#i fully blame the tree limbs they took forever

[kingofsummer93]

Sunny one so true, I love you

This is part 2 of an Elucien fic for the acotar writing circle organized by @azrielshadowssing.

Part 1 was written by the lovely @fieldofdaisiies. Check out the masterlist to read the other fics, and to read part 3, which will be posted on April 23rd by a different author.

Elain raced all the way from the bus stop to her apartment building, holding her thin cardigan over her head as a measly barrier against the sudden downpour. With each step she became more and more drenched- her flats were immediately soaked, the cold rain seeping through her makeshift umbrella to chill her directly to the bone. The song she’d had stuck in her head all day played on an endless loop inside her head, as if mocking her current predicament.

The dark days are gone

And the bright days are here

The world’s idea of a cruel joke.

It was her fault, really, for going to class in such a summery outfit without checking the forecast. The weather was unpredictable at this time of year- it could feel like summer in the morning and winter by night. If she hadn’t wanted to look cute for a certain someone and had actually bothered with season-appropriate clothing then she wouldn’t be in this mess.

Even the memory of his eyes on her as he checked her out that morning wasn’t enough to keep her from regretting the flirty sleeveless green dress. If she ended up getting pneumonia it would be his fault.

The thought made her grumble as she finally arrived at her building, struggling to open the heavy door while also holding her cardigan overhead and juggling her books and purse. A sudden gust of wind caught in the flowy fabric of her skirt, and she shrieked, almost tumbling to the floor of the lobby as she tried valiantly to cover her exposed ass.

Please, please, please, let the lobby be empty, she prayed to any god who would listen. The last thing she needed was to go down in history as the girl who had mooned one of their elderly neighbors.

Her hair was whipping around her face, her once-smooth curls now a frizzy halo. She was still struggling to wipe her hair out of her eyes and regain her balance when she stumbled head-first into someone.

Or, more specifically, someone’s very hard, very muscled chest. She would have fallen over were it not for the hand that wrapped around her arm, keeping her upright while another hand gently brushed her sodden curls out of her eyes.

Shit.

Elain knew who it was going to be before she even looked up. She’d know that scent anywhere. Spicy, warm, a little bit sweet, and undeniably, dizzyingly male.

Shit.

“You ok there, Sunny?”

Elain shivered at the sound of that voice- deep, rumbling, forever tinged with humor. At least this time she could blame her shiver on the rain and her soaked clothes.

The hand on her arm was warm and steadying, and when he let her go and stepped back she felt its absence like a phantom limb. She smoothed her dress and hair as gracefully as she could, given the fact that she was currently dripping water onto the tiled floor.

When she finally looked up at him she wished she hadn’t. Lucien was grinning at her almost wolfishly, his russet eyes lit up and twinkling like a Christmas tree. Damn it. She’d just given him what was probably enough ammunition for a year’s worth of teasing.

And not only that, but as she fully took him in she found her voice dying in her throat. He’d clearly just come from the gym, and was wearing nothing but a pair of loose shorts, with a soaked t-shirt slung over his shoulder. His golden-brown skin glistened with sweat, and his face and neck were still tinged pink from his workout. Elain’s mind immediately ran away from her, picturing what other activities could leave him looking like this, sweaty and tired and-

Lucien’s grin intensified. Shit. She was staring. Damn him. Damn him and his stupidly beautiful face and dumb, idiotically muscular body.

“I’m fine!” Her voice came out like a breathy squeak. Great. The absolute picture of cool, detached grace.

She didn’t wait to see his inevitable smirk before hurrying towards the elevators and punching the button repeatedly. As if they weren’t headed to the exact same place. As if she could escape him.

She felt more than heard him coming to stand next to her, as if her body was attuned to his presence. Her cheeks were burning so hotly that she was sure they probably matched Lucien’s vibrant hair. If they didn’t live on the seventh floor she would have already bolted for the stairs.

When the elevator finally arrived Lucien followed her inside silently, though she could feel his eyes on her like a brand. The silence stretched on as the old elevator made its clunky way up, until Elain felt like a stretched rubber band about to snap. It was very unlike him to be this quiet, and it unnerved her. No doubt he was silently coming up with the best taunts to torture her with later.

The elevator came to a stop with a ding! and Elain practically ran down the hall towards their apartment. She was still scrambling around in her purse for her keys, trying not to drop her books all over the floor, when the sound of his voice directly behind her made her jump.

“I got it.”

Elain kept her gaze down as she turned, meaning to step out of his way, when she found her path was barred by a strong arm braced against the doorframe. Her breath caught in her throat. Lucien was standing so close that if she leaned forward only a few inches she could have tasted the sweat on his chest. She tried to take a step back, but her back met the cool wood of the front door. Her eyes lifted higher still, as if pulled by a magnet, until she met his gaze.

His eyes were dark, and so intense as he looked at her that she felt herself burn even hotter. His full lips were still twisted in a grin, and when his tongue darted out to wet them Elain’s knees nearly buckled. And then he leaned down, and her heart stopped.

Oh god he was going to kiss her. Right here, right now, against the door, as her soaked dress dripped onto the floor and her teeth chattered with cold.

But then he was reaching into his shoe, and she realized he was simply retrieving his key. She didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved as he slid the key into the lock and turned, pushing open the door slightly.

Elain would have fallen backwards if he hadn’t caught her again, this time with a hand pressed against her lower back. His other arm was still braced against the doorframe, trapping her within a cocoon of his body.

They’d flirted and teased and taunted each other before, but they had never touched like this, and it was intoxicating. She couldn’t move or look away as she watched his eyes rove over her, snagging on her chest. One of the advantages of being small-chested was that she could often forgo a bra, but it also meant that her nipples were currently extremely visible through the soaked, thin fabric of her dress.

Her heart was racing so swiftly she was sure he must be able to hear it. It was an effort to keep her hands at her sides, and not to reach for him. She wasn’t sure whether she’d pull him closer or push him away.

He leaned down again, this time bringing his lips so close to her ears that when he spoke his breath ruffled her hair.

“Nice thong,” he whispered. His voice was raspy and gravelly, and if she hadn’t known better she might have though he sounded slightly breathless.

She barely had a second to register the fact that he had, in fact, seen her bare ass, before he smoothly sidestepped her and disappeared into the apartment, whistling merrily. Her mouth dropped open after his retreating back.

“Excuse me?” she stuttered, kicking the door shut behind her and dumping her books onto the floor.

Lucien grinned over his shoulder as he headed for the kitchen. “I said nice thong,” he repeated, enunciating slowly. “I didn’t know they made dental floss that color.”

Elain didn’t wait for his laughter to start echoing around the kitchen before she ran to the bathroom and slammed the door shut. She sank onto the edge of the tub and buried her face in her hands.

There was no overcoming this embarrassment. The only solution was to move and never see him again. Vassa would be disappointed, but she would understand.

That was when she remembered. Vassa and Jurian had left to spend the weekend at Vassa’s parents’ house. She was alone with Lucien until Sunday night.

Fine. That was fine, she would survive. She would simply stay in her room until Sunday, and wait for Lucien to leave before coming out for meals.

With a resigned sigh she turned the shower on the hottest setting and stepped under the hot blast. When she had finally thawed the chill from her bones she wrapped herself in a thick towel- and then realized that she had not brought any clothes into the bathroom. Damn it. Why had she thought it would be a good idea to move in with boys?

Elain pressed her ear to the door, and bit her lip as she heard Lucien moving around in the kitchen. He was still whistling, and it sounded suspiciously like the song that had played on a loop in her mind all day.

Sunny, yesterday my life was filled with rain

Sunny, you smiled at me and really eased the pain

Damn him. If he wanted to play games, then she could play games, too.

She wrapped the towel tighter around herself, gripping it so tightly her knuckles turned white. Before she could rethink it, she squared her shoulders and strolled out of the bathroom. The whistling stopped the instant she stepped foot into the kitchen.

She could see Lucien sitting on a stool at the kitchen island out of the corner of her eye, but she didn’t dare look at him. His gaze followed her as she walked to the fridge and peered inside, immediately grateful for the rush of cool air against her heated cheeks. She bent over as much as she dared, pretending to inspect the mostly empty fridge.

“I’m going to order pizza,” she declared. “Want some?”

Only then did she finally turn to look at him, and the look on his face had her biting back a laugh. His jaw was hanging clean off its hinges, his eyes wide with surprise. He wasn’t even trying to pretend not to be staring at her. Elain felt a rush of victory. Two could play this game.

When he didn’t answer she cocked her head at him innocently. “Well?” she prompted. “Pizza? Yes, no?”

He seemed to rouse himself then, shaking his head as if he had been in a daze. “Oh, sure, yeah, sounds good. Whatever you want.” With that he jumped up from his seat and disappeared into the bathroom.

---

By the time Lucien came out of the bathroom and walked back into the living room the pizza had been delivered. Elain was lounging on the couch, sipping from a bottle of beer. If the sight of her plush lips wrapping around the neck of the bottle hadn’t been enough to set his blood boiling again, then her outfit certainly would have been. She was wearing a long t-shirt that barely grazed the tops of her thighs, with her legs innocently tucked underneath her.

Either she had no idea the effect she had on him, or she was actively trying to kill him.

For some reason he was pretty sure it was the latter, and that drove him even more crazy. Maybe she’d finally decided he’d gone too far with his teasing. Either way, he wasn’t about to complain.

She smirked at him as she unfurled her legs from underneath her and reached for a slice of pizza. “That was a spectacularly long shower. I’m shocked you didn’t run out of hot water.”

The way she was grinning made him think that she knew precisely what he’d been doing in there. Ironically, with the image of her bare ass in that scrap of pink lace fresh in his mind, it had taken a spectacularly short amount of time before he’d been spilling himself all over his hand.

“Maybe if you join me next time we can save some water.”

Elain choked on her pizza, guzzling down her beer to stop the coughing.

“What?” Lucien asked innocently. “Don’t you care about the earth, Sunny?”

She rolled her eyes at him, though not before her cheeks turned the most exquisite shade of pink. He’d never tire of that blush. It was almost the same shade as that lace he’d spied nestled in between her perfectly pert-

Stop it. Don’t be a pervert.

“Eat your pizza,” she scolded him. “And stop calling me that.”

“Hmm. Maybe I should call you Thunder instead.” The look she gave him was so unimpressed that he couldn’t hold back his laugh. “Thunder it is.”

“Don’t you own any shirts?” Elain asked suddenly, her eyes fixed on his bare chest.

Lucien threw her another grin. The sweatpants and no shirt route never failed. “Don’t you own any pants?”

She shrugged, biting her lip to keep from smiling. What he wouldn’t give for that to be his lip between her teeth.

“Maybe we need to take fashion advice from each other,” she quipped back.

An image slid into his mind- Elain, in his bed, wearing nothing but one of his t-shirts. Or better yet, nothing at all.

Hands off, Vassa had warned him. Elain Archeron is a nice girl and if you hurt her feelings I will gut you.

He could admit that maybe the threat had not been unjustified, given his less-than-innocent track record with women. Still, he was starting to suspect that she might not be as much of a good girl as she pretended to be.

Oh, how he’d love to find out.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked, tossing his crust back in the box.

Elain raised an eyebrow at him, as if to say When have I ever been able to stop you?

“Why did you date that guy?”

He’d been wondering that since the first time he met Elain, back when she was Vassa’s very unattainable, very not single friend. Finding out that she had a boyfriend had been a blow, but finding out that she had been dating a dweeb like Nolan…

Elain picked at the label on her bottle absently. He half expected her to glare at him, or throw some retort back in his face, but to his surprise she just shrugged. “Honestly? He was a nice guy. Well, at first, anyway,” she added with a dry laugh. “He paid attention to me. He was one of the few guys I knew who was interested in more than just hooking up.”

“Seems like a weak reason to date someone.”

This time she did glare at him. “Says the guy who’s never had a real girlfriend.”

Lucien clapped a hand to his chest in mock hurt. “Don’t spare my feelings there, Thunder.”

The jab still stung, however much he pretended like it didn’t. He wasn’t the guy that girls dated. He was the distraction after guys like Graysen broke their hearts, and it had always been just fine by him.

Except when it came to Elain.

“You know what I’ve always wondered?” Lucien mused out loud.

Elain shook her head with a small smile. “I’m scared to know.”

“Why is it that girls in books and movies always like bad boys?”

Elain snorted, and then threw her head back and laughed. It was the most glorious sound he’d ever heard, and he felt his lips spread into a silly grin.

“That’s because they’re fictional characters and don’t have actual brains,” she replied, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes.

Lucien pouted, turning on the couch so he could face her fully. “And where does that leave us real-life bad boys?”

Elain laughed again, though with less conviction than before. Their gazes caught and held, and he noted with some satisfaction that she seemed to be having some difficulty breathing.

“See, I have a feeling you like to think you’re bad, but I’m not sure if you actually are.”

“Oh?”

A shrug. “Do bad boys make girls pancakes and fruit salad unprompted?”

“Would you like to find out?”

Dangerous. This was dangerous territory. Vassa would absolutely flay him alive, but he couldn’t help it, not when she looked at him like that…

Elain scoffed, tucking and untucking her legs. Lucien forced himself to keep his gaze on her face and not on the expanse of bare thigh inches away from him. “If you have something to ask, you can just ask, you know.”

Right. Because a proper gentleman would ask her on a date first.

Fuck it.

This would either end very badly or very well, but before he could talk himself out of it he grabbed one of bare ankles and yanked. She let out a high pitch squeak as she landed flat on her back on the couch.

Lucien leaned forward and hovered over her until their lips were inches apart. It would be so easy to just lean down a little further and finally taste those lips he’d been fantasizing about for so long.

Her chest was rising and falling heavily, her eyes wide and dilated. He braced a hand next to her head and leaned further still, until her breath tickled his lips.

“I’m asking,” he murmured, “if you’d like to find out whether I’m a nice guy or not.”

He waited for the eye roll, or the scoff, or the hand pushing him off her. He waited for his idiotic hopes to come crashing down around him, for the bitter disappointment to fester in his heart.

But instead- a quirk of the lips, a low, throaty laugh that had him instantly hard.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

[jojen-hewitt]

My @aftgexchange gift for @sapphicrenee !!

You had so many great prompts, but I chose some winter fluff of a midnight walk through the park. Plus a very tiny bonus Renison heart on the tree. ;D

Hope you like it! Have a very Happy Holiday! :D

[jetaime-jespere]

Under The Weather

Some pointless fluff that's been floating around my head for a few days. Also on ao3 🙂

It’s not the usual alarm clock that wakes her this time - the tauntingly peaceful melody that she now associates with being ousted from a dream every morning.

In fact, Emily is hardly awake. Her eyes are still sealed shut, she’s still nestled under the covers because the thought of moving is almost unbearable. Even in her sleep induced haze, the only thing she’s fully aware of is just how shitty she feels, like every part of her body has somehow teamed up against her in unison. What started last night as a subtle headache is now accompanied by a persistent rawness in the back of her throat. The same pain has crept in to settle behind her eyes, and now radiates around her head, like a pair of gnarled hands wrapped and clenched around her brain. But that isn’t the only thing - everything just hurts. Her limbs feel like lead, her throat is now on fire, lips cracked and chapped from the winter air. Her mouth is dry as dust as she grapples for the glass of water Aaron had left on her nightstand hours ago - something he’s done since they moved in together.

Cracking one eye open takes monumentally more effort than it should. The wind rattles against the windows, whistling through the bitterly cold February morning and Emily groans at the prospect of even moving from the safety of their warm bed. A glance at the clock tells her it’s 5:40. Aaron’s side is empty, the sheets cooled, but she can hear the steady pulse of the shower, see the steam curling out from under the door. The cloying pull of sleep is too consuming, the glass of water all but forgotten as Emily groans. The notion of having to get up in less than a half an hour is making her stomach roil in protest.

Instead, she burrows herself deeper into the blankets, wishing somehow this day would somehow restart itself. Her eyelids are too heavy to stay open, even though the looming reality of her alarm hovers over her, along with the daunting challenge of making it through the day. Emily remembers the stack of unfinished case reports left on her desk from yesterday, abandoned in the wake of remembering Ava’s ballet class just a few minutes too late to be early for once. That’s about the time the headache started, subtle enough to temporarily ignore as their daughter happily chattered away in the backseat, little legs kicking against the leather upholstered seat - a story about unicorns and fairies, one Emily could probably retell herself she’s heard it so many times. If only she knew then.

The next thing she’s aware of is Aaron bending down to kiss her awake, fresh from the shower and half dressed in an undershirt, his skin still damp as he murmurs good morning . The whiff of eucalyptus soap and his mouthwash only makes her dizzy as she all but pushes her husband away from her with an ill attempted protest against his affection. “Five more minutes,” she croaks. “S’tired.”

“Sweetheart?” Aaron questions even though he doesn’t have to. He’s no stranger to her indifference to early mornings, the way her arms wind around his neck to pull him close most days when he wakes her with the same kisses, the same sweet nothings in her ear. On the rare occasion when they have more time, he ends up back in bed with her, making the most of a few precious moments. Those mornings are his favorites - the ones where he gets to press her into the mattress, get her leg over his shoulder, seal his mouth against hers to muffle the moans he hasn’t grown tired of hearing even years after he first heard them. But this is different. He figures it out immediately, knuckles brushing against her flaming cheek, skin clammy under his touch.

“Hmmph?” Emily shrugs out from under his touch, the cool hand on her burning forehead a reminder of just how awful she feels. “Five more minutes and I’ll get up.”

Aaron laughs softly, already reaching for his phone on the dresser. “Not a chance.”

“I’ll be fine in a half hour.” It’s a futile attempt; Aaron knows her better than she knows herself by now. Emily doesn’t get sick often, maybe once every few years. But when she does, it hits hard and fast, rendering her inherently useless for a day or two, and they’re all a little thrown off kilter without her. Even though her eyes are closed she can practically see him making arrangements - school dropoff and pickup, soccer practice for Jack, ice skating lessons for Ava. It’s also a Wednesday, the one day a week he spends mostly in meetings as unit chief. It’s the day she picks up more slack around the house, handles the after school activities in addition to her own professional responsibilities. It’s a routine they’ve perfected through trial and error over time.

“You weren’t yourself last night,” he sinks down beside her, his weight dipping the mattress down as he pushes some hair from her face. “You barely touched your dinner. You fell asleep with the light on,” he adds pointedly, pressing his lips to his wife’s forehead for confirmation. “And you definitely have a fever.”

“Do not,” she argues. It’s becoming harder and harder to challenge him, a battle she knows she’ll ultimately lose. There’s no way he’ll let her out the door let alone into the BAU at this point. Despite the sweat that trickles down her back, her teeth chatter together.

Aaron wraps her into his arms, aware of how she melds against his chest as she seeks the warm comfort of his body. “Do too.” His tone is light, which only manages to frustrate her more. “And you’re staying home today. Don’t even try to argue with me.”

Emily attempts to pull away from his embrace. “I have a meeting too, you know. Jack has practice and Ava -”

“Has ice skating. I know, Sweetheart.” Aaron gently pushes her back down, tucking the blankets around her. “I know their schedule. And yours. We’ll manage.” But he’s already reaching for his phone, dialing a number he knows by heart.

“Who are you calling?” She asks weakly, succumbing to his insistence. The sky has lightened to a shade of dark blue instead of inky black, the first traces of the winter morning starting to peek through the curtains.

“I’m texting Garcia. If she can take Ava this afternoon, I can get Jack to soccer after my last meeting.”

Emily grumbles while he taps out a message as she runs through her day ahead. There are her own meetings, of course, a slew of chores around the house waiting when she gets home, all the little things that accumulate during the week without fail, over and over. Aaron can almost read her mind as he gets dressed, disappearing into the depths of their closet to pluck a suit from the rack on his side. “Things won’t implode without you, Em. We can survive one day.”

From her place in bed, Emily watches him dress, securing the sleeves of his dress shirt, the jacket stretching across his broad shoulders over the crisp fabric of his shirt. Some days, she can’t believe they’ve come this far. Seven years of marriage has brought its fair share of ups and downs, most recently an ill-timed miscarriage in the days before Christmas. She hadn’t been too far along - ten weeks - but December 23rd was spent at her doctor, Aaron’s hand wrapped around hers as the news was broken, their eyes glued to the ultrasound screen. They hadn’t been trying at all. It was a surprise neither of them expected, which only seemed to worsen the blow when it abruptly ended. Emily had been the picture of composed, smiling through her grief on Christmas Eve, distracted by Ava and Jack’s excitement, the endless mountain of gifts to smuggle from their closet under the tree, only to spend the early hours of Christmas morning crying in his arms until he rocked her to sleep. She closes her eyes, wills herself not to think of it. It’s still a little too soon.

When he’s fully dressed, traces of cologne lingering in the air, Aaron gathers a box of tissues and fills a glass of water, setting both down next to Emily. “I’ll bring you some toast before I leave. You need to eat something.”

“You need to wake -”

“I’m already -”

“Mommy?” The voice outside the door tells them at least one more Hotchner is already awake. Aaron drops a quick kiss on Emily’s head, frowning when he notes how warm she is. He makes a mental note to bring some ibuprofen with the toast and opens the door just a crack to find their daughter on the other side, fully dressed, not a hair out of place.

“Where’s Mommy?” He’s met with the round, concerned eyes that belong to Ava. Even at six, she could be Emily’s clone, with sleek dark locks and the same pale skin. Ava is precocious, sharp as a tack yet sensitive, hesitant to trust but loyal to a fault. Her arrival in the world had been dramatic, at one point downright terrifying for a few minutes, shoulder dystocia to blame. Aaron had turned ghostly pale as the doctors rattled off medical jargon he’d only ever seen dramatized on primetime television. Yet it was that same efficiency and urgency that ultimately brought their daughter safely into the world a short time later. The moment she was placed in his hands, Aaron was completely smitten, his world forever changed.

“Mommy isn’t feeling well, Ava.” Aaron explains with an abundance of patience, his tone soft and reassuring. In the days after Christmas, following the miscarriage, Ava had been confused when Aaron took Emily’s usual place at the new, massive dollhouse from Santa, doing his best to display the same enthusiasm his wife so effortlessly showed. He’d uttered the same words - Mommy isn't feeling well - when she protested, complaining about his doll handling skills and seeming inability to make their hair look half as good as Emily did. Even though his placations  held an entirely different meaning then, Ava questioned him relentlessly. Telling a version of the truth had been harder than he anticipated, for more reasons that one.

“Is Mommy okay?” Ava asks, persistent as ever.

“She’s fine, honey. Just the flu. Remember when you had it in Kindergarten? You got to stay home while Jack went to school. Mommy and I took turns staying home with you? You got to eat popsicles in bed and watch TV during the day?”

Ava nods, not fully convinced as she tries to poke her head further into their bedroom. “I guess.”

“That’s what Mommy has, honey. Grown-ups get sick too. So Daddy is going to drive you to school. Aunt Penelope is going to take you to ice skating lessons this afternoon.”

Ava squeals with delight at the mention of Garcia, clapping her tiny hands together, only to have the expression melt off her face seconds later. Then she frowns. “But Daddy,” she whispers slowly, her resemblance to Emily and similar mannerisms uncanny, as if profiling him even at the tender age of six. “You don’t know the Good Morning song.”

Aaron checks his watch and pinches the bridge of his nose as he peers into the hallway. Jack’s bedroom door is still firmly closed, indicating his son is most likely still sound asleep. Waking him is the next battle, one of his least favorite tasks as of late. “What song, Ava?” He sighs, not missing the fleeting touch of amusement that crosses Emily’s face from across the room, the softest of laughs. Even in her current state, pale and tired, clearly more than under the weather, Aaron thinks she’s stunning.

“Mommy and I always sing the Good Morning song on the way to school.” Ava folds her arms across her chest, tapping her foot against the floor. “If you don’t know the words -” Her dark eyes double in size, widening impossibly as she stubs her toe with disappointment. “How can you drive me to school?”

“Honey -”

“Mommy knows all the words.”

“Ava - “

“Daddy.” She challenges, sticking her lower lip out in a whiny pout. Aaron knows what’s ahead. Even though Ava has him completely wrapped around her tiny finger, their daughter absolutely adores her mother, never missing an opportunity to steal a few quiet moments together. He often finds Ava curled in Emily’s lap, listening to a story, or playing dress up with some of Emily’s old clothes. Aaron has caught a few misplaced tubes of lipstick hidden in her dress-up box, ones Emily thought she lost long ago. He’s seen the pictures she draws, the way Ava always draws Emily next to her in each one. It tugs on every single one of his heartstrings, every single time.

“Mommy will teach me,” he assures her, crouching down to her level, bringing her to lean on his knee. “Daddy will do his best to know all the words before I take you to school.” He ruffles Ava’s hair as she beams, seemingly appeased by his effort. “Can you be my special helper this morning and wake Jack for me?”

Her face brightens instantly, a mischievous grin spreading across her face at the thought of what she’s being asked to do - something that, most of the time, she’s actively told not to do. “Okay!”

Aaron grimaces slightly as Ava skips off down the hall. There’s a finite window of time until he’s left to deal with Jack’s morning moodiness, exacerbated by his sister’s surprise wakeup call. But it’s worth the few extra minutes he’ll get to spend with his wife. Emily is now fully awake, looking even more miserable than she had moments before.

“You’re on your own for the good morning song,” she rasps sarcastically. Her voice is hoarse, even as she tries to smile. “Couldn’t sing it for you if I tried.”

“I think I’m going to take her for donuts. Those strawberry frosted ones she loves?” He slips back in bed beside Emily, pulling her into his arms once again. “Distraction at its finest.”

“The ones I love,” Emily reminds him, swiping her thumb across his cheek. “Good luck.”

“Right. Hopefully she’ll forget all about it.” Then he remembers just who he’s talking about - a miniature version of the woman he somehow got lucky enough to call his wife, instantly realizing how wrong he is. He’s a goner; he won’t hear the end of this for days.

“I doubt it. But you can give it a try.” Emily snuggles into his chest, savoring their final few minutes of peace.

…

Winter sun streams through the windows, casting the bedroom in a mix of shadows and blinding light.

She isn’t sure how much time has passed - an hour could easily be three, maybe five. Sleep has consumed her, on and off all morning. Yet she’s uncomfortable, alternating between throwing the covers off and disappearing into them, unable to seek enough warmth as she reaches for one more blanket. Everything still hurts, and topped off by a congestion that settles deep in her lungs, rattles her chest with every cough. She almost feels worse now than she did earlier, if that’s even possible.

The house is quiet, so she hears the subtle rumbling of the garage opening, the soft creak of the door leading into the house. Emily smiles to herself - she’d recognize his footsteps anywhere as he makes his way through the living room. He’s undoubtedly picking up wayward shoes and toys along the way, most likely grumbling about the clutter. He’d never admit it (even if she knows it to be true) but it’s one of his favorite tasks. The mess is a reminder of what they’ve built over time, that sometimes things work out just as they were meant to. Even if it means their house will never be spotless.

She pries one eye open as he shoulders through the bedroom door, slipping his suit jacket off to drape over a chair. “You could have stayed at work.” Emily isn’t surprised at all. She knows him sell enough by now.

“I know.” And while Aaron is fully aware of that, there was never a chance he wasn’t going to come home to tend to her. He stayed at the BAU long enough to get things squared away, arranging plans for the kids, and delegating tasks as needed before making a hasty exit. And now, only a few hours later, he’s back. He checks her forehead, refreshes the glass of water on the nightstand and tosses some tissues into the trash. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.” Emily shifts to make room beside her. “Worse than before, if that’s possible.” She sighs a little when he wraps her into his embrace. Her head falls against his chest on its own accord. “Ava and Jack?”

“Garcia is taking Ava to ice skating. She’s taking her out for ice cream afterward.” He gets a hand in her hair, rocks her back and forth a little bit until she relaxes fully against him. Almost.

“What about dinner?” Emily mumbles, stifling a cough into her fist. It rattles within her chest, reverberating through her ribs. “She needs real dinner, Aaron.”

“I think she’ll live without vegetables for one night, Emily.”

She’s too tired to argue. “Jack?”

“Dave offered to take him to soccer,” Aaron says, patting her back through the last of the coughing fit and grappling for the water glass on the table. “It’s all taken care of.” His hands are soothing, gentle and strong against the sore, stiff muscles. “You sound terrible.”

Emily pointedly ignores him. “What about you?”

“I cleared my schedule for the rest of the day. Tomorrow too,” he adds with a wink, taking her hands in his own when she starts to object. “I’m making it my mission to get you better.” He shows her the package of popsicles he’d stopped for on the way home, tosses the bag away to the floor. “And I got some of these. Just for you.”

The soft laughter that comes from her is accompanied by yet another hacking cough. It’s the little things he does that are the most thoughtful - a pit stop to the grocery store in the middle of a work day is just one example. “Sounds like you have quite the job ahead of you.” But she’s eyeing the popsicles - it’s the first thing that’s sounded appealing all morning.

“You’re not an easy patient,” Aaron chides as he hands her a cherry flavored one, taking a lemon flavored for himself. “One of the worst I’ve ever dealt with, actually.” He flicks her nose lovingly.

“Is that so?” The cool chill of the frozen ice against her lips and throat is a temporary relief, a moment of reprieve. She doesn’t even notice when a little piece of it breaks off to leave a tiny red stain on the sheets. “You’re no picnic yourself, you know.”

It’s his turn to laugh, because she’s right. He’s just as stubborn, the art of rest and healing lost on them both. “I feel called out.”

“It’s because I’m right,” she quips. And she is.

Emily sleeps fitfully in his arms, only waking up once as the sun sets over the trees in the distance. When her eyes drift open, he has the television remote in one hand, the other anchoring her across his chest. “What time is it?” She mumbles, blinking furiously as her eyes adjust to the dim light.

“Close to five.” He kisses her, rocks her a little to wake her up. “You’ve been sleeping for hours.” Aaron sounds almost pleased that she finally got some solid rest. “I’m going to make you some soup. And don’t tell me I don’t have to.” He untangles himself from her, somehow without disturbing her comfort within their bed. “I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

His fingers brush across her cheek; she’s not as hot to the touch this time. Emily leans into his hand, curling her fingers around his wrist.

“Thank you for coming home.” She hardly sounds any better, certainly doesn’t feel it either. But having him there somehow makes it slightly more bearable, an unexpected silver lining to all of this. And the reverence in his eyes, the same one she sees every time he looks at her, confirms the fact that he’d do it without question. Another example of the unconditional love he’d promised years before when they exchanged vows in Dave’s backyard.

“There’s nowhere else I should be, Sweetheart.”

Four days later, Aaron wakes up with the same aching muscles and raw throat, barely able to keep his eyes open as a new week awaits them. Emily is only more than happy to return his favor.

[sunnymoon-sunshine]

“Bluefur, what do you need?” She had cornered him during the gathering. A risky move on her part, certainly - but there were no eyes on them. And no ThunderClan cat would question her right now. With a bitter laugh that tasted like bile on her tongue, she thought it so fitting - her clan finally allows her to grieve all she wants, and yet it’s the one time she couldn’t.

She can’t.

“Oakheart, I need to speak with you.”

They met two nights later, at the spot where everything fell apart. It had felt so, so good, while the world collapsed around their paws, and they stayed blissfully unawares of the path that had opened up before them. A trail of thorns, of shadows, of the blood that dripped from her still beating heart that thudded painfully, reminding her that, despite everything, she was still alive.

He craned his head towards her, concerned. Everyone else would have kept their distance from her, but not Oakheart. Never Oakheart. He challenged her at every step, and she loved that. Despite everything, she still found herself caught by amber eyes that held so much sarcasm, worry, bravery - a true warrior, in every sense of the word, she thought.

“Bluefur, what is it?”

The words felt like brambles knotted in her throat. Bluefur hadn’t had to say the words to anyone in ThunderClan, for most had heard from word of mouth. She didn’t want to say it, either. It made the reality all more real. “I lost Mosskit.” She blurted out, feeling the world sway as it hit all over again.

And he was there in an instant, shoulder to shoulder with her, keeping her propped up. She could see the grief in his eyes, too - how strange, she thought, was it to see a father mouth a kit he never met, but was so real, so very real. “I’m so sorry, Bluefur.”

“It’s my fault.” She rasped, “I couldn’t provide enough milk. We’re starving, Oakheart. Mosskit is dead, and it’s my fault.”

The warmth of his nose, his breath ruffling her ear fur - it quelled her wailing before it began. And in that smooth, horrible RiverClan-like voice, he murmured, “It wasn’t your fault, Bluefur. Blame the season, not yourself.”

And then, “But I’m sorry... to hear that. Mosskit was.. very young.”

She twisted her head to bury her face against his neck fur. “You can grieve. Mosskit was yours, too.”

They sat in silence for long enough to let the moon kiss the treetops on its descent. And then Oakheart shifted in the snow, waking freezing limbs up, and turned his head to peer at her again.

“But that isn’t it, is it?” He correctly guessed, because he was infuriatingly good at reading her. Or at the very least, a very lucky guesser.

“It’s not,” She admitted, “But.. you may not like it.” And then, honestly, “And your opinion of me may diminish. But I have to ask.”

He leveled his gaze with her again. Serious, trustworthy, a cat who loved her very much. Sturdy as an oak. Bluefur could trust him with this.

“I need you to take the kits to RiverClan.”

Whatever he had expected, it wasn’t that. He took a step back in shock, and then leaned his head toward her, ears tilted forward. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

“I’m telling you exactly what I want from you.” She corrected him, trying to keep her fur smooth, her heart calm, but the emotions were whirling like the river after a thaw. “I need you to take the kits. They’ll starve in ThunderClan, just like.. just like Mosskit.”

Oakheart was a smart cat. He knew her well, even if he didn’t know everything about her. And he seemed to be mulling it over, trying to find the clarity among the thick of confusion. “You’re going to give up your kits?”

“Yes.” Bluefur knew how much of a horrible mother she sounded. “RiverClan never goes hungry during the harsh months.”

“You could always come with them,” Oakheart suggested, and she knew that was coming. “Come with them, live in RiverClan with them. Crookedstar would understand.” The words remained unspoken, but she heard them in her ears, loud and clear: We could be a family. You could be happy.

But it was never that easy.

“I can’t.” It hurt, it hurt so much. The thought of having to bury her own kit, of her other kits being whisked across the river - and Oakheart, in the present, looking more thoroughly wounded than if she had struck him across the face with her claws.

“Why can’t you?” He demanded, and it wasn’t harsh, but certainly confused. And she could hardly blame him.

“Thistleclaw.” She answered, bluntly.

His demeanor changed in an instant, because he knew Thistleclaw from both reputation and from Bluefur, spilling her worries into the river with him. He wasn’t a popular cat among RiverClan cats, she knew. His ears flicked back, his eyes narrowing to slits, he asked, “What did that battle-hungry idiot do now?”

“Tawnyspots is ill. He has to step down,” Bluefur explained, “You know as well as I do who will be in line to be deputy when he does.” Her limbs stiff from standing in place so long, she began to pace the fourtrees. She was slightly pleased when Oakheart followed suit, pacing with her, shoulder to shoulder. They fought to be equals, and he was always determined to treat her as such.

At least he didn’t seem too angry with her. Yet, at least.

“You’re worried Thistleclaw will become deputy?”

She heaved a tired sigh. “I’m afraid it will be the inevitable. Thistleclaw has been always been a potential deputy. I just never thought it would be so soon.”

“I always thought it would be you, personally.” Oakheart drawled, and when she shot him a look, he defended himself with, “You and I both know you would make a sharp deputy. Why, I’d call you terribly adept at issuing orders. We’ll have to quake in our claws when you’re leader.”

“Stop fooling.” She said, but it was impossible to hold back the shake of her whiskers. Deputy, becoming deputy - it was something she always wanted, but it seemed like a dream long lost at this point. “Thistleclaw will become deputy, especially with me being ThunderClan’s mourning mother.”

It was easy to joke with Oakheart. She never joked at home, in ThunderClan, and yet the claws squeezing her heart eased when she walked with the witty, confident deputy of RiverClan. She so wished she could follow this path into RiverClan.

But then she would be the outsider, the affair, the mother of Oakheart’s kits.

And the threat of Thistleclaw would always stare at her across the border. He would wage war against them, she knew. A bloodbath for Sunningrocks was exactly what he wanted, whether he got the swath of land or not.

Her kits would always be in danger. She had to protect them at any cost. Even if it meant that they would never know - that she was their mother, and that she was trying to protect them from across the river.

When they parted that night, it was with a plan. She would bring the kits to the river, Oakheart would take them to RiverClan, claiming them as kits he found. And Bluefur would lie to her clanmates, tell them the kits died in the night and were buried with Mosskit. He asked her over and over again whether she was sure, whether she wanted to risk keeping them through leafbare, or even come to RiverClan to join them all.

But her mind was made up.

“I guess this is goodbye?” He asked, as the dawn threatened the night sky. Their time together was up.

“We’ll see each other one more time.” But she knew what he meant. It wouldn’t be the same. It would never be the same. After a pause, she reached forward to press her nose to his, taking in that fishy RiverClan scent, that bright clever tom. One last time, before they were no longer lovers, but enemies once more.

“I love you.” His words were like newleaf in bloom, like fully flourished trees after a long, cruel season.

“I love you, too.” She murmured back, trying to fit as much into her words as he always did into his. He had always been better at talking, and she felt clunky in comparison, like everything she said was stiff and unfeeling -

And then he shoved his head against hers, in a fit of affection, and she stopped worrying for another few heartbeats.

Things would change forever, Bluefur thought, making the long trek home to where her kits were likely waiting for her, craving warmth and milk she didn’t have. But they would soon have full bellies, a warm den to settle in, and a father who would dote on them endlessly. She knew better than to think Oakheart would be anything less than an infinitely loving father, just like he was a mate. A stubborn, charismatic, smooth-talker of a mate.

Oakheart had asked what she needed, and she spoke truthfully.

But if he had asked what she wanted, she would have simply replied with,

“To have a family, and be happy.”

Bluefur would have to settle for neither.

[ashleyswrittenwords]

How to be a Queen [Part 15]

Summary: Princess Zelda is at a loss. Her handed royal responsibilities have begun to weigh heavily on her and she is eventually backed into a corner. Live a life she loathes or run away from everything she’s ever known? Navigating life is hard, and Link forces her to learn that she doesn’t have to do it alone.

Warning: It gets a little steamy.

Previous

Next

Part 1

How To Be A Queen

It was warmer than any night before. The Gerudo border was just over the ridge, but now my mind wasn’t on the destination. I looked accusingly from the upside of my hand to the bottle of Gerudo liquor before me. It wasn’t as if we had emptied it, there was still half of the poison left. But goddesses, it felt better to blame it on alcohol.

I drew my knees to my chest, feeling a void within me widen. What exactly was there to blame? Link had long left me and had stepped into the woods without a word. It was just a kiss. A small, drawn out peck on my hand. The same action was taken by countless men. Princes, kings, and dukes. I had seen them all do the similar gesture, so why was this any different? Link didn’t have any of those titles, but none of those men had that damned languished smile he seemed to love using on me.

Why was there a heat that lingered around me that couldn’t quite go away? Maybe if I’m lucky I’ll burn right threw the ground and be taken elsewhere. My fingers wrung themselves raw and I stifled a groan. This was too much. Way too much. I pulled my eyes from the ground and my heart raced as I drug myself to my feet. My vision went awry with how fast I stood.

We had firewood. The whole reason we decided to set up camp here was because there was a dead tree that had fallen not far away. The last thing we needed was more firewood. The impatience I inherited from my father boiled over and I pushed passed the horse, the fire, and abundance of wood beside it with fists clenching and releasing repeatedly. I was positive I looked outlandish. We had been on the road for days, but even that didn’t stop me from following him through the brush.

I was fuming at nothing in particular. It was the situation that I couldn’t make anything of. The romance novels never prepared me for this monotony; the feelings and the uncertainty. Din, I’m scared of something I can’t even touch. My face twisted as I pushed down a wave of tears. I was in desperate need of answers.

Air evacuated my lungs as I ran into them.

Link turned around with bewilderment on his face and my storm of anger dissolved. The pounding of my heart filled my ears as we stood silently with each other at arm’s length. Moonlight casted shadows on his face making it difficult to meet his eyes. I mustered the remnants of my anger but came up short of what to say.

“I…” Link trailed off, his voice weak from the beginning. He finally let himself slip. His brow furrowed in frustration. Link wasn’t the one to let his thoughts be read, that I knew from a year’s worth of experience. It never mattered how hard I stared at his stone face within those castle walls, he never did break. Not until now with the deepening crease on his forehead. I found myself wanting to ease his distress.

“Link,” I reached for his hand. He stiffened and my limb dropped coldly to my side. My lips lacked purchase of the words I wanted to say. The words ‘Why did you leave me?’ replayed over in my mind, but his unsteady stature stopped me.

Embarrassment and doubt crept in on me slowly and I drew into myself. The pit of my stomach flipped and I felt the emptiness once more. It was deafening, pushing reason and caution behind me. The urge to close the gap strengthened its hold. The material of his tunic was rough on my hands and the heat radiated promises of what was beneath. His acknowledgment was found in the returned embrace as his arms wrapped around me tightly. The prior feeling ebbed into the back of my mind and for this moment I felt relief.

Link nuzzled into my hair and breathed me in just as I had him. The warmth and scent of the coat I had slept with at Anju’s house was found once more, making a part of me want to delve deeper into my desires.

“Don’t ever leave me again,” I said against him. The words were muffled and potentially incoherent.

His head dipped past my crown and the heat of his breath hit my ear, stopping short of descending farther. “I won’t,” he murmured. Each syllable sent a shiver down my spine as his lips brushed my skin, tightening my hold around him. “Forgive me.”

The knight’s mouth was warm as he trailed from behind my ear and to my jaw, leaving soft kisses to mark his path. My breath ran shallow and thin by the time he had traced the curves of my neck and back, leaving me sensitive with anticipation. One hand dipped to my waist and the other met the back of my neck. His callous fingers gently intertwined with my hair.

I whispered his name, pulling away slightly and meeting his eyes. Link’s breaths were short and forced, as if he were trying to hold his breath. The blue of his eyes was murky, and his expression filled with the same wanting I sorely needed. I watched him closely as I rose to the tops of my feet and pressed my lips to his. The arms around me pulled my body flush to his. I was quick to deepen the kiss by tilting my head to the side. My heart pounded in my chest so loudly I was sure he would hear it.

Link was a mixture of caution and haste. When I moved to thread my fingers in his hair, he did the same with unprecedented need. When I pressed my lips harder to his, it was like he was waiting to nibble at my bottom lip. He was waiting for small signs while I was all too eager to give them.

The man that held me in a kiss was everything I had ever needed.

He pulled away suddenly, leaving me gasping. The blond of Link’s hair mixed with mine once our foreheads touched and his breath fanned over me.

“Zelda,” he said, husky from the lack of air.

I hummed in response, drunk from his touch.

Link spoke again, “I-We can’t.” I stared up at him. Our bodies were still close, pushed against each other as if there wasn’t any other alternative. “Why not?” I breathed out, watching as his gaze flickered from my eyes and then to my lips.

He didn’t reply, but hesitation crossed his face.

“For the love of Hylia,” I swore, hoping to drag him from whatever he was thinking. “Would you just forget about our titles and pretend that I was a normal woman and you were a normal man?”

I bit my lip, watching him search my face. Link dipped down, capturing my lips in a soft, but desperate kiss. “I don’t want this to last for just tonight,” he said against my mouth. “I want it to last longer.”

“How long?” I gasped against him as he bit at the tender skin below my jaw. Once he was satisfied with the air he stole from my lungs he released, “As long as you’ll allow.”

“And if that’s just tonight?” My words were wobbling, and my cheeks flushed as he fully took me in. Link scrutinized me for a long moment before devolving into a tender gaze, “I’ll love you for every second and hope to remember tonight for the rest of my life.”

In a milky haze he had lifted me up and began carrying me. His hands supporting my bottom and my arms wrapped around his neck. The redness of my cheeks blossoming at his heat. He was reacting just as torridly, and the affirmation sent me into a bout of bliss.

The path led us back passed the wood pile, the ebbing fire, and the sleeping horse. My back hit the soft blanket that was laid out earlier and Link disappeared from view.

“Don’t worry,” he said quietly in response to my alert gaze following him. “The fire.” A log was tossed and a flurry of embers danced in the air, then Link was back. He hovered over me shortly before giving a short kiss to my already swollen lips.

“What if I want it to last more than tonight?” I said, barely above a whisper. Intrigue danced in his eyes.

“How long?”

The corners of my mouth tipped upward, “As long as you’ll allow it.”

Link’s smile bubbled and he cradled my face in his hands, “It seems that we’ve come to an impasse.”

“An impasse, indeed.”

I pulled him down by his collar, smothering out whatever he had to say with my lips. Link was happy to oblige. His fingers found the hem of my shirt and as his hand touched above my bare hip, I sucked in a breath of air at the unfamiliarity of his contact. I gasped his name and his attention was immediate.

“If we have forever, do you suppose we could… wait,” I voiced hesitantly. His eyes widened and he pulled his hand away as if touching a burning stove.

“Gods, of course. I’m sorry,” he blurted out frantically.

I sat up to meet him, grabbing his hands to meet my waist entirely to feel him closer. “This is all… very new to me,” I smiled shyly. The fire burning within me said that I wanted everything. To feel every inch of his skin against mine and let him touch me. It was almost primal, and for whatever reason it instilled apprehension. My brain didn’t want my rationale to slip away. I wanted to be in control while at the same time wanting nothing but him.

Clearly seeing the tug-of-war occurring in my mind, Link grasped my hands tightly in his. The grin on his face wasn’t anything I had seen before, if anything reminiscent of that night at his aunt’s house. He had decided he didn’t have to hold anything back anymore and the idea made me melt into his arms.

“You think too much,” he said into my hair. I could hear his smile.

“So do you,” I laughed, happy to merely be. Be at this place at this time and with him. Link spoke slow and steady, while I reveled in his warmth.  

“There’s never an obligation to do anything. At least,” he sounded closer, “not when it comes to you and me.”

Then, we were laying down. I didn’t bother releasing him and felt his breathing underneath me. It felt more intimate than anything else that had occurred. “No expectations for me?” I jested. “Not even one?”

“Well,” Link sighed, “Maybe a couple. They’re quite difficult. Are you sure you want to hear them?”

I moved my face up to meet his inquisitively. “Yes?”

My heart fluttered as that smile returned, meeting his eyes. “You should always be you to me. Doesn’t matter who we meet or where we go. I want you.”

“I think I can make that arrangement,” I said, my beaming hurting my cheeks. “Any other requests?”

“Laugh at all my jokes, even if no one else does,” Link rested his hands on my back.

My head disappeared into the crook of his neck, my breath tickling him. “That will be tough.”

“I told you they were difficult!”

And as he laughed, I knew I was absolutely smitten with Link Forester. 

[atishanabelas]

STORY TIME DUDES

This is a story that almost wrote itself and is demanding to be shared. I hope anyone who decides to read this enjoys it. Also the grammar is probably not the best, don’t at me lol.

In the beginning, there was nothing. A void, a blank emptiness. But to leave it empty would be boring, and so, in the darkness a new life came to be. Humans would call this being a god. It was no god, but a goddess. A child. About four or five in human years for reference. She was whimsical, curious, and full of love. Anything she wanted she made, simply by making a wish so strong and true that it came to be. Green grass to feel beneath her feet as she ran. Flowers and trees to sway gently in the light breeze that ruffled her hair playfully. Animals to sing, run, fly, and swim with.

Eventually she grew lonely. She wanted another being like her to be with, like the animals had their families and friends. So she took a piece of herself and made a friend, modeled after the sly, cunning fox. Someone to play tricks and pranks on her, but all in good fun. He was a child along with her, both taking many shapes and playing for many, many years. In time, the fox-child became a man, while she remained a child. And she called him Daddy.

For a time, Daddy was content to be alone with her. Deceive her to help her be unafraid and reply to her questions with more questions to help her find her own answers. But he noticed how the birds had another, a mate, someone to be with forever. And though he loved his little goddess, his little princess, he wanted his own love. He asked her for a woman of his own, someone to love and hold, and give the same in return. She didn’t even hesitate to say yes, immediately taking another piece of herself and making him a partner. This woman she modeled after the wise, all-seeing owl. Someone to watch over her with gentle eyes and be stern to teach manners, but always kind. She called her Mama and for more time, there were just the three of them, exploring more of what the princess had made.

When a man loves a woman, however, they want to do more than just hold. They want to hear their love gasp and moan sweetly, please them and give pleasure, a more physical testament to their love. While the princess knew that, she had no one to play with while they were busy, so she took another piece of herself and created a Big Brother. He was modeled after the strong, protective bear. Someone strong and quiet to remind her to slow down and savor the silence.

She explored woods and marshes with him always by her side while Mama and Daddy had gone to do things she never questioned. It was because she made them with a piece of herself that she could feel them always, knowing in her heart that they were content. And if she ever missed them, she could simply reach out in her head to hear them comfort her with their words. Sometimes while running and climbing in the woods, she would fall and scrape her knee. Though she felt no pain, she would still cry. Simply for the attention of her Big Brother, who would always smile softly and heal the scrape, kissing the spot better.

She grew slowly and though many millenia had passed, she seemed no older than eight or nine. And Big Brother was much too quiet sometimes, so she took another piece of herself and made a Big Sister. She was modeled after the clever, quirky cat. Someone to lounge in the bright sun with and play rough, to teach her when you hurt another, even by accident, to apologize, so that way the fun can continue later. More years passed and she grew more, to what looked like eleven or twelve.

Again, she took a piece of herself and created another Big Brother. He was modeled after the brazen, ambitious goat. Someone who was power-incarnate but taught her that power had to be tempered with patience. They played war for many years. People would be distraught to think of the things they did to each other. They tore off each other's limbs, stabbed and maimed, but even pain was an experience the little princess was willing to have. To her, the wounds and torture didn’t hurt at all, because she knew it wasn’t out of maliciousness, and in that case, it was all good fun.

But by the time the play-war was over and she was with her family in a beautiful palace next to the sea, she still felt she was missing something. At this time, she was fourteen or fifteen in human years, and she started to long for her own partner. This stumped the goddess, not knowing how to make herself a perfect mate. So she went to her Daddy, who was the oldest and asked how to make herself a man. He smiled his sly grin, the one that always told her he knew something she didn’t, and asked why she always asked questions to things she knew.

And oh, was she frustrated at her Daddy! Never one with a straight-forward answer, so she pouted and went to the veranda to gaze at the stars and moon. She stared at them for a long while, but eventually her Daddy’s words made sense (as they always came to do). To make her a perfect man, she split herself in two. Right down the middle.

He was perfect, because he was part of her, and she of him. She spent much time in the palace with her love and family, betrothed. But in all her years, she had never really learned patience. Desperately, she wanted to be fully-grown so she could finally marry her love. Without telling him, she spoke to her brother, the Goat, raw power defined.

He made her a bargain. He told her that she would be sent to the world of mortals. She would know suffering, hunger, and thirst. She would encounter others scared of the light she held who would kill her for it at best and at worst, torture and maim. That she would be told to hide her light and herself because they would be afraid of it. She agreed to the deal, but there was one detail he didn’t tell her. That she would forget. She would forget her real name, her family, and most importantly, she would forget her soulmate.

If she had taken a moment to really look, she would have seen the sadness in her Big Brother’s eyes. He knew that though her mind would forget, her heart and soul would not. He knew that in time, she would curse his name and being. That she would know he did this to her, but not remember the why.

And so she ran away in the middle of a moonless night, the best type of night for the beginning of a journey, and was reborn amongst the mortals. She lived through many lifetimes, doing what she does best, trying to leave it a better place each time. The mortals cast their stones, burned her, tortured her, killed her in so many various ways. But even then she was never angry at them. She died over and over for them because even though many scorned her as she was there and as she is above, she loved them still.

Another detail her Big Brother did not tell her was that her love would come to look for her. When it was time, when she was almost ready, he too would be born amongst the mortals. And so it was, seeing each other in dreams. Unfortunately, her time amongst the humans had hurt her deeply by the time he was sent. Men scared her. And she had forgotten her love, so when she felt him looking, she was terrified. She ran from him. Never settling in one place too long, for though she couldn’t remember why, she knew that he would always be able to find her. She’d cover her scent by hanging around ugly people, ugly in the soul.

She ran and ran and ran while he chased and chased and chased. It became an awful cycle. He couldn’t find her and all he knew was that she was hurt. She was scared. And all he wanted was to comfort her. To hold her. To make her feel safe again. He blamed the humans. The mortals, those who hurt her. Made her cry. So slowly, oh so slowly, he became monstrous in his fury. The humans who hurt his love and made her weep deserved pain. Deserved death.

So every place he searched he would destroy. Everyone who hurt her, he would kill. And she would weep even more because she didn’t know why the world was hurting. The humans would curse her name, even though she loved them so dearly. And she too, fell into despair. She began to isolate, to lie and deceive but for her own benefit. Slowly, oh so slowly, she became a monster in her own right. But for her, someone who was meant to love, meant to nurture, with a deep capacity for it, had a deep capacity for hate. She had become resentful. The humans, which everything she ever did and made was for them, scorned her. And she was tired of running away and she was tired of giving and giving and never receiving.

When she began to destroy, she reveled in it. She wanted to share how deeply she was hurt and showed it in many, terrible ways. If she was suffering, she wanted the entire world to suffer more. It was then, when she had stopped running and began chasing back, that her love found her. And for a moment, they lost themselves in each other. They were so hungry for each other that they didn’t care about how rough their love-making was, how deep the bites and scratches were. They needed to take and take and take.

Finally, the goddess, now a woman, asked for help. A simple request to the Universe to help her because though she and her love had found one another, she was not happy. She wasn’t herself and that’s the worst feeling anyone can ever have. With that, her Daddy and Mama, Brothers and Sister all came to help. They had been watching the entire time. Even though there were many lives where the goddess had felt so, so alone, she never was.

Slowly, they helped her remember them. Helped her remember her love. And, most importantly, helped her remember herself. Helped her realize that all of this pain, the chasing, the running, was necessary for her to grow. The story of this goddess isn’t quite finished yet, but it has a happy ending.

One day, with her love by her side, as he was meant to be, they will return to where it all began and where it all ends. The truth is, though many disregard it, is that nothing is coincidence. Nothing happens without a reason. You might not see it at that moment, maybe not even in the same lifetime it happens, but it happened for a reason. Without pain, without suffering, we would not grow. True growth happens in adversity.

This story has no villains. There is no one to blame for anything. They all played their part in a bigger picture, one that we’re not meant to see.

If I could ask one thing you do take from this, it’s that you shouldn’t be ashamed of your mistakes. I don’t know what they are, but you can change yourself if you don’t like yourself. No matter what you’ve done, you can always come back. You can be better, as long as you put in the effort. And though we are all flawed, that’s okay. We were made to be. And we are all loved, regardless.

[wasabi-cupcakes]

A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes (Namjoon x Reader)

Rating: General

Warnings: none

Categories: Pure Fluff/Romance/Slight Comedy

Summary: You started singing at the park to relive stress, you never thought anyone would hear you! And never in a million years did you think they would think you sounded good, comparing you to a princess even! But now here you were, having made a tradition out of coming to the park to sing for your tiny fanbase. You thought the children would be the only ones to hear you now, certainly no more listeners? Definitely no one attractive and your age. No way.

A/n: This work is apart of my princess series, each fic being based off of a Disney princess song~ 

1 | 2 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | Epilogue  

“Did you dream about your prince again?” Mijin’s voice brought you out of your thoughts. You were becoming increasingly more distracted as the week went on, but that wasn’t entirely your fault. You had a couple of…encounters to blame for that; you had boys on the mind… which was never a healthy thing. Hoseok could just pop in your life again at any moment, and Taehyung had actually texted you last night! However, you were a little too flabbergasted to actually respond. You knew you couldn’t leave him hanging forever though; you were never one to “play games” anyhow. You sighed and brought your full attention to Mijin.

“What was that sweetheart?”

“I said, ‘Did you dream about your prince again?’ I can tell your thinking about something!” Mijin was always pretty observant; only seven years old and she could read you like a book. 

You did a quick survey of the “crowd”; it was much smaller than usual today, which is why you decided to sit in a new spot today, just to try it out. You had led the children to a cute bench you had been eyeing for a while that was situated directly under two cherry blossom trees at the end of a small hill. It was just past the lake, and impossible to miss if anyone was headed to the butterfly garden…not like you were hoping to be found by anyone. Behind the hill sat the long stretch of trees that divided the park, making this area more secluded than the lake, but not quite as secluded as the butterfly garden (you didn’t have to draw anyone a map to get here!).

“No, I didn’t dream about that last night!” You waved your hands in front of your face, hoping to ease the embarrassment caused by being caught thinking about your “princes.”

“But you did dream about something right? Can you tell us?” Kinam spoke up and the others huddled closer for “story time.” 

It’s true, you did dream last night, but your dream was far more embarrassing than just dreaming about a silly prince! You had seen yourself standing on an immaculate stage, lights flashing from all directions as the crowd roared in delight. Donned head to toe in expensive jewelry and clothes, and a mic placed in front of you, you put on the performance of a lifetime. But that was just a dream; that wasn’t you. 

You were never one for large crowds and having all the attention on you, no matter how many times you wished you had to confidence to endure it. Perhaps that was the only reason you had never perused a music career; well that, and you were sure your singing was just okay, never to the standards it would have to be to be a professional. With these thoughts in mind, the last thing you wanted to do was tell the children what you dreamt of.

“Well yes, I did have a dream, but… I can’t tell you what it was about.” The children looked at you in confusion, before Jihae and Mijin yelled out at the same time.

“What?! Why not?” Jihae adding a pout for extra measure. You giggled in response, quickly coming up with an excuse.

“Cause if you tell a wish, it won’t come true!”

“A wish?”

“Yes, because a dream is...” suddenly you thought of a perfect way to distract the children from inquiring about your dream, “hold on, I have the perfect song for this~” Immediately all of the children’s faces lit up in excitement and you were glad that you had recently learned this song in Korean.

Namjoon had been coming to this park for years, even back during his trainee days. He didn’t get to visit it as often anymore because of how popular BTS had gotten, though he supposed that shouldn’t be any reason to complain. He loved how tucked away it was from society; usually in most parks, you would never be able to find a quiet area to read, write, or even put your thoughts together. But here there were so many places to choose from. His favorite spot, however, was in between the trees that separated the “adult” part of the park from the “children’s” part of the park. Particularly, the trees on the top of the hill, where he could get a good look at the lake and the cherry blossom trees below, was his absolute favorite. 

Finally having a break from touring and working on new material, he got a chance to visit his beloved park. Bringing with him a good book and a notepad (you never know when inspiration strikes), he headed to his usual area, the high sun in the sky reminding him it was only the early afternoon.

Hopefully I’ll be able to finish this book today then.

Namjoon settled in, resting his back on the trunk of his favorite tree, and crossed his legs, setting his book in his lap and adjusting his glasses before diving into the piece of literature. He didn’t know how much time had passed before he started to hear voices at the bottom of the hill. Too engrossed in his book however, he decided to ignore them and keep on reading, hoping he would not be disturbed. Eventually the voices became white noise, and Namjoon could ignore them completely, that is, until he heard…

“A dream is a wish your heart makes,”

Is that singing? 

Namjoon sharply looked up from his book, utterly snubbing what used to be so important just to find the source of the voice.

“When you’re fast asleep.” He looked all around him, before coming to the conclusion that the singing must have been coming from the bottom of the hill, since that’s where the voices were before.

But those where children’s voices…this singing definitely sounds more…mature and…beautiful

“In dreams you will loose your heartache,”

He stood up and craned his neck around the tree, making eyes at the hill below. He was surprised to see a group of children surrounding the cherry blossoms, and at the center, underneath them, sat a beautiful young woman. 

“Whatever you wish for, you keep.”

He could only see her profile through the blossoms and branches, and he found himself inching closer and straining to get a better view.

“Have faith in your dreams and someday, Your rainbow will come smiling through.” 

Namjoon’s mouth was fixated in permanent shock at the sound of this woman’s beautiful voice. He found her presence almost ethereal, like she was some sort of spirit or forest nymph not meant for human eyes.

“No matter how your heart is grieving, If you keep on believing,”

With every word the woman sang, a smile danced across her lips and Namjoon could practically feel the joy radiating off of her face.

“The dream that you wish will come true~”

He watched as she suddenly got up from the bench, still singing the tune of the song, albeit more fast-paced and with various “oohs,” “ahhs,” and “buh-dums.” The woman grabbed a few of the children’s hands, skipping about to the tune and twirling in circles. He could tell that the children liked it immensely, dancing along with the woman and laughing. Namjoon couldn’t stop his own face from brightening at the sight, his smile creeping up on him before he knew it. The young woman stopped dancing, and Namjoon watched as she took a deep breath, no doubt to start another line.

“No matter how your heart is grieving,” Namjoon was surprised to hear this line in English, the children seeming to mimic his emotion by the looks on their faces and in the way they stopped dancing, as if they were trying to keep all of their focus on the young lady in front of them.

“If you keep on believing,

The dream that you wish will come true~” The woman’s face broke out in a wide smile as the children around her cheered, some clapping while she took mock bows in appreciation. Namjoon couldn’t stop smiling as he leaned closer and closer, still gripping the tree, before… he slipped.

Shit

You were busy laughing with the children after your little “performance,” when suddenly you heard various faint groans and cries of pain coming from behind you. You saw the children’s eyes practically pop out of their sockets as they all pointed behind you towards the hill.

“N-Noona! There’s a man!”

“He’s falling!”

“He’s rolling down the hill!” Their panicked shouts faces caused you great alarm, and you hoped as you turned around, that they were just playing a silly game of “made you look.”

None such luck.

There, rolling down the hill, was what you could only assume was a fully-grown man, though the flailing mass of limbs made it hard to decipher any human form.

“Oh my god!” You instantly made your way over to the rolling boy as he finally came to a stop at the bottom of the hill. “Sir, are you alright?!” Concern flooded throughout your body, only dissipating slightly when the man finally propped himself up to smile awkwardly at you, his glasses sitting crooked on his face. He was dusted head to toe in various grass and dirt stains, some of the grass even still sticking out of his hair. You almost laughed. Almost. You reached your hand out for him to take.

“I’m, uh, I’m alright.” He gave you another sheepish smile, gladly taking your hand as you helped him up off the ground. He comically brushed himself off and adjusted his glasses back to the proper place on his face. This time you couldn’t hold back your laughter as you struggled to get your words out.

“A-Are you sure?” You managed, your giggles causing you to stutter.

“Ah, don’t worry about me, I fall all the time.”

“That just makes me worry more!” You were looking him over for any injuries when suddenly it hit you.

Oh my god this guy is handsome too, how does this keep happening to me?!?

He caught you staring and he bashfully turned his face away, scratching the back of his head as an embarrassed smile made it’s way to his face, highlighting his gorgeous dimples and…

OH MY GOD, STOP STARRING AT HIM!

“S-Sorry, I was just trying to make sure you weren’t hurt…” This time you were embarrassed, looking at your feet in shame, hoping he didn’t see through your lie.

“What, you don’t trust me or something?” Your eyes snapped back up to his, a blush still evident on your cheeks.

“Oh no! I just—“ You buried your face in your hands and grunted in despair while rolling boy just laughed at your embarrassment.

Ass…

What you didn’t know though, was that he was only laughing because he found you just so god damn adorable. You looked up at him from your hands, eyebrows furrowed with a small pout on your face.

Could she get any cuter?

“Sorry for teasing you~” Rolling boy made a slight bow of his head. “My name is Kim Namjoon, but I’m fine with just Namjoon…or Joonie~” He subtly raised his eyebrows at you and you chuckled in response.

“Nice to meet you Namjoon,” you smirked when you saw his face fall faintly at the sound of his name and not his nickname. “My name is (L/n) (Y/n), but I suppose you can call me (Y/n)~” you teased.

“I suppose I will, (Y/n).” Your name sounded like honey rolling off of his tongue, your knees almost buckling to his voice. In that moment, you abruptly became aware that the two of you had been speaking English the entire time.

“Your English is very good!” He smiled wide again, the cocky look from his last comment disappearing.

“Ah, thank you! Your Korean is very good, I heard you singing from up there,” he pointed behind himself to the stretch of trees at the top of the hill. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I heard you while I was reading—“

“Oh I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to distract you!”

“Don’t apologize, I’d gladly be distracted by your singing any day! God, it was just—has anyone ever told you you sound like an angel?” You looked at him wide-eyed, heat rising rapidly to your face; you were sure if you had a mirror, you’d find a tomato staring right back at you.

“N-No…” You gripped the hem of your blouse, suddenly finding the delicate stitching so interesting.

“Well, they should…” Namjoon trailed off, trying to find something else to say to you, anything to keep you here with him a while longer. He cleared his throat awkwardly, “So, uh, you’re not from Korea right?”

“N-no,” your voice sounding very small, even to you, “I moved here a few months ago on a work visa.”

“Oh?”

“But I want—“ Your eyes roamed up to his own, suddenly forgetting your words as your nervousness took ahold of you again. “But I want,” you started again, “I want to get citizenship eventually. I do love it here, I’ve always had an affinity for Korean culture.” Namjoon smiled smugly, like he knew something you didn’t.

“Oh well then you must love K-pop right?” Your face lit up, finally finding a topic you weren’t embarrassed to talk about.

“Of course! It’s actually one of the tools I used to help me learn the language! That and K-Dramas.” You looked to the side and nervously laughed, realizing that you probably sounded like a koreabo.

“That’s really cool! I actually learned English with a lot of help from American television, like the show Friends—“

“I love that show!” Another topic you weren’t embarrassed to talk about. 

“It’s so great right?” Namjoon looked like a kid on Christmas, his eyes aglow, and you were sure you looked the same. “Favorite character on one, two, three!” 

“Monica!”

“Chandler!”

The two of you looked at each other in shock for a moment, both giving a look that screamed, “No way!”, pointing to each other in amusement before you both burst into uncontrollable laughter. You held onto your sides as you finally settled down, Namjoon wiping the tears from his eyes. When the air was finally settled, Namjoon looked back to you, his face still proudly displaying a gorgeous smile.

And dimples…WHAT?! CHILL INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS!

“Since you like K-pop, do you know B—“ Suddenly a sharp ringing cut through Namjoon’s words, making him stop and furrow his brows, reaching for his phone in the front pocket of his cardigan. Once he read the contact on the screen, he smiled apologetically at you before quickly answering. You tried not to pry into his conversation, but you couldn’t help but pick up a few words like “dorm”, “now”, and “busy” before you saw Namjoon sigh and reluctantly agree to whatever demands the other person on the line was making. He hung up with a forlorn look on his face, slowly turning back to you before smiling melancholically.

“I have to go,” he gestured to his phone, giving you a peek into the previous conversation. “But, is it alright…if I see you again? Like would that be okay? You can say no if you w—“ You cut him off, laughing at his nervous rambling.

“Namjoon I’d love to see you again!” You watched as his face practically burned in front of you.

“R-Really?”

“Really.” You smiled at his dumfounded look.

“Then could I…could I text your number from my phone?” He awkwardly looked to the side, unsure of how you would answer.

“Yeah, of course! It’s…” You told him your number, watching as he excitedly typed it into his phone, smiling to himself at whatever he must have texted you.

“So um, I guess I’ll see you around hopefully?”

“Yes, hopefully you will~” You two smiled once more at each other before he finally started to stalk off in the direction he fell. You in turn started to head back to the children when his voice suddenly caught you by surprise.

“Bye (Y/n)!” You turned to see him now on top of the hill, book under his arm as he enthusiastically waved at you, a dopey smile on his face. You mirrored his actions, smiling yourself as you waved back to him.

“Bye Joonie!” You watched as his face lit up even more at the nickname before turned around and disappearing into the trees. You were still smiling when you finally found your way back to the children, all of them wearing the exact same face: one eyebrow up and a suspicious smirk.

“What?” You looked anywhere but their faces, knowing exactly what was on their mind before Mijin suddenly spoke up.

“How does this keep happening to you? Are you an actual princess noona? You’d tell us if you were right??” You just laughed and shook your head, just as confused and delighted by this week’s occurrences yourself.

Namjoon’s Text:

From Unknown: Hey Monica, it’s Chandler ;)

A/N: I know Namjoon sees himself as Monica, but like I was just tryna make a cute story thing~ FORGIVE ME!

[anythingfanfiction]

Ben Solo, the One and Only

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

WARNING: The second and third paragraphs may be a bit too graphic. ¶ 2 describes the remains of Vincent + Cecilia’s bodies after a fire while ¶ 3 explains how the accident happened. Also, smut towards the end marked with stars (***) as always! If you’re not comfortable with that, please skip these paragraphs and continue reading.

Chapter 6

On a casual trip to Viktas, it would take Ben anywhere between one and a half or two hours; but, given the circumstance, it took him only 45 minutes. When he made it to her apartment, Ben witnessed Vivian strewn across the tile floor with bloodied hands beside a shattered plant vase. She looked up at him and sobbed even harder. He leaned towards her figure to slowly lift her off the ground and set her down on a seat in the dining room. Ben did not speak as he tended to her cuts. He did not speak when he brought her to the bedroom, laid her onto the bed and changed her clothes. No, he did not speak or weep at the sad state his beloved was in. All Ben did was hold her, listen to her miserable cries until she ran out of tears and fell asleep in his arms.

The next day, Vivian accepted the invitation to see the bodies. It was awful. While their limbs and entire body were still technically intact, each person had an overwhelming amount of burns. Cecilia’s hands, lower arms, chest, and midsection had lost all of its outer skin. The ends of her once golden hair were now burnt to a crisp and covered in ash. Laying on the table next to Cecilia, Vincent held a much better anterior appearance. Like her, his face featured a variety of different cuts, scrapes, and burns, but the rest of his front looked almost fine. His backside, yet, was not as picturesque. A grotesque image of nonexistence, burnt flesh that oozed cruel torture to anyone’s eyes. It looked so painful. Vivian saw that even the back of his head was scorched off, hairless with fragile tissue barely maintaining its membrane-like hold.  

The only explanation to their injuries came from what little video the technicians were able to recover, Cecilia had held the explosive vial after its contents began emitting an unusual smoke in another lab member’s desk. The chemical erupted in her hands and she screamed in agony, dropping the substance and shattering its container. All hell broke loose as the room started to catch fire and the chemical began a cycle of explosions. In the final bursting stage, Vincent embraced Cecilia in a futile attempt to shield her from their inevitable fiery doom.

A total of seven workers were trapped in the lab, all of which now rested in their respective metal examining table. Vivian took note of the medical team’s useless endeavor to save her brother and his newlywed wife, I could’ve done better, I could’ve saved him. She also couldn’t help but scoff at their excuses: 

Had there not been so many others injured...

Had it not been a chemical fire...

Had she not been holding the vial...

Had his head not catch fire...

Had there been more time... 

Knowing Vivian, Ben was not surprised when she insisted that the burial was to be strictly private. It took place underneath a secluded willow tree where the two, along with Cecilia's parents, sat in a line with their legs crossed facing two parallel tombstones. Ben noticed that she was holding back tears and reached out to hold her hand. Eventually, the coffins were embedded in the ground, each person taking turns in shoveling dirt until both caskets were fully submerged.

Ben, however, did not expect Vivian to accept the lab company’s offer to include Vincent in a memorial to honor the seven employees that died in the accident. The ceremony was held outside of the lab’s facilities. Hundreds of people had come. Friends and family of each victim, as well as corporate figures, made up the crowd surrounding the building. Admiral speeches were given by the lab’s directors and many people were satisfied by the respect for the victims. It seemed as if it encouraged everyone to share condolences. By the fifth, “I’m sorry for your loss,” Vivian couldn’t take it anymore and headed back to the apartment with Ben.

The two now sat together in her plush white couch in silence. She did not cry, nor did she feel angry or sad. She just wished things were different. Ben wasn’t sure if it was the Force or if he just knew Vivian that well, but he could tell what she was feeling. 

“Vivian, there’s something I want to ask of you. It’s a little out there but please, just hear me out,” he started.

“I want you to come live with me, live with me and my family on the base,” Ben moved to the floor, trying to scope out her reaction, only to see her bewilderment, “I know it’s way too soon and you that love living on Viktas. I know that what I’m asking of you puts you in the middle of another war and-”

“Yes,” It was an impulsive answer, she didn’t even let him argue why he thought she should leave with him, “I’ll go with you. Not right now though, I need some time.”

“Of course. I’ll wait for forever if need be.” Ben smiled and leaned up to kiss her forehead. He would get to see her whenever he pleased. Spending hours apart was so much better than days. “I’ll talk to my parents about it. We can get larger living quarters and you can work in the med bay.”

He was clearly rushing things but Vivian couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. There was nothing much for her on Viktas, the chance to start anew was quite appealing. Besides, she wouldn’t be alone, she’d have Ben by her side.

When the time came that Vivian decided that she was ready to move on and move in with Ben, it took them nearly 2 weeks to get everything sorted out. All the furniture was sold and all her personal items were packed. Her collection of plants were thoughtfully gifted to neighbors and coworkers, but she did keep a few favorite flowers to take with her. They gave one final visit to Vincent and Cecilia’s graves with a promise to visit sometime. Their time was up on Viktas, the only thing left to do now, was leave.

On the Millennium Falcon, Vivian was jittery with excitement. It was her first time flying, it would also be the first time meeting Ben’s parents. She wondered what they would be like and if they would like her. 

Ben sensed her unease and tried to lighten the mood, “My mom’s pretty excited to meet you; she even got upset with me when I told her we’d need another week to finish packing.”

“Oh?” she gave him a teasing stare, “Well maybe, we would’ve finished sooner had it not been for someone getting distracted every time I bent over to pick up something!”

“How can you blame me! You were wearing the most irresistible short shorts in the galaxy! And when it wasn't the shorts, you’d wear that tiny skirt and you know I’m a sucker for those legs,” to prove his point, Ben rested his hand over her thigh  Besides, you can’t tell me that you didn’t love the attention.”

“You’re right, I did love it,” she giggled and kissed his nose.

He loved seeing her smile, he loved her. They were getting closer to the base and Ben figured it was a now or never moment. Better to prepare her now than everything being thrown at her there.

“Alright, so before we get there, there’s some stuff I need you to know. Starting off with who I really am. Vivian, my full name is Benjamin Organa-Solo.”

At first, she couldn’t help but laugh. Yet when she caught sight of his earnest expression, her own faltered, “You’re serious? So you mean to tell me that your mom is-”

“Former Princess Leia Organa.”

“And your dad is-”

“Former smuggler Han Solo. Yep. And get this, my uncle is Luke Skywalker. His training camp that I left, it was for Jedi training.”

 Vivian remained frozen and astonished to this revelation.

“Do you still love me?”

“Of course I still love you! I wouldn’t have agreed to come with you if I didn’t love you. It’s just,” she paused, “a lot to take in. Do you know how hard it’s going to be for me to impress your parents?”

He let out a relieved sigh, “My parents are going to love you, it’s hard not to love you. And even if they don’t, I love you.”

She hummed complacently but still seemed jittery, “Wait a sec, you were training to be a Jedi? Can you use the Force?”

“Technically, yes, but it’s been so long and I hardly ever use it. Sometimes, I use the Force without really trying, it just happens.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, let’s just say I know which of my moles and freckles are your favorite.”

“But I’ve never told you-” Vivian paused and made a sudden realization, “You can read my mind?!” she shrieked.

“Yes, but I’d rather call it, ‘hearing your thoughts’. I’m not actively trying to get into your head, you just think so loudly sometimes that it’s as if you were actually talking.”

She brought her hands to the sides of her face as if it’d prevent him from hearing her think, this shit’s crazy! “Will your parents be able to hear my thoughts?”

“My mom might,” he told her, “I think she might be Force sensitive, but she’s never admitted to it and I don’t think she’d try to pursue it. My guess is that, at most, she might only be able to figure out what you feel in a general sense.”

Vivian seemed more relaxed at that. Nevertheless, she struggled to wrap her head around something, Out of all the people in the galaxy, Ben Solo, huh.

Ben simply smiled in remembrance of her brother and like once before, he responded, “The one and only.”

“That’s weird. My parents should be here.” Nightfall was approaching by the time Ben and Vivian arrived at the base. Ben sent out a message that they’d be arriving within ten minutes and his eager mother assured him that she’d be there to greet them.

Vivian wobbled a bit while walking down the ship’s ramp and latched onto Ben’s arm for support, “Sorry, I guess flying got me a bit off balanced.”

“It’ll happen for the first few times. Hold onto me,” Ben lifted her off the ground and sat her down on a metal cargo box, “Wait here while I go find my parents. I’ll be right back,” and with a quick kiss, he sprinted away from the Falcon to start his search.

It didn’t take long after Ben left for another ship to land nearby. A man around Ben’s age came out and caught sight of Vivian. He was tall, tanned, and handsome. Three great reasons to explain his confident swagger as he neared her.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you before. No, I would’ve remembered such a pretty face,” this mystery man in an offensive neon orange jumpsuit reached out to kiss the back of Vivian’s hand.

She quickly took her hand back and scooted back a bit further onto the cargo box. It’s almost flattering but the whole cocky act is only cute when Ben does it, she thought. “I actually just got here with my boyfri-

“You’ve got three seconds to get away from my girl, Dameron, or I’ll make sure you don’t make it back from the next mission.” Ben had returned alone.

Dameron, why does that sound so familiar. Wait... 

Neither of the two men saw it coming. In between his flirty gaze and confusion, a loud, painful smack came across Poe Dameron’s left cheek. It hit him so hard, he stumbled back a few feet, clutching at the newly formed red handprint.

“I am not a whore,” Vivian said calmly and jumped from where she had been seated. She headed back into the Falcon to retrieve an overnight bag she had packed with essentials and a few spare changes of clothes. Ben had the sliest grin on his face before he worked on loading the rest of her belongings onto a cart and leading her to their new living quarters. On the way there, Ben mentioned that his parents didn’t meet with them because of an emergency war meeting.

“Will it be alright? Do you need to go with them?” she worriedly asked him.

“No, it’s nothing they can’t handle or fix overnight. But instead of dinner tonight, we’ll be having breakfast with them tomorrow.”

“Breakfast,” she hummed, “That sounds less...menacing.” 

“You talk as if it’s going to be your last meal. I already told you, my parents are going to love you,” he reassured her just before stopping at a steel gray door, “This is it.”

Their new flat was large but not as big as her old apartment, only one bedroom, a bathroom, a parlor, and a kitchenette. Yet, she thought it was perfect for them, more than she could’ve asked for. As Ben was setting down boxes from the cart Vivian quickly spun, grabbed at his shirt and kissed him. He, of course, happily complied and dropped a box of her clothes from his hands in exchange for wrapping his arms around her waist. They shuffled momentarily but eventually settled on a nearby couch with Ben on top of her.

Before they went any further, Vivian pressed his chest to break apart their kiss, “Are you happy?”

“Very much so,” Ben lifted his hand to the side of her face, “Every now and then, I think it was selfish of me to bring you here, but then you look at me like that and it makes me so happy to think I’ll get to see you every day.”

“I want to make you happier.” ***

“Sweetheart, you’ve-” He was going to argue something along the lines that she’d already made him reach the ultimate levels of happiness; but instead, she pushed him off her body and got on her knees between his legs and at that moment, he knew he was done for.

“Just, bear with me, okay? I’ve never really done this before,” Vivian ran her nimble fingers from his knees to his thighs until she reached his crotch. She slowly made work on unbuttoning and unbuckling his pants before pulling them down along with his underwear. Vivian had undoubtedly seen Ben’s dick plenty of times, but she had never seen it like this. Up close and erect, he looked even more massive than usual. Her eyes hazed as she took note of how riled up he was, his veins bulging and pulsating, begging for her touch.

His arousal motivated her to wrap her fingers around his member and begin to slowly stroke him. It felt strange and a little awkward for her at first, but when she looked at his lust filled eyes and parted lips, it reassured her that she was doing this right. Vivian sped up her pace as she left soft kisses along with one, long lick on the underside of Ben’s cock. He gave a low growl and urged her to go faster but she was enjoying having him writhe too much to give in to his desires.

As Ben was trying to remember how to breathe, she continued to swirl her tongue around him and slowly dragged her nails across his thighs. He became even harder and Vivian took the opportunity to finally take in the tip of his dick and start sucking. Ben’s head lulled back along with a string of curse words, feeling as if he’d come apart then and there.

Although she was trying her best, bobbing her head and trying to get as much of him inside of her, Vivian couldn’t get more than half of his member into her mouth, but she wanted more. So she started sucking and faster, digging her nails into his skin and pushing herself even further.

“If you keep that up, I won’t last much longer,” he gasped and Vivian gladly proceeded with her lewd antics.  

She was determined to fit his entire length inside of her and when she did, Ben’s hips jerked forward and he grabbed a fistful of her hair. He started thrusting himself down her throat, using her mouth as a means to fuck, rendering them both into a mess of moans. It didn’t take much longer for Ben to pant Vivian’s name and reach his peak.

Her eyes fluttered as his hot seed spewed down her throat, but as his fluids were gushing inside of her, it became too much to handle and she let go of his cock with a soft ‘pop' - the remains of his orgasm spilling onto her chest. As he was coming down from his high, she grabbed his hand and ran it across her breasts before bringing it to her lips so that she could suck each cum covered finger.

When she finished, Vivian crawled her way onto Ben’s lap and nuzzled her head on his chest as his heaving died down.

“I think it’s safe to say that you’ve made me much happier,” Ben laughed and kissed her cheek, “It’s only fair I do the same for you.”

At that, Ben carried Vivian from the sofa to their new bed and gave her the same treatment, leaving her to think how the night went on much better than she’d expected.

Breakfast was held in Han and Leia’s dining room. Even Ben was surprised at the array his mother set up. Upon entering, Vivian handed Leia a vase of rare purple flowers she brought from Viktas and explained their meaning.

“They signify dignity and admiration. It’s said that if you prick your finger on one of its thorns and bleed, the flowers will be bound to your lifeline. They won’t need any care so long as you’re still breathing,” she said.

It was a bold, yet kind gesture that gave Leia a clearer sense of this young woman’s personality. She smiled as she accepted the gift, “You look even prettier in person.”

Vivian froze and blushed scarlet at Leia’s silky voice. Not really knowing what to respond in her flustered state, she stumbled out a small “Thank you.”

As they made their way around the table, something caught Vivian’s attention. Perched upon a shelf were four pictures of a younger Ben Solo. The first seemed to be from the day he was born; Han and Leia were holding their small infant with glee. For the next two photographs, Ben had a lightsaber. In one, he looked no older than ten and had a cheerful smile as he sat with his legs crossed, several rocks floating beside him. In the other, Ben resembled a moody teenager, entirely dressed in black clothing with an angsty expression. The last one was by far Vivian’s favorite. He looked fairly similar to how he did now, perhaps a few years younger, smiling and standing with his father in front of Millennium Falcon.

Vivian held her hand over her mouth in an attempt to hide her giggling, but she couldn’t help it, He looks so cute! Ben, embarrassed and flustered, hurried to her side and took the four pictures down, giving his mother a glare, “Not cool, Ma.”

Leia held her hands up defensively and smiled at Vivian, “I have more pictures I can show you later.”

“Ma!” 

Breakfast had taken much longer than expected. Han and Leia continued entertaining Vivian by embarrassing Ben with stories of his childhood. They tried to get to know her better with prying questions. All in all, it was a success for both parties.

As they were wrapping up, Vivian and Leia stacked up the plates and made their way to the kitchen for some ‘girl talk’.

“He truly cares for you,” Leia said. “I’ve never seen him like this, it’s like he’s becoming a better person because of you.”

“I feel the same way. He-”

“You don’t have to say anything else, I know,” Leia cut her off, “You wouldn’t have come here if you didn’t love him. I see the way you two look at each other, the way you act with each other, it reminds me of my husband and me. I’m glad Ben has you.”

Vivian pulled her lips into a genuine smile and hugged Leia. It was unexpected for the general, but she embraced her affectionately in return. Once they finished cleaning, they joined the boys in the living room to continue chatting on Ben’s teen phase were he idolized his grandfather in every way possible.

The fun, however, could only last for so long - Han and Leia were eventually called in for some last minute meetings. Ben decided then to give Vivian a tour of the base, reintroduce her to Poe (in which the latter apologized), and help her to unpack in their new living space.

“I told you they’d love you,” Ben proudly stated.

“You’re right and I actually had a lot of fun. But what you didn’t tell me was that you have your mother’s eyes and your father’s smile. And you definitely didn’t tell me how cute you were as a baby!” she teased.

Ben wasn’t sure how he’d do it, but he knew he needed to find and get rid of all his childhood pictures, especially the ones where he dressed up in a Darth Vader costume.

A/N: Not necessarily my best or favorite chapter but it’s there I guess. Anyways, sorry for not posting earlier but I was on a trip & didn’t really have much time to write. Plus, I was a little stumped because even though I’ve known what I want to write since day one, the actual work of turning bullet points into paragraphs isn’t as easy. Either way, I hope you enjoyed it & I’ll post the next chapter soon!

Credit to the space line divider break is here.

[x-fantasy-is-my-reality-x]

Mischief: Chapter 5

“Cut it off?!” Legolas nearly shouted in surprise. “Can’t I just braid it or put dirt in it?”

 “Nope! Come on, it’ll be fun!” Pippin said, much too happily.

 “But he loves his beard! He’ll have my head!” He was nearly pulling his own hair out of his scalp in distress.

 “No he won’t! Not if he doesn’t find out you did it!”

 Legolas couldn’t have been more nervous if he was having a personal meeting with his father after running away for a couple of days (Like he often did when he was younger.).

 “Who else would do it? I’ll be the only suspect!” He retorted, hoping to shut down the idea before it became engraved into the Took’s head, but it was too late. Hobbits could be extremely stubborn when they wanted to be.

 “You could always blame it on someone else,” Pippin looked at him with a face that spoke of evil.

 “Who else?”

 “Boromir.”

 Now Legolas didn’t know a lot about the human, other than that he could be very obstinate shown by his actions during Lord Elrond’s council, and that he didn’t really seem to like anyone in the company.

 But still, the elf didn’t want to frame him, even if he did act like a jerk sometimes.

 As if Pippin could read his mind, he quickly said, “There wouldn’t be anyone else. You wouldn’t want to frame Aragorn would you? And you want your revenge don’t you?”

 “Not really…”

 “Fine!” Pippin exclaimed, tossing his hands in the air. “Let it be known from this day forth that Prince Legolas would not retaliate to a attack to his pride from a dwarf!”

 That was the last straw.

 “Okay okay! But it’s on you!” He pointed at Pippin.

 “Alright. Here’s what you have to do…” He pulled Legolas down by his tunic and started whispering in his ear.

                                                            ***

 The sun had climbed up into the middle of the sky by the time Legolas and Pippin returned to camp, not both at the same time of course.

 Legolas hid his disappearance in an armful of vegetables and berries, and attempted not to look tense as he strolled into the clearing, refusing to make eye contact with Gimli nor Boromir, who was sharpening a dagger in the shadows of the trees.

 The sound of scraping metal on metal made the man no less intimidating. The branches laden with lush leaves, rattled too loudly as Pippin peeked out from its depths and jerked his head towards their collective packs. Wincing, he plopped the food down and grabbed his own bag, searching for scissors, his two knives would be a last resort.

 A gleam of silver peeked out from underneath his stash of clothes, the small pair of sewing scissors he’d brought just in case, and the elf found that he was both relieved (For not having to dig through someone else’s pack) and crestfallen for not being able to back out.

 But not that his pride would have let him anyways.

 Pippin gave him a thumbs-up and melted back into the whence he came, to do Valar knows what.

 Legolas shoved the scissors in his pocket, checking to make sure nobody saw him. Now all that was left was to wait until nightfall to make his move.

                                                        ***

 Soon, it had seem to the Prince that the hours passed by too quickly and the late dusk sky was rapidly dropping over their heads.

 The fire was put out and luckily or unluckily, Pippin was sent out for the watch. At least it would deter suspicion from Legolas.

 He lay in his bedroll uncomfortably (This time noticeably farther away from the overhanging wall), waiting patiently for his companions’ breathing to slow.

 Finally at last, it seemed like the last of the Fellowship had fallen asleep before he was certain that he could make his move.

 Still fully dressed, the archer rose to full height under the full moon and stepped delicately around the strewn limbs on the dirt ground, listening and following the monstrous snoring of the dwarf.

 It wasn’t very hard to find him, and his tangled, red beard stood out in the moonlight. Legolas didn’t even need his elvish sight or supernatural hearing to find him.

 His breathing start to grow short and his heart pounded in his chest, mortified by the notion of waking Gimli or any of the others and being caught red handed.

 Taking a strand of red hair in his palm, he held the scissors up, wavering with apprehension.

 The scissors closed and Gimli’s facial hair drifted to the ground. Well, there was no going back now.

 After a long and horribly tense while, he had finally completed his task. Legolas stood up, gazing down at Gimli, whose cheeks and chin were now as naked as a molerat.

 He seemed like a chubby man-baby to Legolas without his beard. It was utterly hilarious.

Even two thousand years of agonizingly practising self-control under Thranduil couldn’t have stopped him from letting out a few muffled laughs from his lips. By the time Legolas was was able to calm himself down, his chest hurt from trying so hard not to make a sound and his lungs were heaving for air.

 Still, it wasn’t over yet.

 Trying to tuck a pair of scissors under Boromir’s pillow was harder than it had looked. The human was hugging it in both arms and head and seemed to be cuddling it more than sleeping on it. And every time Legolas touched him would make some alarming noise or movement that had the elf scrambling for cover.

 After an incredible amount of grappling with the sleeping man and not waking him at the same time, Legolas eventually managed to slip the tool under his head, along with a couple lone hairs as well, then distributing some on his clothes.

 By that time, he felt like a half-drowned rat, and even more so when he remembered he had to dispose of the rest of Gimli’s now detached beard.

 Just as he was walking back to the “crime scene”, as he would forever call in his mind, a drowsy voice behind him made him freeze in his tracks.

 “What are you doing up so late Legolas?”

 It was Aragorn.

 A few seconds after his heart stopped beating against his ribcage he finally found the courage to reply.

 “I-I’m just getting some air Estel. No need to worry. Go back to sleep,” he said looking over his shoulder, praying that Strider wouldn’t notice the pile of beard by Gimli.

 “M’kay just don’t stay out too long…...” The Ranger’s eyes were already closing and he dropped back onto his bed, asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

 Legolas waited a few minutes just to make sure.

 Gimli was still dreaming peacefully, grumbling something about “elves and their stupid hair” and how he wanted to eat fish.

 Legolas scooped up the leftovers and threw it downstream after a short walk, glad that he didn’t bump into Pippin on his way there and back.

 But there was no way he was going to be able to sleep that night. Partly out of guilt, and partly because of the mental image of Gimli’s new makeover. Mostly because of the latter though.