#series: eleanor's kitchen

[lizzybeth1986]

Eleanor's Kitchen

Books: The Royal Romance/Heir, Rules of Engagement

Pairing: Queen Eleanor & Prince Leo + Liam (mother-sons/siblings), Leo x Damien (mentioned in RoE) (romantic), Liam & Jason (OC) (platonic).

Rating: PG

Summary: Liam notices Leo's friendship with Damien, their gardener's eldest son, becoming stronger.

Series: Eleanor's Kitchen

Note: Damien (not Nazario from PM!) has been mentioned in this scene in Rules of Engagement, Book 2. I played fast and loose with the timelines for this backstory, and have given Damien a younger brother who was Liam's age.

This chapter takes place almost a year following Ch 3. Liam is now 8 years old, Leo is 14.

Word Count: 3, 718 words

Tagging @kingliamappreciationweek for KLAW Day 4: Childhood, @aprilchallenge for the prompt "just want to be with you", @choicesholidays for National Sibling Appreciation Day (April 10th) and @choicesficwriterscreations for FoTW.

Chapter 4: Garídes Saganáki

(Photo from this recipe)

Liam greets the salt air that briefly kisses his face, and the sand that pools around his toes at the beach, with a sense of homecoming. This beach has felt as much like his home as the palace he was born in, suffused with memories of sandcastles and uniquely-shaped seashells and the rush of excitement that came every time a wave crashed against the shore.

And most of all, it feels like home for the moments long past. For the rare times both he and Leo did things together, back when Leo actually liked taking him along for things. When his talk was actually more talk and less eyerolling and "oh you're too young to understand". The love is still there, and so is the need to protect each other (especially against Father's acid remarks, usually aimed at Leo) - just...the companionship isn't, any longer.

The sad, sinking feeling that used to emerge from realizing that is, thankfully, rare now - Liam much prefers the company of his own friends - but when he was four and hanging on to his big brother's every word, it had stung.

"Every big brother does that," his newest friend, Jason, shrugged. Jason is the palace gardner Giorgos Vasilakis' youngest son, accompanying his father since last year on visits to the Queen to discuss the plans surrounding her dream project: the palace hedge maze, that was to echo the one in Château de Villandry in France. Jason's older brother Damien had always been the one at Kýrios Vasilakis' side before that, but of late Liam has begun to associate his presence more with his own elder brother.

Jason is lonely. Unlike Liam, who has managed to bring together his own motley band of merry playmates, Jason has only the one older brother and has never gotten the chance to venture beyond the palace and his father's cottage. Liam has experienced only a fraction of that kind of loneliness and it had felt like hell. He and Jason may not know each other well, but he'll be damned if he let the other boy he has no one. And so he brings Jason along to meet all his friends.

Both Liam's and Jason's older brothers accompany the group of exhilarated children to the beach, but slip away in another direction before the group can notice. Liam notes the direction Leo and Damien are headed - their heads leaning towards each other as they walk - but says nothing. More friends, Liam reminds himself of his purpose here, first make sure we give Jason more friends.

Liam isn't disappointed. Before long, Jason's name has been shortened to Jase, his shorts and shirt have been drenched from jumping over the crashing waves with Maxwell, and he's snacking happily over pine nuts with Drake and Olivia. He even enjoys collecting seashells with Tariq, even if he did find him a little odd at first.

"I can understand not wanting to get your shoes wet but why would he want to keep them 30 feet away from the sea??"

Liam giggles a little. "They're not just shoes! They're...uh... Salvatore Ferra-somethings!" he says, already forgetting the Italian names that slip so easily from Tariq's tongue when he's talking about a shoe brand. Liam would too, if his father spoke his ears off about shoes as much as Tariq's did.

"If you say so," Jason replies doubtfully. What a funny bunch of people these nobles and royals are, he must be thinking, "but what if they get stolen?"

"Then Tariq will sniff and say he hopes they were stolen by someone who truly understands the value and beauty of Italian shoes."

Just before they leave, the children build a sandcastle. Liam and Jason deem themselves the architects of the main structure, Drake and Olivia choose to build a fortress. Maxwell ropes in a skeptical Tariq to help him construct a fantastic "Tower of Fun and Parties" right next to the castle itself. They are almost done when Jason stands up, declares the castle incomplete without a good garden, and pokes dots into the sand to form imaginary flowers.

For a moment all they can hear is the shriek of the gulls and the buffeting crash of the waves. They are all silent, and smiling, and very, very proud of themselves.

This structure is the biggest sandcastle the children have ever built themselves thus far, and by the time Leo and Damien return (hair damp, skin glistening, breathing hard as if they'd jumped down the steep cliffs of the Forgotten Falls and climbed back up, hands very close but not really touching) they are all convinced it is the biggest castle they ever will conceive of building. Even if it is one built in sand, soon to be a victim to the crashing waves.

--

Liam puts on his baking gloves, balancing himself on the balls of his feet as he waits to take his freshly-baked bread out of the oven. It's a moment he likes to gear himself up for - there's just something, some magic, about that first, comforting, soul-filling whiff. He'd experienced that feeling the first time he actually watched Chef Anais bake, and he's felt it ever since.

His version of Greek village-style bread is perfect today - the crust a lovely brown with little cracks and ridges to show off how crisp its outside is, and he is certain the inside will be soft and a light shade of yellow from the semolina he added to it. The aroma is good enough to make his mother stop in the middle of her own cooking just to breathe it in.

Her face covered in a fine sheen of sweat today from the heat in the kitchen, her hair bunched into a wrap and her hands waving away steam and smoke from her face. Liam can't quite tell whether it is excitement he sees on her face or exhaustion. But from the corner of his eye as he carries the bread to the table to rest, he can tell it is more of the former.

There are two pots boiling away at once on the stove: one a creamy, garlicy, peppery fish broth; the other a beautifully silky tomato-based sauce that he knows from experience will become even silkier and creamier when Mum adds a sinfully liberal amount of feta chesse to it.

He almost reaches out for it with a spoon when his mother stops him.

"Ah-ah-ah!" Mum says, playfully wagging her finger, "Not yours, thisavré mou. This is for your brother and his friend only. That's why I'm making something with your favourite Stone Bass fish as well. For you and your friend."

Liam frowns. "But I've had shrimp saganaki before. You know I like it too. Why couldn't you just make a bigger batch?"

Mum lets out a sigh suffused with embarrassed laughter. Her hand inadvertently motions itself towards a bottle of alcohol on the table titled Ouzo. "This one is... different. Not for children."

Liam pouts in petulance. Of late reminders that he is still a child and his brother isn't have begun to annoy him. There is something so mythical about teenagehood, Liam is beginning to realise, something he wants to know more about but is too out of his reach to even begin to understand.

Don't be so eager to let go of your childhood, pet, then you'll spend the rest of your life wanting it back, Mum would often tell him. All that phrase does now is make him even more impatient.

The smell of ripened crushed tomatoes, mixing in with the garlic, onions, and chilis, makes for a heady combination. He secretly thanks Uncle Franci for sending them yet another carton of San Marzanos - Mum said he'd written in his last letter that his wife, Aunt Pari, would be making a trip down to her home province of Bethulia soon for the Navroze festival, and was hoping Mum would come celebrate it with her this year.

There is another aroma in the sauce Liam has never smelled before, and has a hard time identifying - it's slightly pungent and makes his eyes water a little. It must be from the bottle of Ouzo.

Mum tosses the feta into the small, two-handled heavy-bottomed frying pan at will - she has never really been one for measurements - and quickly places the pan beneath the broiler to melt the cheese. Liam watches in fascination as her hands crumble extra feta; there is no rubric for how much, she just stops when she feels like it. Just throw! she will tell him anytime he asks her for a measuring cup. Cooking for Mum has always been just a play of hands; trust your hands and give them their time with the ingredients - and the results may not always be consistent but over time they will be forever delicious.

Liam has timed his baking closely enough that by the time both his and Leo's dishes are ready, his bread will have rested long enough, and is ready to serve as a side.

They find Leo talking to Jason's brother at one of the more intimate drawing rooms of the palace, their heads so close they're almost touching. Both their hands are jammed into their pockets, as if they'd hurriedly put them there from whatever their original position was. Their eyes dart everywhere and both seem to turn a little pink. A curl from Damien's dark hair rests carelessnessly on his forehead, and Liam catches his brother looking at it at least twice.

Jason skips to Liam's side. "Where is everyone else?" he whispers.

"Drake and his sister have gone to Texas to stay with their aunt, Olivia's with one of the Elders in Lythikos, Maxwell and Tariq are back home. It's just me, I'm afraid." Liam shuffles his feet in uncharacteristic awkwardness. He knows that a lot of the things he likes to talk about can either bore or confuse his own friends.

"Good enough for me," Jason says, grinning. "Her Majesty says she's got us fish stew."

"Bianco. And shrimp saganaki for Leo and Damien." Liam lowers his voice in a conspiratorial whisper. "Don't tell your dad - Mum made those herself. Father built her her own kitchen two and a half years ago. Not many besides some of the kitchen staff know."

Jason's eyes widen at the bowl that's just arrived, and then brightens. Imagine that, being treated to the cooking of an actual queen!

Mum had wisely decided to seat the pairs of brothers in different areas, confident that they would be bored stiff if they were made to eat together. It's a lot better this way, Liam thinks, as Jason talks animatedly of the new toys his dad got him with the increase in his salary from last month onwards. Leo and Damien would perhaps find their chats rather silly, and a lot of the things they say fly like seagulls over Liam and Jason's heads.

The Bianco is as good as Liam and Jason had hoped: the sauce smooth and creamy, the fish mildly sweet and with flesh so soft it crumbles a little on the tongue. Liam can't help but puff his chest in pride as he and Jason use the bread he made to sop up the rest of the sauce, the heat from the pepper and garlic and the delightful tang from the lemon warming them all down to their toes. Jason tells Liam to tell Her Majesty to forgive his lack of manners but he is this close to licking his plate.

Normally, Liam would be ecstatic about getting to eat a Stone Bass, especially here where the catch is always today's, wild and fresh and soul-stirringly tasty..."not that garbage you get from the fish farms" as Grandmother used to say.

But his thoughts keep crawling back to the meal his and Jason's older brothers got. The dish that has been so familiar to him all these years, yet seems so alien now. All because of an added mysterious... thing that seems all the more exciting because he isn't allowed to touch it.

Liam goes and sneaks a look at where their brothers sit, enjoying their shrimp. Leo looks over to his friend's plate, notices his bread is over, breaks his own loaf apart and offers it to Damien, looking straight into his eyes as he dips it into his sauce and eats it. Damien's fingers lightly brush his as he takes the bread.

"You know who made that bread?" Leo's voice for some reason sounds different, warmer and deeper and a little more serious. Liam turns pink with forgotten filial pleasure at the note of pride in his words. "Liam. My baby brother."

Damien grins. "There's sauce near your lip."

Leo makes a great show of pretending not to know where. "Where?"

Damien looks left and right - and satisfied that they cannot be seen (Liam heaves a sigh of relief as he emerges from behind a corner Leo and Damien cannot clearly see) takes his napkin and dabs softly at the corner of his mouth. The two boys suddenly cannot look each other in the eye, and their smiles hold secrets that make Liam feel like an intruder on this little moment, for perhaps no reason. Damien's only cleaning Leo's face.

But when he returns and tells Jason what he saw, the other boy stays silent for a few minutes.

"Babás almost saw Prince Leo at our home once," Jason says quietly, "Mamá had to hide him in a cupboard."

"But why?" Liam asks back, puzzled, "I thought Kýrios Vasilakis liked him. Ever since he started attending his lessons regularly and actually -"

"I know. I thought so too. I'm not sure why Leo and Damien and Mamá look so scared these days. No one ever tells me." Jason finishes with a nonchalant shrug that belies his petulant frustration at not being told things he cannot fully understand.

Liam sighs, all thoughts of their brothers forgotten. "No one thinks I'm old enough to understand anything either."

As Liam watches Jason's older brother reluctantly take leave of his own, their gazes lingering more than their touches ever could...and realises how childishly enthusiastic their own goodbyes are, Liam goes to bed wondering what Leo's shrimp saganaki tastes like. Is it pungent? Is it sweet? Does it leave a bitter aftertaste?

That night, Liam lies in bed in his silk unicorn-and-rainbow pajamas, burningly aware of how like a child he looks in it. How unlike his older brother - in his leather jackets and carelessly tousled hair. He begins counting the months before his mother can properly deem him "of age", and falls asleep before he can even reach his pre-teen years.

--

Days later, Leo takes a walk around the Wishing Well with his mother.

It's amazing how much things have changed in the years Eleanor has been married to Constantine, and therefore into the Royal Family. His little son had only been four then, and he'd hidden behind his father the first few times she tried to come near. Constantine and his mother had fumed over this in the beginning, wanting to help ease him into trusting her but neither having a whole lot of patience - so it had been up to her to reassure him that they would only set his relationship with her at his pace.

And it had paid off. Little Leo had once seen the "new mother" outside, trying to stargaze, and sat beside her in silence, listening for half an hour as she pointed out constellations. She'd known he loved stargazing and knew he needed a companion of sorts The first ever times they talked were all about stars...until five months later when he lost interest and Eleanor found out whatever it was that captured his fancy next.

Still, because that night was the night they tentatively began to consider themselves mother and son, she often brings back memories of it by calling him astéri mou.

"Your tutors have been very pleased with you this year," Eleanor says, suppressing a little smile, "they've been seeing how hard you've been working at your studies lately." There's a mischievous glow in her eyes. "Any more efforts and you'll soon be surpassing Liam, they say."

Leo snorts. He knows, no matter how hard he tries, that he can never reach his kid brother's level in either interest or acumen for politics. That is a quality unique to just him and he's more than happy to let him bask in it, but ever since Damien....

A quick, intense memory of him flashes. Dark curls, full lips, skin smooth beneath Leo's fingertips. It had amazed him how they'd been playmates one minute, pretending to be pirates and running around the palace gardens, and he'd never in all that time noticed that kind of gut-capturing beauty. His voice deep and passionate at the Forgotten Falls two weeks ago, as Damien whispered into his hair, "Let me hold you for a bit. We don't have to talk...we don't have to do anything. I just want to be with you."

He knows becoming a good King will be a hundred times harder for him than it was for his father, than (he is beginning to realize) it could be for his brother. He had made his peace with that at some point this year. But being around Damien...knowing that in his future position a relationship like theirs could be both legally permitted and morally viewed as sheer irresponsibility (and this is in only the kindest of parallel universes) and still knowing it is a relationship he cannot ever conceive of giving up...

If he could just prove himself capable in every other area of his life, just please his father and bring pride to his mother in other ways, maybe both his father and Damien's may just not force what they could have together, to die.

Mamá sighs. "Leo...astèri mou. You don't understand. I am already proud of you."

Oh no. Had he just said the words aloud?

He responds to her answer with another question. "How did you find out about us, Mamá?"

She shakes her head. "Kyría Vasilikou." Damien's mother, who hid Leo in a cupboard that one time Kyríe Vasilikos almost caught them. She had been extraordinarily kind and very contrite - sending Leo with a box of melomakarona and begging him never to come to this house again for fear of what Damien's father may do to him next.

He remembers Mamá's words from that evening.

"Damien's father - and his father before him - are extraordinarily dedicated to the King. It was His father that ensured their family would be set for many, many years to come...and his gratitude towards them can make him blind to what could make his own son happy."

The mother who had birthed him, the one he had often called Mummy, is at best a faded memory now. He called Eleanor Mamá almost a year after she'd married his father, because he finally felt ready and because it suited her. That evening, he understood his Mamá's underlying message.

I will always support you. But until we can figure out a way, you must be careful.

And so he will be. Both Damien and he will try their darnedest not to be too obvious about their love for each other...and Leo will continue to work harder on his lessons.

Smiling, Mamá changes the subject. "Liam's very upset we won't let him have shrimp saganaki."

Leo bursts out laughing. "He's had it so many times already!"

She shrugs. "Oh no, not that way. He's demanding the "Leo and Damien special". Ouzo and all. I suspect the baby of our family wants to be seen as a baby no more."

He rolls his eyes. "He's going to be really disappointed. It's not going to be that different from regular saganaki. Just makes it taste a little bit more like anise."

If that isn't a fitting symbol of what adolescence feels like when you come out of your big impractical dreams of what adolescence might be, Eleanor doesn't know what is. It is a lesson they all learned the hard way, only to see their children struggle with it too. They can only sit back, knowing that nothing they can say will change the kids' minds.

Leo at age 14 is already bored of his teenage years and raising his eyes towards the glamour of adulthood. Liam at age 8 has a far too rosy picture of adolescence, and envies his brother for being the whole-body-manifestation of everything he now wants but knows he needs to wait to have.

And while Eleanor will be forever grateful Liam has inherited her vast capacity for patience and not his father's, she is also aware that that patience is beginning to wear thin.

Leo may be too focused on his feelings for Damien to see it, but a time will come when the brother he has always considered a kid will grow before his eyes, and he will be too surprised by the change to understand, or know how to communicate. She can only hope they'll find their little ways, as they once did before.

Sighing, she passes her eldest a coin, and takes a second in her own hand.

"Ready to make a wish?"

Leo nods. Eleanor smiles. She knows already what he's going to ask.

Eleanor tosses hers into the well, watching as it makes its rapid descent down.

Whatever else changes, just make sure these two never forget how much they need each other.

Eleanor returns to the palace with her son, smiling. Between the Wishing Well and the official gardens, there are bits and pieces of a plan taking shape, a plan for a garden maze. Around it, she can see her youngest playing tag with his friends: one of whom is the youngest of their gardener, a little boy Liam seems to have taken under his wing.

Leo and his mother stop by to watch the children. Both sigh, and both realize it's for the same reason.

Liam will be thrust into his adolescent years before he even knows it. But at least they both can enjoy this sight of him enjoying his childhood completely, wholeheartedly, for what it is. If only for today.

--

Recipes:

Shrimp Saganaki

Corfoit Bianco

Horiatiko Psomi

A/N2: For Sibling Day I really wanted to do a fic that explored the dynamics of a sibling pair with a significant age gap. There is some amount of awe at older people - esp older kids- at their age, as well as a little envy and a desire to become them.

Meanings:

Kyríos/Kyría: Greek for Mr and Mrs usually.

Thisavré mou - my treasure

Ouzo - Ouzo is an anise-flavored liquor produced from grape must (the remnants of wine-making). It can only be made in Greece and Cyprus

Feta cheese - A brined, white cheese with a soft and creamy texture, often made from sheep's milk.

Navroze - Festival for Parsi New Year, often celebrated with Iranians around the world as well as other Zoroastrian communities.

Babás/Mamá - Greek for Dad and Mum.

Astéri mou - my star

[sublimeinal-messages]

Any five x oc fanfic recs? I just read your entire series in 2 days and I crave more

OMG hi sorry I didn't see your ask until now! Personally, I found myself frustrated with a lot of Five fics out there because they were very romance-focused and didn't give the rest of the family the care that was needed, but the fic Definitely Maybe I Will Live To Love by my friend Seeing_Blue (@i-dropped-the-chief !) who not only made me realize Oh! there are actually good oc fanfics that can exist, and also involve a well-written Five. And I consumed the entire series of fics that exist that they wrote, as well as the AU spinoff fic.... and then all of their other works outside the Umbrella Academy fandom. Seeing-Blue is just a fantastic writer all around and I cannot hype up their works more, go check them out!!

[bluedelliquanti]

Before I go on vacation, I present my list of my top books for 2024.

COMICS:

Roaming by Jillian Tamaki & Mariko Tamaki

Bunt! by Ngozi Ukazu & Mad Rupert

Ukazu and Rupert are a powerhouse team, and as an art school adjunct, this already funny GN is even funnier (albeit in a way that necessitates a skull emoji in the educator groupchat)

Tiffany’s Griffon by Magnolia Porter Siddell & Maddi Gonzalez

Phobos and Deimos by J Dalton

Delicious in Dungeon by Ryoko Kui

It's a tough task to reach a satisfying conclusion to a series that was as strong as Dungeon, but I think Kui accomplished it!

Fool Night by Kasumi Yasuda

King in Limbo by Ai Tanaka

Over the last year I've been drawn towards comic series that work with a retro, fixed-width inking style, and King especially informed some recent experiments of mine.

PROSE:

Twins by Bari Wood & Jack Geasland

When I learned Wood was responsible for the book that became Dead Ringers, I knew I had to try it. This is the one that wins my "Oh, shit! Wow!! Okay!!!" award for the year (distinctions previously awarded to Cyteen and Manhunt).

The Bezzle by Cory Doctorow

DS9: A Stitch in Time by Andrew J. Robinson

Those of you who read my journal comic from last August might recall that I met Robinson at a Trek convention! I'd learned from reading these books that Stitch was considered a white whale among collectors, and now I absolutely understand why. If you're a DS9 fan and you want to try any book from the original run of novels, try this one. By which I mean, try the far easier-to-find audiobook version.

Translation State by Ann Leckie

A Woman of the Iron People by Eleanor Arnason

Fellow SBCF participant Erin Roseberry had shared this title as an inspiration for their comic, The Maker of Grave-Goods, and I was especially interested in trying a book by a Twin Cities author. What a serendipitous find!

Arboreality by Rebecca Campbell

For the third year in a row, a book nominated for the Le Guin Prize makes the list.

Always Coming Home by Ursula K. Le Guin

This is another book I always told myself I'd try someday, and was it ever worth it! I spent some time talking about my experience with this story (and its accompanying materials that fill out the world) in my talk with Evan Dahm on his show.

See you in the new year! I've packed some thick books for a long flight, so I'm starting my 2025 reading pile right away!

Reruns of my previous two lists, 2023, and 2022, below the cut.

2023

COMICS:

Yokohama Kaidashi Kikou by Hitoshi Ashinano

Out of Style by Devi Putri Megwati

Skip and Loafer by Misaki Takamatsu

The Harrowing of Hell by Evan Dahm

The Infinity Particle by Wendy Xu

Esteban by Matthieu Bonhomme

I covered my ShortBox reccs back in October, but since then I also picked up Pearl Hunting by Hana Chatani when it came to itch.io and adored it.

PROSE: 

So yes, maybe I'm cheating by including Moby Dick since I'm not all the way finished, but Whale Weekly really did end up being a great tool for getting me to crack open my gorgeous Evan Dahm-illustrated copy I've had for a while.

My favorite book of the year is Roadside Picnic by Arkady & Boris Strugatsky. I genuinely did read it the first week of January, but after having it recommended to me for years, I'm thrilled it didn't disappoint. Maybe I am someone who likes Russian novels after all???

Kitchen by Banana Yoshimoto

Such Nice People by Sandra Scoppettone

Cyteen by C.J. Cherryh (I jokingly placed these three in the "READ 👏 FEMALE 👏 AUTHORS 👏" category because they don't have anything in common other than describing some of the most upsetting/bizarre scenarios I've read this year. Cyteen especially! Wowee!!!)

Brother Alive by Zain Khalid

Glory by Vladimir Nabokov

A Different Trek by David K. Seitz, which I mentioned as my vacation book for the Star Trek convention, but it's given me some great suggestions for more books, both fiction and otherwise. Also, I read... 11 more DS9 books this year. 

2022

COMICS:

Fullmetal Alchemist by Hiromu Arakawa

Vattu by Evan Dahm

The Well by Choo and Jake Wyatt

Wash Day Diaries by Robyn Smith and Jamila Rowser

Some ShortBox Comics Fair entries that are graphic novella length and are really good include Food School by Jade Armstrong and The God of Arepo by Reimena Yee et al.

PROSE:

Detransition, Baby by Torrey Peters

The Murders of Molly Southbourne by Tade Thompson

How to Blow Up a Pipeline by Andreas Malm

Manhunt by Gretchen Felker-Martin

Dead Collections by Isaac Fellman

Pale Fire by Vladimir Nabokov

A Psalm for the Wild-Built by Becky Chambers

The Past is Red by Catherynne M. Valente

edit: oh my god I can't believe I forgot Perfume by Patrick Süskind

Honorable mentions from the pile of DS9 novelizations include Revenant by Alex White (for successfully pulling off a Sara Paretsky-style mystery in space) and Dominion War: Call to Arms by Diane Carey (for absolutely unhinged adjective choices).

[tessa-liam]

Royal Adventures 

Season’s Scrambles

Chapter 2 

Books: Choices, The Royal Romance Finale, Choices, The Royal Holiday 

A Smoke & Mirrors Series Alternate Universe 

Main Pairing: Liam Rys x F! MC Riley Brooks-Rys

All characters belong to Pixelberry Studios

Series Inspiration: Royal Misadventures, Smoke & Mirrors series 1-shot 

Series Premise: 12-year-old Crown Princess Eleanor Rys of Cordonia has officially started her Royal education. Tutors that had been personally selected by His Majesty King Liam Rys and Queen Riley Rys were set to begin her royal lessons, and her days were packed full. The young princess was a natural leader, and the King and Queen could not be prouder.   

Royal Adventures Masterlist 

Smoke and Mirrors Masterlist 

Rating:  M, not Beta'd-please excuse all errors    

Category: On-going series, fluff 

Warnings: swearing, drinking, sexual innuendo 

Most Characters belong to Pixelberry Studios 

Chapter Inspiration: National Lampoon’s ‘Christmas Vacation’ 

Katie Campbell – Theme Song 1989 

Royal Adventures 

Season’s Scrambles, chapter 2 

Chapter Summary: Olivia invites the Royal Family, Leo & Amalas, Drake & Delaney, Alex Cossoy, Hana and Maxwell to the Dukedom of Lythikos to enjoy the winter season for the holidays.  Ellie, along with Drake, Leo and Maxwell decide to have a sledding competition. In secret. Olivia and Ellie conspire to grease Maxwell's sled with a super slippery substance where his sled flies down the hill at an extremely fast speed. 

A/N: My submission for King Liam Appreciation Week 2024, Day 1 - Baklava 

A/N2: My submission for @choicesholidays, @angelascribbles -Week 5- Prompt: New Traditions 

A/N3: My submission for Choices December 2024 Challenge, Prompts: 4-Traditions/5-Baking/8-Spices/21-Tree/26-Hot Chocolate/10-Snow,      All I Want for Christmas is You (Mariah Carey) 

@lilyoffandoms 

Words: 2445

 Lythokis Keep, Lythokis, Cordonia 

Carefully laying out the phyllo dough, Riley hummed a Christmas tune as she started to layer the ingredients for Baklava for Liam. The sweet honey drizzle and cinnamon made her mouth water. The smell of his favorite dessert would draw him into the kitchens quickly. Luckily, he was off to fell a talon tree with Leo, Drake and Alex, having left at the crack of dawn, not expected to return until later in the afternoon. 

"Baklava?" 12-year-old Ellie asked, as she watched her mother gleefully preparing her father’s favorite sweet treat. Sitting on the stool next to her mother, Ellie sighed, “I love Baklava,” looking longingly at the sweet confection. 

"Of course you do," Riley chuckled, nudging her shoulder. "I'll try to save you some," as Riley continued to sprinkle chopped pistachios onto the dish. 

"Thanks, Mom!" 

"I want to lick the bowl." Stefan said, jumping up and down. 

"No way!" William cried. "You always get to lick the bowl, Steffie." 

"Stefan, you can't eat it all," Riley said, looking down at her youngest. "This is your dad's and he's going to be hungry after felling that tree." 

"But I love baklava," Stefan pouted, his eyes tearing up. 

Riley looked over at him, seeing the tears in his eyes. She knew that look anywhere. 

"Stefan, no..." she warned. 

"Please?" He begged. 

She shook her head, chuckling. 

"Go ahead." 

"Yessss!" Stefan cheered, leaping into the air. 

Riley grinned and finished placing the top layer. She took the pan and placed it into the oven. 

"So," she said, turning to look at her children. "What's on the agenda for today?" 

"Auntie Livvie invited Micaela and I to go sledding," Ellie said.  

"Oh really? Okay, before you go, please help your brothers with their skates.” 

"Sure, Mom," Ellie nodded agreeably.  

Riley took a sip of her coffee and walked away to get herself dressed for the winter chill, leaving the kids to their own devices. 

"Alright, boys," Ellie said, walking over to them. 

"We wanna go sledding!" William whined. 

"I'll help you get your skates on," she said. "Then you can go sledding." 

"Promise?" 

“Yes, I promise." 

❄️❄️❄️ 

"Alright, boys," Maxwell said, standing in the middle of the ice rink with Hana and Amalas, holding his nephews' hands. "Are you ready to learn how to skate?" 

"Yes!" Stefan yelled. 

"No!" William cried. "It's cold out here." 

"You won't even notice once you get started," Hana said, kneeling next to him. 

"Really?" 

"Trust me." 

"Alright," William said, nodding. 

"Come on, you two," Riley said, taking their hands. 

"Mom," Ellie said, grabbing Riley's hand. 

"Hmm?" 

"When is Daddy coming back?" 

"In a few hours, sweetie," she replied, rubbing her arm. "He should be done by lunch time." 

"Ok." 

"Now," Riley said, standing on the ice and taking the twins' hands. "Let's go." 

"Wait," Stefan said, stopping. 

"What's wrong?" 

"How do we stay up?" 

"Don't worry," Hana said, sliding next to him and taking his hand. "We've got you." 

"I'm scared." 

"Just relax and don't think about it," Maxwell said. 

"Just like when you're walking," Riley added. 

"Just don't fall," Stefan nodded warily. 

"Stefan," William groaned, rolling his eyes. "Don't say that." 

"Why not?" 

"You'll jinx us." 

"How would I-" 

"Hey," Maxwell said, crouching in front of them. "Look at me. Do you know who I am?" 

"You're Uncle Maxwell," Stefan nodded. 

"Do you know that I'm not going to let you get hurt? Or your mom or your Aunt Hana?" 

"No." 

"And you trust me, right?" 

"Yeah." 

"Then you have nothing to worry about," Maxwell said, winking at him. 

"Okay." 

"Good." 

"I want to go with you, Auntie Hana!" Stefan said. 

"Me too!" William cried. 

"Ok, ok," Hana chuckled. 

As the twins began to glde with Hana, Riley looked up at Maxwell and smirked. 

"Race you." 

"Oh, you're on, queen Riles," Maxwell said, smirking back. 

They sped off across the ice, the kids squealing as they picked up speed. Amalas slid next to Hana, smirking. 

"How much did you bet on this?" 

"1000 euro," Hana smirked. 

"Excellent." 

Riley and Maxwell were neck and neck, their kids cheering from the sidelines. 

"Last lap, Beaumont," Riley breathily laughed. 

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Ri," he responded cheekily. 

Riley laughed and sped up. She passed him and he tried to speed up as well but instead lost his balance and fell on his face. Riley burst into giggles, falling onto the ice, dramatically, as well. The twins cheered, hugging their aunt tightly. 

"You beat Uncle Maxwell!" 

"I told you, Mom's the best!" 

"Thank you, thank you," Riley chuckled, bowing. 

...Meanwhile, Olivia was preparing Maxwell's sled as Ellie watched closely.

"So, it's a secret sled?" Ellie asked.  "What are you spraying on the bottom of the disk? 

"This," Olivia said, holding up a can. 

"What's that?" 

"Graphite oil spray. It's not even for sale in the Capital. It's just something I had on hand." 

"Nice," Ellie grinned. 

"Now, we just spray it on the sled and ...voila." 

"It's not gonna look too obvious, right?" 

"Don't worry," Olivia said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "He won't know until he's already halfway down the hill.... and by then, it will be too late." 

"Perfect," Ellie said, clapping her hands together. 

"Now, we go over the plan again." 

"Exactly, good thinking." Olivia nodded. 

"And if it works, we get to win the bet with uncle Leo and uncle Drake? And they will have to be our personal butlers for a week?

"Yup." 

"But Uncle Drake and Uncle Leo will hate us forever." 

"Oh ... not forever," Olivia chuckled. "Just until the next competition. And they won't win that either. They will not be pleased." 

"This is mean." 

"It's a bit mean," Olivia cackled. 

"But I still think it's a great idea." 

"Good. Now, let's go over the plan again." 

❄️❄️❄️

As Liam, Leo and Alex was returning to the keep, the sun was setting and snow was falling gently from the sky. Riley and the kids were standing on the balcony of the grand suite, waiting for their arrival. 

"Look, boys," Riley said, pointing down the path. "There they are." 

"Where?" Stefan asked. 

"Right there." 

"Daddy!" William yelled. 

Liam looked up, waving to them. Riley and the kids waved back, the kids jumping up and down. 

"Daddy, Daddy!" They shouted. 

Liam walked noticeably faster, the other adults quickening their pace to keep up. He made it to the stairs, climbing them two steps at a time. Once he reached the top, the boys ran and leapt into his arms, hugging him tightly. 

"Hi, Daddy," Stefan said. 

"Hi, boys," Liam chuckled. "Have you been good?" 

"Uh-huh." 

"Yeah, Daddy." 

"I'm so glad." 

"Did you have fun, Dad?" Riley asked, leaning against the rail. 

"I did," he said, nodding. "Leo almost fell off a tree, but other than that, we had a lot of fun." 

"Uncle Leo almost fell?" 

"Yeah." 

"That's hilarious!" 

"You're telling me." 

"Come on, boys," Riley said. "Let's give your father a break and get him some hot chocolate." 

"Hot chocolate!" They yelled, running down the hall. 

"Ahhhh ... there is my beautiful bride." Liam placed a sweet kiss on her cheek as Riley wrapped her arms around his neck. 

"I can't believe this will be our first year spending the holidays here since after our wedding ... and that was our first holiday as a married couple." 

"What special traditions will you make this year, love." Liam wrapped his arms around her waist. 

"I'm ready to make some new traditions with you." 

"Oh yeah, I can't wait, love. So, what did you and the twins do while we were gone?" Liam asked. 

"Went ice skating." Riley grinned.

"Oh really?" 

"Maxwell taught the boys how to skate," Riley said. "He kept them occupied while Amalas, Hana and I had some girl time." 

"Sounds like fun." 

"It was. How was your time with the other men?" 

"It was interesting," Liam chuckled. "Alex and Leo tried to make a tree fort, but Alex fell through the roof." 

"Wow." 

"Yeah." 

"So," she said, stepping closer to him. "Did you bring home the prize?" 

"We did," he nodded. "A 20 foot talon tree." 

"Excellent." 

"Mm-hm," he murmured, leaning forward and kissing her. 

"Come on," Riley said, taking his hand and pulling him to the hall. "Let's get you warmed up. I have a surprise for you." 

"Ooh, what is it?" 

"If I tell you, it's not a surprise, your Majesty." 

"Fair point," Liam chuckled, following her down the grand staircase. 

Once they were in the kitchen, Liam's eyes landed on the counter. 

"Is that...?" 

"Baklava," Riley said matter of factly. 

"Really?" 

"Really," she nodded and smiled coyly. "Made it this morning. Our new holiday tradition: freshly baked, homemade baklava." 

"Oh, baby, you are the best," Liam sighed. 

"I know," Riley giggled. 

"Mom!" 

Riley turned and saw her sons walking into the room. 

"Daddy, do you want to come sledding with us?" William asked. 

"Can't," Liam said, picking up a slice of baklava. "I've got business to take care of." 

"Oh, please," Riley said, looking up at him. "Come play with us." 

"You don't have to convince me," he chuckled, popping another bite into his mouth. 

"Yay! Come on, Daddy!" 

"Ok, ok," Liam laughed. 

They put their jackets and boots on and walked outside. 

Olivia, Ellie, Micaela and Alex were standing on top of a snow hill planning the race, surrounded by lots of freshly fallen snow. Drake, Maxwell, Hana Delaney, were chatting and drinking Lythikos nog. Leo and Amalas met Liam, Riley, William and Stefan to take them to watch the race.

"Are you ready?" Olivia called, looking down the hill. 

"Bring it!" Drake yelled. 

"Oh, you're gonna get it!" Ellie shouted. 

"Alright, let's start this," Maxwell said, clapping his hands. 

"Who's racing?" Maxwell asked. 

"Me, you, Auntie Laney, and Uncle Drake," Ellie said, hopping up and down. 

"Oh," Maxwell said. "Then it's three against one." 

"Yeah," Olivia smirked. "I'm rooting for my niece." 

"Same here," Amalas chuckled. 

"Oh, boy," Maxwell groaned. 

"You've got this, Ellie!" Micaela cheered. 

"We'll win this," Delaney said. 

"Suurre, you will," Drake said. 

"Oh, we will," Ellie countered, nodding. 

Alex placed the circular discs in a line, 10 feet apart for Ellie, Maxwell, Drake, and Delaney.

Olivia and Ellie looked at each other, smirking. 

"On your mark," Alex said, "Get set. Goooooo!" 

They pushed their sleds down the hill, the cold air hitting their faces. Olivia looked over and saw Maxwell's sled was flying down the hill, far ahead of the others. She and Ellie looked at each other, laughing. 

"He's gonna crash," Ellie said. 

"He's not gonna stop," Olivia chuckled. 

"You're right," she sighed. "He's gonna wipe out." 

"Hopefully he'll learn his lesson." 

"What lesson?" 

"Never bet against us," Olivia smirked. 

"Yeah," Ellie chuckled. 

As they neared the bottom of the hill, Olivia saw Maxwell's sled skid off the side, sending him flying into the air.

Maxwell was having a blast, the speed at which he was barreling down the hill was exhilarating.

"Woo-hoo!" He yelled. "I'm flying!" 

"Not for long!" Ellie laughed. 

"Huh?" 

Suddenly, Maxwell's sled flew off the side, sending him tumbling into a snowbank. 

"Maxwell!" Riley cried out, running to him. 

"Ouch," he groaned. 

"What happened?" Liam asked. 

"I don't know. My sled just shot off the hill." 

"He's fine," Riley said. "I'm sure it's not the end of the world." 

"Yeah," Maxwell nodded. 

"Oh, man," Ellie chuckled, nudging Olivia. "Good thing they can't prove anything." 

"I agree," Olivia whispered. 

"You are a bad influence, Liv" Riley said, noticing their devious expressions 

"Maybe." 

"Alright," Drake said, stepping next to the snowbank. "Who wants a turn?" 

"I do!" Ellie cried, leaping into the snow. 

Liam stepped up and stopped his daughter from lifting the fast disc.

"Ellie, hold on a second," Liam said calmly. 

"Why, Daddy?" 

"Because that's not a toy, and it's dangerous." 

"I can handle it," Ellie said. 

"You need to be careful." 

"I will be." 

"No, Ellie. Just use the slower sled." 

"But-" 

"I won't tell you again." 

"Fiiinne," Ellie groaned, trudging over to the slower sled. 

"You know, Li, you never used to be so strict," Leo said, stepping next to him. 

"Well, times have changed." 

"True." 

"I can't risk her getting hurt." 

"Of course not," Leo nodded. "But she's your daughter. She's gonna want to try new things and get out of her comfort zone." 

"I'm aware." 

"So maybe let her have a little more freedom. It's not going to kill her." 

"I'll think about it." 

"Good. But remember, we did a lot of stuff we shouldn't have when we were kids." 

"Exactly.” 

@choicesficwriterscreations @choicescommunityevents @kingliamappreciationweek @choicesholidays @choicesmonthlychallenge @choicesdecember2024 @choicesprompts

📌tags in the comments

[copinghex]

Fool's gold | T.S

Summary: Eleanor welcomes Tommy back home, but the man who returns isn't the same who left.

A/N: For Christmas, I decided to gift myself bringing Eleanor back :) Is this a series? I'd rather say no. It is shaped like one, but it's totally up to my brain if it's continued or not and we know how it's like. Anyway, I hope you like it!!

NEXT CHAPTER

Chapter 1: Lots of love, Thomas Shelby.

Eleanor woke up in a bedroom that wasn't hers. Looking superficially, anyone would guess the room belonged to a woman, her hygiene products, make-up and clothes occupied the room while her thin body rested on the bed.

She sat up, rubbing her eyes and heavily sighing. That day, the bedroom's owner would return, the coldness of his last letter haunted her. If he couldn’t say he missed her, he surely wouldn't want her in his house.

Walking to the small mirror in the wall, she ran a hand through her messy hair, usually she made a braid before sleep, moisturizing with cream borrowed from Polly so the curls would look nice in the morning. Last night she didn't have a mind for it.

All she thought about were the things she wanted to do to him, kiss him, hold him, cook for him, talk to him or just watch him from close. After so long apart, she yearned to feel his warmth again.

Peeking at the bed table, at an old picture they took together, Eleanor gulped, his signature was simple yet tender. Lots of love, Thomas Shelby, she feared the Thomas to return wouldn't hold such fondness of her.

Changing off her nightgown, she grouped all her belongings into a corner to make it less obvious that she took over his room. The bed was perfectly made and she sprinkled some of his cologne at the mattress so it'd smell like him, although mostly smelled like alcohol.

Before she entered the kitchen, incessant talking was heard, Katie, Maria, George and Pearl chattered over every single aspect of their young lives. Sat still, Ada sipped on her tea, ignoring John's horde of children.

“Morning,” Eleanor watched today's newspaper burning in the fireplace, “where's Polly?”

“Praying,” Ada filled her mouth with bread, “and Finn isn't up yet,”

Eleanor quietly huffed, in the first months of war she accompanied Polly in her morning prayers, as time went by and the radio announced ten thousand men died per day, she lost faith God would actually help those poor souls, seeing old colleagues wearing all black in the streets didn't help either.

The scent of herbal tea traveled to her nostrils as she poured herself a cup. She missed the coffee Tommy made when she stayed for the night, she slept almost on top of him, using his chest to support a book. Tommy enjoyed Wuthering heights, Pride and prejudice not so much.

In the next minute, she stood next to Polly in the living room, in respectful silence until the prayers were done, “You shouldn't have stopped, you used to smile more,”

Eleanor blinked, she wasn't an atheist, their prayers weren't insignificant poems told to the walls, she believed they were purposely ignored, “What will we do today?”

“The whole Small Heath will be at the station, so will we,”

“I thought, maybe we should make a special dinner, or get something expensive from the Garrison,”

Polly's eyes drifted away while she considered the idea, lately she spent so long at the betting shop she almost forgot how to welcome men home. Her days as bookmaker were counted and warming up to chores again wouldn’t do harm, even if she’d never be fully a housewife.

“They’ll be back around three, if I clean, can you cook?”

With agreeable nods, they went to the kitchen. Six hours later, the house was spotless and the table set. Each woman was in a bedroom, making themselves presentable.

Some colognes were overpriced even if destined for the working class, Eleanor had one of these, eight crochet coats had to be sold until she had enough money to buy it, her hands nearly fell off during crafting, but it was worthy, because she got a compliment every time she wore it.

In her best dress, shoes and hat, she didn’t feel alright, she wasn’t going to a party or a fancy social occasion, she’d meet Tommy and his brothers. Biting her lip in anxiety, she changed into a white dress and red wool coat matching her shoes. She felt better looking clean and proper, not a beauty queen from a magazine.

The walk to the train station was fast and silent, the children had to be held tightly by the hand so they wouldn’t run ahead. Many families still waited for their soldiers, all benches were full and Ada’s feet hurt from standing in such high heels.

The first to show up was John, he didn’t have time to approach the family since his children found him first, shouting and running through the crowd to catch him in a big hug. Arthur and Tommy showed up together, walking slowly in their worn out uniforms.

Arthur got his aunt and sister on each arm, leaving Eleanor to Tommy. There he stood, his once warm eyes looked hollow, combative even, his freckled face covered by a layer of sweat and his hair slighly disheveled, although combed with gel.

Breathing heavily, her body froze, shook and threw itself at him. Both arms wrapped around his neck, Tommy’s hands rested on the small of her back, he held her like she was the last floater in a shipwreck, an essential survival item, she held him like a porcelain vase, a fragile ornament she feared to break.

Tears from her eyes were immediately reprimanded, she breathed in and out at slow pace, brushing her face on his shoulder, it was a happy occasion, she’d hate to ruin it with pointless crying. Her hands ran up and down his back, some of the ribs that could previously be felt were replaced by strong muscle and when she finally lifted her head, Tommy's eyes held something she couldn't quite point out.

Eleanor cupped his face, tracing his cheekbones and the wrinkles around his eyes, he looked exhausted and yet, still dashingly handsome, a weak smile got to her face as she felt her increasing heartbeat, after all this time, being face to face with him still gave her butterflies.

At last, she gently pecked his lips, Tommy barely moved, closing his eyes and letting himself be kissed. His hands hadn't moved from her back yet and only did when John called for them, “Oi! Lovebirds! Keep it until we're home, yeah?”

Turning around, Eleanor bit her bottom lip to suppress a big smile, “And how is my favorite corporal going?”

It was hard to hug John with a kid still holding onto his leg, but it didn't stop him from lifting her up. Laughing, she didn't notice Tommy squinting his eyes, John quickly put her back down, awkwardly squeezing her shoulder.

“And you?” she asked Arthur, “No hug for me?”

“Yeah, how are you, sister?” Arthur's chin rested on top of her head while his arms wrapped around her shoulders.

“Alright,” Polly said, her eye make-up smudged, “let's go home now,”

Eleanor ran to hold Tommy's hand. Walking behind the rest, tension formed between them, as if they had nothing left to say, there were no words for the hole in her chest that only his presence filled, nor for the piece of his brain the war had rotten.

“Tommy!” someone called, the whole family looked back and Ada ran ahead to Freddie Thorne's arms.

Tommy stopped, dropping Eleanor's hand and waiting until Freddie approached with Ada on his arm, “Didn't see you in the train,”

“Got into a distant wagon,”

“Yeah,” he eyed Eleanor, “I remember you, it's- Hm-”

“Eleanor, I'm glad to see you're alright,”

“You should have dinner with us, I'm sure there's enough for everyone,” Ada suggested to Freddie.

“Oh, there are some comrades waiting for me at the Black Swan, we'll drink a last one all together,” he dismissed, “join us, Tommy?”

“Yeah, of course,”

Freddie affectionately patted Ada's head before walking away, Tommy didn't bother looking back. There Eleanor stood, trembling lips and watery eyes.

He didn't come back to dinner and she only saw him again the next morning.

[kingliamappreciationweek]

KLAW 2024 - Masterlist

KLAW 2022 | KLAW 2023 Part 1, 2, 3

DAY 1 - BAKLAVA/THROWBACK

Baklava

Art

Baklava by @sazanes

Fanfic

Baklava by @madamealien

Ways to A King's Heart by @lorirwritesfanfic

Bedtime Baklava by @lizzybeth1986

Throwback

Fanfic

Chapter 14: Make You Mine from Turning the Page by @tessa-liam (ft. art commission by artbyainna)

Part 1 of Rainy Days by @missameliep

Family Addition by @lorirwritesfanfic

Chapter 1: The Statues of Legacies by @lizzybeth1986

Chapter 4: Garídes Saganáki from Eleanor's Kitchen by @lizzybeth1986

Estranged by @twinkleallnight

The Start of Forever by @liaromancewriter

Three Princes Walk Into A Bar by @thosehallowedhalls

Undone by @dcbbw

Backstory: The Briefcase by @dcbbw

Video Edit

Once Upon A Time... by @ao719 (recommended by @kristinamae093)

DAY 2: VANILLA/CHARACTER APPRECIATION

Character Appreciation

Art

King "Liam" x Iara by @lilyoffandoms

Commissions

King Liam by @bayleedraws-sometimesx (commissioned for @angelasscribbles "Dark Elf" series)

Fencing by @sazanes

Fanfic

O Bom Nom do Rei de Cordonia by @madamealien

Chapter 9: Acts of Defiance from Forevermore by @khoicesbyk

Part 1 & Part 2 of Heartstopper by @katedrakeohd

Headcanon

Character Profile: Liam Rys by @lorirwritesfanfic

Vanilla

Fanfic

Part 5 of Estranged by @twinkleallnight

Commissions

Shower (🍋) by @pilitella (commisioned by @tessa-liam)

DAY 3: ROSES/MONUMENTS

Roses

Art

The Royal Wedding by @lilyoffandoms

Juliet Rose by @sazanes

Edit

Liam with a Bouquet of Roses by @angelasscribbles

Fanfic

Rosas de Aniversário by @madamealien

Fallen Petals by @lorirwritesfanfic

Video Edit

When Liam Sings for You by @twinkleallnight

Monuments

Art

Commissions

Pont des Arts, "Lovelock Bridge", Paris, France by artbyainna, for Chapter 15: Bridge of Dreams of Turning the Page by @tessa-liam

Moodboard

The Cordonian Royal Palace by @angelasscribbles

Applewood by @angelasscribbles

DAY 4: RELATIONSHIPS/COFFEE

Relationships

Art

King "Liam" x Iara by @lilyoffandoms

King "Liam" x Iara: Wedding by @lilyoffandoms

Edit

Riley and Liam's Wedding by @aussiegurl1234 (recommended by @angelasscribbles)

Fanfic

To Catch A Killer from The Defiant King by @angelasscribbles

Chapter 2: The Dark Lord from The Dark Kingdom by @angelasscribbles

Chapter 10: Dèja Vu from Forevermore by @khoicesbyk

Break - Part I by @lorirwritesfanfic

Estranged - Part 3 by @twinkleallnight

Coffee

Fanfic

Água de Lava-Louças by @madamealien

Pause for Coffee by @lorirwritesfanfic

Moodboard

Liam, Coffee and Coasters by @lizzybeth1986

DAY 5: HEALING

Fanfic

Lírio e Mogno by @madamealien

Brothers-in-Arms (WIP) by @tessa-liam (ft. commissioned artwork by artbyainna)

Part 3 of Estranged by @twinkleallnight

--

This is an amazing masterlist of pieces, with incredible variety, and we can guarantee you will enjoy each of these pieces!

As always, this masterlist will be open to entries all the way into the next KLAW event! Be sure to send in stuff whenever you'd like (and here are the themes!)

[eadanga]

Royal Love Part 21

Summary: Now 18 Eleanor heads to her first year of college and falls for a handsome musician. Can she keep her royal secret be with her true love?

A/N: This series is for @kingliam2019 one of my 500 followers giveaway winners

Eleanor came back from the party and laid on her bed she cried into her pillow I can’t believe this. A knock came at the door “Elle you left the party in tears what happened can I come in?”

“Yeah sure”

She opens the door and sits down beside her “Did you tell him about?”

“Yeah I did”

“What happened?”

“He said he needs to think about it you know what that means”

“It means give him time”

“Forget it it’s over you should have seen his face”

“No you can’t think like that”

Eleanor sighs “Can I get a moment please?”

Marissa nods “You know where to find me” She leaves the room

Eleanor clutches her pillow as she feels an ache in her chest taking a deep breath she dials her dad

“Hi my princess what’s?”

“Dad I…” She takes a deep breath “I told Cole everything”

Liam pauses before he answers “How did he take it?”

“Said he needed to think about it but the look he had on his face I don’t know dad it…may be over”

Liam pauses again then speaks “I’m flying over”

“Dad you don’t”

“Please I need to be there for you it breaks my heart to know you’re in pain and I’m not there to help you”

Eleanor gives a small smile “Ok dad”

“I’ll be over tomorrow princess”

****

Eleanor awakens the next day to smell of pancakes, eggs and bacon What is she walks out her room and sees her dad and Marissa in the kitchen

“Wow the king can make some food? Don’t you have servants for that though?”

Liam chuckles as he sets the kettle to boil “I may be king but I’m a regular guy like everyone else”

“That is true”

“Dad how’d you get in here?”

“I’m a master a disguise”

Marissa giggles “He means I helped him”

Liam chuckles “She did indeed”

Eleanor giggles then goes to hug Liam “I’m glad you’re here”

Liam tightens his arms around her “Me too now hurry and eat and get dressed”

“Why? Where are we going?”

“You’ll see” He hands her a plate “Eat up I’ll be waiting by the car”

Eleanor smiles as she digs into her breakfast then heads to get dressed She heads out and sees Liam waving next to a black tinted car. He holds the door open for her “Shall we?”

Eleanor grins then heads to the car and they drive in a comfortable silence before Eleanor breaks it “Where are we going dad?”

“To a very special place” The car stops and Eleanor looks in confusion

“Dad what is this place?”

“It’s where I met your mother”

“You met mom here?”

Liam nods “Yup your uncle Drake took me out for a little party because it was the social season and soon I was to pick a bride I wasn’t having fun cause all I could think about was how I had to be engage to someone by the end of year someone I wasn’t gonna love I was dreading heading back home”

“What happened?”

“We stopped by this bar and I went to take a call but when I came back I saw the most beautiful woman”

Eleanor grins “Mom?”

“Oh yes even in her waitress uniform her beauty outshined everything”

Eleanor giggles “Then what happened?”

“You’re about to find out” He takes her hand and guides her down the street to a club “This is where she took us next so we could have some fun and we talked then she something spontaneous for me” He takes her hand and guides her to a bridge

Eleanor grins “Is that the Statue of Liberty?”

Liam nods “She called in a favor and had a boat ride around it and speaking of here comes our boat now”

Eleanor grins “Dad you didn’t have to do all this”

“That smile on your face is worth it my princess now let’s board” They head on the boat and get close to the statue “And this is where I asked her to marry me imagine my joy when she said yes”

“You’re love story is so sweet”

“It is and so will yours”

Eleanor sighs “But what if he rejects me?”

“Then that’s his loss forget doesn’t mean anything is wrong with you”

Eleanor smiles “I know I just starting to fall for him and I can’t help”

Liam places a hand on her shoulder “I know you can’t just turn off your feelings but like I told you before if he truly loves you he’ll accept you as you are”

“Like how you fell for mom?”

“I know she had a difficult time during the social season but I didn’t care where she came from I love her all the same”

Eleanor grins “Thanks dad you’re the best”

“Anytime my princess now shall we get some lunch?”

“Did you make it?”

“I was thinking we can go to a restaurant”

Eleanor grins “No I want you to make it”

Liam chuckles “Ok let’s head to the store and decide what to make”

Tags: @choicesgodfanatic @indiacater @the-soot-sprite @princess-geek @iaminlovewithtrr @gkittylove99 @twinkleallnight @kingliam2019

[choicesficwriterscreations]

November Creator of the Month: Lizzybeth1986

Each month CFWC highlights one of our talented fanfic writers, and this month’s writer of the month is @lizzybeth1986 We hope you will enjoy learning more about them and their work below! The writer is selected at random. More info can be found on the navigation page.

Quick Links:

Tumblr Blog: Blog Masterlist

How do you want to be known on Tumblr?

Lizzy, absolutely 😁

*Center art by @sazanes

More below...

When did you start playing Choices? What was the first book you played?

I started playing mid 2017, I think. I played the flagship books (TF, TCaTF, MW), and def preferred TF at the time.

When and why did you join Choices fandom?

I joined the Tumblr fandom in 2017, around the time of the TRR finale. Mostly because the Liam hate at the time was intense and I wanted to write metas about why Liam was, in fact, not “a dick who betrayed the MC” 😂

I did have a Tumblr account before that (made it in 2015 to follow Bollywood film posts), but never actually used it.

How did you pick your blog name?

I was lazy af so it was my middle name plus my birth year haha

Pull up the first post in your archive, and tell us about it! 

I started out with a couple reblogs, but my first actual post was about the romance points mechanism in TRR1. There was a point in the middle of the book where one nice word to Drake would give you an automatic romance point, and I was like, “Huh??? Either treat him like shit or risk him catching feels for me? Is that how it is???”. Thankfully, that stopped after two chapters. After that, I did an essay series analyzing Liam’s actions in the finale called “The Crown, The King and The Flame.” Romance Points Post The Crown and the Flame

How long have you been writing fanfiction?

Almost 6 years now! I started doing Liam fics around the beginning of TRR2.

What is your favorite Choices book, and what is your favorite Choices book to write about?

I’m the most invested in TRR and PM, but between the two I’d probably say PM is my fave book overall. But yeah, my favourite book to write about would be TRR, because Liam, Hana and Kiara are such fantastic characters to write about! (Hayden and Sloane, too, but I’m still in the process of getting comfortable writing them).

Share the first fanfic you wrote with us. Do you still like it, or would you change it if you were writing it today?

It was Keychains, my two part fic series featuring my MC and Liam. It was set around the time the MC was waiting in the airport in TRR2, just before Maxwell and Bertrand intervene. It had a follow up with Liam’s PoV too.

I really like it. It included some really good hc’s I made at the time, like Esther buying an apple keychain to represent Cordonia at the same time, and Liam calling her his wife in Greek and Esther not realizing what the phrase meant. I thought the pathos and slight humour was quite well-done. I can’t think of much I would want to change in the story.

Keychains 1 Keychains 2

What is your favorite fic that you’ve written?

As a series – Eleanor’s Kitchen! It’s ongoing, and it’s a joy to write. I love exploring food from a cultural lens, and since Cordonia was a fictional country, I could explore a variety of ethnicities and food cultures. Liam had a literal diamond scene that explored gastrodiplomacy, and I wanted to explore his childhood and Eleanor’s friendships too.

Individually – I would say my Kiara fic “An Ear to the Ground”. Kiara is a delightful character and exploring the social season through her eyes was a real journey! I also love “The Stars (Are Out Tonight)” which explores the early days of the Sloane & Hayden friendship. I used asterisms and constellations to symbolize moments in their friendship.

Eleanor's Kitchen An Ear to the Ground The Stars (Are Out Tonight)

Do you have a fic that you didn’t expect to be well received, but it was? What about one you expected to be but found could use a little more love?

Cordonian Waltz was definitely a surprise in terms of reception!! It was written in the style of headcanons I was seeing at the time, and I wrote it in second person. It became my most widely-read fanfic very fast, and every once in a while it would experience a major surge in readership. I enjoyed writing it and thought it was a lovely, romantic piece, but I really wasn’t expecting it to finally have 250+ reblogs out of it, and people coming and telling me this was the fic that got them into Liam x MC in the first place. I find that deeply gratifying 😍

There’s a lot of fics that I feel need more engagement and appreciation, but I can understand that those characters also don’t exactly get much of an audience. My entire PM set comes under this category; they typically get low readership. I think my Hana and Kiara fics too could do with more of an audience.

@twinkleallnight once told me that when she reads my stuff, she usually takes a long time just to ruminate on the story, and I like to believe that often, that’s why the engagement isn’t always immediate. Which I like too!! I like that some of my stuff can make people stop and think, and I like to believe that over time, the work will have its own impact.

Cordonian Waltz PM Set

If you could write only angst, fluff, or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

Probably fluff but with a lot of observation and sometimes somber reflections. I’m not that great with angst…and I’ve never actually tried smut? But maybe one day 😄

Do you ever recognize yourself in any of your MCs or in your writing?

Yes! Some of my MCs are v different from me but I always incorporate something from my life experiences in them. Like Esther taking photos of the sunset or Basil not being science oriented but still having an interest in space.

Character wise I find I put a lot of myself into a lot of the characters I write. Notably, Liam, Hana, Kiara, certain Haydens and Sloane. Liam’s love for learning, different aspects of Hana and Kiara’s experiences as queer women, Sloane’s experiences as a neurodivergent woman, and especially my Scholar!Hayden’s (Iris) observations. I tend to incorporate a lot of my feelings and experiences more into certain canonical characters than in MCs.

What element of writing do you struggle with most?

Dialogue, I think. Especially when it’s a character I don’t relate to that much. But also sometimes when it’s a character I love but am only starting to write because then I really overthink it!

Do you have any neglected work you really want to finish?

Hmm…probably neglected wouldn’t be the word I’d use…I just take a very long time to kickstart them 😂

But yeah, definitely my Petals and Thornes series? That’s the fic series I’m doing for Hana x Kiara, that is supposed to explore TRR2 and 3 from their PoV (with significant changes). So far I’ve only been able to do some one-shots and hcs in that universe, but I do want to start the actual series soon!

I have some essay series’ I’d love to work on too! My Hana essay series which has two essays left, The Hayden Young Project, and a possible series on the alternative Lis of TRR!

Petals and Thornes Hana Lee: A Study in Erasure

If someone you know in real life (who isn’t involved in fandoms) asked to read your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you recommend they read first?

Hmm. A few people have asked me, actually, and while I’m not fully opposed to showing them I’ll probably take some time before I do show my work. I’ll probably overthink how much will be understandable to a reader who doesn’t have the context of the source, and what they may not understand.

What to show them first? I’m not sure! Maybe the smaller ones first, like Cordonian Waltz. Or my RCD fic Snowstorms, because it doesn’t have more than 2-3 canon characters featuring and I do talk a little about being a closeted queer teen figuring out their sexuality through cinema, which is an overall relatable experience to some! Snowstorms

Are there any writers (published authors and/or fanfic writers) who influenced your writing?

In my early years I used to emulate Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni’s style. Much of her work that I read as a teen was pretty flowery, sometimes bordering on purple prose, and I really loved that style and tried to go that way. But now I think a variety of writers from different genres inform my writing. In terms of published authors, Jhumpa Lahiri, Helen Hoang, and non-fiction ones like Rukmini Pande, Ruby Hammad and Mikki Kendall.

In Choices fic, @callmetippytumbles for sure – a lot of the questions she was tackling with her MC in her Home series served as inspiration for some of the ideas I’ve been having in mind for Petals and Thornes. @thefirstcourtesan is a great writing buddy to have, too, and she has a knack for saying a lot in very few words! There’s also my amazing group of friends (shoutout to @cassiopeiacorvus, @thecapturedafrique, @mand-delemonde, and @beyonceswigs, as well as @twinkleallnight , @dcbbw @mariemarieohcontrary , @choicesfrog, @grapecaseschoices and @ohsnapitzlovehacker…the discussions are so good and leave some much to think about afterward 💖💖). All these discussions ALWAYS fuel my ideas and make me think out of the box.

I’ve also recently started writing polyamorous characters and relationships, and @angelasscribbles stories and resources have been such a great help in navigating that!

Home

@angelasscribbles Poly Resources

Which one of your stories would you most like to see as a movie/series?

Haha! I’ve not even started the proper series yet but I think Petals and Thornes? But besides that maybe Eleanor’s Kitchen may work as a series idk 😄

Do you write original fiction?

I do try! I’ve done a few short stories but before I started fanfic, I did a lot of spoken word poetry and that was fun.

What other hobbies do you have?

Reading, watching video essays, spending months on hyperfixations 😂 and a little cooking. My kid’s gotten into craft recently and has succeeded in taking me down that rabbit hole too haha.

I used to be into making fruit wines but have gotten inconsistent with that over the years.

What’s your favorite emoji?

Because I have a huuuge thing for nerds – this one: 🤓

BONUS – tell us anything you’d like (if you want to).

A story my mum often tells about how I got into writing, began with some good old-fashioned sibling rivalry. Apparently as a child I was notorious for writing things on the walls of our house. One day my older brother got a hardbound royal-blue covered notebook to write in, with gold lettering on the cover…and I got instantly jealous that I didn’t get one (I was 6 or 7 and already fond of telling stories). When I complained my mum made me a deal – she would get me the same notebook…IF I stopped writing on the walls and began writing in that instead 😂 It worked. My mother is a smart woman.

I love spoilers!! I will read the end of a novel I’m reading and then go back and read the rest. Sometimes I even read books all the way backwards lol.

I love romance, and my favorite tropes include second-chance romance and mutual pining while believing the other person will never love you back! Because, at heart, I’m a dramatic bitch.

[love-little-lotte]

A Look Into My New Guilty Pleasure: Poldark (2015 Series)

My biggest weakness is period dramas — especially period dramas with a talented cast, sweeping romance, terrific scenes (preferably set in some kind of country/provincial side), and lots and lots and lots of just sitting around and talking.

That's probably why Poldark has captured my heart. As a big fan of Outlander, it's no surprise that I fell in love with this show. Outlander and Poldark have so many similarities that I may make a lengthy post about it, but for today, let me just rant about my new guilty pleasure. I'm so obsessed with this show that I actually finished watching the entire five seasons in one week!

Poldark is based on Winston Graham's novels and adapted by Debbie Horsfield. I was so excited to start this show, with a male protagonist originally written by a man, created and written for a series by a woman. I haven't read Graham's novels (I'm going to one of these days, I swear!), so I'm not sure how well Debbie's adaption worked. I've read many Reddit threads, though, and some fans of the novel are not that impressed with how she omitted and added details to the show (will get back to this once I've read the books or at least the seven ones that were used in the show). The show has also been adapted in the 70s, so this was not the first time Graham's novels were seen onscreen!

Despite not having read the books, I fell in love with the story, the characters, and the cast! The show follows Ross Poldark returning to Cornwall after fighting in the American War in the 1780s. He looks forward to marrying his childhood sweetheart Elizabeth but, believing him to be dead, is now engaged to his cousin Francis. He then tries to resurrect his family's mining business and hires a young girl Demelza to be his kitchen maid (whom he eventually marries) while also crossing paths with the villain George Warleggan, a corrupted banker who stops at nothing to ruin Ross's prospects and personal life. As the show progresses, we also meet other characters, including Prudie and Jud, Ross's servants, Verity, Ross's cousin and Francis's sister; Ross's friend Dr. Dwight Enys and his love interest Caroline Penvenen; Sam and Drake Carne, Demelza's brothers, and Morwenna Chynoweth, Drake's love interest.

Yes, this show has a large ensemble cast, and trust me, there always comes a point when you hate or love them. Especially our protagonist Ross Poldark. Ross... is an interesting character. He's terribly, terribly flawed and many times times, I'm so infuriated with him to the point that I want him to suffer. I swear, you cannot go through this series without screaming at Ross. (When that moment came up in Season 2, I swear I had my middle finger ready every time Ross showed up on my screen from then on.)

But my favorite character in the show is Demelza, Ross's wife who started as his kitchen maid. She's the heart of the show, the voice of reason, and even though she makes questionable decisions along the way, you can't help but get on her side no matter what. She's the perfect fiery yet gentle match to Ross's stubbornness. He treats her like shit many times in this show, which makes me angry to no end, but they eventually grow to be understanding, loving partners.

And it also helps that Aidan Turner and Eleanor Tomlinson have one of the best romantic chemistries I've ever seen. They're terrific actors as well and they bring the characters to life so effortlessly. They just seem like they have the best time shooting this show. I kind of want to rewatch Loving Vincent now just because they're in that movie, even just in supporting roles.

Poldark is a roller coaster, with so many ups and downs (mostly downs, to be honest, please give Demelza a break!) My favorite season has got to be Season 1. Season 1 had the best Ross and I loved the early stages of his relationship with Demelza. It also has my favorite episode: Season 1, Episode 8. That episode broke me so much, thanks to Aidan and Eleanor's perfect performances. It's the only time I ever cried watching this show. I usually cry in period dramas (I've cried countless times in Outlander and Downton Abbey), but for some reason, I only cried once in Poldark. Most of the time, I'm annoyed and infuriated (hahaha but I still love it!)

The romance in Poldark is also quite unique, something I haven't seen before. Ross and Demelza emotionally hurt each other many times in this show, and they don't have the best communication. It's not an ideal marriage, but that's what makes it so raw and real. It hurts when Ross sleeps with his first love Elizabeth or when Demelza falls for the much-sensitive Hugh Armitage, but these are challenges people face all the time, and it's interesting to view it in characters and circumstances through 18th-century lenses. Plus, it can be very tiring to see perfect couples onscreen all the time. So watching Ross and Demelza's relationship thrive, suffer, and reconcile is very refreshing to me.

Nevertheless, Ross and Demelza are still able to work together. Seasons 2 and 3 showcase the worst moments of their marriage, from infidelities to insecurity, but the love between them still perseveres and they learn to forgive. In the end, they realize that they belong together.

And despite the unconventional marriage, Poldark is not a stranger to grand romantic gestures. Two of my favorite Ross and Demelza moments occur in Season 2:

A real funny, old-married-couple type of bicker in The Beach Scene:

And of course, showing all intimacy in The Stocking Scene:

(Let's just not talk about what happened 2 episodes after this!)

The romance in Poldark not only ends with Ross and Demelza. We also got two really good couples in the series: Dwight and Caroline and Drake and Morwenna.

And these love stories don't just happen! They're fleshed-out characters with proper backgrounds and their own problems, especially Drake and Morwenna's relationship. Morwenna is one of my favorite characters, and she doesn't deserve all the shit thrown at her. The last season of Poldark is not the best (bordering on bad, actually, especially the last two episodes), but watching Drake and Morwenna get their happy ending is worth it.

Finishing all five seasons is bittersweet. I enjoyed most of the story and fell in love with different characters. I kind of regret watching everything in one week haha. But what can I say? As soon as I finish each episode, I'm so tempted to start another episode. I think the last time I stayed up until 5 AM the next morning to watch TV shows was Yellowjackets. Poldark's just too good to binge! It's one of my favorite TV shows now. Maybe I'll watch Sanditon next...

I want to write more about Poldark soon, maybe a comparison with Outlander or maybe just a post about each character. I realized I hadn't talked much about Elizabeth, Francis, and George in this post; I was too preoccupied with the love story aspects and Ross and Demelza. We'll see!

[maximumwobblerbanditdonut]

Had you played TV cliché bingo while watching The Couple Next Door, I do believe sparks would have been flying from your dabber. I’m almost in awe that so many were crammed in before the first ad break alone. Barely seven minutes in, Becka (Jessica De Gouw) and Danny (Sam Heughan) were pulling each other’s clothes off and having sex at their living room window, curtains open, in a way that no married couple whose small child has just left the room ever do. Except in TV La-La land.

It was a bonus, though, for Alan the Pervert (Hugh Dennis), who has a telescope trained on their house and dark circles under his eyes that suggest he does a lot of squinting while hunched over his computer (and I don’t mean at Wordle).

I suppose at least this drama owns its clichés. What am I saying? It revels in them. It opened with the classic taster of horror to come, Eleanor Tomlinson as Evie running in what we shall call TV’s “sexy terrified” way. That is, frightened but looking hot, hot, hot in a short silk nightie as she ran barefoot through a forest. We then flipped back in time to Evie and Pete (Alfred Enoch) happily arriving at their new suburban idyll to start their family, which was a sort of sunny Wisteria Lane and not at all like the Leeds I remember from when I lived there.

It told us everything was too smug to be true by having laughing children playing with water guns, lawns being mowed, cars being washed. Uh-oh. We know that can’t last. And it didn’t. Evie miscarried her baby (conceived with a donor because Pete has “puny sperm”) by minute 16. I have a terrible feeling that the koi carp in the garden are some sort of “swimmers” metaphor.

Sometimes the dialogue was so stilted, I wondered if it was a spoof. “You guys will get through this,” Danny said to Pete, who should really have responded by asking if he was a chatbot. It soon transpired that Danny and Becka were swingers (it’s based on a Dutch series called, yes, The Swingers) and they promptly had “that couple we met in Marbella” round for some wife swapping as Pete watched from his window. Has anyone in this street ever considered closing a blind? And, actually, aren’t they “the couple opposite”, not “next door”?

There’s a dull subplot about Danny being a dodgy copper, which ties in to a dull investigation that local journalist Pete wants to look into, but his editor wants him to cover the opening of a new city library. A new library? Pull the other one. The UK has closed about 800 of them in the past decade.

At least Evie cheered up when she got Danny’s powerful beast between her legs. Oh, I mean his motorbike, though it’s obvious it won’t be long before the other beast comes into play. I feared we might get to the end of the episode without it committing the top TV cliché on the bingo card, namely spontaneous sex on a kitchen worktop. But, no. Evie and Pete gave us a full house by doing exactly that — and during a storm for added cheesiness.

These couples are as wooden as Dutch clogs, but I am enjoying Dennis’s greasy performance as the disgusting stalker who pretends to like yoga so he can be near Becka. I must warn you that later in the series it’s traumatic to see the man who played the nice dad in Outnumbered masturbating. I must also warn you that episode two contains some of the worst cringey couple dancing you are likely to witness in your lifetime. I think the moral of this silly but entertainingly corny tale is going to be: “Don’t shag the neighbours.”

thetimes.co.uk

Carol Midgley joined The Times in 1996 and is a former Feature Writer of the Year winner. Find her column in Times 2 each Wednesday and her TV reviews on Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays.

————————————————————————

Indeed I saw all the reviews after the streaming view, including all episodes. The Times’ review concretes many things about The Couple Next Door 💁‍♀️

[lizzybeth1986]

So while I'm still working on my Day 3 entry for KLAW (I'm just going to call it "The Bread Fic" for now), I thought I'd introduce 2 OCs that I've created specifically for this fic.

It's a mini fic in the "Eleanor's Kitchen" series, that follows Liam and his mum and their friends through many culinary adventures!!

The mini-fic (which I'm still writing haha) will focus on Liam's bond with the two head palace chefs, Chef Anais Martí and Pastry Chef Hitoshi Luno. I hope to get that fic out soon but in the meantime, here are some HCs!!

Chef Anais Martí

(FC: Concha Buika)

• Head Chef of the Royal Palace of Cordonia

• Runs her kitchen like a well-oiled machine

• I mean seriously, kings and queens may come and go in the throne room, but the Palace Kitchens are her kingdom and she will never let you forget that!! Especially if you're royalty!

• She hails from Emeric, a county in the Foundries that houses a substantial Catalan-Spanish population who migrated there in the 1700s. It is said that the Foundaries overall are the one place in Cordonia that have mastered molecular gastronomy, but Emeric has chefs that do both that and some rustic homestyle cooking too.

• Anais is very good at molecular gastronomy. She just won't do it.

• A lot of her signature dishes have an Afro-Catalan influence.

• She worked as a line cook in one of the Capitol's premier restaurants when she was very young, and worked her way up. Word of her incredible chef skills and versatility made her a favourite choice to head the palace kitchens when the former Head Chef had to retire. Prince Constantine was in his late teens then.

• She has very few memories of Queen Agnes, Leo's mother, because she seemed uncomfortable with anyone in the palace in the brief time she was there. Queen Eleanor and Queen Regina are perfect contrasts to that in different ways - Eleanor was very involved and would chat often with Anais - in fact the suggestion for a private kitchen came from Anais because honestly - she could see the passion in Eleanor for cooking and released she needed her own space. Queen Regina she values because she gets involved the way you would expect a queen to be involved, and also trusts Anais' judgement.

• Undoubtedly she has the softest soft spot for Prince Liam, since the moment he stole a slice of wedding cake to give to his brother during a punishment.

Pastry Chef Hitoshi Luno

• Compared to Anais, Hitoshi is a more recent addition to the Palace Kitchens.

• He hails from the Fire Tribes. They have a strong connection to different cultures - Japanese, Romani and at a later stage, Ethiopian. The first and the last also have connections to volcanoes which helped them assimilate into the Fire Tribes better.

• An ancestor of his IS Anton Luno.

• And like this ancestor - he is dumbfounded by the greasiness of some of the food from the Capitol, but has to admit it is addictive.

• His Japanese origins do show a lot in his baking!

• No one crazier for red bean paste in Cordonia than Hitoshi Luno! Surprisingly, his preparations have gotten Constantine to love it and to demand delicacies made from it every day.

• The Fire Tribes were well known for their hunting and cooking with game meat. But there is a section of people who have developed cuisines and culinary knowledge from the people who have migrated there in the latter centuries. Ethiopian honey wine, for instance, took a while to gain any popularity in the province because the inhabitants deemed it too sweet, but they grew to love it. Hitoshi's mother brews some every Christmas.

• When he found out about Lady Hana's love for tea - and knowing she was just (symbolically) disowned from her home - he sent across a sumptuous green tea and honey ice cream "with compliments from the chef". He knows via secondhand information that the teas she has tried are mostly Chinese, but she did like some of the matcha themed stuff the kitchen put out!

• Anais mothered him literally from the minute they were introduced, and it has stayed that way ever since. Hitoshi has caught himself complaining "Maaa! Not in front of the staff!!" several times.

[wandafiction]

Can't Catch A Break - Just Us Chapter 96

Warnings: None

Word Count: 5498

Series List | Chapter 95 | Chapter 97

================================

"We brought cupcakes!" I shout through the cabin as I stamp my feet on the floor to clear the snow off my boots, turning around to see Wanda closing the door behind us. 

"Are you sure you didn't make babies?" I hear Kate shout back and I hear Wanda choke on air behind me.

"Why would they be? Ew! No, no no no! My brain has been scarred!" I hear one of the boys shout and me and Wanda look at one another both as pale as the other.

"Kate!" I shout back, shaking my head to try and get the color back in my face.

"Sorry!"

"Say that to me, not to them! Oh the images you have planted!" I see Tommy walking out of the back room, with a sheepish looking Kate, as he rubs at his temples. 

"Sorry everyone?" Kate squeaks as I hand the cupcakes off to Wanda quickly taking my boots off and sprint towards her.

"Ah, no! I said I'm sorry!" Kate hides behind Tommy who grumbles about being used as a human shield, but I stop my chase not wanting to hurt him while I beat Kate up. 

"Tommy, it's okay. Let's just go pour bleach in our eyes." Billy joins them dragging his brother towards Wanda. 

"Please don't hurt me." Kate squeaks out and I stomp my foot on the floor making her run towards the boys and Wanda.

"Stop right there missy." Wanda's head tilts and Kate stops in her tracks.

"I'm sorry, okay. I forgot the boys were here for a second." Her head whips back and forth between me and Wanda.

"Fine, okay. Just please watch what you say around them next time, please." Wanda sighs in defeat, rubbing the bridge of her nose. 

"Sorry Wanda. Do you want me to take the cupcakes?" Kate asks softly, trying not to make the Sokovian mad, as I slowly make my way to her side. 

"Sure. Boys why don't you go get a cupcake for yourself before dinner." Kate grabs the cupcakes without another word and the boys both nod, following Kate into the kitchen.

"It's okay princess. No need to stress, just breathe." I rub my hands up and down the outside of her arms, as she releases a sharp breath.

"I know, I know. I just didn't want them to know." I smile down at her as she rests her forehead against my chest.

"They are teenagers princess, they aren't stupid. I mean I walked in on Laura and clint making lila. I think you would much prefer to have the boys be suspicious instead of walking in." 

"I don't want them thinking about it at all." She mumbles against my shirt, and I smile as I weave my hands through her hair.

"They are teenagers Wanda, they learn about it in school as well."

"But they are my innocent little babies. They don't need to know anything about anyone, especially us. Actually they don't need to know anything till they get themselves a partner." I laugh as Wanda continues to grumble about the matter.

"Well when the time comes you can give them the talk." Wanda tilts her head up so her chin is now resting on my shoulder as she shakes her head.

"No, we can give them the talk. I'm not doing this by myself."

"I was never given the talk or been given the talk. I don't know what to do." Wanda's brows scrunch. 

"Laura and Clint never gave you the talk?" 

"No, Laura didn't think it was necessary when she walked in on me and Sarah. Guess it's Karma for walking in on her and Clint." Wanda laughs a little in surprise.

"It sounds like you guys don't know what knocking on doors or privacy is." I lean down giving Wanda a few pecks as she giggles against my lips.

"Or I thought I thought home alone because they were at work but they in fact decided to close early….both times." I shudder at the memories.

"Well I'm just glad our doors have locks on them." I hum against Wanda's lips as I continue to lightly peck at them.

"Maybe we should sound proof it too." I mumble against her lips. 

"Really guys, right in the doorway." Wanda instantly buries her face into my chest when she hears Eleanor's voice.

"We were just talking, Eleanor." I defend.

"Yeah, sure, you definitely weren't eating each other's faces." I roll my eyes, but when I hear a groan I look over my shoulder to see an annoyed looking Tommy.

"Sorry Tommy." He folds his arms over his chest.

"I came back to ask you two if you wanted a cupcake but I come out here to hear Eleanor saying that. My ears and my brain have been scarred. What's next, my eyes?" 

"I would hope not." I say it before I even realise and Wanda sucks in a breath against my chest as Tommy rolls his eyes.

"Good, don't let me need to scoop my own eyes out. I need to go bleach my brain and clean my ears. I will be back." He smirks at me so I know he isn't really that mad, maybe a little creeped out but not mad. 

"There should be some bleach and Q-tips in the bathroom upstairs...maybe you can….you nope, just go eat your cupcake." I shut myself up remembering he is just 14 and I can't give him a snarky remark, especially about this and especially not in front of his own mother.

"Right." He narrows his eyes at me and seems to drop it. "So back to my original question, which is the reason I left the kitchen. Do you want a cupcake?" 

"Yes please Tommy." He nods at me then leans his body slightly to see his mom still hiding her face in my chest. 

"Mom, would you like a cupcake?" All Wanda does is nod her head, and I see a glimpse of her deep red blush.

"Eleanor?" Eleanor turns to look at Tommy.

"I will come with you, I have to check on the dinner anyway." Eleanor looks back at me and Wanda, rolling her eyes, before walking to the kitchen with Tommy and I look down to Wanda.

"You okay princess?" Wanda once again nods against my chest. "Princess?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." She moves her head back off my chest, I have to hold my tongue to not call her a tomato as she starts fanning herself to try and cool herself off. 

"Someone a little embarrassed?" I giggle as Wanda flips me off.

"What were you going to say to Tommy but stopped yourself?" 

"Nothing important." I wave her off.

"Baby. What did you want to say?" She gives me puppy eyes, but I don't fall into the trap.

"Nope. I'm not saying a thing." 

"Baby." I shake my head, zipping my lips shut. "Baaaaby. I wuv roo." 

"Dammit you know I can't deny that Baby voice of yours." She beems up at me, standing on her tiptoes to kiss my lips.

"Now what did you nearly say to our son?" 

"Uhm, well." I rub the back of my neck before deciding just to say it, her wording not even registering with both of us. "I was going to say if he didn't want to see anything he could borrow our blindfold." 

"Y/n." Wanda grumbles and I smirk when I see a pink tint color her cheeks. 

"You asked."

"I knew it!" My head whips around to see Kate a few metres behind us with a smug grin on her face and I feel Wanda stuff her head under my top, her cheek against my skin as she hides herself. We really can't catch a break.

"Kate." I give her an 'are you serious' look and she holds her hands up defensively.

"Hey I'm not the one with…" She looks around to make sure the boys aren't in ear shot. "Kinks." 

Kate doesn't manage to duck when something is flung towards her face and I burst out laughing as her jaw hangs open in an offended manner. I turn to look at Wanda who has her hand covering her mouth as she laughs behind it. I hadn't even noticed she had snuck away from me and grabbed one of the hoodies on the coat rack, which was now currently in Kate's hands as she pulls it of her face. 

"Wanda." Kate fakes offence.

"Kate." Wanda mocks and it makes Kate's jaw drop more. 

"Y/n she is being mean." Kate whines.

"Hey, you started it." I hold my hands up in surrender and Wanda smiles at my answer poking her tongue out at Kate not a second later. 

"How am I the youngest here right now?" Kate throws her hands in the air but not before attempting to throw the hoodie back at Wanda. Both their jaws drop as I reach out an arm and catch the hoodie before it even gets close to Wanda's face, who quickly composes herself as I lower it and she tilts her head towards Kate.

"Oh fuck." Kate sprints off and Wanda makes chase, all the while I just shake my head and hang the hoodie back up. 

I head towards the kitchen, laughing when I see Kate holding Tommy up by his armpits, literally using him as a shield as Wanda tries to get past his body to get to Kate. Tommy seems to be having the time of his laugh as he is laughing along everytime Kate moves his body left to right, his arms and legs so relaxed they sway dramatically in the air. Eleanor and Billy are eating a cupcake each as they sit on the kitchen counter, both of them smiling every time Kate takes a step back -bringing Tommy's body with her - when Wanda nearly gets past.

I sneak up behind Kate, since her back is facing the entrance to the kitchen, and I see Wanda hold in a smirk not to give away my plan. Eleanor and Billy both take another bite of their cupcakes hiding their smiles behind the chocolate icing. Once I am right behind Kate I quickly push my hands into her armpits lifting her up the same way she is lifting Tommy. Her reactions are quick as she pulls Tommy close to her, wrapping her arms around him so she doesn't drop him, and I start bouncing up and down with them both. 

After a minute or so I put Kate on the ground, who in turn puts Tommy on the ground but as soon as Tommy is out of her reach I wrap my arms around her. I lift her feet slightly off the ground, her legs start kicking in the air as she tries to wiggle out of my grasp.

"Get her!" I shout into the kitchen.

Wanda is the first to attack Kate digging her nails into her side, making sure she isn't actually hurting Kate as she stops every few seconds. Tommy grabs her legs by her shins, lifting them up and locking them under his left arm while his right hand starts tickling her feet. Billy jumps off the counter running over to join the tickle attack, he decides to go for the neck. 

Kate is now squirming around a lot, her laughs echoing around the kitchen as tears start to roll down her cheeks. Eleanor makes her way over, and I smile when I see her dip her finger into the icing of her cupcake. 

"Mom, no, no, no!" I laugh at the slight fear I see in Kate's eyes as she tries to move her head away from her mother's chocolate covered finger but it is no use as Eleanor easily smothers her cheek in chocolate.

"Oh this looks like fun." I turn my head to look over my shoulder to see Janet who has a mischievous smirk painted on her lips. 

"Grandma J, please no more." Kate says breathlessly between laughs.

"Too late." Janet plants her lips on Kate's clean cheek and starts blowing raspberries. 

"Stop, stop. I'm going to pee. I'm going to pee." We all stop and I place Kate quickly on the ground who sprints out the room.

"Is she okay?" Wanda's eyes follow Kate as she darts out of the kitchen.

"Oh yeah, but she's not lying she is probably trying to get to the bathroom on time." 

Wanda hums in acknowledgement, smiling to herself, walking up to me and wrapping her arms around my waist. She pushes her face into my chest, snuggling as close as she can letting out a content sigh as she closes her eyes. I lift one hand up to Wanda's head and start scratching at her scalp just the way she likes it, while the other wraps around her shoulder holding her close. I smile to the other people in the room as they coo at the sight, the boys deciding they want to make it a group hug as Tommy hugs Wanda's left side and Billy hugs her right: their arms wrapping around both both and their mom.

I feel Wanda let out a small sigh planting a small kiss on my clothed chest, her hands moving under the back of my shirt so her hands can rest on my bare skin at the small of my back. Her fingertips start gently dancing along the skin, it's so delicate and acute I hardly feel it. 

"Tired princess?" I feel her subtly nod against my chest and I tilt my head down to rest my lips on the top of her head. "We will have dinner then we can head back to the cabin, we have another early flight tomorrow so up at 5 again."

"Next time we are taking the jet. No getting up at 5am." Wanda mumbles into my sternum.

"You're the one who said no jet." Wanda tilts her head so her eyes look into mine.

"Well I changed my mind. I don't like early wake up calls, so jet next time." She smiles at me silently telling me it isn't actually a demand, but she is open to the option.

"Okay." Our moment of peace is interrupted when Kate comes singing and dancing into the kitchen.

"Who loves food! I do! Who wants food! I do, I do! What sort of food? Any food, any food." Her voice trails off as she finally looks up to see us. "Oh, hey guys. So how long is the food going to be?"

"Go sit, all of you. Me and Eleanor will bring it to the table." Janet ushers us out of the kitchen, the boys detaching themselves from me and Wanda as they follow Kate but me and Wanda remain stuck in our spot.

"Carry me." Her voice is quiet but I see Janet give me a soft smile meaning she heard, miming the word 'cute' to me. 

"Of course princess." 

I press a kiss to her forehead head, her hands remove themselves from my top so they can wrap around my neck. My hands move down to her thighs, hoisting her up and her legs wrap around my waist. Her head turns around her eyes going wide when she sees the other two smiling at us, an embarrassed blush covering her face. 

"I'm sorry for seeming so needy." She looks up at me with a pout obviously not liking the clinginess she is feeling with other people watching. 

"You two go sit. We will bring it out." Janet says completely dismissing Wanda's worry by ignoring the fact which makes me smile because Wanda stuffs her face into the crook of my neck and I mime out a thank you to both women. 

"I've got you princess." I mumble into her ear as I walk us towards the dining room. 

I sit down on a chair, moving Wanda to sit sideways in my lap as her head rests against my chest but she makes an effort to open her eyes so she can interact with her boys. I start to scratch at her scalp again to try and help keep her calm so she doesn't start panicking about showing her clingy side again. 

"You okay mom?" Bill sits on the chair next to me leaning is head on my shoulder.

"Yeah, just a little tired."

"Oh I get snuggly too when I'm tired. It's a shame I have no one to snuggle." Kate states making Wanda smile since they aren't teasing each other for once.

"You'll find someone Kate." Wanda pulls my free hand into her lap and starts fiddling with my fingers. 

"How do you know that? Do you know someone?" Wanda shakes her head.

"No, unfortunately not. Yelena and you would be platonic soulmates that's for sure, if you ever met her. Nats exploring her wild side at the moment and Sharon is...well I don't know what Sharon is doing but your not her type. And the guys I know are like in their 40s so, they also get a no and most of them are not worth even trying anyway."

"Well damn, that's a shame. But it sounds like Y/n has made new friends because of you. Congrats Y/n." I roll my eyes as the boys and Wanda giggle.

"Yeah, whatever. But Wanda is right you and Yelena would be best pals."

"Well I can't say no to new friends. Oh how's Zak doing?" 

"Omg you know Zak?" Wanda sits up more in my lap and excited smile on her face, now a little more awake at the mention of his name.

"Yeah, who doesn't know Zak? If you know Y/n, you know Zak or the other way around. If they both weren't gay I would say they would have made a nice couple." Wanda laughs as Kate rambles about Zak the boys adding things on from how he was at the dinner.

"He can be a diva though." I point out.

"I mean yeah, but it's Zak it's like his whole thing." Kate defends him. 

"Okay, dinners up." Janet makes her presence known as she walks into the room holding two plates on each arm, setting them down in front of me and Wanda, who chooses to sit on the free sit to my left, and the boys who are sat either side of us. 

"Thank you Janet, this looks amazing." I pick up my knife and fork, ready to start eating but waiting for the others to get their food. 

"Yes, thank you Mrs Bishop this looks lovely." Tommy says as he pulls his chair under the table properly.

"You guys can start Eleanor is just on her way and please call me Janet boys. Any family of Y/n's gets to call me so." Janet motions for us to start as she takes a seat at the head of the table. 

"Okay, well thank you Janet." Tommy corrects as he looks at his mom for permission to start.

"Go ahead boys." They both immediately start cutting their food and hum when they taste it. 

"Woah, this is so good. What is it?" Tommy takes another bite.

"It's a meat taco salad, nothing to complicated." She brushes it off as Eleanor enters with their food, taking a seat next to her daughter. 

"I assume its game meat?" Wanda asks as she takes her first bite, eyes going wide as she hums at the taste as well. She hardly finishes her first mouthful before she is putting another fork load in her mouth. 

"It is yes." Janet keeps her answers short and vague not knowing what the boys reaction to eating game meat might be, but they don't seem to care as they have hardly taken a breath between bites. 

"Aren't you going to eat Y/n." I brought out of my wierd trance by Kates voice, her eyes darting between me and the food and I see Wanda's worried eyes on me from my peripheral. 

"Sorry, yeah, just caught in the moment." I scoop up I forkfull, the moment I bite down and taste the meat I know exactly what it is.

"It's a very rich meat." Wanda points out as she scans the red meat on her fork before putting it her mouth making me giggle at her curiosity. 

"It's very red too." Tommy points out copying his mom's actions. "Whatever it is, its really good."

"Is it caribou?" I question before taking another bite, Janet simply nods as she has her mouthful. "Game or farmed?"

"Game." I hum in acknowledgement as Eleanor answers for her mother and I raise an eyebrow at Kate in silent question who nods in return. I send her a proud smile and one grows on her face to.

"So this is wild deer, sort of?" Billy asks taking another bite, obviously not bothered by the fact.

"Yeah it is." Janet places her fork down as she wipes her mouth with a napkin allowing some of her food to settle before continuing, she said it makes sure she can eat it all.

Because the moment you feel full, you stop and two minutes later you're hungry again so instead stop before you get too full and then continue once that feeling goes down. Life lessons with Janet. I don't actually know if it works or if she is just being quirky, I'm too much of a food lover to stop eating a meal halfway through to finish it 5 minutes later.

"Well this is definitely better then shop brought meat. And it's cooked really nicely." Tommy compliments as he finishes his off and wipes his mouth clean with the napkin provided. 

"Thank you, I'm glad you enjoyed it." Janet has now chosen to drink some water, something about helping the food mix and digest. Like I said I've never tried this but Janet swears by it. 

I don't know Google it because I've been too lazy to over the years.

"Yes thank you. It was lovely Janet." Wanda remarks placing her knife and fork down on her plate. 

Soon everyone else has thanked Janet for the food and finished, and now we are all just sitting around letting the food go down for a second before we disappear off to our cabin. My left arm is draped over the back of Wanda's chair, my hand on her shoulder while my other one rests on the edge of the table drumming away to a random beat in my head. 

"So when are we going to see you guys next?" Kate asks with a little worry in her eyes.

"Well we will be staying in New York so whenever you come down and visit." I inform my friend.

"Okay well I will be down the end of next week…"

"So will we." Janet and Eleanor interrupt Kate. 

"Okay well we can arrange to meet up. Maybe have a small meal or we can do a whole big thing at thanksgiving." Wanda offers. 

"We can organise something once we get back, that sound good to you guys." Kate puts out there and we all nod and agree. "Great, well I can only cook packet mac and cheese so one of you will have to do the cooking." 

"Packet mac and cheese is so good though!" Tommy shouts excitedly earning a laugh from everyone around the table.

"Right! Wanda I love this kid." Kate high fives Tommy across the table. "You too Billy." Both of them high five too and the smile on Wanda's face is insane but I can see her tired eyes.

"I hate to cut this short, but I think it is time we head off. We have an early morning tomorrow."

"Of course, of course. We will all show you out." Janet stands from the table making her way out of the room and the rest of us follow soon behind. 

We walk to the front door, the four of us grabbing our coats and shoes as Kate holds the small container of the remaining cupcakes which she hands off to Wanda once he is ready. As soon as the container is out of her hand she engulfs me in a hug, that had so much force behind it I stumble backwards slightly until Billy and Tommy manage to put a hand on my back to stop us from falling.

"You okay there Hawk Eve?" I ask as I wrap my arms around her.

"Yeah, just going to miss you." I smile down at the younger girl.

"We are literally going to plan something for next month."

"I know, but I'm still not over the missing you from before." Kate admits shyly.

"Okay, well we can do coffee once a week when you get back to New York." 

"Sounds good." Kate leans back looking between me and Wanda. "I'm happy for you."

"Thank you Kate." She plants a kiss on my cheeks, but suddenly looking at Wanda expecting a bad reaction but when she sees only a smile she relaxes. 

"Love you, bi...stinky." I slap Kates arm playfully but she jumps back pretending it hurts. 

"Love you too kid." Kates jaw drops buts she chooses to ignore me and hug the boys bye instead while me and Wanda say our byes to Eleanor and Janet. Kate shuffles a little when it comes to saying bye to Wanda not sure what to do, but when she is pulled into a hug she relaxes. 

"Bye Kate. Its been a pleasure meeting you." Wanda says genuinely, I see her whisper something in Kate's ear and Kate whispers something back and they embrace each other more. 

"It's been lovely too meet you Wanda. I will see you soon." 

"See you soon Kate." They both pull away from the embrace, Wanda grabbing my hand as we start to walk out the door.

"Text me Kate." I shout up to her as we start getting into the car.

"I will. See you all soon." She waves her hand above her head enthusiastically, the boys returning one with the same energy before climbing into the car.

"Okay back to the cabin." I say to no one in particular as I reverse the car back off the driveway as the other three wave to Kate, Eleanor and Janet.

"Bye!" The sound echoes through the car as the boys shout out the window until we are driving away. 

"Thank you for letting us hang out with Kate. She is really fun! And the archery thing is so cool, like, she is so awesome." Billy rants and raves about how they shot at different targets and Kate showed off all the tricks she has been teaching herself to seem cool. It must be working because a 14 year old just called her cool...so….

"Yes thank you mom. And thank you Y/n for bringing us." I smile at Tommy through the rearview mirror for second, my hand finding home on Wanda's thighs and her hands immediately start fiddling with my rings and fingers  

"I'm glad you liked her and enjoyed her company. Like I said before she is a hyper puppy but she means well." 

"She's 19, let her be." Wanda tries to defend her apparent new friend.

"Says the one who was chasing her around every two minutes." Me and the boys giggle as Wanda shrugs with a smile.

"It's fun to act like a kid sometimes." I give her thigh a gentle squeeze.

"I'm only joking princess. There is nothing wrong with the fact, it was actually funny and cute. It's also really sweet you get on with her and the other two." 

"Well I did go all Sokovian on Eleanor for a second but we will skip past that fact." 

"Indeed we will." 

~~~~~~

"Night Boys." I whisper to then as we enter the cabin, Wanda in my arms half asleep.

"Night Y/n. Night mom." 

"Mhmm, night boys...love...you." Wanda mumbles as she tries to open her eyes, forcing herself to stay awake. 

"You really are tired today aren't you." All she can do is nod. "Let's get you to bed." 

I carefully carry her upstairs making sure we don't fall, or I don't drop her. I go to the door to see its already open, one of the boys must have done it for me, and make my way into the room kicking the door shut. I sit Wanda up on the edge of the bed, but she is that tired that her body just flops backwards onto it and I have to hold in a laugh. 

"You okay princess?" Wanda opens up her eyes giving me a lazy smile as I bend over to look at her with an amused one.

"I'm okay. Just want cuddles and sleep."

"Okay. First we need to get you changed. No clothes night tonight?" I offer knowing how much more she craves skin on skin contact when she is clingy. 

"Please." 

"Of course. I've got you." I start with her socks, as she tiredly mumbles random shit to herself while her hands dance in front of her face like it's helping to explain whatever nonsense she is saying. "What did you and Kate whispers to each other earlier?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Ealier you and Kate whispered something to each other and then hugged each other tightly."

"I don't recall." 

"Princess." I drag it out in hopes she will give in but she shakes her head.

"I plead the fifth." She squeal as I leave a sloppy kiss on her lips.

"Fine." I say with a smile so she knows I don't actually, desperately, need to know.

"I love you baaaaby." Her voice cracks with rasp as she falls more into a sleepy state.

"I love you to princess."

"I'm not on my period by the way."

I kneel at the edge of the bed starting to take her pants of as I give her a very confused look. She lifts her head of the bed, looking down at me copying my confused look before her head flops back down.

"I just mean, last time I was like this clingy was on my period. But it's not that." I kiss her now bare thigh as I pull her pants down and she giggles at the feeling of the wet kiss and start to pull her underwearoff too. "Tickles."

"Well I know it's not your period, because you only had yours 2 weeks ago is I think. Do you know what it is?" I kiss her thigh again smiling when I hear her giggle and her hand tries to, and miserably fails to, swat my face away. 

"Mmmm, maybe the intense sex. I just feel very clingy after it, don't know why. Also you haven't had a period yet. What's that about?" I laugh at her sleepy state as her words slur together a little as I move to sit on the edge of the bed to take her shirt off.

"That is a very high possibility. It probably has something to do with the release of hormones including oxytocin - the cuddle hormone - which explains itself." I manage to slide the shirt off her body, without much help from the sleepy woman, and easily take her bra off next. Skipping over her question completely.

"Well that explains it." 

"Right let's get you under the covers." 

"Thank you for looking after me baby." Wanda's eyes are now fully open looking at me, as I wrap one arm under her body and lift her up the bed. 

"I will always look after you princess."

"Even when I'm old and grey."

"Even when you're old and grey." Her eyes close as she gives me a very sleepy but very happy smile.

"I will look after you too. Just me and you." I peck her lips as I climb into bed next to her, pushing the covers out from under her body and then over ours. 

"Just us." Wanda hums while nodding her body gravitating towards mine. Her head finding home on my bare chest as one of her legs bends to rest between mine as the other lays partially across my left one, her foot resting on my shin. Her right arm hooks itself under my body as her left one rests on my chest, her fingers tracing patterns under my right boob.

"Is that going to be our couple mantra?" Wanda mumbles against my chest.

"What, just us?"

"Mmm. Like people says I love you more. Or they say always and forever. Or I read this book where they say I'm with you. So can just us be ours." She tilts her head back to look up at me as I lift my head to look down at her.

"Just us princess." She smiles at me before planting a wet kiss on my bare chest.

"Just us, dorogaya…..just us."

================================

[angelasscribbles]

Friendship

Series: None, this is a one-shot and you can find those here.

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Constantine x Eleanor, Jackson x Bianca, but really it's about the beginning of Liam and Drake's friendship.

Rating: G

Warnings for this chapter: None

Word Count: 1,894

A/N: I had written the first couple of paragraphs over a year ago then put it away with no real idea where it was going. Then @kingliamappreciationweek happened and I decided to dust this off and finish it for childhood/family and friendships/relationships. I'm late, but here it is.

My other stuff: Master List.

Liam was a serious child. Even as a toddler, people would remark about his solemn expression. It wasn’t that he never smiled, he did. It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy, he was. There had just always been an aura of thoughtfulness surrounding him. The portrait his mother had commissioned of him for his second birthday showed a somber child. He sat in an elaborate Baroque throne chair with dark red crushed velvet upholstery and a gold leaf finish. He was dressed in a toddler suit with short pants, showing his legs, still chubby with baby fat, his ebony hair brushed back from his face as he gazed solemnly out at the photographer.

Despite that, he was a friendly child who learned by the age of four that being charming got him whatever he wanted from the nannies and the kitchen staff.

A heartfelt, “Please?” netted him cookies, cakes, candies, and plenty of baklava. No one could withstand the cuteness of the little prince. Especially his mother.

His first smiles, at three months old, were for Eleanor. As he grew into a toddler and preschooler, she remained his favorite person, that somber expression turning into a wide faced grin at the sound of her voice or the sight of her face.

She read to him, she played with him, she took him on walks in the garden. She was the antidote to his father’s seriousness.

By the age of six, Liam had learned that his father’s affections were less frequent and harder earned. The bulk of Constantine’s attention went to Liam’s older brother, because Leo was going to be king, and Liam was not. He was only the spare.

Liam never resented Leo for it. He loved him. Leo was his second favorite person in the world, after Eleanor. He started toddling along behind him as soon as he could walk. Leo was older, cooler, and knew all the best games.

Leo was also a frequent rule breaker, while Liam was not. On this particular day, Leo and Olivia had decided to sneak away from the nannies and play in the woods behind the palace.

Leo had read to him until he bored of it. Pushing the stack of books away he exclaimed, “I can’t stand being inside for another moment! Let’s go out to play!”

“Finally!” Olivia cast the copy of Little Women she’d been reading to the side as she jumped up from the oversized beanbag in the corner of the library.

“I want to come too!” Liam scrambled quickly to his feet. He had learned the hard way that if he didn’t keep up with the older kids, he’d be left behind.

 “Sure,” Leo shrugged, “but you have to be quiet until we get past the hedge maze.”

“Past the hedge maze?” Liam asked in alarm, “We aren’t supposed to go past the hedge maze! Father said-“

“Father doesn’t have to know, does he?”

“Maybe you should stay here, Liam,” Olivia said sagely, “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

Liam thought for a moment, taking in Leo’s amusement and Olivia’s smug sureness that he would stay behind. He drew in a deep breath and squared his shoulders, “No. I’ll go!”

“Are you sure, Li?” Leo asked with a laugh, “Last time you got caught breaking the rules, you cried.”

Liam flushed with embarrassment. Father had been so angry. He didn’t like to make anyone angry, “I didn’t mean to break the vase.”

“Hey,” the amusement disappeared from Leo’s face, replaced with sympathy, “It’s okay! It wasn’t even your fault, I’m the one that talked you into playing football in the great room!”

“It’s okay, Liam,” Olivia placed a hand on his shoulder as she leaned down, “but I heard there’s fresh baklava in the kitchen. You should go get some!”

“Yeah…okay….” He agreed half-heartedly.

He picked up an illustrated copy of Where the Wild Things Are with a sigh as he watched Leo and Olivia sneak giggling down the hallway toward the garden doors.

Thirty minutes later he was perched on a stool at one of the marble counters in the place kitchen, shoving baklava into his mouth as he turned the pages of his book when he heard unfamiliar voices.

He turned away from his book in interest as the head of the King’s Guard entered the room with a man and a woman Liam had never seen before. Trailing behind the adults were two children.

Liam’s eyes widened as he took in the new arrivals. A little girl with dark curls and wide eyes took in everything around her in wonder. A boy that looked to be about the same age as himself kept his gaze trained on the floor indifferently, a shock of chestnut hair falling into his eyes; hands stuffed into his pockets.

Liam twisted back and forth on the stool in excitement, nearly tumbling out of it as he did.

“Careful there young master!” The pastry chef caught him before he could fall.

“Sorry!” Liam exclaimed as he twisted out of her grasp, his head spinning to keep track of the children, “Who are they? I want to go say hi! Can I?”

“Certainly!” She laughed as she released him and watched as he sprinted across the travertine tile.

The group had moved into the formal dining room when Liam caught up with them, skidding around a corner and colliding directly with the head of the King’s Guard. “Ooof! Sorry!”

“It’s alright,” Captain Sullivan helped him to his feet, “What’s the big hurry?”

“I wanted to meet the kids!” Liam ducked his head, suddenly a little shy, “Who are they? What are they doing here?”

“Okay, okay, slow down!” The captain laughed, “I’ll introduce you! Your Highness, this is the newest member of the guard, Jackson Walker, his wife Bianca and their children, Drake and Savannah. Everyone, this is Prince Liam.”

Liam sucked in a breath of surprise; he knew that some members of the guard lived at the palace. He felt like he was about to explode with excitement. Please let them live here, he prayed furiously. Out loud he said, “I’m very pleased to meet you.”

“And we’re very pleased to meet you,” Jackson shook his hand.

The girl shoved her way in front of her parents, a look of awe on her face, “Are you an honest to God, real life prince?”

“I am.” Liam grinned at her.

“It’s nice to meet you Liam,” Bianca told him before pushing the boy forward, “Isn’t it Drake? Can you say hi to the prince?”

Drake shuffled forward awkwardly, lifted his eyes to Liam’s face for a moment then dropped them as he mumbled, “Hi.”

“Can they come play with me?” Liam directed the question to the adults, lacing the fingers of both hands through each other as he pleaded, “Pleeeeease?”

“Oh, yes!” Savannah squealed, clapping her hands as she jumped up and down, adding her pleas to his, “Can we please?”

“I think that would be okay,” Jackson replied, “What you think, son? Would you like to go play with Liam?”

The sullen faced little boy lifted his copper and gold flecked eyes again and found Liam’s face. Drake’s determination to hate everything about this new place faltered a little as saw the genuine excitement bubbling over in the other child. “I guess that would be okay. What do you want to do?”

“Yes!” Liam jumped up into the air with joy, “We can play whatever you want! Hide and seek, or tag in the gardens, we have board games, video games, we could ride bicycles if we get the nannies to supervise us or we could play sword fighting-“

“You have swords?” Drake’s eyes widened with interest.

“Wooden ones but-“

“Can I dad?” Drake turned to Jackson hopefully.

“Yes, go on. We’ll come find you later.” Jackson squeezed Bianca’s hand as they watched their children scurry down the hall with the prince. Relief flooded his wife’s features, mirroring his own. Drake had been the child they had been most worried about adjusting to the move, but he seemed to be warming to the place already.

“What’s it like being a prince and living in a palace?” Savannah asked as she hurried to keep up with the older boys.

“Boring,” came the instant reply.

“Really?” Savannah sounded disappointed.

Drake laughed and Liam’s smile broadened at the sound as he elaborated, “The other kids in the palace are all older than me and no one ever wants to play.”

He was lonely.

“Drake comes up with all the best games,” Savannah told him.

“Is that right?”

“That’s right,” Drake agreed, “Where is this playroom you’re taking us to?”

“Fifth door on the left,” Liam pointed down a long hallway.

“Race you,” Drake grinned at him, “Winner gets to pick his sword first!”

“Okay-“ Liam started to agree but Drake was already sprinting down the hall. It only took a second for Liam to realize what was happening and tear off after him.

The three children tumbled through the playroom door panting and shrieking with laughter.

Drake collapsed onto the floor in purposeful exaggeration as he gasped, “I’m dying….but I won!”

“You cheated you mean!” Liam laughed as he dropped onto the ground next to him.

“It wasn’t cheating,” Drake corrected him, “It’s called gaining a tactical advantage!”

Liam was used to other children being awkward around him, letting him win games or actively trying to avoid playing with him, because of his status. The young prince was absolutely delighted by this new playmate’s utter lack of concern about his title.

Drake had been convinced that the princes would be stuffy, stuck up and boorish. He was thrilled to be proven wrong. He hadn’t wanted to move, yet again. He hadn’t wanted to give up his friends, yet again. His father had promised that this duty station was more permanent. He had been determined not to get attached to anything or anyone, but as they staged epic battles with the wooden swords, of which Liam had let him claim the best one, he found the heaviness that had sat in his chest since his parent’s had announced this move starting to loosen.

The boys quickly became inseparable.

In the weeks and months that followed, Liam became less somber, at least around Drake. He was still a serious, thoughtful child, but he had a quicker smile as Drake drew out his playful side. Drake became less guarded, at least around Liam. He was still a slow to warm up child, but he turned outward a little more as Liam gained his trust.

“Drake seems to be adjusting well,” Eleanor remarked as a maid set the tea service in front of her.

“He is!” Bianca agreed happily, “It’s been four months and he seems completely back to normal! I think it’s because of Liam, honestly.”

Eleanor nodded with a smile on her lips as she blew on her tea to cool it, “Liam is so happy to have a playmate of his own. He’s a different child now. I think this friendship is good for both of them.”

The two women turned to watch as the boys raced through the gardens, shouts and laughter filtering through the late morning air. It was a beautiful day, the children were happy and for the moment, all was well in Cordonia.

[cassidyafton]

REIMAGINATION: CHAPTER 8

Summary: A dark reinterpretation of the events of the Mr. Hopp's Playhouse series.

Chapter summary: In the midst of all the chaos beginning to take hold at Blacklands Manor, Esther confronts a so-called "friend" for trying to sabotage her.

Esther woke up late from another nightmare again that day. There was no use in being up for breakfast. She wouldn’t be allowed to eat anything after all, not until lunch.

There was a commotion downstairs- those holes and sores on Jackie’s hand had apparently spread all over his body, from the sounds of it- but it only lasted as far as the infirmary. Clearly, they thought everyone was in the dining room, and no one would hear them.

Esther didn’t care. Jackie would surely be fine, it was just some kind of allergic reaction. But she had more to worry about, herself.

Her stomach growled and her face twisted.

Molly.

Molly was so jealous she was able to be nice to people that she was getting Esther in trouble. That she was going to get Esther thrown in the cellar or Mr. Hopp in the trash.

She had awoken cuddling Mr. Hopp tightly so that nothing could take him away again, despite her dreams of a shadowy figure taking his face to haunt her leaving her sweating and shaking. He was her best friend. Her only friend. And Molly was trying to punish her.

She threw on a purple blouse and long denim skirt and stormed down the stairs to the dining room.

“MOLLY ELEANOR CASWELL!”

She spoke it like one of the matrons might, yelling her full name with a power.

“Huh? Esther?” Molly looked up, with the best innocent face she could give Esther, and frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Molly, I know you put Mr. Hopp in the kitchen last night and got me in trouble for it! What’s your problem with me now?”

“What?!” Molly’s expression twisted into defensive rage. She’d been caught. Esther wasn’t buying it. “That wasn’t me! Why would I go anywhere near your dumb bunny when I have Miss Bo?!” She scoffed.

“Are you sure you weren’t just sleepwalking, Esther? You’ve been having nightmares, maybe it was just that?” Isaac suggested. She briefly looked his way.

He was looking at her like she was crazy.

And Esther couldn’t hold back that malicious voice in the back of her head any longer.

“You know what, Molly? Maybe you haven’t noticed, but you’re not a princess! You’re dirt poor, stuck in this rotten orphanage with no parents, just like the rest of us! So stop acting like a princess and maybe, if you tried to be nice, you might have friends, and the rest of us might actually like you!”

Isaac’s jaw dropped. Matron Sue shot her a glare. But Esther didn’t take her eyes off Molly.

As the other kids began to snicker and whisper among themselves, Molly’s face burned red with embarrassment, and fat tears welled in her brown eyes.

“Ugh!”

With nothing else to say for herself, Molly grabbed her precious Miss Bo and stormed off.

Then Esther felt a tugging force on her ear.

As Matron Sue grabbed Esther by the ear, the kids went quiet again.

“ESTHER!” She roared. “What has gotten into you?! You used to be so well-behaved and kind and now you’re breaking every rule we set and fighting with the other kids- just what is WRONG with you?!”

“I…”

Suddenly, Molly wasn’t the only one in tears. As she lifted an arm to cover her eyes, Esther began to sob uncontrollably. What was wrong with her? Molly was her friend. They’d been friends since they were four years old, since Molly was the new girl and needed someone to play with and Esther let her sit and play without asking her to share her little wooden doll. They butted heads, yes, but there were lines she would never cross, and one of those, above all else, was ever abandoning Molly, whose family had broken that rule already when she woke up one day and the whole house had been caved in leaving no one but her alive. So why, why was Esther being so mean? Why didn’t she care about anything anymore?

“I don’t know!” She cried. “I’m sorry, I don’t know!”

She heard the scraping of a chair being pushed out, and there was a split second of relief- someone else must've had everyone's eyes on them now- but of course, that didn't fix anything.

"Isaac, c'mon."

She couldn't quite make out the origin of the voice. She only knew that they were coming her way, and based on the second chair moving, that Issac was coming with them.

She felt Desdemona's long braids against her as she wrapped her arms around Esther and began to shush as though she was calming a crying baby, and that told her what was happening.

"It's okay, Esthie," Dessie whispered between breaths. "You tried to warn us."

"I did," Esther whined pathetically. "There's- there's something in this place. I don't know what it's doing to me."

"It's not your fault," Dessie continued. Esther was vaguely aware of the fact that she was shifting her weight from leg to leg, rocking Esther back and forth ever so gently. "The evil lurking in these halls... it's controlling us. You can't help it."

"You should apologize to Molly," Isaac said softly.

"Don't force her," Dessie replied. "She's having a hard enough time as it is."

"No." Esther sniffed, wiping at her eyes. "Isaac's right. I owe her an apology. I was too mean."

"Too mean..." Dessie repeated, with an expression and inflection that made Esther feel like she didn't believe she was capable of being mean. "Alright." She lifted Esther's chin to look at her. Something about the way she moved and handled her reminded Esther of an overly stubborn little sister. Not the worst thing to be, she supposed. "Come find me if you need me, alright?"

"Okay." Esther nodded, and with Mr. Hopp in hand and a smile from Dessie, she headed off to find her friend.

[scifrey]

Carpe Diem

Status: One-Shot

Series: the Hob Adherent series

Fandom: The Sandman (TV 2022) Includes some comics canon, and some cameos from the wider Gaiman-verse (including the Good Omens and Lucifer television shows), but it’s not necessary to know to enjoy the story.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Discussions of grief and in-canon character death.

Relationships:  Morpheus | Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling, Eleanor | Hob Gadling’s Wife/Hob Gadling (past)

Characters: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Hob Gadling, Lucifer, Patrick the Bartender, Crowley, Aziraphale, Johanna Constantine, Matthew the Raven

Summary: Hob turns six hundred and sixty-six, invites some fellow Immortals to his bar to celebrate, and receives a gift from Satan herself. Or, the Key to Hell was always going to Be a Problem(tm).

Set between the epilogue and chapter one of Cling Fast.

READ ON AO3 OR READ BELOW:

Hob tells Patrick he’s turning thirty-six. 

About five minutes before the party is set to start, he takes immature delight in adding a tiny little x2 between the 3 and the 6 on the poster wishing him a happy birthday with a sharpie. Normally Hob doesn’t make much of a fuss about his birthday–it’s too easy for his fellow, aging humans to start tracking them that way–but it’s May 1st in the Year of Our Lord 2022, and Hob Gadling is turning six hundred and sixty-six years old.

He figures that deserves a party.

They close The New Inn for the private event, and Patrick, grumpy bastard that he is, refuses to hire in a catering staff so he can enjoy himself, too. 

“It’s your birthday, Bob,” he says, as Hob is tying off the last of the bunting above the banquettes. “I’m not having a stranger back here screwing up your orders.”

“We do need to hire a server before the summer, though,” Hob points out, jumping down and wiping the tread-prints from his shoes off the leather seat. “And a new kid for the kitchen.”

“Well it’s not happening any time today, so just… let me celebrate you from my happy place.”

“Fine, fine,” Hob grants with a smile. Patrick is very, very good at his job. He also has an anxious fear of crowds, when there isn’t wood and fridges and pint-glass washers between him and other people. “But tell me you’ll try to relax a bit, please. It’s my party, and I want you to have fun.”

Patrick gifts him with a set of bowfingers and turns his back to resume prep. Hob wonders what the Signature Cocktail du Jour is going to be, with that many sliced limes, peaches, and strawberries.

Hob is generally very pleased with himself and the world. He’s in a university and profession he loves, he’s inspiring young minds and hearts towards kindness and generosity to their fellow humans, he’s very slowly restoring the White Horse one city council fight at a time, he is master of The New Inn and it’s domain, and he is swiftly becoming best friends with a magical talking raven. 

And, of course, in the nine months since Morpheus has broken free of his prison and returned to Hob’s life, he has become a fixture of his Tuesday afternoons and no small part of his attention and affection besides. That's something worth celebrating, too. Hob's Stranger has somehow, wonderfully, become his friend. And he’s agreed to come today, which is even better. Hob has been getting better at couching his requests in dares, and highlighting his pleas with sad puppy eyes. The two things Morpheus, humanity’s facet of Dream of the Endless, seems to be weak against are a bet, and Hob showing any unhappiness or disappointment.

These facts are carefully recorded in his mental List of Things I Know About The Stranger. The list is growing longer, slowly but surely, which is thrilling in itself. Hob is starting to feel like he knows Morpheus, for a given value of ‘knowing’ when it comes to interacting with a singular facet of anthropomorphic personifications of vast universal concepts.

He’s also not above using this knowledge to his advantage, although he’s careful to deploy this hoarded wisdom to his own advantage very, very sparingly. No point in tipping his hand this early in their fragile friendship.

Hob is immortal, he’s happy, he loves his life and the people in it, and it’s his birthday. 

What isn’t there to celebrate?

The first guests arrive around happy hour, and clump together on one of the banquettes. They’re his colleagues in the History department, with the addition of a PhD hopeful who’s clearly tagged along in order to get into Doctor Gadlen’s good graces before the mad race for a thesis supervisor begins in the summer. Patrick knows some of them, as Hob’s dragged them here from the university often enough, and is happy to take care of them while Hob fiddles with the music. 

He's curated a playlist of his favorite songs from the last six and a half hundred years (the ones he could find recordings of, of course), and damn anyone who complains that the mix is weird.

Hob’s offering up beer and wine on the house, as well as soft drinks for those who prefer it, and platters of nibbles. Word must get back to the school because soon a second wave of professors and TAs slide through the door. The maxim is entirely true: academics are cockroaches and will pop up anywhere free food and booze are on offer. Hob’s happy to welcome them in, even if he only knows a few of them on sight, and even less by name.

A party is a party, and it fills him with joy to know they’ll be going home full and happy. Hob is High Priest of the Last Temple of Morpheus. It’s his duty to ensure everyone who comes through the doors of The New Inn leave in a state of mind and body to rest peacefully and fully.

Hob’s colleagues are joined soon enough by some of the bar regulars, folks from the social charities and organizations that Hob works with to keep the people on his little patch of city well-cared for and housed, and a few people who serve on the same Heritage Protections board as he’s a member of on behalf of the White Horse.

But there’s one particular person he keeps craning his head around to see, every time the little bell above the door jangles. The one particular person who has not yet arrived. Hob distracts himself with gracefully accepting presents he very specifically told people not to bring, offering up cheek-kisses and handshakes in return for the collection of cards, wine bottles, and novelty teacher mugs.

The sun sets, bringing along with it Johanna Constantine, and Ric the Vic, both of whom Hob knows peripherally through the Goings On (™) of London. They offer him their congratulations, and slide into one of the tables in the corner to enjoy their free libations and pretend strenuously that they’re not not planning to leave to fuck in the next few hours.

Hob had spread word through what passes for a grapevine in the sparse community of Otherfolk of the city that they, too, would be welcome at Hob’s birthday party. After all, they’re the only ones who’d understand–and enjoy the irony–of the number. He doesn’t actually expect many of them to take him up on it, but manners are manners.

All the same, he’s fairly sure he sees some of the Doors slipping in and out between his supply cupboard and the bar with a platter of pigs-in-a-blanket, and Bod Owens chatting up the PhD hopeful by the loos. The Marquis de Carabas’s coat catches his eye and Hob turns to welcome him, only to come face-to face with a very different imposing nobleman in a long distinctive coat.

“Happy Birthday , Hob Gadling ,” Morpheus greets him. He’s got the world’s tiniest potted cactus cradled in his palm, and he holds it out awkwardly to Hob. The tips of his ears, mostly hidden by the puff of his dark hair, are delicately pink. They’re the same shade of the seductive-slick curve of a conch shell, of the secret inside curve of his lips when he pouts, the tip of his tongue when he chases a stray drop of wine in a startlingly mortal gesture.

It’s adorable.

It’s not fair .

Hob really needs to get this stupid crush under control.

“Aw, is this for me?” Hob asks, delighted, as if the cactus pot wasn’t already embraced by a silky red bow.

Morpheus just raises his eyebrows, as if to say, Are you daft? so Hob takes it. He wonders if it would be too forward of him to buss a kiss off Morpehus’ cheek in thanks, as he has been doing with all of his other gift-givers this evening. 

It’s a step more intimate than the hand-holding they do when one or the other of them needs comfort during a difficult confession. But Morpheus is Hob’s friend now, and it’s how he greets his other friends. Morpheus deserves no less. He decides to go for it.

The King of Nightmares takes the kiss with startled good grace, and Hob pulls back quickly so he’s not imposing on Morpheus’ personal bubble. His friend can get prickly when he feels his sovereignty threatened, or his independence violated, for very understandable and obvious reasons.

He fiddles with the cactus, turning the pot around in his fingertips and admiring the single dusty-purple bloom at its apex. He hopes it’ll get enough sunlight in here.

“Where’s Matthew?” Hob asks, to fill the awkward silence.

“Behaving extremely poorly for a denizen of his station. ”

“Come again?”

“ Out front, entertaining some of your regulars by repeating filthy words for peanuts,” Morpheus says, amusement and disdain warring in his tone. Morpheus is forever despairing over Matthew’s constant desire to be in the spotlight. 

Hob laughs, delighted, and chivvies Morpheus over to the bar for a glass of his teeth-suckingly sweet wine. He directs his friend around to the empty place where the bar meets the wall beside the tiny area cleared of tables and chairs for dancing. No one has moved to that side of the pub yet, so it's empty of the press of dreamers that Morpheus sometimes finds overwhelming. 

Hob slips behind the bar to pour Morpheus's libation himself, ignoring Patrick’s eye roll. He doesn’t understand why Hob wants to be the only one to touch the wine. Sure it’s expensive, but it’s not like Patrick is going to pour it wrong or something.

But for Hob, it’s a ritual. It’s a gift.

It’s an offering to his friend and god.

It means something that Hob is the one who pours, who presents, who proffers.

Morpheus takes the cup with all the dignified grace that the gesture demands, and backs into the shadows to enjoy it in peace. Hob moves the cactus to pride of place on top of the coffee machine, and goes about fetching himself his own first drink of the evening. Now that Morpheus is here, he can finally relax and indulge.

“Don’t get any ideas above your station,” someone hisses at the little plant, and Hob peers around the machine to find The Bentley Snake hunched forward on his elbows, propped up behind the hidden corner of the bar, whiskey in hand. His dark red hair is shorn short on the sides this time, a long standy-uppy flop at the top, and he’s wearing the latest in a long line of painfully slim-cut black suits. 

Sometimes Hob wonders if he’s doing Immortality wrong, being the only one of the lot who seems to like wearing more than black or white.

“Please don’t threaten my new plant friend,” Hob asks him.

“Needs ssssssome threatening,” the Snake says, sunglasses trained on the cactus. “Thinks its high n’ mighty just cause it sprouted in the Dreaming.”

Hob processes this as he pulls a pint for himself. “You know about the Dreaming?”

“Sleep, don’t I?” the Snake mutters.

Hob refills the Snake’s whiskey glass, and clinks his pint off the Snake’s tumbler. “I don’t like to assume.”

“Oi, I sleep, don’t I, Lord Shaper?” the Snake says, with a jerk of his chin at where the bar meets the wall. 

Morpheus is little more than a black shadow and starshine eyes. He must be feeling a bit crowded, to have retreated so thoroughly. Hob doesn’t blame him–it’s starting to get stuffy, what with all the bodies and the salt-rank whiff of booze and sweat. The music is a touch loud now that there's so many voices competing to be heard over it, and Hob is thinking that now’s a good time to open the windows, let the pre-storm breeze that’s kicking up wash the place fresh.

Though he doesn’t point it out to the man, Hob’s Stranger has been different since his return. 

While before he was reserved and formal, now he’s skittish about touch, always buttoned up to the throat in whatever clothing he manifests for himself, and reluctant to allow himself to be crowded or contained. They're working on it, with long walks along the quay or visits to farmer's markets, but overcoming trauma is never a fast process. Even the occasional therapeutic hand-holding Hob imposes on him has to be well telegraphed, or Morpheus will shake him off without realizing he’s done so.

These are all very understandable and normal reactions to the torture he’d suffered at the hands of Burgess. But while Hob has done his best to comfort and guide Morpheus toward healing in his limited, mortal way, it’s not like he can he can force the God of Sleep to make an appointment with a headshrinker.

Hob flashes a glance over at Colonel Williams, by the front door, who is one of the social support folks Hob knows from helping the unhoused get back on their feet. She specializes in suppressed trauma and PTSD, and Hob wonders if there’s a way he could maneuver Morpheus into an ‘accidental’ conversation with the woman sometime tonight.

“ So deeply that I cannot oust you from my realm for decades at a time, Serpent, ” Morpheus rumbles, and right, Hob’s forgotten that he’s supposed to be mediating between two otherworldly entities. Morpheus turns his gaze to Hob. “What is he doing here?” 

Morpheus sounds two thirds curious and one third jealous.

He doesn’t mean it like that , Hob tells himself. It may be my birthday–well, the date I chose to be my birthday–but I’m not going to get that lucky.

An odd tension frazzles the air, and the Snake rolls his impossible spine backwards a bit, not retreating, exactly. Just not standing so close to Hob.

Huh.

Who knew that Morpheus would be so territorial with his head priest?

Hob laughs, trying disperse the feeling that if he’s not careful, he may inadvertently start a supernatural brawl. “Come on, my friend. You think after six and a half centuries, you’re the only creepy-crawly I know?”

“I am not a creepy-crawly, Hob Gadling,” Morpheus rumbles, with all the theatrical offense of a maiden-aunt. “But I did not think you would consort with the likes of him . Not with your upbringing as it was–”

The Snake bristles. “Hey! I was invited!”

Morpheus steps out of the shadows just enough for his face and hands–and empty wine glass–to be visible in the dim pub lighting. Night has well and truly fallen outside. He sets the glass on the bar top with a challenging tink .

“ Invited ,” Morpheus repeats flatly.

“I just let it be known among the Othered set that they were welcome to drop by,” Hob hisses, low enough that Patrick won’t be able to catch it over the conversation and music around them.

“It’s a special number, you know. I felt like it should be celebrated with everyone , especially those who really know what it means.”

Morpheus inhales sharply and turns narrowed, laser-focused, glacier-blue eyes to Hob’s face. “ How did you phrase this invitation? ” he asks with no little urgency.

Hob blinks. 

“Uh, something something freely welcome to partake of my hospitality, all those who know the number something something?” Hob says, nerves flooding him. He tugs on his ear. “Did I… um… say something I shouldn’t have?”

“ All those who know the number ,” Morpheus groans. “The number of the beast.”

"Six-one-six," the Snake says.

"Six- six- six," Hob corrects, "According to modern translations. Which is also the number of years I've… oh. No. No, it's my birthday ,” Hob says, sweat beading by his hairline and trickling down the back of his shirt. “That’s… that’s what I meant.”

“But that it is not what you said .”

The Snake straightens up all at once, eyes popping wide behind his glasses if the sudden height of his eyebrows are anything to go by. He slams back the rest of his whiskey and chokes: “That’s me out, then. Many happy returns, you poor doomed bastard. If you ever get any.”

“That’s not ominous at all,” Hob says, and chugs half his beer.

The Snake wends his way to the front door and is gone in a gust of chill spring breeze, and the sound of the rain just starting up outside. Hob hopes Matthew has found a good roost under one of the table umbrellas. One of these days, he's going to make good on his threat to get the raven a Service Animal vest, just so he can come inside in weather like this.

Morpheus fully manifests, posture tense, nostrils flaring. He scans the crowd. For who, Hob can guess, but he doesn’t like to think on it.

Morpheus has, after all, told him all about his trip to Hell.

And then the lights flicker.

Hob is… well, he’s almost disappointed by how dramatic the Devil’s entrance is. 

In the last six hundred years, he’s come to learn that people like him tend to lay low and not bring attention to themselves. Even Morpheus, with his fine clothes and fist-sized ruby, behaved as a mortal might at their meetings–walking into the White Horse, sitting down, no excess displays of power or even wealth, really, save for the handful of dreamsand he’d blown in Lady Constantine’s face.

But Hob has to give the Devil their due. When they play, they don’t play small.

The storm that’s been brewing since sunset suddenly, and violently breaks. Rain cascades against the roof like the rush of an oncoming train. A clap of thunder loud enough to rattle the martini glasses in their hangers above the bar shakes the room, making more than one person yelp. The crack of lightning that follows flares like an atom bomb, white light blasting in through the windowpanes, casting everyone in harsh, dramatic black-and-white chiaroscuro.

Ears ringing and eyes sparking, Hob sets down his beer and scrubs at his face.

(Okay, so he’s also a little disappointed there’s no fiddle sting to accompany their appearance. But then again, the New Inn is hardly Georgia.)

When his vision has cleared, Hob whirls around to check on his friends and colleagues. There’s probably something dangerous about turning your back to Satan, but he’s got the King of Nightmares guarding it. He’s more worried for the humans than the two celestial entities that are, if he knows his friend, puffing up and posturing. Hob skims out from behind the bar, heading for Patrick, who has stopped a few steps away from the service gap. 

And he's… he's just standing there.

Fear seizes Hob’s throat, and for a terrible second, he worries that the light really was an atom bomb, that everyone he’s ever known and loved in this life are nothing more than people-shaped pillars of ash, and it’s his fault. He invited them here, and then he invited the literal Devil as well, and now they're—

But no, when he reaches Patrick, his friend is alive. He breathes, he blinks, his flesh is soft and warm. But he’s frozen. Hob looks around and… yes, the humans in the room–well, the mortal ones, at least–have simply stopped moving.

“Are they…?” Hob crackles.

“ They will be fine,” Morpheus assures him. His hair is sticking straight out, like a furious cat, and he’s starting to lose coherence around the edges. His coat swirls off into shadow like heavy ink in water, his eyes are as fathomless as deep space, and his fingers elongate into razor-sharp and obsidian-tipped claws. “Time has stopped for them. When it resumes, it will be as if the lost moments never happened. ”

Not all of them, Hob thinks, seeing Johanna’s eyes darting around the room with terrified fury. He decides not to point it out, though, in case the Lightbringer decides to do something permanent and terrible about it. He just gives her a long look, and tries to put as much reassurance in his expression as he can. I’ll get us out of here safely, don’t you worry.

Johanna blinks back once, slow and squinty like a cat. Message received.

A quick glance also confirms that the rest of the Otherworld denizens have made themselves as sparse as the Snake. He doesn't blame them.

Then, finally, when he’s assured himself that everyone under his roof and thus in his care is as safe as they can be, with the literal Ruler of Hell sharing that selfsame roof, he skirts around the bar to join Morpheus on the empty dance floor. Only then does he allow all of his attention to settle on his new visitor.

They are… tall . ‘Grand’ is the adjective that comes to mind first, followed by ‘statuesque’ and ‘ literally awe-inspiring’.

That’s an angel , Hob things. Or at least, they used to be. Of course they’re so… present. So overwhelming.

It’s like having all of his senses buffeted all at once–all he can smell is the acrid tang of sulfur, all he can hear is a high-pitched screech, all he can see is an overwhelming brightness that might actually be an overwhelming darkness, and his skin feels like it’s covered with biting fire ants. He gasps, reaching out clumsily behind him to clutch at the bar, the crush of the gravitas emanating from the corner stealing the breath from his lungs.

One of Morpheus’ fingers stretches out, impossible and eerie. It taps Hob gently on the forehead, right where his third eye would be, if he was that kind of spiritual. The drowning rush of screaming discomfort snaps off, like a faucet cranked shut. Air rushes back into the room. 

“Be not afraid,” my hairy arse , Hob thinks, as he coughs and scrubs his eyes again. It’s a wonder the blessed virgin didn’t shriek her head off and go running off into the night.

“I’m… I’m fine,” he reassures Morpheus, as his friend shuffles a step closer, hand resting protectively on Hob’s shoulder.

It takes him a few seconds to actually see what he’s seeing. Satan themself is presenting as a white woman, with fair, severely arranged golden curls that resemble nothing so much as a crown of thorns across their forehead. What Hob took for giant bat wings is actually a luxuriously patterned black pashmina, draped artfully over across one shoulder, over a rich white tea-length dress.

For being the ruler of Hell, Hob has to admit that they actually look… well, glamorous . 

“Hello, Robert Gadling,” Lucifer Morningstar purrs from the empty stage in the corner of the pub. It’s little more than a triangular riser jammed against the wall, just big enough for a tall stool, a mic stand, and some folksy performer on Sunday afternoons. But it gives them an even greater height from which to look down their nose at him, so of course that’s where they manifested. “I am ever so grateful to be included.”

“Er, yeah,” Hob says, pushing himself upright and wiping his clammy hands on the thighs of his jeans. “Welcome, then.”

“ Hob ,” Morpheus says, scandalized. Shadows writhe anxiously in a puddle by his feet, the Nightmare side of Dream closer to the surface in his worry. 

“What?” Hob says. “Doesn’t hurt anyone to be polite.”  Hob steps forward and holds out his now-dry hand for the Devil to shake.

“Certainly not,” Lucifer agrees, and takes his hands between theirs. They pull him forward a few more steps, pressing his fingers between their palms as if they could taste his sins on his skin, and peers down at him with intelligent eyes the same color of the storm clouds outside. “And it’s been ever so long since I’ve been to a party .”

Hob cranes his head back to look up at them. They’re just a handspan away now, only their entwined arms between them keeping them parted, and for an absurd moment, he thinks that Lucifer is going to kiss him. Morpheus must think so too, because he lets loose a ripping growl, warning and threat in the sound to rival the thunderstorm outside.

Lucifer laughs and lets Hob go. They take a dainty step down from the stage, and sashay their way toward the bar on totteringly-high bleach-white pumps.

“I, uh, I‘ve got wine and beer,” Hob says, spinning around and scrambling to catch up with them. “Or anything harder. Or softer. Whatever you like, really. What can I pour for you?”

“Red wine, naturally,” the Devil purrs.

They stop at the bar just an arm's length from Morpheus, a clear challenge. They lean elegantly on one elbow against the padded edge, eyeing him up like they’d either like to eat him alive or gouge his eyes out. Possibly both. Hob slips between them like a fleshy immortal shield. Maybe it won’t actually keep them from lashing out at each other but, meh, he can’t die if they do.

He reaches over the bar, grabs one of the open bottles of Syrah, a glass from the rack above their heads, and pours a generous measure. He holds it out genteely to the Devil, and they accept it with good grace.

Hob then immediately refills Morpheus’ abandoned glass with his Vinsanto, and tops up his own with an awkward backwards reach for the amber tap. 

“So… are you gonna release them?” Hob asks, once Lucifer has raised their glass for a clink, and he’s very cautiously obliged. It feels like bad luck to drink from it right away, though, so he turns to offer the same toast to Morpheus, who stares hard at Hob as they clink glasses, as if he’s drilling a blessing into Hob’s skull.

“No, I think not,” Lucifer says, taking their first sip, and offering Hob an appreciative eyebrow bounce at the taste. “No need to cause a panic. But don’t worry; I shan’t stay for long. I only wanted to pop in and wish my new friend many happy returns.”

“Is that what we are?” Hob asks, with a huge gulp of beer. “Friends?”

“Of course!” Lucifer says, their eyes narrowing a little, shoulders tensing up, lips slimming tightly and… “We are friends, aren’t we Robert Gadling? Why else would you have extended your invitation to all who know the true number of your years?”

Which is… a bit of an odd thing for the Lightbringer to be worried about, honestly.

Hob looks again. There’s nerves there. There’s concern. Why would…

Oh . Hob thinks. They’re lonely, too.

Hob risks a glance back at Morpheus, who is clutching the stem of his wineglass tight enough that it’s creaking. His eyes are leaking purple-black starstuff around the perimeters, which whisps away like the leading edge of a fast-moving cloud. Otherwise, he's perfectly still, posture ramrod straight.

“Yes,” Hob answers, turning back to Lucifer. “Yes, we are friends. Why not? I’ve no quarrel with you, unless you’re here to drag me to Hell?”

Whatever it was the Devil was expecting Hob to say, it wasn’t that. They look first genuinely surprised, then flattered, then secretly pleased, then distraught in such quick succession that Hob barely has time to pass each expression as they pass over their face.

“Of course not!” Lucifer says, so quickly and so completely surprised that it comes out in a rush. They sound genuinely hurt at his assumption. “My kingdom only contains those human souls who believe they should be there. They send themselves to Hell. Please. I have better manners than to drag anyone against their belief and will.” They narrow their eyes at Hob and take another sip of wine, struggling to regain their teasing nonchalance. “Why, have you done something worthy of punishment?”

Many things, Hob thinks. Terrible things. Things I just hope one day I live long enough to be able to atone for. 

“Ah, well, this isn’t about my death,” Hob hedges. “Which I am still not interested in, thank you very much. This is a celebration of my life!”

“It is indeed. Happy six hundred and sixty-sixth birthday, Robert,” Lucifer says, and they clink glasses once more. 

“Hob,” he offers up. “My friends in the know call me Hob.”

“ Hob, ” Morpheus hisses again. “ You are being unwise. ”

“I’m being personable ,” Hob corrects, but takes a tiny step back, closer into Morpheus’s orbit, to appease him. One of the swirling black shadows wraps around Hob’s ankle.

“Dream Lord!” Lucifer greets him, sounding as if they have just noticed him behind Hob for the first time. “What a delight to see you again so soon.”

“Lightbringer, ” Morpheus growls in return. 

“And how do you know our dear little birthday boy?”

Morpheus lets out another grumbling snarl, all without changing the placidly haughty expression on his face.

“Robert Gadling is my head priest, as well you know, ” Morpheus intones, voice as deep and dangerous as the fathomless darkness at the bottom of an ocean. “ You stand in my temple uninvited. ”

“Just as you bullied your way into Hell?” Lucifer asks silkily. They sip their wine showily. “Besides, I was invited, wasn’t I?”

Both pairs of eyes fall on Hob, their weight like a physical blow, and he buys himself some time by taking a long drink of his beer. Which, of course, goes down the wrong pipe, and leaves him coughing like a complete tit in front of two of the greatest powers in the universe.

Oh yeah, that’s me. Hob “embarrassingly human” Gadling.

Morpheus sets down his wine and hastily lays a hand on Hob’s curved back. It’s probably meant to be as possessive as it is calming, but at this point, Hob doesn’t mind. It feels good to have the comfort of his friend’s proximity. And the very visible gesture of his claiming and protection.

“I see I am in danger of wearing out my welcome,” Lucifer sighs, as if put upon. They finish their wine in a serpent-like gulp, opening their jaws wider than the mouth of their human-shape ought to allow, and set the glass aside. 

“Quite.”

"In which case, allow me to present me with your gift unto you now, Robert Gadling of Essex," Lucifer says.

With a flourish, they're suddenly cupping something spindly and large in both their palms. It is the ivory of old bone, gnarled and pitted, and looks nothing so much as a big, eldritch key. There’s a circle at the top, crowned with four spikes, and the teeth on the shaft look as if they may be made of actual fangs.

And, of course, much like Morpheus’ cactus, it is topped with a whimsical, cheery red bow.

Morpheus lets out a horrified gasp.

“I had intended on bestowing this differently,” Lucifer drawls, eyeing Morpheus meaningfully. “But as it is in poor form to attend a birthday party with no gift for the celebrant.”

She turns the full weight of her gravitationally heavy gaze on Hob.

“Er… thank you?” Hob asks.

“You will not, soon enough.”

Yeah, okay, that sounds like a trap , Hob thinks. But with no clue how or even why he might refuse the gift from a literal fallen angel, and what the eternal ramifications of that action might be he does, Hob reaches out to take the key.

“ Do not accept! ” Morpheus all but wails. “ If you become ruler of Hell, you will never again cross the threshold into my realm.”

That’s saying a little more than I think Morpheus means to , Hob thinks, fingers frozen in the air, hovering above the ribbon. It sounds less like “you’ll be barred from my realm” and more “I’ll never see you again.”

“Is that true?” Hob asks. "This will make me ruler of Hell ?"

Lucifer smirks triumphantly.  “I have already emptied Hell of all its demons. The gates are shut. Even now, the fires ash and grow cold. I have renounced my crown. A new King is required. They who next touch this Key will become that King.”

Hob shudders, short hair springing up, skin crawling with horror. Demons. Loose on Earth. Loose everywhere . And unable to be commanded to return to Hell by exorcism or spell, for the gates would be barred to them.

He cuts a look to Johanna, who is clearly following all of this. There are tears running down her cheeks. Sweat breaks out on Hob's brow, heart pounding hard behind his ribs, dread creeping down his spine. He hasn't felt this sunk with terror since he first came face-to-face with a machine gun in a muddy trench.

He's being given a choice.

It's not much of a choice.

Hob licks his lips, hoping his voice is steadier than his trembling, hovering hands.  “What happens if I don’t accept your gift?” he crackles, voice barely above a whisper.

“Then I will think that you have very poor manners indeed,” Lucifer pouts. 

Hob's breath shudders out of him, leaving his skin cold and nerves on high alert. “That’s all?”

"Of course, I will then have to bestow the Key upon the next most worthy candidate,” Lucifer says, eyes slinking up to Morpheus over Hob’s shoulder like toxic honey and, ah, there it is.

There’s the trap.

If Hob accepts the Key, he will become King of Hell, and never see Morpheus again. But he could command the armies of the damned back into their pits, and possibly, like he has in his little kingdom here on Earth, find new and better ways to help those there punishing themselves.

But if Morpheus accepts the Key, then Dream of the Endless will become King of Hell, plunging every sentient being in existence into unspeakable horror every time they fall asleep.

Which makes Hob’s choice a very, very simple one.

Before Morpheus can stop him, Hob plucks the key out of Lucifer’s hand. 

" Hob !" Morpheus wails.

He reels back, as if all the places he was touching Hob suddenly burn him. The floor shudders beneath their feet, the foundations rumbling without warning. Thunder? Hob guesses, then, No, earthquake!

The room shakes with the power of Morpheus' fury and agony. Hob grasps at the bar to stay upright, and wonders if now that its head priest has become overlord of another realm, the temple of the New Inn will defile and crack apart around them all.

Morpheus keens like a wounded hart, clutching at his chest. He staggers, rocked by the judder of the floor, what little color he had manufactured for this humanish form draining away entirely. Outside, Matthew is cawing furiously, battering against the window in a desperate attempt to break in.

Hob's stomach heaves, and he's not sure if it's from the shaking of the building, or the enormity of what he's just done. What he's just accepted.

“What, no kiss for my gift, your Majesty?” Lucifer laughs, shrill and triumphant. 

They seize Hob's face between red-taloned hands, and press a fire-hot, acid-slick mouth against his. Hob screams , the crawling burn of his flesh melting from his lips outwards throwing his animal mind into a mindless, terrified panic. Someone's hands fist in the back of his jumper, yanking at him, but the Devil's grip has seared him down to the bone, fingers embedded in his cheeks, nails scraping against the side of his teeth and tongue. The searing agony reaches his eyes, sizzles in his tears, so all he can see is the poisonous green steam of his own eyeballs boiling in their sockets.

Glass shatters, a bird cries out, a door slams open, cracking against a wall, a sonorous voice calls his name, and Hob flails, kicks, screams, and screams, and screams and—

"Forgive me, I am a titch late. I got caught up reading and… goodness me!" a prim voice gasps. "Well, this won't do at all!"

A loud noise, like a fleshy crack, rings out. 

As suddenly as a snap, the pain is gone.

Hob gargles on the tail end of a scream that aborts somewhere behind his teeth. 

His nose is filled with the scent of the rain and the petrichor from the gravel drive beyond a broken window and a wide-standing door, not with the reek of burning flesh. His heart races wildly, but it is still within his body. The rigid tension of his hell-electrified muscles ceases and Hob flops backwards, dropping against Morpheus' chest. Strong arms come around his chest Morpheus tilts his pelvis to cradle Hob's sacrum, one strong thigh behind his legs to keep from folding. He plays one hand up Hob's throat, caressing, paling his face, checking for damage and soothing all at the same time.

Hob pries his aching lids open, and finds his eyes have not boiled away after all.

The New Inn is unshaken, all in one piece, save for the way the front door is hanging off its hinges, cracked straight down the middle. The person who did it is obscured by Hob's view by the coffee machine, and the little, forlorn-looking cactus.

"What did you do to him?" Matthew caws from the mic stand, puffed out to twice his size, wings spread and a murderous gleam in his eyes. "What the fuck did you do to him?"

" I will end your miserable existence! I will throw you into the sulfurous lake from which you should never have crawled, you worthless, lothesome, hateful—"

"I'm fine!" Hob chokes out, feeling like he's vomiting up half his esophagus with every syllable. "I'm fine! " 

" Your dare! I will tear your atoms apart and scatter them across so many universes that you will never again—"

" — peck your fucking eyes out — "

"Oh, dear! I do apologize, I believe I broke your door in, I'm so sorry, my dear boy—

"Guys," Hob gags. "Just let me catch my breath…"

And before him, unmoving and unperturbed by the overlapping, rising threats and verbal assaults, Lucifer watches him with a knowing, miserable look on their face.

"Enough! Quiet!" Hob thrust the Key into the air, and silence drops like a guillotine. He heaves on a few more breaths, then swallows hard, licking his lips. In an agonized, throat-shredded whisper he adds, "Please."

Because it never hurts to use one's manners.

Slowly, agonizingly, with the gentle help of Morpheus, Hob gets his feet back under him. The first thing he does is reach for his half-finished pint and drain the glass. The alcohol burns its way down, and Hob tastes the faintest touch of blood. Christ's nails, how loud had he been screaming?

Feeling more settled, he turns to face Lucifer.

Whose lipstick and painted fingernails are still utterly pristine.

They… they didn't kiss him.

"You…" Hob pants. "You didn't do that?"

"No," Lucifer says softly, and folds their hands together with elegant contriteness, fingers pointed downward in a reverse prayer. 

"But you," Hob starts, then has to stop to swallow the bloody spittle that his screaming has produced. "You know what just happened?"

"The Key does it," Lucifer whispers. "Changes you. Every Devil needs a Face."

"I don't want a Devil Face," Hob says stubbornly.

Lucifer smiles, but it's thin and pained. "You don't get to choose."

Hob snarls and drops the Key onto the bar top. He half expects it to be stuck to his palm, or burned into his flesh. But it falls from his grip easily and lands with an unsatisfying clack . Morpheus, still hovering at Hob's side like Peter Pan's shadow, reaches out for it.

Hob smacks his hand away. "Don't you fucking dare."

" I would not see you suffer—"

"And I would not see all of humanity suffer, so you just fucking back right up there, friend."

Morpheus lowers his arm, but utterly fails to back up. If anything he presses closer. If the skinny little fuck had any bodyheat to speak of, Hob was sure he'd be feeling it through his own clothes right now.

The man by the door steps out of Hob's blindspot behind the coffee machine, and comes around to stand a respectful distance away, and peer at the Key. It's the queer little Bookseller of Soho. Late to the party, because he got caught up in reading, and Hob couldn't be more grateful for his perpetual absentminded tardiness.

“Well!" the Bookseller exclaims. "That’s where that silly old thing has gotten to! You would not believe the fuss that has kicked up in The Silver City. If you’ll give me just a moment…” He snaps once, a downward motion, as if yanking on an old-fashioned Edwardian-era bell pull.

A golden chime rings through the air and the Bookseller nods as if he's done some sort of momentous good deed. "Help is on the way, dear boy. But, ah, I would be ever so grateful if you did not tell them it was me who alerted them? I couldn't bear the paperwork."

And with that, the Bookseller is straight back out the door, which, miraculously, isn't actually broken off its hinges like Hob had thought it was. Turns out the window isn't broken either; it must have been a glass Matthew knocked over on his desperate flight inside.

Lucifer, very graciously, and very apologetically, refills Hob's pint glass by reaching over the bar for the tap, as Hob had done. Hob takes the pint (half head and spilling over the side; Hob guesses the Devil can't be good at everything ) with a nod of thanks. His hand is shaking so badly that Morpheus has to steady his arm just so he can drink.

"Well, friend," Hob says to Lucifer, once he's had a few long pulls on the cold fizz. "That was a hell of a party trick."

Lucifer snorts extremely inelegantly. "Pun intended?"

"Entirely."

" After what you suffered, you would still call the Morningstar friend ?" Morpheus asks, horror in every syllable.

"They didn't do whatever that just was to me," Hob points out. "The Key did. In fact, if that's what it feels like to hold it, then honestly, I don't blame you for wanting rid of the literally damned thing."

Lucifer's red, red, red lips part in gentle shock. They touch one lacquered nail to their own soft, pale cheek, then brush their palm across their neck as if double checking that the flesh there is indeed intact.

"You are generous in your forgiveness, sire," Lucifer says demurely.

"No more generous than all those who punish themselves in Hell for their past deeds deserve, I think," Hob says back. Including you , he doesn't add. But he doesn't need to.

Lucifer offers Hob a grateful bow.

Matthew makes a confused sort of snorfle sound. He hops his way down and across the room to Morpheus, who stoops to allow Matthew to perch on his hand, then transfers the raven to his shoulder.

"So now what, my lords?" Matthew croaks tentatively.

"Now we wait for whatever help was supposedly—" 

Another unexpected surge of light interrupts Hob, and he squints against a golden flash-bulb flare of it. When it clears, two male-presenting beings that could literally only be angels stand before them. 

This corner of the pub is starting to get awfully crowded, Hob thinks with all the hysterical sarcasm his ordeal allows him to muster.

The angels are both statuesque, both blonde, both clad in raiments of glowing white, with enormous golden wings. Hob glances at Lucifer, who rolls their eyes as the pompous way the angels carry themselves.

"Dream King," one of them says in deferential greeting. Both of the angels bow low to Morpheus.

" Remiel, Archangel of Hope.  Duma, Archangel of Silence. Your presence in this moment is most welcome." 

Morpheus inclines his head in a shallow bow, not letting on that it was the Bookseller who called them here, as asked. Hob doesn't know much about the hierarchy of celestial beings, but if the depth of their bows and nods to one another are anything to go by, Morpheus is a lot higher on the celestial pecking order than Lucifer's address to him has made it seem.

"Thank you," the one who is clearly not the Archangel of Silence says. "And our gratitude, also, for summoning us."

As one, the two archangels turn to the fallen one.

"Lucifer," Remiel says.

"Brother dearest," Lucifer sneers.

"The Divine Creator demands that you take up the Key and return to your throne."

"It's not my throne any longer," Lucifer sneers. "It's his now."

Remiel spares a glance over his shoulder at Hob that makes it very, very clear that the imperious twat thinks Hob is not much more evolved than pond gunk. The angel turns back to Lucifer.

"A mortal cannot rule Hell."

"Not mortal," Hob speaks up, just because he does not appreciate being snubbed in his own pub. And on his own birthday, to boot.

"Still human , though," Remiel sneers, the facade of literally-holier-than-thou superiority cracking a bit.

"And what's so wrong with being hummmuph," Matthew harrumphs as Morpheus reaches up and pinches his beak shut.

"Oh, well, guilty as charged then," Hob sneers right back, shoving his hands into his pockets and slouching his shoulders in the most insolent way he knows how.

Duma strides silently to Hob's side. Gently, but inexorably, the angel takes Hob's chin between his fingers, and holds his face still for his gaze.

"Doesn't hurt any more," Hob answers the ethereal creature's silent question. "But now we've got a bit of a problem, if you say a human can't rule Hell. Because it looks like it's either me, or Morpheus, and we all know what will happen if Dream of the Endless is forced to don that crown."

Duma's gaze grows tearful and sad. He shakes his head, just once, then releases Hob. Then, with the same hand, he reaches for the Key.

"Brother!" Remiel gasps, grabbing at his draped sleeve to stop him.

Matthew shakes free of Morpheus's fingers and, in a resounding voice that is clearly not his own, booms: "Hell cannot be entrusted to other than those who serve the Name directly… I shall take over Hell."  The raven shakes himself all over, blinking rapidly. "What the fuck was that, boss?" He turns his sharp beak toward Duma. "Hey, don't use me as a puppet, man, that's violating!"

"Duma, no ," Remiel protests, but halts in the face of Duma's implacable silence. Remiel curls into himself in shame. "Very well. I cannot allow my fellow to drink from a cup I have refused. I will go with you."

"Have fun, boys," Lucifer sing-songs. "Oh, and there's a bit of a trick to getting the cold water in the palace pipes. There isn't any! Ha!"

Remiel sends Lucifer the stinkiest stink-eye Hob's ever seen in six hundred and sixty-six years.

Duma reaches for the key again and Hob is struck with a sudden flash of inspiration.

“Wait!” he shouts, throwing out a hand to block the Key. He doesn't touch it again though. He's reckless, not stupid.

"Wait?" Remiel echoes, agog. " Wait ? Who are you to command the Host to—"

"I'm the King of the Hell," Hob challenges back, puffing out his chest. "At least until you touch this Key."

"You are no Demonic Monarch, you lowly—"

“Oh, stuff it,” Hob snaps at Remiel, sick to the teeth with being polite to Celestial entities to clearly don’t feel the same courtesy toward him. “Before I give you the key, I want something in return. And I'm not giving up my one and only chance to do a deal as the Devil.”

Lucifer laughs, overjoyed. Morpheus makes a worried, confused sound. In the corner, Johanna's eyes narrow in concern.

But none of that matters. Because Hob’s remembered, all of a sudden, what Matthew had gossiped about, when he was recounting the parts of Morpheus’ trip to Hell that his friend had left out.

The boss stopped at this… this window in a spire, and a woman had called out for him with a name I’d never heard before, the raven had slurred, deep in his cups one evening while Morpheus had been trapped in the Library and sent Matthew for Tuesday Hangs in his stead. She’d reached for him through the bars, tugged on his coat, sobbing. She thought he’d come to rescue her and instead he just left there, like some heartless– He’d mantled his feathers then, shaking his head in a very human gesture like trying to disperse a bad memory. I asked Lucienne about her. She was sixteen, man, she was a kid, and the boss did her pretty dirty. She was heartbroken. It’s ugly.

Remiel bristles, the small feathers along the upper curve of their glossy white wings frazzling in irritation. “You do not bargain with God,” they hiss.

“But our absentee parent not here, my sycophantic sibling,” Lucifer purrs. “And Robert Gadling has not yet abdicated. Hell is his gift to bestow. Or to hoard. Oh, do say you will hoard it instead, little man. It will vex our creator so.”

“No,” Hob says, horrified by the idea of being sole ruler of all suffering for the rest of eternity, and being barred from Dream and the Dreaming to boot. 

Lucifer shrugs, like it was worth one last try.

"Very well," Remiel grits out, sounding like every word is costing them a gallon of golden ichor.

“Nada,” Hob says. "She goes free."

Morpheus clutches hard at Hob's shoulder in his shock. " How do you know her name? How—"

"Not now," Hob says gently to his oldest friend, taking his hand from his shoulder, and twining their fingers together behind his back. Then turns his best flinty, bandit's glare at the angels. "Nada is released in exchange for the Key. Those are my terms."

"We cannot simply release a soul from Hell," Remiel says slowly, as if explaining to a toddler. "Without a corporation, it will be naught but a ghost."

"Then give her a corporation," Lucifer says, studying their nails as if bored. "We both know the paperwork is not as persnickety as the Quartermasters make it out to be. There's stacks lying around, waiting to be inhabited."

"Sibling!" Remiel hisses at Lucifer in warning. The former devil just bares their teeth at him. Remiel tries a different tack: "The Dream King condemned her to Hell himself. We cannot give her leave until he recants—"

Hob steps on Morpheus's foot.

Hard.

" I recant!" Morpheus yelps, glaring daggers at Hob. Then he clears his throat and resumes his customary haughty expression. "Nada has been unjustly punished, and it has gone on far too long. I recant my oath, and rescind my ire. Nada is no longer prisoner by my will, nor my pleasure."

Remiel gawps.

"A new life for Nada," Hob repeats firmly, bringing the conversation back to its point. "Reincarnation. A chance to do it all again, without suffering, in return for the Key. Are we agreed?"

Duma looks between Remiel, Morpheus, and Hob.

" Agreed ," Matthew booms, and then squawks: "Man, fuck off!"

"It is done."

Hob removes his hand from the bar.

Duma grasps the Key.

The only indication that it is paining him, that it is burning his face off even as Hob is staring at him and nothing is happening outwardly, is a slight squinching of his features. Remiel makes a disgusted sound and gestures with his hand, and the faint echo of a newborn baby's cry vaults through the room, perfectly audible over the susurrus of the gentling thunderstorm.

New life.

And she shares Hob's birthday.

How about that.

"The bargain is fulfilled," Remiel spits with disgust. "Brother, come."

Both angels snap their wings out—one of Remiel's slapping Lucifer in the face, clearly intentionally by the snarl they let loose—and in the powerful thrust of a gong-like wingbeat, are gone. The Key is gone with them.

Hob immediately squeezes Morpheus's hand tight and turns to gauge whether he's fucked up their friendship forever.

Surely, surely, Morpheus must be furious at Hob for overstepping so completely. Nada had gone to Hell because she'd died by suicide, but she'd only killed herself because Dream of the Endless had seduced her against the rules that forbade him for lying with a mortal ( Do I count as a mortal? Hob wonders frantically, Would we be punished if—focus, Gadling! ) and her people had been slaughtered in retribution. And Morpheus, in his pride, had left her to rot there when she refused his hand in return for rescue. It had all been, quite frankly, some epically toxic masculinity bullshit , and Hob is prepared to square off with his friend about it if he has to. 

He doesn't want to, of course, but for the sake of a soul left suffering through no wrong of her own, he will.

But instead, he finds Morpheus limp with shock, silently weeping.

"Hob," Morpheus gasps. " Hob, my priest, my devoted one." He surges forward, anoints Hob's forehead and palms with holy, reverent kisses. The last of the lingering pain from the Key's hold  is washed away in the cool calmness of deep sleep and deeper night. It flows down his skin, making him shiver as Hob is consecrated Head Priest once more.  "How beneficent your human heart is. And how shamed I am, that it took you to force me to do right by one I had scorned unjustly and unkindly."

"Yeah, well, don't you forget it," Hob says, when Morpheus pulls away. He rubs his face, weary in a way that he hasn't felt in… well, ever. "So, are we done now? Can we… can we be done now, please? I have a party to—" he looks around the room, at all the people here under his invitation, under his burden of care. "To save."

"By all means," Lucifer says. "They will awaken as soon as I go."

" Then go," Morpheus invites, with no little amount of bitchy snark.

Lucifer offers him a hard stare, but after a moment, relents without retaliation. "I shall make my farewells to you then, Robert Gadling, from one former Monarch of Hell to another."

They lean forward and buss a gentle, warm kiss off of Hob's cheek.

“Where will you go?” Hob asks, as they withdraw. “If Hell isn’t your domain any more, what are your plans?”

“Why, stay here, of course,” Lucifer says. Then they look around at the cramped room, the stuffy air, the frozen mortals. “Well, perhaps not here , here. But as I said, it’s been ever so long since I’ve been invited to a party. I’ve forgotten how fun they can be. Perhaps I will find some space to host my own sinful little celebrations.”

“Like… a nightclub?” Hob asks, wracking his brain for what they may mean.

Lucifer’s eyes spark with intrigue. “Now that is an idea,” they murmur. “A nightclub . There’s all sorts of wicked things a soul may get into there. I’ll send you an invitation to the grand opening, Hob dearest. In thanks for tonight.”

“You know what,” Hob says, finding he really means it when he says: “I look forward to it.”

The former Devil blinks, obviously not anticipating or expecting his favorable response.

“See you then, my friend,” Hob says, holding out a hand to shake.

“Is that a binding promise?” Lucifer asks slyly, reaching back.

“Absolutely not,” Hob laughs. “I know better than to make a deal with the devil. Again.” He cuts a wink at Morpheus, who wrinkles his nose petulantly. “But you tell me when and where, and I’ll try.”

“That is acceptable,” Lucifer acquiesces, and shakes his hand not to seal a deal, but in a companionable farewell.

“Oh!” Hob says, as a dark cloud of absolutely rotten-smelling smokes begins to billow around their smart white pumps. “I used to play some violin, in the 18th century. Should I bring it?”

Lucifer breaks into a wide, frankly dorky grin of sheer delight. “No, friend. I haven’t picked up a fiddle since I lost that bout. I’m more of a piano man, now.”

And before Hob can think of anything clever to say to that, the cloud envelopes the Devil, and they are gone.

“-- the hell was that! ” Patrick shouts from beside Hob, right in his ear, and Hob startles away, nearly falling on his arse in surprise.

Hob catches himself on a bar stool, heart hammering in his throat, as all around him the humans resume moving and talking as if the massive clap of thunder that had shaken the Inn had occurred just a second ago.

“Someone should go check if that hit the pub!” one of Hob’s colleagues says, and grabs an umbrella from the stand of forgotten ones by the door and ducking outside before he can see who it was. “No! All good! No fire!”

Johanna Constantine bounds across the room like she's a bolt of lightning herself. Hob braces for a punch in the nose, and gets wrapped in a tight embrace instead. "You mad bastard," Johanna hisses in his ear. "You mad, incredible, pig-shit bonkers bastard ."

"Yeah, that's me," Hob says sheepishly, squeezing her back.

"Happy birthday!" she says, smacks a ridiculous kiss off his mouth, and then crosses back across the room, grabs Ric by the sleeve, and pulls her through the kitchen and—by the sounds of the slamming door—into the back where the bins make a conveniently shadowed corner.

"Yeah, nobody go back there for a while," Hob announces to the handful of people watching what had just happened with open curiosity.

"Ew," Patrick grumps. He does a double take when he catches Morpheus and Matthew on the far side of the bar, several empty glasses before him that he obviously didn't put there.

For a moment, Hob is worried that his co-owner is going to put up a fuss about the live animal in the building, but then Patrick shrugs in the way that mortals encouraged to overlook Morpheus' oddities by the very nature of his existence do. He busses the empties, and moves on to the next customer.

Hob, not inclined at all to overlook Morpheus, leans on the bar beside him, and grins up at his oldest, and strangest friend.

" Are all your birthday celebrations this eventful, Hob Gadling? " Morpheus asks, eyebrow raised coyly, as Matthew attempts to preen the last of his wet feathers into laying right.

"Nah," Hob promises. "Just the milestones."

" Then I already dread the party you will throw to mark your first millennia."

Hob, who has just enough beer left in his glass to toast Morpheus and toss back the mouthful, does so. Then he chuckles ruefully. "I don't, my friend. Not in the least. As a former Monarch of Hell, I have a feeling my life will be even more interesting in the decades to come." He drops Morpheus a cheeky wink. "And I have so much to live for."

On the far side of the pub, someone shuts off all the lights. A spark of candlelight goes up, and, raised in chorus, everyone that Hob holds dear—in the here and now—begins to sing.

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[kingliamappreciationweek]

THE THROWBACK MASTERLIST - KLAW 2023

This year, we got a lot of entries for our Throwback Day! So much so, that we decided to eliminate the clutter in the masterlist by putting these awesome pieces in a separate list! Here are some of our old gems for all you Liam stans to enjoy! The full KLAW masterlist will be out after 29th April when the buffer week ends, so until then enjoy these gems as well as the newer pieces from our talented stans!! 😁😁

Here are the entries in alphabetical order of author:

ART (+ HEADCANON )

Liam's First Child by @topsyturvy-dream

Liam and Riley by @twinkleallnight

FANFICTION

@angelasscribbles:

King Breaker

Betrayal

Mistakes

Mother in Law Hell

The Dark Prince from Dark Elf

Chapter 8: Liam from the collaborative series Mardi Gras Mayhem

@ao719

Breaking Point (Series)

@bebepac

A Love Story - As Told By Liam and Riley

@cassiopeiacorvus

A Lesson In Sources

@lizzybeth1986

Eleanor's Kitchen (Series)

That Old Grape Juice (Series)

@sfb123

Sapere Aude (Series)

@sincerelyella

All In My Head - Part 1

Aching For You: Memories

Everything Has Changed - New Deep (Ch 1)

Come On Drake, Take Off Your Shirt and Tell Us!

Adorn You

@twinkleallnight

Once Upon A Time: Liam and Savannah

@txemrn

A Collection of Liam Fics

MOODBOARDS

@lorirwritesfanfic

King Liam

Pasta Carbonara

If you'd like to send in more pieces for Throwback, let us know! We will add them to this list.

Happy King Liam Appreciation Week, everyone!!

If you have accidentally missed your entry in this list, we sincerely apologize. Do let us know and we will add the link too 💙

KLAW 2023 - Part 1

KLAW 2023 - Part 2