#you have 'stuffy rich mayor'

[not-poignant]

Hi Pia!! All the posts you’ve made for STWD have really caught my interest, but I know absolutely nothing about Stardew Valley. Will that be a barrier if I try to read your fanfiction? The concepts look soooo interesting and I really want to read it, but I also hate being confused all the time lol.

Hi hi anon!!

You don't need to know anything about Stardew Valley!

There will be a few things in the story that are 'weird' (think like: 'oh this isn't how the real world works because this is game mechanics' - like a house being built in a few days lol), but otherwise this reads a lot like a contemporary story with original characters!

Because the game is mostly just about regular people living regular lives in a country town that's close to the sea, both of my SDV fics read a lot like original stories/novels, and so it should actually be pretty easy to just go in!

And if you have any questions you can always ask me here or in the comments :D I definitely think this won't be confusing like some of my other fanfics (The Beast that Chose its Own Bridle is probably the hardest one to to get into for that reason). I've had a lot of readers of my first Stardew fic say that it basically reads like a standalone original novel. And I think A Stain that Won't Dissolve will be similar.

It's definitely worth giving a try to see how you feel about it! I honestly think you'll know by the first chapter if it's going to be too confusing or not! <3

[angelsknifeprty]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ a night to remember

summary: while infiltrating the mayor’s party, arthur’s surrounded by the boring buzz of all the high society bigwigs who came to show off their wealth. while snooping around for information on a potential score, the two of you seem to grab each other’s attention.

word count: 2684

a/n: eat the rich.

ways to help palestine | operation olive branch | keep eyes on sudan | haiti’s history | learn about congo

‧₊˚౨ৎ

arthur wasn’t exactly in his element, surrounded by all the high society lowlifes that had attended this flashy party of the mayor’s. sure, he liked robbing them, but actually mingling with them? not a way he’d prefer to spend his evening. but dutch had insisted, going on about wanting to make “real contacts”. so here he was cooped up in a carriage with dutch, hosea and bill. he had loosened up a little on the ride there, the complimentary bottle of champagne definitely helped with that. after they arrive and converse with that… eccentric signor bronte, dutch sends him off to go and mingle with the party-goers and to talk to the mayor if he can. he was certain they’d find some information here, the steady flow of alcohol with plenty to go around hopefully loosening the lips of these rich socialites.

meanwhile, you are sitting at your now abandoned table, fan in hand, your family who you had come with now lost in the crowd to engage in undoubtedly dull conversation. truly, you didn’t enjoy gatherings like this or the people your family chose to associate with. they were all scum, to put it lightly, in constant competition among themselves to see who could flaunt the most wealth. they bored you, so you chose to keep mostly to yourself during these events. you sighed, the stuffiness of your corset now painfully noticeable as there wasn’t much to keep you occupied as you scanned the crowd of people all chatting away.

that was until you spotted him, floating around between different groups of people. it was often the same people you saw at parties like this, only the rich being invited of course and none of these people were ones to share their wealth. but he was an unfamiliar face, dressed up to the nines though there was a ruggedness about him that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. thankful to finally have something interesting, and rather pleasant you had to admit, to look at, you let your gaze linger on him as he rubbed shoulders with some of the people littered around the garden.

he seemed different to everyone else, a charm to him as you watched him pour champagne into the glasses of some fancy-looking women. he even stopped a guy from choking on a nut, which was truly a sight to behold. thankfully for him, not many people noticed, but you did have to cover the lower half of your face with your fan as you stifled your giggles to not draw attention to yourself.

as arthur continued to socialise, he spotted the mayor in a small huddle of people by the fountain. finally, he could start getting this night to come closer to an end. as he approached he decided to scan the area just to be safe when his eyes landed on you. all dolled up just as everyone else had been that he’d seen, though none caught his eye quite like you did. you were pretty, so much so that it made him falter for a moment in what was his confident stride towards the mayor and his companions. what really got him was that you were already looking at him, though not for much longer as you looked away almost immediately, wide-eyed and a little flustered that you’d been caught staring.

he had to snap himself back into reality, he had a job to do. so after letting his eyes linger on you for just a second more, he reluctantly turned his attention towards the mayor, smoothly inserting himself into the small cluster. you silently cursed to yourself, cheeks hot after he had locked eyes with you. you must’ve looked like such an outcast, sat alone and practically sulking, and now you looked like a bit of a creep, staring him down so rudely. though you couldn’t help but look back up again once you heard the angry protests of that lowlife ferdinand as he forcefully escorted him out.

you eventually decided to busy yourself and actually talk to some people, settling on a group of women you had chatted with at some other party your family had dragged you along to. it ended up not doing much to alleviate your boredom, their choice of conversation topics not ones that intrigued you greatly. but it would do for now, time passing just a tad bit faster now you aren’t sitting by yourself.

the conversation was loudly interrupted by a sudden explosion in the sky, fireworks starting to set off as they crackled into sparkly bursts, giving the dark night sky the splash of colour it was so void of. this being the most interesting thing you’d seen all night, you excused yourself from the group before weaving your way through the crowd to get a better look. as you did, arthur had caught onto part of a very interesting conversation one of the servants had struck up, something about that damned leviticus cornwall. so he decided to tail a good distance behind him, only the path he took led straight into you.

a surprised huff left your lips as his tall frame accidentally bumped into you, your footing becoming a little unstable from the impact. but in a heartbeat a pair of large hands settled on your arms, steadying you. “woah, sorry ‘bout that, sweetheart,” he apologises, hands remaining on your arms until he knew you were stable (and maybe just a tad bit longer). your words fail you at first from the surprise of the collision, as well as the fact that the man you’d been shamelessly staring at was now holding you upright. “oh! it’s alright,” you finally manage to say, virtually gawking at him like a fool. he removed his hands from you once he was sure you were steady on your feet, the loss of contact upsettingly noticeable to you. but now he was in front of you, perhaps this was an opportunity to actually talk to him as opposed to silently eyeing him down from your table. but just as you were about to ask for his name his attention seemed to be elsewhere and he quickly excused himself. “sorry, i uh- got somewhere to be. but i’ll see ya around, yeah?” he said in that gravelly voice of his. he began moving away from you, taking a few steps back with his eyes still fixated on you before turning and continuing in the direction he was going. in your experience, “see you around” was just a polite parting message and nothing more. nobody ever meant to follow up with it, but the way he said it sounded hopeful, and it made your heart beat just a little bit faster. but his urgency to leave also caught your interest, and you’d proven yourself to be quite nosy tonight so after a few moments of contemplation, you decided to follow after him.

you were worried you had lost him as you weaved through the crowd, losing sight of him completely amongst all the people. but after your eyes darted around the place you spotted him turning the corner and heading towards the steps. though he seemed a lot less urgent in his movements, almost like he was waiting for something. how strange… but all it did was pique your interest more. you waited until he had continued walking to follow behind him, trying to look inconspicuous to the other party-goers as you did. you watched as he snuck into the house, that much now obvious to you as you eyed his cautious movements. it was like a game of cat and mouse as he slinked through the large house, moving to fill his previous hiding spots as you tried not to get caught yourself. you were always one step behind him, heart thrumming in your chest as you followed after him.

this was completely out of character for you, always on your best behaviour, more so to please your parents than yourself. but here you were sneaking through the mayor’s house no less, all for some man you had barely spoken to. you were struggling to pin your actions down to pure boredom, perhaps a yearning for something actually exciting in your life. you eventually found him in what looked to be a study, rooting through the drawer under the mahogany desk inside. you tilted your head in curiosity as you spied from behind the wall, watching as he slipped a piece of paper into his jacket. his illicit behaviour truly didn’t bother you, people like the mayor had enough wealth and resources that you could steal from them and they probably wouldn’t even notice. though it did become a problem, at least for him, when you locked eyes once again through the gap in the door. only this time you had caught him stealing.

you probably should have moved and acted like you saw nothing but you felt frozen in place, how exactly were you supposed to explain yourself? you felt glued to the floor as he hastily approached you, an unreadable expression on his face. “come with me,” is all he mutters as he walks past you, expecting you to follow. unsure of what else to do, you comply and follow him down the stairs, your stomach swarming with anxiety. what if you had completely misread this man? you did just catch him stealing after all. when you reach the bottom of the steps he pulls you behind one of the pillars in the room that lead out to the balcony, surprisingly gentle with you. “ya seem like a smart girl so i’m not gonna bullshit my way outta this, but how about we just keep what you saw between us, alright? trust me, it’s not worth-”

“i wasn’t gonna tell anybody,” you quickly chime in, though you hated the way your voice wavered a little as you spoke. he was rather intimidating, his tall build towering over you as he caged you in against the cool material of the pillar. “truly, steal as much as you want from these lowlifes. they have far too much to even know what to do with it,” you admitted truthfully, genuine disgust lacing your tone. he seemed a little taken aback by your words, not expecting it to come from someone that looked like you at an event like this. he seemed to relax at your words which was a relief, the sinking feeling in your stomach dissipating. “your secret’s safe with me,” you add, your voice hushed. you offer him a genuine smile, finally being able to take him in now that he isn’t rushing after someone. he was handsome, a stubble beard on his chin with a scar dotted in the centre of it. a strand of his light brown hair fell across his forehead, escaping the rest that had been neatly tucked away behind his ear. it was hard to make out in this low lighting but you could’ve sworn you saw a ring of green within those blue eyes of his.

“well look at’chu, a deviant in disguise i suppose,” he says, his words far more lighthearted than you were expecting. though it was ironic as he was in fact a deviant in disguise. “i’m just not brainwashed like the rest of these folks,” you state matter of factly. he laughs softly, nodding in agreement. “that i can see.” as you shared hushed whispers he tried desperately not to let himself admire you. he was always hesitant when it came to feelings like this, his luck in the past not being all that great. but he’d be a fool to try and deny the obvious fact that you were breathtaking, not to mention a fellow hater of the rich despite your background. he hesitates for a second before speaking, “y’know, i never caught your name-” 

“there you are!” a voice interrupts the hushed nature of your conversation, an unfamiliar man stepping into view. arthur immediately backs away from you, looking almost embarrassed as the man approaches the two of you. the unnamed man turns to you, charmingly tipping his top hat at you as he greets you with a courteous, “ma’am.” you politely bow your head towards him, a sheepish smile on your face. “my apologies but i’m gonna have to steal him away,” he says before gesturing for arthur to follow him out to the balcony. and that is what he does, sending you an apologetic smile as he follows closely behind.

once he was gone you let out a much-needed exhale, your heart still pounding in your chest. you were unsure of what just happened, not understanding your desperate need to pursue this man as he slinked around the party. you moved from behind the pillar, looking through the glass doors to the balcony and settled your eyes on the mystery man once more as he spoke with whoever his companion was. you noticed as his eyes drifted back over to you, that same unreadable expression on his face. they didn’t linger for too long as his attention was snatched away again by his friend, clearly not pleased by his lack of interest. you decided not to venture back outside, taking a moment to wander into the foyer to take a breather. the air somehow felt far less stuffy in here than out there with all of your wealthy cohorts.

“find anything?” dutch asks as he leans on the balustrade of the balcony, “aside from a pretty woman to steal your attention of course.” arthur is lost for words for a moment, settling on a simple scoff and dismissive wave of his hand. “i think so, went rootin’ around and found something.” he decided to leave out the part where you had caught him in the act of stealing it. hosea and bill regroup with them both, defeated as they had come back empty-handed. but upon learning that arthur had found something, their spirits lifted a little. “gentlemen, i think we’re done here.”

you were slightly slumped against the wall, still in the foyer as you desperately waited for this party to be over. your head snaps up as you hear approaching footsteps, a group of men passing by seemingly without noticing you. you recognised two of them, the one in the top hat and him. they seemed to be leaving, heading back towards the entrance they came through. you didn’t know what overcame you but you decided to rush after them once they made it through the door. he had ended up trailing just a little bit behind the rest, his mind going back to you as they headed away from the house.

“wait!” you call out, catching his and the other men’s attention. arthur turns around to face you as you hurriedly walk over to him, your skirt delicately bunched up in your hands so you wouldn’t dirty the hem. “make this quick,” dutch says before ushering the other men towards the carriage that awaited them. arthur was surprised to say the least, not expecting to see you again after earlier. you were a little out of breath from trying to catch up with them, your words soft yet pressing as you hurriedly spoke. “um... you said earlier that you’d see me around. did you… did you mean it?” he looked dumbfounded, you were actually hoping to see him again? “i mean… i’d like to,” he replies, finally letting himself admit defeat against his better judgement. “i never got your name,” you remember. how spontaneous of you to be chasing after a man you didn’t even know the name of. 

“arthur, arthur morgan.” you repeat his name back to yourself, committing it to memory. you were hopeful that this wouldn’t be the last time the two of you met, something about him captivating you from the start. “well arthur, i hope to see you again soon.” his name sounded almost unbearably sweet falling from your lips, and though he thought himself an idiot for it, he knew he’d do anything to hear it again.

a/n: aaaa arthur + southern belle is my fave thing ever ૮꒰ྀི >⸝⸝⸝<꒱ྀིა i hope you enjoyed !! mwah xoxo

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

kidcat au my BELOVED!!! leaning towards fluff but I also love that sweet sweet hurt/comfort content

I got so stuck on this for a minute but I'm gonna use it as an experiment in writing Robin Jason akdkfjdkdjfj. this is a shortly after Tim has become Stray, but he and Jason are mostly just amicably tolerating each other? they haven't interacted a ton yet.

Jason is drinking cherry soda out of a wine glass and everyone knows it, because he's still got the half-full can in his other hand. He doesn't particularly care if stuffy society types look at him and think he's just a dumb teenager. He looks at them and just thinks they're just dumb adults. They can't even treat each other like real, living and thinking human beings, let alone someone they only see as a child.

He's only here because Alfred is visiting family and B didn't want to leave him alone; Jason honestly isn't sure if that's for his sake, or that Bruce thinks he'll get up to trouble or sneak out into the city to patrol as Robin alone. So Jay is stuck listening to stuck-up rick folks gossip and the Mayor pester Bruce about charities. B looks vaguely uncomfortable in a way entire different than he normally does, which Jason would find funny or at least interesting if he wasn't about to start flipping patronizing people the bird in the defense of his own sanity and intellect.

Times like this are the times that he wishes Dick were around, if only because Dick recognizes inherent human value and isn't sent into fight or flight by the idea of small talk. Small talk doesn't make Dick feel small. Whatever else the older boy may be to Jason, he's a role model as more than just Robin, though Jay wouldn't admit it. Jason can't fake a smile and talk himself out of having his upbringing judged by another diamond clad, red-lipped society lady in monochrome. Jason does, in fact, feel small, even though comparatively he's not.

So he rolls teal eyes behind people's backs and smirks when B looks over his shoulder to check on him. He mimicks the rich folks swirling the wine in their glasses and then frowns because his soda's gone flat and he watches the corners of the room, eyes tracking exits and weak points because those are things he does know how to do. Movement catches his eye, a dark, small shape that moves in a way Jason has only seen some nights on patrol.

Stray is a weird kid. Younger than him and smaller and really good at getting into places he shouldn't be. Like here, at a high society wine tasting that Jason is only at because Bruce was invited and can't turn down too many invitations or people start thinking he's a recluse again.

Jason stares at the kid, in a black turtleneck that Jay would say is a horrible way to hide a secret identity if he hadn't seen Dick blatantly wear Nightwing colors to a gala once and completely get away with it, and the kid stares back. He already knows that Stray knows who he is behind the domino, but the flicker of recognition in the kid's face would have confirmed both of their knowledge of each other's identities if Jason hadn't been pretty sure already.

"Hey," Jason says, walking over.

"Hey," says Stray, who, holy shit, is actually even smaller than he looks when he's blending into the shadows in a high-collared jacket and tactical boots. He makes a face, sighs, but his clear blue eyes stay fixed intensely on Jason's face. "I'm Tim. Tim Drake."

Jason blinks, hard. He'd expected to have to pry the kid's civilian identity from him with the verbal equivalent of a crowbar. "Jason Todd," he says, omitting the Wayne suffix because he's still not used to that, "But you already knew that." He waits for the tiny nod that he already almost knew was coming before continuing, with an utter cliche that nonetheless seems right with Stray-slash-Tim, "Nice to meet you, Timtim Drake."

Jason smirks. Tim grins back. Jay reaches out a hand, and Tim shakes it.

[dmgtellsyouaboutstufftheywrote]

It took a bit longer than I'd have liked, but here's Chapter 2!

"Opening the door revealed a well lit office, decorated in a surprisingly tasteful way. Each wall was lined with bookcases filled to the brim with old books and scrolls, all of them pertaining to magick, legends, arcana and history; as a quick glance revealed. Accompanying this literature were a few wooden statues, representing various legendary beasts and cryptids native to the region.

At the centre of the room rested a massive desk made of richly engraved, varnished mahogany, with an ample supply of paper, ink and writing feathers resting on top of it. Alongside them was an old and thick grimoire, which its owner had promptly closed before inviting Nicole in. Said owner was a dwarf that, even by dwarvish standards, looked quite old.

Slumped back onto his armchair as he was, Harpkopf seemed as broad as his desk. He leaned forward as Nicole closed the door behind them, resting his chin on his big hands. He looked at them with satisfaction shining in his eyes, which were the main tools at one’s disposal to guess the mood he was in, since his massive moustache was hiding most of his face.

When Nicole turned towards him, Harpkopf said "Sir d'Estein, I am so very pleased to meet you in person at last! Please, have a seat."

His voice was stuffy and somewhat mumbly, but his tone was warm and welcoming.

As the Baroque sat down in the chair facing the desk, the mayor continued on.

"I hope you did not have too much trouble finding your way to Lilienstadt? I am very sorry that you had to travel in such bad weather.

-Well, Mr Harpkopf", answered Nicole, smiling, " finding my way was simple enough, but I'll admit the wind proved to be one dastardly adversary. It felt as though I would have been swept away if I stopped marching on.”

Harpkopf could not help but chuckle upon hearing that description.

"Hah, that sounds about right! I would imagine most of our citizens would agree with you wholeheartedly. These storms of ours spawned many a legend, you know. Although, none of them seems to be true but... I digress, forgive me.

-It's perfectly alright, sir." said Nicole in an affable tone. "So, what may I help you with?"

Before answering, Harpkopf opened one of the many drawers of his desk, and took out a small leather pouch which seemed to be filled with stones or some such, given how it was bloated in a bizarrely angular manner.

"Before I show you what is inside this, I need to give you the context of how I was given it in the first place."  The mayor's tone was still warm, but the cheerfulness from earlier faded into seriousness and worry as he spoke on. "You see, Lilienstadt and its surroundings have always had a rich history as far as supernatural occurrences are concerned. Ghosts, monsters and magickal phenomenons are not rare around here."

Rubbing their chin between their thumb and index, Nicole nodded along. Thus far, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

"As such", continued Harpkopf, "when something of the sort comes up, I can 

generally get a good idea of what might be going on, thanks to the town's records written by my predecessors, and act accordingly." Saying that, he raised his hand and pointed to the bookcase behind him, the most massive of his office. If one of the tomes resting in it was equal to a year, then this bookcase was home to around six centuries' worth of knowledge.

“So then, am I right to assume that something unlike anything the town has seen before has come up recently?" asked Nicole in a calm, professional tone.

“Indeed, thus why I decided to send you a letter. You see, two days ago I was visited by one of our citizens, an alchemist. The poor sod was terrified, and told me that he had just come back from paying homage to an old chapel that is crumbling away in the woods nearby, when he saw something that, as he put it then, ‘looked like everything and nothing all at once, and smelled like death’.”

As the mayor ended his sentence, something caught Nicole’s eye for an instant. The pouch, which had been resting onto the desk, had jittered; moreover, the bumps that were deforming the leather had changed, going from angular and pointy shapes to circular and flat ones.

Nicole’s expression remained stoic, but they could not help but raise an eyebrow briefly. 

Harpkopf continued, not noticing this happening, “He brought me this pouch the day after. I have not been to the chapel myself, but from what he told me, the place looked strange, warped, even.”

Nicole nodded. From all of what the mayor had told them so far, they had several theories as to what happened, but they needed more information. They pointed a finger towards the pouch and asked, “May I take a look inside?”

“I wanted to ask you as much, actually. I had a look for myself but I must admit defeat as far as understanding whatever is going on is concerned.” said Harpkopf, embarrassed, as he handed the pouch over to Nicole.

As soon as Nicole took it in their hand, they could feel its content shifting and shuffling about inside, in a barely noticeable but very unpleasant manner. Unfastening the links and opening the pouch revealed a bunch of seemingly innocuous rocks and pebbles, but the superchery only lasted for a few seconds.

Though these were looking like mere clumps of mineral matters, in this moment they were anything but. As Nicole examined them, they were constantly changing, twisting themselves and wriggling as if alive, all the while bending and crushing into seemingly impossible shapes.

The Baroque took a “pebble” in between their gloved fingers and, as soon as they did, it immediately snapped back to what it was supposed to be. But, when they put it back into the pouch, it started writhing and warping again. Fastening the pouch again, Nicole put it back onto the desk and smiled as they clasped their hands together in satisfaction.

“This is all very interesting I have to say! Before going on with explanations though, I’ll go on and say right now that you should not have to worry about whatever danger might be in store.” 

Harpkopf could not help but raise his eyebrows in surprise. 

“I’m relieved to hear that, sir d’Estein. What is this then?

-There are several possibilities, but the one that I think fits our case the best is that these stones, as well as the chapel itself, were tainted by an eldritch influence.”

The mayor gasped upon hearing that, visibly confused by Nicole’s calm. They raised their hand in an appeasing gesture.

“I know this sounds alarming, but the situation at hand is very much manageable. Purging this influence will be simple. However, we also need to make sure this does not happen again; we need to find the one who has been corrupted in the first place.”

Nicole reached inside their coat and took out a small handbook from an inner pocket. It had seen better days, as its cracked, weathered cover and yellowed pages showed, but it was well kept, still holding up just fine nonetheless.

Flipping through the pages revealed countless notes, sketches and imprints. Having found the right page, the Baroque then laid down the open book onto the table and turned it towards Harpkopf, revealing notes pertaining to eldritch corruption, written in a round script.

“You see, oftentimes when people come and ask me for help on eldritch matters, they fear that the problem at hand might be a hulking, terrorising beast, able to tear reality asunder and unable to be comprehended by mortal eyes. I will say, that is more than fair enough, especially given what the world had to go through during the Last War.”

Harpkopf nodded as he was carefully reading through Nicole’s notes.

“However, such otherworldly things can manifest themselves in much subtler ways, and that is what I suspect is going on. Given what you told me about Lilienstadt’s history with the supernatural, I am inclined to think that some eldritch energy was able to breach through and anchor itself onto something -or perhaps someone- in the area.”

They pointed towards the last paragraph of the right page of their handbook. “This part here recapitulates an encounter I had with a poor boy who was effectively turned undead by such an influence.”

The mayor frowned. “What became of him?”

“He is alive and well. I was able to save him, but since the corruption was coursing through his blood, I had to purge it from his veins as a doctor was providing his body with new, untainted blood.” 

They closed their handbook down and placed it back into their coat.

“This rather extreme procedure was necessary, because this boy’s blood had effectively become an anchor point for the eldritch to set in. However, it could have been another part of the body; corruptions of organs are not unheard of for example.

-So if I understand correctly, there is someone roaming around Lilienstadt while corrupted?

-Either that, or perhaps an animal. Going by these stones, that is the most likely hypothesis to me. However, those same stones tell me that the corruption is not very powerful, which is probably due to it having anchored itself relatively recently.

-Why is it that you use that term, anchor, specifically?” asked Harpkopf, twirling his moustache around as he was focusing.

Nicole leaned back in their chair and stayed silent for a bit, reflecting. Though the question was simple, its answer harkened to many very complex theories and deductions.

“Well, since eldritch beings and phenomena are otherworldly in nature, this means that they cannot exist for very long in our realm without having to latch onto something or someone to keep on existing. However, anything that they latch on gets corrupted over time and, what’s more, can corrupt other things that it comes in contact with, as the stones showed us. So using the term ‘anchor’ alludes to the fact that the eldritch needs to corrupt in order to not drift away into nothing. At least, that is what the most commonly accepted conclusion is.”

As they went on with their explanation, their voice was tinted by a hint of melancholy.

Harpkopf asked, the worry in his voice fading away, “So then, how do you plan to take care of all of this?”

Nicole got back up on their seat and clasped their hands together again.

“Well, this should be a simple ordeal really. I will first start by purging the chapel from its corruption. Once that is done, the absence of said corruption should coax our unknown agent into coming back to the place, so as to taint it again; quite like how air is drawn to spaces devoid of it, if you will.” 

The mayor acquiesced. “What will you do then?”

“Well, if things go the way I expect them to, then once they are in the chapel, I should be able to paralyse them without any harm done, and from there I’ll begin the purification process. Once all this is done, Lilienstadt should be free of any eldritch influence.”

“I’m very pleased to hear that, thank you ever so much for your explanation, sir d’Estein.” said Harpkopf, as he was storing the pouch back into its drawer. 

Nicole stood up and gave the mayor a bow, their left hand laid on their heart. “I will be taking my leave now. As much as I would like to take care of this right now, the weather would make it very difficult to get anything done, so I will have to wait until the morning.”

When they turned towards the door, Harpkopf asked “Will you stay the night, sir d'Estein? I have guest rooms available on the upper floor, and I would hate for you to get drenched looking for an inn.”

As if on cue, the noise of the rain began to be obscured by rumbles of thunder in the distance, as lightning began to strike the earth, flashing through the window.

Nicole turned towards the mayor and smiled once more, pleasantly surprised “I would love to, Mr Harpkopf.”

Climbing up to the second floor revealed a small corridor, which led to two guest rooms, both of which were quite small. It was obvious that no one that used them stayed for long enough to warrant further accommodations. Despite that, the room that Nicole was given was well maintained, with one of the most comfortable beds that they had the pleasure to lay on.

Sleep, however, took its time to come, for even as Nicole’s mind was drifting away, they were reminiscing about all the previous cases they had worked on, making sure nothing would be amiss for this one."

[blueheartedmayor]

@frxgments-of-frxgments - Continued from here

-

This event - a fundraiser gala -  was nothing but a pompous affair to show how great the rich and wealthy were. Oh, we are so kind and generous, they would say, drinking champagne that cost more than their donations to the cause. We are doing the future generations a favour, they would brag, figuratively patting themselves on the back while doing absolutely nothing to promote changes for the future.

Damien hated them, but this was his world. From the age of five, these were the events he had to go to at the weekends, after days of extra tuition and study. He was forced into a stuffy suit, had his hair combed back with such force that his scalp stung, and then was expected to make pleasantries with the adults. He was nothing more than a mini-adult, struggling to understand the matters that bothered the grown-ups. Little boys should be playing with toys and creating imaginary worlds, not be forced to stand as tall as possible and try to give an answer when asked if he knew where India was on the map.

(At least Celine could slip away after a while. It wouldn’t be fair if both of them were stuck. He’d shoulder the chore for the two of them)

As an adult, that chore became a dread. He was known, he had a title and a reputation. The latest of the Brooks to grace these public events. Oh, you are just as handsome as your father was at that age, aren’t you so lucky. You are a lucky man to have such an esteemed reputation in the city. This time around, Damien had found some patrons of the older generations who were equally tired by the same monotony the wealthy elite prattled on about. But they were few and far between.

Damien had intended to stick by the DA, but got whisked away by a short, portly man with an oversized handlebar moustache who was adamant to get his stake in about the plans to renovate one of the abandoned buildings into accommodation for the lower class.

“You could make a bomb selling it. Imagine the glorious storefront that could take pride of place! I will double whatever has been offered.”

“Thank you, but no thank you. I have plans for that building and I intend to see them through myself.”

It wasn’t that simple to dismiss the conversation, and Damien was lucky someone else happened to join in so he could slip away and find his friend. There was relief to see they were ready to move, and the pair swiftly crossed the hall toward the large glass doors before someone pounced at the opportunity to debate a matter with the mayor and the district attorney! He waited until out of earshot to respond. You had to assume no one could be trusted.

“Really? That’s utterly astounding! I can’t believe my predecessors never thought of that!” Sarcasm dripped from his voice as he accepted the flute. “I had one of the businessmen rant at me for fifteen minutes about why I shouldn’t go ahead with plans to convert an abandoned store into accommodation and should instead sell it for profit to someone to sell... Oh, what was it he said...?” He paused for effect, snapping his fingers like it had genuinely slipped his mind. “Ah yes, of course. High-class fashion.” With the fresh air being a comforting presence, he let out a slow sigh as a hint of a smile appeared at the feeling of the weight being temporarily lifted. “I’m so sorry you have to endure all this, old friend. If you want to leave at any time, you’ve passed the time where it is now socially acceptable to do so. I know how arduous these events can be...”

[theloneliestshipper]

Book of Boba, Ep. 6 Review

Below is my review of The Book of Boba Fett, Episode 6: From the Desert Comes a Stranger. IT CONTAINS SPOILERS.

In any given Star Wars project, you’re going to have a percentage of fans who love it and a percentage of fans who hate it. This might seem like an obvious statement, but it’s also worth remembering that loving or hating something is just part of the rich tapestry of being human. Not everything is a statement that requires a response. Some things are just a matter of personal taste.

That being said, whether you love The Book of Boba Fett or hate it, I think you could reasonably expect Boba Fett to be in it. Maybe even as the main character for more than four episodes?

The show opens with Cobb Vanth.

(Fun Fact: I hate Cobb Vanth.)

Okay, I thought. It’s going to be a Cobb Vanth episode. He’s going to have some role to play in the war with the Pykes, but at least we’re back on Tatooine.

Then we return to Din, who has left Tatooine to pay Grogu a visit. Like a lot of fans, I was really excited to see Luke’s Jedi school. I thought it would be more than a pile of rocks, but a pile of rocks is all you can afford when you’ve spent all your show’s money CGI-ing a man’s face.

Din tries to see Grogu, but he’s discouraged by Ahsoka. She tells him that Grogu needs to tough it out at his stuffy boarding school and Din being there to offer emotional stability will only make that more difficult. That sound you hear in the background is definitely not me playing “Grownups Come Back” from Daniel Tiger on repeat.

Okay, I thought. It’s going to be an Ahsoka Tano episode. Oh, wait. Nope, she’s leaving.

About 27 minutes into the episode we finally get back to Jabba’s palace. Boba has the whole crew assembled, you know, him and her and that guy. All the people we've spent 30 seconds getting to know each episode.

Master Assassin Fennec Shand introduces Din and does some quick exposition for all the stuff they didn’t have the time to show us after so many cameos.

Turns out they need foot soldiers, so back we go to Cobb Vanth! Din asks Cobb for help, Cobb says we’ll see.

Remember that duel between Boba Fett and Cad Bane that was supposed to happen in the canceled season of The Clone Wars? No, no special reason I’m asking. Just wondering if you remember it.

Oh, and then for no reason other than a half-hearted attempt to raise the stakes with villains who barely seem like a threat, some Pykes blow up Madam Garsa.

And then we’re back to Grogu. Okay, I thought. It’s going to be a Luke Skywalker episode. He’s going to reflect on his father and how they never had a relationship and understand what Grogu needs.

*chugs wine*

Look, I am really enjoying this show. I don’t want you to think otherwise, but there isn’t a narrative arc to be found in this thing. At best, it’s a tie-in comic.

Things I Loved:

Din and Ahsoka’s round of “my weird religion vs. your weird religion.”

The mayor’s assistant. I really hope Boba continues the trend of hiring his foes and he becomes the majordomo of the palace.

Boba’s helmet on the throne in the background. Great visual.

Things I Didn’t Love:

I don’t like Cobb Vanth because he’s a conventionally attractive white cowboy stereotype who will summarily be shipped with everyone and partially because the moment he was created he became a bland and easily castable stand-in for Boba Fett and the fact that he ever wore Boba’s armor is an abomination. I will fight Chuck Wendig if I ever meet him, I swear I will.

CGI Luke...ehhhh. Is it a stunning technological achievement? Yes. Does it sound like Mark Hamill? Also Yes. There’s still something cold and robotic about CGI characters to me and I wish they would have just recast him.

Did I mention the fact that Boba Fett appears only briefly in this episode and has zero lines of dialogue? If he wasn't in the title you would never know he was the main character.

Monster of the Week: The Krayt dragon skull on top of the Jawa crawler. Now that’s a hood ornament.

Final Thoughts: My prediction for the finale? Lots of cameos. All your favorites will be there. Cobb Vanth will do something heroic. Cad Bane will do something villainous. Garsa Fwip will never be mentioned. Somehow Darth Vader has returned. In the last five minutes, Rex will give Boba a book he made as a child where he drew pictures of himself with a family and pet rancor and the figures will look eerily similar to the people he’s with. There will be no explanation for this or why Rex has it. The audience will love it. Star Wars Twitter will claim that Disney has reinvented television, storytelling and the wheel. I’ll go back to writing fanfiction instead of television reviews.

[crystal-snowing]

forbidden fruit | lee felix

synopsis: you were told to stay away by your parents and the rest of society, but that was nearly impossible when he just looks so goddamn irresistible.

genre: enemies to lovers!au, gang!au, college!au, angst, fluff

pairing: rich!reader x gangster!felix

word count: 15.9k 

warnings: slight violence, explicit language, mentions kidnapping

a/n: i’ve been thinking about writing a longer fic for quite some time now and i think i went a bit overboard on this one, but i hope you guys enjoy in nevertheless ! also special thanks to @crscendoforsung​, mwah soro ! 

one. 

If there was one thing that your parents warned you about, it was to stay away from Stray Kids, also known as the most prominent and dangerous gang in the city. This warning was drilled into your head ever since you were a young child, as you were told two things, to stay away from the south side of town and to never associate with known members of this gang. They were two simple rules to follow, and for the past nineteen years of your life, those were two simple rules to follow. And up until last year, you were proud to say that you have never seen or associated with one of those things. But that all changed in your senior year of high school. A new mayor was recently elected to govern the city and insisted on fixing the abnormal disparity between the extremely wealthy and the extremely poor, while this mostly included building new luxury apartment complexes and stores in the less fortunate side of town. However,  there was one policy that enraged your parents and the rest of those on the privileged side of town—that the next school year, the mayor was taking eight students from the other side of town and having them enroll in your prestigious school system for the remainder of their educational journey. 

No amount of protesting or defiance from your parents or the rest of the community could possibly persuade the mayor to change his mind, and just like that it was done, your entire world would be forever changed. 

It was your first semester at college, and on top of that, it was also the first semester of for the new students to be admitted onto your side of town. That day was vividly etched in your memory, your parents helping you pack your bags into the car, hugging you goodbye and giving you a final reminder to not cause any trouble while you’re there. They didn’t need to say it, but you knew that the words were on the tip of their tongue. The essence of that phrase surrounded you and practically swallowed you, it was in the way they squeezed just a little too tightly or the way their gaze lingered on you a little too long as the car finally pulled out of the driveway and you waved goodbye. 

This was your promise to them, and the only promise that you needed to keep—no matter the circumstances, you were not allowed to associate or be near any of those gang members. 

However, you had to admit that there was some alluring about them. They were the talk of the entire campus, even among the freshmen class, the campus was alive with their arrival. Of course, they stood out from every other student on campus, and when they were walking it was the parting of the Red Sea, every other student making space (either out of fear or shock) to allow them to pass through. Dressed in all black, hoods on and masks covering their entire face except their eyes—they were the epitome of a notorious gang. Even though they passed by you for only a second, they had already piqued your interest, but you had made a promise and you were not willing to let some scum destroy everything that you and your parents have worked so hard for. You were determined and nothing was going to stand in your way, after going through twelve years of schooling and enduring the countless tutors and towers of textbooks, you worked your ass to get to where you are today. And you would be damned if you allowed a few lowlifes to stand in your way, after all, no matter how educated they become they wouldn’t be able to change the fact that they were nothing but garbage from the other side of town—in the end, they would never be able to change who they truly are.

That incident was only a small one in comparison to the many that happened that day. You had almost forgotten to remind yourself that it was also your first day of college as well, and soon the memory of early this morning was soon forgotten in the sea of other memories and experiences that happened the rest of that morning. The orientation was brief, the dean’s speech ending with a round of applause as the entire freshman class was soon released to go to classes and begin to adjust to the campus lifestyle. It was kind of stuffy and crowded inside the auditorium and you were glad that all the boring formalities were over and done with, finally you were able to go to your classes and escape the large mass of people. You stood from the velour red chair and your way outside, where the sunlight and the fresh air felt good against your skin after spending nearly two hours in the dark auditorium. 

It was only when you made eye contact with one of them, did your heart really snap out of your dazed state. Your eyes were not fully adjusted to the bright sunlight and for a moment you could have been mistaken about who or what you could have seen, but you soon realized that there was no mistaking the all black clothes that he adorned or his slightly dyed strawberry blond hair. He was standing furthest from the group of three other boys that were also dressed from head-to-toe in the dark color, and while you could have chosen to make eye contact with any of the four boys, he stood out to you the most. And there it was again, this feeling of intrigue—attraction, as he stood less than seven feet away from you. 

The two of you couldn’t have been staring at each other for more than a few seconds, when one of his friends slapped on the head, calling out his name and making a joke that you couldn’t really make out from where you were standing. Just like that, the spell was broken and as you glanced at your phone for the time, you realized that you were running late for class. You watched as his friends bid him goodbye before walking off in the opposite direction, and before you could believe that everything that happened in the past few seconds was just a dream, his warm brown eyes once again made eye contact with your own [E/C] eyes. Clearing your throat, you whipped your head around and immediately began walking away from the mysterious boy and towards your first class of the day, the object that was supposed to capture more of your attention compared to this insignificant delinquent. And while it was possible to convince yourself that the awkward encounter that just took place between you and that strawberry blond boy was nothing out of the ordinary, the reddening of your cheeks definitely told a different story.

It had only been a few minutes since you arrived in the lecture hall, while you were not the first one to enter, you certainly weren’t late which was honestly all that mattered to you. Taking out your phone, you decided to scroll through some of your social media pages in order to pass the time, and you were barely a minute into your Instagram feed when you felt a presence sit down next to you. Glancing up from your screen, you were met with a wall of black clothing. Upon a closer inspection, you could see that he was wearing a black leather jacket, a white cotton t-shirt, black jeans, and a black mask covering half of his face. His skin was pale, but had an entire galaxy of freckles that decorated his nose and cheeks, and his eyes were a warm shade of espresso brown. 

“Excuse me?” 

Sparing you only a glance, he pulled out his phone and tapped the screen, before pulling out one of his airpods before looking at you again, only then did you have his full attention. There was honestly no way to approach this without sounding rude, but you had no other choice, and honestly he happened to be quite fortunate that it was you giving him this lecture instead of other students, who wouldn’t hesitate to rip him to shreds compared to you who was doing your best to try at least be semi-polite and give him some useful advice in order to survive in this new world. 

“There are tons of seats in this hall and I was wondering if you could maybe not sit next to me? Considering that we don’t know each other and how much I enjoy my personal space and I would appreciate it if you could maybe move a couple chairs down or maybe a whole another row—” your polite speech was interrupted by his low but hearty laugh, as he removed his face mask to reveal his plump pink lips.

“So let me get this straight, you want me to move my seat since you believe, and I quote, ‘am violating your personal space’?” he paused, cocking one of his eyebrows with a smirk sitting on his lips, “sweetheart, if it bothers you that much, how about you get up and move yourself?” 

You were absolutely flabbergasted to say the least, and couldn’t believe that someone like him had the audacity to even suggest something like that to someone like you. His attention had refocused back on the device in front of him, and it was clear that by his demeanor that he wasn’t going to be moving any time soon and you were stuck next to him for the remainder of class. This left you with two options, either move and give him the satisfaction of successfully bullying you into submission or stay exactly where you are and stand your ground against a brat like him. And with a small huff, you released your grip on your bag and the rest of your belongings before crossing your arms and focusing on your phone once again. There was no way in hell were you going to give this asshole the satisfaction of seeing you pissed off, instead you stood your ground and watched as the professor finally stood at the center of the room and quieted the class down in order to begin his introduction. 

And for the rest of the class out of the corner of your eyes, you couldn’t help but see that smirk envelop the lips of the boy sitting next to you, the very sight of it making your blood boil and your face flushed. Whoever this boy was you were certain of only one thing, he was nothing but an arrogant prick.

two. 

The cafe across the street from your dorm has become one of your favorite places on the entire campus, especially when you needed to study. Not only did they have the best drinks on campus, the pastries were to die for, and every time you walked through the doors you were reminded of that as the sweet smell of cinnamon and sugar filled your nose. Cafe 4419 was never too noisy nor was it ever too quiet, the lo-fi playlist and soft murmur from the patrons made it one of your favorite sanctuaries to stay apart from your dorm. 

While it was only a few weeks into college, half of the first semester has already flown by and you were practically swimming in essays, projects and studying for upcoming tests. Which is how you found yourself here, spending almost every waking second at the cafe with your favorite drink by your side and piles of textbooks and papers towered around you. Anybody passing by would have immediately assumed that it was finals season, instead of simply being just an ordinary test during the first semester. But you were serious about your academics and grades, and you were not about to let something ruin your concentration that you had going for you. 

This was the one place where you could also find an escape from those people. Everywhere else around campus that you seemed to find yourself, it was only a matter of minutes before you were humbly graced with their presence. They seemed to be everywhere and the only two places on campus where you seemed to be safe from them was your own dorm room and this cafe. In a way it sort of is your sanctuary, one of the few places where you didn’t have to see their depressing black clothing, scowling faces or even hear about their very being. Instead, it was just you, your textbooks, notes, and computer—the way it should be, and you were experiencing nothing but pure bliss. 

And that moment was completely shattered, when the screech of the stool across the wooden floors next to you and the slamming of an iced coffee of some sort onto the table. 

Glaring up at the perpetrator, you weren’t surprised to be faced with a wall of black clothing, including the infamous leather jacket. As your eyes traveled higher up, you were finally met with a pair of brown eyes and a cocky expression looking down on you. Him. The same boy who had the audacity to sit right next to you during your first lecture, currently has the audacity to interrupt your precious study time. His appearance was practically unchanged since the last time you saw him less than a week ago, his strawberry blond hair was a bit more faded than before but his irises still sparkled with that same mischievous and playful glint. 

“Fancy running into you here,” he smirked, moving to sit down next to you. His thigh was quick to press up against your own, as you flinched—moving your leg away as if you were being burned. He didn’t acknowledge your actions, instead his eyes seemed to be locked onto your own, scanning over your facial features as if he was studying and reading your every move and expression. 

“What do you want?” 

He put his hands in surrender attempting to show you that he means no harm and that he’s not a threat, but with that sparkle in his eyes and that sly expression never leaving his face. 

“I know we kind of started off on the wrong foot, but I was hoping that we could fix that” he paused, stretching out his hand, “I’m Lee Felix,” he introduced himself with a wink. It was nice to finally put a name to the face, but in all honesty, you didn’t really give a damn about what his name was or were you curious about what he wanted from you. Apparently, it was too much for you to ask him to leave you alone, either that or he was too dense to get the hint. 

“Alright, Felix, as much as I enjoyed resolving that little issue, I’m extremely busy. So, if you wouldn’t mind?” 

Shooting him one final glare, you assumed that this was the end of the conversation between the two of you, and all you needed to do was to wait for him to leave and refocus back on the mountains of papers in front of you. However, you were naive to think that this was the end of your conversation, and as far as you could tell with Lee Felix, he always needed to have the last word. 

‘You know, my feelings were deeply hurt the day we met, and I think it’s only fair for you to make it up to me,” something in his tone of voice shifted causing you to whip your head in his direction and away from the studyguide in front of you. This should have been a major red flag, a glaring neon sign starring right in front of you, but you would be lying if you didn’t say that he intrigued you. Perhaps it was your upbringing, or maybe it was the incessant warnings about people like him, you weren’t sure—the only thing you knew in that moment, for once in your life, he had your undivided attention. “My grades are kind of slipping and in order to keep this scholarship and stay at this ‘prestigious’ school they need to be a bit higher,” he paused before flashing you a blinding smile, “so I was thinking that you could tutor me and we could really spend some more time getting to know one another,” he finished before ending his proposal with a wink. 

You had to give it to him, the dirtbag had guts. 

The confidence and ego that seemed to ooze out of him was unbelievable and it was hard to believe that people like him still existed. And just like that, you were once again uninterested in the boy sitting in front of you. 

“Is that all? I think you already know my answer to that question, now if you could excuse me,” rolling your eyes, you wave him off with a dismissive flick of your wrist. Of course, you should have expected that this wasn’t all that he had planned, he wasn’t known for being a quitter especially when it came to people like you. The two of you were more similar than either of you cared to realize and unbeknownst to you, Lee Felix was determined not to walk out here without having your number in his back pocket and a promise that you were going to see him again. Instead, he did what he did best—completely disregard what he’s been told and follow his instincts. 

“Think about this for a moment, the infamous and obviously talented child of the [L/N] refusing to help a poor and unfortunate boy like me, surely that won’t make a great impression on the professors or even the media once they catch word of this,” he shrugged letting the weight of words sink in. You hated to admit it, but he was right. Your family was powerful, but in exchange for that power, every single thing that you did was scrutinized—your daily lives constantly under the microscope. While it was considerably bad press to be seen around people like him, especially with the amount of warnings that you received from your parents as well as other members in the community, there was no denying that it was perhaps even worse press for you to completely ignore and reject him. “It’s really up to you, princess/prince.” 

You had no choice, and he knew it. 

“Fine, I’ll tutor you,” you turned away from him for a second to grab a pen before scribbling your phone number on a piece before ripping it off and handing it to him. Before he could take it from your hand, you snatched the piece of paper from out of his reach. “Just letting you know, I’m not doing this for you. Meet me at the library on Friday and make sure you’re not late.”

Grabbing the slip of paper out your hand, and his drink in the other, he stood and made his way towards the door. You couldn’t help but watch him go, a frown present on your face. With a final wink, he was gone and out the door, and you could finally relax and relieve all the tension that was built up in your shoulders. Mentally scolding yourself, you wondered how the hell you even ended up in a situation like this, in a matter of only weeks you managed to break the only promise to your parents and somehow make acquaintances with one of the very people that you swore to hate. 

At this point it was useless to try and study, there was no way that you could possibly study after a distraction like that. Gathering your materials, before haphazardly shoving them into your bag, and grabbing your drink and walking out of the cafe door. The weather was transitioning between autumn and winter, the brisk air blew against your face as you walked, your mind replaying everything that happened within the span of a few minutes. 

Scoffing to yourself, you shook your head as you made your way back to your dorm. Fine, if Lee Felix wanted to make an enemy out of you, then so be it, and from this day forward you were determined to make his life a living hell.

three. 

After sitting in the library for almost half an hour, you were about a millimeter away from losing your shit. As usually the library was pretty quiet and the only noises that could be heard were the faint rustling of papers and the dull hum of the heater. You had threatened him not to be late, and you had even promised him that you would leave if he was even a minute late, but somehow you found yourself sitting at one of the many wooden tables in the gigantic library tapping your pencil impatiently. You should leave, that much was obvious, but there was some part of you that was holding onto hope that he was going to show. Standing up, you scolded yourself for being so foolish, you were smarter than this—you were smarter than him—but somehow you allowed yourself to end up in this situation, again. 

“Sorry I’m late, princess/prince, I got caught up with a few things.” 

You didn’t even hear him approach, but as you turned around you were met with his figure. It seemed like his entire wardrobe was composed of only dark clothing, his outfit pretty much the same as it was less than four days ago. The only difference was the gold chain that he adorned around his neck, which was a stark contrast compared to his black clothing. He noticed how your eyes seemed to be drawn to the flashy object, before he quickly placed the object underneath his shirt and cleared his throat. However, there was something different about his appearance than before, his hair was a bit messier and tousled than usual, his skin glistened and was a bit more flushed, and there were visible red or pink marks that littered his neck. 

Oh. 

That realization finally seemed to draw you from your daze, as you stared back at him, your steely [E/C] eyes met his mahogany ones. Under your gaze his eyes seemed to soften a bit and it wasn’t until he saw your arms crossed against your chest did he realize the gravity of his mistake. 

“You’re late,” you practically growled, “if you’re not going to take this seriously then fine, I told you not to waste my time and if you’re going to be a piece of—” 

Felix’s hard and once impenetrable exterior was suddenly cracked by the fierceness and fire that shone in your eyes, only then did he feel some sort of small pang inside his hair. This was an entirely foreign feeling to him, and even stranger was that you were the one causing him to feel this way. For his entire life he has been dealing with people like you, those that dripped with wealth and decadence, but he knew that there was a hidden evil within them. The facade was only a ploy to distract from the devil inside of them—they were malicious, unforgiving, monsters that from day one have done nothing but persecute people like him. People like him were rendered powerless against the people like them, kicked to the desolate part of town and condemned to live a life of misfortune and suffering. Felix knew exactly what to say that would make your blood boil, that would aggravate you till you wouldn’t be able to stand the mention of his name, he knew exactly what to do to make you despise him even more, and yet his mouth and words failed him. 

For once, he didn’t know what to say, so he instead slammed his books down on the table—the sound echoing in the almost silent library. A sound like that was bound to have repercussions, and the glares and disgusted looks you received was enough to force you into submission. You should have just walked out of the door, but going against your better judgement and rationale, you decided to stay. Sitting down, you pulled the textbooks and notebooks from your bag as Felix sat next to you taking out his own materials. Flipping the book to the first page, you pointed at the first problem. 

“Let’s start with this problem first and make sure you show all your work,” you gestured to the first of many problems in the workbook, “oh, and if you’re ever late again because of some dick appointment, I’ll make sure that every single person on this campus knows how small that four inch dick of yours really looks like.”

After that, the two of you seemed to fall into a comfortable rhythm. There was minimal talking between the two of you, coming to the mutual agreement that you were only here for one purpose and one purpose only. But, just because he stopped bickering with you for once didn’t necessarily make your job any easier. There wasn’t really any nice way to put it, but he was horrible at everything. It was expected of course, unlike the other students that attended the prestigious JYP University he didn’t need to pass the rigorous entrance exam nor did he need extremely high grades in high school. You had your work cut out for you, but you weren’t one to back down from a challenge. But that didn’t mean that Felix was going to make it easy on you. 

While you have tutored other students in the past before, you could safely say that none of them were quite like Lee Felix. Never have you met someone so unmotivated and lazy. He was the one who was practically begged for your help, and now he’s sitting here with his head resting against his arm absentmindedly doodling in the margins of the book. 

“Look, if you’re not going to take this seriously then what are we even doing here? You’re just wasting my time and your own,” you huffed, tapping your pen harshly against the workbook to stir the strawberry blond from his thoughts. “At least you could pretend to do the work that I’m assigning you, instead of blatantly ignoring everything I say.” 

That grabbed his attention, as he sat up straighter and stretched his arms over his head as he rolled his eyes. “That’s easy for you to say when you’ve had everything handed to you all of your life. I bet you don’t even understand what it’s like to have to work hard for something, princess/prince,” he scoffed. Your head snapped in his direction, his words echoing in your head. 

What the fuck did he just say to you?

“You think I’ve had it easy, well newsflash, princess/price, you’re not the only one whose had a hard life. Yes, privilege does exist but don’t you even think for a damn second that I haven’t worked in order to get here to this university. Just because you were admitted on a scholarship and without taking the entrance exam, doesn’t mean that it was the case for everybody,” you huffed as you stood up, causing an abrupt noise as the chair slid against the wooden floors. “My parents used their money to buy their way through life, but there is only so much money can buy. And if you really think that I bought my way into the school, then why did you even ask me to tutor you in the first place?” 

Your last outburst received the nastiest glares from the other students around the both of you, and if looks could kill you would have been dead over ten times over. But at the moment you couldn’t care less, this was your final farewell—your final “go-fuck-yourself” to Lee Felix so you could finally be rid of this parasite. With the last slam of your chair, you turned away from the male and made your hasty escape towards the exit of the library. 

If you ever saw him again before the year was over, it would be too soon.

four.

This year was probably the year of firsts for Lee Felix, in addition to meeting you he was also beginning to experience these foreign emotions that came along with you. In no way shape or form was he a bully, instead he often had some certain choice words for those that exhibited egotistical and arrogant qualities—and in his defense, they were usually the ones who started it. He was known for his unforgiving nature, after all, there was no way he could live the lifestyle he did without being this way. This feeling of guilt and regret was new for him, in his opinion what he said to you wasn’t even the worst thing to make it past those lips, yet the look of fiery passion and hurt that was written across your features was enough to make him think twice. He felt apologetic, even though he practically spits poison every day to people like you, something about you attracted him, pulled him in and made you different. 

That being said, he was horrible at apologizing. 

Which was why when you could feel a presence next to you during the next lecture, you didn’t even bat an eyelash. Nor did you even dare to look at him as he slammed something down on your desk, before turning away and mumbling to himself. Upon further inspection, you found a Coke can sitting untouched and unopened with a note taped to the front with two simple words written on it. 

I’m sorry. 

Rolling your eyes, you glanced to the right where you knew he would be sitting with some of his other friends. They were always the ones making the most noise in the class, treating the lecture as a study hall instead of an opportunity for growth and maturation. You could spot three of them easily, their freshly dyed hair sticking out sorely in the sea of neutral colors. They were too far away for you to tell what they were talking about, but their gleeful expressions and smiles etched on their faces probably meant that they were up to no good. You could spot Felix immediately, he distanced himself from his group of friends. While he still engaged in the conversation, he was passive, his brown eyes dull as his mind seemed to be elsewhere. 

This was the first time that you have seen the fire extinguished from his eyes, and he looked so goddamn pitiful. As if he could sense your eyes, his face turned to meet yours, his eyes catching you red-handed. His expression was complex, to say the least. On the one hand, all traces of  remorse and regret seemed to disappear completely and was replaced with another emotion that you couldn’t read. Furiously you turned away from him, your cheeks dusted with a pink hue. Thankfully, before he could manage to approach you the professor entered at the front of the room and began the lecture, your thoughts now becoming full of Shakespeare’s prose and the impact of foil characters in Romeo and Juliet, leaving no room to worry about that imbecile. 

You had to admit, Lee Felix definitely did have some charms. If he didn’t have something at least, then there would be no reason why you found yourself sitting next to him in this empty lecture hall, the both of you sprawled over notebooks and countless works of Shakespeare at your disposal. You should be mad at him, furious even, he was nothing but a good-for-nothing gangster who had the audacity to insult you—but here you were, crawling back to him. But, even through his shitty apology you somehow found it hard to stay away. He was dangerous, the closest thing that you had to breaking the rules and to give him up would be bringing your life back to normalcy—uneventful, boring and you would be damned if you ever had to give him up and return to life before. As infuriating as he was, he came into your life like a whirlwind and while at times he made your life a living hell, you kind of enjoyed his presence. 

Of course you were wary about tutoring him again, but your fear was soon quelled by the fact  that his personality seemed to have done a complete flip from the day before. Not only was he attentive, but it just goes to show that if he would just sit down and put his ego in check for a second, then maybe he actually had a chance at succeeding at this school. With his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth nibbling softly on his lower lip as his hand moved quickly across the paper to solve the problem. His hair would continually fall in front of his eyes as he concentrated, and he kept swiping at it every so often. Your hand itches to reach away and brush away those stray locks, but you refrain yourself from doing so, instead opting to pick at your sleeve as you admired his expression. 

“It’s getting late,” your voice sounded foreign against the silence, those three words being the first thing you have said to him in the past few hours. “Maybe we should call it a night, and continue next week.” He nodded, prying his eyes away from the rows of words in front of him, helping you gather your materials into one place and pack them into your bag. Wordlessly, you both pushed in your chairs before exiting the lecture hall together. 

The walk outside was silent, while the previous argument didn’t necessarily still hang in the air, it’s presence was still made apparent due to the wall of tension between the two of you. The campus was softly being illuminated by the streetlights that littered the property, aided slightly by the moonlight that seemed to cast the entire scenery in a different light. There was something different about the university when the sun went down, while it certainly wasn’t a ghost town (the constant parties on campus made sure of that) it made the campus look almost softer and whimsical in a sense. The ancient buildings that were used as classrooms during the day time had transformed into castles, the streets practically shining when the moonlight sparkled on them and you—you felt as if you could rule it all. 

You both stopped in front of a sleek black Harley Davidson, the motorcycle in pristine condition and didn’t have a single scratch on it. There was no denying how expensive this was, and for once it looked as if he actually belonged at this school with a ride like that. You knew this was where the two of you were meant to part ways. For you, it was back to the dormitories—hopefully being able to sneak in before room check and for him, back to his other life, doing whatever misfits like him do best by causing mischief and mayhem in the dead of night.

This was your cue to leave, turn on your heels and rush back to your dorm room, but you couldn’t help but stand there and watch him. Felix looked absolutely ethereal in the moonlight, his tan skin glowing and eyes sparkling—and you were entranced, watching him unclip the helmet from the handlebars of his motorcycle and holding it in his hands There was this unknown tightening in your chest, this foreign hitch in your breath, your hands growing clammy as the seconds continued to pass on. 

“Here, put this on. I like to think that I’m a safe driver, but safety first,” his voice calls out to you, before the black helmet was tossed your way. Fumbling with the object for a few seconds, you finally caught it as your brain finished rebooting. As you looked down at the helmet, and back at him you were at a loss of words. “Well, are you coming or not? I don’t have all day, princess/prince.” 

His head was cocked to the side, and while his words had a bit of bite to them, his expression is playful. You were supposed to be the rational one in this situation, and the “correct” answer was clearly staring you right in the face. You were old enough to take care of yourself, and you certainly didn’t need a dollar-store version of a knight in shining armor to take you home. 

“I can make it back on my own, thanks for the offer—”

It took him two strides in order to make it over to you and a total of ten seconds to get you on the bike. Two seconds in order to yank the helmet out of your hands, three seconds to secure it on your head, three seconds to pull you onto the vehicle behind him and two seconds to wrap your arms loosely around his waist. 

“Hold on tight.” 

That was the last thing he uttered to you, before he revved the engine and the two of you sped off into the night. At this rate, it was too late to even think about getting off unless you wanted to seriously injure yourself. Instead, you opted for clinging onto his body and pressing yourself flat against his back as you held on for dear life. Immediately, you could feel your heart sink to the pit of your stomach the moment the vehicle started, the wind practically making you deaf as the scenery of campus whipped around you in a blur. Yes, you were scared, after all you were riding around on a death trap with a boy that you barely know and who was currently in control of your life. Despite all of these factors, there was something exhilarating about riding with Felix. The feeling of your hair whipping around you, speeding through the empty streets of campus and the faint smell of sandalwood and lemon that emitted from him was intoxicating. And it was safe to say that you were drunk off this feeling. 

By the time Felix pulled in front of your dorm room, you were still buzzed and your senses were working over time trying to process everything around you. It wasn’t long before reality washed harshly over you, removing your arms from his toned waist and scrambling off the bike, the helmet still sitting lop-sided on your head. Your whole body was aflame, every place where you made contact with him was burning and your heart was beating painfully loud against your chest. 

“Thanks for the ride,” you muttered, clearing your throat, avoiding eye contact with him. He didn’t say anything in return, instead placing the break down on the motorcycle and walking over to you. His fingers brushed against your face as he unclipped the helmet, which sent a new wave of heat to rush to your cheeks, before he took the safety gear off you and tucked it under his arm. If you had blinked, you might have missed the way his eyes flitted over your lips, as he unconsciously licked his lips before turning on his heel and making his way back to his vehicle. 

The only evidence that this wasn’t a dream and was real life was the faint smell of gasoline and the roar of a motorcycle in the distance, signalling his departure. 

five.

Over the next few weeks, the two of you have met at the university’s cafe between eight and ten times for the purpose of studying. Granted, you both were studying (only because Felix knew you would have his head if he didn’t concentrate) but there was this underlying reason why you both kept coming back. His presence was like a drug, addicting and thrilling, and you couldn’t keep away. Both of you were chasing that high, the overwhelming feeling of euphoria and you were both relentless in reaching your goal. It started that night that he dropped you off at your dorm, and ever since then you’ve been hooked. His lips didn’t even manage to touch yours, and you were quite disappointed at this fact, but you weren’t going to let him go that easily, no if he wanted you to work for it, then so be it. And that’s how you found yourself, practically slaving away over textbooks all for him. 

It has become a ritual for the two of you to linger outside of his lecture hall on exam day. He would always pick you up from your dorm that morning and take you to his classroom, where you would both wait until the very last second before leaving his presence. Time with him was precious, it was fleeting and you always wanted to spend just a second longer with him. He looked gorgeous in the sunlight as it tangled itself up in his locks of hair, bouncing off his dewy tan skin before capturing his entire body in its rays. A cup of coffee always in his left hand, while his right held onto a packet of stapled papers, his messy scrawling decorated the pages and there were a few places where your neat handwriting made an appearance as he recited some facts off the sheets. 

“So, the whole point of having Fortinbras and just mentioning him in the play is to be a foil character for Hamlet?” 

“Sort of, remember Fortinbras was also trying to take over Denmark as revenge for Hamlet murdering his father,” you reminded him, shaking your finger gently in front of his face. There was a teasing expression written on your face, and he returned it with a sneer of his own. You both stopped a couple of feet in front of the entrance of the classroom as he took the stack of papers before smacking his forehead with them, a groan escaping his lips. 

“I give up, how about we ditch this exam and instead I’ll treat you to your favorite pastries at that bakery down the block,” he suggested, lifting the papers away from his face and giving you a dazzling smile. On any other person, by this point they would be putty in his hands and he would easily be able to have his way with them. But you knew better, and for the most part you would like to think that you were immune to his charms. 

“Are you trying to bribe me, Felix?” 

Your eyes narrowed at his choice of words with one eyebrow raised, but a teasing smirk was dancing across your lips. Rolling his eyes in your direction, he placed his hands up as if he was surrendering as a small chuckle escaped his lips. 

“Me? I would never!” Sarcasm dripped off every word that he spoke, turning away you as he refocused his attention back on the study guide in front of him as a look of disgust overcame his features. “I want to know, how likely is it that you’ll still associate with me even after I fail this test, because the odds are currently not in my favor.” 

There was something about his tone of voice that seemed to throw you off a little bit. Yes, he was still trying to keep the conversation with you as playful as possible, but you could hear the slight undertone of insecurity and doubt in his voice. He was genuinely worried about this test and it showed. It was quite an odd sight to witness, the boy who weeks before didn’t care about anything except annoying the crap out of you was worried about something as mundane as a test. 

“Hmm, well if you fail this exam then I’m not sure we can be friends anymore,” you slyly spoke, “you know, I don’t associate myself with losers.” 

The word “friends” caused something to bloom inside his chest, a warm feeling spreading throughout his entire body. Honestly, he’s never really thought to put a definition on your relationship, sure the two of you have spent a lot time together the past few weeks to study and cram for this exam, but everything wasn’t exactly business related. There were times during those sessions where you would both chuck erasers and pencils at each other, making fun of each other’s favorite foods and having conversations that were far from the original topic of the works of William Shakespeare. He enjoyed your presence, and liked having you around, and if being your friend meant that he could continue standing by your side then so be it. 

“I’m a loser? Says the one who literally spends all their time studying and didn’t know how to let loose until I showed you how—your definition of ‘fun’ was spending four hours isolated at the library reading about the influential aspects of Renaissance paintings in modern art,” Felix countered, thinking back fondly on the memory.

The two of you continued to playfully bicker even after entering the lecture hall, only managing to quiet down as soon as the professor began administering the test. You finished a lot quicker than he did, and you could see his pained expression as he continued to struggle with the assignment for the next hour. The class was silent, students either leaving after the examination was completed or were sitting quietly on their phones waiting for the rest of the class to finish the exam, and with everyone mostly distracted it gave you a good excuse to admire him from afar. His face was contorted with a whole bunch of different emotions running through his features, and while you were considering helping him on at least one problem, it would violate your code of ethics—not to mention that he was a big boy, and you were confident that he could manage by himself. 

It was another forty minutes before he finished, standing up with a visible frown on his face as he handed the test back to the professor before making his way back to you. Both of you walked out the classroom side-by-side and in silence, and as you exited the building you began to notice the worry that seemed to have etched itself into his face. Slapping him lightly on the bicep, you brought him out of his stupor and flashed him a smile that seemed to calm his racing heart for now. 

“Relax, let’s go to the cafe down the street to get your mind off this test. Remember, I accept bribes in the form of anything that has caffeine or is sugary and sweet,” you suggested, looping your arm with his and tugging him towards the building. 

And for about half an hour, that seemed to do the trick. The test was soon forgotten as he watched you devour a cinnamon bun, and drink at least two cups of coffee as you both chatted aimlessly about miscellaneous things. It wasn’t until he was walking you back to your dorm and he heard a ping! from his cellphone did the worrisome thoughts come flooding back in. 

“95, huh I knew the professor was going to drop that question,” you shrugged, glancing down at your phone, before pocketing it. As you looked back on his figure, you could see his face fall slightly behind the phone, and you knew this meant bad news. “Come on, it can’t be that bad.” 

Felix tugged the phone out of your reach, holding it over his head as you came closer and stood underneath him. The two of you were only a few inches apart, and you could practically hear his heart hammering in his chest, and the warmth from his breath as he towered over you. 

“Promise you won’t get mad,” a small but playful pout sat on his lips as he continued to hold the phone out of your reach. Rolling your eyes, you continued to jump and try to reach the phone, but since he was taller than you it was pretty much impossible for you to reach. “Hmm, an 80 isn’t that terrible for studying is it?” 

It was back, his signature cocky smirk that repulsed yet attracted you at the same time, flitting across his lips. With your mouth agape, you weren’t sure what you were supposed to be feeling at the moment. All you were aware of was the surge of undistinguishable emotions that flooded your body and before you could even begin to process what was going on, your arms somehow find their way around his waist with your head resting against his chest. His entire body stiffened up at your touch and you could feel his heart racing against your ear, your heart beating at the same speed. Only a few seconds seemed to pass, before you could feel his hands on your body, they were tentative at first, but soon held you with as much strength as you gripped his body. 

There it was again, a few seconds late and you would have missed it. Despite the redness in your cheeks and the overwhelming amount of embarrassment that radiated off of you, your eyes glanced up to meet his own, watching as they tentatively flitted over your lips. He seemed unsure of himself, deciding whether he really wanted to follow through with his actions, and in that split second he decided to risk it all, casually leaning in—hoping to close the already short space between your bodies. 

They are nothing but worthless nobodies and they will bring you nothing but trouble. Promise me, you’ll stay as far away as possible from them, please. 

In an instant, your body untangled itself from his, your breath ragged and your eyes darting everyone except his face. He stood there dumbfounded, he wanted to reach out to you, to ask what he did wrong—was he misinterpreting the signals, imagine the chemistry between the two of you, did he make a mistake? You barely had enough brain power to focus on him as you could feel your heart crumbling inside of your ribcage, your breath coming out in short spurts as you struggled to regain control over the situation at hand. You couldn’t recognize yourself anymore, the person that you have become after attending the university for a few measly months and you have already strayed so far from where you started. But this wasn’t the type of growth that you could be proud of, fraternizing with the enemy, the same enemy that you were warned countless times before to stay away from. 

This was wrong—everything was wrong. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, your life wasn’t supposed to come to this point as you stood here as living proof of everything that your parents despised. But, you weren’t that far from salvation. You had been delusional for months, and it was about time that you started making amends. Whatever thing that you had with him was now over, and it was about time that you began living the life that your parents wanted you to have, free from parasites and monstrosities like him. 

Muttering some sort of excuse, you backed away from him before taking off back to your dorm, leaving in your wake a bewildered heartbroken (although he would never admit it) Lee Felix in your wake. 

six. 

You have successfully managed to avoid him for three days, but you knew that was just luck. He knew your schedule like the back of his hand, you have told him a numerous amount of times where you were throughout the day and well, old habits die hard. Honestly, if he really wanted to find you he would have done it already, but he was being a gentleman and giving some personal space to let you calm down before the confrontation happened. You were grateful in a sense, you needed this time to reflect on what an utter disaster you have become. This has gone on for too long, what started off as bringing some joy and excitement to your dull life has spiraled out of control. You lost yourself in the process, fading to the background as this unrecognizable version has taken center stage. What would your parents say if they saw you like this, completely different from the child they raised you to become, fraternizing with the enemy and sympathizing with the same scum they told you to avoid for your entire life. 

Regret oozed through your entire being and you wished that you could take back everything that has happened. You should have turned him down that fateful day, rejected him cold-heartedly in the cafe, and let the rumors come about you and your family—the outcome would have probably been better than your current reality. While you couldn’t go back and change the past, you could instead work on mending the future, which is why you thrusted yourself back into your studies at full force. There was no place for distractions where you’re heading, and you assumed it would be easy to surround yourself with other intellectuals that shared your same passion and drive. 

This would prove more difficult than you originally assumed. The atmosphere on campus has changed completely, and to put it frankly, you were being avoided like the fucking plague. Every time you walked past a group of students, you could hear the hushed whispers and feel the glares being directed your way. Obviously, they were smart enough not to say their comments loud enough for you to hear or for you to catch them staring, as they looked away as soon as you even turned your head in their direction. Even some of your friends, the same ones that you’ve known perhaps your entire life would even spare a glance in your direction. You could even feel the glares from some of the members of Stray Kids, and while you were not necessarily on speaking terms with them, it didn’t give them an excuse to be rude with you.

You did your best to ignore the lingering looks and comments throughout the day, but as you strolled out of your last class of the day, you couldn’t stand it any longer. In particular, there was a group of girls that you have practically known all of your life, ever since elementary school, who had the audacity to mutter your name and laugh as you walked by—and that was your breaking point. You were usually a patient person and usually weren’t quick to rush to judgement, but this was the last straw. Rolling up your sleeves, you marched up to them with a scowl written across your face.. 

“If you have a problem with me you should say something to my face instead of talking shit behind my back, you fucking cowards,” you hissed, crossing your arms in front of your chest as you glared at them. Two of the girls mumbled something under their breath, tugging at the sleeves of the main girl in the center. But, she wasn’t intimidated by you, instead she took a step forward till your faces were only a couple inches apart. 

“[L/N] [Y/N], long time no see. Where’s that boyfriend of yours, is he off robbing some banks?” her voice was shrill as she hissed out that insult. Her behavior was typical, and while she appeared to act condescending and superior towards you, her true emotions were written as plain as day across her face—she was jealous. It was in the way her rhetorical question had that unnecessary sharpness curled at the end of words or the way the scowl on her face was a little more prominent than it needed to be. In all honesty, you couldn’t blame her. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, Lee Felix was quite an attractive person, but that was all besides the point. He wasn’t yours to begin with and whatever relationship the two of you had was now nonexistent, so it didn’t matter how pretty you find his face. 

“He’s not my boyfriend, so if you could kindly back the—” you huffed, readjusting the stack of papers and textbooks in your arms. 

“Whatever, look we don’t mean any harm, honestly we’re just worried about you, honey. I mean, you’ve heard the rumors about people like them, they’re dangerous and we’re just worried about you getting in harm's way,” you could see the way the glint in her eyes seemed to return after you confirmed that were in fact not dating Felix. The fake sincerity in her voice was piercing to your ears, and you wanted nothing more than to get rid of her and stop her from prying into your personal life. “Plus, what would you parents say if they see you hanging out with someone like him?” 

So that’s what this about, this was the entire underlying reason why, this is why she decided to pick a fight with you. Of course, everything was about power, it always is with someone like her and her family—the Moon family was always power-hungry gremlins. For many years your family has sort of allied itself with the Moons, not by choice, but just because of circumstances. You have known her your entire life, and up until this point you have always known her to be jealous of everything that you had. And now, it was no different, she always wanted what she couldn’t get her hands on, and everything in your life was currently on the menu.It was the typical story, she wanted to use him for what she did best, flirting with danger—like your parents, hers would practically disown her if they found out she was fooling around with someone with low status like him, but the thrill and the temptation was too great to pass up. It was all for the thrill, and some desire was too strong. 

Oh did you have some choice words for her, but it seemed like your voice failed you felt a warm hand envelop your wrist. Whipping around you were once again met with an eyeful of black clothing that obscured your vision. The heat radiating off of him was almost suffocating, and you struggled to catch your breath around him. With a final glare in the direction of the trio, he tugged your wrist and your body followed as he dragged you away from the trio of girls. The two of you rounded the corner to one of the Biology lecture halls, before you finally grasped control of yourself and shook off his hold from your body. 

You were your own independent person meaning that you could definitely handle yourself, and definitely didn’t need someone like him to save you. There was an unreadable expression written across his features, as you cradled your burning wrist  to your chest. Neither of you dared to speak a word, the awkward silence was deafening, both of your eyes were diverted towards the ground distracted by the concrete sidewalks. You needed to get out of there, as far away as you could manage and while you didn’t want to be the one to break the silence, you knew it was necessary unless you wanted to prolong your time spent in his presence. 

“Thanks for you know, everything that you did back there, but I was handling things on my own.”

You still couldn’t look him in the eyes, knowing that you would break if that ever happened. Instead, you opted to look straight ahead, finding some interesting looking trees that stood out behind him. His scoff startled you slightly, causing you to quickly look at his face before diverting your eyes once more. 

“Whatever you say, princess/prince. I’m sure you could have managed just fine on your own,” he rolled his eyes. That statement that ignited a fire within you, your face flushed and your palms growing sweaty as you balled them up into fists. 

“What do you mean by that?” you hissed, in an instant your eyes locked with his own—and your expression immediately softened. His demeanor also seemed to soften under your gaze, and he hesitantly approached your figure, till only a couple of inches stood between the two of you. But, you weren’t going to let him get away with it that easily. As you attempted to take a step back, his hand grabbed your wrist suddenly, stopping your body from moving away from him any further. “Hey, look, I’m serious, I’m not some damsel in distress that constantly needs saving. I can take care of myself and I don’t need you constantly babysitting me, like I’m some child because I—” 

With two steps the distance between the two of you closed, his face leaned and before you knew it, his lips were pressed against your own. He tasted like caramel with a bit of a smokey flavor, not quite like barbeque and not quite like cigarettes, perhaps something in between. His lips were slightly chapped against your own, but the kiss itself was gentle, his hands placed gingerly on your hips as he pulled you against his body. He was a fantastic kisser, by the way, every direction that his lips moved in and the way he was holding you made you practically putty in his hands as you melted into his touch. Soon, the need for oxygen was too great, the two of you breaking apart as the only sounds that could be heard were the pants from the both of you that stood out harshly against the quietness of the campus. 

“We, oh god, we shouldn’t have—” you paused, attempting to gather your thoughts, trying to quiet the thousands upon thousands scenarios and ideas that were running through your head at the moment. Your parents, god, if they ever found out about this you would be ruined. Everything that you have worked for over the years would be completely shattered, demolished and bulldozed by the boy that stood in front of you—and for some reason, when you looked into his warm brown eyes, you didn’t seem to care. You were never really a reckless person, but for him, you were willing to risk it all. At this point in time, what he meant to you was worth more than whatever punishment your parents were going to inflict on you once they found out. 

“You know I don’t care about what people think, and neither should you. Why is it any of their business what the two of us do with our lives? If I like you and you like me, then I don’t see the problem,” he pushed your body back a little bit, so he could look into your eyes. For once, there was no cockiness or arrogance in his voice, instead he looked at you passionately, with his hands holding yours and his thumb rubbing circles on the tops of your hands. There was so many unspoken words between the two of you, but just this once his touch and his presence was enough. 

And for once you could safely say that Lee Felix was right, in this moment it was quite honestly you and him against the world. 

seven. 

To say that things were weird between the two of you was definitely an understatement. Neither of you addressed what had happened a couple of nights ago, the kiss was almost a taboo subject and to mention it meant that you both had to address the change in your relationship with each other. Instead, it was easier to ignore everything that changed and instead pretend that everything was just fine between the two of you. In all honesty, you would be lying if you said that you never considered a relationship with him, and in reality, that is all you have been thinking about the last couple of days. You never thought that love could feel like this, every moment with him was as if you were floating, drifting endlessly on cloud nine with no intentions of stopping. Every stereotype and previous assumptions about him were completely thrown out the window. He was perhaps the kindest soul that you could ever meet, despite his rough exterior, and he treated you with the utmost kindness, his manners rivaling some of the more posh boys that you have dated in the past. He was a complete gentleman and never pushed you to do anything that you didn’t want to, respected his boundaries and of course, acted as the epitome of the perfect boyfriend. You knew that you should tread with caution, the honeymoon phase was still in full effect, but with him, you couldn’t help but dive straight in. With him you were loose and reckless, the complete opposite of everything that you were molded to be by your parents. 

And while you were unsure of where your relationship with him stands, you were first and foremost his tutor, you would be damned if you were the one who ultimately caused his grades to slip again. Which is why most of your dates the past few days have been focused on only studying, the two of you meeting up at cafes or the library in order to help him prepare for this upcoming final on Literature of the 20th Century. There was a slight tension between the two of you, understandable considering the circumstances, but you were adamant that there would be nothing to distract him from acing this exam, and this was evident in how you threatened him with everything under the sun if he even dared to try anything other than studying. 

Before both of you knew it the exam was quickly approaching, the last study date seemed to fly by in a matter of minutes, and you both found yourself walking the familiar path on the way to the lecture hall in time for the morning exam. As usual, Felix clutched the study guide in his hand as he walked, mumbling little facts about each work of literature that was present on the page. You couldn’t help but smile at his mannerisms, watching his face furrow as he was deep in thought made him appear almost cute, vastly different from his every day cool and cocky exterior. 

“So, what’s my prize this time for scoring well on the exam?” he asked you coolly, cocking one eyebrow in the air playfully, the study guide soon forgotten in his hands. 

“Bold of you to assume that there is a prize, I mean, studying hard and putting in the work and receiving the outcome you wanted sounds like enough of a reward to me,” you shrugged, giving him a wink. In response, he shot you a teasing glare shaking his head and rolling his eyes. 

“While that sounds very uh tempting I have another idea,” he paused slightly for dramatic effect before continuing, “if I get an A on this test, then I think you should promise me something.” Of course, he didn’t really go into details after that, citing that if he talked about it any longer than he will jinx himself and not only fluke this test, but he will also cheat himself out of this deal. 

Bidding you a quick farewell, he disappeared inside the lecture hall blowing you a kiss before vanishing behind the wooden doors. Even in a situation like this he seemed to find time to be flirty, ignoring the obvious tension and oddness between the two of you in favor of attempting to restore some sense of normalcy. He was different to say the least, and that’s probably what attracted you to him in the first place, and with a slight shake of your head, you turned away and walked towards your own classroom. 

And you couldn’t begin to hide the redness in your cheeks or the boisterous hammering of your heart beneath your ribcage, which confirmed what you had previously known already—that you were head-over-heels in love with this boy. 

As soon as Felix stepped foot outside of the lecture room, his eyes desperately scanned the campus grounds looking for your figure. He was ecstatic and couldn't wait to share the good news with you, but as his eyes moved around looking for any sign of you, he was disappointed to not see your figure in sight. This emotion was evident on his face, and it was hard for him to hide it, as he opted to shove his hands inside the pockets of his leather jacket. He wanted to boast to you, to shove his high grade in your face and smugly demand his prize—an official date with you. No, he wouldn’t accept anymore of this “study date” bullshit, while he did get to spend time with you (which he did very much enjoy) he wanted something that wasn’t underneath the guise of school. He wanted something that was real and concrete between the two of you, and this was the perfect opportunity to voice his true intentions. 

Felix was no idiot, the kiss that you both shared was something that doesn’t normally happen between a tutor and a student, let alone between friends. At the moment he wasn’t really sure where your relationship stood, the two had walked the very thin line between friends and lovers, and after the kiss, a boundary was crossed and it’s too late to go back now. Pulling out his phone, he decided to send you a quick text just in case you were running late from class. 

very annoying (but cute) boy: hey, where are you?? 

very annoying (but cute) boy: i think i would like to redeem my prize right now, and in order for me to do that i need you to be here 

Even after ten minutes there was no response from you, while it wasn’t that odd for you to go a bit radio silent when you’re busy studying, but he thought it was a bit strange of you to forget something as important as this. That was it, you must have become preoccupied with something else, and you’ll end up getting back to him when you find the time. Shrugging his shoulders, he pocketed his phone before taking off to find the rest of his friends, his thoughts lingering on you the whole way there. 

It’s only a few hours later when an announcement is made across the campus, alerting the entire student body of your disappearance. Of course the word “kidnapping” isn’t used in order to not alarm the rest of the student body, but the meaning behind your disappearance was evident across the campus. The first thing that he did once the news was broken to him was punch a wall, sure, not the most effective thing to do but at the moment he was unable to contain himself and his emotions. He was angry, in fact he was more than angry, and he honestly didn’t know what to do with himself. How could this have happened, especially under his watch? You were his responsibility, he was supposed to be able to protect you from everything, especially things like this, but he has failed you. 

Currently he was both a mess inside and out, his hand coming in contact with the coffee table that was situated in the center of the room. His eyes were ablaze, a storm brewing within them, as he glared at the taller male in front of him. The rest of his friends gathered around the two males, watching the scene unfold in front of them. 

“What do you mean we can’t go and save her? We’ve done recon missions like this all time, we will in and out before anything really happens,” Felix slammed his fist down on the coffee table, shaking the furniture in an attempt to prove his point to the male in front of him. However, Chan was more mature than that and would not be easily swayed by irrational persuasions. 

“I know you care about them and under different circumstances I wouldn’t be opposing you, but we can’t risk anything right now. The media’s attention is already fixated on us, and causing any more publicity like this would draw us even more into the spotlight, and right now we don't need everything we do to be a spectacle for the public to criticize." 

It was logical, every single word that ushered past his mouth and Felix knew that. But, he couldn’t help the fire that spread across his entire body, tingling from the top of his head to the tips of his fingers, urging him to do something, anything, calling him to action. He couldn’t take this bureaucracy anymore, following the rules in order to appease the ever critical public and for what? The outcome was always the same in the end, the public always demanding (and never satisfied) for a change, a way to exterminate the vermin that lived in the streets, and they always drew the short-end of the stick. Forced to retreat back into the outskirts of the town, hiding as if they were the ones who committed the sins, while the real demons hide among the general population. 

The door slammed closed behind him, the sound echoing slightly in the empty streets of the campus. In wake of your disappearance, it seemed like the student body and the school was taking extra precautions by instilling a mandatory curfew and for once, it seems that the student body was actually complying. Felix scoffed, shoving his hands into his pocket, before turning and taking off in a random direction. He couldn’t think straight, his brain too busy being clouded over by the sheer frustration and anger that he felt. In this moment, he truly understood what it meant to be helpless, and he could earnestly say that it was the worst feeling in the world. The fire inside was itching for him to do something—to take action, but as much as he wanted to, he was completely helpless to the situation at hand. 

And for the first time in his life, Lee Felix felt utterly defeated.

eight. 

It has been three days since you have gone missing, and he could swear that he was losing his mind. There was nothing, no clues, no witnesses, nothing—as if you had simply disappeared without a trace. By now the campus had returned to a version of normalcy, the streets were no longer empty, the classrooms and dorms repopulated, and the campus seemed to buzz with life once again, which only seemed to enrage the male. He couldn’t understand how everyone could simply pick up and move on, turn a blind eye to the fact that it hasn’t even been a week since your disappearance and suddenly, it was perfectly acceptable for everything to return to normal? No. He wouldn’t stand for this, he couldn’t. His conscience wouldn’t allow him to idly sit by and wait for news to come to him, instead he needed to be proactive—be out there searching and not resting until he brought you back safely. 

But, here lies the problem. Felix was floating in the same boat as the detectives, officers and everyone else looking for you, with absolutely no leads on who took you and why. All he could do was rely on his gut instincts, and thus far in life, there wasn’t a time where his gut has ever steered him wrong. Everything about this was pointing to their rival gang Neo Culture Technology, or what they liked to call themselves, NCT. Sure, it was only a hunch that he had, but everything seemed to fall into place around this theory. Exhibit A, they had the means to do it. Saying that they were extremely well funded was an understatement, in more simpler terms, they were loaded. Anything they wanted, they could have just by waving a stack of bills and it was done. Exhibit B, they had the motive to do it. The rivalry between the two gangs was no joking matter, even though they both seemed dominant now, any action was a small enough spark to set the whole rivalry ablaze once again. And he would damned if this wasn’t the signalling flare. Exhibit C, his gut was telling him that this was the answer. Now, there have been many things that Lee Felix has been wrong about in his life, his gut has always steered him in the right direction—and right now, it was practically screaming at him to follow this lead. 

However, there was a slight problem and that came in the form of someone named Bang Chan. Felix was explicitly told not to move a muscle, to not do anything that would draw attention to the gang, and rescuing you was bound to blow everything that they have worked so hard for—obliterated due to his selfish desire. But, he couldn’t help himself. What kind of person would he be if he had the chance to possibly save you and instead decided that the reputation of Stray Kids was more valuable. No, if he did that he would embody exactly what society deemed him: a monster. 

That’s how he found himself here, somewhere past two in the morning outside one of the many abandoned warehouses in the inner city. It was almost idiotic for him to be here, alone, with no backup and he was certainly a madman to try to even attempt to pull something off like this. The darkness provided a decent cover and gave him the slight element of surprise, but with no windows, it was impossible to actually see if he was walking into a trap. All he was running on was his gut instinct, and while it has never failed him before, there was always a first time for everything. 

Bracing himself, he kicked the doors open putting up his fists and readying his stance, prepared for a fight. But, it never came, his posture immediately relaxing as soon as he looked towards the center of the vast room. There you were, bound to a chair with rope and gagged, but otherwise unharmed staring at him with wide eyes. Navigating around the miscellaneous shipping containers and wooden boxes that plagued the room, he ran to you, undoing your gag and began working on the ropes that held your body to the chair. 

“I thought you would never find me,” you choked out, your voice hoarse and scratchy. The relief that flooded your body once you saw him almost had tears pooling in your eyes. Suddenly the frigid air of the warehouse didn’t feel that cold anymore, and it was as if all your prayers had finally been answered. Within the next minute, he had freed you from your binds, taking off his leather jacket and draping the article of clothing over your shoulders in an attempt to keep you warm, while wrapping one arm around you and pulling you into his body. Despite all the warmth that he was providing, you were still freezing, and you could barely feel your legs moving as he attempted to guide you out of the warehouse. 

You were vaguely aware of him talking, his lips were moving yet, at least to you, it seemed like there was no sound coming out. The blank expression on your features was enough to indicate this fact to him, as he instead tried to navigate you faster through the warehouse. It was obvious that he was worried, it was written all over his face—the way his eyebrows were furrowed, his arm wrapped just a bit too tightly around your shoulders, and the way his other hand kept hovering over his pocket as if he was going to pull a weapon out any minute now. Come to think of it, you haven’t seen your captures in a while, and that probably was not a good thing. It had slipped your mind, but as Felix led you out of the warehouse it seemed to be the only thing on the forefront of your mind. 

The feeling of anxiety seemed to crawl up your throat, the thought of being captured again causing a new wave of panic to wash over you. Never have you experienced a situation as horrible as these past few days, and you were not willing to relive this horrifying experience again. With these overwhelming new emotions everything seemed to be too much for you, added onto the sound of distant sounds of sirens and bright spotlights that seemed to dance in front of your field of vision, your body couldn’t hold on any longer as you suddenly collapsed—becoming limp in the arms of your savior. 

It took a second for Felix to adjust your newfound weight in his arms, grunting slightly as he picked you up and began carrying you through the open doors of the warehouse and was met with a swarm of police cars and officers with their guns drawn directly at him. 

Fuck, what did he manage to get himself into?

nine. 

Felix knew that he wasn’t supposed to be here, but then again, when has he ever followed directions? Hospitals were never his favorite place, and in all honesty, he tended to avoid them when he could, the sterile and cleanliness smell from them making him feel as if he was choking on a gallon of hand sanitizer. But, at the moment, he was here of his own free will—lurking around the corridors of the building for something specific. It was obvious that he stuck out like a sore thumb, his dark clothing standing out against the cleanliness white background, but for some reason no one seemed to pay him any attention. Instead, every nurse, doctor, and patient were too preoccupied with their own tasks, far too busy to pay him any mind. 

Rounding the corner with his hands tucked deep into his pockets, his eyes scanned the halls of the hospital before landing on a specific room, PATIENT ROOM 325. He glanced to the left, then to the right, and after making sure that no one was around, he pulled the handle of the door and opened it just enough to slip into the room. 

It was dark, and the only light came from the open windows in front of him, casting a soft glow. The full moon hung brightly in the sky and the stars were on full display tonight, and it would have been a beautiful sight if he wasn’t focused on something else. A couple of feet away from the window was a stereotypical hospital bed, or what he could assume was a hospital bed, with the curtains drawn around it. There was no other noise in the room besides the faint hum of a few machines by the bedside and the occasional sound of crickets from outside, which caused him to question if there was perhaps anybody in the room. 

Taking another step forward, he reached forward and grabbed one side of the curtain, prepared to see who (if anybody) was lying in the bed. However, a voice stopped him dead in his tracks. 

“You know we’re supposed to stay away from each other.” The voice was hoarse, but still recognizable, and his heart clenched at the sound. He stepped forward, grasping at the curtain in front of him, his knuckles turning white from how firmly he was gripping the material. There was an internal war raging inside of him, trying to decide if he could even bear to see you in your current state. However, he soon decided against his current judgement and before he could reason against himself, he yanked the curtains aside to reveal the sight of you before him. 

In all honesty, you could have fared worse from the whole ordeal, but you managed to only make it out with slight dehydration and some minor cuts and bruising. Nevertheless, Felix’s breath hitched at the sight of you as he slowly approached the side of your bed. Even with your hair a mess, the prominent bags underneath your eyes, and a small but tired smile, he couldn’t help but think that you were the most beautiful person that he has ever laid eyes on. 

“You’re doing it again,” you purse your lips, your eyes narrowing as you drink in his figure in the moonlight. 

“Doing what?” 

“Looking at me like I hung both the moon and the stars in the sky.” 

He was thankful for the dimness of the room to conceal the flush of his cheeks. Approaching your bedside, he sat at the very edge of the bed, almost afraid to get any closer, as if one slight movement would break you. The both of you soon fell into a comfortable silence, but there was a slight amount of awkward tension that hung in the air. You wanted to tell him so many things, spend the rest of your lifetime apologizing for dragging him into this mess, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say a word—everything you want to say sitting heavily on your tongue. Instead, you gingerly moved your hand to brush over his own and let it rest on top of his own as he interlocked your fingers together. There it was, a silent conversation exchanged between the two of you, and when you gave his hand a long squeeze, he gave you a small squeeze back. 

There were sounds coming from outside of your room, the sound of low chatter followed by the brisk footsteps was enough for Felix to recoil his hand abruptly and to stand suddenly. It was the cold wave of reality raining down on the both of you, that he shouldn’t be here and you shouldn’t be seeing someone like him. 

“You know it wasn’t your fault, right, all of this wasn’t your fault,” you muttered, choking back tears. You reached up to grab his hand once again, feeling his body slightly tense up at your touch. This was a cruel world and the two of you were simply living proof of that statement, unable to change your fate and the bad luck that came with it. Ultimately, the entire plot was an elaborate plan by Stray Kids’ rival gang in order to draw attention to them at that prestigious school and keep the gang in the limelight to distract from the nefarious activities executed by NCT. And for the most part, while it seemed like everything turned out alright in the end, there were consequences that needed to be paid. 

After spending some long hours in the police station, Felix was finally released after being found innocent of any involvement in your attack. Not only  did he earn a complete berating from Chan, but he was also banned from seeing you, and if he was caught well, the wrath of Chan was going to come raining down on him once more. But for you he was willing to risk it, you were different from every other risk that he has ever taken in his life, and if he was being completely honest, you were the best one. And he would like to think that he could one day reap the rewards. 

You on the other hand, were rushed to the hospital where you were met with your parents on the phone, demanding lawyers and the police enforcement catch whoever did this to their child. Immediately they blamed Felix, and would not listen to a single word you said defending him. Their minds were already made up, and in their minds he had tainted you—changed you from their perfect and lovely child, into someone just like them. 

“You can’t change my mind, sweetheart, my decision is final,” your mother declares, shuffling around the hospital room, rearranging your items that were haphazardly thrown around the room. Your dad stood in the corner with his arms folded across his chest, not uttering a word against your mother’s declaration. 

“You want me to move halfway across the world after I’ve gotten into the most prestigious university here, and you’re telling me not to be upset?” you throw up your hands in exasperation, sitting up in the bed. 

Your sudden outburst caused your mother to stop in her tracks, before taking three steps closer towards your bed, until she was only a few feet away. Her eyebrows were scrunched together, the look in her eyes was enough to send chills down your spine, and the snarl sitting on her lips let you know that you were about to be in a deep pile of shit. 

“[Y/N], I’m going to tell you once more and after that I don’t want to hear any more complaints from you anymore, understand? We are all moving to America and away from this wretched place and that’s final,” she spat at you, before turning away and resumed tidying the room, “you need a fresh start away from this tainted place, I mean, look at what you’ve become—infected by those vermin, and look what they turned you into! A fresh start will be good for all of us, and maybe finally getting away from those despicable people can you finally return to how you were.”

Your mother was never a woman who actively changed her mind once it was set on something, and her latest decision was no different. Everything was practically being finalized as you and Felix both, the entire house being condensed into cardboard boxes then placed on a plane to go to America, and you were going to join them in a few days. 

“You should probably get back soon,” your voice was barely above a whisper and if it was any quieter the strawberry blond would have missed everything that you had uttered. HIs jaw visibly clenched at your words, his face turned away from you so you couldn’t see the internal turmoil that was written across his features—eyebrows furrowed, a deep frown sitting on his lips and a storm brewing within his brown eyes. “I don’t want to get you into more trouble than I already have.” 

“And what if I don’t want to go?” 

He turned around to face you, his usually warm brown eyes now ablaze, and you could only describe the expression on his face as the most passionate that you have ever seen him. Reaching out for your hand, he grasped it, intertwining his fingers with your own and gripping onto you as if his life depended on it. 

“Please, don’t make this harder than it already is,” you turned your head away from him, feeling tears fighting to spill over. He didn’t need to see you like this and it would only make it harder to say goodbye. With one blink, the tears start falling, cascading down your cheeks before dribbling down onto the sterile hospital sheets below. 

Felix couldn’t help but feel his heart break at the sight, and instead opted to gingerly pull you into his arms. Your head rested against his chest, your tears soaking his shirt and sobs wracking your body as he patted your back soothingly. He wasn’t sure how long the two of you stayed there like it, but it was only until your sobs had turned into quiet sniffles and your tears had almost ceased. 

“I don’t know what the future will hold for the both of us, but I promise you, I will find you. I don’t care how long it will take, but someday I will make my way back to you,” his voice was soft, the softest that you have ever heard from him, but instead of feeling the usual comfort from his words, you couldn’t help but feel a cold sense of dread wash over you. 

“You shouldn’t make promises that you can’t keep,” you muttered. His body stiffened at your words, and it was as if the confusion was radiating off of him, and it was only when you pulled your body away could you really see his face. 

ten.

Bidding goodbye to some of your classmates, you readjusted your backpack before walking out of the cafe and into the busy street. America was certainly nothing like you could have ever imagined, in more ways than one it was similar to the city that you grew up, but completely different at the same time. In the six months that you have been here, you have adjusted to the best of your ability. Everything from the culture to the language, at first completely baffled you, but as you listened to the locals aimlessly chat amongst themselves as you walked down the sidewalk, you couldn’t help but feel as if you fit right in. 

The sun was high in the sky, the warm rays shining down on you, as you carefully slipped your sunglasses over your eyes and continued walking. In the distance, you faintly heard the sound of a motorcycle roaring in the distance. The revving of the engine continues to get louder, until you one zoom past you and continue on towards the highway. Not that it mattered, but you couldn’t make out the driver behind the tinted helmet, and for some reason that caused the ache in your heart to return. 

You paused for a second, just as the pedestrian signal turned green, allowing you to cross the street. Around you people moved forward, carrying on with their conversations, but you were frozen on one side of the street. And suddenly you were back in there all over again, the familiar feeling of his arm wrapped around your waist, the melodic sound of his laughter ringing in your ears, and the stupidly cute smile that always seemed to grace his lips whenever you were around. Every memory about him seemed to crash over you, until you were drowning in a sea of moments where you could never return. 

Your heart clenched at the thought, and briefly you allowed yourself to wonder about him. Over the months that you have spent here, you have repressed every thought about him. In the beginning everything reminded you of him, he was everywhere, and nowhere at the same time. However, as time went on, it became easier. You made new friends, went to new places, and slowly but surely you started to accept that this was the way that things were—and you were coming to terms with your newfound reality. But sometimes you days like these happen, and you’re suddenly crippled with the thought of him. 

However, you are instead learning how to swim, and managing to stay afloat in the ocean of memories. You were learning to breathe without him by your side. You exhaled, releasing a shaky breath, before refocusing on the crosswalk in front of you. Looking both ways and making sure that the light was green, you continued walking—one foot in front of the other. 

You were grateful that he walked into your life. He taught you lessons that you could have never learned on your own, and gave you memories that you would never trade for the world. In the end, while it was never meant to be, you would never forget the taste of the fruit that you were never meant to have—the irresistible sweetness of a boy named Lee Felix.

[cyndecreativity]

Day 5 - Believe in Yourself

Throne – Watching the sunrise – “I’m not saying I told you so…”

Unable to sleep, Alden wanders the halls of the Imperial Palace lost in thought. He finds himself in the Grand Hall, confronted with the reality of his imminent position as Emperor. It all feels too much for him, but a surprise visit with his brother cheers him up a bit.

~2500 words

---

The quiet, comfortable solitude of night always invigorated him. No teachers, parents, siblings, or peoples to interact with as they all slumbered lifted a burden from his shoulders he never recognized until the weightless feeling after it left. With the world sleeping, he finally had freedom. Freedom to just be rather than be something.

In an effort to avoid waking his wife – wife! – he roamed the halls of the palace, lost in thought. The moon shone brightly through the various openings in the palace’s walls, the windows open for the cool night air to circulate. Idania had insisted on it to reduce stuffy and stagnant air. Servants would be up with the sun to close them all again, the stained glass painting the inner walls in the sunlight. He had no preference either way, something that frustrated her to no end. But with the mental and physical exhaustion of his new role as heir to the Scorpio Crown, he rarely had the energy left for such menial decisions.

A few overnight servants, the ones that swept the floors and straightened carpets and dusted and all the other things that Idania organized for the beautification of the palace. They all started upon seeing him, but he apologized for bothering them and continued wandering. Most attempted to ask if they could help, but he thanked them and proceeded through the grounds. In truth, he had no real destination in mind, just let his feet take him where they would, his mind lost in the weeds of anxiety.

The older members of the council had little faith in him, having hoped to overthrow his mother with news of his status as a bastard and the actions of his brother. They had no care for the circumstances or truth behind either, only desired to seize power. But they also had not put in the time or effort to turn the people to their side, resulting only in ineffectual posturing as the people chanted for the Kil’Jades. Karlina spent time as the grieving mother, spent time rallying the people, spent time garnering sympathy for her children. When Alden returned to them after years missing, thought dead, they people rejoiced. The announcement of Sylvain’s survival met the same raucous applause. The people loved the Empress and her family. The other council members had no chance, so caught up in their petty squabbles, that all they ever managed to do made things worse for the peasantry.

He would have to fight them, fix the problems they crafted to make him look bad, to squelch their powergrabs before they came to light. He remembered the many times he had stumbled into bettering life for the people in Lotuserna with Sylvain’s help. The ripple effect of his small appetite that turned into food banks all over the Lotus Capital had been a startling lesson in economics and goodwill for him. Could he replicate that on his own?

He could always consult with Sophie. She trained in governance from a young age and had the blood of the Queen Mother in her veins. She managed to repair the damages brought by Preminger and his poor advice to her brother Andre in a few months as Queen Regent. Even the rumor of her relationship with a Libra had not sullied her reputation and popularity with her subjects. The Djinn had no head for governing among them, not a single one, though Tristan knew a small village Mayor-in-Training that might be able to give him a good word with the Taurus leadership. He had made an impression on the Grand High Judge in the Libra while Idania made friends with the Clipped down below.

Footsteps echoed around him, jerking him unceremoniously from his thoughts. The Grand Hall stretched out around him, a stage-like dais stretched across the back of the room. The carpet, a rich tapestry of reds, greys, and browns for each of the tribes, fringed with white tassels for the Hibernation Guard. Along the edges sat the tables and stacks of chairs for Council meetings, large dinners, and small parties. A servant clutched his cleaning supplies to his chest, having not expected the Emperor-in-training to have shown up in the middle of the night.

Before he could jump into attempting to serve and impress his master, Alden waved a hand to calm him. “It’s all right. I just couldn’t sleep. Please proceed.”

The man’s eyes practically bulged from his head, his tail quivering behind his head. The next Emperor apologized to him! “I-I was actually just finishing up in here, Your Highness.” He balked, his stinger twitching.

Alden offered the poor man a smile. “Well, don’t let me keep you.”

The man spread his arms in the typical Scorpio show of respect and hurried away, grabbing his bucket on the way.

Once the servant disappeared down the hall, Alden wandered through the hall, his bare feet thumping quietly over the scratchy rug, slapping softly on the polished stone, his tail clicking absently behind. He traced fingers over the long tables, not a speck of dust in sight. How many men and women sat at these tables to fight over how best to frustrate and lead their people? How many would he cycle through over the course of his reign? How many would he have to prove himself to, would he have to remind of his position, would he actually respect?

He reached the steps to the dais. He hesitated and looked up to the thrones that waited there. The large, ostentatious throne in the center, the same design but slightly shorter for the spouse of the Imperial Majesty, then the other smaller three for the clan heads. His right arm ached slightly, a flash of purple in the magical veins, and he curled his hand into a fist.

Soon that throne would belong to him and the one beside it to Idania. His pulled in, his expression dark. He hated the idea that many would slight her for her origins, mock her for starting in an orphanage, and yet faun over her for being the Djinn of Water. He hated the idea that he would have to fight for her, protect her from their lies and politics, that no matter what she did, she would never be right for them. For him, it was normal, but he hated to see the love of his life mistreated in that way.

But with the power of the crown, of the throne behind him, they might learn to keep their mouths shut. He stepped gently over the stone and moved to the largest chair. It loomed over him, not quiet as large as when his father were alive, or the Emperor, or even a few years ago when his mother occupied the chair. He had grown, he surmised, over the years, over his journey. He looked up to the Scorpio crest at the top center of the chair, the three symbols of the clans encircled in the snowflake for the Hibernation Guard. A reminder of unity and over whom all the Emperor ruled and was ruled by.

A lot of power and a lot of responsibility rested in that simple piece of furniture. His fingers graced over the arm, also impeccably dust-free. The servants took their work very seriously. If he ever found it in disarray, if he ever found it to be dusty or streaked from cleaning, would he ever get enraged? Would he take that rage out on the staff?

“Daunting, isn’t it?”

Alden yelped, his tail raised to defend himself. At the back of the dais lie two doors that led to private hallways for the imperial family. Sylvain, his hair an ashen blonde, body hunched and leaned onto an elegant and functional cane, stood in the doorframe to the right. Alden heaved a breath to calm him heart. Sylvain chuckled and limped awkwardly and with great effort toward the chairs. Alden hurried around the chairs and offered to assist his brother. Despite his assumptions, Sylvain gratefully took Alden’s hand and led them to the chair. He gestured and Alden helped lower him into the spousal throne. With a gesture, Sylvain encouraged him to sit in the largest.

“It’s just a chair, you know.” His newly green eyes shimmered playfully in the torchlight.

Alden sighed and shook his head. “But it’s not, is it? I mean, functionally, yes, of course it’s just a chair. But…” He pointed to the Scorpio crest. “It represents so much more.”

Sylvain nodded and placed his hands on the top of his cane. “Do you remember what we were taught about the crest?”

A small chuckle shook the Red Prince. “I do.”

When he did not elaborate further, Sylvain smirked. “You do not.”

Alden rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe I don’t.”

A raspy chuckle drifted from the older Scorpio. “Then why worry so much? It’s just a piece of art on an overly elaborate piece of furniture.”

The younger brother huffed slightly. “There are those that worship this crest. Those that place trust in what it represents. That fight and die for it. That… will end up being my responsibility. All those people, Scorpio and the Hibernation Guard, will be relying on me to keep the peace in this room, to work toward their dreams and steer the empire true.” Red eyes met green. “I don’t know if I can do it, brother. It’s… it’s a lot. Perhaps too much. I’m sure to fuck it up, somehow.”

Sylvain nodded solemnly with recognition. He knew! He fell to one knee before his brother. “How did you do it? How did you live with the knowledge that it would all fall to you someday? That you would be responsible?”

Ashen eyebrows lifted over tired green eyes. “You think I lived with it?” He sighed slowly and shook his head. “I barely survived. But I had to put on a brave front for those around me. They expected a lot from me and I did what I had to.”

Alden’s shoulders sagged. Memories of their time in the Academy, of all the days Sylvain toiled in the library, or with some private tutor or another, flashed by in an instant. He never gave it much thought then, enjoying his time spent with Valash and Alexander, the days he spent roaming the city with Idania, the days he got caught stealing. No one expected anything of him. He took advantage of that then. Perhaps he should’ve paid more attention, focused more on studies, tried to be a better Prince.

“Doesn’t matter now, anyway.” Sylvain tapped his cane against the polished stone. “Mother has named you the next Emperor. And by the looks of things, you’ll do very well.”

Platitudes and apologies died on his tongue, sputtered out as nonsense. “You think I’ll do well?”

Sylvain gestured to the chair again. “Sit down. You’re making me nervous kneeling like that.” Alden moved without much though and sat in the main throne, focused solely on his brother. Sylvain smiled. “Typically, those that crave power are not very responsible with it. And since you don’t want the power and responsibility, you are more likely to wield it with temperance and kindness.”

The younger brother scoffed. “Please. Spare me. There are plenty that don’t want the throne that would be beyond terrible at it.”

The older man shrugged and slumped back into the chair. “Well, mother won’t stop singing your praises, that’s for sure.” Another scoff. “She seems to think you’re a hero. Won’t stop regaling me with the highly fictionalized versions of your journey after-“ He hesitated briefly. “Phiphi destroyed Lotuserna.”

He rubbed a hand over his face. “Ugh, I’m sorry. I’m sure that’s not very fun for you.”

Sylvain bobbed his head back and forth. “Well, it’s fun to hear all the different versions, at least. How evil some stories make me sound, how heroic others make you sound. It’s also interesting to hear her opinions of Idania change from day to day.”

Alden shook his head and slumped back in the chair. “I wonder if they’ll ever get along.”

Sylvain looked to his brother and grinned with half his face. “There. That’s it.” Alden lifted his brow. “Seeking a diplomatic solution to every situation is paramount.”

“Just because I wish for my wife and my mother to like each other doesn’t mean I have the makings of Emperor.”

“It’s the little things. Little things inform larger things.” Sylvain reached a hand to slap his brother’s arm. “Remember when you couldn’t finish your dinner and the Ambassador ended up opening up food banks all over Lotuserna?”

Warmth spread from the small contact. “I was actually thinking about that earlier! But that was all you and Idania. All I did was have a tiny stomach. But it did make me think. Could I rely on you to be an advisor?  And Idania did manage to help all those refugees. And I have connections in other Constellations as well-“

Sylvain smirked. “Look at you being all Imperial.”

Alden shook his head. “You would know, I suppose.”

“I’m not saying I told you so…”

Laughter burbled between the two men, raspy and affectionate, and descended into coughs. After they calmed, Alden reached over to place a hand on his brother’s. “I appreciate it, Sylv. I know I shouldn’t ask this of you, but I can count on you for advice, can’t I?”

The first light of morning peaked through over the horizon and flooded the Grand Hall. Both men started at the sudden brightness, Sylvain closing his eyes. Ophiuchus’s darkness lingered and made his brother sensitive. “Here, we should get you back to your room.”

Sylvain waved a hand. “Shying away from it won’t make me any better. I haven’t seen a proper sunrise in Spirits know how long. I’ve missed it.” Those tired green eyes lifted to Alden’s. “And of course you can rely on my counsel. You’ll need at least one person to tell you when you’re being incredibly stupid.”

-

“Kelara?” The left door behind the dais creaked. Alden lifted his eyes to his wife, her hair a mess, eyes narrowed. “What are you doing in here?”

Warmth filled him again, a different one this kind, as his arm glowed a faint purple. “Kelara! I’m here with Sylvain, actually. Apparently neither of us could sleep.”

She padded across the floor and leaned over to smile at Sylvain. Sylvain attempted a full smile in response, but only half his face seemed to work. “Good morning, Master Sylvain. How are the other healers-”

He held up a hand. “Don’t get me started. For now, I’d just like to enjoy the sunrise.”

She straightened up a bit and looked to the windows. She nodded, understanding, and placed a hand on his shoulder. Her other hand stretched for Alden. He furrowed his brow, but he watched her hand glow on Sylvain’s shoulder. He felt more sure of his love every moment.

He shifted his weight and Sylvain winced, ready for the pain of the brightness again. When the pain did not come, he blinked and relaxed. Alden moved to his wife’s side and slipped his arms over her shoulders. She turned to beg a kiss, to which he obliged. Sylvain lifted a hand to hers on his shoulder. Both brothers muttered a quiet “thank you”.

[teriwrites]

The Blue Line

The morning on the Blue Line heading into downtown started as any other might. People piled onto the subway with tired eyes on their way to work and school. Those who couldn’t find seats in the crowded cars stood in any available space. The sound of incoming and outgoing trains filled the stations with an echoing howl.

Two men that had managed to find open seats were sat across from each other, each engrossed in different copies of the same newspaper. The cover displayed yet another image of the city’s current in-residence superhero, SuperDude. His defeat and capture of the elusive supervillain The Ghost had captivated the media. An article inside displayed the woman, Clara Morgenthal, glaring at the camera in her mug shots.

In response to the article, the older of the two gentlemen - old enough to draw concerned glances from nearby passengers with every bump along the tracks - broke the silence of the morning commute. “Bah! ‘The Golden Age of Superheroes’ fiddlesticks!”

The other man, who had in fact been reading the same article, brought his newspaper low enough to stare over at the ranting elder. He wasn’t far off being considered elderly himself, but he clung to his youth with lively eyes and hair that had yet to fully grey.

“I couldn’t agree more,” he said, and lowered the newspaper into his lap. “These kids running around today have no respect for the old decorum. The true golden age of superheroes ended decades ago.”

The first man rolled up his paper and slapped his knee with it. “See now, this young man understands! Back then, superheroes were professionals! They made no fuss about their victories, and identity meant something to them. Seeing them on the streets, or flying overhead - it filled people with awe. Now, all superheroes crave attention over justice. The casual demeanors with the public are damaging to the role of protector. There should be distance!”

Up until this point, the rest of the train had been purposely ignoring the old man like they would any stranger who disturbed the quiet. But just then, a fed up young woman rolled her eyes and swiveled around to face him.

“Superheroes back then were boring!” she argued. “They were all stuffy and arrogant. Nowadays, they’re helpful in more ways than just taking down villains.”

“Considering you weren’t alive to witness any of this, I’d suggest you keep out of it,” the younger of the men said coldly.

The young woman turned away with another roll of her eyes, and the subway - which had, for a moment, been caught up in watching the scene play out - fell back to silently hoping the elders’ stop was coming up soon.

“It’s not even a secret anymore!” the younger man exclaimed. “Everyone in the city knows that SuperDude is that young, rich man with houses in three different countries! He doesn’t even hide or try to deny it! Anyone with enough money can be a superhero nowadays.”

Their newspapers abandoned, the men spoke in raised tones, seemingly in agreement, for several minutes. At the next stop, the young woman left quickly, apparently grateful to leave the old men behind. Those still on the train, along with those who had just boarded, repressed sighs and rolled eyes at their dramatics. Sooner or later, the other passengers hoped, they’d run out of material to rant about. 

On the contrary, they reached a point of contention. The older of the men clapped his hand on his knee. “Now, take The Grey Sentinel! He was a fine superhero! Relentless, day and night, to protect this city! Before he came around, it was crawling with crime and villainy. He really took the burden off all who came after him!”

The younger of the two hesitated in his response. “Well, now, The Grey Sentinel did good work, but let’s not let him take all of the credit for the undoing of evil here! Don’t forget about how Peacebringer took down the ring of The Sapphire Skull! He was a powerful hero himself.”

The older man shrugged. “Sure, sure. Peacebringer got his moment in the spotlight. But The Grey Sentinel inspired hope in every citizen! Peacebringer couldn’t always do what needed to be done.”

“Let’s not pretend that The Grey Sentinel was without flaws, now,” the younger man said defensively, face flushing slightly red. “After the fiasco of endangering the mayor’s life - ”

“ - Fiasco?” the older man demanded. “Perhaps if the mayor hadn’t been rescued, it could be called a fiasco.”

“I hardly consider it a rescue if the one doing the saving was the one who created the situation in the first place.” The younger man’s voice was cold.

“Even so,” the older man snapped, “to consider Peacebringer our finest hero! Why, I’d be embarrassed if that were the case! Peacebringer was little more than a child in a costume, his head filled with nonsense ideals that were completely unrealistic.”

“Far better to strive for too much than too little!” the younger retorted.

The heated argument continued for another couple of stops. And though they did their best to ignore the fight, it soon became apparent to all on the Blue Line except the men themselves that they were sharing a ride with two proud and retired superheroes trying to protect their reputations.

‘Various Vignettes’ Tag List:

@booksnotbookies

Feel free to ask to be added/removed from the tag list!

[sebastianshaw]

I meant to write a bigger post on this and never got around to it and have just been reminded of it Okay, so in the 80s we’re shown there are two levels to the Hellfire Club. The first one is the public face, that of a very elite social club for extremely wealthy people. That’s it, they’re just like a REALLY big country club for the super-rich, you can either earn membership through becoming obscenely wealthy or inherit it from a parent who had it. That’s the only stipulation, it’s emphasized they’re simultaneously elite and egalitarian in this regard. And what we see of it is exactly what you’d expect, a bunch of balls and galas and really stuffy boring rich people. This is what most members are, and they’re pretty much all normal civilians. Super-rich normal civilians, but like, still regular people. I’m sure some of them are even very nice people, probably a lot of sweet little old lady philanthropists and whatall. At worst, heartless billionaires, but still not “bad guys” in the comic book sense. IIRC, Tony Stark is one of the regular hereditary members, as is Norman Osborne and probably a few other big-name characters who also happen to be super-rich, and they’re not involved in any of the villainous goings-on and in fact probably don’t know about it. The second level is the Inner Circle, also known as the Lords Cardinal. That’s the Black King, the White Queen, all of that. There’s an Inner Circle per major branch (and four major branches, though tons of smaller ones worldwide) and they all answer to the Lord Imperial, who oversees them all (when writers remember that’s a thing, which is not often) The Inner Circles are basically what people in the real world think the Illuminati are, they’re super DUPER uber rich people who aim to control the world through the shadows via subtle longterm economic and political influence. The Manhattan Branch Inner Circle became mostly mutant after a coup led by Shaw and Emma, but this is not publically known either. The world at large does NOT know about this secret side of the Hellfire Club, nor do its ordinary members. They understand Shaw is in charge of running the Manhattan branch and he’s an important person, but that’s it, they don’t know he’s a supervillain or a mutant or any of that shit. Hell, Shaw actually used to CALL THE POLICE on the X-Men when they crashed the Club, I’m not making that up (I miss those days, that was just hilarious to me) and they came because hey, name aside, the Hellfire Club is a bunch of very respectable rich people, the goddamn mayor is probably there, no wonder those rotten muties targeted them! But there’s also another level in-between these, something that was only HINTED at in the 80s and 90s, but became more blatant in the 2000s---the BDSM sex club aspect. It seems to be something available to normal members, but at the same time I doubt all of them know about it. While surely tons of rich people are Eyes Wide Shut types, not EVERY wealthy person is going to be into that shit, and in fact plenty are bound to be really scandalized by it, and I imagine the Hellfire Club would like to avoid offending its more conservative clientele. So I imagine that after a person gets into the “normal” level, they’re lowkey vetted to see if they’d be a good fit to invite into the “darker” side of things. Like there’s probably people who talk to them and try to get a vibe for “is this elderly well-mannered heiresss the type who might be into wearing a spiked leather dog collar or nah and is it safe to ask her” sort of thing. It might also be the kind of thing where like, you have to specially request the privilege, which is supported by the fact that an initiation rite into this aspect specifically is shown in the London Branch, which wouldn’t be needed if being a regular member just automatically got you into the sex dungeon.  So basically, the uber rich posh people are the public face, and they probably don’t know there’s anything else. The next level of “in the know” are the ones among the first group who are still normal members, not mutants or supervillains or anything, but do get to get in on the kinky stuff. And then finally we got the “super secret supervillain” Inner Circle that no one knows is bad guys or mutants, and are usually rich public figures (corporation owners, etc) who are just seen as like, club chairpersons and representatives by the normal members/public. Hope that made sense!

[noisydreamlandkoala]

@daminette-december2019-2020

Day 3: Legend

Long ago two nations rised. One was called the league of assassins the other was the order of the guardians. Both nations hated each other instantly even if their intentions were not so different.

The league of assassins aimed to rid the world of bad people through means of assassinating them. The leader also aimed to have a power of sort. He wanted ultimate power in short he wanted to rule the world, control the people.

The order of the guardians aimed to get rid of negative emotions from the world. But they used the God of distraction to get rid of it. They too aimed to control the people.

So in short thought both nations aimed to do good they were toxic environments to live in.

Fluff the goddess of time itself had seen the future and told both nations a legend.

'Legend has it two soulmates, yin and yang will be born into both nations separately. They shall fall helplessly in love and this will either join the two nations to one making them stronger and more powerful than ever or completely destroy them. We can not be certain for the future is not set in stone'

Ra's looked at this oracle once again growling. To think that his nation may fall because of love. Disgusting.

The guardians on the other hand were panicking. How the heck were they to know what these soulmates would do to their nation.

Years later two children were born into the nations both complete opposites of each other.

Damian was born into the league of assassin's. He was also trained as one. He was a little demon. He has always had a dark aura around him. He was cold and to most rude.

Marinette was born into the order of guardians. She was a little angel. Trained by the God's themselves. She had always had a light carefree aura surrounding her. She was known to be a little ray of sunshine. Warm and nice to everyone she met.

Both children complete opposites with the same destiny. To one day lead the nations.

Funny enough both nations soon fell. For the assassins it was thanks to Lady shiva. For the guardians it was thanks to an incompetent guardian.

Both future leaders managed to escape death. While most weren't so lucky.

Time skip

Marinette's POV

I'm Marinette just a normal girl with a normal life. Well maybe not that normal if you've been disowned by your adoptive parents and adopted by a rockstar. On to of that you stay with the mayors daughter when your new adoptive parents are on tour.

Not that normal if you are the most hated person in Paris at the same time most loved. If your a superhero that saves everyone's lives everyday. If you are like the God of God's themselves.

Of your secretly princess of the guardians and are expected to lead soon but you want nothing to do with them.

I decided that they was too much stress in Paris and took up uncle Jagged's offer to go to the Wayne gala. I know I still call him my uncle even if he adopted me. But he's cool with it.

I'm currently in a limo heading to the gala praying to the God's that they is no akuma attack.

Damian's POV

I'm currently getting ready for another one of Father's galas. Who knew that Batman the I am the night guy help galas and made small talk with stuffy, full of themselves rich people.

Time skip

The gala has been going on for quite awhile now and I feel completely miserable so I go to the balcony to breathe to find someone already there and it's a girl.

'great🙄'

Marinette's POV

The gala was becoming to much do I go to the balcony to breathe. A few minutes later I hear someone approaching. I sigh turning around to be met by forest green eyes.

3rd person POV

Two soulmates stand staring at each other in the balcony during a gala. Two soulmates meet for the very first time. The legend resists itself in their heads.

"I'm Damian Wayne" Damian introduces himself to his soulmate.

"Marinette Stone" Marinette says.

Both still staring at each other.

"Wanna dance" he asks and of course she agrees.

Time skip

2 years later

Two soulmates stand in the middle of two destroyed nations. Having used Plagg to completely destroy them but avoid killing. They watched as long set the now empty nations ablaze.

They smiled having fulfilled their destiny. This way the Legend after all.

[omgjasminesimone]

66 from the winter prompt with hunter x mc? ;u;

66 from these prompts. Thanks for the request! Now I finally get to write a Hunter x MC modern AU!

Julia nervously knocks on Hunter’s door, wondering if she should be here. She’d almost been turned away by the doorman, but then he remembered her from Hunter’s Christmas party, and assumed she was a friend of his so he’d let her up to his penthouse. 

But she and Hunter aren’t friends, not really. They’ve known each other forever, both growing up in the close knit Capital City of Cordonia, a small Mediterranean country. They’d gone to the same schools, been in many of the same classes,  but there was always a gulf between them.

Hunter was rich and popular, a star on the football team, well liked by teachers and students alike, and he threw all the best parties. Julia was an orphan, who’s best friend Annalisa eventually convinced her parents to adopt, but no one besides her sister really looked at her as a true Rosario. She was quiet, and shy. People only talked to her when they wanted to copy her homework. She played flute in the marching band, staring after Hunter like a lovesick puppy, but he didn’t even know she existed. 

Hunter’s father was the president of Cordonia for almost 16 years. He only stepped down when term limits were instituted. And he’d then become a top political advisor, many said he was still the one truly running the country. 

But now Damon Fierro was retiring, and he was grooming Hunter to be the next president. 

It didn’t really seem like something Hunter truly wanted to do, but the other candidate was Cyrus Vescovi who everyone knew would run the country into the ground, so Hunter agreed to run. 

This pushed them back into the same orbit. Julia works for the mayor as his campaign coordinator. The mayor had endorsed the Fierro campaign, so anytime Hunter threw a fundraiser, or a watch party, or a Christmas party, the mayor and Julia were invited. 

That Christmas party, and the mistletoe, is why Julia is now standing outside Hunter’s door with a thermos of her great grandmother’s tomato soup. 

There’s several moments of silence, and Julia is contemplating knocking again, when the door swings open. 

“Julia, what a pleasant surprise.” Hunter says with a smile. He looks very ill. Nose red and stuffy, blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Julia feels even worse about her likely role in his current ailment. 

“Hey Hunter, I heard you were sick, so I brought you some soup.”

Hunter takes the thermos, unscrewing the lid and sniffing at it. “This smells amazing. Thank you Julia, you shouldn’t have.”

“Well, I think I’m the one that got you sick, so I definitely should.” Julia admits, the guilt eating away at her. 

She was just getting over a flu when she got the invite for Hunter’s party. she couldn’t miss it. She’d never pass up an opportunity to be in Hunter’s presence. Plus, she was feeling better. She was pretty sure she wasn’t even contagious. 

So Julia had thrown on her best green dress, and some make-up, and made her way to the party. 

And when she and the mayor had been discussing the 2020 re-election campaign, and Hunter had joined them, making his rounds of the room, when the mayor pointed out that Hunter and Julia were under the mistletoe, she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to finally feel Hunter’s lips on her’s. She’d wanted this since third grade! And she didn’t feel sick. It was only going to be a peck. 

“I’m not one to ignore tradition.” Hunter said with a smile, after the two looked up and saw they were indeed directly below the mistletoe. And then he’d leaned down, and she’d leaned up, and for three blissful seconds she was kissing Hunter Fierro. 

He pulled away, smiling at her again, and she had hoped her face wasn’t as red as her hair. “Merry Christmas Julia.”

Julia sighs as she takes in Hunter’s current disheveled appearance. Apparently, a peck is sufficient to spread the flu. “You remember the mistletoe at your Christmas party?”

Hunter nods. “That’s not something I would forget.” He says flirtatiously. Julia blushes, and then reminds herself of Hunter’s reputation. He’d flirt with anything in a skirt. 

“Well, I was just getting over the flu, and I think I must have passed it on to you. I’m so sorry! The soup is an apology present.”

“Apology accepted. A bout of the flu is a small price to pay for a kiss from Julia Rosario. I’ve been wanting to kiss you since at least sophomore year.”

Why does he have to say stuff like that and somehow look so hot, as in attractive, although his temperature probably is high as well?! He’s definitely lying though. She didn’t even know how to do her make-up in high school, and Hunter could, and did, have every girl he wanted. 

She needs to get out of here, before she does something stupid. Like declare her undying love to him. “Well, I’ll let you get some sleep.” She says, turning to leave after offering him one last apologetic smile.

“Wait! So, you’ve already had this strain of the flu? I can’t get you sick again?” Hunter questions when she turns back to look at him. 

“I don’t think so.”

“Then, would you like to watch a movie with me? I was just about to put on The Christmas Prince.”

Julia fully turns to face him now. “You were not.”

Hunter raises a brow. “What? I’m not allowed to like cheesy netflix Christmas movies?”

“I’d definitely pegged you as more of a action Matt Rodriguez movie type.” 

“Then maybe you should get to know me better Julia. Because I absolutely hate Matt Rodriguez movies.” 

Julia laughs, and Hunter smiles, opening the door wider and inviting her in once again with a tilt of his head. After a moment of hesitation, Julia walks through the door. 

Three Christmas movies later, an empty thermos sits on his coffee table and Hunter’s head rests in Julia’s lap. He’s out cold, trying to sleep off his sickness. 

Julia tries to free herself without waking him, slowly transferring his head to a pillow. She’s almost free when his hand suddenly reaches out, gripping her hand and pulling her flush against him on the couch. 

“Stay. That’s an order from your future president.” He murmurs, voice raspy from sleep. 

‘That sounds like an abuse of power.” She teases, fingers mussing his dark hair.

“Only if you didn’t actually want to stay here with me Julia. Plus, since you got me sick, shouldn’t you stay and take care of me?”

His logic is sound, so she stays. 

[mariequitecontrarie]

All of Me: Chapter 16

The Fic: Belle French is a pudgy librarian who’s in love from afar with “town monster” and ace reporter, Mr. Gold. Little does she know, he’s head-over-heels in love with her, too. Chapter Summary: Belle and Emma go shopping in Portland to prepare for a big night out with Gold and Neal at the Storybrooke Winter Gala. Emma runs into an old high school rival and shares a secret. Rating: T A/N: Guys, it’s been 84 years! Much love to @galactic-pirates and @magnoliatattoo for putting up with me. Artwork by the talented @wizzygold @a-monthly-rumbelling: “I’m not dressed for this.”

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | 

Stay with Me (bet. Ch 9&10) | Spiked Chocolate (bet. Ch 16&17) | Pieces of Me (Q&A)

ON AO3

“The quickest way to know a woman is to go shopping with her.” - Marcelene Cox

***Three weeks after Belle has moved out of her parents’ house and into Marco’ s.***

Belle picked up the telephone to call Gold at the newspaper, her day planner spread open on the desk.

Yes, it was old-fashioned, writing things down on a calendar and lugging the thick planner around in her bag, but she liked old-fashioned. She liked books, and fountain pens, and the rustle of paper—both crisply new and faded with age. Besides, she didn’t trust iPhone calendar apps.

She’d forgotten Daddy and Edith’s anniversary one too many times thanks to those finicky electronic calendars. Whenever it happened, she rushed to write a card at the last minute but instead of being grateful, Edith seemed to enjoy shaming her for “neglecting her family.” Personally, Belle felt anniversaries were about the couple celebrating each other…but her thoughts were veering way off course. If she ventured down the dark road of worrying over Edith, she could end up in bed with a box of snowball cakes for the rest of the day.

But falling into depression was less likely now that she no longer called her father and Edith’s house home. After three weeks of living with Marco, there was no denying how much better she felt; the freedom of coming and going as she pleased was a heady sensation. Sometimes Gold joined her at Marco’s house in the evening and the three of them played Scrabble together. Once, she had insisted Marco not cook dinner after cooking at the restaurant all day long and dragged him to Emma’s house for a family dinner where Henry chattered about school and his friends and made everyone laugh until their sides ached. 

But most often, Marco would come home from the restaurant and the two of them would eat a pasta and salad dinner, and then spend the evening in the comfortable quiet of his small, cozy living room. His overstuffed couch and chairs were such a contrast to the hard, slick leather furniture Edith filled her house with, and Belle loved sinking into the corner of Marco’s huge couch and covering up with a fluffy throw blanket.

Sometimes they would make small talk about their days but on most evenings, Marco would be bent over a notebook making notes for the next day’s specials at the restaurant, and she would pull out her laptop to research books to add to the library. Usually, either the Cooking Channel or HGTV played in the background. She’d had an older television in her bedroom at her parents’ but no cable connection. Marco, however, had a new flatscreen and Belle indulged in her love of watching House Hunters International, which combined two of her favorite pastimes: seeing home interiors and a peek at exotic destinations.

Gone were the days of being chased into her bedroom, hiding her diary, and hoarding snacks. Some days, the years spent in Edith and her dad’s frosty household seemed like a bad dream. 

At least twice a week, Belle offered to pay Marco rent. It didn’t seem right to eat his food and live in his space and offer nothing in return. But he refused every time she asked. “No,” he had said this morning over breakfast, flipping eggs with a stubborn twist of his lips. “We are family, Bella. La famiglia. And when life is hard, family is a soft place to land.” Her eyes had burned with grateful tears, but she kissed his cheek and ate her breakfast and let him fuss over her until they went their separate ways—he to the restaurant and her to the library.

Besides, she thought as she punched in Gold’s number, she didn’t have time for wallowing.

She needed to talk to Gold about the annual Storybrooke Winter Gala today. On impulse, Neal had bought four tickets and insisted he and Emma and Belle and Gold make a double date of the occasion. He’d even arranged for their next-door neighbor, Ana, to watch Henry.

Every December, the Mayor’s Office hosted the gala to benefit the city schools. This year, all proceeds would go toward school Arts programs—music, theatre, writing, and art workshops. Emma and Gold usually attended every year, Gold to cover the event for the Times and Emma to capture photographs to accompany the story. Belle had never been invited to the ball before, though, and she wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Part of her didn’t want to be seen in public with so many shiny glossy people she couldn’t measure up to, but another side of her was excited to play princess for an evening.

She glanced again at the date and punched in Gold’s phone number. Today was Friday, November 16th. Thanksgiving was next week, which meant the gala was only three weeks away. There wasn’t much time to get ready. Finding a dress could be difficult and she would probably need to take it to a tailor, too. The thought of shopping for formalwear made her palms begin to sweat.

“Gold,” he answered on the first ring.

“What are you wearing?” she asked in a rush, followed by a breathless pause.

He answered with a laugh, the deep, rich sound making her spine tingle. She imagined him setting down the newspaper proof he was holding to turn in his chair to peer out the window toward the library. Since her office was in the back of the building he couldn’t actually see her, but she felt the admiring burn of his eyes all the same.

She heard a rustling sound as he set down the pages. When they talked or spent time together, he always gave her his full attention. It was certainly a refreshing change from Sean distractedly glancing at her during one of his marathon video game sessions and asking her to repeat what she’d said for the third time.

“A naughty call in the middle of the workday?” Gold drawled into the phone. “Sweetheart, men dream of these sorts of calls from their girlfriends. It’s not even my birthday.”

Belle blushed. She hadn’t stopped to think how awkward the question would sound out of context, but now that it was out, she teased him right back. “Mmmm nothing naughty to say today but just wait till it is your birthday,” she said. “Now that you mention it…”

“Yes?” He drew out the word, filling it with expectation and making her giggle.

She could almost see him leaning forward across the desk, a mischievous gleam in those caramel eyes.

“When is your birthday?”

“January 14th,” he answered promptly. “And tell Marco I prefer ice cream cake.”

“You prefer every cake,” she shot back, smiling into the phone. When it came to baked goods, Gold had an enormous sweet tooth. “But I think it can be arranged.”

“That’s excellent news. Just don’t tell Marco how many candles to put on it because the thing will be melted before we have a chance to slice it.”

Belle knew he was still self-conscious about the difference in their ages. She also knew exactly how to soothe him when he worried. “Then it’s a good thing I prefer mature men.”

“Indeed,” he said, sounding pleased.

She flipped her planner forward and marked his birthday on the calendar in bold, red ink, surrounding the date with fat, bright hearts. The birthday of the man she loved was an important day—far more worth remembering than the wedding date of her stuffy stepmother and emotionally unavailable father. At least she knew Marco wouldn’t snoop through her things and read her planner or her diary. But she was digressing again.

“Now, back to my question,” she ordered, feigning sternness. 

“You have my full attention, General French.”

She laughed and rubbed the thick holiday gala invitation between her fingers. Its embossed gold lettering and sprigs of holly in metallic ink screamed expensive. Everyone knew the Storybrooke Winter Gala was the social event of the season. From the chilled seafood towers bursting with crab claws and lobster tails to the elegant champagne cocktails, no expense would be spared.

Belle fanned her warm cheeks with the cardstock, her clammy fingers leaving damp smudges at the top of the matte stationery. “The invite says formal attire, but you’re almost always formal. Were you thinking suit or tuxedo?”

 “At the moment, I’m in my usual. I did opt for the socks with the turkeys today as a nod to next Thursday.”

Belle giggled and dragged her teeth over her lower lip. His Thanksgiving socks were adorable and he was being terribly sweet in his attempts to put her at ease. She wanted to go to the gala, but she didn’t want to look like a country bumpkin who had never been anywhere. Gold had attended fancy dinners and parties all over the world. He’d been to a State Dinner with the President, for goodness sake, while Belle had never ventured beyond the Portland city limits. “You know what I mean. It’s not like we can show up in sweatpants and be all ‘sorry, I’m not dressed for this.’” Oh, how she wished.

“Sweetheart, you can wear anything you like. You’re gorgeous no matter what you have on. That said, I’m not really the proper person to offer advice on evening gown selections. Why don’t you talk to Emma?”

She sighed. “Honey, I have talked to Emma. We’re both going shopping and we both need to know. It’s not like we can ask Neal for guidance.” Exasperated, she pushed a curl off her forehead, wondering why she had to explain this. “You know what he’s like. Emma said, ‘Neal would dust corn chips off his construction clothes, zip a hoodie sweatshirt over it, and head out the door.’ That’s a direct quote, by the way.”

Gold burst out laughing. “Sounds like my boy. I’ll make sure he’s dressed appropriately.”

“Anyway,” she continued, “there’s not much of a boutique circuit here in Storybrooke and I’m not exactly a candidate for Rent the Runway.” She sucked in the inside of her cheek as soon as those last words were out. Since they’d started dating, she’d been making a concerted effort not to say self-deprecating things about herself. At least not out loud.

Gold hadn’t seemed to notice her negativity, though.

“Which would you prefer I wear? Tux or suit?”

The image of whirling on the dance floor with Gold in a sleek black tuxedo was doing crazy things to her insides. “Tux,” she said in a breathless whisper. “Tux sounds good.”

“Tux it shall be then. And Belle?”

“Yes?” She was still picturing Gold in black tie and her stomach was doing gymnastics.

“Love,  I meant what I said: you’re gorgeous no matter what you wear. We’re going to the gala so we can dance and eat shrimp cocktail and support the Arts, not so you’ll worry over competing with silly girls and stupid women who wouldn’t know true beauty if it ran over them with a sleigh.”

“I wish you and Emma and Neal were going to be the only ones there,” she murmured, feeling silly. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t known about the gala and been given every opportunity to decide against going. The event had been on the calendar for weeks, yet the closer it came the more she fretted about fitting in. An inexplicable craving for belonging tightened her chest.

Gold hummed into the phone. “This is about more than a dress, isn’t it, sweetheart?”

She closed her eyes and took a deep, slow breath, letting the weight of his understanding settle over her like a comforting mantle. Her head lolled forward until her forehead rested upon the top of her desk. The smooth, cool grain of the wood felt good against her flushed skin and she forced out another lungful of air. Gold didn’t deserve to be at the wrong end of her short fuse. She tried to tell herself she belonged at the gala because he’d invited her, but the heart didn’t always believe the head—no matter how sensible the head was being.

“It matters to me that I at least look like I belong, even if it isn’t true,” she admitted.

Gold was quiet for a long moment. “It is true, sweetheart. For as long as I draw breath, you will always have a place to belong. If Marco, Emma, Neal, and Henry were here, I know each of them would say the same. I also know it’s going to take more than hearing the words to make you believe it. You have to know the truth deep down. I love you so much, and I only hope and pray that one day you’ll see yourself the way we see you.”

Belle pressed her lips together, muffling a sob. “Thank you for understanding,” she whispered tearfully. “I love you.”

“It’s nearly five. I’m coming over to the library.” Through the phone, she heard the distinctive click of his pocket watch as he snapped it closed. “When I get there, I’m going to kiss you till you’re breathless, then take you out for a nice, quiet dinner, just the two of us. How does that sound?”

Belle smiled and wiped her tears and her worries away with a tissue from the box on her desk. “It sounds perfect.”

“So we’re here.” Emma sucked down the dregs of her iced latte in a noisy slurp and wiped her hands on her black jeans. “Portland. Boutique Row. What do we do now?” She tossed the cup in the trash can inside the door.

Like aliens on a foreign planet, they hovered inside the doorway of Posh, the largest formal boutique in the city.

Belle eyed Emma suspiciously. “I thought you said you knew about shopping.”

“Yeah, for denim and dry fit. Where to get the best doughnuts. And the occasional piece of leather. Not evening gowns.”

“But you’ve been to this gala before?” she pressed.

“Yeah, as the photographer. No one pays attention to what you’re wearing when you’re behind the camera. I got away with black pants and a dress shirt three years running.”

Belle looked her friend up and down. Perspiration was dotting Emma’s temples. Her cheeks, ruddy from the winter air outside just moments ago, were ashen. She knew that deer-in-headlights look: Emma was on the verge of an anxiety attack.

Belle ran her teeth over her lower lip, discouragement slithering around her and squeezing the air from her lungs. “Are we in trouble?”

“It’s possible,” Emma acknowledged, then shook her head hard enough to cause her ponytail to sway. “No. No! We’re two grown women. We can handle one small town formal.”

“You make it sound like war,” Belle said wryly.

“It’s worse. Other women. Rich, polished, cold as ice.” She rolled her eyes at a chic blonde dripping in Chanel and carrying a Louis Vuitton handbag bigger than Belle’s suitcase. “Maybe we should invest in suits of armor.”

“Or maybe we should eat them for supper.”

Emma snorted, their laughter breaking the tension. It was rare for Emma to be intimidated, and Belle patted her shoulder. Misery loved company, and somehow knowing she wasn’t alone in her insecurity gave her hope for more than the hunt for an evening gown. “We can do this, as long as we do it together.”

Emma’s reached for Belle’s hand and squeezed. “Right. Together is better.”

”Exactly.”

Emma gave a long, slow whistle and they moved into the store like two people tied together in a three-legged race. “Where should we start?” Belle stared at the array of gowns and began to shuffle through the racks, heading in the direction of the plus sizes. She’d come here expecting to have maybe two choices in style but after a few minutes of browsing, to her surprise, there were many gowns in her size—short and long, tight and flowing, beaded and glittery. And though she hadn’t tried on a solitary dress, she was still convinced there wasn’t one in all of Portland designed to flatter her physique. In one fell swoop, she’d gone from zero choices to too many. So many dresses, so little time, and so much Belle.

Even the eggnog lattes and cream-stuffed doughnuts she and Emma had feasted on in the car on the way here left her feeling hollow. She was at her worst at formal events—the last one she’d been to was her high school senior prom and not one person had asked her to dance. She’d gone stag simply so she didn’t have to sit in the house with her father and Edith. With the exception of going to the refreshment table to sneak brownies, she had sat in the corner the entire time.

But she wasn’t in high school any longer. She had a handsome escort in Gold and friends to spend the evening with. The steeply priced gala tickets had already been purchased and paid for and supporting the Arts in their schools? She couldn’t think of a more excellent cause. Besides, backing out three weeks before the event was paramount to announcing you had no interest in seeing Hamilton. It simply wasn’t done.

She squinted in the direction of the lingerie. Spanx were what she needed—something to suck her in and smooth her out—injected with industrial-strength elastic.

“Black. Black is the slimming choice,” Belle decided aloud, pushing through the rack toward a plain A-line silk sheath gown.

At least if she stuck to basic black, she and Gold would match. Like two penguins. One sleek and sophisticated, the other round and plump, carrying a lot of blubber around to make it through the hard, cold, South Pole winter.

“No black! Black is the safe choice,” Emma countered, smacking Belle’s hand when she reached for the hanger on another simple, nondescript black gown with clean lines.

“And that’s bad why?”

“Because it’s drab and washes you out. Go for color. Like gold.”

“Suddenly you’re a Pantone expert?” Belle winced. “A gold dress? Isn’t that a touch…cliché?”

“Alright. We’ll keep looking.”

Belle nudged Emma in the direction of a tall, willow-thin woman with striking black and grey hair and the pointiest red stilettos she’d ever seen. “Maybe we should ask someone. I think she works here.”

Emma squinted and slid more dresses down the rack. “The one with the scarf on?”

“It’s a poncho.” She knew that much.

“Wait! Wait! Try this emerald one! Gold will go crazy when he sees you in this!” Emma whipped a dazzling, jewel-toned gown with a daring thigh-high slit off the rack. Belle stared at the stunning gown then glanced back at the saleswoman. “Five minutes ago you didn’t know anything about dresses.” “You’re right, I don’t. But I know my father-in-law and he’s going to love that dress. Well, he’d love you in a life-sized paper bag, but this dress will make even Mr. Smart Ass Newspaper Dude speechless. God, I can picture him drooling already!” She thrust the dress into Belle’s arms and gave her a playful shove. “Go try it on. And remember, the only person who has to know how beautiful you are…”

“Is me,” Belle finished. They’d had this conversation often during their walks over the past few months, and Emma had reminded her yet again on the two-hour drive here. She fingered the rich velvet skirt with trembling fingers. Now she had to walk the walk. “I’ll try it. What color are you looking for?” she asked, backing into the fitting room.

“Black.” “Emma!” she whined.

Emma yanked the fitting room curtain closed with a laugh. The dress was crushed velvet with full-length sleeves, hard to find, even in the middle of a brutal Maine winter. She slid into the gown, the silk-lined velvet feeling decadent against her skin. Even without the back completely zipped, she liked the look. Emma was right, she realized, turning this way and that in the three-way mirror.

The scoop neck hugged her shoulder blades, emphasizing her thinnest feature—her shoulders—and the color made her blue eyes sparkle and skin creamy even under the garish fluorescent fitting room lights. It was a few inches too long for her 5-foot, 1-inch frame, but the skirt length was easily remedied at a tailor. Not hating it, she took a deep breath, lifted the skirt so she wouldn’t trip, and opened the curtain. She hoped Emma was nearby because she didn’t want to make a spectacle of herself. Those stupid little fitting room closets were designed to thrust you back out onto the floor where commission-hungry salespeople could tell you how good you looked and convince you to buy.

“Em,” she called out, “could you zip—” She swallowed the rest of her words. Emma was face-to-face with a dark-haired woman, and looking even more nervous than she had when they walked into the boutique. “Emma? Emma Nolan?” The stranger wore a smart navy pantsuit and a light blue silk blouse, and her blood-red lips spread in a wide smile. Everything about her, from her perfectly coifed hair to her buffed, nude pumps, screamed suave and important.

“Yeah, who’s asking?” “It’s me, Regina Mills. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten. We graduated together from Storybrooke High! I sat next to you in Mr. Walsh’s English class.” “Oh, hey.” Emma kicked the carpet with her boot, looking anything but thrilled to meet an old high school friend. “Good to see you. You remember Belle French, I’m sure. She graduated the year after us.” Regina frowned at Belle, making a small scar on her upper lip stand out. “Sorry, doesn’t ring a...bell.” “It’s fine. We didn’t really travel in the same social circles anyway,” Belle said.  Regina pouted, as if trying to decide if Belle’s remark was a put-down.

Well, she could interpret the comment however she wished. Belle didn’t care for the change that had come over Emma since Regina had appeared or the barely-veiled insult that she wasn’t worth remembering. Now that she’d had a good look at her, she remembered Regina well enough. Then again, it was hard to forget the most popular girl to ever come out of Storybrooke High School. Student body president, prom queen, and girlfriend of Daniel Colter, captain of the football team. Belle would have called her a high school cliché, except that Regina had carried her smooth, flawless reputation into adulthood. She was still the most beautiful woman Belle had ever seen close-up.  “I’m just in town for meetings today. I’m an attorney and planning to run for office next term.” Regina’s frozen smile was back in business. “I’m thinking start small with state Senate and work up from there. So, Emma, what have you been up to since graduation? I haven’t seen you since we walked across the stage.” “Um, well.” Emma shoved her hands in her pockets and looked toward the racks of dresses. “Emma is a gifted photographer,” Belle said, sliding to her friend’s side. If Emma wasn’t going to boast about her accomplishments, she sure as hell was going to do it for her. “How exciting!” Regina’s grin was wolfish, her dark eyes sparkling. “Are you exhibiting your portraits at any galleries?” “Uh…” Emma looked at the floor. “No time,” Belle put in. “Right, Em? You’re much too busy with your son, Henry and your husband, Neal.” “Oooh, a husband.” Regina’s eyes flashed again, reminding Belle of a shark circling its prey. “Is he a doctor?” “Nope.” “Hmmm.” She tapped a red nail against her jaw. “A lawyer then?” “He’s in construction,” Emma said, looking to Belle for help. “For your information, he runs his own construction company. He’s built most of Storybrooke’s new buildings in the last ten years.” Belle glared at Regina, daring her to make another cutting remark. “So he’s a working man,” she said, managing to make the term sound neither positive nor negative. “Yeah. Yeah. He’s great.” Emma’s laugh was feeble and she ducked her head.  Regina clapped her hands. “This has been fun, catching up. We should do this again sometime.” She flashed another gorgeous, winning smile, and moved in the direction of the lingerie. “Best of luck on the campaign trail,” Belle called after her. Waiting until Regina was out of earshot, Belle whirled on Emma. “Excuse me, but what the hell was that?”

“Never mind. We have shopping to do.” Emma cleared her throat and tried to slide past her, but Belle held her ground.

“The shopping can wait. Who died and crowned Regina Mills queen?”

Belle had zero patience for people who clambered for social standing and pronounced themselves better than others. Having been so often on the receiving end of other people’s sarcasm, Belle rarely talked down to people. But standing up to bullies didn’t count. Something about watching Emma cower in front of Regina caused an angry fire to blaze in her belly. Maybe she was lousy at defending herself, but she’d be damned if she’d let anyone walk all over her friend. Emma shrugged and studied the dresses. She was pretending not to care about the awkward encounter, but Belle knew better. “I don’t like small talk. ‘Hi. How are you?’ she parroted. ‘Oh, I’m fine, how are you?’ News flash: nobody’s fine.”

“Em…”

“No matter how she makes it sound, Regina and I weren’t friends in high school, we were competitors.” She rolled her eyes. “She reminisces about Mr. Walsh’s English class like that was the only time we saw each other. I guess she forgot about the four years we spent one-upping each other on the cheerleading squad, softball team, and the debate team. Always trying to be smarter, stronger, and skinnier than the other. We were out for blood.”

“Then why are you letting her get under your skin?”

Emma sighed and pulled on her ponytail. “You know Cora Mills?”

“Cora Mills, the mayor? Of course.” Belle suppressed a shudder.

Regina’s mother, Cora, had been mayor of Storybrooke for as long as Belle could remember. Cora was a cold, calculating woman, but what she lacked in lovable qualities, she made up for in efficiency. She ran Storybrooke like a machine and no one could argue with her methods, not even Gold, who was paid to search out everything. From the few times Belle had met her, she realized Cora wasn’t mean so much as devoid of emotion.  Beyond a perfunctory review of the library budget once a year, Belle was fortunate to rarely communicate with the Mayor’s Office and even when she did, it was strictly emails between Belle and Cora’s assistant. The library and its services were beneath Cora’s notice; so long as Belle didn’t ask for too much money, she stayed under her radar—which was exactly the way she liked it.

Emma wandered to a bench next to the row of fitting rooms and plopped down. “My mom always wanted to be like her, you know.”

“Really?” Belle would never have expected sweet, kind Mary Margaret Nolan to want to emulate Cora Mills.

Emma smirked. “Once, a long time ago, Mom even tried bidding against her for Mayor but she was too nice. She was laughed out of the first debate, and it’s a good thing because the town would have walked all over her. Since Mom couldn’t be like Cora, she decided the next best thing would be for me to be like Cora’s daughter, Regina. I spent every day of high school trying to beat Regina for one reason: because my mom couldn’t beat hers.”

“Wow,” Belle said. “I would never have known. Your mom is such a great teacher and your parents are like a fairytale marriage. Talk about relationship goals.”

“Exactly. The thing with my mom is she’s incredible just as she is,” she said. “Former prom queen, straight-A student, a born teacher. She’s smart and pretty and married to the perfect, charming husband. And she loves Storybrooke—but not for me.”

“But your parents live in Storybrooke.” Confused, Belle furrowed her brow. “That seems like a bit of a double-standard.”

“Yeah.” Emma shook her head. “’Why do you want to take pictures of engaged couples and local pet adoptions?’ she said, mimicking her mother’s innocent tone. “She would rather I was out on the front lines of some war documenting the dying.” “Like Gold used to?” Belle nodded in sympathy and claimed the empty side of the bench. She knew all too well the feeling of being expected to be someone you couldn’t be and dashing parental hopes in the process. “She feels like you shouldn’t be satisfied with a simple life.” “Bingo! And she resents the hell out of Gold for telling me what it’s really like out there. I think that’s why I’m closer to him now than I am my own parents. He understands weakness and failure in a way I don’t think they can. I’m not some conceited little bitch who’s hiding in the bathroom to throw up everything she eats to fit in anymore, but sometimes that really sucks, you know?”

“Yeah, I do.” Belle’s heart clenched in sympathy. Sometimes she still got sucked into the vortex of her own self-pity and forgot that everyone—even gorgeous, wonderful Emma—was fighting a battle. Trying to be yourself was hard work. It was so much easier to toe the line of people’s expectations, to do and say what made others feel comfortable and safe. “So there’s Regina, first conquering the state of Maine, then the world.” Emma put her head in her hands. “And here I am...not running for a spot even on the PTO. Married with a kid and pregnant again.” “You’re pregnant?” Belle slung an arm around Emma and dragged her against her side in an awkward hug. “Oh, sweetie, that’s amazing!” “Ya think? Emma sniffled but looked hopeful for the first time since they had entered the boutique. “Really? I wasn’t expecting another baby. It just happened.”

“Henry is going to be a big brother!” Belle squealed, excited enough for both of them. “Does your mom know yet?”

“Are you kidding?” “What did Neal say?”

Emma shook her head and touched her belly. “You’re the first soul I’ve told.”

“Me?” Belle crowded closer to Emma and drew her head down on her shoulder. She smoothed Emma’s hair back from her temples, soothing her the way her mother used to when she was little while she tried to process the news. To think she was the first to know about the new addition coming to the Cassidy household. She hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t think I’ve ever been first in someone else’s confidence. At least not...well there’s Gold, of course.” She felt Emma nod against her shoulder. “I know what you mean. I’ve had friends. Acquaintances. Then when I met Neal he satisfied any need I had for friends. He’s a great husband and I love him to pieces, but it’s not like this. Like us. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, Belle.”

“Me too,” she said, tears scalding her eyes. She’d known it was true—had felt the stirrings of their bond deep in her spirit ever since their first real conversation at Henry’s birthday clambake. Between family dinners, walks, and girls nights out, the invisible force between them only grown stronger. Somehow acknowledging their friendship out loud made it seem more solid. Precious. As important to her as her love for Gold, but in a different way.

“Now stand up,” Emma said, fishing into her pocket for a crumpled tissue. “I wanna see this dress!”

Belle shot to her feet and smoothed the skirt, her fingers fluttering around the waist and hips while Emma zipped up the back.

“I love it,” she said, motioning for Belle to twirl around.

“Really? You don’t think it makes me look like a medieval strumpet?”

“Hell no!” Emma whistled as Belle turned around again. “You’re stunning. All we need now are Spanx and shoes. And maybe some lingerie for the after-party?” She wiggled her eyebrows.

“Maybe.” Belle’s face flamed at the thought of wearing a negligee for Gold. “What about you?”

“We’ll get to me after lunch.” She patted her still-flat tummy. “There’s a place down the street serving yummy cheese-covered waffle fries and this kid wants some now.”

Belle’s stomach growled in answer. “Lead the way.”

Their waiter was clearing the lunch plates at the café when Belle heard a knock on the window. She did a double-take as her father waved through the glass with a sheepish smile. Her turkey club sandwich, which had tasted so delicious a few minutes ago, now lodged in her stomach. What was he doing here in the city?

“I’ll grab the check, Belle. You go talk to him,” Emma urged. “If I see things are getting bad I’ll come outside and rescue you.”

Nodding, she gathered her coat and made her way outside, wondering what would bring her father looking for her in Portland of all places, when she hadn’t seen him once on the streets of Storybrooke in the three weeks since she’d moved out.

The air was frigid even in the sunshine, and she seemed to grow colder with every step she took toward her father.

“Daddy?” She wrapped her arms around herself to keep from reaching for a hug. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s the Portland flower show.” He brushed a bit of pollen off the sleeve of his coat. “I was in the neighborhood and saw you having lunch in the window.” “Ah.” Her dad attended the vendor-focused flower exhibition every year. She should have prepared for the possibility of running into him in town, but she’d completely forgotten it was this weekend.

“We haven’t heard from you in weeks, darling. Edith was devastated when you collected your things and left us.”

Belle gave a noncommittal grunt and thrust her cold hands in her pockets. Edith was devastated? Perish the thought her own father actually missed her.

“Marco treating you well?”  he asked gruffly.

“Like family,” she retorted, her voice carrying a sharpness she hadn’t intended.

Her father’s face paled and she instantly regretted her tone. There was no call to be so mean-spirited, especially when it somehow succeeded in making her feel worse instead of better.

He sniffed. “Will we see you for Thanksgiving?“

Belle looked into the clear blue sky, distancing herself from his hopeful gaze. "Marco’s cooking a huge feast, so I’ll be eating with him and Gold and the Cassidys.“

“Christmas?“

She blew out an exasperated breath and hugged herself again. “Let’s push through one nightmare holiday at a time, okay?“

He huffed. “I didn’t realize things had gotten so bad.”

“Are we still talking about holidays, or are you referring to other bad situations?” She thought back to the horrible family dinner she’d put Gold through when she’d tossed a roll at Edith’s head and stormed out. “I can’t live like that anymore. I won’t.”

“You’ve changed, Belle. Is this…is this Gold’s influence on you, then?” He seemed to deflate before her eyes, this giant of a man shriveling down to a pathetic shell. “When did you become this way? So stubborn. So willful.” His lips shook as he spoke. “If your mother were alive, she…”

“But she’s not, Daddy,” Belle interrupted. “Mother hasn’t been with us for years. She’s not here to tell you what to do and what to say, and for that matter neither is Edith. You’re the one who changed. It’s as Erskine said, you don’t even see me. Maybe you never did.”

“Belle!” Emma jogged over to the rescue, her breath a white cloud in the cold afternoon air. “Hey, Mister French. We really gotta get going if we’re going to finish shopping and I promised Henry I’d be home in time to tuck him in.”

“Great. I’m freezing anyway.” She looped her arm through Emma’s and mustered a sad, parting smile for her father. After years of trying to gain his attention and approval, she wasn’t sure when she would see him again and at the moment, she didn’t care. “Take care of yourself, Dad.”

###

[bruvebanner]

@threshie @seekingsquake I’m SO GLAD y’all are interested because y’all I’ve come to you with the Best AU Possible for Thor/Bruce/Clint. Now, hear me out: it’s a Western AU. Let me elaborate. Bruce, the wanted criminal: accused of multiple heinous murders, he is on the run from the law. He has a large bounty on his head and not an ally to be found. Who has accused him? Mayor Ross, town leader, and father of the woman he had planned to marry. Bruce was the town doctor, and while accepted for his abilities, he was also seen as an outcast for his strange affliction; an illness of the mind. He was known for his bouts of rage when put upon or threatened. He was known for dramatic changes in behavior. While no one had a name for it, they all marked it down as strange, but tolerable. But Ross couldn’t allow someone like him to marry his daughter. And, to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak, Ross blamed crimes committed by a group of bandits (that may have been lining his pockets well) on the poor doctor, including the gruesome murder of a few farmers and men and women from town. Now Bruce has fled in fear for his life, and also in fear for others, never truly certain of whether or not he did or did not commit the crimes. Then, there’s Clint, the bounty hunter: previously a conman, and then not long after, a Bandit, Clint has cleaned up his act, if only because he started to truly fear the noose that would inevitably be his downfall. Now a renowned bounty hunter, Clint has brought in nearly a hundred high level bounties, always alive, always to hang. As a previous criminal, he knows their instincts, and with his great perception, he always recognizes a face. And, of course, with his perfect aim, he can always shoot what isn’t vital. While he hunts for new and exciting bounties, however, he’s always also on the look out for one person in particular; his brother. Barney refused to leave the life of crime with him. He continues to ruin lives and hurt people. Clint knows that someday, he needs to be put to trial. He needs to be stopped. But he refuses to allow that to happen by any other hand than his own. Along his travels he hears tell of a new bounty—and one of the highest he’s seen. Ross is willing to pay good money to get Bruce back and see him hanged. And Clint is the perfect man for the job. And finally, Thor, heir to the empire known as Odin and Sons: Odin is a Colonel Sanders type rich man. He’s got dealings in all sorts of profit throughout the West: mining, cattle, farmland, even some stock in the railroads. His empire is far reaching and well known. And Thor is the figurehead for the next generation. He will, without a doubt, take over his father’s company—despite his urge to leave the stuffy confines of their sprawling home, and go galavanting across the desert like some amazing hero. After a trek to a cattle farm to do dealings with the owners, Thor and his traveling party are ambushed on the way back, and all are killed. Save Thor himself, who is left bleeding from a bullet wound to his side, doomed to die alone in the hot midday sun. But as he sees the buzzards circling overhead, he is saved—by a little man with kind eyes and careful, precise hands. Bruce saves him, unable to let someone die, despite his fear of being recognized, and Thor immediately knows he owes this man a life debt. He will Do Anything For Him. So far this is all I really have. Not a concrete plot but......I really really reaLLY LIKE THIS CONCEPT A LOT 👀👀👀

[reedsy-short-stories]

The Glory of Ramadan

by M.A.Q. Rizvon

In the sparsely clouded western sky the splendor of the setting sun was paling into a silvery twilight when the crescent, heralding the birth of Shavval , came into view. And all at once, gleams of joy crept into a million eyes and a million houses rang with the laughter of children rejoicing the eve of Eid.

 Young men congregated in groups of eight or ten and stormed the stalls vending hot jilaebis and steaming glasses of milk. They had the most important task to fulfill.  Finalise tomorrow’s programme of visits to relations and photo studios and the inevitable cinemas.

 And rosy cheeked maidens in the full bloom of youth lay back on sofas or mattresses and pillows spread on floors.  Their joy was in reviewing toorrow’s informal parade of new dresses, new makeup and who knows, start, Insha Allah, of a new romance; the long awaited one could be a guest mong relatilons coming in toconvey Eid Greetings with gifts and flowers in hand.

But in a miserable dwelling in an ill lit quarter of the city, a young man in his underclothes was pacing his little room up and down. Yet another of the educated unemployed,      scions of families clinging to a near regal past and a most difficult present of a jobless and penniless concerns.  An ill managed charity trust helped him meet the barest essentials of a college education. For his living expenses, his eye raised to Allah nd somehow starvation was kept at bay.  The local parliamentarian patronage and he made a handsome living writing speeches and managing his informal office at a low, low remuneration.

 On this night of nights when even the poorest of the land were looking forward to an Eid of Fith’r doles from the affluents, he found no silery lining beyond the dim electric bulbt that was his best companions for nights of worries and lack of sleep. He hd a knotty problem to solve and his inborn good sense preventied him from howling and banging walls to buff out his despair. Nothing in the world allow him to add to the pains and problems of his widowed mother.

 He had yielded to an indiscretion that was unavoidable at his age.  Brand new and gorgeous clothes for Eid! He felt desperate as he reviewed his hopeless situation.   He the foloshness to walk to the city’s high class outfitter – patronized by the Khan Sahib –and ordered a princely attire for himself.  Sherwani, jibba and pyjama of expensive material. The bill: twothousand five hundred rupees!  And it had to be paid and the clothes taken before 8 A.M. the next morning. The tailor was a decent guy but a man of business.  Terms cash and no dithering.  If the deadline was not met, he would call in another client, whose measurements were close to his own and dispose of the master cut outfit that was, as the maker said, fit for a bridegroom!

 Poor Manzoor! His was an unenviable state of mind. The more he thought about the challenge facing him, the more desperate became his state of mind. From where could he hope to earn such a huge sum within so short a time? He had none to help him except his aged, widowed mother whose only  source of funds was a paltry amount of just a thousand rupees she could collect by way of rent for a thatched house in  a distant part of the city.  That too had been spent away days ago. And she could meet household expenses only with the small amounts kind hearted neighbours would lend her now and then. There was not  the faintest hope of his need being fulfilled.

 Yet his determination proved irrevocable.  For, at the age of twenty, he could not be expected to resist the temptations of romance that was being thrust upon every young person from the books, magazine and wall posters all around the city.  

 Hence, it was but natural for him to look upon rich and vivacious Rifath’s regard for him as blind, uninitiated love. To him, the fact did not appear to be of any worth that the courtesy and high regard she extended to him was not for him as a suitor but for his talent as an up and coming Urdu poet and public speaker of rare charm. but her admiration of his talent in composing and reciting exquisite ghazals, lyrics, at youth mushairah’s at the college. And, at literary events in their city, she was asked to introduce him and she called him “My dear friend” and praised him as the “pre eminent poet of the age”. This earned him the jealousy and rage of the high brows who hovered around her on such occasions. And he had felt elated when his own friends called him “Rifath’s boy friend”.

 He felt he owed her the duty to appear immaculately dressed at her Eid party the next evening.  He could not think of any dress other than the Shae rwani and Pyjama that the tailor was getting ready for him, as suitable for the occasion. It was indeed a pity that his abject penury could prevent him from taking delivery of those clothes before eight in the morning when the tailor was sure to find another buyer of his own size for them.

 His mother called him for the night meal but he declined, saying he had been to an Ifthaar party hosted by a friend and they had dumped too many savories on his plate and he would not be able to eat anything more. Unlike other moms she had learnt to respet his oddities and left him alone to sort out his thoughts and soften his mood.

 The city had settled down to a quiet though uneasy sleep. He lay down on his cot (a chaarpaayeeh,  bed formed of a bamboo frame with zigzagging fibre ropes for body rest) and tried to lull himself to sleep.  But an hour crawled by and he could find no respite from the anguish that was choking him..He rose and resumed his practice of pacing up and down his small room and pausing now and then to thump his clenched fist on its lone  table and frowning at his own reflection in the mirror nailed to the wall behind it.

 In the past this drama had helped him to cool down and keep his agony from a violent outburst that could shock his mother. But on this memorable night, it failed him and he had to discipline himself.

 The timepiece on the table told him it was nearing midnight. He realized he could ignore his soaring emotions no more.  The stuffy atmosphere of the room was suffocating him. And his lungs yearned for the fresh air outside. He dressed himself and came out, telling his mother he would have a glass of tea from the stall nearby and came out.

 The night was, unbelievably, pleasant.  A cool breese was on and the thin strilp of starstudded sky amidst the parallel rows of houses in the narrow street was so beautiful and soothing to his nerves and his mental agitation.

 He walked on at a brisk pace, not caring where he was going and why. He felt he should not lose hope. There could be a way out of this mire, the way things in his life had sorted themselves out. He seemed to be in for mental fatigue as he forced himself again and again to think out some way or the other of earning twothousand five hundred rupees before daybreak..  He had no problem finding his way as he had grown up in these narrow and winding lanes and he felt quite safe and sure something would turn up in time to relieve his agony.

 With doubts crisscrossing his mind, it took him half an hour to reach the posh area of the city that was nicknamed by the less fortunates as the Aristoland. The lights wee brighter and more decorous, the tree lined avenue was best maintained and freed of both the dust and grime of other localities. Both sides of this imperious roadway, stood the mansions of the rich and the might, each an enclosed .half acre of manicured lawn and colourful foliage.

 Manzoor noted that only one of the mansions had it lights on and it was the ancestral home of Nawab Mohsin Khn, the current Mayor of the city. Maybe the Leader, as his followers called him, was preparing the speech over radio, that was an annual event of Ramadan. If he had called on the great man earlier in the day, he could have done some good to the rich man and also earned a handsome reward. Maybe the opportunity was not lost. He quickened his pace and reached the mansion within seconds.

 The ornate gate, painted green and gold, opened as he reached it.  The security guard gave him a sylish salute. And like a courtier from their Moghul past, he made a deep bow and said “Welcome Badshah!” as though e was receiving a monarch and not a young man seeking a job and a reward.  He led Manzoor to the huge office room and asked him to be seated. And he called the Nawab Saheb over the intercom and informed him of the young man’s arrival and left. .

 Manzoor sat back, in fact, he sank into the deep comfort of the imported sofa. For once he felt the aura of high living and felt himself a part of fit. He felt the load was off his chest ad he breathed easy and relaxed. Already, from his heart and in his mind, he felt the upsurge of a strange new feeling.  Was it courage, toughness, bravery, the daring to take on the opposition and care not for the consequence?

 The door opened and the Nawab came in.  He was handsome and sprightly, more like Captain Pataudi than the robust, rotund and regal rich of the time. The young visitor rose and walked up to him and they shook hands.

 The big man was eloquent in his welcome: “Khush Aamdeed and Eid Mubarak! I mso happy you came.  Be seated we have to talk lot”.

 “I’ m sorry to disturb you at this hour, Khan Saheb. I was psssing this way with friends than I saw the lights were on and dared to come in”.

 “Manzoor Khan!” It was the big man’s specialty to share his own title with all his friends. “You know we don’t stand on formalities.  You’re welcome any time. But this time it is a Rahmath. blessing, from Allah that you came“.

“Harayeh Khidmah” the visitor said and rose. :If there is anything I can do for you.  We’re honored when you praise us like this”.

 The Khan’s hand signaled him to remain seated and he said, “I don’t know if you were there.  I didn’t go to the Urs of the Dargah last night. Two groups clashed instead of offering salutations and respects to the great saint. The police informed me the riiot was started by the ruffians hired by those who gain from violent upheavals like this. The Chief Minister called me. He was deeply concerned.  Two guys, one a student and the other a salesman are in hospital with serious wounds.  They will recover but the peace and calm  of our city hs been shattered. The CM has asked me to discuss the event with leaders and advise them to reunite and restore the sanctity of the mausoleum.  The Urs had been going onr fo over a thousand years. Other festivals are to follow.  We cannot afford these events of joy and bonhomie to be turned into rowdy battles. I have assured him of my fullest support. And I have convened a leaders’ meeting tomorrow after Eid. Prayers. We will issue a nice appeal to the conscience of the people not to allow even a single repeat  of such devilry anywhere in our district.”

  “If I can write ……”

 “Yes. Sure you’re the best guy for the job.  Here are my notes.  I have a telephone interview with a pressman an hour from now.  And my address to the elders’ meeting tomorrow.  And finally, the masterpiece: Our Joint appeal to the citizens.  Do your best. Allah Will Help You.  This time you will be earning sawaab, religious rewards, from Allah when you reunite people’s hearts and keep them from killing and wounding one another”.

 The Khan rose and walked to the door. He turned and said, “I’ll be back after an hour at the latest. Write as best as you can.  You know my message: Our young people must learn to control and avoid anger and fury.  All the tragedies we have suffered through history resulted from our failure to control our temper.  Our Prophet taught us to keep our cool, whatever the provocation. He is Our Role Model. We must adopt his Uswathul Hus’naa, his incomparable excellence of character and behavior. This is the best guide for our advancement in life.  Allah’s Help is gained and people also take a liking to us. Most people who gain wealth end up with more enemies than friends.  Our Prophet wants us to win hearts and earn triumph through superior thinking and magnificence towards people”.

 The Khan left, closing the door silently after him so the

people inside the mansion would not be disturbed after the hard day they had, of Eid preparations.

             Manzoor collected the papers and took over the desktop he was used to work on. He thought of the long years his family had been allied with the Khan family. His father was the Estate Manager and his mother the best teacher in the free school started by the Khan’s Begum and funded by the Khan himself. The Khan had four sons of his own and yet he doted on Manzoor for his welcomspecial talents in English writing. His boys also liked him and welcomed him, as Dada, elder brother. He retained their trust and regard by scoring the highest runs and  taking the most wickets in all regional tournaments.

            A streak of pain flashed through his being as the memory asserted itself of the disaster his family had suffered in a deadly train accident that turned him into an orphan.The Khan stood by them and remained their constant support ever since. Yet his mother, who was proud of her own ancestry, declined to be dependent on her husband’s employer. She had earned honors in her teaching and sports management of the city’s famed English school. She allowed him to avail the scholarship from a Charity fund.  But for all other expenses, Mom’s salary and even her jewels were at his son’s disposal. But the son, equally a conscientious young man, had never exceeded the monthly allowance she gave him.  

            But she did not oppose her son’s close friendship with the Khan’s children and their dad took liking to him and Manzoor took care of his office work off and on. The pay was good and on this Eid night, he put in extra care and fulfilled his task to the big Mayor’s satisfaction and received a rich reward. With profound thanks he left for home.

            There was a nice breeze as he reached the highway and he felt he could break into a dance. There were five thousand rupees in his pocket.  The tailor would receive half of it and the rest would make his Eid a fabulous experience. He would spend some and save the rest. Mom would never take anything from him. The last time he tried to share with him the prize money  from an essay competition won  by him, there were tears in her eyes and he had to run back to his room to hold his own.

            He thought of going to the tailor whose shop was en route and he should be at work even at that late hour a it was the eve of Eid. He could try his clothes on and satisfy himself that they were indeed of the Paris design and finish as the tailor had promised him.  And he winked to himself in a bout of self confidence as he imagined how he would look, tall and triumphant as he faced his adversaries when he would appear at Rifath’s gala Eid party in his immaculate attire. And Rifath? He checked himself.  That was for tomorrow, No hurry!

[bouquet-of-scissors]

81 - Ivy :)

81. “It’s cold, you should take my jacket.” 

This one will be cannon where we are in the story ^-^

What better opportunity to give a little more backstory to how Ivy and Cashmere met? :3

Here she was left alone to fend for herself at some stuffy fundraiser with a bunch of stuffy rich people- but hey, at least there was champagne. She really didn’t want to go but how could she turn down Rouge’s invitation? Especially since her mother has been not-so-subtly trying to set her up with every obnoxiously rich and high-class guy she can get her grubby pink hands on. Although she hated to admit it… this one was kind of cute.

“I take it this isn’t your scene?”

It was a sneak attack, Ivy had gotten so lost in thought she left her self wide open. Which one of these stuck up pricks was trying to hit on her now? She turned around… Fudge, its the cute one.

“It’s not that I don’t like charity events… it’s a great cause.”

“But?”

“But it’s boring here… Everyone is too uptight and concerned with appearances to have any fun, it’s suffocating.”

“Well, is there at least something you about it you don’t hate?”

“Hmmmmmmm… Yeah no, can’t think of anything.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Why do you care so much anyway?”

“As the charity organizer, it’s important for me to get feedback~”

“Oh, fudge.” She’d done it now…

“Don’t worry I’m not offended. To be honest with you the Mayor ended up doing most of the planning, including the guest list. But I mean hey, who better to invite to a charity event than people with deep pockets and snobby friends to impress?”

“I suppose you’re right~” Ivy giggled.

Just then her phone rang.

“Hello?… Yes… Yes… What?… I’m on my way.” She hung up her phone “Sorry it’s a family thing, I’ve got to run. Tell Rouge I’m sorry I had to bail.”

“Wait!” Cashmere pulled out a pen and piece of paper to write something down, he neatly folded the piece of paper and put it in his jacket pocket before taking it off and handing it to Ivy “It’s cold, you should take my jacket.”

“But… I’m leaving. How will I give it back?”

“My number is in the top right pocket, I’ll guess you’ll just have to return it to me over coffee sometime.” He gave a sly wink.