma. Self-Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc. Lima/Stockholm syndrom-ish. Childhood trauma.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forced Marriage. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn. Found Familly-ish. Comfort. Fluff. !SMUT and SPICE!

Word count of this fic: +250K

Chapter:  39/47

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The journey to this cursed castle continued. Merlin and Lancelot rode together and you couldn’t help but keep an eye on them. Lancelot said few words to him, but Merlin carried the conversation between them without a problem. Of course you were curious to know what was being said, but surely he would tell you if it was something important.

Percival was clothed well against the colder weather, he had wrapped the scarf around his neck and it covered half his face, the cloak kept him perfectly warm. Some of the crew were singing a sea shanty a little to your right and you grew to like it, while Pym was encouraged by them to learn the lyrics too and join in.

Gawain came to ride beside you, something had caught his curiosity. “I have not seen you wear a ring before.”

It was so obvious that he was fishing for information, the statement was just to breach the subject.

“It was a gift.” you bit back a smirk.

“Oh?” He acted like he wasn’t eager to be nosy. “From Lancelot?”

You learned that the Green Knight was terrible at pretending. “Yes.”

“Any special reason?” He was still acting like he did not know exactly what it was.

“Gawain.” You looked at him. “Yes. It is a wedding band.”

The knight was happy to hear it. “He has spoken of his regrets on how it began between you. No vows taken, no ceremony. It has left a scar within him.”

You had no idea Lancelot had spoken of it to Gawain. “The past doesn’t matter now-”

He interrupted. “It matters to him, y/n. He was raised by the scriptures, he may no longer be a monk but the spirit of a marriage holds a great value to him. And he feels guilty for how the choice was taken from you.”

It left you half shocked. “I carry no resentment anymore for how this marriage came to be. Marrying me off to him was probably the only good thing Father Carden ever did.”

Gawain knew it to be true. “But he knows that the joy of experiencing a wedding, or joining, was stolen away. It bothers him, I know it does. I could hear it in his voice when he spoke of it.”

“It was not his fault…” you sighed quietly. “He has to know that.”

He got quieter. “Part of him knows, but the guilt he feels is making it difficult to see where his faults and those of another are. He is making amends, righting every wrong he sees, and that ring is part of it.”

You looked down at the ring. “Do you think he might ever be free of the guilt he feels?”

He thought on it for a moment. “Only if he lets himself be in time.”

In time… and until that time the guilt would continue to scratch at his soul. “The world’s burdens is not his to carry alone.”

The knight nodded in agreement. “Be not concerned, y/n. He is not alone in this, we are here to help.”

It was a comfort to know. Lancelot was beginning to find his place among the group, and after years of having to hide his heritage in solitude he could now be himself.

    ~~~♡~~~♡~~~♤~~~♡~~~♡~~~

  Merlin had announced not so long ago that the cursed castle was near. And indeed the group came to a halt in front of a large and high rock formation that stole the sunlight from the forest beneath it. The castle was ingrained within the rock formation, as if it was a part of it. The entire place was overgrown by vines that held it in an unbreakable hold. Arthur and Red Spear, along with some of the crew, tried to cut through them but as Merlin had told the vines did not yield.

“How do we get inside?” Lancelot asked Merlin.

Merlin pointed to a spot nearby that was covered in bushes. “There should still be an entrance there.”

Upon closer inspection, the magician was right. There were stone steps that leaded down to a heavy wooden door covered in the strange vines.

Merlin spoke his plan out loud, “We must proceed on foot from here, and enter through the dungeons to find our way to the ground floor. If the curse can be broken, we will return for the horses and bring them to the front of the fort.”

“Why not ride to the front entrance now?” Red Spear was impatient.

Merlin dampened that impatience. “The front entrance of the castle is completely overgrown by the vines. We cannot cut through them, their destruction must come from within.”

“Then how do we even get in?” Pym chimed in.

Merlin looked towards Lancelot and stepped aside to make room to let him pass. “We follow him.”

Lancelot felt all the eyes on him, swallowed thickly, and went to to the door. You could see how nervous he was when he reached for the door. But the vines retracted from his touch, letting him proceed. He got the door open, although the rusted hinges made it difficult and some rubble was at the foot of the door. He held it open, letting the rest of the group in first. Percival, you and Pym were the last to enter. Percival easily slithered inside. Pym looked at the rubble with distrust, which Lancelot noticed. He held out his hand for her to take, intending to help her step over the rubble.

Her mouth fell open, eyes went wide, it lasted only two seconds before she said, “I’m not clumsy.”

It made him chuckle, still he did not revoke the offer of helping her and after some hesitation she took hold of his hand to help her safely over the rubble that indeed decided to move under her feet. None of the others had seen the flicker of concern in her eyes, but he proved himself perceptive again. She uttered a quiet ‘Thank you’ and hurried inside after the others. He held out his hand again, for you this time, tilting his head down a little in respect. You took his hand to step over the rubble in case it would move under your feet too. Such a chivalrous and considerate gesture of him. And then you felt the unnecessary hand on your rear, as if it would help in case you fell. He made it look so casual, so normal, while you snapped your eyes to his face with burning cheeks. Not a speck of regret for his actions, not one, there was only confidence to be found in his eyes.

You confronted him, “I didn’t see you do that with Pym.”

He looked so smug. “Should I correct that?”

A warning look was send his way. “She looks like the sort of person who would make you regret trying, and I wouldn’t stop her.”

He moved around your back, briefly leaning in to whisper, “I recall you telling me that I am permitted to appreciate your behind.”

You squinted your eyes at him, vaguely remembering telling him so back at the inn. It felt impossible to scold him for it when he had such a smoldering look in his eyes just for you.

Gawain spoke for all to hear. “Let’s form pairs and search these grounds. See if it is safe.”

“No.” Lancelot interjected. “There is strength in numbers and we do not know what we are facing in this cursed place. We remain together until we know it is safe.”

“I agree with Lancelot.” Arthur said.

“I did not ask.” Gawain told Arthur.

Even Lancelot winced at how icy the knight could be towards the Manblood. There was a certain competitiveness between Arthur and Gawain, two different characters that could work together and clash just as easily.

Pym scrunched her nose. “Why wouldn’t it be safe? The place is covered in vines that won’t let anyone in.”

Lancelot took no offense to her question. “If this curse can keep this whole fort from the world outside, who says it is all it can do?”

“There is nothing wrong with wanting to be certain.” Merlin said to all. “Let us find the forge we seek here first. If we end this curse we will have time to explore.”

They all looked at each other, Red Spear was the first to agree to the plan and the rest followed.

        The exploration of the castle began. Vines covered every wall, every door, everything. You could feel the presence of the Hidden, but there was something else, something that surpassed them. Torches had been taking off from the walls and lighted to see in the dark halls. The windows let in no sunlight, inside it was as if everything was frozen in the past. You avoided touching the vines, worrying that they formed a threat. The whole thing made you feel on edge and you stayed in the light of the torches as much as possible.

“Do not be afraid.” Merlin noticed your growing anxiousness.

You spoke quickly, “I feel strange.”

He hoped to calm you. “The Hidden were not the first gods, Festa and Moreii worshiped those before them. You may feel their presence here.”

“Are they dangerous?” you asked.

“Dangerous? No.” he said. “But they will let themselves be known if they see it necessary.”

“Let’s hope they don’t find it necessary then…” you mumbled.

He found it almost amusing to see you uneasy towards something he had decades of knowledge and experience with. “Your clan began here. These walls have heard the first cries of babes for many years. Have faith that the spirits residing here welcome the Ash Folk.”

You took it to heart. “I hope so.”

As the walk through the castle continued, you often felt like you had seen the vines moves in the corner of your eyes, only to find them completely still when looking their way. Something older than the Hidden lingered in these halls, it did not feel threatening only very odd and unfamiliar.

You heard your name be called, a whisper that somehow sounded loud. Lancelot spun around, drawing his sword, having heard it too, he first looked to where you were and then his eyes scanned his surroundings.

“What are you doing?” Percival looked up at him as if he were a madman.

He did not understand why the boy was not alarmed. “Did you not hear it?”

“Hear what?” Gawain was close to drawing his sword too.

“That whisper.” Lancelot realized no one else but the two of you had heard. He took hold of Percival’s jacket and brought the boy closer. “Y/n, walk beside me.”

By the tone that he had used, it was not up for discussion. And you had no argument to put forth against it, hearing your name be called by something that didn’t sound like the Hidden was frightening. You approached him, stopping a few steps away and he took hold of your jacket too to get you closer.

His eyes betrayed worry, his voice a command, “Stay close. Tell me if you hear anything out of the ordinary again.”

You nodded.

He turned to Merlin. “Have you been here before?”

Merlin had a mysterious smile on his face. “Just once. Years ago.”

Lancelot must have suspected that that was the case. “Then you know where to find this forge?”

“I do.” Merlin confirmed.

“Lead the way.” he told him.

Merlin walked passed him, taking the lead of the group, guiding them from hallway to hallway. Large steps leaded to a higher floor, into a wide hall. Two large doors reached the ceiling of the place. It took two people at each door to get them to open, their rusted hinges croaked under the weight of the wood. A large fire pit stood in the midst of the room and was at least seventeen foot across.

Merlin approached it, the height of the fire pit reached his middle. “Here is where they forged the Sword of Power. Fey Fire once burned within this very circle.” He reminisced on that knowledge and reached into the empty fire pit. “If we bring the Fey Fire back to this castle, it might shed it’s vines.”

Then all eyes were on Lancelot, while his went to yours. It didn’t need to be said that he did not want to do this alone.

Merlin turned to him, sensing the nervousness within Lancelot. “Creating the fire is one thing, making it last is another.”

You remembered how when you and Lancelot had touched that the flames were stronger. This fire needed to burn and keep on burning, to live as the Ash Folk lived. The rest of the group moved aside to let the two of you get near the fire pit.

“Such magic is awakened by strong emotions and can also be controlled by it.” Merlin said. “Return the fire to the Fey.”

Lancelot took over the torch that Gawain was carrying and put it down into the fire pit. That one torch inside such a large fire pit seemed far too little to be helpful, but it offered something for him to focus on. He had never practiced evoking the green fire.

Percival watched with great curiosity, standing a little on his toes to see it all better. Pym kept a few steps behind Gawain. Arthur and Red Spear tried not to show how much anticipation they harboured.

You saw Lancelot stand motionless, eyes set on the flame of the torch. All eyes were on him and he must have feared failing this task. One time he had awaken the fire, just once, and it had happened beyond his control after having seen Aldith strike you down. This moment held his future and he knew it. You went to stand beside him, watching as he reached for the flames and you almost pulled him back before remembering it could not burn him. His hand was unsteady, the flames licked his fingers. The others gawked at the sight of him touching the flames without a sign of discomfort. He closed his eyes, trying to focus on completing the task, trying to find the feeling inside of him that had caused it the last time. Seconds passed, the whole room had become so silent. His features had tensed, a look of frustration growing on his face. And then the fire grew a green hue, slowly but surely.

“It’s working!” you beamed with pride, your voice reached a higher pitch from joy. “You are doing so well!”

When you placed your hand onto his lower arm, the fire erupted with force. Bright green flames filled the fire pit, sending the group a couple of steps back in awe of the light it emitted. An unseen force was unleashed from the pit, an invisible magic explosion that went into all directions. It blasted the vines to ashes, and as the force traveled through the castle at high velocity the torches on the walls all lit aflame. It was life itself that surged into the castle again, tearing down the curse that held it in it’s power.

A pattern of leaves spread throughout the skin of Lancelot’s hand rapidly and traveled up to his neck, the veins of the leaves glowed like the fire that had awakened them. In the marks beneath his eyes a fiery glow ignited, mere seconds later you felt your own marks rise to the surface of your cheeks. From the stares, you knew your own marks were glowing too and never before had so many people seen your marks. Slowly you slid your hand along his arm, joining his own in the Fey Fire.

“You could have done this too.” he whispered, eyes glued to the flames

Your hands were intertwined. “This was yours to create. The Hidden were waiting for their kin to return, and here you are.”

The sunlight fell back in through the windows that were freed from the overgrowth of vines outside of it.

Merlin was content, his eyes were filled with wonder for the flames. “The castle returns to the eyes of the world, much like the Ash Folk. Once the Fey learn of this, it will give them renewed hope. What was lost is now found.”

Lancelot moved his hand out of the fire with your own, the glow on his skin was slowly dimming. “Did you feel that as well? When you touched me…”

“I felt it too.” It had been the spark that ignited the flame inside, for him and for you.

“You’re green.” Arthur bluntly pointed out, earning half a glare from Lancelot when he saw the Manblood’s shit-eating grin.

Percival hadn’t noticed that yet, he was too busy looking at the flames and trying to get closer but Gawain held him in place by the back of his jacket.

“It looks like leaves are in your skin.” Percival said upon noticing it.

Lancelot looked at his hand, seeing the pattern start to disappear. “It are just Fey markings.”

Pym tried to look at your hands. “Do you have those too?”

“Not right now.” You had went to stand a little behind Lancelot when you could feel that the marks beneath your eyes stayed visible. It had to be the presence of such strong Fey Fire causing this. You felt the others stare at them and discreetly put the hood of your cloak over your head in the hope that it would let a shadow fall upon your face. Lancelot had noticed how you went to stand a little more behind him with your head tilted down, self-conscious about your markings being seen by everyone, but he did not comment on it.

“Shame.” Pym blurted out. “Sorry…”

“The vines are gone. Does that mean the curse is broken?” Red Spear asked Merlin.

Merlin walked around the fire pit to admire the flames. “The curse was no match for the magic of the Ash Folk. The home of the Hidden is now in the hands of their heir.”

Lancelot frowned. “What?”

Merlin explained the situation, “This castle is yours, Lancelot. It thrives only under the possession of those who keep the flames alive.”

Lancelot shook his head. “The Fey will never accept that I am warden of this castle. This is to be a sanctuary for them- "

Merlin interrupted him, “Regardless of your past, the Fey need the magic of the Ash Folk if they wish to survive or even win this war. And the Hidden will not be kind to those who harm the last of their lineage.”

Gawain wasted no time moving the plan along. “We need to send news to Gramaire that the castle is under our command now.”

“I can call upon one of my messengers.” Merlin offered.

“Messengers?” Gawain asked.

To the magician it was a completely normal thing. “An owl, a dove, whichever one of them chooses to come when I call upon them.”

Gawain needed a second to process that. “Well… that would be helpful.”

“There is one more matter that we need to attend to.” Merlin gestured to Lancelot. “The sword. Before Nimue’s death I had wished to return it to the fire and destroy it, but now doubt has grown in me. The sword has chosen you, and you must choose what you do with it. I can no longer touch it, as you have seen. The choice now falls to you.”

Arthur sighed. “We need the sword.”

“The sword will not be what wins this war, it will be our choices that do.” Lancelot told him.

“But the sword will help.” Gawain was against burning the sword, that much was clear. “Destroying the sword is a mistake.”

“It was changing Nimue.” Pym chimed in. “It’s dangerous!”

The different opinions on the fate of the sword filled the room, making it impossible to make a well-thought through decision.

Lancelot drew the sword out from the sheath, the mystical tinkling sound filled the room. “If we cannot decide, then let the sword choose it’s fate.”

Gawain was wary. “What do you mean?”

He approached the fire with the sword, holding it near the flames. “If the Hidden gave us the power to create this fire, and by this fire the sword, then the fate of the sword is now in their hands.”

Gawain took a step closer. “What does-”

Lancelot let the sword fall into the flames, the voices of the Hidden let themselves be heard. Burning ashes rose above the flames and danced around the room. More and more burning ashes filled the room, causing alarm in those who witnessed it. The Hidden did not appreciate that their kin had thrown the sword into the flames, yet their kin was not intimidated by it in the slightest. Lancelot did not falter, not even when the ashes circled around him, he watched the flames lick the sword.

“Decide.” he demanded of them, an arrogance that none other would dare to have towards the old gods. “Or I will let it burn.”

Their whispers grew louder, frightening some of Red Spear’s crew and even herself even though she would never admit to it. Gawain and Arthur were seconds away from drawing their sword in defense of a power no one present could match. Percival ran up to you, grabbing hold on your lower arm. And then the Hidden whispered something that was not incoherent.

    ~“Dark angel…”~

    Everyone, even the Manbloods, had heard it be spoken. Most took a step back when the sword rose out of the flames on it’s own, levitating above them. The sword suddenly flew through the air and landed back at Lancelot’s feet, clattering loud against the tiles. Still, Lancelot did not pick the sword up, he just looked down at the responsibility thrown at his feet once more. The symbols engraved into the sword that translated to ‘Take me up’ still glowed that bright green glow of the flames. The Hidden had decided, their opinion on the existence of the sword was made clear.

Merlin stepped closer to Lancelot, seeing the doubt in the Ash Man. “The gods have spoken.”

His eyes did not lift from where the sword laid at his feet. “Why me? After all I have done…”

“Because they know what is yet to come, what you will still do.” Merlin said. “Their faith lies in you.”

Lancelot knelt down, the sword quietly tinkled in anticipation. “Gawain?”

Gawain was almost amused by it. “The gods themselves have made their decision known. Why still seek my approval?”

He looked at you, he looked at Percival, seeking the confirmation he needed that finally made him pick up the sword. He rose to his feet, the sword glowed brighter for a moment then slowly dimmed. Arthur approached him, nodding to himself, accepting that the sword was in the hands of the former Weeping Monk.

“Do good by the Fey, by us all.” Arthur told him with sincerity, then held his hand out.

It took Lancelot a few seconds to realize that Arthur was not silently asking him to hand over to sword, but to actually shake hands. It was not something you expected to see, them shaking hands, and yet that was exactly what happened.

Then Arthur turned to Merlin. “Can this fire be used to forge weapons for the Fey?”

“None as strong as the Sword of Power.” Merlin informed. “But yes, with Fey Fire weapons can be made of excellent strength.”

Gawain was quick to action again. “We need to ready this fort. Ensure it’s structure is intact and safe, explore the grounds and area, prepare it for when the Fey from Gramaire arrive.”

“Agreed.” Lancelot said.

They discussed the tasks and who would do what. Red Spear and her crew were send to scout the area surrounding the castle to see if it was safe and if there were useful matters to be found. Arthur and Pym paired up to walk around the castle to see if it was safe to inhabit, and to make sure it was not on the verge of crumbling apart. Merlin, Percival and Gawain were to search for anything useful or of interest in the castle, so were you and Lancelot. Finding weapons would be of great help and that was the main objective. Maps of the area were wanted, just anything that offered some aid. When they all went out of the large room to attend to their task, you and Lancelot stayed behind a moment longer. He reached for the hood of your cloak, but you caught his hand.

“My marks won’t go away.” you told him.

“It must be the fire.” He was concerned to see how you shied away because of it. “There is no reason to hide them, we are among our people.”

Years. Years you were forced to hide them from the world, from your own father and brother, and now they were on display for all to see. “How do I make them stop showing again?”

A frown set on his forehead. “Why would you want that?”

You shook your head, gaze falling to the floor. For so long they had been a threat to your existence, had Aldith or Cassian ever seen them whilst you were still living with them… you wouldn’t have survived long.

He stepped closer, leaning in to whisper with as much charm as he could manage. “They suit you so well.”

Your eyes snapped up to his face, a smirk curved his lips. “It’s just strange to not have to fear anymore that they will show.”

He could see that the compliment had a positive effect. “I enjoy seeing them out of hiding.”

It was blatant flirtation now and you shook your head a little, chuckling quietly. His confidence was growing daily.

“Come on, we should be exploring this place.” You moved past him.

He was quick to pull the hood of your cloak down again, you turned on your heels to glare at him for it.

“Don’t you dare hide from me.” he chided. “Nor from the world’s light. I will not allow it. You do not return to the shadows they caged you in.”

Out of pure spite you put the hood back on again. “I am not hiding.”

By the time you had turned, he was behind you, arms wrapped around your form to keep you in place.

“You cannot claim to be cold near such a fire.” He tugged the hood down again, slowly this time. “This castle is where our clan began, if there is anywhere in this world where we can be our truest selves, it is here.”

You let him free you from the coverage of the hood, his fingers curled around your throat softly.

His voice was breathy and warmer. “There you are.”

You tilted your head, feeling him brush his nose just below your jaw. He was intoxicating, as if the magic still ran through him and heightened every feeling that he stirred in you.

He released you from his hold, touching your lower back. “Come. Let us not give the Green Knight a reason to reprimand us.”

And just like that, he started walking, as if he had not just caused your legs to tremble.

Now that all the torches were aflame, and with the sun coming in through the windows, it wasn’t needed to carry a torch to light the way. Together you explored the place, marveling at it’s appearance. The sun bathed the halls in it’s light, enhancing the beauty that had been hidden by vines. Every room was inspected and there were many.

“Do you think this place has a cellar?” you wondered out loud.

He clicked his tongue. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

Like two children excited to explore a new place, you wandered through the halls. He opened the door of a room that was filled with old furniture, while on the other side you opened a door to a large room with all sorts of weapons hanging on hooks on the walls.

“Uh… Lancelot?”

He peeked into the room, flashing a smile. “Good find.”

Another door not much further seemed to be blocked and you put your shoulder against it, trying to push it open. Lancelot watched you try for a bit.

The staring got on your nerves. “Aren’t you going to help?”

He had been waiting for a reaction from your side. “Not if you cannot ask politely.”

You saw the grin on his face and proceeded to fully ignore him while trying to get that door open. He was stepping closer, you could hear it and you heard that click of his tongue.

“You stubborn woman…” He put his shoulder against the door too.

Still, the door budged very little even if you pushed together. It got quite comical after a while.

A whine slipped out of you, “Gods! Why won’t it open?!”

“It will open.” He kept trying. “Push harder.”

“I’m pushing as hard as I can!”

“Are you?”

He got a playful smack to his shoulder for that jest. What you didn’t expect was the tap he gave to your rear in return.

He answered that surprised look he was given. “Consider it motivation.”

You turned to him a little more, hands still pushing the door. “You-”

All of a sudden the door went open, the hinges did not make a single sound to warn you of it. Neither you or Lancelot had expected it to be a door that opened to a descending staircase of stone steps. You only realized that when you were too late to stop pushing and the door opened inward, sending you to fall down into the dark staircase.

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[popcornforone]

Extra Kick

Day five of the Seasons of Life Drabbles Challenge

A Marcus Pike Fan Fic

MASTERLIST

Day 5 gives us a prompt of Hot Chocolate. You could see this as a continuation from the Diary from last year, or as a one off. But don’t worry our Marcus is getting the world.

Synopsis:- Marcus finally lets you in on the families secret recipe.

Word Count:- 390

No real warnings, but there is a pregnancy.

Thanks for the read as always peoples & obviously @fanfictionoverload @berryispunk @lady-bess for the challenge

He’s gate kept it for years pretending it’s something special. But you finally have got it out of him.

His Great Grandmas Hot Chocolate recipe & method.

He sighed when he gave in but you pulled the ultimate card on him.

“I’m carrying your child Marcus” you giggled as you entered the kitchen. “They will need to know how to make this the way all Pikes have done in the past”

He agreed. You giggled as he produced a little note book which contained a few other recipes but the most thumbed page. Hot chocolate.

Ingredients

* 250ml milk of your choice

* 1 tbsp cocoa powder

* 1-2 tbsp soft light brown sugar

* 25g dark or plain chocolate finely chopped, plus a grating to serve

* 1 tbsp whipped or squirty cream

Method

Step 1
Heat the milk, cocoa, sugar and chocolate in a small pan over a medium heat until steaming and the chocolate has melted. Whisk to dissolve the cocoa.
Step 2
Pour into a mug, then add the cream to float on top. Grate over a little more chocolate to serve


“Is that it?” You exclaim “the only difference is brown sugar to what I do, I was expecting something more crazy”

“Well that’s it darling, now come watch me make it”

You stand there rubbing your little bump, watching Marcus double up the recipe so you can both have a decent serving. The smell making your mouth salivate. Even the baby can smell it. You feel it kick for the first time & you gasp, grabbing onto the counter in shock & joy. Marcus is automatically in panic mode with anything new in your pregnancy.

“Baby what’s wrong” he says turning the stove off incase something is wrong.

“Marcus, put your hand here” he does & a few moments later he feels the kick. His eyes filling with tears straight away.

“Oh my god”

“It feels so weird”

“I bet” it kicks again.

“I think it knows daddy is making hot chocolate”

“Maybe it does” he then returns to making it. Wiping his eyes, pride swelling his heart. It’s not long before you are both sipping on it in the kitchen.

“Delicious as always Marcus” you say, some cream on your nose. He kisses it. He likes you being cute & clumsy.

“Like you baby”

[sinnabee]

You do moons ass Mondays right

so do suns ass Sundays

your wish is my command, anon

everyone say hello to sun ass sunday. but of course, as the rule goes... suns out? guns out. >:3c

i will be barring the castle doors and fortifying my defenses in preparation for the uprising, but no, i am not sorry for this

[that-butch-archivist]

At last, I achieve victory .... the almighty Book Wall. Unfortunately I'm still gonna need another bookshelf. You know how it is.

[arthur-lesters-pinky-finger]

Finally got to listen to the new episode! I don't have too much to say about this episode other than the fact that I have this weird little soft spot for the trope where characters are drunk/affected in some way and they're just sad. Like, my man was high on fairy mushrooms for 2 minutes and immediately sobbed about his parents and I love it because his mask falls off, and he doesn't even realize it.

Arthur is the hopeful one, he trusts in fate, in his humanity. He follows whatever path brings him to the light. He follows the light his daughter brought him, because being a father brought him that joy and hope and he's always dipping in that supply of brightness she brought him.

But he's also carrying this heavy shit with him, and yes he talks about it, but he's never really let on how much it affects him now, other than the poem he wrote about his parents, which he told John in Larson's mansion. He doesn't hide it, but it feels like he's sort of pushing it down, focusing on whatever good he can find (John, Oscar, Faroe) to ignore the deep dark hope his parents left.

And what's the one other time we saw him drunk? What's the first thing he asks Yellow when he's drunk in that bar? To read him a story. God I love Arthur so much- the second he can't control his thoughts, they all come flooding in and it's like he cannot stop himself from thinking of his parents anymore. He cannot stop himself from feeling, from realizing all the things he doesn't let himself think about.

I love Arthur<3